When young, I played in a rock and pop band. While travelling in the group’s van we rear-ended a lady driver, pushing her onto a zebra crossing where she collided with a pedestrian. The man was angry with the poor woman, until he realised she wasn't the author of his discomfort. On discovering the culprit for the rapidly growing bruise on his leg, he brought his complaint to its rightful source.
When he recognised the driver of the van, his mood changed. He invited us back to his house, and told us the story of how he found a dead baby hidden inside a cardboard box. There’d bee more...
