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The last time I saw Vin and Jackie we were killing slugs The three of us had been smoking outside and then Vin had gone home early, leaving his wife and me alone in the porch light Across the paving stones I could make out a long, sleek line inching out of the glare   ‘Come and look at this,’ I said to her ‘They say you should put salt on them’   ‘Why? What happens?’   ‘I don’t know’ I’d never put salt on a slug before ‘It kills them,’ I said   She stood right next to me and our coats brushed together, making a whispering noise that we both pretended to ignore   ‘I could fetch some,’ I said ‘I could fetch some and see,’ and then disappeared inside   ‘This’ll do,’ I said, returning with a large vat of table salt, unsure, thinking really I should be using something else But I said it would do anyway, because it never does to look hesitant Uncertain of your next move I opened the spout on the packet and poured a stream the length of the slug It squirmed a little, lifting its head and tail into a kind of crescent moon and as we looked on it gradually dissolved before our eyes Dissolved into nothing but a patch of wet salt on the paving slabs, foaming at the edges   ‘That’s done it,’ she said, lighting another cigarette We did the same to a couple of others Then we went inside   There wasn’t anywhere to park when I arrived at theirs Cars end to end and up on the pavement Many of them bearing scars from running too close to the wall or where the thick, overhanging brush plants had scratched their paintwork I reversed as far as I could back down the road and then got stuck Vin leaned out of the window of their house and called at me to wait I turned off the engine and got out to meet him He had a can of beer in his hand and it slopped against my jacket as we hugged each other Then we both got back into the