On Saturday morning Red arrived earlier than usual at Ralph Parnaby"s newsagents. He left his bike in the alley at the side of the shop, pushed open the unlocked door and stood listening, unconsciously fingering the scar on his left cheek.
There was no sound. He walked through the small hallway into the shop and hesitated, staring at the shelves of cigarettes. Ralph never kept accurate records, but when stocks were low it was risky to take too many. But he had to put his plan into action before Mouth arrived.
Reluctantly he took a pack of Senior Service and a pack of Du Maurier and slipped them into his pocket. He had a couple of Top Twenty records for Sally as well, the latest Ray Charles and Frank Ifield hits, zipped into the big inside pocket of his jacket. He enjoyed the ritual of gi
