CHAPTER 8
On Friday evening I receive a text from Darren Walker, asking me if we can postpone our Chinese for a week. He’s playing in a pool competition at the Feathery Duck, a really important one apparently. I decide to go out with Heather, to the Feathery Duck of course. Not that I’m checking up on him, but there’s not many other pubs in the local vicinity and I really don’t fancy catching the bus to the city centre, with all the drunkards and leering men. I walk to Heather’s house with my brolly up. It’s lashing down again and the temperature has dipped. My coat is zipped right up to my chin and I’m wearing one of Mum’s old woolly hats. I’m looking forward to having a lie in tomorrow morning. No dog walking for me on a Sunday.
Heather’s Dad answers the door with a lottery tic
