A Real Man
HARRY loaded his van with paint and checked the job sheet, yawning. “Any idea where Briar-wood 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 . . .”
“You just behave yourself, Harry,” Jimmy warned sternly. “No getting up to your old tricks, okay? If the boss hears the slightest rumour about any valuables going missing from those big houses, you’ll lose your job.”
“What do you take me for? A thief?” Harry winked mischievously and climbed into the van. “You know your trouble, Jimmy? You always think the worst of people.”
