17
‘Oh, hello, Grace.’
‘Mrs Donnelly, how nice…’ Grace replied, spinning and stepping back to block the view to the front door of her house whilst, ineffectively, back heeling the dead assailant.
‘Your friend okay?’
Grace looked back. Bong, desperately tugging, had the body almost into the hallway, a trouser cuff snagged on the bent draught excluding strip. ‘Oh yes, he’s fine, we bumped into him on the way home.’ She looked to Bong who was now tearing the bottom end of the trousers in a desperate attempt to free the body. ‘Didn’t we, love?’
Bong looked up, thought, did she just call me love?
‘Bong?’
‘Oh, yes we did… love.’
The elderly neighbour turned to leave. ‘Some can’t hold their drink these days, unless it’s f*****g drugs,’ and she moved on, but called back, ‘thought I saw him
