Her father had George, and that was the worst nightmare. Joyce had only dreamed of this happening in the worst of situations where her father had called her having a boyfriend, and they had come true.
On occasions, when she thought about it, she knew that what happened was that George could be murdered in cold blood and his body would be chopped up into different pieces before they would be scattered around indifferent farms in the UK for pigs to be fed from.
George would have no chance of survival. He was not someone who came from money, his family was upper middle class, but not someone who could be a millions of dollars to her father for his life. Even if they did, they would be burdened by the loans they would have to take and she knew George. He would never let his parents do that.
Her entire body was shaking as she continued to look out of the taxi. This was a different kind of fear, a fear that came from true feelings.
