“We’ve been infiltrated,” said Carol, scanning the assembled members of the W.I. “I saw our cake recipe on Val Clark’s shopping list in Tesco this morning.”
“But… it’s only a Victoria Sponge!” said Julie.
Carol flung her arms in the air. “How many times do I have to say it? Use the code name!”
It was fair to say that former Superintendent Carol was finding retirement a struggle. It had only been six weeks but already she was exasperated.
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Watkins, a whole platoon in a single body, clumsily barged open the door. The committee room became a lot more crowded with his entrance. ‘They can’t deliver today,’ he said.
Davies, his face communion wafer white, said, ‘Why not?’
‘Strike at the depot.’
‘For the best,’ said Jones.
‘This is going to be a success!’ Davies insisted.
‘It’s meant to be a do to celebrate Phil’s passing, for god’s sake.’ Jones sat up aggressively in his chair. ‘Why do we need bloody fireworks?’
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