The hospital car park was crammed. Mandy nudged Jack awake, ‘I’ll drop you and meet you in there.’
‘Thanks, babes,’ he said, rubbing his recently inspected face.
‘What, no diatribe about the scandalous parking charges, and how this penalises the families of the poor?’
He said nothing and it worried her.
Outside the hospital main entrance, Jack exaggerated his fight through the fog of sick smokers. ‘What’s with you dipstick?’ a smoker’s retort, a man looking like he was out of a concentration camp, peeking out from behind his wheelie drip-stand.
Jack rummaged for his warrant card, gave up. ‘You’re what’s up, pollutin’ the feckin’ entrance to a hospital so people are forced to walk through your cancerous smog and have to look at your emaciated, cadaverous bodies.’ There is nobody more z
