3. The ‘R’-Bomb
Breathless and with a monumental stitch in his side, Colin had found Dave lying in a deckchair on his front lawn, wearing his black padded leather jacket and headphones, with a cup of tea in a chipped mug warming his oil-stained hands against the March chill.
Dave lived not far from his workshop, in a crusty part of town by the old canal, and often had a car or two in the driveway of his end terrace house. ‘Something to rummage around in for fun’, as he always put it. That mechanics, rather than women, was Dave’s talent was to be everyone’s salvation that day – he had, indeed, spent the first part of his Saturday fixing Colin’s estate car. Because, in response to this fact, Colin had actually kissed Dave on the forehead and ensconced him in a sweaty hug, explanations were
