D.I.Y.
CHAPTER ONE
“It feels like we’ll never be finished.”
Julie straightened up from chasing in an electric cable and gestured at the
tasks still remaining. Mark murmured sympathy, but they both knew DIY was the
only way they could afford their own home.
Spending every weekend working on the house
left no time or energy for romance, but Julie was still hurt that Mark had
forgotten their anniversary. Until she opened their new front door to the sight
of a candlelit picnic table, and Mark ushered her to a
packing-case seat.
CHAPTER
TWO
“Get your idle bum off that sofa and cut the
grass!” Julie yelled.
Mark sighed theatrically, but he plugged the
lawn-mower into the kitchen socket and started up the machine.
Julie was making tea when the fuse blew. Mark stormed through to the fuse box and flipped the trip-switch back on. “Where’s
the toolbox? I ran over the cable.”
“Unplug the mower before you touch it.”
“No need - I know what I’m doing, woman.”
Julie stood motionless, counting to ten. When
Mark screamed she waited several seconds before she pulled out the plug.
CHAPTER THREE
Mark was building a fence - to stop old Mrs
Williams sticking her nose in their business - when Julie brought him a mug of
tea.
He gulped a mouthful, spluttered, “Stupid
bitch - no sugar!” and swung his fist, forgetting the hammer until it was too
late. Acting quickly, he drove into the forest to
bury her body deep, then went home and finished the fence.
When Mrs Williams asked after Julie, he said
she had run away, but the old lady suspected otherwise.
So did the police. Two months later the mushroom spores he’d carried home
on his boots put Mark in jail.
