Just after five p.m., and well dark. Phase Two had barely been started and had no street lighting yet. Two hours ago Bliss had slid in next to the site hut, his rear wheels spinning, his lights already switched off. He was sure he could feel the car sinking into the mud, but at least the building site gave him an excellent view of Gyles’s house, directly opposite, and the house the other side of Gyles’s shared drive. Steve Furneaux’s house. Still no car there, still no lights. ‘So would that be all right, Sister?’ Bliss said. ‘Don’t see why I can’t find that out, it being Sunday,’ Cullen said. ‘Although I shall expect some personal intervention from your good self the next time I fall foul of a speed camera.’ ‘I hate them speed cameras, me.’ Both of them knowing Bliss had nil influence in Traffic. ‘Give me twenty minutes, then,’ Cullen said. ‘This is very decent of you, Sister.’ ‘Merrily Watkins is a good woman.’ ‘For a Prod?’ ‘I don’t mess with religion, Mr Bliss.’ ‘Very wise, Sister.’ Bliss settled back with his Thai Prawn sandwich and a can of shandy.
