* * *
The old woman muttered to herself as she threaded a plastic-covered chain around the shopping trolley and padlocked it to the lamp-post. She checked that it was securely fastened before walking into the police station.
A uniformed sergeant looked up as she approached the counter. He smiled politely. “Hello, Annie, how are you today?” he asked
“I’ve seen Jesus,” said the old woman. “On the cross.”
“That’s nice,” said the sergeant. He was in his early fifties, with greying hair and a tired face from years of dealing with irate members of the public, but the smile he gave the old lady seemed genuine enough. “How about a nice cup of tea? Two sugars, right?” The sergeant called over the WPC, a slim brunette, and asked her to fetch the old woman a cup of tea from the machine in the reception area. The sergeant reached into his pocket and gave the WPC a few coins. “Milk, two sugars,” he said. The WPC gave the old woman a quizzical look. “Annie Lees, she’s a regular,” the sergeant explained. He lowered his voice to a conspirational whisper. “She’s harmless.”
The old woman stood up straight and glared at him through the thick lenses of her spectacles. “Young man, I am not harmless,” she said, her voice trembling with indignation.