‘Absolutely, sir,’ I murmured, flashing a smile in the mirror. I didn’t receive so much as a crack of a grin back. It suited me; the quiet ones are less work.

I pulled out, making the driver in the battered BMW coming up behind me gesture in my direction with an angry scowl. Now, now. He had plenty of room to slow down. I reckon that anyone who gets irritated by something like that needs to sort their life out. If you’re getting stressed out by having to brake slightly, what happens to your equilibrium when your pipes burst or your kid gets suspended from school or your mum is diagnosed with cancer? It simply isn’t worth the effort to sweat the small stuff.

My passenger didn’t notice. He was fiddling with his jacket and his left eyebrow was twitching furiously, as if someone had attached it to an invisible piece of string and was yanking at it from above. I could have calmed him down, I suppose, but it probably wouldn’t have made any difference in the end. Instead I turned up the radio and got a hustle on. The faster we made it to Cutteslowe and I dropped this guy off, the faster I could get home and put my feet up.

We were just pulling off the main road towards the little suburb when I felt it. I hadn’t even noticed him lean forward – I’d been too preoccupied with the bus right in front of me – but when the cold metal pressed against the back of my neck, I knew exactly what was going on.

‘I want all your money,’ he hissed. ‘Now.’

A gun. Great. Why did I always end up with the psychotic idiots? I licked my lips. ‘Do you want me to get the money or do you want me to avoid ploughing into the back of the bus?’ I asked. ‘Because I’m not sure I can do both.’

There was a momentary pause. ‘Pull over here. And don’t think I won’t pull the trigger just because you’re a girl.’

I considered a smart response but in the end I shrugged and did as he asked. I turned off the engine but otherwise didn’t move.

‘Give me your fucking money.’ Perhaps he thought I was hard of hearing and it was important to repeat his request with added emphasis to make sure I didn’t misunderstand his intention.

I pursed my lips. ‘I don’t have much. None of us ever carry much. You know, in case someone puts a gun to the back of our head and demands it all.’

‘Listen, bitch…’

‘All I’m saying,’ I continued blithely, ‘is that perhaps you should weigh this up a little more. Risk versus reward. I’m not sure you’ve really thought this through and I’d like to give you another opportunity to do that.’ I softened my voice to show him that I was in earnest. ‘Everyone deserves a second chance.’

Unfortunately, my lanky gentleman wasn’t listening. He pushed the muzzle of the gun deeper into my flesh. Okay, that hurt. And I was starting to get irritated.