‘I’m an artist. I love my work. The pigtails are permanent, by the way. That’s part of what took so long. Your hair was being ‘programmed’ t... grow like that, so to speak. You’ll save a fortune on styling, but you can’t change it. You’ll stay adorable whether you like it or not. Heh.’ I said some very unladylike things then. After I exhausted my vocabulary of swear words, Roadkill tapped his biker knowledge to offer me a few more, plus some variations of ones that I knew. ‘You’re a good. I’m not sure what my mum’s heritage was. Something hispanic. She certainly wasn’t pale like my dad, but she was a Londoner, born and bred. She also usually did all the talking, so it was no surprise that she started answering when my dad had been questioned. I watched Dad handling the body while Mum’s voice went over my head. He was careful, respectful even. He turned it over and I saw that the eyes were closed, that the clothing beneath the jacket was soaked with blood. ‘Well, maybe she can do. More

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