Ruth and her new bike had been exploring Whitby a little, getting to know some of the locals and whatnot. She had stopped for a beer -which wasn’t as good as in Germany- someone had made a comment either about the feathers on her hat or the fact that her skirt looked suspiciously like a pair of trousers and she had challenged them to an ancient version of darts and was currently in the process of winning a horse. The problem was, that she had to win it bit by bit. So far she had managed the mane, a front leg and a third of the tail due to a dispute, and an ear that now possessed an extra hole for an earring.

She was about to give another try for a backleg of the horse when Benny found her.

Ruth was extremely easy to spot: taller than most men, her giant mass of red hair pinned on top of her head under a feathered hat, she wore clothes that lack in frills for a woman and were too wide for a man. She didn’t turn to Benny as he entered, concentrated as she was on her game.