” Silence, save for the hum of rubber on road. Another car overtakes, water splashes up onto the windscreen. Hand on gear stick, eyes glancing in he... direction; black nylon, thighs, seatbelt pulled tight across her chest. “So what ideas don’t you want me to get about you?” I ask. “That’s for me to know.” “Are you afraid I’ll think you’re a slut?” “What kind of question is that?” “Just making conversation.” “Is that your idea of conversation?” “For someone who’s being done a favour, you really. I trudged behind them, collar turned against the cold, pockets stuffed with icy hands. I called them away from worrying at a dead crab. I love my dogs but their habits are distinctly unsavoury. Their world is roughly divided between food and not-food. Sometimes the boundaries blur. The morning suited my mood. I’d come up to the cottage this weekend to get away from London. The cottage belonged to some sympathetic friends. “You need a break,” they said, “why not use our place in Norfolk.” I. More

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