She opened the door of the parlour, kicking the multicoloured, knitted-snake draught excluder out of the way.
‘Bring it here then, is it a bill?’
‘Don’t think so, it’s got that seal on, like when they wrote to me about the repping.’
Bert gave her one of his looks. ‘Don’t you go thinking they want you for a rep. What can you do for the bloody nation?’ He gave the snake an unnecessarily vicious kick as he wedged it back under the parlour door, and threw the mail onto an already cluttered coffee table. ‘Unless they want everyone to learn to knit.’ He turned his smirk towards her, so she could see it was okay to laugh.
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