They walked down the narrow cobbled street that led to the harbour, following the smell of onions, warm pastry and butter as they got closer to the Trevay Pasty Shop.
The front window was piled high with pasties of every size and flavour. Vegetarian, curry, lamb and mint, cheese and onion. Kevin pulled Richard in.
‘Two large traditional steak pasties, please,’ he said to the lady behind the counter.
‘Anything else, my love?’ she asked as she expertly slipped them into two paper bags and twisted the ends.
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