Meanwhile Gardens Page 14

  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.”

  “Do you trust him though?”

  “To do some simple building work? Probably. He doesn’t seem too much of a cowboy. His work’s ok isn’t it?”

  “Yes, but – ”

  “But with secrets, something important?” Nicky shook her head, “Probably not.”

  “I don’t trust him Nicky. I just don’t trust him. He was in Ollie’s for ages on Monday.”

  “Apparently he couldn’t work the kettle so had to boil up some water.”

  “Kettles aren’t that difficult to operate are they angel?”

  “Well Ollie’s kettle is a bit odd Auntie Em, you know there’s that button underneath – ”

  Auntie Em gave a snort of disbelief.

  “I have to admit I thought the same thing,” Nicky agreed. “And then Ollie said Wayne got sidetracked by his art books. Apparently Wayne’s a bit of a gallery gazer.”

  “So he felt it was ok to rifle through Ollie’s belongings?”

  “I don’t know if it was quite like that.”

  It was all starting to make sense to Auntie Em.

  “Last night when Kanwar dropped me off – ”

  Nicky couldn’t let that pass unnoticed. “Kanwar?” she repeated.

  “Doctor Gidwani.”

  “How long have you been seeing him?”

  “That’s not the issue here sweetness, suffice to say that a rather touching friendship started up when he was treating Rion, but I’m sure we saw that man – ”

  “Wayne?”

  Auntie Em nodded, “Up at the Gate. It was about midnight. He was talking to someone in a brown Mercedes jeep.”

  Nicky was incredulous, “Candida?”

  “I couldn’t see to be sure but yes, it was a woman.”

  Nicky was about to wisecrack, ‘Then it couldn’t be Candida.’ when she thought better of it. This was all too strange. “But why? Do you think – ”

  “Sweetheart I’m not sure what to think, but – what was Candida trying to get from Ollie?”

  “The miniature?”

  “Yes angel, and when she found he wasn’t going to hand it over?”

  “Ollie’s dreamboy shows up? Auntie Em you don’t really – ”

  “I’m not saying anything sweetness. Just think about it.”

  Nicky didn’t have to think for long.

  She knew Candida was capable of such guile, she knew she was after Merlijnche de Poortje, and what had Ollie said? ‘What Candida wants Candida gets.’

  “What are we going to do?”

  “I have a plan angel, but I’ll need your help.”

  By the time Auntie Em had finished telling Nicky of the ruse the photographer was won over. More importantly she believed Wayne would go for it. Her only concern was for her friend.

  “But what are you going to tell Ollie?”

  Auntie Em sighed, “It’s a difficult one but for the moment nothing. He’s in no danger. Let him have his fun.”

  Nicky wasn’t entirely happy but she knew it was the best way.

  “Besides he’s practically incapable of lying isn’t he?”

  Nicky nodded. Auntie Em was always right.

  15

  LIES DAMN LIES

  Café Feliz was normally quiet at elevenses. The workers had long ago grabbed their espressos and headed for the office while the slackers were still nursing hangovers in bed, leaving the little café with a token presence of mothers with prams, a party of Somalis and some grufflooking Portuguese.

  Clutching their milky coffees in tall glasses, and a custard pastry each, Nicky and Ollie sat at one of the wrought-iron tables outside. The only other people were an elderly couple seated one empty table away but one.

  Ollie inhaled deeply and smiled, “I love this time of year. I love the smell of burning leaves that you get everywhere in the city.”

  “It’s exhaust fumes Ol.”

  “It doesn’t matter where you are – in Camden, Chelsea or darkest Soho,” he took another deep breath, “the smell is so autumnal.”

  “Stop being such a romantic Ol, it’s traffic pollution,” Nicky glared at him. “And I wish you’d wipe that smile off your face, you’ll force me to put my shades on and then I’ll look like part of the fashion pack.”

  Ollie was unable to stop beaming. “But you are part of the fashion pack Nicks.”

  Nicky rummaged around in her bag, “That does it.”

  After a few seconds she pulled out a pair of this year’s very dark owlshaped glasses in tortoiseshell frames. Giving them a quick wipe she plumped them on her nose. Nicky sighed in relief, “Aaaaah….I sometimes wish I could have these surgically attached.”

  “When did you get back last night?”

  “Late enough for there to be no lights on in your house,” Nicky took a sip from her coffee. “I noticed Wayne’s pickup was still parked outside though. Funny, I would have thought lA was still too fumey to sleep in – some of those paints should carry a health warning.”

  “They do Nicks which is why,” Ollie took a deep breath and puffed out his chest, feeling immensely proud all of a sudden, “he’s been staying at mine for the past couple of nights.”

  “But,” the photographer said in mock innocence, “there’s no bed in your spare room is there?”

  Ollie rolled his eyes, “Enough already!”

  “So dish, sweetheart.”

  “Well,” Ollie thought back to the past two wonderful nights. “It started on Tuesday. He asked me if he could have a bath at mine so – ”

  “Good Samaritan that you are you said yes?”

  Ollie shrugged his shoulders, “I could hardly say no could I? Anyway I saw him putting candles round the bath which I thought was kinda sweet.”

  “He put candles round the bath?”

  Ollie nodded. “I’m telling you Nicks, he’s not the philistine you think he is.”

  “Carry on.”

  “So I busi
ed myself in the kitchen.”

  “Right,” Nicky said in a disbelieving voice.

  “Just as I was about to go downstairs and check on something in the studio – ”

  “Yes?” she egged him on.

  “He asked me if I would scrub his back.”

  Nicky almost choked on her coffee. “Scrub his back?! That’s a good one,” she exclaimed loudly.

  The elderly couple two tables away had remained motionless, cups to their lips, since Ollie had started the story.

  “So I did and – well, you know how it is…”

  Nicky wasn’t going to let any details go. “Tell me.”

  Ollie sighed, “Well, I got wet, had to take my shirt off – ”

  “And?”

  Ollie wasn’t dishing. “Use your imagination Nicks.”

  The elderly couple put their cups down in disappointment.

  “You know what the nicest thing was though?”

  “Are you going to tell me or will I have to use my imagination?”

  “After we had splashed around he wrapped me in that big towel and rubbed me dry. It was so – ” Ollie searched for the right word, “ – so – ”

  The elderly couple again had their cups to their lips, poised for any salacious titbit they might later tell their friends.

  “ – so fraternal.”

  Nicky snorted. “With brothers like that who needs incest right?”

  “And then – ”

  “There’s more?”

  “We were feeling hungry.”

  “I bet.”

  “So I phoned up Rotisserie Georges for some chicken and dauphinois.”

  “Mmmmm.”

  “And he went to collect it!”

  “Don’t they deliver though?”

  “Yup but he really wanted to.”

  Nicky remembered what Auntie Em had told her.

  “And this was on Tuesday night?” she queried.

  “Yes.”

  “About midnight?”

  “More or less.”

  Ollie saw Nicky’s face drop.

  “Are you ok Nicks?”

  The photographer smiled weakly. “Sure.”

  A honking of horns alerted them to Wayne’s arrival. The blue pick-up swerved over from the other side of the road and double-parked outside the Portuguese café.

  Wayne, looking striking in worn jeans and ripped t-shirt, jumped out smiling, “I got the paint. Nu-Line had run out but I got it in Queens Park.” He nodded to Nicky, “Hi Nicks.”

  Nicks? The photographer thought to herself – who the hell said he could call her Nicks?

  “So are you going to help me again today?” Wayne winked at Ollie.

  “Ah, how sweet,” Nicky gave Ollie a cheesy grin, “Wayne’s little helper.” As Ollie blushed Nicky asked him, “You haven’t seen Candida have you?” Although Nicky directed the question at Ollie she made sure to look at Wayne to see if there was any reaction to the name.

  There wasn’t.

  “You don’t know any Candidas do you Wayne?” Nicky asked, ignoring Ollie’s confused look. Although her manner was joking she was watching Wayne like a hawk.

  “Don’t get too many of those where I come from Nicks.”

  The photographer again flinched at this unauthorised shortening of her name.

  “I haven’t met a Tara before either,” Wayne continued, “or even a Sophie come to that, my sister called her daughter Caroline though – ”

  As Wayne winked at Nicky she felt a frisson that must be a hundred times stronger in Ollie’s body.

  “ – but I think she was on a bus going down Sloane Street at the time!”

  Either he was very good, Nicky decided, or totally ignorant. For selfish reasons she wanted to think he was totally ignorant – afterall someone couldn’t look like that and be clever could they? Someone couldn’t look like that and fool all of them could they?

  She had the horrible feeling that they could.

  Ollie still looked confused at the way the conversation had gone.

  “Are you coming mate?”

  Crossing the bridge behind Wayne, Ollie could see Aunties Gem ‘n Em with Rion.

  “I’ll be there in a sec,” he replied.

  With that Wayne hopped into the pick-up and screeched over the bridge. What was Nicky asking him about Candida for? He wondered if it was coincidence or did she know something?

  What had started off as a cushy little job was becoming more complicated by the day. In spite of the pay he’d be glad when it was over.

  Before Ollie could find out what Nicky had meant by asking Wayne about Candida, Hum had spotted the approaching trio. The dog knew it was time for his walk along the canal.

  Auntie Em had hardly stopped at the café before she moved on. “Can’t dally,” she kissed Ollie on the cheek and gave a conspiratorial smile to Nicky, “I have to go to the framers.”

  It was time to put the second part of the plan into practise.

  Deciding he could do with the walk Ollie accompanied Auntie Gem, Rion and Hum past the orderly council blocks and down the canal.

  “I read somewhere that a brisk walk is just as good as a jog for burning the calories.”

  Auntie Gem cackled, “You’d better go ahead then.” She put her arm through Rion’s, “We amble don’t we child?”

  “Yes we do!” Rion said happily. “Normally anyway. But today – ”

  Much to Hum’s enjoyment Rion began skipping up and down the towpath. The dog, excited by any sort of activity, jumped at her heels.

  “ – calls for something more!”

  “What are you so happy about?” Ollie asked but Rion just kept skipping up and down, only now she was whistling some tune of unsurpassed chirpiness.

  Auntie Gem linked her arm through Ollie’s, “Hasn’t she told you?”

  “Told me what?”

  As Rion skipped by Ollie tried to grab her but, laughing, the girl jumped out of reach.

  “I’ve got a job!” she called back. “Well,” she corrected herself, “it’s a sort of job.”

  Ollie realised that he hadn’t spoken to Nicky as he had promised. He smacked his hand against his forehead, “Rion I’m sorry. I still haven’t asked – ”

  “But I have!” Slightly out of breath Rion slowed to a walk beside them, “Nicky wants me to be her assistant tomorrow. She said a friend of yours – Johnson Someone-or-other – ”

  “Ogle.”

  “’scuse me?”

  “His name is Johnson Ogle.”

  “Yeah, anyway this Johnson is coming to the studio tomorrow to have his picture taken for – ” Rion stopped, opened both arms wide and gave a fanfare, “Ta-da-da!” She looked questioningly at Ollie and Auntie Gem.

  The old black lady cupped her hand and whispered to Ollie, “I know the answer to this.”

  “For?” Rion asked again.

  Ollie shrugged his shoulders. Neither Johnson nor Nicky had told him anything.

  “Glamourista!” Rion said triumphantly. “And Nicky said she would ask if there was an opening there, and if that didn’t work,” Rion spun round in excitement, “ – she said your friend Johnson is like this – ” the girl crossed her middle finger over her index, “ – with the editor and would put in a good word for me.”

  Ollie felt slightly left out. After all Johnson was his friend and if anyone was going to put in a good word for Rion it should be him.

  “Why didn’t anyone tell me?”

  Rion sighed in great exaggeration as if the answer was painfully obvious.

  Auntie Gem playfully squeezed Ollie’s arm. “The way I’ve heard it if the subject isn’t a certain builder,” she nudged Ollie in the ribs, “you’re not interested.”

  “Now wait a minute,” Ollie began, “that’s unfair.”

  “Is it?” Auntie Gem asked smiling.

  “Yes,” Ollie said crossly. He then remembered Auntie Em’s comment at Café Feliz and Nicky’s pointed remark earlier. “Well,” he conceded, “perhap
s I have been preoccupied with the work at lA.”

  “Is it just the work that’s been occupying your time?” Rion asked.

  Auntie Gem couldn’t suppress her mirth, “Or the worker?”

  Rion and Auntie Gem looked at each other and burst out laughing.

  Ollie put up his hand to stop them, “Ok. Ok,” he felt ganged up on all of a sudden. “So I don’t see people for a couple of days and all of a sudden no-one tells me anything?”

  Auntie Gem put her arm through Ollie’s, “We just miss you that’s all.”

  They carried on walking in silence. Ollie, his feathers ruffled, occupied himself with counting the number of dead fish. It was only when they had passed Sainsburys that he realised he had counted thirty within as many feet.

  Moving closer to the water for a better look he shrunk back by what he saw.

  “Jeez,” he gasped in horror.

  Lining the canal bank below him, out of sight from the towpath, was an unbroken band of dead fish. They were mainly on the small side but Ollie could see there were some larger ones and eels amongst them.

  “There are more and more every day,” Auntie Gem shook her head sadly.

  “You said it’s not unusual,” Rion’s voice had taken on an accusing tone.

  Ollie again allowed Tom Jones a momentary streak through his mind before returning his attention to the horrible sight in front of him.

  “Well,” he hesitated, “the odd one or two isn’t uncommon, but I’ve never seen anything like this.”

  “What could cause it?” Rion asked.

  “It sometimes happens after a long hot spell,” Ollie shrugged his shoulders feebly, “something about oxygen levels in the water.”

  “But it hasn’t been that hot.”

  Rion was right. In a bid to make up for the season-that-never-started the weather had given England a balmy Indian summer. Whilst pleasant it was hardly fish suffocating weather.

  Ollie gestured to a lone fisherman further up the path, “Let’s ask him.”

  “What’s he doing fishing when you can pick them out with your hand?” Rion asked.

  “Something to do with sport,” Ollie said dryly.

  The man sat on a fold-out chair surrounded by the paraphernalia of his hobby. In the grass by his side were a large net, a rest for his long pole, various tupperwares full of wriggling maggots, open tins of feathered flies and a small hamper containing what they could see was a packed lunch.