“It doesn’t look good.”
“Great. That’s all I need,” replies Gemma.
“Sorry,” says Terry, “I’ll bring it back to the garage for a proper look, but don’t get your hopes up.”
He reaches up to close the bonnet but a pain shoots through his stomach. He holds his belly and groans.
“Blimey, are you alright?”
Terry composes himself.
“Aye, I’m ﬁne. Just a bit of… I’m ﬁne.”
Later, back at home, Terry gets the pain again. He leans against the kitchen wall.
His wife Susan gives him a funny look and continues with her
“Never. Oh, bless him. What a hero.”
Susan cups her hand over the phone.
“Have you heard this, love? Samira’s husband from up the street-“
Terry isn’t listening. The pain is getting worse.
But Susan isn’t listening either. She’s chatting away on the phone.
Terry takes a deep breath.
“Kids. Come and set the table. Your tea’s nearly ready…”