The golden brown, flakey, pastie goodness was tempting Bert. Soon. Willoughbys did excellent sweets, but their pies had been too crunchy of late for Bert who had got his savouries elsewhere. Of course, taking his custom to another shop meant he missed that O'Connor woman. Bert kept thinking about her too, to the dereliction of his duty.

The Sargent was doing a one fingered dance with a typewriter, creating an annoying racket. A middle aged man with a tired face appeared at the counter. Bert covered the pasty with an old duty roster.

"Can I help you, sir?"