12
Lunchtime usually found him strolling down to the local shop to purchase a cheese roll, crisps and a soft drink. The sun had come out briefly, lifting his spirits and when he stepped out onto the pavement again and saw her, they soared.
She waved to him and came over. She had just appeared from the grocer’s and her hands held two bulging plastic bags, full of fruit and vegetables.
Helen leaned into him and kissed his cheek. “Hello you! Goodness, have they let you out for good behaviour?”
He laughed. “No, I’m almost always here, except when I’m on duty.”
“What, you have your lunches out here, in the village? Not at school?”
“Yes, then I usually wander up to the square, read a bit,” he patted his pocket and brought out a dog-eared copy of Cormac McCarthy’s The Road. “That is, when i
