ONCE HE HAD STOPPED off at the caravan after paying a flying visit to the police station to check on any progress, and dropped off yet more provisions for Mickey, who was getting increasingly stir-crazy, and who passed the lonely hours by eating voraciously into his brother’s wallet, Rafferty drove straight to Stansted to pick up Abra.
He’d somehow, amongst all the other demands on his time, levered in a few precious minutes to practise a bit of bribery and corruption in order to get his and Abra’s midnight feast organised for tonight, so at least one thing was going right.
Fortunately for his celebratory plans, Abra’s plane was on time. She was perky after the short flight, having clearly enjoyed more than one drink from the in-flight trolley. Several of her hen party girlfriends had re
