It was the following Monday – never a day with much to recommend it, and with shoulders hunched against the chilly morning wind, he peered miserably out through the filthy window of the garage to check if he could see Paddy arriving. No sign as yet, though, and Gurdy wished he’d spent an extra half hour in bed.
It was a long walk out to the garage, because it was on an industrial estate. A long disused industrial estate, inhabited mostly by rampant weeds now, and suitably isolated and away from prying eyes. It was a big place, too, as in a former life it had apparently been a scrapyard, with a large garage, several outhouses and a big outside area for breaking up cars. There was also a paint and spray shop and next to that a building with a pit, which also served as storage for tyres and car parts.
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