Moderate Violence Read Online Free

prongs that
slotted into each other when the case was closed. The edge of one of them had
been broken, leaving a sharp point.
    She dabbed the wound on her cheek with a tissue. It
wasn’t a big deal, but people would notice it, so she’d have to think of a lie
to tell them. Futile behaviour like sticking a DVD case into your face would
elicit bafflement from Pascale and a telling-off from Holly, and Jo didn’t want
to experience either.
    The case was still in her hand. She fingered it,
feeling a lingering sense of shock. Such an innocuous object; such an
electrifying result of…what? Drawing blood? She studied her reflection, looking
for the reassurance in the sight of her own familiar features. But there was an
expression in her eyes that wasn’t familiar. She looked like someone in a TV news film who had just been rescued
from a capsized boat, or an earthquake, or a flood. Adrift, only half in the
world, and possessed of a sudden, unwelcome wisdom.  

Chapter Two
    “ Wales ?”
    “Yep,” said Trevor. He was sitting in the kitchen with
his feet on the table. “It’s a principality of some three million souls,
situated in the west of the British mainland. It enjoys a constant supply of
mountains, castles, rugby and rain, and is God’s own country. As every Welshman
knows, and so should you, Jo-girl.”
    Jo put the teapot down quickly and sat at the table,
keeping her eyes on Trevor’s face. “Stop being such an arse. What will you do
there? Get a job?”
    “I doubt it. I got some money from the firm. Fifteen
thousand.”  
    “Is that all?” Jo was surprised. No wonder Trevor had
felt the need to get off his face on gin. “So when that’s gone, what will you
do?”
    It was Saturday morning, so Trevor wasn’t at work. But
he only had three more days to work anyway, because they owed him holiday time.
    “Well, my little love,” he said, biting off a mouthful
of toast, “you remember Mord Davies?”
    “No.”
    “Yes you do. He’s my mother’s cousin, or nephew, or
something. Mordecai, his name is. Anyway, he’s been asking me for years, on and
off, if I want to go into business with him. Bed and breakfast, in this
farmhouse he wants to do up, see.”
    “Good grief,” said Jo faintly. The thought of Trevor
and someone called Mordecai running a bed and breakfast establishment wasn’t
even funny. It was just ludicrous.
    “So I think the time’s come to take him up on his
offer, don’t you?” said Trevor.
    Jo tried to understand. “So if you go into business
with him, you’ll take half the profits, will you?”
    “Mm,” nodded Trevor with his mouth full.
    “So you’re going to put your fifteen thousand into
setting it up, then?”
    As she said this, Jo could feel her heart doing
something weird inside her. She was sure, before he spoke, that Trevor wasn’t
going to do that at all.
    “Nope,” he said. “Needs much more than that. I’ll put
in what I get from the divorce. Half this house, for a start.”
    Jo poured the tea and they sipped it. She knew that if
she asked Trevor to take his feet off the table he wouldn’t, so she didn’t
bother. “So you sell a nice house in London and you use half the money to help
Mordi-whatever-his-name-is to do up a crappy old house in Wales,” she said
after a while. “What will Tess use her half for?”
    “That’s up to her, Jo-girl. But if she’s got any sense,
which I doubt, she’ll invest it.”
    “You mean buy another property?”
    Trevor nodded, trying to look wise. He’d had a shower
and his hair was still wet on the top. He was wearing trainers and jeans and a
faded Guns ’n’ Roses T-shirt. “Well, she can’t live with her parents for ever,
can she?” He reached for the teapot. “Top up?”
    Jo shook her head. “Trevor, half the money will only
buy half a house. A flat.”
    “That’s right.” He looked at her with sympathy, or
almost-sympathy. “It’s that or Prattland, babe.”
    Jo could see her face in the glass of the