Chapter Eight
December 1998
Greg would never forget the day he and Gemma split up.
It was a Sunday; a typical December day in England. Gray skies, drizzle in the air; pretty miserable generally. Gemma and Greg had been at the hospice since just after lunch.
They rode their bicycles back to Gemma’s house and she invited Greg in for a mug of hot chocolate before he rode home. Gemma’s mum was out at church but her dad was in – he’d been watching football on TV and had gotten quite relaxed thanks to a few whiskies. He was delighted to see Greg, and immediately engaged him in conversation. In his mellow state he began to tell Greg how glad he was to see Gemma settled.
Gemma was his angel; the apple of his eye but her older sister was more of a problem. Visually you could hardly tell them a
