“I was hoping the picture would help me get a new house.”
“Not if *I* can help it.” Saffie was a rival renter. She wanted the best for her and her family of 5 children, 3 dogs, 2 ferrets, and 1 husband. For now.
Marty checked his watch. “Where *is* he?”
“*She*,” Saffie helped for the moment at least. “Snowmanster is a *she*, jees. Do you want to get a better house or not, blimey?”
“Blimey?” He stared over. “You’re British?”
“No.” But Saffie turned red here. She knew she’d slipped up. She also looked at her watch, hoping that Snowmanster would show up asap. Before too much was revealed.
“Do you know Liverpool by chance?”
“I don’t eat meat,” she returned dumbly.
“Ahh. A Vegetarian. Then you must know *Linda*.”
“Lisa?” Didn’t work.
“*Yes*. Her too.”
Where was this going? At least we escaped the pitchfork guy, blimey.
Sunklands 