19
After leaving Michael, Slim caught a bus to Tavistock and made his way to Parkwood Close. Celia’s house was on a meandering terrace of Sixties-era houses. It lacked the architectural beauty of the older part of town but was pleasant enough, too narrow for much traffic and with a leafy park across the street.
Slim bought a newspaper in a corner shop then sat on a bench which had a view of Celia’s front door through a screen of trees, idly scanning through pages of gossip and football reports as he waited for her to appear.
An hour later, having seen no one, he was almost done with the few interesting articles and had turned his attention to the growing tremble in his hands. He checked his watch. Half past five. It was almost late enough to be acceptable, so he gave in to his cravings
