No-one paid much attention to the three of us, sitting in a Cirencester restaurant enjoying lunch together. We hadn’t seen one another for a while and there was plenty to talk about. Arriving in the pouring rain meant that there were umbrellas and raincoats to provide a small distraction from the main aim of the meeting.
Though halfway through the main course, I spotted a slightly familiar face on the table next to ours but looked away without catching her eye. I could have been mistaken; perhaps it wasn’t the woman I thought it was but simply someone of similar appearance. This was not a time to get into conversation with others who might ask questions, expect a cut of the goods, maybe.
It was a clever move to make the transfer in such a distinctive bag, though. Sometimes, acting in an open and nonchalant manner draws less attention than more clandestine behaviour and without a word, the stripy bag was placed under the table, next to mine. I’m sure no-one noticed that the colourful bag did not leave in the same hands as it arrived.
The meal over and the transfer made, there was no time to spare. The contents of the bag must be brought back, to be placed in a special, secure place as before.
If we didn’t get those sloes into the freezer before they thawed out, they’d make a horrible mess of Connie and Marjorie’s freezer bag and they might not do me the favour of picking them again next year.