Òyì nke e mepụtara

David and Sarah left the mansion that evening in a cloud of expensive exhaust and even more expensive perfume. They thought they had left a broken man behind. They thought I was sitting in my cottage, nursing a glass of cheap whiskey and mourning the life I was about to lose. They couldn't have been more wrong. I waited until their taillights vanished over the hill before I walked to the back of the vineyard. There’s a small potting shed there, overgrown with ivy and hidden by a row of ancient