0545 05.45 LYN

05.45 LYN

He tastes of-



‘Work. I have to go, fuck, shit.’

‘Chuck a sickie.’

‘You are joking. Where m’f-‘

‘Under the-‘

‘Cheers, look, what um … laters.’

‘Smday off.’



‘Sound. I mean..’


‘you might want to bring …’


‘back another bloke-‘

‘That was a joke.’

‘Thoughtitwas, sorry.’


‘I meant that I thought you … I mean like that I knew it was.’

‘I know.’

Well. Good. I’m … that’s …’

‘You’re… um …’


‘Behind you. I’m here all, you know. Today.’

‘Yeh … well after … I finish, usually at-‘

‘Where’re you working?’

‘Handy actually … over there. At the moment.’

‘The station.’

‘Nah. Here we go round the mulberry bush … clue?’


‘mm I like you. Look sorry, Igotto’



‘You in the book?”

‘Got a pen?’



‘Pen. Pen. Pen. Somewhere. Here.’

‘Cheers.’ He pulls cards from his back pocket, scrawls a number. ‘It works. Thereyougo. I can’t ring, not in there. I’ll go home after, clean up … text you, about’

‘Just come.’

‘Six. Here?’

They nod. Laugh. Kiss. Then Pete has gone and Lyn is thinking he never asked what she did and how she is OK with that because it spares her all the usual jokes.

A guy came in the other day asking if there was a picture of the mulberry bush. The same day that woman was looking for recipes with mulberries and oranges and they found one for a dressing, loads for cheesecake. There is a cheesecake in the fridge. Home made. Not mulberries and orange. Key lime.