ONE HUNDRED AND NINE

Saturday 20 March

‘Please,’ said Lorna, trying and failing to keep the desperation from her voice. ‘It’s not what it looks like.’

‘I think it’s exactly what it looks like,’ said James. ‘You’ve been stealing from the PTA funds, just as you’re stealing now. Jesus, Lorna, what on earth are you thinking? How am I supposed to explain this to Carol?’

‘Don’t tell Mum,’ begged Lorna. ‘I’ll pay it back, I’ll—’

She was stopped as the passenger door opened a second time and a large, brutal arm reached in and grabbed James, yanking him from the seat.

Lorna heard a sickening crunch and blood splattered on the car window. She scrambled out and saw James lying on the ground clutching his nose, Dylan standing over him, his fist rising for another strike.

‘Stop!’ yelled Lorna, frantically looking around for help. She saw Simon approaching with another of the buckets. He clocked her stricken face and ran over, dropping the bucket of money and throwing himself at Dylan, attempting to pin his arms to his side and pull him away.

Dylan struggled against him, still a ball of fury.

‘What’s going on, man?’ said Simon. ‘Whatever it is, it’s not worth it.’

‘He’s been screwing my wife,’ said Dylan, his eyes blazing.

James hauled himself to his feet and staggered a few steps away from the car.

The fight had caught the attention of some of the crowd and people were heading their way. A couple of torchbearers, some of the men sensing a need to calm the situation.

‘You what?’ said Simon.

‘Him and Imogen. For months.’

Simon looked at James in disgust, at the blood running from his nose. ‘Are you serious?’

‘Don’t be so quick to judge,’ said James, wiping his face.

Lorna shrank back as James’s eyes rested on her. ‘You want to tell him, or shall I?’ he said.