NEVER Done That

Try as she might, Jessica Ryder wasn’t feeling all that chipper. Earlier in the week she’d been involved in a minor accident and it had brought her life into sudden and sharp focus.

It had made her think about what she’d done – and, more importantly, just what she hadn’t done.

She’d never, for instance, been drunk. She’d never been inside a nightclub. Never been to the opera, nor to a football match. She’d never ridden a motorcycle nor flown in an aeroplane. And Anglesey was the farthest from home she’d ever been.

Now, here she was, in hospital, staring death in the face. Literally.

‘Nice scythe,’ she said.

‘For the reaping of souls, see,’ he said.

Another thing Jessica Ryder had never done was imagine the Grim Reaper with a Welsh accent.

‘I suppose that does come off.’ She pointed. ‘Or have you just been on a very severe diet?’

‘What? Oh!’ A bony hand came up and removed the skeletal mask to reveal what was obviously a student within the