TWENTY-FIVE
In the car park, Jack and Mandy kissed for the CCTV cameras, imagined the “Oooh err matron” response in the CP room, enjoying the exhibitionist sensation. Jack held the car door for Mandy, ‘Thank you, Jack,’ she said as she brushed by him and slipped into the driver’s seat. He took in her scent, a sniff that sounded like he was snorting cocaine. Mandy marvelled at how she was able to filter out the Jack shite, as she noticed him leering at her legs, trying to see up her skirt; she liked that better, probably because there was no noise involved.
Jack settled himself in the passenger seat and they belted up, a silent ritual Mandy respected; Jack’s first wife Kate had been killed in a car crash, she never wore her seatbelt. Mandy rested her head on the back of the seat, ‘Not a b
