The front door creaked slowly
ajar. Polly smothered a chuckle as a hand appeared from behind the door dangling
a dazzling silver necklace. One Agatha Christie novel smacked into the wall,
wide of the target. As Sowerbutt’s worried face peered around the door, Polly
snapped: “Come in here this instant, you bastard.”
Sowerbutt was never sure of
his lady’s reactions. As he slowly entered the room, another Agatha Christie
cart-wheeled across the room and caught him in the groin. He groaned and the
necklace tinkled to the floor.“Don’t drop my present, you rude man. I presume the trinket is for me, not for whomever you have spent the last few days with.”
Sowerbutt looked thunderstruck. “There’s no-one else, Polly, you know that. I’ve been working flat out.” He suddenly smiled as he saw Polly was laughing.
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