The hottest day of the hottest summer, she stood sweltering in the post office with her long dark hair, crowned in daisies, bell-bottomed dungarees and foul temper. A large post office in a medium-sized north midlands town on the edge of the English Peaks, full of hot locals and bored holiday-makers. The highlight of Sally’s day was waiting in the queue for her lover to turn up, waiting to get some money.

You need money when you want a holiday. She looked at the other people in the queue, resenting their wealth. Some seemed as poor as Sally, others seemed to ooze cash, ice-cream-faced babies in buggies, women with floppy hats, sweaty men in flares.

She was bored, wanted to go off, travel the world. It’s all very well being a hippy if you don’t mind peeing in a ditch, but she wanted to live in luxury, sleep in an air-conditioned double bed. Sleep in a bed would be a start. Why did she have to wait here so long? Why was the queue not moving? Where the hell was Jack?

She turned her back on the stinking crowd and looked out of the door, at least someone had had the sense to wedge it open.

A chrome and black motorcycle with sidecar pulled up, bearing two leather-clad figures with dark full-face helmets. The pillion leapt off before the bike had stopped moving and dashed in through the door, the rider sat with the engine throbbing between black leather legs.

"Everybody down!" The crowd screamed as they saw the gun. Sally backed into a stand containing leaflets and official forms. She felt a hand grab the bib of her dungarees and drag her towards the counter. She was spun round and had the gun pressed into the back of her head as she heard the gruff voice tell the counter-clerk to push money under the protective screen, "Or the girl gets it."

A plastic bag was shoved at Sally, into which she stuffed the notes that appeared from behind the counter. The clerk was shaking and another assistant in the background was flapping around. "You! Get down!" The assistant dove to the floor, Sally continued to fill the bag. "Come on, come on," she felt the grip on her shoulder tighten as the biker scanned the shop to check everyone was still down. A woman was whimpering and someone had their hand over a child’s mouth. Sally’s heart beat faster as she heard the siren in the distance. The bike outside revved up.

"That’s it!" screamed the biker and backed out of the shop, still dragging Sally, holding the bag of money and her neck with one hand, the gun to her head with the other.

They got to the bike as the police panda car pulled up. The bag was dumped in the sidecar and then Sally. "He’s got a gun!" she heard one of the policemen shout.

"Don’t come any closer or I’ll shoot the girl," the biker got back on the pillion as the police started to get back in the car. Sally’s head was pushed down between her knees in the sidecar and the gun held to the back of her neck. She clung to the money as the bike sped off, police in hot pursuit. The excitement of being pushed around and held down, along with the vibrations of the bike was almost unbearable, but she knew she couldn’t show she was enjoying it.

She wasn’t quite sure what route they took through the Peaks, her view reduced somewhat to her own feet, but she realised after a while as the bike slowed, that they’d lost the police.

The hand on the back of her head loosened and she tentatively sat up. Turning to check behind first, she looked at the pillion, who had lifted the visor of the helmet and was laughing. She smiled. The gun was pointed at her face and the trigger pulled.

"No witnesses," said Jack.

"You stupid git!" yelled Sally, wiping her face on her bare arm. "You nearly gave me a heart attack." Water dribbled down her cleavage and the wind felt icy against her wet face.

"You knew it was only a water pistol, baby."

"Come on, you two," came the voice from the front of the bike, "it’s not over yet."

Presently they pulled up to where they had parked the van earlier. Jack unlocked the back and pulled out some tools, Sally threw the money under a tarpaulin as Val, the rider, got out of her leathers in the back of the car.

Jack wrenched off his helmet and shook out the sweaty shoulder length brown curls that had been trapped under it. Sally slung her wig under the tarpaulin, running her fingers through her stubby blond hair and scratching her hot head.

Together, Jack and Sally unhitched the sidecar and lifted it into the back of the van as Val emerged, dressed in jeans, a red leather, and white, open faced helmet. As a finishing touch, they slung panniers full of food and clothes over the bike, just in case Val was stopped. There were plenty of bikers enjoying the sun in the Peaks after all.

Waving Val off, Sally and Jack got into the back of the van and quickly changed. Thankfully, Sally slid into her cool cotton hotpants as Jack reluctantly slipped out of his leathers to don a yellow and orange flowery dress. "You look beautiful, darling," laughed Sally.

"Gerroff!"

Sally drove as Jack glugged orange juice from a bottle, then held it to his lover’s mouth. They passed a police car going in the opposite direction on their way back towards the town. Sally’s heart skipped a beat, but they were ignored. Two women out for a drive. No-one gave them a second glance as they bypassed the town on their way home to Manchester, laughing all the way.