Meanwhile Gardens (17 page)

“Aren’t you going to let him off?” Rion asked.

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?” Jake asked.

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, with its driftwood, rugs and spyhole to check out visitors.

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 aloud the inscription on the plain grave that was almost exaggerated in its austerity; “‘George Cruickshank – For thirty 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.

“Don’t worry, this isn’t skunk, it won’t knock you out for twentyfour hours.”

Ollie dismissed his concern with a wave of the hand, “I really get into cleaning when I’m stoned.”

Rion sighed in disgust.

“What’s going on at that house anyway?” she asked. “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 fevers can boomerang back – you don’t want that 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 lots of homegrown,” Ollie admitted but realised that probably wasn’t very helpful.

“Which muddles your memory doesn’t it?” said Rion 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 Glamourista 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?”

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 Glamourista flicked a speck of dirt off her turquoise pumps. She shivered 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.

O
n the previous Saturday’s trawl through the market Nicky had picked up a battered copy of
The Guide to Feng-Shu
i for a pound, but now she 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 north east 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 Nicky 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,” said Ollie as he 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 up the stairs 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,” said Nicky 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 Tate Britain, 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 and needs a wash?” 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 or all points in between.”

“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!”

Ollie gave Nicky a big kiss on the cheek and ran out of the room.

“Phone me later,” she called after him, but her friend was already down the stairs and out the door.

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 ‘Guide’s index 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 few 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 a bit 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 Glamourista.”

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.”

“Glamourista 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 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 consciousness 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. 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.”