Terror on Tuesday

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“I used to carry a knife,” Lois said conversationally, “when I was at school.” She had not bothered to lower her voice, and grinned at Derek’s expression.

He looked at her across the pub table. Lois Meade, his wife of nearly seventeen years, still a smart girl and making heads turn, and still with the same challenge in her eye as when he’d first seen her serving in Woolworths. She’d just left school then, to the relief of her parents and teachers, and it had been instant lust on his part. He knew she’d had a fairly wild youth, but this latest revelation was new. They’d been talking about the lawlessness of today’s kids, and about their own, who were safely at school, when Lois dropped her carefully calculated bombshell.

“No need to tell the whole pub,” he said calmly, rising bravely to the challenge.

“Yeah, well, things don’t change all that much,” said Lois, downing the rest of her beer. She looked at her watch, and stood up. “Time I went,” she said, and leaned across to kiss Derek firmly on the cheek. “See you later, then.” She walked across the bar with her loping stride, and was gone.

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