Back to editing.

And a deadline. My mood isn't high. I've got a pile of ironing behind me here at Coward's Castle.

Truth is I really don't hate it. I can plot while I just mindlessly iron.

Teatowel.
Back, forth.
Back, forth, fold.
London. They race through the streets. She looks behind her.

"Quick, turn here!"

Quim looked into the mirror. The black limousine was still behind them.

"They realise we've seen them. Hold onto your seat!"

Pillow slip.
Back, forth
Back, forth,fold.

She screamed. Really loudly. This was way beyond her comfort zone. Way way beyond.
But then so was imminent death. That was all they were faced with if Crosby got to them before...

Shirt.
Back, forth.
Back, forth.

Up Barker Street. A little old lady was crossing the road. "Look out for the the little old lady!"

Back, forth.
Sleeve.
Back, forth.

They swerved. Hit a parked car.

Back, forth.
Left side.
Back, forth.

"Why don't we drive past the police station down on Sir Humphrey Nightpole Square?"

Back, forth.
Right side.
Back, forth.

He swerved back onto the road. She glanced at the parked car. It's owner was emerging from his house, fist raised. She also glanced back behind them. The black limousine was there, relentless and threatening. Big, black, solid and

Back, forth
Hang the shirt.

Dangerous.