He’d been following me around the supermarket for the past ten minutes or so, convinced I was up to no good. He didn’t know the half of it. I stopped in the cheese aisle and picked up two blocks of cheddar from the shelf, holding one behind the other. Studying the label on the front block, I shook my head slightly to demonstrate that wasn’t what I was looking for – then I replaced the back block on the shelf, while sliding the front block up the fraying sleeve of my jumper. I continued down the aisle, casually lowered my arm down to my side and caught the hidden block of cheddar with my fingers. Then I reached into my bag for my shopping list and swiftly dropped the cheese inside. Cheese on toast for tea tonight, then. I was proud of this bag. The best one I’d built in ages. It was made of a stiff material that didn’t shake too much when I dropped things into it, and it was completely lined with tin foil to stop security tags from setting off the supermarket’s alarms when I was ready to leave.
