After the tests, her worse fears were confirmed. The doctor told her they got to it early, and her life could be saved. Unfortunately, there would have to remove her left breast. Six months after the mastectomy and radiotherapy, she returned home to her husband. A year later her husband Stan, filed for divorce and left with a lady down the road. Each time she looked in a mirror, she saw a mutilated lonely forty-year with no future. Over the next four years she fell into a deep depression, and began to cover all the mirrors and shiny surfaces in the house. When she went outside she would wear larger and baggier clothes to hide her body from the people around her. She had had the medical cabernet in her bathroom stocked with razor blades and sleeping tables, for when she could summon up the courage to kill herself. Five years after the divorce, while she was shopping, she heard a male voice calling ‘Suzanne is that you?’ She turned to face a man in his mid thirty. ‘Suzanne that IS. My plan was simple. A gallon of water mixed with a generous quantity of diesel oil, liberally spread over the road surface just on the bend, should suffice to cause Dave Laurence to skid into the crash barrier at speed. With just a smidgen of luck, he’d finish up at the bottom of the water filled Quarry. With a little further luck the early morning sun should dry the water from the road, long before anyone else came across the scene and just leave a thin film of diesel on the road, which would be mistaken for an accidental spillage. Job done, an unfortunate accident would have put pay to Dave Laurence for good. I even had the date of Dave Laurence’s accident planned, I figured for two weeks after our company’s autumn seminar that was always held in late August. Yeah, of course that’s still in the summer but it was the seminar where the company’s winter lines were rolled out to us mugs, who were supposed to sell them to the retailers. I figured that Sandra might not attend the seminar.
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