A Pint Of Beer, A Bag Of Chips, And Thou - Plot & Excerpts
This time, my silver fox stared at me the whole time he was coming down the escalator. He wasn’t carrying any bags. Maybe he didn’t have anyone special to shop for? Wel , a boy can dream. I launched into Hazel O’Connor’s “Wil You?” and you know what? For just a moment there, I thought maybe he would—but the crowd surged and he let it carry him away from me. Not even a pound coin to remember him by. I heaved a mental sigh, and segued into “I’m Not in Love” by 10cc. A worn old man dropped 2p into my case. “You just keep telling yourself that, mate,” he muttered, and shuffled off into the tunnels. * * * * I didn’t even try to sneak out on Christmas Eve, just headed straight into the living room. The coven was lined up on the sofa, all three of them with expectant looks on their faces, as if they’d known I was on my way. Then again, they’re witches. They’d probably known before I had. “Come on, Mum,” I challenged her. “I’m ready for you. Do your worst.”
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