They sat around an untidy bonfire on a cold wintry night sharing a bottle of Jack wrapped in a brown paper bag.
Elsie pulled a stained mackintosh closer to her emaciated body, ‘I haven’t seen John for a while. Is he ok?’
‘Last I heard he’s gone to detox in hospital, or is it prison? I’m not sure,’ said Frank passing the bottle to Oliver.
Oliver said between glugs, ‘Rehab’s bad for you. It’s a killer. Nothing’s surer than John will return to the bottle and kill himself with an overdose.’
Continue reading “Lenten Tales – by Steve Luckham”