A Spot Of Bother

113

George hung on to the rim of the toilet and moaned.

Jamie had been gone for twenty minutes now. Which was more than enough time to do tea and biscuits.

It began to dawn on George that his son was not going to help him.

He was swaying back and forth like the polar bears in that zoo they went to with the children once. Amsterdam. Or Madrid, maybe.

Was he scaring people away? He had tried to talk to Jean that morning but she had run off to iron a pair of trousers, or wipe someone’s bottom.

He bit his forearm hard, just above the wrist. The skin was surprisingly tough. He bit harder. His teeth went through the skin and through something else as well. He wasn’t quite sure what. It made a sound like celery.

He got to his feet.

He was going to have to do this himself.