I said, without breaking my stride, ‘That’s no lady, it’s the shoplifter from hell.’

As I moved fast into Coldharbour Lane, her voice carried: ‘I love you David and Louis MacNeice.’

I dunno if it meant Louis loved me too but I doubt it. Got the car keys out and my hands were shaking. Half expected her to start shooting. The engine revved and I burned rubber, sweat dancing on my upper lip.

Back home I got right on the phone, called a mate, asked, ‘You still fitting locks?’

‘Sure.’

‘OK, can you do a rush job, like now?’

‘Naw, we’re booked solid, no can do old son.’

‘If I throw in a few ponies for yourself’

‘What time would suit you?’

‘And shoot the works OK, deadbolts, state-of-the-art shit, top of the line.’

‘It will cost.’

‘Tell me about it. What’s the best system?’

‘The three five seven.’

‘What?’

‘Magnum.’

‘Get here soonest, leave the humour at the office.’

Poured a Scotch, took a fast slug, muttered ‘crazy bloody bitch’ and rang Doc.

‘That you Coop, how’s she cutting?’

‘I found her.’

‘Good man, where?’

‘Brixton.’

‘Figures. Did you deal with her?’

‘We had lunch.’

‘What? Are you stone raving mad. Tell me at least you got the shooter back, tell me that.’

‘I managed to get away from her.’

‘I’m confused Cooper, or you’re winding me up. We’ve been hunting her, half the firm on overtime, me calling in favours from every breed of wanker and you’re saying you escaped.’

‘I’m going to change the locks.’

‘Fuck-me-pink, you need to change your bloody attitude.’

He hung up.

A large package arrived next morning. The postman had to ring as it took me ages to undo the new locks. Grunting, I pulled open the door. As he handed me the package he winked. I asked, ‘Something wrong with yer eye mate?’