The building, typical of the type of short stay ‘hotel’ designed for business men to stay in overnight, came complete with a burger joint next-door. Rich drove through one of those barriers which required a token from reception to leave. He parked round the back, taking the space nearest his sister’s car. No point ringing—she never picked up—so he tapped a text into his mobile, sent it and waited.
In under five minutes, someone rapped on the side of the window next to his head. Rich got out.
He gazed at Sapphire and she stared at him. As neither appeared inclined to talk and spending eternity in a car park struck him as a poor way to live his life, Rich said, “Love the violet. Mother’s going to hate it.”
Sapphire brushed her fingers through her now purplish hair. He fell into step at he
