Harry loaded his van with paint and checked the job sheet, yawning. “Any idea where Briarwood Road is?” he called vaguely to his workmate Jimmy. “I’ve got a pressing appointment with some lampposts.”
“Briarwood Road? We’re letting you loose on the posh side of town?” Jimmy popped his head around the stockroom door, laughing.
“I know. Lucky me, eh?” Harry rubbed his hands gleefully. “All those rich, bored housewives just dying for a bit of excitement . . .”