With the majority of its residents away at work, it had an eerily abandoned air, and could almost have been the setting for some post-apocalyptic film noir. But a fitful sun was trying to shine through the clouds, and innocuously cheerful birdsong filled the air. And when Hillary stepped from Jimmy’s car, the only thing on her mind was the more prosaic need to go second-hand car shopping at the weekend. She couldn’t keep relying on being chauffeur driven by her right-hand man.In the centre of the village was a small pond, at the moment bereft of ducks, and parked up beside it was a white butcher’s van, with the back doors standing open. Two middle-aged women were standing between the doors, chatting and laughing with a tall, well-built man with salt-and-pepper hair and a wide, handsome but somewhat florid face. He was well over six feet and just running to seed, but so far the muscle was still winning out over the flab.‘That would be our Lothario then,’ Jimmy said cheerfully beside her, and Hillary nodded.‘We’ll wait until he’s got rid of his customers,’ she said, and then rued that decision as the trio spent the next good ten minutes indulging in mutual flirting and banter.
