Running from the swarm of bees, Roger kept his eyes firmly ahead knowing he'd be able to jump into the river, swim underwater, get away.

Later that day, sipping Earl Grey tea, spreading deep red strawberry jam onto his wife's freshly baked scones, he couldn't believe he'd just survived such an ordeal. The yeasty aroma from bread in the oven, strong coffee and the whiff of the floor polish made everything so damn ordinary and routine, yet he could have been sipping hospital tea through a straw, face wrapped in bandages.

It wasn't the best idea to disturb the hive without protective clothing and he couldn't really understand why he did it, very unlike him.

He wondered why his jam tasted different to normal and hoped he had just imagined seeing his wife with a box of rat poison, must have been a similar package to something in the food cupboard. Unless.............