Back at Dad"s, the Dog and Duck pub, the Saints matriarchy licked their wounds, while the men drowned their sorrows waiting to be told what to do. What preoccupied Nan, Mum, and a gaggle of aunts, daughters, and nieces was not that they had lost one of their own, or even that one of the lads was also not likely to make it, or at the very least would have a high-pitched voice, another a limp, and Mickey Junior was in a coma. What obsessed them was the crumpet had been taken and replaced with a replica. A good one they acknowledged, but this facsimile had seriously bad juju, as had been evidenced these past few days.
Dad"stheir own"What have we heard from our man arrested at the hospital?" Grandma Saint asked, speaking from her rightful place at the head of the table.
"Not been easy, they"
