Porter […] was up a step ladder behind the counter, re-lining the shelves with fresh paper.
‘Evening.’
‘I told you it wouldn’t take me long, didn’t I?’
‘What did you do, throw half of ’em over a hedge?’
‘No need. I know some short cuts coming back.’
‘I’ll bet you do, over people’s property, no doubt.’
‘No, across some fields. It cuts miles off.’
‘It’s a good job t’farmer didn’t see you, else you might have got a barrel of shotspred up your arse.’
‘What for? There was only grass in ’em.’
Billy folded the bag in half and placed it on the counter.
‘Not on there. You know where it goes.’
Billy walked round the counter and squeezed past the step ladder. Porter […] watched him open a drawer […] and stuff the bag inside.
‘You’ll be wanting me to take ’em round for your next.’