The TV hadn’t been entertaining, the shows a mixture of the bland, the overacted and the downright brainless. The reality shows that dominated the schedules may well include the occasional stunner, but after a few minutes of admiring their beauty, he’d invariably find himself repulsed by their personality. Some were narcissists of the highest order, others were so competitive they trampled over others with nary a thought for the feelings of their competitors, and the rest, they were just bitches.

Even the soaps he’d once watched had turned every decent woman into screaming, mewling shrews. Their beautiful faces twisted into angry gargoyles by implausible storylines and bad direction.

Sometimes he’d get lucky and discover a decent series. Most of these were American-made, although there was the odd British one that delivered both good drama as well as angels for him to idolise.

As he lumbered from his chair and went about his bedtime routine, he thought about tomorrow. The test drive was something he was excited about in a way he’d not experienced for many months. He’d have time alone with the delectable Sarah Hardy; if he managed things the right way, he’d be able to enjoy her company for at least an hour. An involuntary shudder passed through him as he thought of her.

The route he’d take was etched into his mind. As the test drive was scheduled for eleven, he wondered if it was possible he could entice her to grab a spot of lunch with him. Oh, how good that would feel, to walk into somewhere with her by his side. The sensation would make him feel ten-feet tall.

The man could only imagine what it’d be like to be seen in the company of someone like Sarah. There would be jealous looks from men; he’d see the other, less-attractive women glance at her and pull a face of dismay at her obvious superiority in the beauty stakes. There would, of course, be whispered insults. It would be claimed that she was only with him for his money. Some would assume that he was her father or uncle.

Perhaps, if he could get her to take his arm, that would dispel a lot of the naysayers, put them in their place and keep them from making the wrong assumptions.

He’d have to choose the venue with care though. It couldn’t be too swanky or he’d scare her, make her realise that buying her lunch was more than a friendly gesture. He’d also have to pick a busy place, one that was well known for its food; as much as he wanted to have her to himself, he also wanted to savour the admiring looks other men cast her way so he could revel in the envy shading their eyes.

As he turned on the bedside light he saw the trousers and shirt hanging on the wardrobe. He’d wear them with his old regimental tie. It carried less weight than it used to, but there was a time when it had earned him respect.

Like a child on Christmas Eve, he was going to bed earlier than usual so that tomorrow, and the joyous gratification the day would bring, would come sooner. He closed his eyes and pictured her: she was striding across the garage’s showroom, all dimpled smile and bouncing curls, when out of the corner of his imagination he caught a movement. It was the two cops. The younger, taller one with the beauty-defiling scar was pictured in crisp, high definition, whereas the dumpy inspector was blurry, out of focus.

That they’d shown up in his thoughts about Sarah was telling. He supposed that O’Dowd was only there because he thought of her and DC Young as a pair. He had no objections to Young populating his thoughts, even if she was gatecrashing on Sarah. Had it not been for the scar on her cheek, she would have been every bit as beautiful as the car saleswoman.

His thoughts centred on the two angels as sleep came for him.