Hot Revenge Box Set 4

Chapter 12

Richard handles the veg knife like a kid with his first wax crayon, not so much peeling the potatoes as hacking chunks from the outside.

Trying not to be obvious about it, I watch the performance for a few seconds…

He’s going to slice his thumb if he keeps that up…

…. then taking a peeler from the cutlery drawer, I pluck the knife from his hand and replace it with the peeler. “Try that instead.”

He fumbles at the potato, drawing off a sliver of peel. “Ah, yes. That’s much easier.”

Still, I keep half an eye on what he’s doing. “Not that one,” I say, pointing to the potato in his hand. “It’s green.”

“Oh…” Richard stares at the tuber. “There were a few green ones at the top of the sack. Is something wrong with them?”

“You can poison yourself with green potatoes. That’s why you store them in the dark. So they don’t go green.”

“Seriously?” Richard stares at the spud in his hand as though he’s never seen one before. “Poisonous? Potatoes? But I eat them every day.”

“Yes, seriously. They’re from the same family of plants as Belladonna, the Solanaceae. The green parts contain a toxin called solanine.”

Richard regards the tuber in his hand with a sceptical eye.

“Belladonna? Pretty lady?”

“Medieval women used it cosmetically to enlarge their pupils. The alkaloids that achieve the effect are some of the more effective toxins out there.”

Still, he looks dubious.

say. “You’ll see the

“How dangerous are they?”

potatoes to do yourself any real damage. But…” I raise a

kitchen, he toes open

*****

 

Michael

but Scruffy and Bear sit in one

sauce simmering at the bottom, large bubbles glopping and redissolving into the surface. Chunks of sausage

a bottle. “Ah, Michael. Good timing. You want to open the wine? Set it to warm… I’ll serve the meal in the dining room, but we can sit in here while

This is a celebration after

is. Back in a mo.” And

gaze to the hob. Bear isn’t so subtle. He simply stares at the pan, long strands of drool

out of the door and then with the thirty seconds I reckon I have before James’ return, I fork a sausage, bright orange, scented of chilli, out

half to each of the dogs. The two halves

Why just them?

door swings, James strolls in, a bottle of cava in each hand, and I jam the

Fuck!

frantically blowing air over my scalded

Then, stacking plates and cutlery onto a tray,

wrestle the cork out of the Rioja bottle... “Nice choice by the way.” … then

Yes, I thought Georgie would appreciate a Spanish meal. We

course. But what I meant

“What email? Damn!” and he makes a dash for the oven where smoke

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