The orange turban

…lane, coming to rest outside the nastiest, dirtiest terrace in the nasty dirty street. The machine emitting its orange-turbanned Charon, that gentleman vey promptly sprang to and op’ed the rear door, from which aperture now stepped forth - ‘clambered’ does not do justice to her daintiness - that vision of loveliness the Lockleaze Persephone. The car she’d sat in, with its polished chrome, gleamed on the kerbside and its plush…