Chapter 6

“Helping the old man up the steps, are you?” Neil asked with a twinkle in his eye.

“Just making sure you don’t make a run for it. I mean, I’d understand if you decided you couldn’t face being seen in public with a cardigan like this.”

“What, you mean any more than I have been on the way here? You do realise you’re talking to a bloke in a Doctor Who scarf, don’t you?” Neil stroked the road kill red and pond scum green stripes on his chest and looked a bit wistful as we elbowed our way to the bar through secretaries in reindeer antlers and accountants in their cups. “I’d have killed for a scarf like this when I was a kid. Course, I’d have wanted the hat, too.”

“What, this crime against humanity?” I asked, pulling off the purple tea-cosy with a grin. “Here, have it—it’s yours.”

Neil backed away, eyes wide and his mouth twisted in mock horror. “Not that one. God forbid. No, I meant one of those dark, wide-brimmed hats Tom Baker used to wear.”