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.. well, what usually happens is that one of Mum's uncles comes around and they do this stuff between the two of them, every year." So where's Uncle... ?" Dennis. Uncle Dennis. And he's going to be here tomorrow. Coffee. You want anything with it?" What, like a tomato?" Oh, don't do that. You'll be sick of the sight of those soon." I'm fine. So it's just today? What's the problem?" The problem is that Mum is far too friendly with one of the local growers..." Okay." And he dropped all these off this morning, and will be back tomorrow with some more, so we need room for them." Oh, I see. So we need to process this ton or so of tomatoes?" Yeah. " Heather waggled her finger at me. "Preserve, not process. We're going to preserve the tomatoes. In a few different ways." Preserve. Alright. Then what?" Ah. Come with me." Where are we going?" The laundry, of course."Heather took my hand, and led me out of the room, still chattering. That was where this had got to. We'd spent the last two weeks. “Did you seriously think you’d get away with it?” He grabbed my hair in his fist, pulling my head back. “I guess you’re wondering how I found out, which one of the slags that you’ve been shagging, grassed you up.”It wasn’t. The only thought going through my head at this particular moment was how far this psycho was prepared to go, and how much was it going to hurt. “I got a message from a friend of yours, some lawyer, Henson. He sent me these.” He held his phone up to my face and started scrolling through a small album of photographs of his wife Zoe. I squinted into the phone’s bright light and recognised them immediately. I had taken them and knew I was in trouble.“I...”“If I were you,” he scowled, leaning in so his mouth was next to my left ear. I could feel his hot breath pricking the hairs and tiny bullets of his spit landing inside. “I wouldn’t say a fucking word. There is nothing, no excuse, no explanation, nothing, that is going to make this any easier. You’ve been fucking.
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