Epilogue

If anybody had told me six months ago that Dani and my dimwit brother would become an item, I’d have questioned their sanity. She’s sophisticated, intelligent and witty. And, well, he farts like a flatulent rhinoceros and is refined as those hillbillies on The Hills Have Eyes.

Yet, they got together two weeks after the fire, when Dani expressed a sudden and mysterious desire to join me when I popped round to Steve’s to loan him The Walking Dead box set. I stayed for fifteen minutes. Dani stayed for four days.

Her theory is that I am blind to Steve’s charm because he’s my brother. That he’s fun, loving, amusing and attentive. She also tried to tell me that he’s great in bed, but I acted like a grown up and stuck my fingers in my ears, while singing “la-la-la-can’t-head-you-la-la-la” until she stopped.

As for Steve, well, he’s smitten. Honestly, she’s turned him into a puppy dog – albeit not a very cute one. Despite my reservations, they seem to be enjoying themselves. And for the