Enough was enough. Troy went home, threw a bag in the back of his tatty old Bullnose Morris and drove out to Mimram. Now, he was fairly confident that Burgess was the bad penny in his life. He’d never “see the last of him,” the man would always turn up somewhere—and by and large Troy would not mind, but right now he’d rather have a Beecham than a Burgess.
He wound down the window, blew Old Bond Street, queer London, and Burgess out into the summer night.