Meanwhile Gardens: An Urban Adventure
Written by Charlie Caselton

Chapter Eighty-Six - Crisis? What Crisis?
Nicky charged out of her house as soon as she saw Gem 'n Em come down the mews.
"I've phoned everywhere trying to find you, The Brasserie du Marché, La Galicia, Ruby in the Dust, even Bali Sugar - "
"That's abit above our price range angel."
"Where've you been?"
"At the Bel-Air Diner, child."
"In All Saints Road?" Nicky smacked her palm to her forehead. She should have known the small family run restaurant would have been where they were. "The most terrible thing has happened." She wailed as she followed Gem 'n Em up the stairs into their sitting room. "He's got it, he's got it," Nicky couldn't stop babbling. "after everything he's got it!"
Whilst Auntie Em opened a bottle of wine Auntie Gem sat Nicky down in one of the overstuffed armchairs on each side of the fireplace. "I mean she's got it, she's got it!" Feeling overwhelmed by pronouns Nicky simply wailed. "Oh they've got it!"
Auntie Em poured a glass of wine and gave it to Nicky. The photographer gulped it down in one before handing it back for a refill. Auntie Em obliged then went into her bedroom returning seconds later to the main room.
"I'm so stupid! How could I - ? Oh he'll kill me!"
"What are you talking about dear?"
Nicky looked up at Gem'n Em through tearfilled eyes. "The painting!" She sobbed. "Wayne's got it!"
"Well he would have done, " Auntie Em pulled out the miniature from behind her back and handed it to the distraught photographer. "If I hadn't gone into my room to check. Not that I didn't trust you angel." She said hurriedly.
Nicky looked at the original painting of Merlijnche de Poortje in her white stole. "Is this - " She blinked back the tears. She didn't have to finish the sentence for she could see it was the original. "Oh Auntie Em, imagine!" Nicky curled up in horror. "It would have been awful. I've been burning in Hell ever since I realised my mistake!"
"In these situations it's best to check and doublecheck. Isn't that right Auntie Gem?"
"That's what I taught you child." Gemma looked up for a second before turning her attention back to the report that so interested her.
Without being asked Auntie Em refilled Nicky's glass. The photographer gulped it down as she had the previous two, still finding it hard to believe the crisis was over. "Aren't you heading back to Primrose Hill?"
The photographer shook her head. "I'm going to get pissed Auntie Em. I think I've earned that - and - " She clinked glasses with Emma. " - so have you!"
Auntie Em put the bottle of wine beside Nicky. "I find I can't drink like I used to. It makes me so - so uncertain."
Nicky filled the glass to the brim but sipped this one more slowly. The feeling of unease that had plagued her all evening was slipping away. A couple more glasses and she could wave it goodbye.
"But if you have any of the other?" Auntie Em made a rolling motion with her fingers.
Nicky reached into her pocket for the two small joints Ollie had given her and put them on the table.
"And Rion's ok?"
The photographer nodded, "She's with Ollie,"

Chapter Eighty-Seven - A Face at the Porthole
Ollie woke early on Sunday morning after an eighteen-hour sleep and went for a jog. The canal was empty at that time, the anglers hadn't set up and, as Sainsbury's wouldn't be open for a while, there were no Sunday shoppers clogging the towpath. Since it was Hum's first jog since being assaulted Ollie decided to do the shorter run. Instead of turning left out of Meanwhile Gardens and heading for the cemetery he turned right and made his way down to Little Venice.
The run was painfully satisfying, every step a reminder of the abuse he had put his body through on the Friday night that had so easily stretched into Saturday afternoon. His creaky joints told of hours on various dancefloors, the sweat imbued his t-shirt with the residue of the poisons his body was eager to get rid of. Memories of the evening were characteristically vague and that was how Ollie preferred it. All that remained of the long night was the feeling that he had indeed enjoyed himself - and that was the main thing wasn't it? Wrapped up in his thoughts about Wayne Ollie soon found himself jogging past the string of canal boats on the approach to Little Venice.
Unbeknownst to him Rion lay trussed and gagged inside one of the prettily coloured barges. A crack in the curtains let in a bit of light and the outside world. The young girl couldn't believe her eyes when she saw Hum's face at the porthole.
The hound wagged his tail and began to bark upon seeing his friend.
Rion tried to say something but all that came out was a muffled throaty sound. With a Herculean effort she managed to get her hands free. Rion ripped the tape from her mouth, hopped over to the porthole and banged heavily on the glass. If Hum was there either Ollie or Auntie Em wouldn't be far away. "Help!" She yelled. "Hum!"
The door opened quickly, hands pulled her away from the porthole, snapped the small curtains shut and threw her back on the bed. Before she could scream Rion felt the now familiar, sickly sweet smell of chloroform and lost consciousness.

Hum's excited barking broke into Ollie's thoughts. He turned round to see the dog frantically pawing the side of a barge.
"Hum!" He called but as usual the hound was intent on doing his own thing. Ollie jogged back to find a rather frumpy couple coming up on deck. "Sorry." He said dragging Hum away.
"Is the door closed Ted?" The woman asked.
"Yes Mary." Her companion replied.
The woman smiled sweetly at Ollie. "We have cats you see."
Ollie clipped Hum to the lead. He carried on the short way to Paddington Basin before turning round and heading back the way he came. He was glad Hum was on the lead for the dog again went berserk as they passed the Longfelloe. This time the couple had been joined by someone else. Upon seeing Ollie the vaguely familiar looking man, wearing an oldfashioned Trilby, returned below decks.
"He doesn't normally mind cats." Ollie gasped as he passed them.
The couple smiled and waved. When Ollie was out of hearing range their manner changed. "That must never be allowed to happen again." Mary said angrily.
"We'll move her tonight." Gorby removed his hat and lightly drummed his fingers against his birthmark. "I've rostered everyone off. We won't be disturbed."
"Make sure we're not." Ted said curtly.
"But in any case I'll dose her up. She won't be giving us any trouble."

Ollie jogged slowly into the mews with Hum trotting at his heels. "Good boy!" The dog smiled up at him, his mischievous eyes shining behind his fringe.
"He's so much better isn't he?" Auntie Em called from the middle of the mews where she was loading the Citroen with a blanket and some baskets. She went to examine Hum. His cuts had almost healed, the bruising almost gone. The only sign of the vicious onslaught were several bald patches where assorted beaks had ripped the fur from his body. "We're going blackberrying on Wormwood. Care to join us?"
"Hum would I'm sure Auntie Em. I'd love to but Johnson's coming round for the TQ lunch - do you think Rion might like to go?"
"Are females allowed?"
"Of course they are - as guests. I'd like to get her together with Johnson again. He's been muttering something about needing an assistant for this Ultra column he's doing."
"Well, she could do that, couldn't she?"
"As long as Johnson doesn't bully her too much - do you think she can handle him?"
"I think you'll find Rion can handle most things. Johnson and a TQ lunch will be a breeze."
"Is she up yet anyway?" Ollie asked.
Auntie Gem, Sunday papers in hand, joined Emma by the car. "Let her sleep in. She probably needs it after a night out with you."
Ollie thought Auntie Gem had made a mistake, had said 'you' instead of 'Nicky', but before he could correct her she carried on.
"I've put a map through her door saying where we'll be."
"At the magic bush at the top of the Scrubs?"
There was one particular blackberry bush on Wormwood Scrubs that, like some plant of myth and legend, could be stripped of fruit one day only for the next its brambles to be full of the sweet juicy berries. It fruited much earlier than the others due, some said, to it being situated above an ancient spring that warmed its roots.
"Where else?" Auntie Em bent down to stroke the dog. "Hum seems to be on the mend sweetness." She straightened up to look him level in the eye. "What about you?"
"I'm ok." Ollie answered honestly.
Auntie Em looked at Gemma. "Shall we tell him?"
"You can't say something like that in front of someone," Ollie protested. "unless you are going to tell them."
Auntie Gem took a deep breath. "Tell him."
When they had finished the story about Candida, about Wayne, about the real and the fake Merlijnche de Poortje, about everything except how Nicky had nearly ruined it all - that could wait for a later date - Ollie just smiled. "You know, I thought I'd be more cut up about Wayne but I'm not and that," Ollie paused for a second to think through his words. "makes me feel surprised and pleased."
Auntie Gem put her arm around him. "It makes us feel surprised and pleased too child."
"Maybe I'm growing up eh?"
"Maybe." Auntie Em planted a gentle kiss on his cheek. "But aren't you going to ask if it's true?"
"Oh, I know it's true. You know how?"
Gem 'n Em shook their heads.
"I saw a number on his mobile. At the time I wasn't sure whose number it was but now - " Ollie looked around him. " - well there's no doubt it was Candida's." Ollie smiled. "Basically he was a hired gun wasn't he?"
Auntie Em nodded. "More like a sex pistol I'd say sweetness."

Chapter Eighty-eight - Hungry Hearts
"Just how much do you remember of Friday night?" Johnson asked Ollie.
They were in the middle of a group of twelve gay men seated around a table in the basement of the Hungry Hearts Diner. The restaurant on Kensington Park Road was the venue for the 'Tragedy Queen of the Week' club to decide who, amongst them, had had the most pitiful week and so was worthy of the title. Johnson had been begging Ollie to take him for ages.
"Not much. The normal really, rampaging through Soho, a couple of e's.."
"How Essex." Simon sniffed from opposite.
"And so last century." Peter added beside him.
"...clubbing at Popstarz," Ollie continued. "then afterhours at some dive south of the river before staggering back here and going to bed yesterday afternoon."
"The only tragic thing about that." Johnson sighed. "is that I can't do it anymore."
"And StJohn didn't pop up at any time?" Lyle asked from the far end of the table.
The mere mention of the name was still enough to make Ollie furious and sad at the same time. He did have a fleeting memory of StJohn's loathsome face looming out of the blur of the evening. Ollie wasn't sure if this could be classified under reality or false-memory-induced-by-hallucinogenic-drugs syndrome. Ollie managed to rein in his feelings before answering Lyle.
"I can't really remember too much, I was trying to put things in place on my run - "
"You run?" Peter squealed, "God, how butch!"
"Don't knock it - jogging tightens up everything." Murray said. "I tried it once but," He dismissed the subject with a flutter of his hands. "it was too much effort."
"Does wonders for your calves though."
"Yes," Johnson agreed. "but it's easier to get implants." He was enjoying himself immensely. "I know the most - "
They were stopped by a rap on the table. "Boys, be quiet." Tim commanded. The banker was chairman for the week and had been running a tight ship. "It's Ollie's turn."
"I bet StJohn remembers." Lyle continued. "Afterall a fist in the face is pretty hard to forget."
Peter nudged Alan. "I told you he's butch." He whispered.
"So what if I did hit him?"
"There's no what if's about it Ollie. He has the shiner to prove it."
"He's lucky it wasn't worse then isn't he?"
Murray looked questioningly at Johnson who whispered behind his hand. "StJohn was driving the car in which James died."
Lyle leant forward on his elbows. "He says if you ever go near him again - "
"Don't tell me what he says. If StJohn wants to say anything he can tell me to my face."
Although normally thriving on any sort of drama the table had hushed to a rather threatening silence. Again Tim took control. "Well." The Chairman cleared his throat. "I don't think having a night out in Soho - even if you did descend into Essex type drugs - "
"It must have been Wayne's influence - he was from Dagenham you know." Johnson threw in.
" - counts as anything tragic." Tim continued. "And whilst having a handsome hunk ditch you - "
"And rip you off." Ollie pointed out.
" - merits a couple of points it's nothing that hasn't happened to several of us - "
Even though it was Johnson's first TQ lunch he threw himself into the proceedings with all the ease of a founder member. "You should be so lucky!"
"Lucky, lucky, lucky" Alan sang in imitation of Kylie.
"Wayne was - and I hate to use the term but nothing else will suffice - drop dead gorgeous and sure, it might be seen by some that to have someone paid to seduce you - "
Ollie had a feeling that wouldn't go unnoticed.
"Wait!" Peter called from the end. "Did you say 'having someone paid to seduce you?"
Johnson nodded.
"Well, that's pretty trashy and should get a couple of extra points - Tim?" Peter looked at the chairman.
"You should be so tragic!" Johnson interrupted.
"Tragic, tragic, tragic." Several voices chimed before subsiding into giggles.
"If any of you," Johnson gestured around the table. "had seen this guy you would have been throwing money at him to get him to even smile at you. It wasn't like Ollie was paying him."
"Still a couple of extra points are due for the novel twist." Tim confirmed. "Did he say he loved you?"
Ollie shook his head. "No."
"So what's the harm?"
"It just sounds like uncomplicated, no-strings-attached adult sex."
"Does anyone remember such a thing?"
"Is there such a thing?"
"Johnson was right." Murray finished off his glass and poured another all in one fluid motion. "The tragedy is it didn't happen to us."
Alan couldn't see what all the fuss was about. "It just sounds like a very early Christmas present to me." He said raising his glass to Ollie.
An early Christmas present? Ollie smiled. That's how he would choose to see Wayne.

Chapter Eighty-nine - A Surprise Winner
The final vote was decided on over coffee, brandies and cigars for those who wished.
Ollie waved away the waiter who proffered the box of Havanas. "I loathe the things."
"Me too." Johnson said. "If I'm going to put an eight inch Cuban in my mouth it's not for smoking - you know what I'm saying?"
"I hear you!" Murray, smiling flirtatiously, moved closer to Johnson.
"He said an eight inch Cuban not a one inch Scotsman, Murray." Jason hissed from Ollie's left.
The chairman rapped on the table. "I've tallied up."
Talking immediately ceased. All eyes were on Tim.
"Whilst Alan scores for being mistaken for Prince Edward and Peter scores for not being mistaken for Prince Edward, Murray scores for being thrown out of the Met Bar after being sick over Stella and Gwyneth.."
"It was only over their shoes!" Murray exclaimed, giving Johnson's leg a quick squeeze under the table.
"Lyle doesn't score for having his best friend punched by another member here."
All eyes looked at Ollie.
"That's really vicarious tragedy and doesn't count. I get some marks for booking a massage and only getting a massage - "
"Shall we get out of here?" Johnson whispered to Murray who nodded enthusiastically. The lifestyle enhancer took out his platinum American Express card and flashed it at the waiter. The gesture didn't go unnoticed by Tim.
"But the rest of you - whilst it might have been upsetting to have ugly scaffolders outside your house - "
"They were a fright," Peter piped up, "all the neighbours could see."
" - and being clamped is no doubt a pain it doesn't come under the heading of 'tragedy,' Ollie scores for having his dog being beaten up by some geese and other aspects of his situation have certain merits but, on balance, the tragedy queen for this week for having cruised his own father is - "
Before the Chairman could finish Johnson again flashed his platinum American Express card in the air.
Tim corrected himself. "Sorry, was going to be Simon. We have a new winner, a late entrant." Tim grabbed Johnson's credit card and waved it at the others. The sight of the platinum card elicited a few 'Ooohs' and knowing smiles. "The winner on account of having a platinum American Express card, and therefore having to pay for everyone's lunch, is Johnson Ogle."
Tim sat down to much applause.
"But I - " Johnson glared accusingly at Ollie. "You should have told me!"
"Then I wouldn't have had a free lunch."
Johnson then looked at Murray who threw up his hands. "Nor me."
Johnson pretended to be hurt but secretly was rather pleased. In his world any attention was better than being ignored, any prize better than nothing.

Chapter Ninety - Where Could She Be?
Ollie came back to the mews to find Auntie Em outside his house. In one hand she held a tray on which were three small bowls covered with clingfilm. With the other she knocked on his door.
Ollie ran up and took the precariously wobbling tray from her. "Here, let me."
"I was just going to put these in your fridge." Auntie Em said taking one of the bowls from the tray.
"Good day?" He asked.
"Wonderful angel," Auntie Em gestured triumphantly to the bowls that were filled with blackberries. "the first of the season!"
She left a bowl on Ollie's doorstep before crossing to the house opposite. Nicky's door opened after a single knock.
"For you sweetness." Auntie Em handed her offering to the photographer.
"Mmmmm!"
"There's something rather satisfying about picking your own food isn't there?"
"The old hunter/gatherer instinct?" Ollie wasn't so sure. "I think it would pall if you had to do it everyday."
"I'm quite happy with the bartering system - you know, 'I give you money you give me what I want'." Nicky said.
"I'm not talking about the basics, - pulling up potatoes, cropping cabbages - "
"You don't like cabbage Auntie Em."
" - harvesting beans - "
"Or beans." Ollie reminded her.
"Work with me here angel." She paused. "But the yummy stuff, picking berries, finding scallops on the beach, fishing for salmon. That I would find rewarding you know?"
"Perhaps." Ollie said half-heartedly.
"Still the ideal would be to have Mr Christians deliver wouldn't it?"
"When are they going to start that anyway?" Ollie asked.
Nicky shrugged her shoulders. "No time would be too soon." She looked at the single remaining bowl on the tray. "Is that for Rion?"
"It would be greedy to have two sweetness."
"No, I mean is she in?"
Auntie Em looked at Ollie who shrugged his shoulders. "There was no answer when I knocked at about one 'o clock." He said.
"I knocked yesterday afternoon but she must have been out." Nicky said.
"She would have been sleeping it off after her night out with our boy here."
Puzzled by the remark Ollie looked at Auntie Em. "She wasn't out with me. I haven't seen her since Friday night." He said. "I left her waiting for Nicky at Primrose Hill."
"But you didn't go back did you sweetness?"
"You know I didn't Auntie Em." Nicky replied.
Emma looked worried. "So you both haven't seen her since Friday night?"
"No." They said in unison.
Ollie ran over to the door of lA at the entrance to the mews. "Rion!" He shouted before giving the front door three sharp knocks.
When there was no reply Auntie Em took the spare key from the large metal chain and let herself in. "Rion?" She called up the stairs. "It's only us." Followed by Ollie and Nicky she went up the stairs into the empty sitting room. Everything looked untouched since Friday. The door to the bedroom was closed. "Rion?" She called again cheerily. Auntie Em put the bowl of blackberries in the fridge before approaching the closed bedroom door. "Rion?"
Ollie and Nicky hung back as Emma knocked on the door then entered. The bedroom was as empty as the rest of the house.
"It doesn't look like the bed's been slept in."
"Where else could she be?" Auntie Em asked.
"I know she had plans to visit Jake yesterday."
"Let's see if she turned up. If not - " Auntie Em didn't allow herself to think of what might have happened. "Let's cross that bridge when we come to it shall we?" She said hastily.
Ollie immediately went outside to phone St Mary's. When he came back up the stairs his face said it all. "We're going to have to cross that bridge Auntie Em." He said. "She never showed up yesterday."

Chapter Ninety-one Where Am I?
Rion felt dreadful. She had a splitting headache and was chilled to the bone. She thought twice about opening her eyes not knowing what she'd find before them. So many times she'd awoken recently to find the oddest things going on. People approaching her, stroking her hair and saying, "She's perfect. Just perfect."
She could remember walking with Gorby down the canal after the fireworks and then waking up restrained on a boat, she had some dim memory of seeing Hum's face at the porthole, of some peculiar long swords, of being taken on the boat somewhere at night, hurried through darkness, the whistle of a train - and now where was she?
It had all seemed like a dream yet she had felt very much awake throughout - very much awake but unable to talk, unable to move.
She remembered repeatedly trying to pinch herself yet found she couldn't. However now she tried and could definitely feel her fingers on the top of her wrist. What's more her hands weren't restrained and, she moved her legs, nor were her feet.
Maybe it had all been a dream. Maybe this time when she opened her eyes she would find herself with her new family in Meanwhile Gardens Mews. She would be lying on her bed with the window wide open - that must be why she was so cold.
Realising she couldn't wait any longer, Rion slowly opened her eyes. She was in a small enclosed space that at first glance appeared to be a bricked in railway arch. In front of her metal bars ran from floor to vaulted ceiling, cutting Rion off from the front of the chamber. Directly opposite, on the other side of the bars, a dusty, highbacked chair faced her. The whole space had an odd sacrosanct, almost ghostly feel to it. This effect was increased by the lone candle flickering in an alcove by the enormous iron door, which, for some reason, had a peephole in it looking out.
This last bit of information confused her. If she was in prison surely the peephole would be outside looking in?
As her eyes adjusted to the gloom Rion could see the elaborate chair was covered in what once must have been expensive, dark green velvet. Dulled silver studs formed a pattern on the seatback. To one side and behind her was a wall, the bricks had long ago lost their red warmth and were now a cold, grimy grey. A fine mesh grille separated Rion from the other part of the rear chamber so that, in all, she was caged in a quarter of the damp space. On the other side of this finer mesh large boxes had been piled up on evenly spaced shelves that rose to the ceiling.
So she was in a railway storage arch, perhaps beneath a station - that was clear - but what was she doing here? And how was she going to escape? She listened for the rumble of trains but couldn't hear any.
Everything was deeply silent.

Chapter Ninety-two - Run-run-run-run-run-runaway
"And you say she was homeless?" The Inspector asked, his pen poised over his notebook.
Auntie Em nodded. "Before she came here she was anyway."
"She had family in Bridlington I think." Ollie added.
"So she was a runaway?"
Ollie exchanged a glance with Auntie Em and Nicky realising how that made it sound.
"Well - "
"Did you also say she was sixteen?"
"And a half." Ollie added helpfully.
The Inspector closed the notepad with a deft flick of the wrist. "Emma." He began before correcting himself. "Ms Nelson. In our experience we've found that most of these teenage runaways return home."
"Unless they're captured by darker forces first." Nicky said indignantly.
"She wasn't hanging around King's Cross was she?"
"Not that I know of."
"Or the amusement arcades in Soho?"
Nicky shook her head.
The Inspector sighed. "We haven't much to go on at this stage. I'll put the word out, we'll try and locate her parents and if she hasn't turned up by the end of the week we'll go from there. Have you a likeness of her?"
"I do." Nicky dashed into her studio, returning to the mews with a photo she had taken of Rion after Johnson's shoot.
Ollie felt a wrench to his stomach when he looked at the picture. It was a hauntingly beautiful black and white image of Rion with her hair falling around her shoulders. "This makes her look older than she is." He said.
The Inspector put the picture with his notepad. "We'll be in touch." As he made his way out of the mews he stopped and turned round.
"I suppose Sir, that you have an alibi for Friday night?"
Ollie looked at him in disbelief.
"He has to ask angel." Auntie Em whispered.
"I'm sure StJohn StJohn will vouch for me."
They watched until the policeman had disappeared around the corner.
"I thought you said he was tame." Ollie protested.
"He is, but there's nothing much he can do - "
"Until a body turns up?"
"Oh angel don't say it."
"Don't even think it." Nicky said glumly.
"It's all my fault. I should never have said she could move into the unlucky house. It was bound to happen."
"I should never have left her."
"And I should have gone back for her!" Nicky wailed.
Ollie put his arms around both women. "C'mon we can't all reach for the blame - if that was the case none of us are guilty and all of us are guilty."
"You know this time of year as summer moves into autumn and life begins to fade," Auntie Em blew her nose. "was considered by our ancestors to be one of the most dangerous times of the year, when the barriers between the real world and the 'Otherworld' break down and people are - " she gave a little sob, "lured to their death!"
Ollie had never seen Auntie Em this distraught. "We don't know if anything's happened to her. Maybe she met some friends - "
"She only knew us!"
"Maybe she went back to Bridlington to get some things and forgot our numbers."
"She wouldn't have forgotten Jake in hospital would she?" Auntie Em asked.
"It's unlikely." Ollie had to admit.
"And she wouldn't have missed her chance at Ultra either."
"She's only been missing three days - " Ollie said.
"Today's the fourth!"
"How would you feel if someone said to you, 'You've only been hungry for three days?"
"Or, 'You've only been in pain for three days?" Nicky added.
"Three days is a long time angel."
"Five minutes can be an age, I mean ten seconds can seem like forever if you're frightened."
"Ok. OK." Ollie put up his hands to stop the attack. "But what are we going to do?"

Chapter Ninety Three - Angie on the case
Angie Peters scooped the tarlike liquid from the jar with the tiny teaspoon provided. She melted it in the hot water, screwed up her nose and took a sip. Angie hated the taste of the ginseng but was told it would give her energy whilst keeping her calm.
Boy did she need that.
Her work alone, she thought, practically required ginseng be fed intravenously without even touching on her husband's problems. Poor Edwin would need something aged and malted to get through his crises. He would probably also require chemical compounds, large letters with smaller numbers after them, - homeopathy just didn't get a look in under such circumstances.
Pinching her nose she took another sip of the foul liquid and perused the photographs in front of her. They were good, of course, but there was one that particularly intrigued her. The editor of Ultra picked up the phone and dialled. "Nicky? Sweetheart it's Angie here. The shots are great."
"Which one are you going to use?"
"Hmmmm. The one half in shadow will be perfect for the byline but for the main picture?" The editor glanced at the pictures again. "The one with Johnson's foot on that rather attractive bench."
Nicky was pleased as it would give Ollie a credit. "That's the one I would use."
"Is the furniture maker a friend of yours by any chance?" The editor knew how these things worked.
Unwilling to appear too incestuous Nicky deflected the question. "Ollie? He's a friend of Johnson's."
"Then perhaps Johnson can feature him in his column." Angie held her nose and took another sip of the disgusting potion before continuing. "One picture in particular caught my attention."
"Oh?"
"I don't know why you included it but it's a young girl, interesting looking, slightly haunted?"
"That must be Rion." Nicky hoped she sounded more surprised than she felt. She had never been much good at lying. "She's Johnson's new assistant. We were playing around with the film after the session ended."
"Could you get her in?"
"I - er - wish I knew how to contact her." Nicky said truthfully.
"I'll be in touch."
Angie had clicked off the phone and pressed Johnson's speed-dial before the photographer had a chance to say goodbye.
"Johnson darling, it's Angie."
"Angie."
The editor thought Johnson's voice sounded uncharacteristically muffled but bubbled on regardless.
"We have the pictures back. You're going to love them. Nicky might have taken ten much needed pounds off Jim James but she's taken twenty years off you." The editor waited for Johnson's gleeful remarks that were very slow in coming. "And you didn't even need it sweetheart." She joked still waiting for some expression of joy at the news. "You look 24 in most of them!" Again she waited. "Johnson?"
"Sorry Ange, I'm not myself today."
"How's your column?"
Johnson sighed. "Rather limp but nothing a good dose of viagra couldn't cure."
"The magazine column Johnson."
"In the same state I'm afraid. My assistant - "
"I was just going to ask about her! Nicky put in a photo with your lot and she's just-" "- vanished Angie."
"Sorry?"
"She's vanished. Disappeared off the face of the earth. It's too sad. Ollie - "
"The furniture maker?"
"Designer." Johnson corrected. "He thinks something terrible has happened to her. The police aren't interested at the moment. It's all just awful."
"She's probably just met someone."
Johnson sounded doubtful. "She didn't seem to be the type."
"They never do, do they? She'll turn up, you'll see."
"The column might have to wait."
So that's what this is about Angie thought. "We can help with that sweetheart, just give us a couple of ideas."
Johnson made some noncommittal sound down the phone.
"We could do something on your friend Ollie - that would be easy wouldn't it?"
Johnson brightened up. "And someone could ghost it for me?"
"That's what we're here for sweetie." The editor swirled the ginseng dregs around the glass, grimacing as she swallowed for the final time. "You know you can call me anytime but especially call if your assistant shows up - she'll be perfect for something here. What did you say her name was?"
"Rion. Rion Ward."

Chapter Ninety-four - A Good Performance
It hadn't been a good few days for Sir Edwin Peters. The week had started badly and got worse. The unfavourable report had come out on Monday, depressing the shareholders and the value of the shares. Events had so compounded that he now found himself being interviewed by some arrogant little prick on 'Business This Week'.
The only consolation he could wrest from this ghastly situation is that no one watched the lunchtime programme. Who in their right minds would?
"On Monday the report appeared in SCIENCE about independent investigations into 'Peters & Peters' the UK's largest organic, environment-friendly, pesticide manufacturer"
The answer came through to him as he listened to the interviewer witter on: his shareholders and prospective shareholders would be watching, he thought gloomily - that's who.
"You described your pesticides as 'like a neutron bomb' - that doesn't sound like a very environmentally friendly claim does it Sir Edwin?"
"On the contrary," Sir Edwin replied. "it sounds like the most environmentally friendly claim of all. The insects and baddies are all killed whilst the flowers, fruit and cell structure of the plant remain intact."
"But how did Peters & Peters change, almost overnight, from chemical usage to organic? Normally it takes years - "
Sir Edwin interrupted him. "But it did take years. It merely seemed overnight." He grated his teeth behind the smile he flashed at the interviewer. God, he needed a Scotch. "I would remind you that the plant had been passed by the D.T.I. on no less than four separate occasions."
"So the leakage - "
"Well, of course a part of the company remained producing - er - " Sir Edwin racked his brain for the right word. " - unorganic - " Was that the correct term? " - er - material but that section was away from the main production centre. To my knowledge the leak has been found and checked."
"Is there anything not to your knowledge?"
Sir Edwin slowly counted to ten. "Does the Queen know everything about what goes on at Buckingham Palace?" Sir Edwin hoped his voice didn't betray his annoyance. He had been advised to stay calm and contrite. "Does the Prime Minister know everything about his party? Does - "
Just as Sir Edwin was warming to this theme the interviewer interrupted. "Judging by the recent expulsions I would say the Prime Minister makes it his business to know everything about his party."
"Obviously things happen without my knowledge but as chairman of Peters & Peters the buck must stop with me." Sir Edwin turned to look directly at the camera. "I take full responsibility for whatever has happened."

Watching their boss's performance on TV the staff of Peters & Peters judged it to be quite an honest one. As they drifted back to work Auntie Gem sought out Mr Paul.
"Is he guilty?" She asked the young assistant manager.
"Of what?"
"Poisoning the canal?"
Mr Paul thought for a moment. "Perhaps we went too quickly," He said tactfully. "It's like Olympic athletes - "
Auntie Gem looked blank.
"The unknown ones?" Mr Paul prompted. "They come out of nowhere to win three gold medals. I mean progress like that doesn't go unaided does it?"
Auntie Gem was sure it didn't. "So what aided him?"
Mr Paul rubbed his thumb over his forefingers. "Friends at the DTI."
"And he knew all along?"
Mr Paul smiled. "What do you think?"
Auntie Gem wasn't sure what to think but, remembering how dangerously ill Jake had been as well as the devastation of the fish, eels and frogs, she knew what to do.

Chapter Ninety-five - A Dutiful Wife
Angie was waiting for her husband upon his return from the Business This Week studio. She had placed a bottle of Laphroaig on a silver salver in plain view on the hall table. Beside it two empty tumblers waited expectantly. Also on the salver was a porcelain pill box containing two of his favourite pink pills.
Edwin's weary face lit up when he saw her. "Things can't get any worse can they? I mean, they can't take away my knighthood or anything can they?"
Angie thought it might well be grounds for divorce if they could.
"I'm sure they can't darling." She said in her most soothing of voices. Picking up the silver salver she moved through to the elegant sitting room. This was perhaps Angie's favourite room in the house. With its view over the garden, its large Conran sofas and its 'real' antique furniture it always reminded her of how far she had come.
"I have something to tell you."
Edwin looked at the floor. "Go on. Tell me you have a lover, tell me you want a divorce. Kick a man when he's down why don't you?"
"Don't be silly Edwin." Angie crossed over to the marble fireplace, switched on the gas and lit the bowl of fake coals that glowed so convincingly real. "By tomorrow everything will be ok."
All it had taken were a few calls to confirm that Rion Ward was indeed on the missing register. After that another call brought her the result she wanted.
"Trust me."
The early November sun threw feeble rays across the room as she told her husband what she had done.

Chapter Ninety-six - Twins
Rion thought it had been three days since she had been taken from the barge but couldn't be sure.
Most of the time she was kept in the near-darkness of what she had now decided was not, in fact, a railway arch but some kind of cellar, an old coalhole perhaps or some other sort of bunker. Rion still couldn't figure out who the elaborate chair belonged to or what the boxes on the shelves on the other side of the cellar contained but she was in no real hurry to find out.
She also wondered about the two peculiar swords beside the door.
Her watch told the time but she only knew if it was the witching hour or lunchtime if someone was there with her. There was no sense of night or day in the secret place where they had hidden her.
Rion still didn't have a clear idea of who 'they' were, or what 'they' wanted, but she had a feeling that when things were clear they might not be too pleasant.
A distant scraping, a muffled clang followed by footsteps on flagstones heralded the arrival of one of her keepers but which one would it be? Gorby? Ted? Mary? Or the new one?
The door opened with a groan. Age and damp had swelled the heavy oak so that it needed a push to make a gap wide enough for a person to slip through.
"Oh it's you." She was relieved to see it was the new one. A silent young man entered. His pointed eyes were set too close together, a tightly cropped beard moulded the shape of his chin. In his hand he carried a brown paper bag.
"Don't close the door." Rion said trying to peer through the gap into the dimly lit corridor. In the few seconds before the timer kicked in she saw shadowy, barred alcoves much like her own. "It's so stuffy in here, the fire gives me a headache - can't you turn it off for a while?"
After the initial chill of the first day a gas fire had been brought in and left on permanently. She had also been given a man's thick Arran sweater, which smelt of damp, an old duvet and several blankets that softened up the worn mattress.
Despite her repeated questioning no one would tell her why she was being held prisoner. The fact that she was being looked after, or at least not overly mistreated, reassured her in some way. Perhaps they had got the wrong person, perhaps they thought she was the daughter of some incredibly rich, doting father who would pay a king's ransom to see his daughter again.
Perhaps.
The thing that worried her about this scenario was what they would do when they found out: 1) her family had no money and 2) her family couldn't care less what happened to her.
"Are you going to talk to me today?" She asked. In reply the young man handed a styrofoam cup of soup and a clingfilm wrapped sandwich through the bars to her.
Hearing the ticking timer click on Rion again tried to peer through the gap in the door but the young man blocked her view.
What she saw next threw her more than slightly.
Another young man, the spitting image of the one already in the room, stuck his head around the door.
Rion suddenly had a dreadful thought - was the heater spewing poisonous fumes that were affecting her vision? "Please turn the fire off." She said shakily. Rion held onto the bars to stop her legs buckling. "I think it's leaking."
She took a deep breath to steady herself then realised that, if the fire was leaking gas, this might be the wrong thing to do. Unsure whether to hold her breath or not she sat down on the mattress. Rion hoped that when she opened her eyes there would only be one of the young men like there had been yesterday.
It was not to be.
The mirror image entered the room and whispered to his twin who repeatedly pointed to the other side of the fine mesh grille. Ignoring Rion who had slumped on the mattress they put their noses right up to the bars on the other side and peered through at Rion knew not what.
Satisfied at what they saw they stepped back and turned their attention to Rion. Again the first twin hurriedly whispered to his brother.
"Can't you let me out just to over there?" Rion gestured to where the twins stood on the other side of the bars beside the elaborate chair. "You can close the door - it's not like I'm going to run anywhere is it?"
This question brought another bout of whispering during which the recently arrived twin, who it was clear was the senior, kept his eyes on her.
"We'll turn the fire off, and maybe let you come out here, if you do something for us." Senior said.
Rion immediately noticed he had a slight country burr to his voice. She got up from the mattress but stayed near the back wall. "Like what?" She asked suspiciously.
"A favour for a favour." He replied.
Rion was surprised to find Senior didn't have a creepy smirk like Gorby did, or even a threatening grin like Ted & Mary, but rather a natural, almost friendly, sort of smile.
"Such as?"
Senior nodded to Junior who took a large key from a nail on the wall. After some fumbling he managed to open the latch allowing the bars to swing open.
Rion felt momentarily confused without the barrier in front of her. Cautiously she stepped through into the other side of the cellar. She ran her fingers along the handrest of the once grand chair.
"Whose is this?"
"The Countess of Rosleagh's."
Rion sat gingerly on the faded green cushion causing a small cloud of dust to flare up. She looked up at the twins. "But what is it doing here?"
Senior gestured in front of her to the part the twins had been so interested in, the part screened from her side by a fine mesh grill. "She wanted to be with her family."
For the first time Rion looked through the bars to this hitherto concealed side. On the middle shelf directly at eye level, Rion saw what could only be a large coffin.

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