Anorexia Tremens (Maternal Trigger)

The living room, Dug couldn’t help but notice, had recently been decorated in yellow plush and turquoise velour. It reminded him of the flat he’d had in the summer, although the effect was more Turkish Brothel than Greek Bedsit. ‘Nice, eh...’ he said, indicating the walls and everything else.

Stark had a Jammy Dodger poised in front of his mouth. He started to tremble slightly. ‘Aye,’ he said. ‘It was a wedding present from my mother.’

The curtains were royal blue crushed velvet.

‘The Textile Discount Depository?’ Dug ventured.

     ‘Aye,’ said Stark. He looked at the biscuit and tossed it into the bin next to the sofa. ‘She got a deal on everything garish over nineteen ounces the square yard.’