14 5th September
Culverhouse had agreed to meet Helen at a coffee shop in the outdoor shopping precinct in the middle of Mildenheath. The shop was from a large national chain — the sort Culverhouse despised, seeing as all he wanted was a straight black coffee; not a cappuccino, cafe latte or macchiato — whatever the hell they were.
Although the weather had turned chillier than it had been recently, hordes of people were still sitting at the outside tables, clutching at their warm mugs of coffee, such was the novelty of a coffee terrace in Mildenheath.
Fortunately for him, Helen wasn’t one of those. She’d positioned herself in the corner of the coffee shop, near the disabled toilet and far enough away from the counter to avoid the temptation of the cakes and biscuits on offer.
He made h
