Chapter 4
Clare opened her eyes. It took a moment to position herself in the new day. That’s right, it was Saturday. Her tongue was furry, a sure sign she’d been drinking. But her head barely ached, which meant she hadn’t overdone it. Good. A glance at the clock. Eight o’clock already? Samson would be busting.
Clare yawned and headed for the lounge room. She remembered about Jack just as the stink hit her nose and the chaos came into view. Samson was in the kitchen, scoffing cornflakes and milk from her Venetian glass fruit bowl, which was on the floor. The dog acknowledged Clare’s presence with a wag of his tail.
She rescued the bowl. Jack sat cross-legged on the tiles beside Samson, the cereal box upended above his open mouth. A shower of golden flakes rained down on them both. But t
