"Thanks," I said. "Yeah sure. It's a very different place."Tricia pulled out of the airport and down onto the M4, heading into London. "How's things?"...I asked Harry.He grunted in response. "If you're worried about your writer we've got her back." Great," I said, "Did she get far?" No, not too far but we had a hell of a job getting her back. She found a way to fuck up the chip in her collar. Seb's still trying to work out how she did it. It meant we couldn't use tracers. We had to use dogs for. I was not alone in these short prominades. I used to pass girls of all ages doing exactly the same as me, some alone and some in small groups, standing outside a tent, watching the owner come to a conclusion then giggling off happy to have seen and inadvertably helped. I remember at a get-together being invited to sit on the lap of a friend of my mothers, around a table, where everyone sat eating and drinking and being boisterous. I was sitting with one leg either side of his, pulled up close. More

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