They were not drunk but felt pleasantly mellow on entering the taxi outside the hotel entrance. Henry was just a little light-headed and certainly unfit to drive, and Joanne was livelier with little sign of her earlier depression, and she had developed an attack of the giggles. First symptom of this was as the cab pulled out through the car park and they noticed the lack of cars on the forecourt. On one side only four remained with the big Bentley still in position and the red Beetle standing forlornly next to it. No cars were close on either side.
Joanne giggled. ‘Look at that. Big Bentley and his scruffy little offspring.’
‘It’s been here all night,’ Henry observed. ‘Most likely belongs to the proprietor of this place.’
‘I really would love to see his face when he sees what’s next to
