A Dish Best Served Cold?

Copyright © 2023 Chris Kinsey The moral right of the author has been asserted. Apart from any fair dealing for the purposes of research or private study, or criticism or review, as permitted under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988, this publication may only be reproduced, stored or transmitted, in any form or by any means, with the prior permission in writing of the publishers, or in the case of reprographic reproduction in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency.Enquiries concerning reproduction outside those terms should be sent to the publishers. MatadorUnit E2 Airfield Business Park,Harrison Road, Market Harborough,Leicestershire. LE16 7ULTel: 0116 279 2299Email: [email protected]: www.troubador.co.uk/matadorTwitter: @matadorbooks ISBN 9781803137742 British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data. A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library. Matador® is an imprint of Troubador Publishing Ltd To my ever patient, long enduring, gorgeous Hils x You always believed that I’d get it finished x CONTENTSCHAPTER ONECHAPTER TWOCHAPTER THREECHAPTER FOURCHAPTER FIVECHAPTER SIXCHAPTER SEVENCHAPTER EIGHTCHAPTER NINECHAPTER TENCHAPTER ELEVENCHAPTER TWELVECHAPTER THIRTEENCHAPTER FOURTEENCHAPTER FIFTEENCHAPTER SIXTEENCHAPTER SEVENTEENCHAPTER EIGHTEENCHAPTER NINETEENCHAPTER TWENTYCHAPTER TWENTY-ONECHAPTER TWENTY-TWOCHAPTER TWENTY-THREECHAPTER TWENTY-FOURCHAPTER TWENTY-FIVECHAPTER TWENTY-SIXCHAPTER TWENTY-SEVENCHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHTCHAPTER TWENTY-NINECHAPTER THIRTYCHAPTER THIRTY-ONE ABOUT THE AUTHOR CHAPTER ONEThe Beginning 1985Sonny Wilton stood rigid with fear. He looked down the hallway into the kitchen. Both his parents were screaming at each other.Sonny had witnessed many arguments throughout his short life, but this one was different. On Thursday evening his mother had escaped to the local pub, not returning to the house until Sunday morning.The atmosphere across the weekend had been tense, with Sonny’s father sitting by the phone, waiting for a call. As Friday turned into Saturday, Sonny could feel the humiliation boil up inside his father. This time she had been gone three days!Then, as bold as brass, his mother had just wandered back in with a look that said, ‘And what are you gonna do about it?’ This was goading an already savage animal to say the least.Jimmy, who had been carving up a poor excuse for a Sunday joint, threw the gravy dish across the room, missing his wife by an inch.The radio in the small kitchen was weirdly playing Wild boys by Duran Duran in the background of the horrid, toxic scene. Sonny watched as his unshaven father stabbed the meat over and over again in blind fury. He didn’t seem to be aware that he was holding the knife in his hand.‘I will not ask you again, Wend. Where have you been?’ His father pointed the blade straight at his stern-looking wife.‘Oh, you know. Out and about!’ His mother, ever defiant and unrepentant, crossed her arms.“Cos, you see, I searched everywhere for you. Where the fuck have you been?’His father made a deliberate step towards his wife.His mother did not flinch. ‘What have I told you about spying on me when I’m out with my bloody friends?’ She pointed a mocking, accusing finger at her husband, totally unaware of the impending horror that she was encouraging.‘All your ugly, scumbag friends haven’t seen you for the last two nights. So, where were you? And who the fuck were you with? For three… fucking… nights!’Sonny edged into the kitchen. His father’s eyes said it all. Something terrible was about to happen.‘I’m leaving you, Jimmy.’Sonny clasped his hands over his eyes. This was going to end badly.‘There, I’ve said it, at last.’ There was a determined and final tone in his mother’s voice.‘You’re leaving me! I’ve not looked at another woman in the last twelve fucking years. You, on the other hand, have been on your back for any idiot who’ll buy you half a lager. And you’re leaving me! You really take the piss, Wend. I’ll tell you something. You’d be dead before you were out the door.’ He slammed the knife into the table to emphasise his intent.His mother edged towards his father and offered a mocking laugh.‘You haven’t got what it takes, you bastard. Who do you think you are? Your father? You ain`t a quarter of the man he is, or a quarter of the man I’ve been with the last three nights. The man I‘m leaving you for.’Sonny crept into the room. ‘But, Mum. You can’t leave me here?’‘Try me. I’m sure you’ll both be happy.’‘I’m fucking warning you, Wendy. I am fucking warning you,’ his father shouted, his eyes wide open in uncontrollable rage. He held the knife so tight that his fingers were ghostly white.‘Go on then, you spineless fucker!’ screamed his mother as she stood in front of her fuming husband. She opened her arms, almost encouraging the violence.Sonny couldn’t bear to watch and clasped his fingers over his eyes. He listened as his father thrust the knife deep into his mother’s chest. He heard his mother scream, and edged backwards in fear. He opened his eyes and watched as his father stepped back as well.His father seemed to be morbidly transfixed as his wife’s head started to nod up and down in shock. Sonny felt every muscle in his body tighten as a circle of blood appeared on his mother’s chest. His mother lifted one hand and touched the handle of the knife almost tenderly, and then fell backwards, her legs folding awkwardly beneath her. She didn’t close her eyes to embrace death. In truth, Wendy Wilton was very much dead before she had hit the floor.Sonny edged backwards. His father was now sporting a demented, twisted grin. He seemed to be curiously surveying the gruesome spectacle he had created. He reached down and gripped the handle of the carving knife embedded in his wife’s chest, and slowly withdrew it from her body. There was a soft sucking and grating against bone as his mother’s body gave up the blade.His father turned his attention to Sonny, who stood trembling, his young eyes transfixed on his mother’s body, a pool of blood growing around her. Sonny no longer recognised his father, as a sadistic smile chilled his blood. He beckoned to his son.