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to be spent the same, no matter what. Call it tradition if you may.

“Smells heavenly,” Abbey remarked. She sniffed the air outside the shop in surprise. I followed, not realising just how hungry I had become. Even being situated outside the door was enough to feel the heat from their fryers and smell a familiar scent of chip fat. Unhealthy, but pleasantly enjoyable.

“What would you like?” the owner shouted over the bustle towards Abbey and me.

“A large chips and small cod.” Abbey ordered hers confidently, likely having visited this chip shop since she was a small child. For a skinny woman, she sure could eat well. My decision took longer, too many items taking my fascination. That’s what happened when I got overly hungry, everything was good enough to eat.

“Just the same, cheers,” I decided. It was easier than choosing for myself. The owner jumped right to it, sorted out the bags, and scooped a shed load of chips into each one. They glistened with a sheen of oil. No dieting tonight.

Meanwhile, Abbey went to pay at the till. She refused my share of my bill.

“This was my choice, and I invited you along.” She unzipped her pink purse, pulling out a wad of £10 notes and selected one. “There you go.”

I wondered what she did for a living to encounter that sort of money. The bill only came to £9, the chip shop never ramped up its prices. Abbey paid generously, and the server handed us our meals. We waved the kindly server goodbye and tucked right in.

“Hm. That’s good,” I noted quietly and shoved the newspaper onto a silvery table. The chip shop had a few dotted opposite the sledge display, in case trades like us needed to sit. Their food warmed us comfortably, and we sat opposite one another. Abbey ate with gusto, settled in front of me. A few questions swam through my mind as I stabbed a chip with my wooden fork prongs.

“Why did you wait for me today?” I asked.

Abbey swallowed her mouthful and washed it down with some cola. “Well, I noticed you this morning. You looked stressed—”

“You winked at me,” I added, contemplating that morning’s events.

“I thought you were hot. Problem?” She raised a neatly plucked brow in my direction. Abbey was blunt and truthful with her emotions. Pure honesty and frank communication, something I often found myself upsetting people with.

“Right. Uh, thanks?” I questioned, wondering if a response like mine was acceptable in these situations.

“They asked me to go to the station and fill out a witness statement,” Abbey explained more after chewing down a bite of cod. “Mainly because you were busy chasing up some lead. That’s what they told me, anyway.” She was talking about Jack Harper. “I finished not long before you and read the local headlines. I thought you’d want a pleasant distraction, or a drink to take your mind off it.”

“No more drinking. They’ve caused half of my troubles,” I scoffed with ease.

“It wasn’t that bad. We’ve all done it. I once booked a holiday to Taiwan whilst drunk.” she admitted, shaking her head in mock disappointment.

“Really?” I wiped my mouth, disbelieving her.

“Really. I went with two random people who were at the party, who booked at the same time. We had great fun. Can’t remember half of it, but that’s the point of holidays, isn’t it?” Abbey had a fair point. “What I’m trying to say, is that we should go for a drink,” she remarked and placed her hand over mine. “Together.”

“I can’t,” I shuffled away, not meaning to insult Abbey. “It’s a work night. I’ve pushed my luck already. DCI Campbell wouldn’t stand for it twice,” I imagined what McCall would say if I showed up drunk tomorrow.

Abbey brushed my rejection aside. “Ah, so you’re a workaholic,” she derived.

I hadn’t thought about it much before. “I suppose I am.”

“Does no one ever tell you to slow down and enjoy yourself? What about your girlfriend?” Abbey hinted, pretending to scrutinize a greasy chip.

“Are you snooping?” A knowing grin tugged my lips.

“Maybe. Yes,” she admitted, throwing her hands up in defeat.

“I haven’t got a girlfriend,” I chuckled, shaking my head enjoyably. Abbey was easy to get along with and someone new to interact casually around. I didn’t have to watch my tongue too much.

“A wife?” Abbey didn’t drop the subject, pouting in question.

“You’ve got no filter, have you?” It wasn’t a problem. If anything, it was sexy. Most people are too afraid to say what’s on their mind.

“Filters are for boring people. I like to get down to the interesting gossip straightaway,” Abbey undid her purple scarf, highlighting her smooth collarbones.

“No wife either,” I admitted in the end. “That’s not why I rejected you, and it wasn’t a rejection, not really. You said so first: You’re our witness, and that would feel… wrong.

“Or, maybe, you’re too uptight,” Abbey articulated, prodding her fork in the air for emphasis. “It doesn’t bother me.”

“Right. Good to know.” I retreated inside of my social shell. “So, what exactly did you see this morning? I didn’t get a chance to ask. Bit busy with… other things.” I had to filter what details came out of my mouth concerning Gavin Ellis. A chip burnt my tongue slightly, but I played it cool.

“We’re not discussing this on our first date,” she groaned. “I refuse.”

“You said it wasn’t a date!” I dropped the chip, mouth agape.

She poured ketchup over the remainder of chips, stealing one from my own bag. “I lied.”

“You should be kept on a leash,” I suggested without thinking. “Reel you in a bit.”

“Yes please,” she winked, changing my original meaning into something unique. Was she suggesting…? No, she couldn’t be. Abbey exaggerated her action of licking her lips. She was suggesting.

“Dear God,” I couldn’t help but blurt out, much to Abbey’s amusement.

My head tilted to one side, noticing two familiar people pass by. Their hands held onto each other’s, joining them together. Unlike Abbey’s dyed hair, McCall’s crazily bright hair

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