(open)

George sat in the cafe with a cuppa and his newspaper. He'd been on Johnston's arse for so long he too was a regular now. He fiddled with the Jack o'Lantern on his table while keeping an eye across the room. The little turnip had been very artfully carved. Turnips were old fashioned, most people used pumpkins now. His gran always had a turnip hollowed out.

His gaze drifted to the other decorations. The place was done up well, little ghosts, jack o'lanterns, candles. He went back to his tea and waited.