Derek watched as his new neighbour climbed from behind the wheel of his Nissan Bluebird and made his way up the drive to his front door, his fat fucking wife and three – three! – f***ing teenage kids in tow.
At the same time, Samantha made her way up Derek’s drive. His hands tightened as Sam – barely making her curfew – shot a sexy glance at the oldest of the three brothers, his tattooed knuckles turning as white as the dinner plate.
He picked up a white cloth and started to dry the plate, placing it carefully on a pile a similarly white plates in a cupboard of white crockery. He ran a finger around the St Christopher necklace that hung around his neck and allowed himself a smile, remembering the fun he’d had at the game that afternoon.
He felt a nudging against his shin. He reached down and tickled the pitbull behind the ears. “Good boy Tyson,” he said. At least someone in this f***ing family was loyal. He flicked the light switch and headed off to bed.
(C) Peter Davison
Pete doesn’t go to the Writer’s Group, mainly because someone has to look after his and Louisa’s son so both can’t go! However he thought it fun to do the character excercise after hearing Louisa’s story (next).
Marlborough Writers 