Sunday roast would be on and the fires would be blazing. A good opportunity to finalise where each piece would go. The red and yellow to be the centrepiece. All was beautiful in their world. All was well.
They turned the final corner towards Peters. Arriving just in time to see a distraught Peter, climb into the back of an ambulance, slowly driving away. No sirens sounding.
Jessie walked ahead. Letting go of Mary’s hand for the first time that day. He walked into the pub to be confronted by Mario, the Spanish manager, who waved him away quickly.
“NO NO we are closed” It was only then that he
recognised Jessie. “Oh my god Jessie, Jessie, Peter was trying to call you. Peter has had a heart attack...” he stopped.