Meanwhile Gardens: An Urban Adventure
Written by Charlie Caselton

Chapter Fifty-five - You're a Genius
Ollie waited three days before calling. When he did he made sure to have Auntie Em next to him.
The phone was answered on the third ring. "Wayne? It's Ollie here from - "
Wayne cut him off. "Hi mate! I thought you'd found someone else for the job."
Ollie was pleasantly taken aback at the warmth of the greeting.
"I was going to stop in but I've been on the other side of town."
So that explains why he hadn't seen the pick-up, Ollie thought. He had wandered past the restaurant site several times a day for the past few days hoping to bump into Wayne, but hadn't seen hide nor hair of the builder.
"I could do the job for £595 all in."
"One second." Ollie put his hand over the mouthpiece and looked at Auntie Em. "595?"
Auntie Em returned his look with more than a hint of suspicion. "You didn't tell him he couldn't go above 600 did you sweetness?"
"No!" Ollie grinned. "I thought about it though."
"Well, if he's useless we'll know soon enough. When can he start?"
Ollie uncovered the mouthpiece. "When can you start Wayne?" He tried to keep from sounding overenthusiastic.
"Monday alright for you?"
"Monday?" Ollie mouthed to Auntie Em who grimaced her consent.
"Monday it is then." Smiling Ollie clicked off the phone.
Auntie Em sighed. "There's something about him...."
"Isn't there just?"
"I know lust is blind, angel, but I can't quite put my finger on it." Auntie Em shook her head. "It's probably nothing." But something was definitely troubling her about the builder.
Wayne yawned, stretched and got out of bed. He could get used to these jobs and this one was turning out a treat. Candida Hapshill was paying him for information on, and the possible retrieval of, some dumb painting AND he was going to be paid for doing a glorified cleaning job.
He looked at himself admiringly in the full-length mirror and smiled. You're a genius Wayne Watson, there's no doubt about it.

Chapter Fifty-six - A Deaf Goose
Today was the first day that Rion was officially allowed out of the house. And she was going to take full advantage of it.
In what she hoped would become a regular habit Rion collected Hum from Ollie and walked Auntie Gem along the canal to work.
She breathed in lungfuls of air, happy that the painful wheeze had finally gone.
They had just passed Ha'penny Bridge when Rion saw the first one.
"What's that Auntie Gem?" Rion pointed to something floating amongst the rushes.
Auntie Gem moved closer to the canal bank. Squinting past the cans and burger cartons in the reeds she saw a greyish/black object bobbing in the water. "It's a pipe, child, rubber tubing or whatnot."
Rion moved closer but pulled back suddenly when Auntie Gem's rubber tubing turned belly up to reveal a white-scaled underside.
"Ugh!" Rion could see that, apart from having scales, the object had the ugliest of faces.
Auntie Gem could now see the thing for what it was. "It's an eel." She chuckled. "One of the fisherman probably caught it and threw it back."
"What a waste!" Rion said disgusted both by the loss of life and by the eel's countenance which was one of the most hideous things she had ever seen.
"A heron'll get it, or a gull. Someone will have it for tea don't you worry!"
Rion noticed several other dead fish on their way up to the bridge at the top of Ladbroke Grove but didn't mention it to Auntie Gem who was rattling on about her childhood in Jamaica.
Arm in arm they walked past Canalside House where Hum, in one of his favourite tricks, ran down the gentle slope to scatter the pigeons being fed outside Sainsburys. The dog carried on to harass the swans and geese who hissed and spat at his impudence.
"He'd better go on the lead, child." Auntie Em advised. "All the young are out once we're over the Matterhorn."
"The Matterhorn?"
Auntie Em gestured to the end of the walkway where a sharply rising humpback bridge spanned the entrance to a lock. "That's what I call it anyway."
They huffed and puffed over the Matterhorn and were soon on the green of the towpath again. Auntie Gem was right. On this section proud pairs of ducks and moorhens swam with their tiny fluffy offspring. Further on two geese shared duties over a creche of at least a dozen goslings.
Auntie Gem and Rion watched as the baby geese, heads down, tugged and pulled at the grass on the towpath. In a sudden burst Hum tugged out of Rion's grasp and raced for the birds.
"Hum!" Rion turned to Auntie Gem in anguish. "The poor birds what'll - "
"It's not the birds I'd be worried about, child."
Upon seeing Hum the two creche-keeping geese reared up in the water. At their honk of alarm their charges scurried for the canal. All except one who continued to tug at the grass. With the lead flying behind him the dog raced for the unfortunate gosling that kept feeding unawares.
Rion clutched Auntie Gem's arm. "Just our luck," She wailed. "the poor thing's deaf!"
"Hum!" They both called as loud as they could but Ollie's dog had no intention of coming back.
The honking of the two guardians had now spread up and downstream. All of the geese along the canal were now united in an abrasive chorus of alarm.
Hum was nearly upon the gosling when the more fiercesome of the two guardians reared up onto the bank. With beating wings and neck stretched like Concorde the avenging goose reached its doomed charge just ahead of the dog. Spitting and jabbing like a cobra the protector sheltered the gosling and herded it back to the canal.
Having the time of his life Hum continued to dance on the riverbank, barking at the geese who hissed their rage from a safe distance.
"He'll learn sometime won't he Auntie Gem?"
The old lady patted her tight curls as if worried some had gone astray. "Or he'll be taught a lesson. If they're lucky the young always are."
Rion ran to the excited hound, caught the lead and dragged him away.
Sporadic honking followed Auntie Gem and Rion as the geese muttered amongst themselves, imagining the day when they would get their revenge.

On an instinct Gorby had come down to the chamber beside the canal.
He had come here nearly every day since the girl's disappearance but today somehow felt different.
Gorby stared through the rustic fencing at the willowy girl and the small black woman on the towpath opposite.
He knew she would come back to him. He was glad he hadn't had to wait too long.

Chapter Fifty-seven - Fish Friday
Work still hadn't finished on Mitre Bridge. It seemed the labourers had been strengthening the bridge and nearby railway wall for months.
Auntie Gem watched as the young girl and Hum made their way through the gauntlet of admiring comments and wolf-whistles. Next time she would make sure Rion didn't accompany her this far. Gem knew Ollie would probably welcome such attention, and Nicky could certainly handle it, but Rion - it wasn't right for a young girl, no matter how well intentioned.
Upon entering the Peters & Peters compound she waved as always to Mr Henry, the company guard - or 'Chief of Security' as he was now called. He normally smiled and waved back but this time he came rushing out from his cabin.
"Miss Gemma." The guard seemed unusually anxious. "The boss, he's in a terrible mood today. He's already fired Miss Doreen."
Auntie Gem was not unduly worried. Doreen always took the brunt of Edwin's anger. She was fired at least once a month from the secretarial pool. It didn't seem to change anything. Doreen simply moved her things behind the large plastic ficus at the end of the office and did her work from there. Edwin normally calmed down within a couple of hours and had forgotten everything by the following day.
"And Miss Kitty." The guard wrung his hands as if drying them above an air vent.
"And Kitty?"
This was different. Kitty was Auntie Gem's assistant and the reason why Gem could come in mid-morning instead of half past eight with the rest of them.
"But she's still here?"
"No!" Henry opened his eyes wide. "He walked her out himself!"
This was even more unusual. Edwin never threw people off the grounds. Quickening her pace ever so slightly Auntie Gem crossed the yard towards the main building.
The change in feeling was apparent when she came out of the lift on the first floor. There was none of the chatty buzz that normally greeted her. Apart from a few muted phonecalls all worked in silence. From here she could just make out Doreen in her place of banishment behind the giant plastic plant.
Eyes pleaded with her as she wheeled the trolley towards Mr Edwin's office. Even before she was halfway there she could hear her boss' muffled angry voice.
Sitting rigidly at her desk outside was Miss Collins, Edwin's personal assistant. The normally irrepressible pa waved Gemma over.
"Is it as bad as I've heard?"
"Worse!" Miss Collins replied her voice just above a whisper. "Have you any arsenic?"
Auntie Gem chuckled. "He'd taste it Liz."
"It's for me silly!"
Auntie Gem gave a hoot, which she quickly suppressed. "What started it off?"
"Some thing arrived in the post. Something he wouldn't even let me see."
"And Kitty?"
The pa waved her hands to minimise the firing. "I've spoken to her already. She'll be back on Monday."
Again the rumbling of Edwin's voice carried through the office walls.
"Who's in there now?"
"Mr Paul but he shouldn't be - "
At that the office door swung open and the young assistant manager strode out, his face like thunder. Miss Collins raised her eyebrows. " - too long." As Auntie Gem wheeled the trolley in Miss Collins stage-whispered after her. "Don't forget to call him Sir!"

Sir Edwin looked up from his desk when he heard the squeaking trolley.
"Ah Gemma, it's you." He returned to the papers on his desk. "I had to let Kitty go."
Knowing her assistant would be back on Monday Auntie Gem pacified her boss. "I'm sure she deserved it." After a pause she added, "Sir Edwin."
Sir Edwin's naturally suspicious features narrowed further at this unexpected acquiescence. After a worrying few seconds he smiled. "That's the first time you've used my title Gemma."
Auntie Gem bobbed her head in a slight bow of deference. "Sir Ed-win." She repeated but this time separated his name in two in the Jamaican tinge he liked. She poured a milky tea, put three digestive biscuits on a plate and placed them in front of him.
"Everybody says you're in a filthy mood." Again she paused before his name. "Sir Edwin."
Looking at the honest face of the lady who had worked first for his father and now for him, Sir Edwin Peters sighed. Holding a large brown envelope he stood up and paced along the huge window that looked over the canal.
"It's just some damn scientist," The chairman of Peters & Peters shook the envelope in his hand. "has made allegations - without any evidence to back them up I might add - about us. They're lies, damn lies, and he's threatening to print them."
Auntie Gem shook her head. "Well if they're lies," She began.
"It doesn't matter if they're lies or not. If he prints them it would harm us." Sir Edwin used the 'us' when he meant 'me'. When there was trouble to be shared he used the collective pronoun, the singular when there was glory. "Some of it would stick, it always does."
"Can't you sue?"
Sir Edwin didn't care if his sigh was deemed demeaning. He spoke slowly as if explaining something very difficult to a very simple person. "That would take ages by which time the damage would have been done. We would only get a retraction anyway - by then it would be too late."
"Bribery?"
Her boss smiled icily but said nothing.
Auntie Gem thought it best to change the subject. She knew the thought of food often improved his temperament. "What will you be having for lunch?"
Sir Edwin felt some of his bad mood coming back. "It's Friday isn't it?" He snapped.
Auntie Gem nodded.
"What do I always have on Fridays?"
"Fish."
"You know how I value tradition. I'm not changing now." Sir Edwin felt a familiar burning pain in his bladder. Flinging the envelope on his desk in dismissal he walked quickly across the office to his adjoining bathroom and closed the door.
Never one to let something private of Edwin's escape her attention, Auntie Gem went over to his desk. She opened the brown envelope to find it contained a bound dossier. As she was about to open it she heard the toilet flush. Sliding the dossier back in the envelope she hurried back to her trolley.
Just in time.
Sir Edwin came back to find Auntie Gem poring over the cups and saucers. Much as he liked her, well as much as he could like any of his staff, she did tend to hang around.
"I thought you'd gone." He said in a tone that implied he wished she had.
Auntie Gem straightened up. Smiling she placed a small white bowl on her boss' desk. "Cheer up." She was almost out the door when Sir Edwin called her back.
"Gemma."
Auntie Gem turned back into the office.
"The fish," Her boss asked nervously. "It's not caught locally is it?"
"I don't think so Sir Edwin, but I'll ask cook." Auntie Gem chuckled as she left the office.
"He's having a bad day alright." She said to Miss Collins.
The p.a. rolled her eyes. "We knew that Gem!"
"He was worried the fish for lunch was caught in the canal!"
Sir Edwin didn't notice the envelope was in a different place on top of his desk. Instead his eyes were drawn to the bowl the tea-lady had left. It contained his very favourite things: fruit pastilles.

Log in next week for your regular Monday morning episode of Meanwhile Gardens...

Chapter Fifty-eight - Diet Coke Anyone?
The weekend had dragged by for Ollie but finally it was Monday morning.
He could hear Wayne whistling the theme from 'Bewitched' as he cleared out number lA, right next door.
Right next door!
It was funny how Wayne seemed to be as fond of the tune as he was. Ollie took this as another sign of how compatible they were.
Or could be.
Ollie was determined to find out which this week. And he was determined to have fun trying.
Ollie noticed that the whistling had stopped. Hearing a series of knocks he imagined Wayne on his doorstep, shirtless, dust stuck to his sweat-clad muscles, gagging for a cuppa or ...whatever.
He gave himself a quick glance in the hall mirror, ruffled his hair - no, too tousled - then ruffled it back, but then it looked as though he had just got out of bed - too suggestive, at least at this stage. Looking round frantically he spied a comb next to his keys and quickly pulled it through his fringe.
Again the door was rapped three times.
Fixing a natural smile on his face, Ollie took a deep breath and opened the door.
Rion and Hum stood before him. The dog jumped up at seeing his master.
"Come for a walk with us." The girl said with a smile.
Ollie glanced up and down the mews but there was no sign of Wayne. "I can't Rion, I'm working."
"But you were working all weekend." The girl complained.
"So I could have this week free to help Wayne."
"He'll be there when we get back and besides," She cupped her hand to her mouth and lowered her voice to a dramatic whisper. "you don't want to appear too keen. Let him come after you."
"Is that what it says in your magazines?"
"C'mon. Pleeeeease." Rion stretched the word out as long as she dared.
"I want to see Jake but I can't control Hum off the lead."
"I can't always control him either."
Seeing the young girl's downcast look Ollie changed his mind. She was right. Wayne would still be there when he got back. Besides he had never followed any advice given in magazines and look where it had got him.
"As long as we're back for lunch."
Rion laughed happily. "Easily!"
Ollie grabbed his keys and closed the door.
As they passed 1A they could hear Wayne clattering about on the first floor.
"One second." Ollie said to Rion before knocking on the door of what was the unlucky house.
When Wayne appeared at the open sitting room window Ollie had been right. The builder looked like he should be in a Diet-Coke ad.
"I'm going out for a while." Ollie threw his keys up to Wayne who snatched them out of the air. "Let yourself in if you want anything."
"Thanks mate." Wayne smiled. Ollie, Rion and Hum were escorted out of the mews by the whistled strains of 'Bewitched'
Wayne waited for at least five minutes before letting himself into Ollie's. Although he knew no-one was there he still crept up the stairs until, feeling foolish, he straightened up and entered the first floor sitting room as if it was his own.
He again looked at the glossy reproduction Candida had obviously ripped from a book. Somewhere in one of the many libraries in Kensington and Chelsea a study on 17th century Dutch painting was missing a page. The image of the pale young girl in the white stole gazed back at him from the shadows. Merlijnche de Poortje didn't look like anything special to Wayne.
He made a cursory glance through all the rooms to make sure the miniature wasn't in plain sight. Having determined it wasn't Wayne set to work, starting on the sitting room cupboards.

Chapter Fifty-nine - Mausoleum Madness
They were almost at the bridge running across the top of Ladbroke Grove when Ollie couldn't contain his curiosity any longer.
"What on earth are you looking for?" He asked Rion who had been gazing intently at the canal ever since they had left Meanwhile Gardens.
The young girl didn't answer for a second. Her attention had been taken by a moorhen and her two young bobbing amongst the rushes below them.
"Are they called moorchicks d'ye think?" She asked.
Ollie looked at the tiny birds beside their mother. "If they're not I think they should be."
The calm of the scene was broken by Hum who charged up barking happily. The moorhen and her chicks paddled out to the middle of the canal and safety.
"There's one!" Rion exclaimed pointing at what, to Ollie, looked like just another bit of floating rubbish.
"Haven't you seen an empty can of coke before?"
"Not that! I mean next to it."
Ollie looked again but all he could see was an unfortunate perch turned belly up.
"It's a dead fish isn't it?" Rion asked.
"Yes, " He said slowly. "You sometimes get them along here.
Rion's face dropped slightly. "So it's not unusual?"
To be loved by anyone? Ever since Ollie had seen Tom Jones squeezed into leather at some awards ceremony the Welsh singer popped into his thoughts at the slightest provocation.
Ollie smiled. "Fish aren't immortal you know."
"It's just that when I walked Auntie Gem to work yesterday I saw a couple more and a dead eel."
"It happens Rion."
Quickly putting Hum on the lead they crossed the bridge, entering the cemetery through the side door next to the Dissenter's Chapel.
Hum practically choked himself as he strained against the leash. "Aren't you going to let him off?"
Ollie pointed to a sign stating that dogs must be kept on the lead AT ALL TIMES. "I got told off by some creepy guard on my last visit."
"What's the worst he can do?" Rion giggled. "Ask you to leave?"
In some perverse way the thought kind of appealed to Ollie. "I've never been thrown out of a cemetery before," He mused, imagining himself being bounced out of the graveyard ('And don't come back') by two burly minders, "but it's best we don't attract too much attention."
Following the path below South Avenue they skirted Thackeray's gleaming white grave and were soon within sight of Jake's tree.
As they came closer Rion signalled her arrival with the four-note whistle. The chirpy reply was almost instantaneous. Arriving beneath the overgrown leafy tree they looked up to find their host half-hidden in the branches above them.
"Will Hum be quiet if you leave him down there?"
Ollie and Rion looked at each other and shook their heads. "No." They said in unison.
"Especially not if he's tied up." Ollie added. The thought of the headstrong dog roaming the cemetery off the lead and by himself was surely an ejectable offence.
"Wait a sec then." They watched as Jake vanished further into the tree. Not for the first time Ollie cursed Hum. Fired by what Rion had told him he was dying to have tea in the treehouse.
Jake was beside them in a jiffy. In one hand he held a battered tobacco tin. "Shall we?" He gestured for them to follow him the short distance to where a bench overlooked a simple tomb.
Ollie read the inscription on the plain grave that was almost exaggerated in its austerity. "'George Cruickshank - For 30 years a total abstainer and ardent pioneer and champion by pencil, word and pen of universal abstinence from intoxicating drinks.'"
"Do you think he would have approved of this?" Jake opened the tin, which Ollie could see was filled with marijuana. "I've called this one 'Mausoleum Madness'. It's grown at the back of a circus owner's tomb and always has a bit of zip to it." He smiled wickedly at Ollie. "You haven't got major plans for the day do you?"
I don't now, Ollie thought, looking at the tin of grass. "Just helping someone do some cleaning."
"You said you had to finish some work!" Rion exclaimed indignantly.
"Plans change." Ollie gave a helpless smile and shrugged his shoulders.
Jake took out a packet of small blue Rizla from the tin, removed a single rolling paper and began filling it with the pungent weed. "Well, this won't knock you out for the whole day."
Ollie dismissed his concern with a wave of the hand. "I really get into cleaning when I'm stoned."
Rion sighed her disgust. "What is going on at that house anyway? I mean, why is Wayne cleaning it out?"
Obviously Auntie Em hadn't told the young girl what was happening. And if Auntie Em hadn't told Ollie realised it wasn't his place to tell either.
"I think Auntie Em has some plans for it. I'm not sure what." He lied.
"I'm going to have to find somewhere soon aren't I?"
"Think about that later. Wait until you get better first."
Jake rolled the joint between the fingers of one hand, lightly sealed it and twisted one end. "Is she better?" He asked as he passed the joint for Ollie to light.
"Yes." Rion said firmly.
Ollie wasn't convinced. "But you don't want it to come back do you?"
Rion shook her head.
"And Gem 'n Em aren't throwing you out are they?"
"No but I can't stay there forever."
"At the moment Heron Point is out of the question I'm afraid." Jake passed a box of matches to Ollie. "One guard in particular is always down there."
Rion's sigh expressed her dismay.
"You can always stay with me if you do need somewhere." Ollie reassured her. "Or with Nicky, she wouldn't mind."
"Thanks." She squeezed his arm in appreciation. "Did you ever ask her about - " Rion looked away as if somehow embarrassed. " - you know?"
Ollie racked his brain but nothing came back to him.
"Remember that first night when we sat around the fire and - " Rion prompted him again. " - you know!"
"I remember smoking alot of homegrown." Ollie said but realised that probably wasn't very helpful.
"Which affects your memory doesn't it?" Rion said unhappily.
Jake turned to Ollie. "Were we smoking 'Headstone'?"
"Sounds might familiar." He replied with a smile.
"Yeah, it's not great for the recall."
Rion cleared her throat in an effort to get back into the conversation. "Anyway, you said Nicky sometimes works for Ultra and she might know someone..."
Ollie remembered now to his shame. "I haven't asked her but I will. Remind me though ok?"
Jake had waited long enough. He nodded towards the joint that Ollie still held, unlit. "Are you going to light that or what?"

Chapter Sixty - Ultra Mellow
After a pleasant morning spent with Jake, Ollie and Rion made their way back along Centre Avenue. Ollie lagged behind Rion and Hum, unable and unwilling to wipe the smile from his face. Although they had only smoked two small grass joints Ollie felt as if they had finished the whole tin. All the better to do the cleaning with, he reasoned, besides the grass should also take the edge off his over-enthusiasm for Wayne and make him approach the situation with a touch more 'mellowness'.
Fat chance of that.
He followed Rion and Hum out of the main gate, stepping aside at the last moment for a taxi entering the cemetery.
Ollie exchanged a look with the elegant lady in the back of the black cab. He was sure he had seen her before, but where?
With his brain buzzing on the marijuana Ollie knew it would be useless to ask it anything as basic as memory retrieval.

In the back of the cab the editor of Ultra flicked a speck of dirt off her turquoise pumps. She felt her whole body tingle at the prospect of the next hour spent with Jake in the house in the trees that moaned and groaned in time as they made love.

Chapter Sixty-one - Everything or Nothing
Nicky sometimes felt feng-shui'd out of existence. She had moved the mirror, put flowers in front of the TV, hung crystals in the window and moved the bed to face the northeast but still she felt restless. Yes, vitality was flowing into the financial side of her house, and yes, her career had a certain amount of vigour at the moment but the upshot of all this energy was that it made her irritable.
In this frame of mind she pushed past the plants that crowded the room and went down to answer the door upon which someone was knocking with uncommon enthusiasm.
Her mood vanished immediately upon seeing who was on the doorstep. Ollie, a broad smile on his face, a bouquet of lilies in his arms, beamed at her.
"These are for you." Her neighbour handed her the flowers with an exaggerated flourish.
"For what?" Nicky asked, her irritation vanishing by the second. Flower power worked for her every time.
"For all the lovely Tuesday mornings in the world." Ollie kissed her on both cheeks. "May I come in?" Without waiting for a reply he slid past her and took the stairs, two by two, up to the sitting room.
Lacking his sparkle Nicky followed at a more sedate pace.
She came into the sitting room to find him already on the sofa. He had his hands behind his head, his feet up and that broad grin on his face that normally only meant one thing.
"I take it Wayne succumbed?"
Ollie beamed. "No."
"No? Then why the cheesy grin?"
Ollie swung his feet onto the floor and sat up. "He likes art, Nicks."
Nicky got the large vase down from the top shelf and began filling it with the mainly closed stems of lilies.
"When I came back yesterday I found the glossy book on the Dutch Masters - "
"The one James gave you?"
Ollie nodded. " - open on the table. He couldn't work the kettle - "
"Ah. Bless." Nicky said with more than a touch of sarcasm.
Ollie ignored her and carried on. " - and so had to boil up a saucepan for his cuppa. While waiting for the water to boil he saw my books and - "
Again Nicky interrupted sarcastically. "Just couldn't stop himself?"
"Yes!" Ollie said triumphantly. "You should have seen his face when I asked him about it. Oh Nicks, he looked so sheepish. This tough builder with calloused hands - "
"How do you know what his hands are like?" She asked.
Ollie ignored the question. "This tough builder with calloused hands likes art. A real man Nicks, not some airy-fairy wittering on about space and lines and what it means to him claptrap. He's a - "
Nicky put up a hand to stop him. "Don't say it Ol, not a rough diamond." Ollie looked hurt for a second before breaking into a smile. "A diamond in the raw."
"A diamond geezer?"
"Do you know what this means?" Ollie could hardly contain his excitement. "Sunday mornings at the Tate, lazy afternoons holding hands in the Hayward. We've already made plans to see the Masters of Light exhibition - "
"The Dutch stuff?"
Ollie nodded. " - at the National on Friday."
"Let's backtrack a bit here O1. You didn't sleep with him?"
"No!" Ollie sounded indignant. "Wayne went back east last night anyway, but he phoned to tell me he was getting in the shower. What's that mean?"
Nicky put the artfully arranged lilies on the table. "That he's had a hard day?" She asked tentatively.
"He said that so I would think about him in the shower don't you think?"
Nicky wasn't sure. "Perhaps." She said, not wanting to burst his bubble.
"And then he winks at me every now and then. What's that all about?"
"It could mean everything or nothing."
"And - "
Just as Nicky thought she couldn't bear any more on wonderbuilder Ollie put his head to one side. Flashing a grin at Nicky he ran to the window.
"He's here!"
He gave Nicky a big kiss on the cheek and ran out of the room.
"Phone me later." She called after him, but Ollie was already down the stairs and out the door.

Chapter Sixty-two - A Plan is Born
In her newly aligned existence there was one household item that still bothered Nicky - the phone. Where could she put the damn thing where it would reflect and empower her?
Flicking through the feng-shui directory of household appliances she found there were three listings for the telephone. Before Nicky could decide whether the phone on the answering machine was cordless, handheld or other, - when it was patently all three - it rang.
"Sweetness I'm not disturbing you am I?"
Nicky smiled. She knew only one person who asked her that. Everyone else, it seemed, assumed you were dying to talk to them.
"Of course not Auntie Em. I was just - " Nicky stopped herself. It sounded too ridiculous to even mention. What would she say? 'Oh, I was just trying to figure out the optimum position for the phone? And I was using a directory to do it? " - it's not important. What's Rion up to?"
"I sent her off to Ledbury Road."
Over the past couple of years this once shabby Notting Hill street had seen an influx of smart shops move in, including the one that Rion seemed very fond of.
"She's probably got her nose pressed up against the window of GHOST as we speak."
"Hopefully she's inside asking if they want anyone. We need to find her something to do." Auntie Em paused rather pointedly before continuing. "You don't know of any jobs going do you angel?"
"Well," Nicky had been promising herself an assistant for ages. "I've got a couple of things that she can help me with this week."
"I knew you'd be the right person to ask! Rion's still abit shy and you can't be backwards...."
"In coming forwards can you Auntie Em? If you want something done.."
"You've got to do it yourself." Auntie Em ran her fingers through her hair and smiled. She and Nicky had had this conversation many times before. "I hear you're doing some work for Ultra at the moment."
Nothing got past Auntie Em Nicky thought. "Yes, do you know Ollie's friend Johnson?"
"The decorator?"
Nicky gave a short laugh. "That's not what he calls himself but yes - they want me to do some pictures of him."
"Ultra don't need anyone do they angel?"
"I don't know, I'll ask if you want."
"It's just Rion has this thing about working for them and - "
"No problem Auntie Em. I have to phone Angie anyway. It's a pretty nasty office though."
"In what way treasure?"
Nicky thought for a second. How could she put this? "Class-driven backstabbing ambition?"
"They're all that like that aren't they?"
"Hmmm. Some are worse than others though."
"She'll have to learn about that sometime - this is England after all - perhaps it's best she does it whilst she has our support."
"I'll ask Auntie Em, but no promises."
"Of course not sweetness. And Ollie didn't mention this?"
Nicky shrugged her shoulders. "Not that I remember."
"Rion says he promised he would."
"Ollie's had other things on his mind though, hasn't he?"
Auntie Em knew she meant Wayne. Precious little else had entered Ollie's mind recently.
"Yes." Emma said in a voice that couldn't hide her disapproval. "That he has." She allowed herself a quick frown before continuing. "What do you think of that 'thing' our boy has on his mind?"
"Lust?" Nicky hung onto the word as if by doing so some of its qualities might rub off on her. "It has its place doesn't it? Ollie could do with a good going over I reckon."
"No sweetness, I meant what do you think of Wayne?"
"Oh." Nicky thought for a second. "He is quite stunning in that East End bit of rough sort of way, but he doesn't float my boat - "
"Sorry angel?"
"He doesn't bake my cake - "
These expressions were new to Auntie Em. "Sweetness?" She asked again.
"He doesn't ring my bell?" Nicky thought she must have heard of that one. "Any guy who has a chest bigger than mine doesn't do it for me - but he's like a walking wet dream to Ollie."
"Do you trust him though?"
"To do some simple building work? Probably. He doesn't seem too much of a cowboy. His work's ok isn't it?"
"Yes, but - "
"But with secrets, something important?" Nicky shook her head. "probably not."
"I don't trust him Nicky. I just don't trust him. He was in Ollie's for ages on Monday."
"Apparently he couldn't work the kettle so had to boil up some water."
"Kettles aren't that difficult to operate are they angel?"
"Well Ollie's kettle is abit odd Auntie Em, you know there's that button underneath - "
Auntie Em gave a snort of disbelief.
"I have to admit I thought the same thing." Nicky agreed. "And then Ollie said Wayne got sidetracked by his art books. Apparently Wayne's abit of a gallery gazer."
"So he felt it was ok to rifle through Ollie's belongings?"
"I don't know if it was quite like that."
It was all starting to make sense to Auntie Em. "Last night when Kanwar dropped me off - "
Nicky couldn't let that pass unnoticed. "Kanwar?" She repeated.
"Doctor Gidwani."
"How long have you been seeing him?"
"That's not the issue here sweetness, suffice to say that a rather touching friendship started up when he was treating Rion, but I'm sure we saw that man - "
"Wayne?"
Auntie Em nodded. "Up at the Gate. It was about midnight. He was talking to someone in a brown Mercedes jeep."
Nicky was incredulous. "Candida?"
"I couldn't see to be sure but yes, it was a woman."
Nicky was about to wisecrack 'Then it couldn't be Candida' when she thought better of it. This was all too strange. "But why? Do you think -"
"Sweetheart I'm not sure what to think, but - what was Candida trying to get from Ollie?"
"The miniature?"
"Yes angel, and when she found he wasn't going to hand it over -?"
"Ollie's dreamboy shows up? Auntie Em you don't really - "
"I'm not saying anything sweetness. Just think about it."
Nicky didn't have to think for long.
She knew Candida was capable of such guile, she knew she was after Merlijnche de Poortje, and what had Ollie said? 'What Candida wants Candida gets'?
"What are we going to do?"
"I have a plan angel, but I'll need your help."

By the time Auntie Em had finished telling Nicky of the ruse the photographer was won over. More importantly she believed Wayne would go for it. Her only concern was for her friend.
"But what are you going to tell Ollie?"
Auntie Em sighed. "It's a difficult one but for the moment nothing. He's in no danger. Let him have his fun."
Nicky wasn't entirely happy but she knew it was the best way.
"Besides he's practically incapable of lying isn't he?"
Nicky nodded. Auntie Em was always right.

Chapter Sixty-three - Splish Splash
Cafe Feliz was normally quiet at this time of the day. The workers had long ago grabbed their espressos and headed for the office, the mid-morning slackers were still nursing hangovers in bed leaving the little cafe with a token presence of mothers with prams.
Clutching their milky coffees in tall glasses and a custard pastry each Nicky and Ollie sat at one of the wrought-iron tables outside. The only other people were an elderly couple seated one empty table away but one.
Ollie inhaled deeply, smiled and looked around. "Everything seems so much newer today, no? The sky just looks so damn clean, the pavements are almost sparkling - even the trees are standing that little bit prouder."
"Well, the rain last night freshened things up."
"No it's not that - it's - " Ollie looked around him again before shrugging his shoulders and grinning at his friend.
"Stop being such a romantic Ol." Nicky glared at him. "And I wish you'd wipe that smile off your face, you'll force me to put my shades on and then I'll look like part of the fashion pack."
Unable to stop beaming Ollie said. "But you are part of the fashion pack Nicks."
"That does it." Nicky rummaged around in her bag. After a few seconds she pulled out a pair of very dark owlshaped glasses in tortoiseshell frames. Giving them a quick wipe she plumped them on her nose. "Aaaaah". Nicky sighed in relief. "I sometimes wish I could have these surgically attached."
"When did you get back last night?"
"Late enough for there to be no lights on in your house." Nicky took a sip from her coffee. "I noticed Wayne's pick-up was still parked outside though. Funny, I would have thought 1A was still too fumey to sleep in - some of those paints should carry a health warning."
"They do Nicks which is why," Ollie took a deep breath and puffed out his chest, feeling immensely proud all of a sudden. "He's been staying at mine for the past couple of nights."
"But," The photographer said in mock innocence. "there's no bed in your spare room is there?"
Ollie rolled his eyes. "Enough already!"
"So dish, sweetheart."
"Well," Ollie thought back to the past two wonderful nights. "It started on Tuesday. He asked me if he could have a bath at mine so - "
"Good Samaritan that you are you said yes?"
Ollie shrugged his shoulders. "I could hardly say no could I? Anyway I saw him putting candles round the bath which I thought was sort of sweet."
"He put candles round the bath?"
Ollie nodded. "I'm telling you Nicks, he's not the philistine you think he is."
"Carry on."
"So I busied myself in the kitchen."
"Right." Nicky said in a disbelieving voice.
"Just as I was about to go downstairs and check on something in the studio - "
"Yes?" She egged him on.
"He asked me if I would scrub his back."
Nicky almost choked on her coffee. "Scrub his back?! That's a good one." She exclaimed loudly.
The elderly couple two tables away had remained motionless, cups to their lips, since Ollie had started the story.
"So I did and - well, you know how it is."
Nicky wasn't going to let any details go. "Tell me."
Ollie sighed. "Well, I got wet, had to take my shirt off - "
"And?"
Ollie wasn't dishing. "Use your imagination Nicks."
The elderly couple put their cups down in disappointment.
"You know what the nicest thing was though?"
"Are you going to tell me or will I have to use my imagination?"
"After we had splashed around he wrapped me in that big towel and rubbed me dry. It was so - " Ollie searched for the right word. " - so - "
The elderly couple again had their cups to their lips, poised for any salacious titbit they might later tell their friends.
" - so fraternal."
Nicky snorted. "With brothers like that who needs incest right?"
"And then - "
"There's more?"
"We were feeling hungry."
"I bet."
"So I phoned up Rotisserie Jules for some chicken and dauphinois."
"Mmmmm."
"And he went to collect it!"
"Don't they deliver though?"
"Yup but he really wanted to."
Nicky remembered what Auntie Em had told her about seeing Wayne talking to Candida.. "And this was on Tuesday night?"
"Yes."
"About midnight?"
"More or less."
Ollie saw Nicky's face drop.
"Are you ok Nicks?"
The photographer smiled weakly. "Sure."

Log in next week for your regular Monday morning episode of Meanwhile Gardens...

Chapter Sixty-four - Wayne's Little Helper
A honking of horns alerted them to Wayne's arrival. The blue pick-up swerved over from the other side of the road and double-parked outside the Portuguese cafe.
Wayne, looking striking in worn jeans and ripped t-shirt, jumped out smiling. "I got the paint. Nu-Line had run out but I got it in Paddington." He nodded to Nicky. "Hi Nicks."
Nicks? The photographer thought to herself - who the hell said he could call her Nicks?
"So are you going to help me again today?" Wayne winked at Ollie.
"Ah, how sweet," Nicky gave Ollie a cheesy grin. "Wayne's little helper." As Ollie blushed Nicky asked him. "You haven't seen Candida have you?" Although Nicky directed the question at Ollie she made sure to look at Wayne to see if there was any reaction to the name.
There wasn't.
"You don't know any Candidas do you Wayne?" Nicky asked, ignoring Ollie's confused look. Although her manner was joking she was watching Wayne like a hawk.
"Don't get too many of those where I come from Nicks." The photographer again flinched at this unauthorised shortening of her name.
"I haven't met a Tara before either," Wayne continued. "or even a Sophie come to that, my sister called her daughter Caroline though - "
As Wayne winked at Nicky she felt a frisson that must be 100 times stronger in Ollie's body.
" - but I think she was on a bus going down Sloane Street at the time!"
Either he was very good, Nicky decided, or totally ignorant. For selfish reasons she wanted to think he was totally ignorant - afterall someone couldn't look like that and be clever could they? Someone couldn't look like that and fool all of them could they?
She had the horrible feeling that they could.
Ollie still looked confused at the way the conversation had gone.
"Are you coming mate?"
Crossing the bridge behind Wayne Ollie could see Aunties Gem 'n Em with Rion.
"I'll be there in a sec." He replied.
With that Wayne hopped into the pick-up and screeched over the bridge. What was Nicky asking him about Candida for? He wondered if it was coincidence or did she know something?
What had started off as a cushy little job was becoming more complicated by the day. In spite of the pay he'd be glad when it was over.
Before Ollie could find out what Nicky had meant by asking Wayne about Candida, Hum had spotted the approaching trio.
The dog knew it was time for his walk along the canal.
Auntie Em had hardly stopped at the cafe before she moved on. "Can't dally." She kissed Ollie on the cheek and gave a conspiratorial smile to Nicky. "I have to go to the framers."
It was time to put the second part of the plan into practice.

Chapter Sixty-five - Puffy Growths
Deciding he could do with the walk Ollie accompanied Auntie Gem, Rion and Hum down the canal.
"I read somewhere that a brisk walk is just as good as a jog for burning the calories."
Auntie Gem cackled. "You'd better go ahead then." She put her arm through Rion's. "We amble don't we child?"
"Yes we do!" Rion said happily. "Normally anyway. But today - "
Much to Hum's enjoyment Rion began skipping up and down the towpath. The dog, excited by any sort of activity, jumped at her heels.
" - calls for something more!"
"What are you so happy about?" Ollie asked but Rion just kept skipping up and down, only now she was whistling some tune of unsurpassed chirpiness.
Auntie Gem linked her arm through Ollie's. "Hasn't she told you?"
"Told me what?"
As Rion skipped by Ollie tried to grab her, but the girl jumped laughing out of reach.
"I've got a job!" She called back. "Well," She corrected herself. "It's a sort of job."
Ollie realised that he hadn't spoken to Nicky as he had promised. He smacked his hand against his forehead. "Rion I'm sorry. I still haven't asked - "
"But I have!" Slightly out of breath Rion slowed to a walk beside them. "Nicky wants me to be her assistant tomorrow. She said a friend of yours - Johnson Someone-or-other - "
"Ogle."
"'scuse me?"
"His name is Johnson Ogle."
"Whatever. Anyway this Johnson is coming to the studio to have his picture taken for - " Rion stopped, opened both arms wide and gave a fanfare. "Ta-da-da!" She looked questioningly at Ollie and Auntie Gem.
The old black lady cupped her hand and whispered to Ollie. "I know the answer to this."
"For?" Rion asked again.
Ollie shrugged his shoulders. Neither Johnson nor Nicky had told him anything.
"Ultra!" Rion said triumphantly. "And Nicky said she would ask if there was an opening there, and if that didn't work," Rion spun round in excitement. " - she said your friend Johnson is like this - " The girl crossed her middle finger over her index. " - with the editor and would put in a good word for me."
Ollie felt slightly left out. Afterall Johnson was his friend and if anyone was going to put in a good word for Rion it should be him.
"Why didn't anyone tell me?"
Rion sighed in great exaggeration as if the answer was painfully obvious.
Auntie Gem squeezed Ollie's arm playfully. "The way I've heard it if the subject isn't a certain builder," She nudged Ollie in the ribs. "you're not interested."
"Now wait a minute." Ollie began. "That's unfair."
"Is it?" Auntie Gem asked smiling.
"Yes." Ollie said crossly. He then remembered Auntie Em's comment at Cafe Feliz and Nicky's pointed remark earlier. "Well," He conceded. "perhaps I have been preoccupied with the work at 1A."
"Is it just the work that's been occupying your time?" Rion asked.
Auntie Gem couldn't suppress her mirth. "Or the worker!"
Rion and Auntie Gem looked at each other and burst out laughing.
Ollie put up his hand to stop them. "Ok. Ok." He felt ganged up on all of a sudden. "So I don't see people for a couple of days and all of a sudden no-one tells me anything?"
Auntie Gem put her arm through Ollie's. "We just miss you that's all."
They carried on walking in silence. Ollie, his feathers ruffled, occupied himself with counting the number of dead fish. It was only when they had passed Sainsbury's that he realised he had counted thirty within as many feet.
Moving closer to the water for a better look he shrunk back by what he saw.
"Jeez." He gasped in horror.
Lining the canal bank below him, out of sight from the towpath, was an unbroken band of dead fish. They were mainly on the small side but Ollie could see there were some larger ones and eels amongst them.
"There are more and more every day." Auntie Gem shook her head sadly.
"You said it's not unusual." Rion's voice had taken on an accusing tone.
Ollie again allowed Tom Jones a momentary streak through his mind before returning his attention to the horrible sight in front of him.
"Well," He hesitated. "The odd one or two isn't uncommon, but I've never seen anything like this."
"What could cause it?" Rion asked.
"It sometimes happens after a long hot spell," Ollie shrugged his shoulders feebly. "something about oxygen levels in the water."
"But it hasn't been that hot."
Rion was right. After a few false starts it finally seemed as though summer might have started. Whilst pleasant it was hardly fish suffocating weather.
Ollie gestured to a lone fisherman further up the path. "Let's ask him."
"What's he doing fishing when you can pick them out with your hand?" Rion asked.
"Something to do with sport?" Ollie said dryly.
The man sat on a fold-out chair surrounded by the paraphernalia of his hobby. In the grass by his side were a large net, a rest for his long pole, various tupperwares full of wriggling maggots, open tins of feathered flies and a small hamper containing what they could see was a packed lunch.
A metal bucket nearby was almost full of freshly caught fish.
As usual Hum broke the ice. Despite calls to the contrary the dog made straight for the writhing maggots and gave them a good sniff.
"Sorry." Ollie pulled Hum back by his collar.
"He's alright." The angler replied. "I've not had the need for them today. The fish are practically leaping onto the hook."
Ollie guessed the man was in his late forties. He had a pinkish complexion and the round body of someone who spent days sitting on riverbanks.
"It's almost like a mass suicide attempt. They can't wait to get out of the water," The man made a rather unpleasant gurgling sound which, after a few seconds, Ollie realised was a form of laughter. "But then that's not surprising is it now?"
Rion peered into the metal bucket containing the angler's catch. "Ugh!" She wrinkled her nose in disgust. "Why do they have those - " Rion pointed to the puffy growths some of the fish had on their bodies. " - things?"
"Why isn't it surprising?" Auntie Gem asked the fisherman.
"Well, would you like to stay in there?" The man pointed to the canal.
Ollie looked at the dirty water. "It would be preferable to your bucket I would imagine."
"But what's caused them all to die?"
The fisherman turned to Auntie Gem. "You know the work they're doing on the bridge further on?"
Auntie Gem nodded.
"As I heard it the workmen didn't tie up a bag of chemicals securely enough, some kids found it, chucked it in the water and - hey presto! - dead fish by the dozen. Those that haven't the sense too kill themselves haven't the wits not to!"
Ollie, Rion and Auntie Gem left the man gurgling at his luck and continued on their way.
The thin line of dead fish edging the canal had turned into a thicker stripe by the time they had got to Mitre Bridge.
To their disappointment there were no workmen to be seen.
"They've probably been sent home." Ollie said.
"If they're here when I finish I'll give them a piece of my mind." Auntie Gem said but all knew the possibility of British workmen still being on the job at four o'clock was so small as to be infinitesimal.
"Perhaps there'll be back tomorrow."
Auntie Gem's face brightened at the thought.
Ollie and Rion watched from the canal as Auntie Gem crossed Mitre Bridge above them and headed the short way to the entrance of Peters & Peters.

Chapter Sixty-six - Alas Poor Hum
Rion and Ollie made their way back along the towpath. Ollie gave a half-hearted wave and Rion shuddered as they passed the gurgling angler.
"I still don't understand what he's doing." The young girl shook her head, perplexed. "I mean, if catching fish is his thing, why doesn't he simply scoop armfuls out of the water?"
"Ours not to reason why - you know?"
Rion didn't but she grunted as if to indicate that she did.
It was when they got to Sainsburys that something happened that would change Hum's life forever. Admittedly, the situation had been building for weeks.
As usual the hound charged excitedly along the canal walk barking at the swans and geese that hovered in the water waiting to be fed. He ran like mad into the pigeons and that is where he, literally, came unstuck.
Pelting up the gentle slope Hum slipped on the morass of bird droppings. Ollie and Rion watched amazed, and then horrified, as Hum careened out from the cloud of pigeons. The dog's momentum propelled him up the slope where, unable to stop, he slammed into the railings and fell into the water several feet below.
The birds couldn't believe their luck.
They were on him in a flash. The swans were the first. They raced over, their powerful wings beating the water, their necks outstretched, their eyes narrowed in fury.
The geese weren't far behind. Remembering the abuse they had suffered ever since Hum had showed up they fell on him eager to exact revenge.
Even the moorhens got in on the action. Diving beneath the water they pecked at the hound from underneath.
Hum had soon disappeared beneath a flurry of wings and jabbing beaks.
He never really stood a chance.

Chapter Sixty-seven - A Hero
"Do something!" Rion implored Ollie. The young girl was practically in tears.
Hum had vanished from view. Bits of his body surfaced occasionally before disappearing once more beneath the angry birds.
Ollie ripped off his shirt and began waving it ferociously at the swans.
"I don't think a shirt's going to do much mate." A voice sniffed behind him. Ollie turned to find an old man at his shoulder. He recognised him as being the one that regularly fed the pigeons when Hum charged into them.
"You want to be careful." The old man continued with more than a hint of a smile. "Swans can break a man's arm with their wings you know." He peered over the edge at the frantic splashing. "lmagine what they could do with a dog and a young 'un at that. It's best to let him go."
"Let him go where?" Rion wailed.
A crowd had quickly gathered.
"Is it a boy?" One woman asked anxiously. She held a baby to her and looked around as if having lost another.
Having heard that, some in the crowd thought it was a child in the water.
"She should never have let it out of her sight." One voice advised.
"You can't trust children."
"She's unfit to be a mother," said another, happy to censure but not to help.
"It's a dog!" Rion was ready to cry at any moment.
Ollie continued beating at the birds with his shirt but his onslaught wasn't making much of an impression.
Looking round frantically he spied a freshly bought baguette sticking out of a shopping bag. To the woman's surprise Ollie grabbed the stick of French bread, leant down and began battering the swans with it.
"'Ere, you can't do that!" The old bird-feeder muttered, annoyed at thinking Hum might get away with it afterall. "They're a protected species."
Ollie continued beating at the ferocious birds with the baguette while flailing his shirt in his other hand. His aggression had the desired effect. Giving a last vicious peck the leader of the geese backed off, his minions at his tail.
Before the swans could put in their parting shot Ollie struck the larger of the two on the head with the baguette. Seeing they had lost the support of their friends the swans hissed violently but decided to move on.
The cowardly moorhens were nowhere to be seen.
"Is he still alive?" Rion asked tearfully as the hound's bedraggled body rolled to the surface.
"Hold my legs." Ollie instructed Rion.
He leant over the edge, stretched for Hum but couldn't quite reach him. As he wriggled further he felt another pair of hands on his ankles to stop him falling in.
With the added support he was now able to touch Hum. He pulled him closer, got a grip with his hands and twisted back to put the dog on dry land once more.
It was then he saw the extra pair of hands belonged to Andy. His body was already od-ing on adrenaline, he hoped it could handle more.
"He's not moving!"
Rion was right. There was no movement from the dog at all. She had to bite her fist to stop herself from screaming at the sight of Hum's body. The poor dog was calloused and bruised from the attack. Numerous cuts bled into the water dripping from him so that soon Hum lay in a watery red pool.
But the thing that really got Rion was how skeletal Hum looked. With his fur flattened by the water the hound seemed a fraction of his normal size. It didn't seem like he could fight off an under-the-weather Collie let alone a gang of marauding geese.
"I have my car." Andy gestured to the car park at the front of the enormous supermarket.
"He's not breathing Ollie!"
The only thing Ollie could think to do was put his head to the dog's chest and listen for a heartbeat. He began to massage Hum's bony chest but it was apparent there was just one thing that could save him now.
Mouth-to-mouth.
Digging deep for the memory of the Red Cross course he did long ago Ollie clamped his fingers over the hound's nostrils, tried not to think of where Hum's mouth had been recently, opened the small jaw and blew in. And again. And again.
Nothing.
It was only after the seventh time that Rion shrieked. "He blinked!" Ollie gave one more breath and pulled back. Just in time. Hum spluttered, coughed then retched up pools of murky canal water over Ollie's trainers.
The crowd cheered.
Hum weakly wagged his tail, tried to stand but couldn't.
Ollie wrapped the dog in his shirt and held him in his arms. He looked at Andy. "Could you take me to the vet?" Ollie stammered, feeling slightly self-conscious of his shirtless self and of Andy being so close by. "It's not far and - "
"Just tell me where."
Rion followed as they hurried through the crowd to Andy's car and away.

Chapter Sixty-eight - Upchuck
In some ways it had been the perfect affair, Angie thought. They had known nothing of each other at the beginning and now, six months later, apart from first names and numbers of mobile phones, they knew little more.
Of course they had discovered all the fleshy, deliciously sensitive nooks and crannies of each other's bodies, and had exchanged secrets normally kept hidden from the world, but apart from that, they knew next to nothing of each other's lives.
Perfect!
It really had been perfect.
However the time had come to end it. The affair had lost some of its flavour, some of its sparkle. The treehouse in the hot summer sun was not as alluring as in the cool spring evenings and whilst the notches up had done wonders for her agility, not to mention her calf muscles, Angie knew it was time to quit.
Things had also started to get a bit too close to the real world recently. Favours had been asked which was always a sign that everyday life couldn't be far behind.
And whenever everyday life intruded on an affair the magic died.
But the last and most compelling reason for ending it was career instinct: what if the Press were to find out? What if they were to dig deeper, printing her true age and details of her Edgeware childhood? All the lies she'd told, the facts she'd hidden to get where she was would be common news. Angie shuddered, realising unhappily that 'common' was the word they would pick up on.
The thought was too horrible to contemplate.
The tabloids would have a field day with this. She could imagine the headlines - 'Magazine Editor in Torrid Tombside Trysts'? or 'Toy-Boy Sex Secrets of Ghoulish Aristo'? or, her stomach quaked, 'Suburban Council Estate Past of Current Lady Peters'?
What would her boss do then? Luca Mortimer wasn't known for his soft side. A speedy return to contributing editor status would be on the cards but it would be on one of his lesser titles.
This time she'd be lucky if she made FOLK - the magazine of country dancing, 'Seamstress Monthly' or that editorial graveyard 'Home Recipes and More!' Angie never knew what the 'More!' was - or why it needed such a prominent exclamation mark - but she had a feeling, if the story ever leaked, she would be sure to find out.
Jake had started to feel ill before Angie's message came through. He always kept the mobile switched off when he was at home. Something as insistent as a ringing telephone would distract even the most devout mourners from their duties.
As he pressed the speed-dial for Angie's number he felt his stomach seize up.
"It's me." Jake managed to croak, the bile burning his throat.
In her swish office overlooking Berkeley Square the editor of London's best-selling woman's magazine checked the lcd on her mobile. It was Jake's number all right but it certainly didn't sound like him.
"Jake?"
"You phoned?" He managed to splutter.
"Yes - are you alright?" Angie had her conciliatory tone and carefully prepared words all planned but this croaky voice threw her slightly.
"Just a touch of - " Jake covered the mouthpiece to mask the sound of his dry retch. "flu."
It didn't seem fair to break off the relationship if he was ill but fairness, Angie realised, was a luxury at her level.
"Whilst it's been fun - " With her voice as soothing as a funeral director's Lady Peters went into her speech.
Unfortunately as soon as she began Jake, gripped by another stomach spasm, covered the mouthpiece and held the phone away from him.
He managed to put it back to hear, "I really think it's best that we - " but his gut contracted robbing him of his breath.
Jake didn't have to listen to the words though, he could tell from her voice what Angie was saying.
At the other end of the phone all the editor could hear were what sounded like muffled chokings. Lady Peters was surprised. She didn't think he would take it this badly.
With his eyes streaming Jake put the phone back to his ear. "So we're breaking up?"
Angie had prepared for this moment. With her voice at honey pitch she breathed into the phone. "Yes but don't - "
She wasn't allowed to finish before Jake, feeling the approach of another spasm, choked out "Fine", and clicked off.
Angie was surprised, and not a little disappointed, to have the conversation end halfway through her farewell. It wasn't like Jake to suffer from pique.
The break-up hadn't been as fun as she had expected. There was no sense of victory, no hint of the pleasure she had been looking forward to, the pleasure of knowing you are going to hurt somebody but also of knowing there's not a damn thing you can do about it.
Putting down the phone Jake rushed to the plastic bucket that served as his bin and threw up. In the milky clear upchuck were pieces of his lunch: fish caught the previous night on the canal.

Chapter Sixty-nine - Lies & Videotape
"Auntie Em he's on next!" Rion sat glued to the tv. The local news, following on from the national and international items, was about to begin.
Behind her, next to the fireplace, Hum lay sedated in his fluffy leopard-print bed. He had been given antibiotics and solace by Doctor Alexander in his surgery off Westbourne Park Road and had now retired, his wounds well and truly licked, to sleep off the nightmare.
It had been decided the hound would recuperate at Auntie Em's. Ollie was still giving Wayne a hand at lA which, even with the windows open, was too full of dust and fumes for a recovering hound and Hum certainly couldn't stay alone at Ollie' s.
It was best the dog stayed where Rion could watch over him. Having recently been nursed back to health herself Rion was anxious to pass on some tlc to someone else - whether that was an animal or a human was immaterial to her.
"Auntie Em!" Rion again called through to the hall where Emma stood at the window waiting for an important package.
Uncharacteristically nervy Auntie Em looked at her watch, sighed and came through to the sitting room.
"Have you set the tape?"
Rion nodded hesitantly. "I think so. I followed the instructions anyway."
The video recorder had been set for Auntie Gem to watch later. She had phoned mid-morning to confirm her boss' appearance on 'Around You at Two' the popular local news slot.
Auntie Em checked the machine and was satisfied to see it had started recording.
"Do you think she'll be on as well?"
Auntie Em smiled at Rion as the fanfare announced the start of the programme. "I think she'll give it a damn good try don't you?"
They watched as the perky reporter introduced the featured stories. The lead item concerned the London restaurant awards being presented that night. The second was about the upcoming fireworks party on Primrose Hill. Item three was the one they had been waiting for.
From the studio 'perky reporter' flashed a brilliant smile at the camera. "Our third story comes live from West London with our reporter at large Alvin Baker - Alvin?"
A clean-cut young man in fashionably oversized glasses appeared on screen.
"He's in front of the factory!" Rion squealed.
The reporter stood beside the 'Peters & Peters' factory logo. Next to him stood Gemma's boss.
"That's Edwin." Auntie Em said.
Around You at Two's science correspondent began his piece to camera. "I'm here in West London with Sir Edwin Peters - "
"Sir!" Auntie Em laughed disdainfully.
" - managing director of the family firm at the heart of the pollution controversy surrounding this stretch of the Grand Union Canal."
Edwin rather nervously adjusted his tie at the mention of pollution.
"What do you say, Sir Edwin, to the allegations that it is your factory causing the death of all the fish on this stretch of canal?"
Sir Edwin visibly bristled as Alvin Baker shoved a microphone in his face. "Firstly there is no truth to these allegations and anyone furthering them will be receiving attention from my legal advisers."
Sir Edwin thought it best to throw that one in straight away: broadcasters, especially the smaller, local ones, were averse to the threat of legal action and damages.
"I have it on very good authority from independent pollution monitors that the cause of the destruction of fish life - "
As Sir Edwin went into his spiel Auntie Em said. "He's already pulled his ear three times."
In reply to Rion's questioning stare she explained. "It means he's lying."
From then on Rion was more interested in what Gemma's boss was doing with his hands than in what he was saying.
" - is due to the addition of chemicals into the canal environment by a certain railway company - "
"And stroked his hair." Auntie Em pointed out.
" - chemicals which of course we as an organic - "
"And again!" They both protested.
" - manufacturer couldn't use. A report from the independent monitors is available - "
Rion gestured at the tv. "Scratched his nose!"
" - and thank you for giving me the chance - "
At this the factory gates behind him opened.
" - to clear up any misunderstandings."
The camera followed Sir Edwin as he entered the compound. Helping the security guard close the gate was a figure they both recognised.
"It's Gem!" Auntie Em laughed.
Just before the gate closed on the cameraman Auntie Gem stuck her head out and smiled.
Auntie Em hugged Rion. "I knew she would!"
As the screen cut back to 'perky' in the studio Auntie Em switched off the video recorder. Behind them Hum whimpered in his sleep. "Poor love." Auntie Em went over to stroke the hound. "He's probably reliving the whole ghastly experience."
"The vet said he'd sleep all afternoon. Will he be ok with you?"
Auntie Em nodded. "I'm going out later for tea though."
"I should be back by then." Rion bent to kiss Hum on the forehead. "I said I'd go and see Jake that's all."
From the hall window Auntie Em saw her visitor with the all-important package coming down the mews. She followed Rion down the stairs.
"Send him my love, angel." Auntie Em had met Jake several times when Rion had been ill and thoroughly approved of the young man.
Opening the front door Rion found Nicky almost on the doorstep. In one hand the photographer carried a small parcel wrapped in plain brown paper.

Chapter Seventy - A Perfect Match
Nicky smiled upon seeing Rion. "Have you seen Ollie today?"
"Just a wave every now and then."
"Is he there at the moment?"
Rion put her head to one side and listened. She could hear the radio coming from lA but it wasn't too loud. "And working by the sounds of it. They switch the radio up when they're - you know - " Rion felt herself blushing. " - at it."
"Ah." Nicky said slowly as if pennies were dropping left, right and centre. "I was going to ask them to turn it down this morning. It was blasting for ages."
"That was when Ollie came back from his jog."
"Well, our boy looks rather fetching in his shorts doesn't he?" Auntie Em said.
"Especially with sweat dripping down his body." Rion giggled.
"Let him have his fun while he can." Auntie Em took the package from Nicky. "I have a feeling it won't last too long."
Auntie Em waved Rion off down the cobbled mews. Before the young girl had turned the corner Auntie Em had closed the front door.
"It's damn good I think." Nicky whispered then wondered why she was talking so softly.
Closely followed by Nicky Auntie Em hurried up the stairs into her bedroom where she ripped open the package. The contents made her gasp admiringly.
"I'm not sure which I prefer." She turned the object around, looking at it from all angles.
In her hands she held an exact copy of the miniature Candida and Wayne were looking for. Auntie Em took the original from her bed and placed it next to the fake. "We even got the frame almost exactly right."
Nicky had cleverly constructed the fake by photographing the original on matt paper, dulling the colours and then carefully sticking it to a piece of canvas stretched across board. With the glass, frame and a touch of ageing here and there it looked remarkably similar.
"It won't fool Candida for a second."
"But the hired hand will go for it don't you think?"
"Without a doubt." Nicky said with certainty. "When'll we do it?"
"When the time's right." Auntie Em thought for a second before saying slightly wearily. "He won't thank us for it."
"Maybe in time he will." Nicky put her arm around Auntie Em. "I hate to sound so parental here but," The photographer cringed at the approaching cliché. "it's for his own good."
Auntie Em smiled weakly. "Yes, yes." She murmured as she closed the bedroom door leaving the two Merlijnche de Poortjes side by side like disjointed twins.

Chapter Seventy-one - So Grace Kelly
Before going out Auntie Em looked at herself in the bedroom mirror. She was pleased with what she saw but thought something was missing - what else could she use that would increase her allure? After a few seconds thinking it came to her.
A scarf.
Rifling through the second shelf in her dressing room she tried several on before settling on a red gossamer number with a light yellow and blue pattern.
Placing the scarf over her head, she knotted it under her chin and again looked at herself. This time the image came back to her of an attractive but demure woman. Attractive but demure - just what she wanted to put over.
Leaving the mews she was stopped by a voice calling her.
"Auntie Em!"
She looked up to see Ollie standing at the sitting room window of 1A.
"Where are you going looking so Grace Kelly?"
Ollie always knew the words to charm her.
"Never you mind, sweetness."
"Stay right there!" He ordered. Ollie's place at the window was taken by Wayne.
Before Candida's henchman could speak Emma addressed him. "Mr Watson." She said curtly, hoping to God he wasn't going to call her Auntie Em. "Would you go and see Nicky this evening at six?"
The builder smiled down at her. "Sure Auntie Em."
Emma gritted her teeth. Before she could remind Wayne of the employer/employee relationship Ollie had flung the front door open.
In some strange way it hurt her to see how well he looked, knowing his happiness was based on deception.
"Well?" Ollie enquired, arching his eyebrows in a playful fashion. "I've been hearing rumours..."
"So have we dear." Auntie Em hid her sadness well. "Something about the radio increasing in volume from time to time?"
Ollie burst out laughing. "That obvious huh?"
"Not to me it wasn't." Auntie Em said tactfully before mentioning. "Nicky's feeling abit left out sweetness."
Ollie avoided Auntie Em's gaze. "I know, I've been stupidly pre-occupied lately."
If you only knew Auntie Em thought.
"Anyway she says to remind you about her upcoming session with Johnson. Go and see her tonight."
Ollie's face lit up before falling. "I can't. Johnson gave me his tickets to Chicago - I'm taking Wayne."
"Do you think that's his sort of thing angel?"
"Auntie Em. It's not like you to judge a book by its cover." Ollie said slightly crossly. "Just because Wayne's from Dagenham and obviously works out doesn't mean he's thick. He loves Dutch painting you know."
Auntie Em sighed. "So we've heard sweetness."
"Besides it's a musical not an opera. I think he can handle a couple of songs for Heaven's sake."
"Of course he can angel." Auntie Em gave him a peck on the cheek. "You go and enjoy yourself. Don't worry about Hum, he's fine with us."
Auntie Em carried on her way.

Chapter Seventy-two - No Hoax
Rion screamed when she saw Jake. She couldn't stop herself. Her friend was barely coherent, his lips had a scary bluish tinge and she was sure she could see specks of white at the corner of his mouth.
He was also incredibly pale.
"Jake!" She shook him by the shoulders but Jake had lost control of his muscles and simply flopped around like a rag doll.
It didn't take Florence Nightingale to realise he needed medical help.
Rion grabbed Jake's mobile phone and dialled 999. The emergency services answered promptly.
"Police, Fire or Ambulance?" The efficient voice at the other end enquired.
"Ambulance!" Rion choked.
"Where to Madam?"
Rion wailed. "The cemetery!"
The voice at the other end turned cold. "I suppose you'll be telling me next that it's for a dead friend?"
"I'm not sure, I think he might be - how did you know?" Rion gasped with relief.
There was an icy silence from the operator. "We don't appreciate these hoax calls Madam. You're blocking the lines for people that might really need us."
"But I do!"
"I could report you for wasting our time and I will do if you call again." The emergency operator clicked off the phone. It was the fourth joke call since his shift started.
"This is not a hoax!" Rion said before realising she had been disconnected.
She allowed herself one quick sob before racking her brains.
Remembering what they did in films Rion lightly slapped Jake on the face but it seemed to do no good. She looked in his eyes to see they were almost fully glazed over.
What else did they do?
Quelling the rising panic she remembered they always made people walk - but how was she going to do that?
"You've got to help me Jake." Rion put her arms around his waist and tried to help him up. "We're going to go and get help you and I." She spoke slowly and clearly.
Jake lolled his head in what Rion took for a nod. He tried to speak but all it did was increase the foam building at the corners of his mouth.
Jake appeared to switch on autopilot as they clambered, slid and fell down the vast tree trunk. Rion was grateful that it wasn't Senora Padilla's day for visiting her dead husband. Seeing a young girl and a ghostly white dribbling figure fall out of the tree above her would no doubt have speeded the Cuban widow's entrance into the spirit world.
With Jake semi-conscious against her Rion hobbled along the small path adjoining the canal. She looked around frantically for a cemetery guard but, in the manner of law enforcement officers everywhere, there wasn't one around when they were needed. After what seemed an age they were through the gates of the Dissenters Chapel and on the bridge at the top of Ladbroke Grove.
"Help me!" She pleaded with the first people she saw.
The couple glared at Jake and Rion. "Filthy junkies." The woman spat at them before taking her husband's arm and hurrying on.
The few other people coming their way crossed to the other side to avoid them. Rion tried to flag down a lone taxi that slowed down then sped up upon seeing the state they were in.
With Jake getting heavier and heavier against her, Rion decided the only thing to do was to head down the towpath for Meanwhile Gardens Mews.
But didn't Auntie Em say she had to be somewhere for tea? And what if - oh God please no - what if the volume on the radio had been turned up?
Praying for someone to be there - and not having sex - Rion staggered down the canal. She was acutely aware that Jake's breath was getting slower and slower.

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