Meanwhile Gardens (36 page)

Diana smiled down at her from a huge variety of photographs. Gem could feel the warmth radiating from the Princess of Wales. Just kneeling there made her feel so much calmer.

The old lady offered up her problem to the Queen of Hearts along with a prayer for guidance. Feeling comforted she moved to her bed, switched the electric blanket off and snuggled under the covers.

Her dilemma was now out of her hands. All that was left to do was wait.

The answer came the following morning. It was clear and precise, leaving no room for doubt.

Before Gemma left for work she consulted her oracle. She knelt once more on the cushion in front of the shrine, in her hands the collector’s edition magazine that celebrated Diana’s life. Gem closed her eyes, letting the pages of the glossy magazine flutter back and forth through her fingers. After a while – it could have been a few seconds, it could have been a minute or longer – she heard the internal voice. At that instant she stopped the pages, her thumb coming to rest on the preordained image.

What photo would it be? What message would it give?

Gem slowly opened her eyes and looked down. When she saw what had been chosen she knew immediately her plan had been approved. The image the oracle had sent was one from early in Diana’s life. It showed the young Lady Di, not a princess yet, with Prince Charles at Balmoral. The teenage girl grinned shyly whilst her husband to be stood waist-deep in a river…..fishing.

FISHING!

As clear a message as any. If her thumb had alighted on the one where the Princess, dressed in black, was leaving Klosters for her father’s funeral that would have been a clear sign that Gem mustn’t take her plan further; or if it had been one on that unhappy trip to Korea, with the Princess looking upset and tearful, that would also have stopped Gem in her tracks, but this one with Diana shyly grinning at the camera whilst Charles
fished
meant that she could now proceed with a clear heart.

Going into the kitchen Gem retrieved the plastic bag from the freezer. She left for Peters & Peters, her conscience now clear about what she was going to do.

Nicky and Auntie Em sat in the house at the end. Both were worried. Ollie hadn’t been seen now for more than thirty-six hours.

“He would have told us if he was going away.” Nicky looked at the hound lying dejected by the fire, “He certainly wouldn’t have left Hum alone.”

“Yes,” Auntie Em sighed. “It’s time to take action.” She leaned over and held Nicky’s hand, “You do realise whatever we do it’s going to be unpleasant.”

Nicky nodded.

“We’ll have to phone the police – the hospitals – ”

“ – the morgue,” Nicky felt tears prick her eyes. She wiped them away and froze. “Oh Auntie Em!” Nicky nervously pointed out the window.

Emma followed her gaze to see a uniformed policeman walking slowly down the mews.

They hurried out of the house, Hum at their heels.

“Do you know an Oliver Michaelson?” asked the young copper.

“Yes,” Auntie Em replied. Her unease was compounded by the gravity of the policeman’s demeanour.

“Are you his next of kin?”

“As good as.”

Nicky tried to control her mounting hysteria. “What’s happened?”

“I have some bad news I’m afraid.”

“What’s happened?” Nicky shrieked.

“There’s never an easy way to do this,” the policeman continued.

“Oh God, oh God, oh God,” Nicky moaned whilst Auntie Em visibly blanched.

The policeman walked back up the way he came and signalled outside. Seconds later an ambulance rumbled into the mews and stopped behind him.

The driver hopped down, “We cleaned him up a bit.” He went to the back of the ambulance and opened the doors, “He was a real mess when he came in.”

Nicky nervously peered round to see a dishevelled figure on a bench, a blanket around his shoulders. “Ollie?” she went to help him down. “What’s going on? Are you ok?”

Hum gave a joyous bark upon seeing his master.

“You can confirm his identity?” the policeman asked.

“Oliver Guy Michaelson,” Auntie Em stroked Ollie’s hair. “How did he – where did you pick him up?”

“He was found wandering along the M4 in a somewhat disorientated state,” the policeman looked at his notebook, “yesterday midmorning.”

“Suffering from concussion. We wanted to keep him in but he insisted on discharging himself.” The ambulance driver slammed the doors shut. “We can’t be held responsible.”

“Says the last thing he remembers is being in a nightclub called,” the policeman again checked his notes, before clearing his throat “ – ‘L’Enfers’?”

“L’Enfers?” Nicky repeated. The afterhours club, a favourite amongst insomniacs and those of a chemical persuasion, was famed for its ferocity.

“I couldn’t sleep,” Ollie mumbled.

“And when you can’t sleep go dancing right?” Nicky hugged her friend, “Oh Ollie.”

The policeman approached. “I take it I can release him to your care?”

“Of course officer,” Auntie Em signed the proffered form. “And thank you.”

They watched as the ambulance reversed out of the mews.

“Bath and sleep is all I need,” Ollie said in response to the concerned looks. He patted his pockets but there was no familiar jangling.

“You have a key sweetness?” Auntie Em asked Nicky. “It seems our boy has mislaid his.”

Ollie shrugged his shoulders. “Although where I couldn’t possibly tell you.”

As soon as Nicky let them in Auntie Em marched up the stairs. The first thing she did was put on the kettle. “You’ll have tea?”

“Try and stop me,” Ollie slumped on the sofa. Hum jumped up beside him and covered him protectively with his paws.

“You weren’t at L’Enfers were you?” Nicky called through
from the bathroom. She added an extra dash of bubble bath to the clawed tub before turning the taps on full.

“No.”

“Why didn’t you tell us you were in hospital? We’ve been worried sick.”

“I couldn’t even have told you my name until this morning.”

Auntie Em looked at Ollie for a long while. “I’ve seen you in worse states I must say.” She placed the tea tray on the table. “Perhaps you’ll tell me about it later,” Auntie Em kissed him on the forehead. Before she left she beckoned Nicky over, “Put him to bed after this,” she ordered. “Don’t let him out of your sight.”

Ollie shuffled through to the bathroom. He slowly pulled off his dirty clothes and eased himself into the foaming bubbles. “You’ve no idea how good this feels.”

Nicky waited a few moments but couldn’t stay silent much longer. She brought his tea through and sat on the edge of the tub. “What on earth were you doing on the M4?”

Ollie stretched through his body. He aimed to fit his big toe in the tap before thinking better of it.

“It’ll get stuck,” Nicky warned.

“Probably.” Ollie luxuriated in the hot water. He put a generous dollop of shampoo on his hands and began washing his hair.

“The M4?” Nicky prompted.

“I have no idea. Absolutely no idea. The last thing I remember was going into the cemetery. I couldn’t sleep, I kept on thinking about the people in that vault – maybe one of them
was
Rion. My mind was just spinning out Nicks. I had to go.” Ollie slipped beneath the water to rinse his hair. He stayed under for what seemed an inordinately long time before slowly surfacing.

“But the M4 Ol – what’s that about?”

“This is all I know,” he guided Nicky’s hand to a point on his skull above his left ear. Beneath his hair matted wet Nicky could feel a lump the size of a duck egg. “Lucky I’m thick-skulled I guess.”

“And you can’t remember anything after the cemetery?”

“Nope.”

“PC Plod was a mite peeved you didn’t show yesterday.”

“It wasn’t on purpose believe me.”

“There was nothing in the vault of course, and no sign of the creepy guard, but it was interesting. The couple in charge – ” Nicky cleared her throat, “ – the polite word for them would be eccentric I guess. They were almost made of tweed and their office – ! figures of Morris Dancers
everywhere.
”

The recent drama had caused Nicky to overlook the most important part. She quickly filled him in on Jake, Rion’s cutting and the theory about a barge.

Ollie wracked his brain: a tweedy couple, figures of dancers and a boat.

“Come on,” Ollie got out of the bath and began drying himself. “I’ve an idea.”

Nicky wasn’t happy. “But I promised Auntie Em – ”

“We’ll be back before she will.”

“Are you sure you’re ok?”

“Like I said, nothing a bath and a sleep won’t fix,” Ollie gave what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “I’ve had the bath, I’ll sleep later.”

Nicky still wasn’t convinced.

“C’mon Nicks, I’ll take the blame.”

Within minutes they were in Little Venice. Ollie hurried down the towpath until he was opposite Jason’s Restaurant. “It was here I’m sure,” he said but his heart sunk as soon as he saw the barges moored along the canal.

They all looked the same.

Although individually painted their bright colours created a uniformity that made them difficult to tell apart. What made it worse was that all the couples looked similar to each other. There was also a preponderance of tweed and a surfeit of dancing figures woven into the names of the barges.

“I’m sorry Nicks. I made a mistake.”

“The mind playing tricks?”

Ollie kicked the fence in anger. “All the fucking time.”

It was as if the first floor hadn’t heard the apparently good news. The open plan office was silent apart from a jaunty whistling that came from behind Sir Edwin’s door. The staff noticeably relaxed when the whistling stopped only to tense up when the jolly tune started once more.

“It’s worse when he’s happy isn’t it?” Miss Collins cringed as the whistling increased in volume.

“Anyone with him?” Gemma asked as her trolley squeaked towards her boss’ office.

“Just Mr Paul. He’s been in there much longer than usual.” The PA pressed a buzzer on the desk in front of her, “Gemma’s here with your lunch Sir Edwin.”

Hardly had she finished speaking when the office door was thrown open. Sir Edwin stood there smiling, his arms open wide. “Gemma!” he boomed, his bearlike embrace causing the tealady to gasp.

“Stop it,” Gem swatted her boss on the shoulder. She adjusted her tunic as he ushered her into his office.

The assistant manager sat on the sofa smoking an enormous cigar and looking slightly ill. “Gem,” he acknowledged as they exchanged nods.

As soon as the door was closed Sir Edwin took the trolley and wheeled it towards his desk, “What are you going to do with your Christmas bonus Gem?”

The tealady managed to deflect her boss’ fingers that were about to tickle her ribs.

“Paul here is developing a taste for Cuban cigars,” Sir Edwin slapped his assistant manager on the back. “Aren’t you Paul?”

Mr Paul coughed out a mouthful of smoke. He tried to say something but choked before a sentence could be formed.

The chairman of Peters & Peters continued, “He might be spending his bonus on a trip to Havana eh?”

The assistant manager dodged another slap on the back.

“Show Gem what you’ve done,” Sir Edwin smiled at Gemma. “He’s a genius Gem.”

The young man gave another cough before stubbing out his cigar in the ashtray. He picked up a poster from the coffee table in front of him and held it up for Gem to see. Mr Paul gestured to the poster and tried to speak but the effort brought on another coughing fit.

Sir Edwin smiled indulgently. “I’ll explain shall I?”

Mr Paul gratefully nodded.

“We’re putting these up along the canal.”

Gemma squinted at the posters. Knowing how much her boss liked the sound of his own voice she pretended she couldn’t see the lettering that, in reality, was perfectly clear to her. “You’ll have to read it for me Sir Ed-win.”

Her boss needed no prompting. “‘Danger!’” he read out loud. “‘Blue green algae alert. Organic toxin. Do not drink. Contact can be dangerous to humans and animals.’” He beamed at Gemma, “This is the best part.” Sir Edwin pointed to a section that was in red. It was also in much larger lettering than the first. “‘This announcement paid for by Peters &
Peters as part of its – ’” Sir Edwin took a theatrical intake of breath, “‘Conservation Research Advisory Programme.’” He looked at Gemma, “What do you think?”