Meanwhile Gardens: An Urban Adventure
Written by Charlie Caselton

Chapter Thirty-four - Ollie's Story
After they had wolfed down the stew, the mini pots of fromage frais were practically swallowed whole. Within seconds Jake and Rion looked at Ollie who knew his time had come.
He reached for the bottle of rum, took another quick swig and waited for the judder to subside. "Well." He coughed lightly to clear his throat. "I - " Where to begin? he wondered, his memory annoyingly clear even after the Appleton's and spliff.
With the firelight glowing on the faces in front of him Ollie began his story. The only reason he mentioned his public schooling on a vast Palladian estate near Buckingham was because it was there he met James. Ollie lightly touched on his family life, how his parents weren't suited and how he had been mainly brought up by his grandmother in London.
"Is she still alive?" Rion asked.
Ollie nodded. "Oh yes."
"And living in London?"
"Some of the time. She's taken to cruising like a," Ollie cleared his throat. "duck to water but if she's in town Gran can be found anywhere there's a Dior make-up counter."
"And your parents?"
"My father remarried when I was four and lives in the States. There's little contact or love there." Ollie said matter-of-factly. "My mother works for UNICEF. I see her occasionally for a couple of minutes on TV whenever there's a crisis." He raised his hands palms up. "That's that side of things."
Rion and Jake listened enthralled as Ollie told them of his travels with James after leaving school - trekking around India before wandering though Burma down into Thailand, to Sumatra, Java, Bali and finally to Australia. "We lived together at James place in Holland Park after coming back to England but soon realised we fancied other people: James - women, me - men."
"And you were ok with that?" Jake poked the dying fire, which obligingly flared into life.
Ollie took a deep breath - had he been ok with it? "Sure. There's often more love in friendship than friendship in love."
Jake stoked the flames with some well-placed branches. "And then what?"
Ollie looked at the fire for a while, mesmerised by the embers glowing a blistering red. "I went to Cornwall to study carpentry for two years. When I returned I shared a house - not lived with - James but it was too complicated. I moved out and into Meanwhile Gardens Mews where I've been for the past five years."
"And James?"
Ollie didn't answer the question immediately. "You know even though we weren't living together or anything like that we were still very protective over each other. There were many times when we used to sleep in the same bed - nothing else mind - just because to wake up to a loved one's face is one of the joys of the world no?"
Rion listened agog. Is this what people did? It all sounded so civilised, so grown-up.
"Anyway - " Ollie looked them level in the eye. He quickly decided it would be too much of a downer to tell them James had been killed in a car crash not five weeks before, the front seat passenger in a car driven by a complete wanker who was way over the limit and who, in the manner of things, escaped without a scratch. " - James isn't here anymore."
"Where's he gone?" Rion asked interested.
Ollie avoided their gaze. "Just away." He smiled weakly.
"But where?" Rion persisted.
Jake tapped her on the forearm. "Away will do." Before Rion could inquire further Jake launched into a lively anecdote that soon had the young girl's attention. Ollie listened, soothed by Jake's easy way and Rion's laughter. He was glad the focus was off him, off James. There might come a time when he could bring himself to tell them but tonight wasn't it.

Chapter Thirty-five - Redhanded
The chocolate-brown Mercedes jeep stopped outside the mews. Trellick Tower, lights glittering from balconies, rose into the darkness above them.
"He lives at number three." Candida pointed into the cobbled mews.
"The one with the yellow door?" Her companion was a man in his late twenties. His dark blue jeans and clean white T-shirt, stretched over his chest, couldn't hide the powerful body underneath. From his collection of baseball caps (ironically featuring the logos of American football teams) he had chosen the 49'ers - his favourite.
The woman nodded. "Let's just see if he's come back yet shall we?" She took out the mobile from her soft leather bag and dialled Ollie's number.
"Hi, you've reached - " She didn't need to hear the rest of the message and she certainly didn't want to leave one.
Candida parked the jeep on the road outside. "Stay here." She got out of the jeep and crept to the entrance of the small mews. She smiled in satisfaction upon noticing no lights were on in any of the houses. All was silent.
Seeing her enter the darkened mews her companion switched on the radio. He quickly found the Sports Station. This was going to be an easy job, he thought, and she's paying well. He smiled, scratched his crotch and listened to Arsenal beating Chelsea.

Not quite sure why, when there was no sign of life in the mews, Candida tiptoed over to Ollie's door. She felt slightly ridiculous but was aware of Hum's possible presence.
And she didn't want to disturb him.
Reminding herself that it is better to let sleeping dogs lie Candida gently pushed open the letterbox and peered through.
"Can I help you?"
The voice came from the house opposite.
Candida remained on her knees. She ran her hands over the doorstep as if she had lost something, then gave up. Her father had taught her to be honest if caught - or lie, lie, lie like hell.
Candida decided on a mixture of the two.
"No, I was trying to see if Oliver was - "
Nicky immediately recognised the cold, clipped tones of James' sister.
"We had an appointment and - "
" - and you turned up half an hour early to snoop through his stuff again? Is that it Candida?"
She straightened up and turned to face Nicky. The photographer stood at the window of her first floor sitting room opposite.
"You don't understand anything." Candida grimaced and began walking out of the mews. She hadn't got halfway to the jeep when she heard a door slam behind her.
"What I do understand is that it is an offence to enter someone's house without their permission."
Candida quickened her step. She didn't look round but could hear Nicky come out of the mews behind her.
"If I, or anyone else, see you snooping round here again Candida, we'll call the police."
Trying to keep as much dignity as possible Candida opened the driver's door and hopped up into the Jeep.
She switched the radio off and fired the engine.
"But they were just - " Wayne complained.
"In your own time bud." She snarled, her fondness for American cop shows suddenly revealing itself. With a satisfyingly dramatic squeal of tyres she did a u-turn and headed for Holland Park.
Wayne, adjusting his baseball cap, sulked next to her.

Chapter Thirty-six - Revelations
The shower cleared his head, the hot water pummelling away the marijuana hangover that fogged Ollie's brain. Although the rum and sinse had quickly run out, Jake had kept a steady supply of remarkably sweettasting grass going Ollie's way.
It was only later, after Jake had told him the batch was called 'headstone home-grown', that Ollie found out where the 'home' in home-grown was.
No wonder he had had strange dreams.
He didn't want to think about all the exceptional nutrients the plants had fed off to grow that sweet. Whatever the site specific minerals were he was fairly sure you couldn't get them in a florist.
Ollie thought back to the night before. He had a hazy memory of being ferried across the canal in a leaky canoe with Hum barking excitedly and a message from Nicky - something about Candida?
That part remained unclear.
What was clear, however, was the image of two newfound friends.
Towelling himself dry Ollie wandered through to the sitting room. He must tell Auntie Gem about her 'ghost'! He must tell them all, but it was only fair Auntie Gem knew first.
The phone rang before he could find the number for Peters & Peters.
"Nice to see you were out last night." Few things slipped past Auntie Em.
"I had a great time too."
"Good angel, you need to enjoy yourself more. Anyone I know?"
"No," Ollie smiled. "but you've heard of one of them."
"Ah , any more clues than that sweetness?"
Ollie couldn't stop himself. "Oh Auntie Em - I have monumental news!"
"I'm listening."
"I can't tell you until - can you and Auntie Gem come round tonight at about - " Ollie remembered he had arranged to deliver the Allen Jones table to Johnson Ogle in Hampstead at 7:30, add in the required stopover time for chat and fitting - he would be lucky to be out of there by 9. " - 9:30?"
"l'm sure we can sweetness."
"I'm out most of the day, I'll try and phone Nicky but would you tell her if you see her? It's important."
"My, but you are being mysterious."
"I might be late so let yourself in and Auntie Em?"
"Yes angel?"
Ollie was in two minds to whether to tell her the news now or not. He paused and decided against it. "Nothing."
"Are you sure you don't want to get it off your chest now, I won't breathe a word - "
"Tonight Auntie Em."
As Ollie clicked off the phone Auntie Em realised she hadn't told him about Candida. Still, she was sure Nicky would have told him and besides, Merlijnche de Poortje was safe with her wasn't she?

Chapter Thirty-seven - Waynes World
Ollie kept a close eye on Hum. Meanwhile Gardens still had jagged pockets of chicken bones, a reminder of Notting Hill Carnival months before when millions of people crammed into west London to drink, dance and eat jerk chicken the remnants of which, it appeared, they threw as one into the small park.
Although he had a duty to do his attention was soon taken by a figure near the pond. Ollie hadn't seen the man before. He was sure of that. Such a figure, hulking and masculine with cheekbones that looked carved from stone wouldn't have slipped easily from the storeroom of his mind.
But even without the powerful body and chiselled looks the man would have been memorable: full Aussie cowboy drag - hat, drizabone, moleskins and shiny brown boots, the whole lot topped by a natty pair of sunglasses - was just not normal attire for morning constitutionals in Meanwhile Gardens.
He also seemed to be scratching his crotch.
Alot.
The funny thing was Ollie thought he recognised the dog - a little Jack Russell, white with brown blotches - called Maisie.
The dog sort of ruined it for Ollie. Any guy that big with a dog that little had to be limpwristed. He probably did needlework, Ollie thought, his fantasy rapidly deflating. Not that he had anything against limpwristed needlework champions, he told himself quickly, it's just they did nothing for him.
As usual Hum bounded over to say hello to the Jack Russell making conversation between the two men inevitability. Ollie steeled himself for the destruction of his fantasy.
"Is this Maisie?" Ollie asked.
Wayne seemed thrown for a second, before immediately recovering. "No, it's - er - Dorothy."
The man's voice betrayed no sign of mincing nor effeminacy, in fact it had a satisfying East End gruffness that immediately rekindled Ollie's fading fantasy.
Ollie smiled. "Does that make you a friend of Dorothy?"
The joke was lost on Wayne.
"She's not mine." Wayne recovered quickly, realising what he was there to do. "She belongs to my aunt who had a bad fall. I'm just walking her." The bedridden aunt was Wayne's own invention and he was proud of it. Trying to think of something more to say he smiled his warmest of smiles at Ollie, put his hands in his pockets once more and jiggled away.
Ollie looked at the man playing pocket pool in front of him and raised an eyebrow.
"I haven't got crabs," Wayne said hurriedly. "It's just I shaved my - " He looked around him to make sure no one was in listening distance but the two men were alone in the park. Suddenly self-conscious Wayne stared at the ground before whispering. " - balls yesterday and they itch like crazy."
Ollie smiled quizzically and carried on.
Wayne left Meanwhile Gardens near the Cobden Club. Waiting near the park gates was a young boy with cropped hair and an Umbro shirt. He looked about twelve but smoked a cigarette with the attitude of a sixteen year old.
"It's a tenner now. You were longer than you said." The young boy took Maisie.
Wayne began to argue then quickly handed over two five-pound notes. What did he care? He would claim it as expenses and let Candida reimburse him.

Chapter Thirty-eight - Could it have been a line?
"He said what?" Nicky asked.
Ollie stood on his neighbour's doorstep and repeated what the man in the park had said.
"Is that like code?"
"Does it sound like code Nicks?! Come on, if there was a message there it certainly wasn't hidden."
"How should I know? - you guys with your nods, your winks, your hankies, active this, passive that.."
Ollie knew what she meant. He sometimes felt you needed a dictionary more than a personality to negotiate a relationship these days.
"Could it have been a line?"
"Nicks - if you wanted to come on to someone the word 'crabs' wouldn't come anywhere near your chat up line would it?"
"Not unless it was linked to 'soft-shell', 'ginger' and 'Chinese restaurant on Queensway.' Give me a break Ol, I've been in the darkroom all morning." Nicky breathed in the fresh air, relieved to be out of the little room under the stairs and in the daylight once more.
"Those chemicals getting to you?"
"And that shabby red light - ugh! - I'll never get used to it. Never!" Nicky shivered at the thought. "Anyway maybe the guy was just tongue-tied for chrissake."
Ollie chuckled reproachfully. "I'm not the sort of guy that makes other guys tongue-tied."
"You will be if you carry on with the jogging."
"He could have been out of practice I guess." Ollie conceded. "With a body like that he probably hasn't needed chat-up lines in years."
"Did you get my message? About Candida?"
Ollie had a vague recollection of struggling with his answerphone the previous night. "Sort of."
"She was snooping around again."
"Was she alone?"
"There was some guy in the jeep - either that or an incredibly butch woman."
"Candida always gets what she wants you know."
"Maybe not this time." A smile crossed Nicky's face.
Ollie followed the photographer into her studio which took up the whole of the ground floor. He gasped upon entering the large room.
"They're beautiful Nicks."
Hanging on a line across the back window were large black and white photos of Andy, the results of the previous day's session.
"I still say his name is Will though. Did he - er - "
"Mention you?" Nicky asked, momentarily raising Ollie's hopes. "No sweetie, he didn't I'm afraid."
Ollie moved closer to the pictures.
"Which is your favourite?" Nicky asked.
Ollie studied each one: Andy smiling, looking up, looking down, winking sexily, staring moodily into the distance, slapping his thigh laughing, his face half in shadow...
There was no doubt in Ollie's mind. He immediately pointed to the one in the middle.
Nicky unpegged the photo of Andy winking sexily. "Auntie Em says there's a pow-wow at yours tonight." She waved the photo in front of Ollie's face. "I'll give you this if you tell me what's going on."
Ollie took the picture from her. "9:30 Nicks. Don't be late."

Chapter Thirty-nine - Let it rain
What started off as mid-morning drizzle had by lunchtime turned into steady rain.
Rion felt secure in Heron Point, and, more importantly, she felt dry. Old George had known what he was doing. Although the wet weather made the chamber feel damp, Rion noticed with satisfaction that there wasn't a drop of water inside at all.
Outside was another matter.
From time to time Rion pulled the blanket back and peered out. The clearing had taken on an increasingly soggy appearance. By six o'clock it lay under nearly two inches of water.
By seven o'clock Rion was starting to feel fed up. And very bored.
She had read the self-help book again. That made five times she had read 'Face the Fear and Eat It' since Tanya had given it to her some months before.
Rion had faced the fear and eaten as much as she could. She knew she had. She was here in London but doing what exactly?
She had finished the crosswords in all the magazines, read and re-read articles but now her eyes were tired - and so were the batteries in the torch.
She couldn't write by candlelight and it was best not to use the torch unless she had to.
The food Jake had bought last night was nearly finished and, she realised unhappily, he wouldn't be back until late tonight.
Hoping to God she was wrong Rion felt the familiar ache in her shoulders that normally foreshadowed a bout of illness.
She curled up in the sleeping bag and dreamt of her new life in London, of working for Ultra, of expensive make-up and beauty treatments, of friends, of feathered gowns by John Galliano.
Rion felt the rumbling grow and grow from deep inside her. Her breath constricted in ever shorter wheezes, her lungs expanded to their full capacity until, unable to contain the pressure any longer, she let out a magnificent, yelping sneeze.
Outside it continued to rain.

Chapter Forty - Houseboys (and girls)
It was still raining when Ollie turned into the drive of Johnson Ogle's large house on Heath Road. For an interior decorator, or 'lifestyle enhancer' as Johnson insisted on calling himself, he had done incredibly well. Although his many critics complained that the only lifestyle he had enhanced was his own, Johnson nevertheless had a following of loyal, and very rich, clients from Malibu to Mustique who required their various houses 'doing'.
Often once or twice a year.
He had now reached the enviable stage of being in the same financial bracket as alot of his clients, a fact represented by the beautiful corner house with half-a-dozen winding red brick chimneys that backed onto Hampstead Heath.
A houseboy Ollie didn't recognise showed him into the hall where Johnson awaited.
"Coffee in the conservatory please." The lifestyle enhancer ordered before kissing Ollie on both cheeks. "I was so sorry to hear about James." He took Ollie by the arm, leading him through to the rear of the elegant house. "You got the chocs?"
Ollie nodded. He had never seen such an enormous box of chocolates as the ones that had arrived from Godiva the week of the funeral.
"I thought you would find them more comforting than flowers which are just too deadly at such a time."
The conservatory, a Victorian affair Johnson bought at a Scottish country house sale and had transported down "at vast expense," he said proudly, lined the entire back of the building.
Johnson gestured to the orchids that filled the room. "Goldie gave me one when she was here and I've since gone completely mad for them. Of course you know Meryl has nothing else in her Manhattan bedroom apparently they do wonderful things with ionisation - no more plugging in ugly little boxes 'cos these babies," Johnson surveyed the plants. "do it naturally."
Upon hearing a gentle rattling Johnson turned to Ollie. "Tell me what you think of the new 'boy' although, as you can see," Johnson smiled, "I use the term loosely."
The houseboy entered wheeling a trolley upon which was an elegant silver coffee service. Ollie studied the young man in the crisp black uniform of the Ogle household. With his fresh face and tightly cropped hair he was no different from a thousand other personable young men.
Johnson waved the boy away. "We'll do it ourselves thank you - " He winked at Ollie. " - Leila." Johnson, in that drawl so favoured by the English who travel constantly, made the name sound like 'Lyle-a'.
Ollie assumed it must be some pet name, either that or he had misheard. He looked after the departing houseboy. "Apart from the fact that he's not called Gerardo and is not Latin American - ?"
"Lesbians." Johnson hissed. "They're the way forward."
Ollie tried to digest the sentence.
"They don't want to mother you like straight women do and you don't want to sleep with them like - " Johnson fluttered his hand in the air. "Gerardo."
"Or Eduardo, Rodolfo, Diego ..." Ollie added.
"Exactly. It always ends in tears. Just too much trouble. And so - " Johnson fluttered his hand again as he tried to find the right word. " - temperamental."
Yes, Ollie thought, all of your lovers had tempers and they were all rather mental.
"But lesbians - they're perfect, they love to wear uniform and they're reassuringly dependable which, of course, fits in perfectly with my own modus operandum."
Ollie had heard Johnson's philosophy spiel before. He made the decorator stew for a few seconds before asking. "Which is?"
"Well," The decorator began, happy to tell his story again. "you know the secret of my success is to be reassuring and dependable. I can always be relied on to find something 'just so' for a library or guest suite, and I'm always there to walk them to the opera or some ghastly ball and they know I'll make them enjoy it."
Listening to Johnson Ollie could see what his clients saw in him. Everything about him was reassuring, his voice was calm and rich, his looks were ruggedly Harrison Ford - although Harrison Ford on a bad day
"Or Harrison Ford on a fag day." Ollie joked.
"Harrison doesn't have fag days." Johnson smiled at his guest, revelling in the ease with which he dropped the star's first name. " - but Harrison on a bad day is better than 98% of men on their best days."
Ah, that ever-elusive 2% of men - wherever were they? Lulled by Johnson's warm manner Ollie looked at the rain outside and wondered how Rion was coping. With Jake's experience he was sure she was doing just fine.
"And of course I'm gay, which the wives find reassuring - they know that with me they're not going to get some minimalist crap pressed on them by some devoutly hetero family man with an obnoxious puritanical streak, no, with me they can swag and tassell with handmade Venetian fabrics until they drop."
Ollie looked around him. Apart from a riot of gilt, some dubious trompe l'oeil columns and the odd leopard print cushion, Johnson's house betrayed more of the minimalism his clients hated than the swagging they loved.
"And the husbands find it reassuring 'cos they know that I'm not going to jump their wives and that, whilst with me, their wives are not going to jump the lithe surfer poolboy or the studly stable manager with the sexy Gloucestershire burr - Lady Chatterly is still an inspiration to many of these women."
Ollie's thoughts wandered once more to the wellbuilt guy in Meanwhile Gardens. Did what he said really classify as small talk? Ollie was brought back to the conservatory in Hampstead by the clapping of hands. He looked up to find Johnson beaming at him.
"But let's see this table shall we?"

Chapter Forty-one - Blow Jogs??
Ignoring Hum's reproachful look from the passenger seat Ollie opened the back of the van. He observed the new house'boy' as she helped carry the two carved wooden pedestals, and the blanket-wrapped plate of glass that fitted securely on top, into the morning room.
The only thing Ollie noticed was the complete lack of spots or the beginnings of stubble that the 17-year-old boy she looked like would have. But then being 22 and female her hormones would be entirely different.
"Do I know the model?" Johnson looked at the pedestals. The two wooden bases, both exactly the same, showed a male form on his knees, his muscled back flat over his body. His head and neck were straight as if looking at something on the floor in front of him. The figure's arms were curled behind him, his hands demurely covering his backside.
"Not unless you're 2000 years old."
Johnson looked in one of a pair of gilt Louis Quinze mirrors. "That reminds me." He put his hands beneath his temples and lifted them up to make the already smooth skin on his face even smoother. "It's about time I saw Dr Richardson."
"Dr - ?" Ollie gave Johnson an enquiring look.
Johnson lightly slapped his temples. "Collagen." He explained.
Ollie lifted the sheet of glass, easily slotting it into the two prepared grooves at the base of the man's neck. The table was now in place.
"Bit modest isn't he?" Johnson sniffed. "I was expecting something more fully frontal."
"But it's not for you is it Johnson?"
Johnson hummed and hawed, certain if Ollie knew they were for someone else he would raise the price. "Weeeell.."
Ollie took out his ever-present notepad and pen. "Is this more what you had in mind?" He quickly sketched an upside down man in the crab position. "I could make a pair of mainly decorative tables which, by making the stomach really flat, you could put a mug on - "
"It's a cup and saucer in this house."
" - but perhaps little else, or," Ollie gestured to the table he had just assembled. "I could make them bigger, more of the coffee table size - "
"Hmmmmm." Johnson looked at Ollie's sketch. "Let's go for the decorative tables for the time being but," Johnson took Ollie's pen and drew in a more bulging crotch. "make them more like this ok?"
Johnson looked at the rain pouring down outside and sighed. "Such a shame the weather's so foul. I was hoping to go for my exercise."
Ollie knew this was a cue for a compliment. Johnson looked at him with big eyes, waiting.
"I thought you looked well Johnson."
Johnson smiled. "Well I've been going for regular aerobic exercise, what we in Hampstead call, - " He paused then whispered conspiratorially. " - 'blow-jogs.'"
Ollie hadn't heard this before but the term was self-explanatory. Just in case he had missed the meaning Johnson explained. "Everybody's at it at this time of day. All the City boys and dealers come back from work, jog up to the Heath and - "
"I get it. I get it."
"There must be a lot of spouses mystified as to why their partners are still as unfit as they were before. It's taken over from walking the dog as the favourite excuse and not a moment too soon. There's nothing more offputting than having someone go down on you only to have Fido come sniffing round.."
Unwilling to hear any more of the sex lives of Hampstead denizens Ollie got up. "I have to go Johnson. I'll let you know about the tables."

Chapter Forty-two - Things can only get - ?
By nine o'clock Rion was ready to move out. Water had started trickling over the high first step about half an hour before. In the flickering candlelight she could now see several large pools on the chamber floor - several large pools getting larger, she realised unhappily.
It was time for action.
Wriggling out of the snug sleeping bag Rion was surprised at how cold it was. With her throat beginning to burn and her limbs feeling suddenly heavy, Rion struggled into her black and white checked trousers, pulled on her fleece and swung her legs over the bed.
The first disappointment was finding her trainers, an island of shoe in one of the large pools beneath the bed. She shivered. There could be nothing worse than squeezing cold feet into already wet sneakers.
Rion felt she was starring in her own horror film as the guttering candle threw uncomfortable shapes over the ceiling and walls. She grabbed the pencil-torch from the shelf, pulled on her white pac-a-mac and drew back the now sodden, heavy pink blanket from the doorway. The accompanying breeze blew out the already sputtering candles.
Switching on the torch Rion was dismayed to find its weak beam barely pierced the darkness. "Here we go Rion." She said to herself, strengthened by the sound of her own voice. "Think of Blondin, think of crossing the - " The next word came surprisingly naturally as Rion took her first step into the pool that had once been the little clearing. " - Niagara." She said miserably, feeling the cold water slosh into her shoes and around her feet.
To keep the demons away Rion began to whistle and then sing one of her favourite songs. It was a chirpy number that always lifted her spirits, but this time her voice struggled hoarsely with the tune. "Things can only get better," she began, "can only get bett - "
As she got to the second line of the chorus her foot met with one of the stones around what was once the fire. With her toes well and truly stubbed Rion did a hop of pain. She momentarily lost her balance, slipped and landed bum first in the unfortunately refreshing water.
A second later she heard a small splash which, with a sinking feeling, she realised was the torch.
Deciding it would be useless to look for the torch which, in any case, would now be completely unworkable, Rion made for the dimness of the opening. Thinking she couldn't get any wetter she pushed through the dripping saplings, realising once more, how wrong she could be.
Now completely soaked Rion found her way to the fence, squeezed past the broken railing and entered the cemetery. Shivering she knocked into several headstones as she headed for the mass of Jake's tree. He would want her to go there, she told herself, to get warm and dry, perhaps a change of clothes.Rion quickened her step - a change of clothes! The notion at first sounded so remote it appeared inaccessible.
Lost in the dream of warm dry clothes Rion didn't notice the headlights coming down the avenue.
Until it was too late.
From the interior of the guards' jeep Rion appeared lit up as an eery ghoul.
"What the hell is that Gorby?" The younger guard turned to the driver, darkness hiding the strawberry birthmark that gave the older guard his name.
"Beats me." Gorby replied before winding down his window. "Hey!"
Rion turned round to be blinded by the powerful lights. Panicking she ran onto the woodchips of a smaller path, the lights of the jeep showing her the way between the tombs on either side.
Hearing a door slam behind her she ran on, ignoring the voices that called into the night. Her wet clothes hung cold and heavy against her restricting her progress, her waterlogged trainers chafed her feet, but Rion ran as fast as she could.
When she was out of the jeep's glare she turned round to see two powerful torches searching the night in her wake. Rion squelched on, soon ducking behind an ornate mausoleum to catch her breath and get her bearings.
She figured she was on a small path off South Avenue, not far from the main entrance gateway that would, at this hour, be securely locked.
What had Jake told her again? She wracked her memory. Something about another escape route through the fence near the Reformer's Memorial? Or was it the Dissenter's Chapel? They were both in the direction she was going - she would find out when she got there.
Rion could hear the guards' coming closer and closer. She held her breath, certain they could hear her beating heart.
Or her chattering teeth.
She saw the torches light up grieving angels and marble steles, the powerful beam flashing over burial plots and into corners in their search for the trespasser.
Feeling another huge sneeze come on Rion watched, eyes watering, as the two guards gave up the search. Halfway to the jeep Gorby turned round and flashed his torch at the ornate tomb. The momentary adrenaline rush scared the sneeze away although Rion wasn't sure if she had jumped back fast enough.
"She's vanished." The younger guard said.
"Spooks always do." Gorby replied, although he wasn't so sure. He was intrigued though. This 'spook' could be just what he was looking for.

Chapter Forty-three - An Unexpected Arrival
Ollie had only been back for five minutes before Hum barked ahead of an urgent knock on the door. He opened it to find Nicky on the doorstep.
"Come on! Come on!" Clutching a bottle of wine she pushed past him. "Don't you know it's raining out there?"
Ollie looked at his watch. It was quarter past nine. "You're fifteen minutes early." Ollie grumbled as he followed Nicky up the stairs and into the sitting room.
"Yeah, well, I thought I might get a headstart on the news if I arrived early." Nicky rummaged through the cutlery drawer, found the corkscrew and quickly opened the wine.
"Not until Gem 'n Em get here."
Nicky poured a glass for Ollie and then one for herself. "How was Johnson?"
Ollie began telling her about the lifestyle enhancer and his blow-jogs when again Hum's bark preceded another series of knocks.
"So when you say you're going jogging we're not going to find you, trousers around your ankles, in the bushes along the canal?" Nicky called to Ollie as he went down to open the door.
With a smile Ollie swung open the door to let in Auntie Gem and Auntie Em.
"We're not too early are we dear?" Auntie Gem asked.
"Nicky's already here. She thought I might spill the beans before you arrived."
"And did you?" Auntie Em kissed him on the cheek and went up the stairs.
"He wouldn't, would you child?" Auntie Gem tickled his ribs as she followed Em up to the sitting room.
"Of course not."
The two very different ladies - Auntie Em, white, tall, in her early fifties and Auntie Gem, five foot one, black, closing on seventy - settled themselves on the sofa.
Nicky handed them a glass of wine each. "Don't worry he hasn't told me anything."
"Now precious," Auntie Em began. "What is this 'monumental news'?"
"Firstly, it's just - " Ollie began pacing up and down in front of the fireplace. "What would you think about if - and that's all it is at the moment an 'if' - someone moved into 1A?"
His question met with silence. Even Nicky was quiet. 1A, the house next to Ollie's, was known as the 'unlucky house' due to the mishaps that befell its residents. It hadn't been lived in since the McGuires left four years ago.
Auntie Em was the first to speak. "You know how we feel about that angel."
Ollie did know. Auntie Em, in some way, felt responsible for the unhappiness that had affected the inhabitants of 1A. In her eyes everyone who had moved in there had met with misfortune.
Two had ended up in addiction clinics, one had been sectioned, the Robinsons had divorced, prior to that Lily McGuire's son had met with that terrible accident - Auntie Em linked a whole catalogue of wretchedness to the 'unlucky' house.
"But if you think about it Auntie Em some of those disasters were actually blessings. Harriet and Sasha have been clean now for several years, Martin got the help he needed, the Robinsons - well, they weren't really suited anyway and Lily's boy - when they removed the spike they found he had a much more serious condition which, if left untreated, would have been potentially fatal."
Nicky came to his aid. "Sasha and Harriet say getting clean was the best thing that happened to them."
"Who is it that wants to move in?"
"Well, that's just it Auntie Gem. I haven't told her - this person - about 1A but I have a feeling she needs our help, or will do soon."
"Ollie, this isn't one of your lost causes is it?" Nicky asked, her tone had changed from one of support to one of suspicion.
"You're very sweet, angel, but you can be too trusting sometimes." Auntie Em chimed in.
"And too nice. Remember Stan?"
Ollie didn't really want to. "But he - "
"Remember Stan?" Nicky persisted.
"Yes." Ollie said crossly, remembering the builder who came to replaster the sitting room ceiling, moved in with Ollie before promptly moving out with his stereo, record collection and one of Nicky's cameras. It was only after some diligent sleuthing that they found everything at the record & tape exchange in Notting Hill Gate.
"We got it all back though."
"That's not the point Ol."
"Why don't you tell us abit more about this person?" Auntie Gem asked. She refilled Auntie Em's glass, before standing to top up Nicky's.
"Well," Ollie said. "You sort of know her Auntie Gem."
It was at that moment Rion chose to make her entrance. Having made it to Meanwhile Gardens Mews she found the door to number 3 was open ajar. From his bed at the top of the stairs Hum opened one eye and half-heartedly wagged his tail.
As Auntie Gem moved round to pour some wine into Ollie's glass she felt a blast of cold air come up the stairwell. She looked over the banister.
What she saw froze her blood.
Seeming to hover halfway up the stairs was the ghostly figure of the young girl from the cemetery. But this time, Auntie Gem noted, she looked like she had crawled through the gates of Hell. Large, haunted eyes looked up at her, her mouth opened beseeching, beseeching, croaking some satanic message from the otherside.
Rion's long bedraggled hair was matted to her mud spattered face, her white-pac-a-mac floated around her in the current of air. With her sore throat killing her she tried to call Ollie's name but nothing came out apart from a dreadful hoarse growling. Looking up Rion saw a horrified black woman holding a bottle of wine.
With a scream Auntie Gem collapsed back into the sitting room and fainted dead away.

Chapter Forty-four - Empty Space
The rain had finally slowed to drizzle when Jake made it home to Kensal Green Cemetery. The house painting in the wilds of Stoke Newington would take another three days at least. If they finished before the weekend the actor whose house it was had promised a handsome bonus. It would be another early start in the morning.
Jake looked at his watch to find it was nearly 12.30. He had to be away by six which meant, he realised, five hours sleep maximum.
He had tried to convince himself all day that Rion would be all right. Afterall Old George had seen off much worse weather with never a drop on the chamber floor.
He had tried to convince himself but failed.
Underneath he had this nagging feeling that Rion wasn't ok, that something unfortunate had happened to the young girl.
Squeezing through the railings and the dripping saplings Jake whistled his arrival. He wasn't too put out when there was no welcoming whistle in return - Rion would surely be wrapped up in the sleeping bag, fast asleep.
When he found the clearing under water he realised things might be worse than expected.
"Rion." Jake whispered, then louder. "Rion!" There was no reply.
He pulled the heavy blanket back from the doorway. When he flashed his torch inside Jake saw something he had never seen in all of the years he had known Old George.
The floor of the chamber was completely under water, not a dry patch of ground was there.
The beam from his torch bounced around the space but there was no sign of Rion. His hopes rose for a moment upon seeing the sleeping bag on the bed but it was clear, even from the doorway, that no one was inside.
Jake splashed into the chamber. He could see Rion's clothes were still there which was a good sign. He looked in vain for a note but there was none.
If nothing sinister had happened to her there was only one place he realised she could go. To Ollie's. He hoped with all his heart she had gone there.

Chapter Forty-five - Spirits Put to Bed
In fact Rion was curled up in the spare room of Gem 'n Em's house at the end of the mews.
"How is she?" Ollie asked as Auntie Em came out of the room, leaving the door open ajar.
Auntie Em sunk into the sofa beside Nicky. "She's sound asleep but has quite a temperature."
Ollie poured Auntie Em a cup of tea from the freshly made pot.
"Mmmmmm." She took a sip of the soothing hot drink. "Thanks sweetness." Auntie Em leaned back and closed her eyes. "What a night it's been." She murmured. Ollie and Nicky could only agree. What a night indeed.
Alot had happened since Rion's arrival and Auntie Gem's subsequent fainting.
The young girl had run from the house upon hearing Auntie Gem scream. She had hardly got out of the front door before Ollie realised who it was and what was going on. He managed to bring her back upstairs to the sitting room where Auntie Em and Nicky tried to bring Gem round by splashing water on her face.
After much fluttering of eyelids Auntie Gem opened her eyes to see Rion directly in her line of vision. The thought that she had woken up in Hell occasioned another bout of screaming.
This in turn brought on an uncontrollable bout of sneezing from Rion. What with Auntie Gem screaming and Rion caught in a spluttering and sneezing frenzy the only thing left was for Hum to join in.
Which he did.
Excited by all that was going on around him the dog threw himself into the centre of things and barked like mad.
Auntie Em thought the world was coming to an end.
After much persuading Auntie Gem understood that the bedraggled girl in front of her was not a spirit sent from Hell. Rion's wheezes subsided with Auntie Gem's screams until the old lady's whimpers were matched by the young girl's sobs.
Still shaken but much calmed down, Auntie Gem was taken to her room, given a sleeping pill, some hot tea and tucked up in bed where Ollie read her stories about Princess Diana until the old lady fell asleep.
While this was going on Nicky and Auntie Em gave Rion a hot, very bubbly, bath and one of Ollie's long t-shirts to sleep in. Ginger tea with a dash of rum, a double dose of Uniflu, clean sheets and a large duvet soon had Rion in the land of Nod.
With relief Ollie, Nicky and Auntie Em drank their tea. The only sound in the house the gentle wheeze of Auntie Gem snoring.
After a while Nicky asked. "Does she have family?"
"Bridlington or somewhere I think. Up north anyway."
"Shouldn't we contact them?"
Ollie let out a big sigh. "I think that would be the worst thing we could do. Didn't you see her body?"
Both Auntie Em and Nicky shook their heads. "She was adamant we turn around when she got in and out of the bath."
"And made sure there were lots and lots of bubbles." Nicky added.
"Well - " Ollie shook his head, he couldn't understand how people could do that to anyone let alone their own children. "There's bruising around her arms and neck and two very nasty cigarette burns - "
Nicky stopped him. "Cigarette burns?" She asked in horror.
Ollie nodded. " - on the underside of each wrist."
Auntie Em winced.
Ollie told them all he knew about Rion, about her family, about Jake. When he had finished Nicky and Auntie Em sat staring straight ahead.
"It's not surprising she ran away." Nicky said.
Auntie Em welled up. "The poor, poor child."
"Anyway she's the one I told you who needed our help, the one I thought might move into number 1A."
"She's staying here for the time being and that's that." There was no arguing with Auntie Em when she used that tone of voice. "We'll think about lA if and when - ok? At the moment let's just get her better."

After Ollie and Nicky had left Auntie Em went in to the spare room. Rion was muttering in her sleep. The words didn't make sense to Auntie Em. Something about omelettes and what sounded like 'Blondie'.
Auntie Em wiped the sweat from the girl's brow. Before settling herself in the armchair in the corner of the room Auntie Em lifted up Rion's wrist. There, like Ollie said there would be, were two sullen red scabs.
Auntie Em grimaced. This one wasn't going to be taken away from her, she vowed, not this time.

Chapter Forty-six - Knicker Thief
Gorby arrived for work early the next morning. In the daylight the birthmark that gave him his nickname was visible. It spread magnificently over the left side of his bald head like a Rorschach test in red ink.
"I thought you weren't on until later?" One of the night guards enquired as Gorby changed into the off-green uniform of the cemetery keepers.
Gorby smiled and tapped his nose. "Overtime."
His colleague grunted and returned to his paper.
Gorby made his way past the tombs of Oxford Avenue and carried on all the way down until he had almost reached the canal. The only burial place of note in this otherwise unvisited section was the simple grave of Marigold Churchill, the infant daughter of Sir Winston and Lady Clementine.
This was about the place, he reckoned, where he had seen the young girl the previous night. Over the years several homeless men had bedded down in the cemetery only to be thrown out by the guards. But this was different.
This was a young girl.
If she were homeless she would be perfect. No one would miss her. No one would know she had gone.
It didn't take him long to notice the track snaking through the overgrown headstones. He followed it until he came up against the iron railings of the boundary fence. Seeing the path continued on the other side Gorby pushed the broken rail to one side, squeezed through and carried on along an increasingly narrow path between the trees.
Thinking he could go no further he turned sideways, inching towards an opening on the other side of which he could see an open space.
He pushed through, to find himself in an overwhelmingly muddy clearing. On one side he could see a dirty pink blanket hanging across what looked like a doorway.
"Hello?" He moved closer to the opening. "Kensal Green Keepers, is there anyone there?"
Gorby pulled the covering to one side, his nose wrinkled automatically at the rank, dank smell of the chamber.
He tied the heavy blanket back and entered, immediately realising that this was where the young girl was hiding.
Gorby opened the chest of drawers, reached in and took a souvenir.
He smiled in satisfaction. She would be perfect.

Chapter Forty-seven - Reprimands & Meagre Possessions
Entering the cemetery Ollie knew he had to find Jake. The only clue Jake had given him was that he lived 'round here' and that the marijuana he grew was called 'headstone homegrown'. Where on earth would he start? Looking at the sea of graves and mausolea before him he wondered if he should rephrase question.
Perhaps 'Where in Heaven?' might be more suitable.
Or, he shivered, 'Where in Hell?'
Deciding Jake might be in the chamber by the canal or that, at least, he might have left a note there for Rion, Ollie thought it best to head there first.
Seeing there was no-one around he let Hum off the lead. As soon as he had done so he realised it was a mistake. The dog immediately raced after a squirrel, scattering graveside vases of flowers in tile process.
"It's dog-training for you." Ollie cursed under his breath. He felt like crossing himself as he saw Hum cock his leg over several simple tombs in the distance. He watched as the hound made instinctively for the broken railing in the border fence and jumped through.
Arriving in the same spot Ollie saw a man emerge from the direction of the chamber. The man was dressed in the dull green uniform of the cemetery guard. He was wiping his nose with what looked like a handkerchief which, upon seeing Ollie, he hurriedly stuck in his pocket.
"You haven't seen a dog in there have you?" Ollie tried desperately not to look at what was an exceptional birthmark on the man's head. "Black, shaggy, mischievous?"
"All dogs must be kept on leads." Gorby said gruffly, annoyed at the owner of the dog that just moments before had nipped at his heels. "Didn't you see the signs at the main gate?"
"No , I - "
The man squeezed past the broken railing and pushed past him. "Well read next time. They're put there for a reason."
Just as Ollie thought of something snappy to say in return Hum appeared, barking in delight at seeing him. The dog jumped through the railings, sat at his master's feet and looked up at him with twinkling eyes.
"Now you're good aren't you?" Ollie clipped the lead securely to Hum's collar.
As he headed towards the Anglican chapel in the middle of the cemetery Gorby looked round to see the owner petting his dog by the fence.
The guard reached in his pocket, took out Rion's thin white underwear, caressed them between his fingers and carried on his way.
With the guard no longer in sight Ollie thought it safe to venture forward. Just as he was about to push the railing aside a four-note-whistle stopped him. Ollie turned to see Jake coming out from behind a large tree about 15 yards away.
"Is Rion with you?" Jake asked concerned.
"I was coming to tell you she's ok."
Ollie could see the relief on Jake's face. "I knew she'd be with you if she had any sense. It's best if she stays there for the time being too. That guard'll be back."
"Well, she's sort of ok."
Jake's face dropped.
"I mean, she will be ok," Ollie continued. "She has a terrible fever and - "
Ollie thought it unnecessary to fill Jake in on how Rion had looked when she staggered into his house the previous night, nor about the chaos and confusion that ensued with Auntie Gem.
" - she's tucked up in bed at my neighbours'. The worst thing that can happen is she'll be mothered to death." Ollie suddenly thought of Rion's family history and wondered if he couldn't have phrased Rion's condition a little more delicately. Luckily Jake hadn't noticed.
"I wasn't sure of your address but I was sure I could track you down." Jake smiled for the first time that morning. "There can't be too many Ollie's, nor too many mews beneath Trellick Tower."
"People know the dog." Ollie bent to scratch Hum between the ears. "They might not remember me but they always remember Hum."
Jake headed for the chamber. "We'd better get her stuff out. They'll be back and soon."
It didn't take long to get Rion's worldly possessions. The few clothes packed easily into the plastic knapsack, the old magazines, now damp, and the dog-eared copy of 'Face The Fear & Eat It', went into the GHOST carrier.
"I should have been in Stoke Newington hours ago but I had to make sure Rion was ok."
Jake took a card out of his overalls and gave it to Ollie. The simple business card advertised his services as a painter/decorator with the well-worn slogan: 'No job too big or small'. A number for a mobile lined the bottom.
"Let me know how Rion's doing, get her to call if she can." Jake grimaced. "The next few days are the worst for me and I'm working late all week." Jake quickly glanced at his watch. "I have to run."
"Wait." Ollie tore off a small piece of Jake's card and wrote his number on it. "Just remember Meanwhile Gardens Mews, mine's the only house with a yellow door."
Jake put the paper in his pocket and disappeared.
Ollie took a last look around the muddy chamber. Without Rion's presence and belongings it looked sadly uninhabitable. He was about to leave when something caught his eye. Moving to the bed he carefully took down the treasured cutting of Blondin crossing the Niagara. He decided to leave the picture of Jesus with arms outstretched and open heart. Whoever stayed here next might benefit from his presence.

Chapter Forty-eight - A Diagnosis
Ollie was just about to knock on Gem 'n Em's door when it opened in his face. Dr Gidwani came out followed by Auntie Em.
"The infection will go but she needs rest. Call me if the condition gets worse. I'll check back after work tonight Miss Nelson." The doctor nodded at Ollie before leaving.
"What's the diagnosis Auntie Em?" Ollie asked but Auntie Em just looked at the handsome Indian as he walked out of the mews. "Such a nice man." She sighed, lost in thoughts of multi-coloured saris, incense and writhing acrobatics.
"Auntie Em?" Ollie prompted but it was a few seconds before the elegant woman returned to reality. When she did she seemed surprised to see Ollie in front of her.
"Auntie Em," Ollie began once more. "what did the doctor say?"
"Nasty chest infection coupled with flu of Asian origin, sweetness, and everything aggravated by asthma."
"So - ?"
"Lots of rest and antibiotics and few visitors." Auntie Em again smiled and looked into the middle distance. "Be an angel, angel, and get this from the chemist." She fished in her pocket and gave Ollie the recently written prescription.
Rion was barely awake when Ollie came in, his arms full of magazines.
"There all this month's." He put the glossies on the bedside table before sitting beside the pale young girl. "Did Auntie Em tell you I got your stuff?"
Before Rion could speak Ollie put up his hand to stop her. "She says you're not to get tired, Doctor's orders. Just nod for 'yes', shake the head for 'no' - ok?"
Rion nodded then shook her head. With her finger she spelt out 'J' in the air.
"Jake?"
Rion nodded.
"He knows you're ok. He'll be in when he can but he's working late all week." Ollie stroked Rion's hand. "I have a surprise for you." He stood up, smiled, and retrieved something from the confines of his wallet. Ollie carefully smoothed out the creased piece of paper before asking, "Where shall I put it?"
When there was no answer he turned round to find Rion, her head lolled to one side, her eyes closed, deeply asleep.
Ollie put the cutting of Blondin on top of the magazines and tiptoed from the room.

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