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on the change of body odour, the dilation of their pupils, the almost imperceptible shift in their stance… Yeah, all she needed was a moustache and a Belgian accent.
    “Can I help you?”
    She turned to face the salesman. “I need a car for £600.”
    He raised his eyebrows in surprise. The guy looked in his early fifties and wore a suit that seemed a size too small for him. “Well, I’m not sure we have anything for as little as that.”
    Lie.
    “Yes, you do.”
    Again, his eyebrows went up. “Er—”
    “Look, just show me what you have for up to £600 so I can pick. I’m in a hurry, and there are other dealerships I can go to.”
    He coughed to clear his throat, but thankfully didn’t argue. Instead, he led her down the aisle towards the far end of the lot, but stopped before they got there. He absent-mindedly stroked his tie. “Nice to meet a lady who doesn’t beat around the bush,” he said, smiling at her again.
    Lie.
    She smiled sweetly back at him. “Something tells me you prefer us ladies more pliable.”
    His neck went red at that.
    There was a momentary pause as he struggled with how to reply, then he turned to his left. “Here we have a Ford Mondeo, 1998 reg, two previous owners with full service history.”
    “What’s wrong with it?” she asked, looking at him rather than the car.
    “Er … nothing. It’s in great condition.”
    Lie.
    She sighed. “Okay, next one?”
    He frowned at her, clearly unable to figure her out. “We only have one more in your price range—”
    Truth.
    “Where is it?”
    He led her a few yards further down the aisle, then gestured to her right. “Vauxhall Corsa. But it’s older, with more mileage than the Mondeo.”
    Truth.
    Fuck. She had no idea what to do… And that’s when it caught her eye.
    “That one!” she exclaimed, and bounded towards the faded red Toyota pick-up truck.
    The salesman looked bewildered. “It only just came in an hour ago. We haven’t had a chance to check it through yet, and if I’m going to be honest, it looks very worn out, even for a pick-up.”
    Go figure – he’s being honest.
    “I know, but … does it start? Has it got up-to-date papers and a valid MOT?”
    “One month left on the MOT I think, but the guy who dropped it off said the road tax is up in two weeks, and that it hasn’t been serviced in years. He wanted rid of it. I can’t guarantee it’s in any kind of good condition.” He pulled out his key chain from his pocket and rummaged around the cluttered ring for the right key. “Why this car, if you don’t mind my asking?”
    The real answer was that she could see herself holding her own behind the wheel. The truck was rough and ready, sturdy-looking and bolshy. If she had to stand up to any of her mates, she could do it behind the wheel of this truck without feeling under-confident.
    “It seems like it’ll outlast anything,” she said.
    He nodded. “Toyota pick-ups certainly are tenacious. They go for at least £1000 though, even twenty-five year old ones like this.” He handed her the key.
    Awesome! It was as old as her.
    She took the key, but trained her eyes on him, giving him what she hoped was her best puppy dog look and hoping her inner-wolf was cute and cuddly, rather than a shabby mongrel. “But you haven’t checked it out yet, and as long as it starts and moves, I’m prepared to take it off your hands so you don’t have to go through the hassle.”
    “Yes, but I’m losing £400. That kind of amount is—”
    “The labour saved from having to get it cleaned, serviced, catalogued onto your books and then trying to sell the heap of junk all over again, when you could have just sold it to me in the first place. Did I mention I have cash?” She didn’t wait for his reply, but opened the driver door and stuck the key in the ignition.
    It was slightly clunky to turn, but when the engine rumbled to life she nearly had a mini-orgasm. “Shit, she sounds good.”
    “You think?” asked the