Sam did a lot of thinking on that return journey, so much
that he arrived at his exit junction hardly aware of the intervening hour and a
half. He had vague recollections of traffic in various concentrations on the
route, but had driven virtually automatically. As he approached the roundabout
on the slip road he decided to pull up at the nearest pub, get blind drunk and
to take a taxi home. As it happened the first pub he came to was closed for
renovation and the second one was sufficiently rough looking to stay his
patronage. Eventually he settled for a pub that was approximately half a mile
from his flat, one he used regularly anyway, and he pulled into the car park. As
he turned off the engine, for the umpteenth time that evening he recalled the
week’s events, trying to work out why he had allowed himself to become drawn
into this affair and, perhaps more importantly, how he could distance himself.
It would take a few more hours and nearly two litres of red wine before Sam
arrived at answers to these questions, however none of them would be capable of
being recalled the following day, or in fact for the remainder of that weekend.
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Copyright Ray Sullivan 2011
The characters, places and events described in this novel are fictitious and any resemblance to persons, places or events, past or present, is coincidence. All rights reserved
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