Chapter Twenty-Nine
Mark threw back the sheet as early light framed the window blind. He checked his phone – eight o’clock. Might as well get up; he couldn’t sleep anyway. Mark swore and rubbed his back. Bloody mattress. He’d paid a fortune for the designer sofa bed in the spare room. Nobody had used it until now and just as well. Some sort of metal bar dug into your spine in the middle of the night like a medieval torture device.
Chance’s cries sounded from down the hall. It had been three weeks since the wasp attack. The baby had spent twenty-four hours in hospital before Mark even found out about the incident, and then it was the doctor, not Lena, who’d informed him. Chance came home with his skin covered in bruises and blotches. He wouldn’t settle and grizzled constantly. Mark wonder
