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If you want to sit back and relax, you can have the whole of pageram read to you by the author.

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“Aargh! Fucking hell!”

He twisted away and hot tea spilled down his thigh.

“Fuck!”

He staggered across the decking, leaning forward to keep the dripping mug away from himself.

“That’s the light I was telling you about.”

Passmore brushed at his trousers. Skinner went inside without a word. Did he find anything funny? Passmore swore as he trailed behind us. I went to the sink and poured away my tea.

“What was wrong with that?” Passmore asked.

“Nothing. I just don’t drink tea.”

When we reached the back bedroom, Skinner inspected my elaborate set-up.

“You did have fun.”

He took up a position behind the tripod, bending his knees a little so that his head was where the camera had been.

“Tuck-tush,” I said.

Skinner looked at me. I was getting to him at last. I reached down and turned off the extension lead. The light on the garden dimmed and the lamp began to creak and tick as it cooled.

“It should be a good picture you got.” He leaned to the right to look out. “Can you get a view on number three’s garden?”

Why was he asking me? Was it a primitive lie-detector test? Of course you could get a view of number three. You just had to open your eyes. My lack of a response brought Passmore to life. He pushed past me. He was cross. He wanted a look. He moved the chair. This helped. He went to move the lamp. Bad idea.