Miles was emptying the food scraps into the compost bin when he saw Natalie pull up in her Mini. It looks like a child’s car, he told himself, whacking the plastic bucket with the heel of his hand to dislodge a particularly tacky piece of banana skin. She’s a young woman now, she should be driving an appropriate vehicle, not this … toy. Her visits always raised his blood pressure, even when she was trying to be nice. The banana still wouldn’t budge, so with a tut he dipped his fingers into the bucket and scooped it out, flicking it into the compost with a wet plop. The slugs and red wrigglers could fight over that one.
It looks like a child’s carShe’s a young woman now, she should be driving an appropriate vehicle, not this … toyplopWiping his fingers on his dressing gown, then wiping the
