Chapter 2

“And this is Shardonnée—crack us a bottle open, will you, Shards? This calls for a celebration, this does.” A slutty-looking teen in a mini-skirt that showed off her cellulite heaved herself off the sofa and slunk off to a well-stocked bar. She glared at Giles as she unscrewed a bottle of Aldi’s finest.

“Not that one, love! Tastes like horse piss, that does.” The lady of the house rolled her eyes at Giles. “Open the decent stuff—you know, the one what Aunty Sharon got us when she was seeing that bloke at the offie. That’s it, love. Now, Wayne, love, d’you want to call me Mum, or Angie?”

“Angie’s fine,” Giles assured her, probably a bit too quick for politeness.