What happened is that a recovery agent from a firm my father’s office uses turned up with the documents and a spare key and my written authority, and the restaurant valet was shown it, and declined to bring the car round.
And my husband stood in a car park in front of his mother and his father and his sister and could not produce a single piece of paper.
He rang me eleven times between two and four o’clock.
I did not answer any of them and I have not listened to the voicemails and they are still on my phone.
And the eleven months before that pavement, which I have skipped over and which are the real subject of this.
