Even now, a good five minutes after rushing out of the flat and slamming the door, Harriet’s pulse still throbbed in her temples. She would sit here on the wall until she felt cooler and calmer, and perhaps by then Sanjay would be more subdued too.
She moved into the shade on the wall. It was another blazing day and the bricks were fiery hot through her skirt. Over the road, a children’s birthday party was going on. It was a party for children who could not walk, Harriet concluded. Parents aimed to park as close as possible to the gatepost with the blue balloons, gunning for any hint of a space whether their car fitted into it or not. One woman stopped her 4x4 right in the middle of the street to let out two little darlings, each carrying presents bigger than themselves.
A van had been abandoned across next door’s drive. According to the livery, it belonged to Smarty Marty, your top choice in children’s entertainment in the whole of North London.
Harriet was still seething. She would phone Virginia. Her best friend would understand.
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