The terrace

…Lexus sleekly not to say incongruously purred up the sodden 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…