OWNSTAIRS, DAI WAS making another pot of tea and ransacking the kitchen in search of biscuits.
“They’re in the car,” Marc told him. “Help me unload whilst that brews and you can have some.”
“Fair enough,” Dai said. “Now, tell me how you’re doing.”
Marc went over it all again. It was starting to feel distant now. Coming off shift early. Finding David doing the horizontal tango with Jack Rivens from the next flat. The screaming row. David giving him his marching orders and then flouncing out. Wandering around in a daze for three days whilst he packed everything up. Loading the car. Arriving last night and collapsing into bed.
He’d told it all a couple of times before. Once to Ruth at work, when he turned down the shifts she offered him yesterday morning. And to Mal.
Mal, who had enter
