In reality freedom had acted on me like a drug; I was addicted and couldn’t give it up for more than the odd day or two.Alcohol aside, I didn’t do...drugs, but I did freedom more keenly than the most dedicated of cokeheads.Here’s another “Wise after the event” observation.Those undertones I mentioned were always down to my mother. I know how crazy it sounds, but daddy was the homemaker. It was always daddy who suggested the days out: weekends in Morecambe or Whitby; trips to the cinema; holidays. Even if it was just a form of voyeurism, it was incredible and Greg wanted it! "Anything. Just name it." Yuli Breen," the man said bluntly. "Where is he?"Greg's excitement vanished in an instant. He'd been worried enough that this man knew his real name; the thought that the stranger knew who Yuli Breen was, let alone the fact that Greg knew where he was, was simply frightening.The man stepped behind Greg, reached out before him, and swept his hand across Greg's entire field of view. Everything. More

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