Hot Revenge Box Set 4

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.

at a potato plant when it’s in flower,” I say. “You’ll see the resemblance then. In any case, don’t add green potatoes

“How dangerous are they?”

very. You’d have to eat a lot of green potatoes to do yourself any real damage. But…”

the kitchen, he toes open the bin and drops the green

*****

Michael

sign of James, but Scruffy and Bear sit in one corner, snouts lifted,

redissolving into

in here while the food’s cooking.” He offers me the bottle, then hovers, sucking at his teeth. “That’s Rioja, to go with the casserole. But perhaps a

a

beams. “Course it is. Back in a mo.” And

transfers his gaze to the hob. Bear isn’t so subtle. He simply stares at the

door and then with the thirty seconds I reckon I have before James’ return,

dogs. The two halves vanish mid-air

Why just them?

fish out another sausage. Just as I’m blowing on it, the door swings, James strolls in, a bottle of

Fuck!

frantically blowing air over

cutlery onto a tray, “Perhaps when you’ve finished donating our dinner to

down against my blistered mouth. Fishing a corkscrew from the drawer, I wrestle the cork out of the Rioja bottle... “Nice choice by the way.” … then set it on the hearth to bathe in

thought Georgie would appreciate a Spanish meal. We visited

of course. But what I meant was, your email

clear with a bit of kitchen roll. “What email? Damn!” and he makes a dash for the oven where