Placenta Springs National Park

Today we live in the world of the tea bag rather than that of loose tea which renders the saucer largely useless save for those who rest their digestive biscuits on the side. I know what I am and I am not one of those types. Japan's national earthquake alert system, the sound of china wobbling on china was enough to wake me and my terror was magnified as Mrs Williams' bow legged gait stuttered across my bedroom in her transparent night dress. The erotic memory of last nights dream were napalmed instantly from my mind.

"What are you doing? What time is it?"

"Almost seven-thirty. I thought you might want a cup of tea dear."

"Why would you think that, I don't even begin to think until ten-thirty?"

"You have to get up dear."

"Why do I have to get up?"

"Because you have to get ready." This was getting tedious.

"For what?" I sighed.

"You're going to a party." My eyebrows raised. I'd just been to a perfectly good party. Mrs Williams handed me a piece of stiff card. It had embossed writing on it like a wedding invitation.

"Glenys, this isn't until later tonight."

"I know but there is something else. I'm moving back home."

This was great news. I put the card to one side and called the gang as soon as I dared to ask them if they'd consider helping. In Mike's case, I thought eleven-thirty was pushing it. Beth was there within the hour. Her hair was blue and a bit frizzy nothing like her starring role in my dream.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Beth quizzed me outside my garage as we sorted through Mrs Williams things.

"Sorry, I didn't know I was."

"How come she's moving back? I thought she lost everything."

"Mike did a deal with the bailiff. They filled her house with loads of rubbish furniture and cheap electrical goods and turned on the bath taps upstairs. Fortunately, after Geoff, her husband died, the only thing that she continued to pay was her house insurance."

"Aw, that was nice of him."

"To flood someone's house and risk a bogus claim?"

"You know what I mean."

I opened the main garage door and took a step back. Beth put her hand to her mouth. I seemed to be raising my eyebrows a lot this morning.

“Oh my God!” The garage was piled high with furniture, electrical equipment and white goods

“She’s been at it again. This time using my address and probably with my card. Fantastic.” A car pulled up behind us. It was a taxi.

“Don’t worry, don’t worry, it’s all bought and paid for.” It was Mr Konstantin.

“What? She got you to pay for all this stuff?” said Beth.

“Yes, well,” He coughed, “We are moving in together.” Beth and I looked at each other in disbelief. “Don’t be so surprised, we had a wonderful Christmas together.”

“I know, I heard.” came my reply.

A lot of the stuff had obviously come from Mr Konstantin’s electrical emporium. I was interested to find out what would become of his shop. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that.” Mr Konstantin had a strange look on his face. He struggled for the words. “That shop has been my life and in some ways my death. I hate it, but I’d hate to see it go, turned into some mobile phone shop. What I’m saying is…I’d like you to take it over.” I looked at him through narrowed eyes and remained silent. It was hardly a fairytale offer, I’d been in there. I needed to think about it and the possibilities it presented. “There is just one condition.” Mr Konstantin pointed a bony finger skyward. “You need to find my son.”

We spent the afternoon moving furniture, fitting Mrs Williams’ kitchen and then setting up her enormous audio visual entertainment system in her lounge. I predicted correctly that I would be able to hear Songs of Praise in crystal tones from over the road. Sitting with Beth at my kitchen table, we drank tea from mugs and dropped crumbs everywhere.

“Do you think they’ll be happy?” said Beth.

“They share an interest in all things retail and they both know a lot of dead people, what more could you ask for in a relationship?”

“Someone who doesn’t use newspaper as a toilet mat would be nice.”

“Hey, I know this is late notice, but do you want to go to a party?”

“Where is it?”

“It’s at the club.”

The invitation had something scribbled on the back of it. It took me a while to work out what it said. I passed to Beth. “What’s that say?” She puzzled at it for a few seconds and then turned it over.

“Hope you can make it, I owe you one remember? Ewan Bamber. It’s black tie. You do move in some circles don’t you?”

“Ever decreasing ones I think you’ll find.”

Ewan Bamber, the errant golf professional was the picture of smarm as he welcomed guests into the paint fresh sports bar of the club. No matter how many times they changed the colour of the walls, the membership fees, barely felt worth it. Architecturally, the club was an unfashionable mix of Scottish stone and American forest lodge. The heart of the building was diseased by a modern gymnasium encased in a 1970’s tertiary college folly and you could sense that even the surrounding golf course was wet and brown in all the wrong places. On Ewan’s arm was his wife Julie. Actually I wasn’t sure who was on whose arm but they were accepting gifts like ambassadors from the queue of people up ahead. They were stacked up on a table behind them. We spoke through our teeth and ignored the ubiquitous cigar smoke in the night air. Inside we could see people bustling and self congratulating. There was an ease to this crowd, a group familiarity. I thought of my dream last night and winced.

“They’ve all got gifts.”

“I know.”

“Should we bail?”

“No!”

Eventually Beth and I got to the front and were faced with the Bambers and a rat like dog under Julie’s arm. There were more teeth on display than a museum of dentistry. As we approached Julie reached out a gloved hand.

“Good evening. Thank you for coming. I don’t think we’ve met.” I was certain I’d seen her somewhere recently.

“A friend of Ewan’s.” He looked over as I mentioned his name and looked momentarily nervous.

“Yes darling, this gentleman…” He was tripping.

“I keep an eye on Ewan’s business interests.” I caught him. Beth slipped a hand inside her purse. The dog yelped and flew out of the pearly wife’s arms. Ewan ran off after the mutt and Beth smiled and handed Julie a tiny box, neatly wrapped and freshly lifted off the table behind them. We walked off towards the free bar and the buffet.

“Have I ever told you how much I hate buffets?” It was going to be one of those parties with a lot of whispering and we’d started it.

“No I don’t think you did. Everyone hates buffets.”

“I mean it’s like eating but not eating. You can go to a function with a buffet eat as much as you want, go home and act as if you’ve never even seen a limp chicken goujon.”

“Are these chicken or fish?” Beth held one up?

“That’s my point. I think I hate the cling film the most.”

“Especially when they put it over jugs of fresh orange juice.”

“It’s the fact that thirty people you don’t know have just rummaged through your dinner before you’ve even decided what you want.” We walked away but not before I stole two cocktail sausages.

The party was filling up rapidly. I noticed that Ewan had finally retrieved the furball and was handing him over to one of the waiters who carried it at arms length towards the kitchens. I could only hope.

“So what’s the plan?”

“I think we need to move now before we are missed. We can drink their booze later.”

“Agreed.”

We were off in search of a man called Rocker.