“Their third different hotel. Either Cliff and his bit of skirt were doing a great job of keeping their affair secret or they were managing to spread the word with amazing skill. This time they’d gone for the Travelodge, which might have saved them a bob or two but did nothing for adding atmosphere or culture to the experience of hanging round in the bar. Ray had seen more interesting-looking waiting rooms than this place. The chairs weren’t comfortable enough for a bar and the bright orange col...our scheme probably had the same effect on drinkers as a load of artificial food additives. A snug this most definitely was not. The few strings of tinsel and a pile of mince pies under a glass dome did little to add any festive cheer. Ray sat waiting for his drink, his fists tight as knots and the need for a cigarette bigger than it had been since he first quit. He watched Cliff chatting to the barman, a young Polish guy with spikey brown hair and a silver stud shining from just above his upper lip.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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