Hum’s excited barking broke into Ollie’s thoughts. He turned round to see the dog frantically pawing the side of a barge.
“Hum!” he called but as usual the hound was intent on doing his own thing. Ollie jogged back to find a rather frumpy couple coming up on deck. “Sorry,” he said dragging Hum away.
“Is the door closed Ted?” the woman asked.
“Yes Mary,” her companion replied.
The woman smiled sweetly at Ollie, “We have cats you see.”
Ollie clipped Hum to the lead. He carried on the short way to the Canal Café before turning round and heading back the way he came. He was glad Hum was on the lead for the dog went berserk as they passed the Longfelloe. This time the couple had been joined by someone else. Upon seeing Ollie the vaguely familiar looking man, wearing an old- fashioned Trilby, returned below decks.
“He doesn’t normally mind cats,” Ollie gasped as he passed them.
The couple smiled and waved. When Ollie was out of hearing range their manner changed. “That must never be allowed to happen again,” Mary said angrily.
“We’ll move her tonight,” Gorby removed his hat and lightly drummed his fingers against his birthmark. “I’ve rostered everyone off. We won’t be disturbed.”
“Make sure we’re not,” Ted said curtly.
“But in any case I’ll dose her up. She won’t be giving us any trouble.”
Ollie jogged slowly into the mews with Hum trotting at his heels.
“Good boy!”
The dog smiled up at him, his mischievous eyes shining behind his fringe.
“He’s so much better isn’t he?” Auntie Em called from the middle of the mews where she was loading the spacious old Citroen with a blanket and some baskets. She went to examine Hum. His cuts had almost healed, the bruising almost gone. The only sign of the vicious onslaught were several bald patches where assorted beaks had ripped the fur from his body. “We’re going blackberrying on Wormwood. Care to join us?”
“Hum would I’m sure Auntie Em. I’d love to but Johnson’s coming round for the TQ lunch – do you think Rion might like to go?”
“Are females allowed?”
“Of course they are – as guests. I’d like to get her together with Johnson. He’s been muttering something about needing an assistant for this Glamourista column he’s doing.”
“Well, she could do that, couldn’t she?”
“As long as Johnson doesn’t bully her too much, but he seemed to like Rion from Nicky’s shoot last week.”
“It’ll be much better her working for Johnson rather than for Glamourista directly. All she’d do there is make coffee and get trampled on all day.”
“Can she handle Johnson though?”
“I think you’ll find Rion can handle most things. Johnson and a TQ lunch will be a breeze.”
“Is she up yet?” asked Ollie.
Auntie Gem, Sunday papers in hand, joined Emma by the car. “Let her sleep in. She probably needs it!” Gem winked at Ollie who knew how Nicky, like himself, needed little encouraging to party on a Friday night. Ollie wondered where Nicky had taken the young girl.
“I’ve put a map through her door saying where we’ll be.”
“At the magic bush at the top of the Scrubs?”
There was one particular blackberry bush on Wormwood Scrubs that, like some plant of myth and legend, could be stripped of fruit one day only for the next its brambles to be full of the sweet juicy berries. It also stayed in fruit much later than the others due, some said, to it being situated above an ancient spring that warmed its roots.
“Where else?” Auntie Em bent down to stroke the dog. “Hum seems to be on the mend sweetness.” She straightened up to look him level in the eye, “What about you?”
“I’m ok,” Ollie answered honestly.
Auntie Em looked at Gemma, “Shall we tell him?”
“You can’t say something like that in front of some one,” Ollie protested, “unless you are going to tell them.”
Auntie Gem took a deep breath. “Tell him,” she said.
When they had finished the story about Candida, about Wayne, about the real and the fake Merlijnche de Poortje, about everything except how Nicky had nearly ruined it all – that could wait for a later date – Ollie just smiled. “You know, I thought I’d be more cut up about Wayne but I’m not and that,” Ollie paused for a second to think through his words, “makes me feel surprised and pleased.”
Auntie Gem put her arm around him. “It makes us feel surprised and pleased too child.”
“Maybe I’m growing up eh?”
“Maybe,” Auntie Em planted a gentle kiss on his cheek, “but aren’t you going to ask if it’s true?”
“Oh, I know it’s true. You know how?”
Gem ‘n Em shook their heads.
“Well, there were several things I was being wilfully blind to but I saw a number on his mobile. At the time I wasn’t sure whose it was but now, well there’s no doubt it was Candida’s,” Ollie smiled. “Basically he was a hired gun wasn’t he?”
Auntie Em nodded, “More like a sex pistol I’d say sweetness.”
“Just how much do you remember of Friday night?” Johnson asked Ollie.
They were in the middle of a group of twelve gay men seated around a table in the basement of the Hungry Hearts Diner. The restaurant on Kensington Park Road was the venue for the Tragedy Queen of the Week club to decide who, amongst them, had had the most pitiful week and so was worthy of the title. Johnson had been begging Ollie to take him for ages.
“Not much. The normal really, rampaging through Soho, a couple of e’s….”
“How Essex,” Simon sniffed from opposite.
“...clubbing at Popstarz,” Ollie continued. “Then afterhours at some dive south of the river before staggering back here and going to bed yesterday afternoon.”
“The only tragic thing about that,” Johnson sighed, “is that I can’t do it anymore.”
“And StJohn didn’t pop up at any time?” Lyle asked from the far end of the table.
The mere mention of the name was still enough to make Ollie furious and sad at the same time. He did have a fleeting memory of StJohn’s loathsome face looming out of the blur of the evening. Ollie wasn’t sure if this could be classified under reality or false-memory-induced-by-hallucinogenic-drugs syndrome. Ollie managed to rein in his feelings before answering Lyle. “I can’t really remember too much, I was trying to put things in place on my run – ”
“You run?” Peter squealed from his place beside Simon. “God, how butch!”
“Don’t knock it – jogging tightens up everything,” Murray said. “I tried it once but,” he dismissed the subject with a flutter of his hands, “it was too much effort.”
“Does wonders for your calves though.”
“Yes,” Johnson agreed, “but it’s easier to get implants.” He was enjoying himself immensely. “I know the most – ”
They were stopped by a rap on the table.
“Boys, be quiet,” Tim commanded. The banker was chairman for the week and had been running a tight ship. “It’s Ollie’s turn.”
“I bet StJohn remembers,” Lyle continued. “Afterall a fist in the face is pretty hard to forget.”
Peter nudged Alan. “I told you he’s butch,” he whispered.
“So what if I did hit him?”
“There’s no what ifs about it Ollie. He has the shiner to prove it.”
“He’s lucky it wasn’t worse then isn’t he?”
Murray looked questioningly at Johnson who whispered behind his hand, “StJohn was driving the car in which James died.”
Lyle leant forward on his elbows. “He says if you ever go near him again – ”
“Don’t tell me what he says. If StJohn wants to say anything he can tell me to my face.”
Although normally thriving on any sort of drama the table had hushed to a rather threatening silence. Again Tim took control. “Well,” the chairman cle
ared his throat, “I don’t think having a night out in Soho – even if you did descend into Essex type drugs – ”
“It must have been Wayne’s influence – he was from Dagenham you know,” Johnson threw in.
“ – counts as anything tragic,” Tim continued. “And whilst having a handsome hunk ditch you – ”
“And rip you off,” Ollie pointed out.
“ – merits a couple of points it’s nothing that hasn’t happened to several of us – ”
Even though it was Johnson’s first TQ lunch he threw himself into the proceedings with all the ease of a founder member. “You should be so lucky!”
“Lucky, lucky, lucky,” Alan sang in imitation of Kylie.
“Wayne was,” Johnson continued, “I hate to use the term but nothing else will suffice – drop dead gorgeous and sure, it might be seen by some that to have someone paid to seduce you – ”
Ollie had a feeling that wouldn’t go unnoticed.
“Wait!” Peter called from the end of the table. “Did you say ‘having someone paid to seduce you’?”
Johnson nodded.
“Well, that’s pretty tragic and should get a couple of extra points – Tim?” Peter looked to the chairman.
“You should be so tragic!” Johnson interrupted.
“Tragic, tragic, tragic,” several voices chimed before subsiding into giggles.
“If any of you,” Johnson gestured around the table, “had seen this guy you would have been throwing money at him to get him to even smile at you. It wasn’t like Ollie was paying him.”
“Still a couple of extra points are due for the novel twist,” Tim confirmed.
“Did he say he loved you?”
“No.”
“So what’s the harm?”
“It just sounds like uncomplicated, no-strings-attached adult sex.”
“Does anyone remember such a thing?”
“Is there such a thing?”
“Johnson was right,” Murray finished off his glass and poured another all in one fluid motion. “The tragedy is it didn’t happen to any of us.”
Alan couldn’t see what all the fuss was about. “It just sounds like an early Christmas present to me, a stocking filler perhaps,” he said raising his glass to Ollie.
An early Christmas present? Ollie smiled. That’s how he would choose to see Wayne.
The final vote was decided over coffee and brandies.
“I’m so glad cigars are not an option these days,” Ollie sniffed his Cognac. “I loathe the things.”
“Me too,” Johnson said. “If I’m going to put an eight inch Cuban in my mouth it’s not for smoking – you know what I’m saying?”
“I hear you!” Murray, smiling flirtatiously, moved closer to Johnson.
“He said an eight inch Cuban not a one inch Scot, Murray,” Jason hissed from Ollie’s left.
The chairman rapped on the table. “I’ve tallied up.”
Talking immediately ceased. All eyes were on Tim.
“Whilst Alan scores for being mistaken for Prince Edward and Murray scores for being thrown out of the Met Bar after being sick over Tracey and Kate….”
“It was only over their shoes!” Murray exclaimed, giving Johnson’s leg a quick squeeze under the table.
“Lyle doesn’t score for having his best friend punched by another member here.”
All eyes looked at Ollie.
“That’s really vicarious tragedy and doesn’t count. I get some marks for booking a massage and only getting a massage – ”
“Shall we get out of here?” Johnson whispered to Murray who nodded enthusiastically. The lifestyle enhancer took out his black American Express card and flashed it at the waiter. The gesture didn’t go unnoticed by Tim.
“But the rest of you: whilst it might have been upsetting to have ugly builders re-doing your wetroom – ”
“They were a fright, all the neighbours could see,” Peter piped up opposite Ollie.
“ – and being clamped is no doubt a pain it doesn’t come under the heading of ‘tragedy’, Ollie scores for having his dog being beaten up by some geese and other aspects of his situation have certain merits but, on balance, the tragedy queen for this week for having cruised his own father is – ”
Before the chairman could finish Johnson again flashed his black American Express card in the air.
“Sorry, was going to be Jason,” Tim corrected himself. “We have a new winner, a late entrant,” Tim grabbed Johnson’s credit card and waved it at the others. The sight of the black card elicited a few ‘Ooohs’ and knowing smiles. “The winner on account of having a black American Express card, and therefore having to pay for everyone’s lunch, is our newcomer – Johnson Ogle!”
Tim sat down to much applause.
“But I – ” Johnson glared accusingly at Ollie. “You should have told me!”
“Then I wouldn’t have had a free lunch.”
Johnson then looked at Murray who threw up his hands. “Nor me.”
Johnson pretended to be hurt but secretly was rather pleased. In his world any attention was better than being ignored, any prize better than nothing.
Ollie came back to the mews to find Auntie Em outside his house. In one hand she held a tray on which were three small bowls covered with clingfilm. With the other she knocked on his door.
Ollie ran up and took the precariously wobbling tray from her, “Here let me.”
“I was just going to put these in your fridge,” Auntie Em said taking one of the bowls from the tray.
“Good day?” he asked.
“Wonderful angel although,” Auntie Em gestured to the bowls that were filled with blackberries, “these will be the last I fear.”
She left a bowl on Ollie’s doorstep before crossing to the house opposite. Nicky’s door opened after a single knock.
“For you sweetness,” Auntie Em handed her offering to the photographer.
“Mmmmm!”
“There’s something rather satisfying about picking your own food isn’t there?”
“The old hunter/gatherer instinct?” Ollie wasn’t so sure. “I think it would pall if you had to do it everyday.”
“I’m quite happy with the exchange system – you know, ‘I give you money you give me what I want’,” Nicky said.
“I’m not talking about the basics, – pulling up potatoes, cropping cabbages – ”
“You don’t like cabbage Auntie Em.”
“ – harvesting beans – ”
“Or beans,” Ollie reminded her.
“Work with me here angel,” she paused. “But the yummy stuff, picking berries, finding scallops on the beach, fishing for salmon. That I would find rewarding you know?”
“Perhaps,” Ollie said half-heartedly.
“Still the ideal is having Mr Christians deliver isn’t it?”
“You’re not wrong there.” Nicky looked at the single remaining bowl on the tray, “Is that for Rion?”
“It would be greedy to have two sweetness.”
“No, I mean is she in?”
Auntie Em looked at Ollie who shrugged his shoulders. “There was no answer when I knocked at about one o’ clock,” he said.
“I knocked yesterday afternoon but she must have been out,” Nicky said.
“She would have been sleeping it off after her night out with our boy here.”
Puzzled by the remark Ollie looked at Auntie Em. “She wasn’t out with me. I haven’t seen her since Friday night,” he went on. “I left her waiting for Nicky at Primrose Hill.”
“But you didn’t go back did you sweetness?”
“You know I didn’t Auntie Em,” Nicky replied.
Emma looked worried. “So you both haven’t seen her since Friday night?”
“No,” they said in unison.
Ollie ran over to the door of lA at the entrance to the mews. “Rion!” he shouted before giving the front door three sharp knocks.
When there was no reply Auntie Em took
the spare key from the large metal key chain and let herself in.
“Rion?” she called up, “it’s only us.” Followed by Ollie and Nicky she went up the stairs into the empty sitting room. Everything looked untouched since Friday. The door to the bedroom was closed. “Rion?” she called again cheerily. Auntie Em put the bowl of blackberries in the fridge before approaching the closed bedroom door. “Rion?”
Ollie and Nicky hung back as Emma knocked on the door then entered. The bedroom was as empty as the rest of the house.
“It doesn’t look like the bed’s been slept in,” Nicky said.
“Where else could she be?” Auntie Em wondered.
Ollie looked around the small room, “I know she had plans to visit Jake yesterday.”
“Let’s see if she turned up. If not – ” Auntie Em didn’t allow herself to think of what might have happened. “Let’s cross that bridge when we come to it shall we?” she said hastily.
Ollie immediately went outside to phone St Mary’s. When he came back up his face said it all. “We’re going to have to cross that bridge Auntie Em,” he said. “She never showed up yesterday.”
Rion felt dreadful. She had a splitting headache and was chilled to the bone. She thought twice about opening her eyes not knowing what she’d find before them. So many times she’d awoken recently to find the oddest things going on. People approaching her, stroking her hair and saying, “She’s perfect, just perfect.”
She could remember walking with Gorby down the canal after the fireworks and then waking up restrained on a boat, she had some dim memory of seeing Hum’s face at the porthole, of some peculiar long swords, of being taken on the boat somewhere at night, hurried through darkness, the whistle of a train – and now where was she?
It had all seemed like a dream yet she had felt very much awake throughout – very much awake but unable to talk, unable to move.
She remembered repeatedly trying to pinch herself yet found she couldn’t. However now she tried and could definitely feel her fingers on the top of her wrist. What’s more her hands weren’t restrained and, she moved her legs, nor were her feet.
Maybe it had all been a dream. Maybe this time when she opened her eyes she would find herself with her new family in Meanwhile Gardens Mews. She would be lying on her bed with the window wide open – that must be why she was so cold.
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