He believed firmly in the ill-will of his neighbours, and thought they would seize the opportunity to poke about looking at his leftovers and working out what he had eaten for tea, given half a chance. He wasn't bothered about the risk of anyone going through his bank statements, even although he didn't believe in shredding documents before discarding them. Life was too short to be paranoid about money matters. So it was quite late, almost midnight, when he went round to the back of the house to drag the bin out. It was a cold night, but at least the rain had stopped, so the task wasn't too unpleasant. In the darkness by the hedge something moved. He paused. At one time there had been a cat who liked to hunt around there, but he hadn't seen it for a while. A fox? A hedgehog? He didn't think any hedgehog worth its salt would have come out of hibernation yet, but maybe with global warming... 'Mr McLean?' He jumped, his heart racing, his hand frozen as it reached for the handle of the wheelie bin.
