the same time I couldn't put myself through it any longer. This wasn't the first time this had happened, and I knew that if I stayed in the job it wouldn't be the last. I pushed my way back into the kitchen, grabbed my coat, and marched out through the restaurant.
'Is the manager on his way?' the odious little customer asked at the top of his voice as I walked past. I stopped and turned round to face him. His food couldn't have been too bad because he'd managed to eat half of it.
'No he isn't,' I answered. 'The manager cannot be bothered to come and speak to you, and I can't be bothered wasting my time dealing with pathetic little fuckers like you either. You can stick your meal and your attitude and your complaint up your arse, and I hope you fucking choke on your food!'
And he did.
Still chewing a mouthful of breakfast, the sickening, smug grin of superiority which had been plastered across the idiot's face as he watched me ranting at him suddenly disappeared. He stopped eating. His eyes began to water and the veins in his neck began to bulge. He spat out his food.
'Get me some water,' he croaked, clawing at his neck. 'Get me some...'
A noise from behind made me turn round. The customers in the far corner of the restaurant were choking too. The middle-aged couple were both in as bad a state as the little shit who had caused me so much trouble this morning. I turned back to look at him again. Christ, he looked like he was suffocating. Much as I'd wished all kinds of suffering on him a couple of minutes earlier, now I just wanted his pain to stop. I ran back to the kitchen.
'Call an ambulance,' I yelled. 'There's a customer...' Jamie was on his knees, coughing up blood on the floor in the corner of the kitchen. Keith was lying on his back in the storeroom, rolling around in agony like the others. Trevor was also lying on the ground. He'd lost consciousness. His fat body had fallen half-in and half-out of the back door.
By the time I'd picked up the phone to call for an ambulance everyone in the restaurant was dead.
PHILIP EVANS Part i
Mum isn't well.
She's suffered with her health for years now and she's been practically bed-ridden since last December. She's not been well all week but she's really taken a turn for the worst this morning. I've been up with her since just after five and it's almost eight now. I think I'll get the doctor out to see her if she doesn't start to pick up soon.
I don't know what I'd do without Mum. I've forced myself to try and think about it plenty of times, mind, because I know there's going to come a time when she's not around anymore. We're very close, Mum and I. Dad died when I was nine and there's just been the two of us since then. I'm forty-two now. I've not been able to work for years because I've been looking after her so we don't see much of other people. We pretty much live out on our own here. There's just our cottage and one other on either side and that's all. The village is five minutes back down the road by bike. We've never bothered with a car. I don't drive, and we can get a bus into town if we really need to go there. There's not much we need that we can't find in the village.
She's calling me again. I'll make her some tea and take it up with her tablets. It's not like her to make a fuss like this. She always tells me she doesn't like to make a fuss. She tells the doctor that too when he calls. And the health visitor. And the District Nurse. And the vicar.
It's just her way.
I need to get help but I can't leave her.
Oh, God, I don't know what to do. I was up there talking to her when it happened. I was trying to get her to the toilet when it started. Usually when she has one of her turns she's able to let me know when it's coming, but she didn't just now. This one came out of the blue. It seemed to take her by surprise as we were coming back across the landing.
She started to choke. Now Mum's chest has been bad for a long