‘Mum’s got pneumonia. You should come today.’
‘Right,’ Jeff said, ‘right.’ He put the phone down.
‘Pneumonia? Your sister’s a nurse, Jeff. She’s telling you something.’
‘I can’t leave here now!… What’s she telling me, Steph?’
‘Frail, old, in a care home? She’s saying get there before your mum goes.’
‘Christ! How can I…?’
He looked about him helplessly and put down the wet bucket he’d been using to bale out the shop.
/
‘Just a yellow warning, minister. The Met should’ve issued a red or amber.’
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