CHAPTER 11
If there was one thing that Police Constable Keith Greaves enjoyed, a hearty breakfast sat firmly at the top of his list. This morning, his wife, Tilly, had provided him with a feast fit for a king. Bacon, sausages, eggs, mushrooms, grilled tomatoes and fried bread adorned the plate that she’d placed in front of him. As a mark of respect to his wife, and because he loved his food, he proceeded to devour the lot with gusto. Tilly, who had been christened Mathilda, but had always hated the name, had been married to Greaves for over thirty years. It was Keith, who in the early days of their courtship had first called her the name by which she was now universally known. Tilly, she thought, had a far friendlier sound to it than her given name.
Her appearance was in sharp contrast t
