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placed her hand on top of mine. ‘It won’t always be like this,’ she said softly.
    A couple of girls on a nearby table noticed and whispered to the others. I pulled my hand away and instantly regretted it.
    â€˜Sorry,’ said Scarlett. ‘I don’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable.’
    â€˜I’m not. You don’t. It’s fine. It’s just  … ’
    I wished I had left my hand there but the moment had passed. I selected another chip, hoping it would be warmer than the last one.

A Choice of Biscuits
    Liphook remembered Sergeant Copeland’s eyes as being the same light brown as the tea that he was always sipping. The day after the talk at the school, she was sitting opposite him in his office while he noisily slurped from his cup. He put it down and a droplet of milky brown liquid ran down the side, staining Liphook’s application for a transfer.
    â€˜I wouldn’t want you to rush into any decisions you might regret.’ Sergeant Copeland knitted his fingers together, then rested his hands on his round belly. ‘I know it’s not exactly all car chases and stake-outs but this kind of bread and butter community policing is very important. Now, which will it be? Digestive or bourbon?’
    â€˜I don’t want either, sir,’ snapped Liphook.
    Sergeant Copeland was a nice man and Liphook felt bad bringing up her request for a transfer again. Realising her refusal sounded overly curt, she added, ‘Thank you, though, sir. It’s very kind of you.’
    â€˜Come now, Liphook. You can’t really have a cup of tea without a biscuit, can you?’
    Deciding that the path of least resistance was easiest, Liphook took a digestive. She dunked it in the tea, but half of it broke off and dropped into the cup.
    â€˜I know what it’s like to be hungry, you know,’ said Sergeant Copeland. ‘I mean, for more than biscuits.’ He chuckled, spraying Liphook with a small shower of crumbs.
    â€˜Yes, sir,’ she replied, watching him take two more bourbons and shove them into his mouth.
    â€˜You’re hungry for adventure and excitement, but you need to remember that you have a long career ahead of you. There will be plenty of opportunity for that sort of thing. Please, give it a few more months here. These hills, this valley, these people  …  you’ll find they become a part of you.’
    â€˜I need to get out, sir. I’m sorry,’ said Liphook.
    â€˜And go where?’
    â€˜Anywhere.’ Liphook instantly regretted saying it. She knew that Sergeant Copeland took personal exception to her desire to leave but she desperately wanted to get some real policing experience under her belt. Seeing Copeland’s large, watery eyes fill with sadness, she did the only thing she could think of to cheer him up. She took another biscuit.
    Sergeant Copeland smiled. ‘Ah, the digestive. A very underrated biscuit. Unfairly overshadowed by its flashier, more chocolatey cousins but every bit as important. A dependable, honest biscuit. I thought a thrill seeker like yourself would prefer the bourbon.’
    â€˜In all honestly, sir, I’ve always found bourbons extremely disappointing.’ Sergeant Copeland let out a small gasp, but Liphook couldn’t stop herself.
    â€˜It pretends to be chocolate, sir, but it’s not. It’s a chocolate-flavoured, chocolate-coloured biscuit. If you’re going to eat a chocolate biscuit, then eat one. Or better still, have a chocolate bar, but don’t settle for this.’ She picked up a bourbon and waved it angrily at him. ‘This is a waste of everyone’s time. This can only fail, both as chocolate and as a biscuit.’
    Sergeant Copeland leaned forward and plucked the bourbon from her hand, then pointedly dunked it in his tea and gobbled it down. ‘Ah. This is nice, isn’t it? Sitting here, talking about biscuits.’
    Liphook