 
### Terry & Moonflasks

Copyright 2017 Anthony E Miller

Published by Anthony E Miller at Smashwords

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Chapter 1

When he reached the front door Simon Chu pressed the doorbell that played the Westminster chimes but out of tempo. The lights were on but no one came so he remained stood on the doorstep getting wetter and wetter. After some time he continued to get wet. He started to get annoyed. Humphrey had said his wife would be here and would give him the golf clubs but she wasn't. Or so it seemed. If she was in why wasn't she answering the door? Surely she knew he was coming? Had she forgotten? At least the front garden wasn't overlooked. He wouldn't be taken for a burglar. He hoped not anyway. He could see a gap in the front room curtains and he thought it wouldn't do any harm if he was to have a peek.

Inside the house a fat man who he knew from somewhere seemed to be dancing in the middle of the front room for Mrs Ling. She was drinking whisky and soda from an ugly and functional looking tumbler. The fat man was dressed in a dressing gown which was obviously not his own. Simon considered tapping on the window or ringing the bell again but something in his brain restrained him. Through the window he watched the woman. She switched off the music centre and said something. Then the fat man also said something. The woman took the fat man's arm and they left the room together. Simon knew he had seen the fat man before somewhere but could not place him. He racked his brain. It came to him. That was Terry Scott.

Simon almost forgot why he was there. He had to think what to do. How to make the most of this? He thought about his options. And then he knew. He should take photos. They'd have to be worth something. Simon ran down the lawn along the side of the drive being careful not to step on the gravel in case it made too much noise. Fortunately overcast weather made it unlikely that anyone would see him from the house. Vaulting the front gate he ran down the Brighton Road a bit and off into the side street where his car was. He opened the boot. Inside was his bag of materials, sketchpads, paints and the camera he used for taking reference photographs. He checked it over. There were five exposures left and two flash bulbs. Did he want to use flash? It was unlikely there was going to be much natural light. There certainly wouldn't be enough to take anything but a blurry long exposure. He cursed himself for only buying a roll with 12 exposures on even though it was hard to get the right kind of film for his third hand box camera.

Reaching the gate of the Ling's garden again Simon stopped. There was a flash of lightening. Had anyone seen him? There was a boom of thunder. What he was about to do wasn't illegal – at least he thought not. He wasn't sure that it was that immoral either – not that he was a particularly moral person. Indeed what he had originally come to do was far more illegal and immoral than what he was doing now and definitely more important but then again this opportunity may not ever come again. He began to shiver and he wasn't sure it was the cold. He drew his coat closer around him. Some people he knew did what he was about to do all the time – for a living. He had never done it before. When he had gone to the car to get the camera it had seemed simple. However, now he was here it seemed far from simple. Eventually he thought thinking about it wasn't helping anything in any way at all. He passed through the gate and walked back up to the house in the shadow of the hedges and peered through the gap in the front room curtains again. No one was in there. He considered the interior décor of the room and decided it was ugly.

He drew away from the window again and the drab 1930s exterior of the house loomed over him making him feel very small. He looked up. He couldn't see an upstairs window lit up at the front. He considered that an upstairs back window might be the best option. If they had gone anywhere they must be round the back. He went round to the side of the house. He found the back gate. This was locked. He climbed the gate. This gave him splinters in his hands. He sat on the top of it a moment. Then he climbed down into the back garden. Then he thought he shouldn't be doing this. Then he thought there wouldn't be another chance. He walked over the back lawn to view the back of the house better. Lights were indeed on in what he assumed were some of the back bedrooms. He knew he couldn't get up there.

He stepped in something that he felt was squishy. He saw a movement in the corner of his eye. Spinning round he saw a dog darting towards him. He didn't know what breed it was but he knew it had big teeth. It is often said that when we are frightened we can do all kind of things that we previously wouldn't have thought ourselves capable of and indeed in no time at all Simon Chu was on top of a nearby water butt. The dog barked and growled viciously but impotently beneath him. Fortunately no one seemed to hear. Simon considered his situation. Simon considered that the dog was bound to attract someone's attention eventually and that he couldn't stay up on the butt all night waiting to be discovered. The only way out of the situation he could see was to climb the drainpipe. There was a flash of lightening. Fortunately this being an old 1930s house where they built things to last this was a proper old iron drainpipe - None of that new PVC rubbish - so he slung the camera round his neck and soon he was at a first floor window. There was a boom of thunder. He felt very high up now.

On the plus side the dog seemed to have given up or gone quiet and he could get his feet on the window sill. He worked his way along the windowsill using the top gutter to support him and looked for a way in. There didn't seem to be an obvious way in but fortunately he was young and not heavy. There was a flash of lightening. Shortly afterwards there was a boom of thunder. Then it came to him. If the top gutter would support his weight all he had to do was follow it round the side of the building to the fence. The question was would the top gutter support him if he took his feet off the window sill?

He decided that as he was near the downpipe it wouldn't be too dangerous to try. So he took off one foot. Then he took off the other foot. Then he dangled. Then he lifted his feet up to the sill again. Slowly he moved to the middle of the window using the gutter and sill to support him. The curtains were drawn on the window but there was a gap. Simon Chu looked through the gap. It had been worth it. Terry Scott – the Terry Scott – was being very intimate with Emily Ling on what he guessed was a marital bed.

But could he photograph it? He had only two bulbs. Would they notice thunder-less flashes?

Chapter 2

Writers of popular online romantic literature which this manuscript is unlikely to be characterized as are apt in the internet age to be asked by their publishers to categorize their work by "heat level". For example a heat level of 5 may mean the book contains deeply graphic sexual material of the kind that would make D. H. Lawrence blush while a heat level of 1 might mean a bit of mild kissing. If I were asked to put a heat level on this manuscript I would put it at 0 or less. There's not no sexuality at all – that would be zero – but what sex there is I am not going to describe for you in case we go subzero or refrigeration level. To spice it up I could tell you how Terry Scott and Emily Ling engaged in many sexual positions throughout the course of their brief relationship but I doubt you would believe this and it wouldn't ring true given Terry's well documented bad back and neck problems. Don't get me wrong ... They did have full sex and "successfully" but whether it was as pleasurable as it should have been for either of them I cannot say. It is often hard to tell which groans are the result of orgasms and which the result of a bad back and so...

"You did enjoy it though, Terry?" said Emily.

"Yes, of course, I enjoyed it... but er...," said Terry. "It's just my back ...you know? I get ...pains."

Emily kissed him on the head. "You're still naughty though."

Terry smiled. "Thank you," he said.

Terry looked around the room. He was aware this must be the marital bed and felt guilty for being in it.

"Something wrong?" said Emily.

"Nothing," said Terry. "I just feel a bit..."

"...like you shouldn't be doing it here?" asked Emily.

"Well, yes," said Terry, fidgeting. "I mean it is ... your bed, isn't –"

"Oh, don't worry about that."

"Don't worry about it?" said Terry.

He was worried about it. Mr Ling might come back. He didn't want to have to make another escape down a drainpipe from an angry husband. He'd done that before. It could be quite painful. He didn't think his back was up to it anymore.

"Simon won't be back for hours," said Emily. "Don't worry. I've fucked loads of men is his bed."

"Have you?" asked Terry.

"Oh yes," said Emily. "When I'm angry with him... which is a lot of the time. Great thing about these big houses is they have long driveways so they aren't overlooked ... and if someone does come you can usually see them. You're not worried that it was Humphrey knocking on the door are you? He shouldn't be back for a bit."

"A bit?" said Terry.

"I'd say we've got another hour," replied Emily rather too casually.

"Do you want him to find us together?" said Terry.

"I'm not that bothered. Not really. Might serve him right. Seriously though ...no ...I wouldn't do that to you, Terry. You're my big fat baby..."

"You don't like him much do you?" said Terry.

When she'd asked him to take her 'back to her place' he'd just driven her to where she wanted to go. He hadn't worried too much where that was. He hadn't assumed she was single but neither had he assumed she was married. He hadn't cared. Actually now he came to think of it he did know she'd been married but he'd only met her husband once ... or he seemed to think he'd met him once but couldn't put a face to the man. Terry vaguely considered he should ask more questions about who he slept with and why...but only vaguely.

"I used to... before he started hitting me."

"Well, why do you stay with him if ...-?"

"He doesn't do it that often. Anyway we more or less lead separate lives. It kind of works. That is... I probably should trade him in but it's an awful lot of effort getting divorced, isn't it?"

Terry had a flashback to his first marriage. "I can't disagree with that," he said.

"You look nice in that dressing gown," said Emily

"Do I?" said Terry. He took her word for it. "Thanks for lending me the clubs," he added.

"No worries," said Emily. "Seriously," she said. "Don't worry about Humphrey he's working on a big set design at the moment so he's doing lots of extra hours. It's for some potential new soap opera the BBC are planning. A rival to Coronation Street but in the East End. Simon says it's full of the most ghastly scum and depressing plots. They've even gone to the effort of casting a real murderer in the lead. They're spending a tonne of money on it anyway..."

"Are they really?" said Terry.

"Yes, he won't be back for ...-"

From the distance there came the sound of a prophetic slam and a voice...

"Hello, I'm home, darling!"

Chapter 3

Terry scanned the room desperately. The house was so bizarrely decorated that there wasn't even a fitted or un-fitted wardrobe to hide in. He hastily pulled his clothes on best he could in no time. Fortunately the house was quite big so there were a lot of stairs for his latest nemesis to ascend before... He was trapped.

Then he saw the window.

"You can't go out that way," protested Emily. "It's too high."

"Ha ha," said Terry who already had the window open. "Drain pipe ...there ... one of those old ones too." He yanked at the guttering to test its firmness. It seemed firm. "Don't worry, I've done stunt work when I was younger ... I'll be fine," he said and with that he hoisted his big frame through the small window frame.

Despite her protestations Emily shut the window behind him with some enthusiasm. Terry smiled at her from the other side. Emily drew the curtain with some enthusiasm. Terry hung from the guttering with his feet on the sill. He reached for the nearby drainpipe.

Terry had of course lied. He was not and had never been a stunt man. He'd hardly ever been even to the local swimming pool and his dislike of exercising in public had grown with the years in equal proportion to his expanding waistline and public profile. Still he'd seen stunt men doing this sort of thing and ... It surely couldn't be that hard. And he had had previous experience of escaping from angry husbands before if not down drainpipes.

Suddenly he became self conscious. What if someone saw him?

To his horror he futher realised he was thinking this because someone could. A young Chinese looking man in a rain sodden parka was hanging not 8 feet from him in mid air- one foot on the other end of the window sill and both hands on the overflowing guttering. Terry was about to ask him what he was doing there when he felt it was a stupid question as the man might equally ask him what he was doing suspended from a piece of guttering next to the first floor window of a large 1930s detached house in Purley. After searching for something to say for quite a while Terry eventually managed "How do you do?"

This opening gambit seemed to go nowhere. Never-the-less he was about to expand his lines of enquiry when the camera around the Chinese man's neck caught his gaze and the answer to his next unspoken question became obvious to him. This must be a paparazzi. If Terry had not already been in a state of panic he would have gone into a state of panic. He searched his mind for something to say other than "What are you doing here?" to which he knew the answer.

"Long way down, isn't it?" said Terry.

"Yes," said his Chinese acquaintance.

"Good job someone put a drainpipe here," said Terry.

"You can't get down that way," said the man.

"Why not?" asked Terry.

"Dog," said the paparazzi man.

Terry was beginning to feel that adversity was bringing him and this media parasite together. "Well, how do we get down?" he said.

There was another flash of lightening.

"This way," said the Chinese man over a roll of thunder. Then he turned his back on Terry and shuffled the rest of the way along the window ledge using the gutter for support. Then the man let his legs hang down. Then he let go with one arm. Then he swung his body and then grabbed the gutter with the free arm again. He had moved forward about one foot. He repeated with the other arm. He repeated and repeated these actions till he reached the next window ledge. Eventually he got his feet up to the next sill again. Terry imagined the man's arms must be full of lactic acid. The man waited a few moments and then started edging along this next window using the sill and the gutter. Then he let his legs down again and started to swing along the gutter again until... he disappeared round the side of the house.

Terry stayed attached to the downpipe. Terry knew he couldn't make his escape by the route the Chinese man had taken even if he was 30 years younger. Terry considered knocking on the window but didn't fancy what might possibly turn into a physical fight with Mr Ling. Terry considered going down the downpipe but he could hear a faint growling beneath him. Terry's back was hurting him. Terry was just considering that he might be stuck up there all night or until his arms gave way when the next decision was taken for him by physics. The gutter brackets were struggling with his substantial. Terry could see them slowly pulling out of the wall. He realised there was nothing for it he had to take on the dog. Terry scrambled down the downpipe with the growls of the dog getting angrier and louder as he did. Before he could reach the ground the pipe suddenly came away from the wall entirely and collapsed to earth sideways.

By some bizarre fluke Terry managed to land on his feet on the top of a water butt. There was a flash of lightening. Unfortunately the water butt that had so easily supported the weight of young Simon Chu did not so easily support the weight of the overweight Terry Scott so the lid cracked and before he knew it Terry had fallen into it. There was a clap of thunder. Terry considered his situation.

While falling into the butt of water was humiliating and although he was very wet he was at least safe in the water butt. The dog – who's breed he was uncertain of but who's teeth he was certain were very sharp – couldn't get at him. How, thought Terry, do you fight off a dog inside a water butt? Then a brainwave came upon him. He could use the section of the downpipe nearest him which was leaning against the butt .Grabbing this broken section with both hands he used it to whack the dog quite hard.

The dog ran away with a whimper – its tail between its legs. Terry got out of the butt as quickly as he could. The dog had recovered and was running back towards him fast. Terry grabbed the pipe section again and used it to knock the dog away again. The dog whimpered and ran away again. Then the dog ran at him again and he batted it away with the pipe again.

Chapter 4

Emily Ling was expecting her husband to half twig that she'd had a man there once again and if he'd looked about him on turning on the master bedroom light he would have seen evidence that Terry had been there. Disturbed bedclothes, rather too many cigarette butts in the ash tray, his own dressing gown rather unusually tossed in the washing basket despite being fairly clean ...

However, that didn't seem to be what was on his mind.

"Hello darling," said Emily. "Something wrong?"

"Have you seen my golf clubs?" asked Humphrey.

"Our golf clubs," corrected Emily.

Despite living in an enormous house Humphrey Ling and his wife were not wealthy. The house had been bequeathed to Humphrey by his parents who had both died rather early as result of cancer. Humphrey Ling having inherited a lot of money from them very early in life had then embarked on an expensive spending spree which had lasted into his middle age during which he had met Emily. Then at some point he'd eventually discovered that what in his youth had seemed to be a bottomless pit of inherited spondulix was actually just a small gully. A result of this was that Humphrey would come up with endless schemes to "save money" which sounded good but were often false economies. One of these was that they didn't need a set of golf clubs each they could just have one "set" with slightly more clubs than usual in it and share it between them.

"Our clubs," said Humphrey attempting diplomacy. "You shouldn't need them tomorrow - it's not a ladies' day." For those of you who don't remember the 80s I should perhaps explain that men and women had to play on different days due to the sexist rules of the club. This was the key to Humphrey's money saving plan - they'd never both be on the course at the same time. For some reason however, the plan didn't seem to work. There was a flaw in it no one could identify.

"Yes," said Emily. "I lent them to someone. Just for a day. You don't mind, do you?"

Humphrey gave her a confused look.

"I mean you weren't going to use them till the weekend anyway," said Emily. "They'll be back by then?"

Humphrey rubbed his chin. "Who did you lend them to?" he said.

"Sarah," said Emily touching her C.N.D. pendant.

Humphrey still looked confused.

Although she could not read minds Emily knew her husband had obviously never heard of Sarah which was hardly surprising as Emily had just made her up. That said there were loads of Sarahs in her school - there just wasn't a Sarah.

"Who's Sarah?" said Humphrey.

"Just someone at the school," improvised Emily. "The others asked her if she'd like a round and she said she would but she didn't think that she'd be any good ...and anyway she didn't have any clubs so I said that's no problem she could borrow mine ...ours ... as you're working late all this week ... so I didn't think you'd mind ... I would have asked you but ..."

"Shit," said Humphrey.

"I can get them back," said Emily.

"You'd better," said Humphrey. "I promised to lend them to someone else."

"Who?" said Emily.

"Chu," said Humphrey.

"Simon?"

"Yes."

"Hang about with him a lot these days, don't you?"

"Funny that we should both think to lend them to someone else at the same time?" said Humphrey sitting on the bed.

"Isn't it?" said Emily.

"Yes," said Humphrey. "Did you look inside?"

Emily felt awkward and off her guard. "No," she said. "Why?"

"You're lying," said Humphrey.

Emily felt even more awkward and scratched her philtrum. "No," she said. It was half true. She had been lying about who she had given the clubs to but she hadn't been lying about the fact she hadn't looked inside the bag.

"It's Monday," said Humphrey. "You're really telling me they couldn't have got their own clubs by Wednesday or borrowed some?"

"They did borrow some," said Emily, "...off me."

"You really didn't look inside?"

"What was inside?"

Humphrey looked fidgety. He scratched his nose. "A prop. I need it for work."

"Why would you leave a work prop in there?" asked Emily.

"I was working on it and ...-," Humphrey tailed off. "I wanted to take it to the club so I could show it to Fred for his opinion... it's a period prop and I thought he'd know more about the period. So..."

"Well, don't worry," said Emily who knew he was lying but felt too guilty of her own lies to be offended. "It's probably still there. I doubt Sarah would have wanted to do anything with it. She probably just ...took it out. Put it somewhere. I'll ask her...-" She picked up the bedside phone.

Humphrey put his hand on hers and pressed the receiver down again. Then he looked coolly into her eyes. "Sarah doesn't exist, does she?" he said.

Emily found she couldn't answer.

"It was a man, wasn't it?" said Humphrey.

"No," said Emily.

Humphrey had that look in his eye.

They were interrupted by doorbell playing the chimes playing out of tempo.

"I'd better get that," said Humphrey.

Emily wasn't going to argue. She followed him to the landing and looked over the banister to see who it was at the door.

It was Simon Chu. He had a big graze on the side of his face and some evidence of foliage about his person.

Chapter 5

"Hello, ... " said Humphrey. "What happened to you?"

"If I were you," said Simon. "I'd be asking what happened to him." He pointed.

Somewhere further down the front garden a fat man seemed to be embroiled in a fight with the Lings' Doberman Pinscher 'Brewin'. Brewin was almost winning but the man seemed to manage to just keep him at bay by waving around a section of broken drainpipe. As Humphrey and Simon were watching he gave in and made a run for it just getting over the front gate before Brewin could sink his teeth into his ample behind.

"Was that...?" asked Humphrey.

"Terry Scott," said Simon.

"What's he doing here?" said Humphrey.

"Making love to your wife from what I saw," said Simon Chu.

Humphrey Ling went redder than he already was and Simon considered that possibly he could have expressed himself a little more diplomatically. Then suddenly... "We've got to stop him!" shouted Humphrey Ling and sprinted for the bottom of the garden where an excited Brewin was barking at the gate he couldn't quite climb with wild futility.

Simon Chu hurried after Humphrey shouting "Come back!" When Simon reached the end of the garden he found Humphrey and Brewin prowling up and down the Brighton Road impotently. "There's nothing you can do now. He's gone," said Simon stating the obvious. "You should ... -" Simon began to add and was going to say 'look after your wife' but decided that actually he wouldn't say this.

Humphrey looked up and down the Brighton Road again.

Terry was nowhere to be seen.

Brewin growled at Simon angrily.

"Down Brewin," said Humphrey. "Friend... Friend..."

If Brewin did understand the word "friend" it was somewhat reluctantly.

"Come back to the house," said Simon. "We need to talk about business."

"This is business," said Humphrey.

"What?" said Simon.

"We've got to find him," said Humphrey.

"Why?" said Simon.

"You don't understand. He's got...-" began Humphrey

"No, I don't," said Simon.

"... clubs," said Humphrey.

"So what?"

"The moonflask was in with my clubs."

"I don't understand."

"Well, I couldn't very well just carry it about on public transport in full view of ...all and sundry so I put it in the front pocket of my club bag and took that about the place ... it seemed a great way of transporting it about incognito ... how was I to know...-?"

"You aren't telling me you've lost the moonflask?" asked Simon.

"Yes, Emily's lent my clubs to someone and I think it's him."

"Do you know that?"

"No."

"Well, let's go in and ask her," said Simon thinking in the moment.

Chapter 6

When they returned to the house after depositing Brewin back in his kennel Emily was at the front door in what Humphrey had always thought was a preposterously over elaborate dressing gown - the kind of thing Norman Desmond might wear had she lived in south London and had less financial resources.

"What's going on out here?" asked Emily as they both stepped inside and dripped on the carpet.

"Have you been fucking Terry Scott?" asked Humphrey.

"What if I have?" said Emily.

Humphrey punched her hard in the face. It wasn't the first time and it wouldn't be the last. What's more he was sure he was right to do it. He knew he was right to do it – there was no question. Emily collapsed hitting her head on the ugly chipboard table that the phone rested on in the hall and passed out.

Simon knelt down and felt her pulse and checked her breathing and bruising. "She'll live," he decided after a time although this opinion was not based on any scientific evidence. It just sounded to him like a proportionate thing to say and he just felt he had to say something. He looked up at Humphrey.

"She asked for it," said Humphrey.

Simon stood up. "I'm not interested," he said, "...in anything but the moonflask... Luckily for you ...or unluckily for you if you really have lost it."

"She lost it," said Humphrey.

"Well, you certainly lost it," said Simon.

"I think she gave it to that Terry Scott out of spite... or stupidity."

"You punch out your wife in front of me and talk to me about spite?"

"It was an accident," said Humphrey even thought it clearly wasn't.

"Which? Punching your wife or losing the moonflask?"

"The moonflask. You do ...believe me?"

"If I wasn't considering it we'd be having a very different conversation."

"How do I get the clubs back from Scott then?"

"That's your problem ... If he has them...?"

"He has them," said Humphrey.

"And the moonflask is in them?" said Simon.

"Yes," said Humphrey.

"She'll have to ask him," said Simon looking at Emily again. "If you can bring yourself to talk to your wife without hitting her...?"

"I don't want her talking to him again," said Humphrey.

"Like you've got-...." Simon began, but then he broke off and then looked down at the camera still hanging round his neck. "Actually forget it. I'll sort it out myself," he said.

Chapter 7

Then "Wherefore they are no more twain, but one flesh. What therefore God hath joined together let not man put asunder," Terry had concluded making the words sound as flat and ominous as Jesus himself must have done 1900 years ago. During this he'd stared at particular members of the congregation just long enough to make them uncomfortable. It was one of his best performances. Nobody said so later but Terry knew so now. Afterwards Terry went to the hall for coffee. Terry liked going to the hall for coffee. It made him feel part of things and he did not always feel part of things despite everyone knowing who he was – or thinking they did ... or him thinking they did.

Elsewhere things were difficult. Things were particularly difficult at home. Indeed things were so difficult at home that Terry might as well not have been living at home he sometimes thought. He had been exiled to the spare bedroom at the moment. It wasn't really spare at all. It belonged to one of his daughters who had now left home and he felt it was too small for him but he could hide there when he wanted. If people asked why Margaret wasn't there he'd employ the best explanation he'd come up with which was that she didn't enjoy watching him preach. It had a ring of truth about it without being totally true. Most of the time when people did ask it was about June.

The main thing Terry liked about the Church was it made him centre of attention ... particularly when he'd been helping out in his role of lay preacher by repeating the word of God to the congregation with what he liked to feel sounded like sincere authority and in whatever performance style this week took his fancy. Earlier in his life Terry had experimented with many other denominations but by trial and error he'd come to the conclusion that it was only really the Methodists who'd really let you talk complete rubbish as a hobby and without too much supervision. True, the Church of England and the Catholics let people on stage for a little time for short intervals to read from the Bible and even Islam could provide the under-qualified with a platform but with Methodism he'd found there was more scope for improvisation. You could really let yourself go. You could do some proper improv. He'd tried the Quakers once but they'd asked him to leave because the Holy Spirit moved him to talk too much.

Terry always hung around as long as possible after the gig helping with serving coffees in the hall with whoever had volunteered and then washing up the cups and plates. Usually this was with Gavin. Terry liked talking to Gavin. He would ask Gavin about his life as he dried and Gavin would tell him about geology and cricket as he washed. Generally Gavin did the washing part as when he did the drying part it seemed to create rather a lot of broken crockery but once the crockery was in the sink the volume of damage he could do was more limited. Indeed, washing up was one of the few jobs Terry trusted Gavin to do without knocking too many things over.

One of the great things about Gavin from Terry's perspective was that you didn't need to talk to him. Set Gavin on the right subject and he would just go. For example Gavin had explained several times over in the past that while their church was made mainly from ordinary red clay bricks there were actually a number of granite sections too and how some limestone had been added in an attempt to make it a bit more posh. Given a bit of a prod Gavin would often re-explain this yet again and it made Terry feel good. However, the best quality Gavin had was that unlike many of the other Methodists who had religious objections to such activities he did like going to the pub.

"So, fancy a pint, Gavin?" said Terry as Gavin washed up the final saucer and placed it on the draining board of the utilitarian kitchen.

"Yes, where shall we go ... 'the Forum'?" asked Gavin.

"That's a good idea!" said Terry picking up a cup and drying it so it wasn't really dry but putting it in the cupboard anyway without really looking to check if it was clean.

Five minutes later they had left the Church and were on their way to enjoy at least one of the few hours that the government allowed pubs to open on a Sunday. Gavin carried an umbrella that blew inside out several times. Terry carried a bag of golf clubs. Gavin did not ask him why. The Centre that contained the pub was deserted and all the shops were shut because it was a Sunday. Keeping to the cover of the concrete walkways Terry and Gavin hurried down to 'the Forum'. Terry liked the fact that 'the Forum' was open on a Sunday and he liked the fact that it didn't open till the Church was closed. Terry liked 'the Forum'. It was crap.

The travelator was not working so they had to walk up the concrete steps.

Like most things that are crap 'the Forum' had at one time seemed like a really good idea to someone. After all the Romans invented concrete so what better landmark to put in a concrete shopping centre than a concrete Roman themed pub? Whoever designed the interior had done a lot of research into Roman interior design that was completely wasted on clientele. It was the perfect place to observe no shoppers because most of the shops were shut.

After ordering a couple of pints of bitter they parked themselves by the window beneath a small bust that was meant to be Ceasar Vespian. After several pints...

"What are the golf clubs for?" asked Gavin. "I thought you hated golf."

"I do," said Terry sipping at his pint and feeling it was well earned. "I borrowed these. They're for a BBC staff game. June said I should do it and I might get us on pro-celebrity golf and talk the management into giving us ...-," he sighed. "It's like our series my real life, isn't it?"

"Do you know how to play?" asked Gavin.

"Well, .... No not really," said Terry, "...but it can't be that hard can it? Like putting at the park except you hit the ball further."

"I think there might be a bit more to it than that," said Gavin.

"You think?" said Terry.

"I think there are different clubs for different things ... for hitting the ball in different ways. Don't you have to know which one's which?"

"I'm sure it'll come to me," said Terry waving away the idea with his hand as if it were a fly.

"I've heard you can get thrown off the course if you hit big chunks out of the green or ...."

"Well, I did some once for a TV play I think ... but I can't remember much ... You ever played?"

"No," said Gavin. "The management do it at work but I've never been that interested."

"Let's have a look," said Terry opening up the bag, "and see if we can't figure out what they're all for..."

Terry took a random club or two out the bag and handed one to Gavin.

"I guess this one's for hitting it a long way," said Gavin examining a short iron, "because it's quite thick and heavy."

"Yes," said Terry examining a chipper, "and this one must be a putter. What's the curved one for?"

"I don't know," said Gavin. "I can't see it all."

Terry unzipped the bag to remove more clubs. As he put his hand in he stopped. He had felt something. "That's funny," he said. "There's something else in here."

"Golf balls?" asked Gavin speculatively.

"No I...," said Terry. "...A package of some kind."

"A package?" parroted Gavin.

"Yes, hold on a minute...," said Terry. His head disappeared below the table as he rummaged round in the bottom of the bag. It was one of those canvass bags that bulges at the base with much more capacity at the bottom than at the top. Eventually Terry's head popped back up above the table and in his hands was the mystery object. It was wrapped in newspaper.

"What is it?" asked Gavin.

"What indeed? Ha ha," said Terry exited and enthusiastic as he unwrapped the paper without even thinking if he was invading anybody's privacy.

Inside the paper was a vase or flask of some kind. It was porcelain and white with blue patterns on it. There were flowers which had been painted in a highly symmetrical radiating pattern that spiraled about the base. The flask was circular-ish but an odd shape. The neck of the flask bulged slightly and had its own blue pattern that didn't connect with the main pattern. Both patterns incorporated flowers of some kind. There were two handles on either side of the neck three quarters of the way up.

"What is it?" asked Terry.

"Looks like a vase," said Gavin. He looked again. "Looks old. Antique I expect ..."

"Must be Ling's," said Terry turning it upright. "He's the man I borrowed the clubs off."

"Who?"

"TV designer ...lives round here. His wife's a teacher ...must be one of his props."

"Looks a bit detailed for a prop," said Gavin. He looked at the bag then he looked at the flask. "I wonder why anyone would put it in there?"

"I've no idea," said Terry.

It looked very odd particularly next to the interior décor of 'the Forum' and its customer base.

"Shall I get another round in?" asked Gavin.

"Do," said Terry.

Gavin slid out from his side of the table but did so without looking behind him. A lady bumped into Gavin. Gavin bumped into the table. The table was not screwed down. The flask wobbled a moment and then fell off the table.

The flask hit the floor.

There was a rather disgusting thin red spotted carpet on the floor to absorb beer stains but underneath that it was concrete. As the flask fell Gavin hoped the carpet would break its fall. It didn't. The flask shattered into many pieces. They all stared at the pieces and shards.

The woman squealed. "I'm terribly sorry," she said.

"That's okay," said Terry with a winning smile. "It's only a prop. They look expensive but...-"

"Looks real to me," said the lady.

"They're very good like that," said Terry. "But it's just transfers on some pottery..."

"Okay," said the clearly unconvinced lady quickly leaving the pub in case she received a bill.

An angry member of bar staff turned up to help clear up the mess. This man was not bothered by what the object had once been. He shoved the pieces in a bin liner.

"Sorry," said Gavin to both the bar staff and and to Terry. It sounded inadequate.

"That's okay," lied the man with the dustpan, brush and bin liner. "Accidents happen."

"No," said Terry.

He finished sweeping up and left.

Gavin sat down and looked at Terry blankly.

"Well," said Terry hopefully, "Humphrey and Emily didn't notice it was in there when they lent me the clubs... They may not even notice now it's gone."

"Was it a prop?"

"I suppose it must have been."

"It didn't look like a prop. Anyway...-"

"No. Well," said Terry, "...it's ....well ...it's... still your turn ...to get a round in?"

"Sorry yes," said Gavin, "it's still my round, isn't it?". He went to the bar again.

Chapter 8

A week passed. Gavin spent most of his day time thinking about biostratigraphy and most of his evenings listening to a reel to reel recording he'd made of a test match while at work. It was recorded at 15/16ths of an inch per second so he could go out to work in the morning and come home in the evening and find virtually a whole day of Radio 4 Longwave on his 7 inch reel. This worked quite well in terms of capturing a lot of spoken words if you could tolerate the loss of the higher frequencies. By Sunday he had run out of tape to listen to so he went to church in the morning. In the afternoon he and Terry found themselves in "The Forum" again.

"The thing is," said Terry, "... and I don't want you to feel bad about this ... because it's not your fault ... but there's a ...a problem ...with that flask thing that got broken."

"Oh," said Gavin. "Well, I don't mind paying something ...-"

"Oh no," said Terry. "I couldn't ..-."

"How much was it?"

"Let's park that for a moment ..., " said Terry . "I think you'd better look at this."

Terry handed Gavin an A5 envelope. Gavin opened and pulled out the photograph.

"Careful, don't let everyone see," said Terry.

The picture of a lion gormandizing on Saint Ignatius of Antioch behind Terry's head did not make Gavin feel more comfortable.

Gavin cast his eyes down to the photograph again. The picture was clearly Terry and the expression on his face similar to one he pulled in his many "curly wurly" advertisements. The lady astride of him was not altogether unattractive. While not exactly a "man of the world" Gavin was aware what the conventional view of female beauty was and was sure such a photograph would be of interest to a particular subsection of 'red top' newspaper 'readers'.

"How?" asked Gavin wondering what kind of lens had been employed. Then he added "Who?"

"The man who wants the flask back took it," said Terry.

"So it wasn't just a prop-...?"

"No. It was an original."

"Of what?"

"It's a moonflask."

"What's that?"

"That's what I asked and I didn't really get a very simple answer but put simply ...I think ... It's a flask ... that's shaped like the moon," said Terry. "They made a lot of them in China... during the Ming period ... and they're priceless."

"How much is priceless?" asked Gavin. His pint of bitter shook in his hand.

"Two million? Five million? Ten million? No one knows," said Terry. "They don't come on the market too often. That one was about 500 years old."

"Are you ... sure it was genuine?" asked Gavin hopefully. "Someone could be ... pulling your leg?"

Terry made a theatrical gesture towards the rest of the bar. "Do you see Jeremy Beadle here?"

"But it can't be?" said Gavin. "Who carries Ming vases in with their golf clubs?"

"Apart from me?"

"You said you borrowed them?"

"I did," said Terry. "They belonged to a woman call Emily ...and her husband. She's the lady in the photo. I was ...-"

"Oh," said Gavin. "And her husband put them in a golf bag?"

"Yes. She leant them to me not knowing it was in there. They share clubs...-"

"So she- ... he owns it?" said Gavin confused.

"No, a Mr Chu owns it. Humphrey had sold it to Chu ... Or so Simon Chu tells me ... he said he'd bought it off them and Ling was using the bag to deliver it to him discretely when his wife lent me the bag without knowing ...if you follow that."

"Oh..."

"Chu had gone round there to pick up the clubs and turned up early and found me in bed with Emily ... anyway that's how he managed to take the photo ...-?"

"Yes, ... I see," said Gavin. "It's a bit complicated, isn't it?"

"Anyway that's what he said on the phone. I had to ring him on from a phone box outside Queens Gardens at ten minutes past nine this evening ...the letter with that photo told me to."

"A Mr Chu?"

"Yes, mean anything to you?"

"No... So what did you say?"

"I said he could have it back ... obviously."

"But you don't have it anymore."

"No."

"Neither do I?"

"No."

"So why ask me?"

"I don't know.... because you broke it?"

"I see," said Gavin. "You didn't tell him I broke it then?"

"No," said Terry.

"Why not?" asked Gavin.

"Because ...," said Terry, "he seemed a little angry and he has the negative of that photograph. And he claimed to me a member of a Triad."

"What's a Triad?" asked Gavin.

"They're a Chinese secret organisation," said Terry. "Like the Masons or ... the Richardsons ... or the Mafia ... only more dangerous. Or so I read...in the library."

Gavin looked at Terry blankly.

"Also," said Terry aggrieved, "that he made a number of unpleasant threats involving curly wurly chocolate bars towards me ... -"

"I see," said Gavin and went to the bar to get another round in.

Eventually he sat down again and they both started drinking again. Gavin ate a packet of crisps loudly. His Doctor had told him not to eat crisps because he had a heart condition but what was the worst that could happen? To make himself worry less about this he offered some to Terry.

"Thank you," said Terry selecting a crisp, dipping it in his pint and then eating it. "Anyway the problem is that ... he still thinks I've got the moonflask... and, well, I can't give it back to him."

"Well, we can't reassemble it so ... -?"

"I suppose we'll just have to get another."

"Isn't that a bit of a long shot?"

"Yes," said Terry. "But it's somewhere to start... and silly as it is I can't think of a sensible plan. That's to say when I thought about it more I started to think is where did Humphrey Ling get it from in the first place to sell to this Simon Chu? Wherever he got it from was a bit suspect if he was transporting it round in a bag of golf clubs? So there may another somewhere...?"

"So," clarified Gavin, "you think it was stolen from somewhere ... where there are others?"

"Yes..." said Terry. "Possibly..."

"Maybe you should call the police then?"

"Would you believe a story like this?"

"Not really."

"...and this isn't just the press or the police it's organized crime," said Terry.

"Of course he may not be in a Triad," said Gavin. "He might have said that just to frighten you."

"He's doing a good job. It's so unfair... all I did was sleep with someone's wife? You expect an angry husband ... you don't expect to be threatened with ... well, I don't what ... and you don't expect ... well, I don't know what to expect?"

"So what are you planning to do?" asked Gavin.

"If I could talk to Emily then maybe she could help sort it out," said Terry. "Or mediate for me- ...us ...somehow but whenever I ring the Ling's home phone during the day I can't seem to get her ... and I daren't call in person he might set the dog on me again."

"Hum," said Gavin.

Chapter 9

Emily and Humphrey were having an evening in. They seemed to have a lot of evenings in – or Emily did. She could go out but Humphrey usually found subtle and not-very-subtle ways to object when she did ... even when he wasn't there himself. Tonight Humphrey was trying to be nice but she could tell he didn't feel much towards her and it was all very stilted. She was watching snooker on television. He was reading a book. She often watched snooker on television. She had no real interest in it but it was hypnotically boring particularly on their black and white set. Nursing a large glass of whisky and soda Emily let herself drift into drunkenness.

Humphrey didn't say anything. He just sat in 'his' chair reading the newspaper.

The phone rang. Emily didn't answer it. Emily had said she wouldn't use the phone anymore. Not for a while anyway. She didn't want to hear Terry's voice and Humphrey certainly didn't want to hear Terry's voice. Humphrey didn't answer it either. Emily got up and walked unsteadily to the other end of the room.

"Would you like another drink?" said Emily. There was no response. Emily filled her glass up again and went back to the television. Hurricane Higgins seemed to be taking an awful long time to pot the balls.

"No," replied Humphrey curtly. Then he added "Thank you."

Eventually the phone stopped ringing.

Chapter 10

A while later the monotony was broken again by the out of tempo Westminster chimes which they were forced to suffer when anyone pressed the doorbell for long enough for the mechanism to react.

Humphrey went to answer it. It was Simon Chu.

"Simon," lied Humphrey. "This is a surprise. Come in."

"I was going to," said Simon Chu stepping in out of the rain. "Thank you." He handed his umbrella to Humphrey. Humphrey put it in a corner near the door. It dripped making the carpet wet and producing a small puddle that Humphrey never noticed.

"What can I do for you?" asked Humphrey formally. "Would you like a drink? ...or something? Come through..."

Simon didn't ask for anything or answer the question. They went into the front room.

Emily was still watching the snooker. "Do you want me to go?" she said.

"No," said Simon. "Thank you."

***

Simon Chu looked round the front room. He was not an expert in interior décor but it seemed to him that Humphrey had gone to some effort to make his front room look tacky. There was lots of gaudy chipboard furniture in complimentary colours and an ugly electric fire in a tile grate. There were a couple of nice chesterfield chairs and a sofa but this was largely because Humphrey had inherited them. A white ball hit a grey ball on the black and white television and the commentator made some comments that were loud and inane. What do you say to a woman you last saw getting her lights punched out by her husband? He reminded himself that acting as their marriage councilor was not why he was there and pretended to himself he was a hard man who didn't give a shit – he was not that convinced of this himself but he felt if he didn't look as though he believed it they wouldn't.

"It's only the snooker. You can talk over it," said Emily walking over to the television to turn the volume down then sitting back on the settee. "Don't mind me."

Simon thought he wouldn't have anyway and directed his comments directly to Humphrey. "I came to tell you I've made contact with Terry," he said sitting down in one of the chesterfield chairs. He felt 'made contact' sounded cooler than 'found'.

"I could have made contact with Terry for you," said Emily. "It's easy."

"Thanks," said Simon, "but he wasn't hard to find. Actually I think I've met him before but he doesn't remember. Sit down, Humphrey..."

"Where?" said Humphrey.

Simon indicated the chesterfield chair next to him as though it was his home not Humphrey's.

"No, I mean where did you meet him?" said Humphrey sitting down.

"At a party I think some time ago...," said Simon.

"Maybe you did," said Humphrey.

"Anyway he says he hasn't got it...," said Simon.

"Your moonflask thing?" interjected Emily.

"... but I'm sure he has," continued Simon, "... he suggested he broke it ...or something ... but I think that's a story. I think he was playing games."

"I don't think he's got it," said Emily.

"What?" said Humphrey.

"I said," said Emily as though they were a distraction from the television, "that I don't think he's got it..."

"Listen," started Humphrey, "you said...-"

"I know what I said," said Emily still staring at the telly. "I said he took the clubs. It was you who said that the flask was in with the clubs. But what if it wasn't? That is ... I didn't look before I leant them so it could have been in there ... or not. When did you put it there? Someone else could have taken it out before...-?"

"Don't get involved," said Humphrey obviously agitated. "You don't know what this is about."

"Apart from what you've already told me?" said Emily.

Simon spoke directly to Humphrey again. "It's okay, Humphrey, ignore her ... I don't trust Terry but ... why wouldn't he just say he never had it if he never had it? No, he's got ..or had it...-"

"Because you threatened him?" said Emily.

"Shut up," said Humphrey.

"I don't know how you can sit there," said Emily looking at Humphrey, "next to a man who'd sell pictures of your wife fucking another man for cash...-"

"Yes, I took some photographs of you ...and Terry, " Simon addressed her directly. "But I wouldn't sell them. They were for insurance...-"

"Well, you went to enough effort to get them ...honestly... what crap. You'd sell your own sperm profit," said Emily. "I mean you shinned up a drainpipe and hung from a gutter... and ...well ...play the hard man if you like but I don't think you took them for profit. I think you took it to wank over. I think you're a Peeping Tom."

"Well, you're wrong I took them for profit," said Simon, "but so whatt? I'm a Red Pole and ...-"

"Ha!" said Emily.

"Arts students can be in Triads. I'm in the Wo Shing Wo," said Simon. "I've undergone initi-"

"Yes, ...little boy," interrupted Emily.

"Without us Hongmen," Simon lectured her, "the Qing dynasty would probably still be in power so you understand ... we ... we're historically the supporters of the Ming dynasty so ... so I'm sure you can understand why a Ming dynasty moonflask might be of interest to us?"

"Is he for real?" laughed Emily sipping whisky in a theatrical manner.

"Yes, he is," said Humphrey.

"Oh fuck off," said Emily. "He's not even in the Scouts."

"I feel we're drifting off the point," said Simon. "The point is I just came to tell you not to worry and that everything's under control and to just stay calm ...I'll get the moonflask back."

"No you didn't," said Emily. "You came round here because you're shitting yourself and want to talk about it with grown ups..."

"I came round here," said Simon irritated, "because I don't want either of you doing anything stupid...-"

"Oh come off it," said Emily. "You came round here because you've got no one else to talk to, have you?"

"-... like negotiating with Terry yourselves," continued Simon. "There has to be one point of contact for this to work."

"For what to work?" said Emily. "Blackmail? Just ask me nicely and I'll pick up that phone and ask Terry and he'll bring it back. I'm sure he doesn't want your moonflask or whatever..."

"Do you know how much it's worth?" said Humphrey.

"No, but I know Terry and he's not greedy," said Emily.

"Is that why he fucks other people's wives?" said Humphrey.

"They're not cheap," said Simon.

"This is stupid ...," said Emily. "I'll just ring him." She rose and walked towards the door.

"You don't need to phone anyone!" said Humphrey jumping up and slamming the door in front of her. It banged loudly. An ugly plastic ornament fell off a chipboard shelf.

"Okay, keep your hair on," said Emily.

"Let's all calm down," said Simon.

"Oh fuck off Triad boy," said Emily.

"You're not allowed to phone anybody at the moment," said Humphrey.

"If you say so, darling," said Emily.

"Remember," Humphrey added, "I pay the bill so I'll know."

Emily walked back to the chesterfield sofa and slumped herself back out on it in front of the television and glued her eyes to it. Steve Davis was attempting a very difficult cushion shot. She pretended to be riveted.

"Thank you, darling," said Humphrey.

"Yes, thank you," said Simon and then he left the room hurriedly. A moment later the front door slammed loudly and a gust of cold air wafted into the front room making the door open again. Humphrey closed the door to the front room, picked up his book, sat down in his chesterfield chair and started reading.

Chapter 11

"Humphrey?" asked Emily.

"Yes, darling," said Humphrey.

"Is that boy really in a Triad?"

"I believe so."

"He's a tosser."

"Perhaps," said Humphrey. "But good at what he does."

"Which is? Apart from being a student and a Peeping Tom?"

"Sells antiques ... he's got a good eye..."

"Can you be an antiques salesman, an art student and be in a Triad?"

"Apparently ... I met him at a party and it turned out we were in the same line... he's Fred's son."

"Fred?" said Emily sounding disinterested.

"You know Fred ...who I buy the odd prop from sometimes? ... he was the one who came across this Chinese moonflask. He lent it to me because he wanted my opinion as to the value ... happens to be a pet subject of mine. Trouble is no one seems to be quite sure of the provenance. So that's why I was carrying it about in my ...- in our golf bag... I wanted...-"

"Bollocks," said Emily, "But don't worry I don't care what the truth is. I just worry that he's smarter than you."

"Do I look that stupid?" said Humphrey.

"Yes," said Emily then she went back to watching snooker.

After some time Humphrey came and sat next to her. He sat silently on the end of the sofa for a bit. For a while they both listened to the flat monotones of the commentator. It passed the time. Humphrey put his hand on her leg she felt the warmth of his body. Emily wasn't sure she wanted him to be doing it. He didn't seem very sure either. After a while he stopped.

Chapter 12

As he climbed the travelator Terry cursed the fact he had to meet someone else when other people were about. He hated being stared at even though most people didn't stare. This was why he usually went out on a Sunday. Today was not a Sunday but it was an emergency. Fortunately he had worked out that if you walked through the underpass from the station and down Altyre Road you could cut through the underground car park under Fairfield Gardens and come out up the other underpass. Then if you knew how you could also cut through George's Walk car park to the High Street you could get into the middle of Croydon without having to be looked at by hardly anyone at all. Terry thought he should have asked Gavin to meet him somewhere that wasn't as public as 'the Forum' but hopefully there'd be no one much in there. This was why Terry liked it. Terry's idea of a good pub was one that was barely financially viable and ideally on the verge of closure. When he got there he found Gavin had already secured a corner booth under a reproduction of 'The Remorse of Nero' by John William Waterhouse.

"Hello," said Terry brightly before disappearing to the bar to buy himself a pint and returning to the booth. "Now where were we ..."

"You were saying," said Gavin, "that Simon Chu said he won't give your photograph to the press unless you give him the moonflask back."

"Yes, I was," said Terry. "Yes ...."

"But ... well, we can't ..., can we? We don't have it."

"No."

"I broke it"

"Yes."

"So I'm not sure what I can do to help," said Gavin opening a packet of crisps. "I mean I'm very sorry and all that ...I didn't mean to ... well, you know... but ...-"

"Well," said Terry. "I've been thinking ... I think that perhaps I could probably smooth it over ... if only I could get hold of Emily. In some way...-"

"The lady you were...-?"

"Yes," said Terry. "You see it's possible that wherever she and Humphrey got the moonflask from they might be able to get another one ...or they might be able to persuade this Simon Chu that actually it was a genuine accident and I'm not holding his precious flask to ransom ... and I mean ...why would I? I don't know but I know I need to talk to somebody and I don't fancy Humphrey..."

"You couldn't just telephone her?"

"I told you," said Terry, "she never picks up the phone. Neither does he...-"

"Maybe it's disconnected?" said Gavin.

"No, I can hear the engaged tone. It rings it's just ... no one picks up."

"Well," said Gavin, "you could go round there ...and knock on the door...?"

"No," said Terry. "I don't think that would be a good idea."

"Why?"

"Brewin."

"Who?"

"Humphrey's dog ... Since what happened ... happened ... Brewin's been given the run of the whole garden front and back. I only just got away from him last time and bits of my trousers didn't. I think I'd be ripped to pieces before I reached the front door. "

"You could wait for her to come out..."

"I'd be waiting a long time. It's like the dog's trying to keep her prisoner in there. She never seems to go anywhere except to work and she drives there. I've tried stopping her but I can't get near ...."

"Surely she's not going to let Brewin bite you?"

"Well, he's not her dog. I'm not sure she can control him ...if anyone can. But it may be I'm dog phobic or something."

"How does the postman manage then?"

"The postman leaves their letters in one of those things at the bottom of the garden like the Americans have. Anyway I can't wait around there all day on the off chance she'll go somewhere without the car or when the dog's chained up or something. The neighbours round there probably already think report me to the police or something..."

"Well, can't you talk to Humphrey...-?"

"I have tried," said Terry, "but I didn't get much further than 'Hello' before he started shouting that he was 'going to smash my fat face in'. Then he chased me down the road ... and he's pretty fit. Fortunately I managed to jump on the 409. So did he but as we were passing Cinderella Rockerfellas at chucking out time I saw there was a fight there so I jumped off and was able to lose him in the crowd... but I'm wandering off the point ... I need to meet her."

"Why? I still don't understand ... how will she sort it all out?"

"I don't know but I think she's my best bet. Anyway I've got a plan. Visit her at work..."

"Seems a logical solution," said Gavin. "Where does she work?"

"Ah,... " said Terry, "that's the problem. She's a schoolteacher. That's why I need you. You see I can't go to a school ...everyone would recognise me. I'm not exactly incognito here ... going to a girls school is asking for trouble."

"Do you need to be incognito?" asked Gavin.

"Of course I do I've been having an affair...," Terry started to say loudly but tailed off when he realised that people could overhear him, "...with her. I mean ...I don't want Margaret to find out, do I? It would upset her. She still hasn't got over ... Well, anyway... , look ...I wouldn't ask, Gavin, if I didn't desperately need your help ...but ... well, I can't go, can I?"

Gavin looked very unconvinced.

"Just go ... have a chat with her ...see if you can get her to see sense and ... sort something out ... or help me sort something out ... I'm sure she doesn't want our affair splashed across the tabloids either but I can't get anywhere near her to talk to her ... and I can't go hanging round girls' schools with no reason, can I? People will say they'll say I'm some sort of pervert."

"Well, why won't they think me a pervert if I hang around a girls' school with no reason?"

"Well, at least if they do they won't know who you are ...?"

"The police might put together a photofit."

"That won't happen," said Terry producing a copy of the local paper. "I've got a plan." He laid open the paper on the table in front of Gavin. It was open at the classified section. "There!" said Terry stabbing at it with a fat finger.

Gavin looked at the advertisement. It read:

'Ealhswith School for Young Ladies. Open Day. Ealhswith is a highly successful and ambitious school, and we seek to ensure that the talents and abilities of all young ladies are nurtured and encouraged to flourish in a structured and supportive environment. We believe that truly excellent education is about more than academic achievement alone. Our intention is to provide an inspiring education for life. Is your daughter about to enter secondary school...?'

"I don't have any children," said Gavin.

"You don't need children. You just say you have some and they have to take it on trust. You can go right inside and no one will suspect a thing!"

"You've got children. Why don't you go ...? It might be more...-"

"People know I've got daughters but they might also know their ages. None are actually 10 to 11 so it'd never work if I did it. It has to be someone whose life is a blank page. It's got to be you."

"But," said Gavin, "... who'd believe that I've got daughters? I don't even have a wife."

"I thought you'd say that," said Terry. "But don't worry I've thought of that. I'll get you a wife."

"You can't just 'get a wife'?" protested Gavin.

"Of course you can," said Terry. "There are people who do nothing else than pretend to be other people's wives... They're called 'escorts'. They escort men who haven't got a woman to places where they're expected to be seen with a woman."

"That's a job?"

"Yes, people do it all the time. Leon Brittain, Harvey Proctor, Ted Heath ... you know the sort of person... Men who are supposed to ...be seen with women ...but aren't often enough. You go to an agency. I know a very good one."

Chapter 13

"What's your name?" Gavin had asked on the journey by way of small talk.

"Sarah Wang," the young lady had said.

Ms Wang was young, twenties and attractive if you liked that sort of thing. Gavin thought she was rather inappropriately attired given the nature of their assignment. Terry could protest all he liked that ladies from escort agencies were not prostitutes but this woman was certainly dressed the part of a 'hooker' even if she wasn't one. Then again Gavin's conceptions of what a lady of the night might look like were gained almost entirely from the film 'Night Shift'. At least he had made an effort to dress appropriately even if it had been a struggle for him to find a tie that wasn't too stained, a shirt that wasn't worn and a suit without too many creases in it.

Since Terry had helped her into the car and closed the passanger door Gavin had said almost nothing to Sarah Wang and yet he had only just thought of this one question now. Now Gavin could not think of anything else to say again.

"Did Terry explain what we're doing?"

"I am pretending to be your wife and you are pretending to send children to the school so I shall say as little as possible Terry tells me," said Ms Wang.

"Good," said Gavin.

As they drove up the tree lined private road towards the school it occurred again to Gavin that backing out now would be the sensible thing to do now. However, he felt committed. Gavin had never known the Mapin estate had existed before Terry had told him he needed to go there and was vaguely fascinated.

The tyres crunched over the red gravel driveway.

The car stopped in an area that looked like a parking bay but Gavin thought they might still get shouted out for parking in. They stepped out of Gavin's mini which Gavin was aware did not shout out 'we've got a large enough private income to send our offspring to private school' . They walked up the short red gravel drive to the school's front door.

Gavin looked at the gravel. Gavin was aware that the gravel was not local. The colour of the gravel matched the colour of building which was mainly red brick and yet relatively modern. The building had looked as if it had started as a small private house and been added to in a higgledy piggledy fashion as needs had arisen making it an interesting mix of slightly unpleasant architectural styles. Inside an attempt had been made to make the place look older than it was by the gratuitous installation of large quantities of wooden panelling. Fortunately there was no need to interact with anyone on stepping in the building as a series of signs stated "Open day visitors this way". The signs directed them to a small classroom which was filled with prospective parents and guardians all keen to give their offspring if not the best start in life what was at least a slightly more expensive start in life than leaving it to the state.

After some time avoiding the swarm of real and really revolting parents Gavin and Ms Wang were rescued from what seemed an eternity of staring at unappetising sandwiches and disapproving stares by the appearance amongst them of a lady they assumed must be the headmistress of Ealhswith School. She was accompanied a number of prefects who were dressed in extremely unflattering purple and yellow blazers. Gavin considered how these blazers' colours matched those of Ms Wang's outfit. Perhaps she wasn't so incorrectly dressed after all?

Chapter 14

"Hello and welcome to Ealhswith School. I'm Miss Cunard," said Ms Cunard, "the Headmistress of Ealhswith School. Thank you for considering us as the choice for your girl for her secondary level education."

Ms Cunard always felt awkward at this point. She'd have liked to have said that the school had a great history and reputation for providing outstanding education to local girls but unfortunately it didn't actually have that much history. She'd like to have boasted of the school's alumni but there weren't many who had risen to any great social or political height - partly because the school was not that old.

Ealhswith School was at the heart of a large private estate in Purley called the Mapin estate. The estate its self had been built and laid out between 1910 and the late 1930s by the titual Mr Mapin and was designed to separate the elite who lived there from the less elite who lived elsewhere. During the evolution of the estate Ealhswith School had been something of a historical afterthought. Having erected lots of gates, fences and one way roads to separate the residents of the estate from the hoi polloi it had retrospectively occurred to Mr Mapin that the inhabitants of his luxury mini-village might none-the-less unfortunately need some social amenities. So rather late in the day he had then looked at his plans for the estate again and bunged in a public school and a public house as afterthoughts.

This always made Ms Cunard's speech about the history of the school somewhat awkward. She would like to have told of how great educational entrepreneurs had set out to start a school and then found a premises for it but instead she had to tell them the story of how Mr Mapin had had a premises and then stuffed some teaching staff in it for want of a better idea. She did say that "Applicants will be tested in Maths, English and Verbal Reasoning" but she knew that in reality they couldn't afford to implement their selection procedures to the rigorous level of intellectual snobbery that she would really have liked. "We are a proud school," continued Ms Cunard. "We aim to produce efficient and successful girls and give them a sense of social responsibility and purpose. We do not think the purpose of education is just to stuff children full of knowledge. Parents must face reality," she said. "Not all children can achieve as much as others but we aim to offer to educate every child the best we can ...not just the clever ones ...unlike some such institutions I could name."

Ms Cunard stopped and smiled. She had told them that the school was full of thick kids who couldn't get into more selective schools so they couldn't now complain when they found out later. "Now you shall see the school as a living organism," she continued. "The school prefects here will show you round in small groups and after you've seen the whole school we'll all meet back here for coffee and refreshments." Then without bothering to introduce herself to them Ms Cunard proceeded to select four or six persons at random, connect them to a prefect and dispatch them on their respective tours at five minute intervals.

Chapter 15

Gavin was not in a hurry to go on the tour and Sarah Wang was not that bothered either so they skulked at the back of the room until there was no one else in front of them to hide behind. Eventually a prefect was assigned to conduct them and the few others remaining around the building - a sullen girl with acne called Lucy. Lucy's lack of interest in the institution she represented was barely concealed.

Just as Lucy was conducting them out the door and Gavin was considering that at least part of this horrific ordeal was over something happened that he was not prepared for.

"It's Sarah, isn't it?" said Ms Cunard.

"Yes, Miss Cunard," said Sarah.

There was an awkward stillness.

Gavin had a fairly active imagination and a cynical mind but one possibility that he had not entertained was that this institution should once not such a long time ago have been his 'escort's' school.

"You went here?" Gavin asked her and then realised immediately that he should not have said it. Matters were made worse by the fact that Sarah Wang's acting was so bad that even Gavin could tell that it was bad acting.

"Didn't I tell you that this was my old school?" she came up with.

"No," said Gavin. He realised he would have to think on his feet. "You probably won't believe this," he said to Ms Cunard, "but I never asked h- ...Sarah".

Ms Cunard gave Gavin a look that didn't conceal her thoughts.

"I mean ... generally I leave bringing up the children and that sort of thing to ....Sarah," improvised Gavin. "I'm afraid that makes me sound very irresponsible and old fashioned, doesn't it?"

"Yes, it does, Mr ...-?" said Ms Cunard.

"Clout," said Gavin. "Gavin Clout. Perhaps that didn't come out right..."

"I think you made yourself clear, Mr Clout," said Ms Cunard.

"Well, there are some decisions I think Sarah is better at handling than I am," said Gavin.

"I understand," said Ms Cunard. "However, I think you should understand that we have our own ethos here at Ealhswith School and I certainly feel that both parents should be involved in such a crucial decision."

"Yes, Miss Cunard, of course," said Sarah. "That's why I brought him. I didn't tell him this was where I went to school because I wanted it to be a surprise."

"Indeed?" said Ms Cunard not pointing out that their stories contradicted.

"Yes," said Sarah Wang.

"Well I am not easily surprised, Sarah," said Ms Cunard, "but I have to say your choice of husband does surprise me a little... even if your attire does not.... But it is always good to see old girls. Now Lucy will take you round and I will see you later."

Chapter 16

There were six adults in the final group. As well as Gavin and Sarah there was a slightly elderly couple who said they were going round because they'd agreed to pay the fees of their grandchildren and a man and woman in their late forties who looked like extras from 'Dynasty' and seemed to find the whole place amusingly quaint. Fortunately they were quite extravert which meant that Gavin didn't feel he had to think of any questions to ask. A further added good fortune was that they were also racists so didn't strike up any conversation with Sarah Wang just eyed her quietly as though she represented some form of disease. All of this made Gavin feel more comfortable. Making him feel uncomfortable was the knowledge that at some point they'd presumably come to Emily's classroom and at this point he'd have to think of something to say that was coded enough to intimate to her that he wanted to talk to her privately and why but not so obvious that everyone else in the party would just think him even weirder than they did now. Lucy took them to one classroom at a time until eventually this fateful moment came.

"This," said Lucy with the enthusiasm of a clinically depressed lemming "is the C.D.T. room". Then she knocked on and opened the door into a classroom full of work benches, vices and the usual paraphernalia of craft, design and technology. Here the lady Gavin assumed from the job Terry had told her she had must be Emily stood explaining how to use a use a drill to a bunch of third year girls (that's year 9 for readers in the 21st century). At least it looked like it might be Emily. One of the tiny flaws in Terry's plan was that he hadn't actually been able to supply Gavin with a photograph of any kind of Emily except the one he'd shown him of her in 'the Forum' pub. While this was indeed a photograph with Emily in it her face was not the most graphically and clearly depicted element of her that photograph. Gavin cogitated ... was it her? He often doubted himself even when he knew things for facts.

"I'm just teaching them how to use the pillar drill safely," explained Emily to the visiting throng of parents and Gavin and Sarah.

Gavin realised he had to make conversation somehow to establish her name.

"What make of drill is it?" was the question he came up with.

The lady looked at him blankly then at the tool and then said "It says 'Cromwell' but I don't know anything more than that ... it was here when I came."

Gavin couldn't think of anything more to say but realised he had to say something so said "Yes sorry, I was just curious ... because I'm trying to buy a new one for work." It was a lie so bad it made him cringe.

"Really?" said Emily.

"Yes," said Gavin.

Gavin considered how he could expand the conversation from here but he seemed to have gone down a verbal cul-de-sac. He scratched his head. Dandruff flaked off. "Sorry," he said. "I'm a scientist," he added as if it was relevant, "Gavin Clout."

"Nice to meet you, Mr Clout," said Emily. "I'm Mrs Ling."

So it was her. Gavin gave a sign of relief and then worried this reaction might be too obvious. Now he had to think of a way of asking if he could meet her privately in front of all these people. This was another part of Terry's plan that neither of them had worked out. "Perhaps we can discuss drills later," said Gavin realising as soon as he said it that it sounded weird and awful.

"Why?" said Emily.

Gavin was completely stuck. After some moments all he could think of was "Sorry".

"About what?" said Emily.

"I mean ... sorry ... I forgot you said you didn't know anything about drills," said Gavin. "I get enthusiastic about drills some times. A geologist has to have a good drill." He knew he was talking total bollocks and it wasn't sounding good.

"You're a geologist?" said Emily

"Yes, sorry, I'm disturbing you," said Gavin.

"It's okay, Mr Clout, you're allowed to ask questions that's what the open day is for," said Emily.

"Yes, of course," said Gavin. "Sorry we're detaining you...-" He turned to go very suddenly but he had forgotten that he should not turn very suddenly because he was a sufferer of Meniere's disease – a condition which he concealed poorly.

He slipped. He fell. He hit his head on a work bench as he went down.

Gavin's head hurt as he lay dazed on the floor but as Emily rushed over he started to consider that sometimes there were situations where planning and scheming are not enough. Sometimes it is down to fate. He'd drawn an ace. But how was he going to play it?

Chapter 17

"Are you alright?" said Emily helping him up.

"I think so ...," said Gavin.

"You're not. You're bleeding," said Emily.

Emily went to her stock cupboard and pulled down the battered tin that said "First Aid". She opened it. There were no plasters. She had used the last of them the other day when Isabel Radley had somehow managed to hammer a nail into another C stream child instead of a piece of wood.

She thought up a plan on the spur of the moment. She would ask Lucy to take the rest of the visitors to the next room and this would mean that the number of people seeing her scratching around trying to find a plaster would be limited. "Lucy, I think you'd better take the rest of these people to the next room. Not you ... you come with me Mr Clout and we'll get you patched up."

"This way," said Lucy to the other members of the party with the gentle efficiency of Albert Pierrepoint leading Ruth Ellis to the scaffold.

The potential Ealhswith School parents traipsed off after her rubbernecking a bit to see what had happened to Gavin.

"Have a read of page 215 of your textbooks while I attend to Mr Clout," Emily told the class. She had no idea what was actually on page 215 of their textbooks. Emily led Gavin to the stock cupboard.

"It's okay," said Gavin.

"It's not your dripping blood on your suit," said Emily.

She noticed that Sarah Wang followed them to the stock cupboard and wondered who she was. Then she realised who she must be. She was somewhat perplexed by the lack of interest Ms Wang showed in the injury her husband had endured.

"Doesn't look as though it needs any stitches but... Hold this bit of cotton wool on it. I'm just nipping next door to see if Mrs Smith has any bandages. You can look after him can't you...-?"

"Sarah," said Sarah.

"Okay, I'll be back in a tick."

"Yes," said Sarah.

"Yes," said Emily and disappeared.

Chapter 18

"Well," said Gavin, "I suppose the plus side is I've got her alone."

"Yes," said Sarah.

"I suppose the problem is how do I bring up the subject...?"

"Yes," said Sarah.

"...without it sounding too odd."

"Yes," said Sarah.

"Any ideas?"

"No," said Sarah. "That's your problem. I'm just paid to stand around."

Gavin was still trying to think of an appropriate opening gambit when Emily returned. He'd have to do it now. Emily put some T.C.P. on his head using the cotton wool.

"There," she said. "It's only a small cut... seems to have more or less stopped weeping now."

She put a bandage over it. Gavin enjoyed this.

"Thank you," said Gavin. "By the way I think we may have a mutual friend."

He tried to make it sound natural. It didn't. It sounded awful. He knew it. Emily started.

"Have we?" she said.

"Terry Scott," said Gavin.

"What?" said Emily. "I don't know him," she added quickly. "That is I do know him I've see him on television like everyone else but I don't understand...-?"

"Well, he told me he knows you...-"

"Fuck off," she said firmly but quietly so that the girls wouldn't hear.

Gavin did not but said "There are photos and ...-"

"I know. That perv Chu took them. I don't want to discuss it."

"I know but surely...-" began Gavin.

Emily pulled up her sleeve. Her arm had bruises on. They were old but they still looked painful. "As you can see Humphrey doesn't like me talking to Terry...-"

"I'm not here to blackmail you," said Gavin which also sounded awful to him. "I'm just here as a mutual friend ... so that ...because .... Terry's being blackmailed."

"So what?" said Emily.

"Here's my business card. Think about it," said Gavin.

She took it. He felt he had made a mistake giving it.

"Am I intruding?" said a voice. It was Ms Cunard.

Gavin swung round and due to Gavin's balance problem he almost knocked Sarah and Emily off their feet as he did so.

"I heard a commotion of some kind come from here?" she said.

"It's okay," said Sarah. "Gavin just fell over."

"It's nobody's fault," said Gavin. "I've got a condition. I fall over sometimes. It's my balance ... I'm unbalanced ... sometimes."

"I have no doubt you are somewhat unbalanced, Mr Clout," said Ms Cunard, "but I'm glad you're not seriously hurt."

"Just a cut," said Gavin with a nervous laugh.

"Well, Lucy's only two doors down the corridor if you want to rejoin the party..." said Ms Cunard.

"Yes, of course," said Gavin leading Sarah Wang away.

Chapter 19

"Are you alright, dear?" Ms Cunard asked of Emily Ling.

"Yes, I'm fine," said Emily.

"You didn't look fine," said Ms Cunard. "I saw your arm."

"It's bruised, yes."

"Anything you want to tell me, dear?"

"I'm not a child, Miss Cunard."

"No, you're not dear. I didn't mean –"

"It's alright," said Emily. "I was wrong to speak to you like that."

"That's okay, Emily," said Ms Cunard.

"I understand why you're concerned, Miss Cunard, but really I'm alright. It's just a bruise ... I fell over... when taking Lacrosse. Gavin isn't the only person who's got bad balance."

Ms Cunard considered. The bruises didn't look fresh to her and she suspected Emily played Lacrosse well enough when she was ready even though she pretended not to understand it to get out of covering games lessons. She may indeed not have grasped all the rules but Emily didn't strike Ms Cunard as someone uncoordinated. Ms Cunard's pretence that she had been attracted by a 'commotion' was of course a half truth. She had thought there was something odd about Gavin and Sarah on first meeting them and had been following their party at a discrete distance observing what they might be up to. She had entered the room after Gavin had fallen over and had overheard part of their conversation but did she want to give away that she knew more than she was letting on at this moment?

"Yes, well, I'm sorry to have bothered you, Emily. I'll leave you to it. You've obviously got a lot to do."

"Yes, thank you, Miss Cunard."

Chapter 20

After a tedious and uninspiring tour Lucy led them back to the same classroom they had departed from. The ubiquitous Ms Cunard was already there to greet them, force feed them tired looking sandwiches, grill them individually for feedback and try to convince them to sign on the dotted line and keep Ealhswith School afloat.

Gavin having achieved his mission of making contact with Emily Ling thought the time had come to execute a swift but discrete exit strategy but despite his unsubtle avoidance tactics Ms Cunard forced him into a kind of semi-public interview by nifty footwork - stepping in front of him just as he and Sarah were slipping towards the door.

"I'm sorry about your head," she said.

"It's nothing," said Gavin cheerfully. He was aware that if he didn't pay the piper by offering up some information there might be some kind of consequences. He wasn't quite sure what those consequences would be. After all he hadn't done anything illegal, had he? "Kind of you to ask."

"Merely good manners. Respect for etiquette is something we instil here," said Ms Cunard. "So you know Emily, do you?"

"I know a friend of hers," said Gavin.

"And of course I know Sarah," said Ms Cunard smiling at Sarah. "Quite a coincidence really."

"Not really," said Sarah. "After all I did go to school here."

"Yes, you did ... didn't you?" said Ms Cunard, "... but you didn't tell your husband that."

"No," said Sarah.

"Why?" asked Ms Cunard.

"I didn't want him to be prejudiced," said Sarah taking only slightly too long to answer. "I wanted him to see it as just another school not as my school. I wanted him to think of it as Jane's new school not the school that his wife had been to."

"Very sensible," said Ms Cunard. "How long have you been with Gavin then?"

They both looked at each other unsure which of them should answer.

"Five years," said Sarah just as Gavin was opening his mouth.

"And she's never told you where she went to school?" asked Ms Cunard.

Being quick at mental arithmetic Gavin was painfully aware that if their back story made any sense which it did not then actually they must have been together at least 11 years to generate a child of the correct age for entry into the establishment unless of course the children that didn't actually exist were adopted? So "Well, two years actually," Gavin corrected her. "We've been living together five years but we only got married two years ago when Sarah had Lucy before that Lucy was married to someone else...-"

"I see," said Ms Cunard.

"Not that we're not religious ...," said Gavin wondering why he was trying to prevent an imaginary child from not being accepted by the school.

"We're not a religious school," said Ms Cunard.

Gavin was about to say 'that's good' but he checked himself when he realised that might not be appropriate.

"We're actually humanist in our approach to education. That is why the school is called "Ealhswith". The school celebrates the great women of history in order to encourage the next generation of girls to become the next great women of history. Ealhswith as I'm sure you're aware was the wife of King Alfred the Great. Alfred and Ealhswith were great promoters of education and as well as having five children Ealhswith built St. Mary's Abbey at Winchester which became one of the great learning institutions of the region. It is important for girls to have a sense of their own history so Ealhswith School's house structure is built around the wives of the first English Kings ... there is Ecgwynn House, Ælfgifu House, Æthelflæd House, Wulfthryth House and of course Ealhswith House celebrating the important contributions of women to the formation of our nation ... but I'm sure Sarah must have told you that. Or should I say will tell you about that?"

Gavin and Sarah glanced at each other.

Ms Cunard smiled.

"Still we don't all live in the past ... we forget things. Or we don't forget them..."

"Yes," said Gavin.

"Anyway, I hope your visit here has been informative."

"Yes," said Gavin, "....very."

"Here's a prospectus." Ms Cunard gave Gavin a wilting piece of paper.

"Thank you," said Gavin.

"We'd better go darling," said Sarah before remembering to add, "...it was nice to meet you ...again, Miss Cunard."

"It was nice to meet you again, Sarah. What are you doing these days?"

"I'm ......sort of a hostess."

"Sounds glamorous," said Ms Cunard.

"Yes, thanks again," said Sarah.

"Yes, of course," said Ms Cunard. "Sorry I've been monopolising you haven't I? I must circulate..."

Gavin and Sarah escaped through the now open doorway. Gavin felt pleased with himself. He had done a bit of his bit to atone for breaking the moonflask ... even if it hadn't gone very well he could tell Terry that he'd tried and that was what was important. They walked along the red gravel drive to the car.

Eventually Gavin had to ask "Why didn't you tell me you went to school here?"

"You didn't ask," said Sarah Wang. "And I didn't know where I was going until I got here. Terry just said 'a school'. That could be any school, couldn't it? Anyway I didn't know Miss Cunard would still be here, did I? You'd have thought she'd have moved on by now or something..."

"Oh well," said Gavin as they reached the car. "It's over now."

He put the car keys in the lock.

"No, it isn't," said a voice.

Chapter 21

Gavin turned suddenly and almost fell over again.

It was Emily.

"I want to know what you're doing here?" she said.

"What?" said Gavin.

"What do you mean what? Didn't you come to talk to me?" said Emily.

"Well, yes," said Gavin. Somehow she had followed them to the car without walking up the drive he hypothesised in his head.

"Well here I am now ...with no one to overhear us," said Emily.

"Yes," said Gavin.

"So what do you want to know...?" asked Emily.

"Well ... I just came to ask if you wanted to talk to Te..."

"Of course I want to talk to him but I'm not allowed, am I?" said Emily. "Humphrey would do his nut ... and when he does that he'll start ..."

Gavin gave her a blank look because his mind was truly blank.

"I know what you're thinking I should leave him ... well, I will when it suits me. He's not all bad and he pays for the boys to board which is the only way they can get into Whyteleafe. He's actually alright ...if you don't cross him."

Gavin continued to stare blankly because he still couldn't think of anything to say.

"There are worse husbands. Anyway what do you know?" she concluded as though Gavin had been interrogating her when in fact it was the other way round if it was any way round.

"Nothing," said Gavin.

"Exactly," said Emily.

"We haven't got the moonflask," said Gavin coming to what he thought might be the point. "That's what I came to say. I suppose..."

"But you must have it," said Emily.

"We don't..." said Gavin.

"Did someone steal it?" asked Emily.

"No," said Gavin. "It got broken."

"Broken? How? By who?"

"Me ... an accident."

"You broke a Ming dynasty vase?" said Emily. She could not disguise her shock.

"Well, as you know I've got bad balance and ... that's why I'm here really," explained Gavin. "You see Terry doesn't know what to do..."

"And how am I supposed to know what to do?"

"I don't know," said Gavin, "but if you did it might help? Otherwise Simon Chu will publish that photo... and you're in it too. I mean ... you do care about Terry?" said Gavin feeling as though he was doing several people's dirty work at once.

"He's someone I hook up with ... I ... don't want anything bad to happen to him but he understands he's not my ..."

"Your...?"

"Anything... we just fuck sometimes. So he can fuck off."

"I understand," said Gavin.

"Do you?" asked Emily.

"Probably not ...," admitted Gavin. "I'm not ...I haven't ... that is I ... well...-"

"You're a virgin, aren't you?" said Emily

"He's with me," said Sarah.

"Yeah right. You may be standing next to him," said Emily, "but you're not really his ...anything ... are you?"

"How do you know?" said Sarah.

"Eyes," said Emily.

There was a pause during which Sarah looked as though she might say something but didn't.

"Anyway please do me a favour and get lost," said Emily. "Even if I wanted to help you I really can't. There's nothing I can do to help you. It's just business and I don't get involved in Humphrey's business and I certainly don't get involved with Chu's whatever that fuckwit is up to."

"Oh," said Gavin.

"I won't tell him you broke the moonflask though ... though I'm sure he'll work that out for himself ...eventually. Nice to have met... Bye." Emily suddenly turned and went back the way she'd come up behind them unseen - along a small avenue of trees that led down the side of the building.

Sarah and Gavin said nothing.

Chapter 22

As Emily was about to pass Ms Cunard bent her knees to lower herself below the level of the window of the groundsman's shed from which she had been observing them. She toppled back into a pile of lacrosse sticks inside and junk and tins of half used paint and a few cobwebs. Hopefully no one heard. She was not injured.

She had overheard parts of their conversation through the uneven glass pane but none of it made any sense to her. Moonflasks? She had no idea yet what moonflasks were or what you were supposed to do with them but she could look this up later. It looked to her though that Emily was in trouble. Humphrey had clearly been hitting her again. Sometimes she thought she should ring up the police and tell them about Humphrey and her suspicions but other times she felt that actually it wasn't her place to get involved or that if it was she should solve the problem without their help. Besides which it might not look too good for the school if one of their teachers started spending a lot of time down the Magistrate's Court and she didn't want to have to find another C.D.T. teacher and she didn't want to get Emily into too much trouble.

She cast her eyes around the detritus of school maintenance with which the maintenance shed was littered. She always feared that one day this would be all that would be left of the school. Bits and pieces scattered around sheds and junk shops like all that stuff in 'Fred's Clearance Centre'. The people die, the institutions crumble and change and all that's left is accumulated junk and muddle.

Chapter 23

"Well," said Gavin to Sarah. "I suppose that really is over."

"Yes," said Sarah disinterested.

"Well, we did the best we could," said Gavin as he clambered in the mini.

"Yes," said Sarah as she walked round the back side of the car to the passenger door. Her eyes scanned around the estate as she did so – down the red gravel drive, down the road, up the road, over the road, down the hedges. It was eerily quiet as the estate often was because, of course, through traffic was discouraged from coming through the Mapin estate by various clever pieces of landscape design, gates and humps.

She stood outside the car a moment. She looked back at her school. She remembered singing Ealhswith's song. She remembered having to wear the hideous yellow and purple uniform. She remembered the inter-house lacrosse matches. She had another look round. And then she decided she was going to do what Simon Chu had instructed her to and got in the car.

"Where shall I drop you?" asked Gavin.

"Nowhere. I'll drop you somewhere," said Sarah and before Gavin could ask what this meant he found his mouth and nose smothered with a cloth.

Gavin struggled.

When Simon Chu had explained to Sarah Wang that he wanted her to bring Gavin back to him even if it meant rendering him unconscious she had insisted she was not very good at violence.

"Drug him if you have to," Simon had said.

They had discussed what with. It had been easy for Simon to say "chloroform" but as Sarah had pointed out they didn't have any.

"You've chemistry A level. Make some," Simon had said.

Again this had sounded very simple to him and Sarah had had to explain that this wasn't simple at all and how she felt that this was above the call of duty. All the same she had duly mixed some Domestos with some Smirnoff and produced something that they both agreed if it wasn't chloroform was difficult to bottle and extremely irritating to their eyes. The process of getting some of this stuff in a hip flask was so painful that Sarah had had no intention of testing it with a dry run. She had decided she'd just have to use it one time and see what happened. No rehearsals.

Now she was attempting to actually put Gavin under or incapacitate him for real though she was hitting the problem that the chloroform (if that's what the substance she'd made was) didn't seem to do this very quickly. Added to this Gavin was holding his breath. Neither she nor Simon had done any research into how long it actually takes to 'put someone under' in this way. However, obviously she couldn't give up now having come this far. During the long struggle her eyes happened to glance at the back seat. There was her only quick solution to this predicament. The steering lock. She grabbed it with her free arm and awkwardly wacked Gavin round the head with it the best she could in such a confined space.

She did not know whether it was hard or soft enough a blow. Perhaps she had hit him too hard and caused brain injury but at least Gavin passed out and collapsed over her and the dashboard. She looked at his seemingly lifeless body and listened for breathing. The chest was still going up and down. He was still living. It was odd but she hadn't been that attracted to him when he was conscious and talking. Perhaps this was the best way to experience men in general. Indeed as she tied his helpless silent body up it started to cross Sarah Wang's mind that actually he was not an unattractive middle aged man if only he washed a bit more and took better care of himself. Odd that she hadn't been at all attracted to him when he was conscious and talking. She did not worry that he might suffer a subdural hematoma.

Chapter 24

Miss Cunard was exiting the shed when she looked back at the mini. There seemed to be some kind of scuffle going on inside it that was causing it to rock. She didn't have her long distance glasses on so she started to walk towards it so that she could see clearer. Before she had got very far it suddenly reversed out of its space and speed off as fast as you can go in a mini without speed bumps damaging the undercarriage.

Chapter 25

The picture in front of Gavin's eyes jumped like an old film that has a bad splice in it. He was on his own back seat. He couldn't move. He was stuck staring at the floor. There were toffee wrappers behind the passenger seat. The blanket he kept in the boot was on top of him. Gradually he realised where he must be.

Gavin's attempts to escape from his own mini were quite helpless. Sarah had tied his hands to the bottom of the passenger seat and his feet to the bottom of the driver's seat so he couldn't attract attention by wriggling about. It felt quite a professional job. Gavin could not sit up however hard he tried. He was stuck in an awkward position and his head throbbed. He was only just awake. He felt sick but fortunately wasn't sick as he was gagged.

The car journey was interminable. Gavin had no idea where they were going and with the blanket over him couldn't even look up for any clues. When he started to wriggle Sarah pulled over, told him not to and put some kind of paper bag over his head then covered him up again. He cursed himself for having such a small car although not with his mouth obviously for that had a gag in it. If he'd had a bigger ego and salary he'd have had a bigger boot or back seat to roll about in. He did not.

Gavin wondered why someone would kidnap him like this. No one had ever kidnapped him before and while he had been doing unusual things he couldn't imagine that they were interesting enough to someone else to warrant this bizarre behaviour. Besides which if someone wanted to talk to him why didn't they just ask ...?

Eventually the car stopped. Gavin was unsure if they had driven half way across London or a few streets. He had no sense of time. He heard Sarah Wang get out of the car. She slammed the door. More time passed. Again Gavin could not quantify how long. Gavin made another hopeless attempt to break free and then a couple more.

Eventually both the car doors opened. Two people got back in and slammed their doors. They put their seat belts on. One Gavin suspected was Sarah. The other one had a slightly foreign sounding voice. They didn't speak to each other much. They took him on another short car journey. Then they both got out and left him there.

More time passed. It was getting dark. Gavin was getting cold. It started to rain. It didn't make Gavin wet because he was inside the car but he could hear the rain drumming on the roof of the car and felt cold. He was glad of the blanket. He wondered if he died if anyone would miss him. Probably his mother and his sister. He probably wouldn't die. He didn't know what would happen. If Sarah had wanted to abduct him surely she could have done that before they'd been to the school? Was it really a coincidence that Sarah had been to that school and was recognised by Miss Cunard? There were a lot of questions and not a lot of answers. Eventually late in the evening some people – presumably the same two people - came back to the mini. The door opened and the seat was pulled forward. He was dragged out.

The two people dragged him along the ground between them presumably into what was some kind of building. All Gavin could see was bits of the ground through the gap at the bottom of the bag. It seemed to him that some of the tiles he was moving over were granite but there wasn't anything he could see or deduce that was much clearer than that. He had some granite flooring in his own kitchen which was a bit of a coincidence. Eventually he was sat down in a chair.

"Now then," said a voice. "Sarah tells me you've been a problem."

Someone removed the gag but Gavin did not know what to say so he coughed.

Chapter 26

The other side of the bag Simon Chu and Sarah Wang looked at Gavin. Neither of them had actually done this before. That said Simon presumed that Sarah presumed that Simon had done this before because that's what he'd told her.

Not everything Simon told Sarah was actually true. It was true that Simon had once been in a Triad but then that had been a very long time ago in Hong Kong and it had seemed almost everyone was in a Triad in those days. It was just a thing people did for a while or a thing he and his friends did for a bit. You joined the Triads like you joined the Scouts - for something to do or because it was culturally expected. Anyway that's why Simon had or what he had told himself about why he had. Not that he was exactly ashamed. Simon still told everyone else who would listen when he felt like it that he had been (or indeed sometimes that he still was) "in a Triad" mainly because it sounded cool. When he had been in a Triad it had often seemed odd to Simon that an awful lot of people talked about it given the whole point was supposedly absolute loyalty and secrecy. Then again since much of the money of the Wo Shing Wo came from protection rackets of one kind or another there was a limit to how secret it could practically be since it is not actually that easy to extort money from people who don't know who you are. Career-wise he'd got as far as the 36 oaths and even become a 49er but it wasn't long after that that his parents had died as a result of Typhoon Hope (or so he'd been told) and he'd been forced to leave Hong Kong. After the funeral his uncle and aunt had "adopted him" and taken him to London and so his career with the Wo Shing Wo had sort of naturally petered out. Given that the Wo Shing Wo was an organisation that made a big deal about how no one ever left so it had seemed odd to Simon that they'd made no effort to keep in touch with him after his departure. He'd thought it'd be like trying to leave the Mafia but his local Red Pole hadn't even bothered to send Simon a threatening postcard.

"Well ...?" said Simon.

Gavin still said nothing.

"Don't you have anything to say?" said Simon.

After a moment Gavin said "What do you want me to say?"

"I'm Simon Chu," said Simon Chu as though this should impress his hostage. "Sarah here tells me that you broke my moonflask."

Again Gavin said nothing.

Simon Chu gave him a hard stare even though of course Gavin couldn't see it.

Eventually Gavin said "I need a wee".

This wasn't exactly as Simon had planned it. Then again while Simon Chu had a plan it wasn't completely constructed yet and had several potential flaws he hadn't thought out yet. Simon wasn't stupid it's just that you couldn't honestly call him a criminal genius. Simon believed that if you didn't do things when the opportunity arose because you cogitated too much you might miss opportunities that may never come again. There is something to be said for this philosophy. There is also much to be said against it. Simon believed in muddling through. For example it had seemed a good idea to kidnap Gavin during daylight hours because that was when Sarah was going to be with him but neither of them had really realised they'd then have to wait until darkness fell if they wanted to get him from the car into the building unseen. As a result they had spent three hours in the pub waiting for it to get dark. And as a result of that Simon had had a skinfull and had lost the efficiency of thought that comes from sobriety.

"I have been in the car a long time. Sorry," said Gavin. "I do need a number one."

Simon was going to make him piss in his pants as a form of humiliation when he decided that actually he didn't want to tread in a load of piss or smell it so he said "Okay you can have a piss," as if he had decided to advance Gavin a small loan.

"I'd like to have a number two too if I may?" said Gavin.

"Don't push it," said Sarah Wang.

Simon thought this was some form of shifting negotiating position and was going to let Gavin shit himself when he decided that actually the smell of excrement was even less desirable than the smell of piss.

"Okay," he said.

Then, as always, the logistical problems hit him. How was Gavin supposed to go to the toilet with a bag on his head and his feet and hands tied up? Was this a ploy to escape? Simon considered. There wasn't really a reason for Gavin to have the bag on his head anymore except to create a feeling of disorientation so he took it off him.

Gavin's eyes squinted as they adjusted to light. And then he said "This is my flat."

"I know," said Simon Chu.

"But how did you know where I live?" said Gavin.

"A mate of his did a search on your number plate," explained Sarah.

"Yes," said Gavin, "but if you wanted to come here all you had to do was ask?"

"The Wo Shing Wo don't ask for things, Gavin. They take them," said Simon. Simon suspected what was going through Gavin's mind. He suspected Gavin was assessing the possibilities of physically overpowering him. He leaned forward extending a fist towards Gavin's face slowly. When it was about 12 inches away there was a sudden snapping sound and the blade of the flick knife he had been holding so Gavin wouldn't see it approaching within that fist sprung out just in front of Gavin's eyeballs.

Gavin scanned Simon's face. Gavin's face betrayed emotions.

Simon's face scanned Gavin's face. Simon's face betrayed no emotions. Simon lowered the knife to Gavin's feet. He cut the rope tying those feet together and then stepped away quickly indicating to the door with the knife. "Go on then," he said.

Gavin stood up. Unfortunately his legs were very wobbly and due to his poor balance he had great difficulty in standing upright. He fell down again banging his head on the music centre which broke his fall and indeed broke.

"I think he has a balance problem," said Sarah helpfully.

"Does he?" said Simon. Simon indicated to Sarah to help him stand Gavin up. She did.

"See ... that's how I broke the moonflask," said Gavin. "It was an accident."

"What?" said Simon.

"Well, ... how were we to know that there was a Ming moonflask in a bag of golf clubs?" said Gavin. "I mean ...that is ... I mean ... you have to admit it's a funny place to keep it? So ...-"

"Yes it is a funny place to keep it, isn't it?" said Simon as he and Sarah helped Gavin towards the smallest room. "And doesn't it seem odd to you that the one thing that Humphrey Ling's wife should decide to lend to Terry Scott is their golf clubs at just the precise time when that golf bag just happens to contain the moonflask that you say that you broke?"

As Gavin's hands were tied Sarah took his trousers and pants down which was slightly humiliating for both of them. Simon spun Gavin round and plonked him heavily on the loo.

Gavin shuffled into a more comfortable position and started to urinate. "I think it was," he said.

"Do you?" said Simon.

"Yes," said Gavin. "I mean Terry's got his faults but I think it was an honest mistake?"

"Was it?"

"Yes."

"You think he's been being honest?"

"Yes."

"Well, if he's so honest why was he round someone else's house fucking the man's wife?"

"Well," said Gavin, "...because he's a sex ma- ...because he thinks he's in love ... but that's an entirely different thing."

"Is it?" said Simon.

"I think so," said Gavin.

"Well, he certainly has a lot of sex," said Sarah.

"The agency you work for ...is it actually...-?" began Gavin.

"It's an escort agency," said Sarah.

"Perhaps I'm naïve but is that another name for...?"

"Yes, you are naïve, Gavin," said Sarah. "Terry uses us a lot. We supply women to a lot of the parties he likes to go to ...so we know him and his tastes intimately. Mr Scott is a very trusting soul. I'm sorry about your head by the way. It's not the kind of head I like having to take a steering lock to."

"That's okay," said Gavin for some reason.

"Of course he could be a duplicitous sex maniac," said Simon, "and honest in other areas of his life but here's the thing, Gavin... One possibility is as you say it's a complete accident that Terry picked up that bag and neither he nor Emily nor you knew anything about the moonflask being in that golf bag. Another possibility is that someone else apart from Humphrey knew that it was in there... So ...-?"

Gavin farted. "Sorry," he said. There was a loud plop and a lot of splattering and some farting.

The smell hit Simon's nostrils. It was putrid.

"Well," said Gavin, "the truth is I did break it by accident. You can ask the staff in 'the Forum' if you don't believe me. They saw...-"

"If I didn't suspect you're not lying we wouldn't be talking," said Simon. "You'd just be another of those middle aged men who drinks too much who's neighbours find them dead in their flat after they fell over and weren't discovered. I don't need to go all round 'the Forum' putting myself on offer ... I think a better plan is that you and Terry should help me together. You see the thing is this, Gavin... That moonflask is extremely rare ... but it's not unique ... and Humphrey Ling seems to have a supply of them. He's selling them to me saying they're above board but I know from the price he's selling them that they're not so the question is where are they coming from?"

"I don't know."

"Well you and Terry – you're going to find that out. Unless you can replace my merchandise...?"

"But," protested Gavin, "neither Emily nor Humphrey will talk to me or Terry."

"You're not being persuasive enough," said Simon.

"Can't you persuade him?" said Gavin

"I think you and Terry could get them to lower their guard more easily than us," said Simon.

"If we do does Terry get the negatives back?" asked Gavin.

"If you really have broken that moonflask you have a debt to the Triad, Gavin, that you must work it off," said Simon.

"Who decides when it is worked off?" asked Gavin.

"Me," said Simon.

"But he won't even talk to us?" said Gavin.

"Where there's a will there's a way. It's nothing personal, Gavin. I like you as a person. I think you're a decent guy ... but it's about respect. You find us Humphrey's source of priceless china or I'll break you like you broke several millions of my porcelain. Accidentally or in a way that will look like an accident. You figure it out. You're involved now. Oh and don't do anything stupid like call the police unless you want to have yet another accident."

"But...-"

"Sorry, Gavin, I'm not going to wipe your arse for you."

"Zài jiàn," said Sarah.

They left.

Eventually Gavin wiped his arse.

Chapter 27

"Emily," Ms Cunard said stealing up on her when the least people were in the staff room . "I wonder ... could I have a word with you in my office?"

Ms Cunard phrased her request as a question but it was pretty clear there was no choice. As Ms Cunard led her to her study down the hall Emily pondered on the fact that the staff all had to call Ms Cunard 'Miss Cunard' and not Patricia yet Patricia seemed to address them by their Christian names and not their surnames. When they reached the study (a rather grand title for a pokey little room that also doubled as a stock cupboard) Ms Cunard came obliquely rather than directly to the point. "It's okay, Emily, you're not in any trouble." This made Emily feel like one of the girls rather than a grown woman. "I just wanted to have a little chat because I was wondering how you were finding things. After all you haven't been here very long ... so I just wondered ...how you were finding it........... generally."

"I'm – it's okay," said Emily, "Miss Cunard."

"Good," said Ms Cunard taking a seat but not offering one to Emily.

"Yes, ...I'm ...happy ...here," said Emily.

"Good. Thank you for mucking in and taking games for us by the way."

"That's okay," said Emily.

"I would have asked Mrs Brown again but she's still a bit annoyed about the girls pushing her in the pool and I really don't want to have to suspend anyone again. Not that they don't deserve to be suspended but we really can't afford to lose any more girls. I am hoping that we can hold onto you for next year but you understand I can't make any promises. Things are ...quite difficult financially for Ealhswith but I'm sure I can trust you not to spread that about," said Miss Cunard.

"Yes," said Emily deciding to sit down without being asked. While Emily was not a games teacher but at Ealhswith School it was necessary more than sometimes for the staff to be flexible about the subject they taught particularly when another member of staff was off ill or just decided to walk out without giving notice. For some reason the latter of these two circumstances had occured recently and as a result Emily had found herself trying to teach Lacrosse. Emily had only a vague understanding of the rules of Lacrosse but Miss Cunard had told her it was not that complicated and so she'd assumed it must be like hockey. Armed with this simplistic analysis of the sport, a short guide to the rules and a whistle she had found in "lost property" Emily found herself spending an increasing number of periods "teaching" Lacrosse. Or at least listening to a random selection of unconvincing lies from a selection of different girls about technical fouls and how the offside rule was being broken.

"Well quite," said Miss Cunard. "If you can think of any ways in which we can raise more funds I'm always open to new ideas of course... however silly they may seem ... but anyway ... I wanted to ask you ... and I hope you don't think I'm rude asking by the way ...but ...well, the people who visited us on visitors' day. Do you remember the odd couple ... Miss Wang and clumsy man?"

"No," said Emily then... "Oh, yes, I vaguely remember." She was a bit distracted by the fact that Miss Cunard's dog 'Æthelred' was nuzzling at her feet licking her stockings and pawing at her shoes. Usually it sat in the middle of the room on a rug snoring quietly but it seemed to be attracted to her for some reason.

"What did you make of them?" asked Ms Cunard.

"Nothing much," said Emily.

"Only I saw you talking to them after they left..." said Ms Cunard.

"They had some more questions about C.D.T.?" said Emily.

"The clumsy one seemed to know you," said Ms Cunard.

"He knew someone who knew me," said Emily.

"Really?"

"Yes, someone called Terry ... I don't think you know them."

"And what with Sarah having been to the school and me recognising her and you knowing a friend of his that's quite a lot of coincides, isn't it?"

"Yes, I suppose it is," said Emily feeling lucky that Æthelred was just sniffing her not licking her now.

"You see," said Miss Cunard, "I became suspicious when I called Sarah 'Miss Wang' and she didn't say that that wasn't her name anymore when really if they were married she should be called 'Clout', shouldn't she? One might have expected her to correct me? So I had a check in the Electoral Register ...and it's odd but it seems that a Miss Emily Wang and a Mr Gavin Clout both still live in the area but at different addresses," said Ms Cunard.

"That is odd," said Emily.

"Yes, it is, isn't it?" said Miss Cunard. "Anything you'd like to tell me?"

"I really don't know anything. Sorry," said Emily. "I've only really met them that once ...and I only got talking to them because he fell over and injured himself."

"I'll be honest, Emily. You're not ... in any trouble, are you? I mean I've noticed the bruises on your arm and so have some of the other staff and so I said to them I would bring it up...-"

"It's okay, Miss Cunard. They were an accident ..." said Emily.

"No, they weren't ...were they?" said Ms Cunard coldly.

"...well, someone attacked me in a pub ...it wasn't my fault," improvised Emily.

"You were in a pub fight?" said Ms Cunard very coldly.

"It's okay," said Emily. "I put him out. I can look after myself."

"Yes ... Well, I would appreciate it if you could avoid pub fights. It might be bad publicity for the school if you were to end up down the local Magistrates Court. Particularly since I am the local Magistrate..."

"I'm sorry I can't really tell you any more about Miss Wang and Mr Clout but ... if you want I can ask Terry what he knows about them. If he knows anything..."

"Please do," said Ms Cunard.

Emily removed herself from the reach of Miss Cunard's dog's nose.

Chapter 28

The travelator to "the Forum" had broken down again which annoyed Terry as his back had been giving him a lot of pain recently. He had to walk the length of it. It seemed to break down a lot these days. He remembered when it didn't. On reaching the top Terry looked about the Whitgift Centre. It was grey and the concrete looked stained by rain. The evening was drawing in and the last shops were closing.

He shuffled inside the hexagonal pub. Gavin was waiting for him at the bar. Gavin had told him on the telephone of his ordeal and abduction. Terry still didn't believe it but he knew it was true. He thought of his only actual meeting with Simon Chu outside a first floor window dangling from a drainpipe and the lithe way he had been able to circumnavigate that house using only guttering, windowsills and sheer physical strength. In Terry's mind Simon Chu had metamorphosed from an athletic twenty-something to something of a superman. He knew this was silly.

Gavin welcomed him and ordered two pints of bitter and some crisps then they repaired to a window seat near a reproduction of 'Last Words of the Emperor Marcus Aurelius' by Eugène Delacroix.

"I really am sorry," Terry continued to apologise. "I wouldn't have asked you to go if I had known it would ...that he would ... be so ...that ...-"

"You weren't to know," said Gavin.

"Well, ... no," said Terry. "I suppose not ... I mean I've used the agency before ... how was I to know that Simon Chu has a relative that worked there? I mean I knew there were some Chinese people there but you don't expect ...-"

"No," said Gavin.

"I mean I'd be racist if I thought that, wouldn't I?" said Terry.

"Yes," said Gavin, "but ...-"

"But if I was racist what would I be doing going to an escort agency which was run by a Chinese woman...?" said Terry.

"I don't think you're racist," said Gavin, "but I'm not sure using Chinese escorts makes you not racist. I don't really know."

"Good," said Terry. "Whatever else people say about me I'm not that.... I think. I like women from all continents equally and ...-"

"There's no need to beat yourself up ... you couldn't have known there was a connection," said Gavin. "I certainly didn't suspect her of anything. Why should I?"

"Thanks for going," said Terry.

"I felt I had to try and help as ... well, I had broken the vase ...and ... well, I've been thinking about it and ..."

"Yes?

"I think we should go to the police," said Gavin. "I know you don't want to but I really think things are ...," Gavin lowered his voice and looked around, "...things are out of hand. This man Chu is in the Triads ... so he says. And he knew where I lived ...and ... with me in ...?"

"I can't." said Terry. "He's got that photograph, hasn't he?"

"Yes, I know...," said Gavin, "but ..."

"Have you any idea what that would do to my career if it got out?" opined Terry. "Most of the people round here probably think I'm married to June ... it'd ruin me... and I've got four daughters to support..."

"Well, I can still go and tell them about Simon Chu..."

"And what do you think they'll do?"

"Well," said Gavin, "they'll ...-"

"Exactly... He wasn't born yesterday. He and that Wang woman had it all worked out. They did it all so no one would see."

"I don't understand," said Gavin.

"Well, there's no evidence is there?" said Terry.

"Isn't there?"

"No, ... no one actually saw her abduct you did they?" said Terry. "There were no witnesses. All I have is a photograph and some verbal instructions to ring somewhere at a certain time and I did that ...and I haven't heard anything since then ...so there's nothing we can say he's done that proves anything ... all we have is one photograph ...and anyone could have taken that."

"Hum," said Gavin.

"And that's of me ...you know ... with Emily ...and then we'd have to explain what you were doing going to that school with a lady who works in one of our most undervalued professions. And ..."

Gavin sighed and dipped a crisp in his pint of bitter. Terry watched the bitter surround the crisp then soak into it till the crisp became soggy. That was how he felt ... like he was slowly dissolving in a cold brown liquid.

Gavin ate the crisp. "I suppose you're right," he said, "but we haven't got Chu's moonflask and he knows that we don't have any moonflasks so why all these... games? Why doesn't he leave us alone? I know he wants to know Humphrey's source of ceramics but how are we supposed to figure that out when Humphrey won't talk to you because... -?"

"He's a bully," said Terry.

"Is it that simple?"

"No. He's probably got other things planned."

"Like what?"

"I don't know. He probably hasn't thought of them yet."

"They're not really a plan then are they?"

"Well, no, but you know what I mean."

"Well, I've got a plan," said Gavin. "Suppose we gave him another moonflask ... supposing we found our own source and suppose we had our own one then ... we could tell him we'd got it off Humphrey .... or even find a replacement for the broken one ... That might work?"

Terry leant back to try and get comfortable which he really wasn't due to his back pain. He took another sip of his pint and another to help him swallow a painkiller that he took from a depressing looking pill box. "Gavin," he said. "It was priceless. They don't grow on trees..."

"I know it was very expensive but they're not actually priceless ...just very expensive. And they're not unique either. In fact it turns out there's quite a lot of them," said Gavin. "I read up on them a bit ... it's very expensive but not unique like a Penny Black," said Gavin.

"Penny Blacks?" said Terry.

"Yes, you've collected stamps, haven't you? It's like one of them ... Only a bit rarer. Or like a limited edition print ... but in pottery. Lots of them were made but not that many survive so they're expensive but there are still quite a lot of them left and that makes them more expensive. Or that's the way I understand it..."

"Perhaps... but I don't see where that gets us," said Terry.

"Well," said Gavin. "It means we stand a chance of finding another one."

"This sounds like an extremely long shot," said Terry.

"It's not that long," said Gavin. "I went to the library and did some research this morning on oriental ceramics... You see ... it did occur to me that it might be difficult to report Simon Chu to the police because of course there's no direct evidence against him. So it occurred to me that ... if we had another moonflask ...as bait as it were and we ... perhaps ...got him to steal it then ...if we reported him then ... then the police would have something else to charge him with when they arrested him. Being in possession...?"

"That's a bit of a long shot and he'd still have that photograph of me and Emily," said Terry.

"Yes, but unless he knows it's you that's responsible for putting him in prison why would he release that photograph to anyone? The money's not going to be a lot of use to him in prison?"

"But someone else might come across the photo or find it...-?" said Terry.

"I admit," said Gavin, "... that it's not a foolproof plan but I'm still sort of thinking it out a bit. I haven't actually done anything like this before."

"But where," said Terry, "would we get another moonflask? I mean we can't find out Humphrey Ling's source ...neither he nor Emily will talk to me ... or you so...-"

"That's easy," replied Gavin with a broad grin. "The Council have got loads of them."

"Say that again?"

"Yes, I was a bit taken aback myself," said Gavin. "But apparently they've got loads. They're in the Fairfield Halls. You've been on at the Fairfield Halls...?"

"Yes, I was in a panto there back in...-"

"Well, then," interrupted Gavin, " ... you've probably walked right past them. Some old millionaire named Riesco was into this oriental china stuff from China and he left a load of it and his house to the Council and the Council moved it out his house and put it on display in the Fairfield Halls. It's in the upstairs foyer in a lot of glass cases no one looks at."

"Are you suggesting we steal it? ...or some of it?" said Terry.

"Well," said Gavin, "... not steal exactly. Borrow. I mean the Council would get it back, wouldn't it? ...when Simon Chu's arrested with it? So it's not taking it with the intention of depriving the Council of it ... it's just ...-"

"Taking it with the intention of perverting the course of justice?" asked Terry.

"Well," said Gavin, "the thing with the police is I'm sure they do a good job most of the time but if ...as you say ... they're not able to bring people like Simon Chu to trial for a lack of evidence then it's a bit like New Zealand playing the West Indies ... if your umpire's Fred Goodall you need another."

"Yes," said Terry unconvinced. "I think I... \- wait while I get another round in."

Terry made his way to the bar turning over the events in his mind over and over again. Terry had come thinking that it would be him trying to manipulate Gavin into doing something again but now Gavin seemed to be the one doing the manipulating and planning. This disturbed Terry. He ordered another two pints and carried them back to be table.

"Er ...ah .. hum ...," said Terry sitting down. "So we ...appropriate one of the moonflasks in the Fairfield Halls and then we ...try and arrange for Simon Chu to get caught with it That's the plan, is it?"

"I suppose."

"And how do we steal it with all the people going in and out and that...?"

They sipped their pints.

"Well," said Gavin. "I thought that there is an artist's entrance and as you are an artist ... it might be you can get in after they'd ... I hadn't thought it out completely but....-"

"I'm not on there ...you can't just walk in just because you're an actor...-" protested Terry.

"I understand but ... it's all I've come up with planwise ...so far," said Gavin.

"Yes."

"At least let's go and look shall we?"

"Go and look?"

"At the moonflasks. 'Case the joint'," said Gavin, "...as I think they say in films."

Chapter 29

The cabinets that contained what remained on view of the remnants of Mr Riesco's collection were somewhat neglected. What items were on display were badly lit and had just been stuffed in by their unenthusiastic curators with very little thought because the Council just wasn't interested in the collection of porcelain Mr Riesco had lumbered them with.

To Mr Riesco it was his life's work to build his collection of porcelain and when he died to avoid death duties he left his house, garden and a huge sum of money to the Corporation of Croydon along with his porcelain. While the Corporation of Croydon were keen to get their hands on Mr Riesco's financial resources and large tracts of real estate at knock down rates they were not so keen on his porcelain. Mr Riesco had anticipated this situation and so made the main term of his financial donation a legal undertaking from the council that they would retain his porcelain collection in perpetuity and never allow it to be split up. Such is money and power.

And so it came to passs that although he had been a rampant right wing free market capitalist all his life at the point of death Mr Raymond Riesco became an ardent socialist. Having finally realised that "you can't take your porcelain with you when you go" he'd machinated a scheme whereby during his deathtime the Council would have to look after his porcelain possessions forever and would never be able to give them away or risk losing his land and lots of money. Lenghty legal documents insisted on this. And so it came to pass that his collection passed to that most neglected of all political constituencies called 'the people' on condition it never be split up under any circumstances. Yes it was very important to Mr Reisco that 'the people' had his porcelain - particularly if the people didn't particularly want it or were too philistine to be interested in the fact some of it might once have adorned Xuande Emperor's personal apartments.

Despite these sepulchral preparations it was not long before the Council had persuaded Mr Riesco's other heirs by various devious means to allow them to sell some of the collection anyway but there was still even at this time a large chunk of what the Council secretly regarded as future potential liquid assets left. After all, selling it all in one go would draw attention to the fact that the council were betraying their agreement with Mr Riesco so some of the collection had been put in storage awaiting the "right time to sell" in the hope that if the public didn't see it they would eventually not miss it when it was sold to bridge a budget deficit. The rest that was not in storage was in the five cases that stood on the upper landing of the Fairfield Halls where Terry and Gavin had gone to see them in situ ...

"See I told you they had some," said Gavin triumphantly waving his arms at a cabinet so enthusiastically that he almost lost balance.

Terry looked closely into the cabinet. The Council did indeed seem to have several moonflasks and one that looked almost exactly like the one Gavin had broken. Actually the design was quite a bit different but in Terry's mind when you'd seen one moonflask you'd seen them all.
Chapter 30

"Yes," said Terry. "They're good ...aren't they?"

He had no real idea how good they were or not but they looked nice to him and it sounded the thing to say.

"Yes, and the same historical era too," said Gavin pointing to the label down by the bottom of the moonflask that looked most like the one he had broken.

Terry bent down to read the label. He could read the words but they meant nothing to him. "Well," he said, "what do we do? We can't just ste- ...borrow it? The cabinet's locked and there are always people...-"

"Not at night," said Gavin.

"I'm not breaking in," said Terry.

"Can't you go in the Artists entrance and hide back stage somewhere till it's dark?" asked Gavin.

"But ... I'm not on," protested Terry. "I'm not in anything ... just because you're an actor it's not a magic door pass to every stage door...-"

"I understand that," said Gavin. "But you have played here before ...so you've been back stage and you might know where there are places where you might be able to hide and ...ways out and in ... and I'm sure we can think of a plausible explanation to get you in the back door ...if we think about it. I mean if you visited a friend who was on another production...-"

"I don't know ... how do I know who'll be on...?" asked Terry. "And even then I don't...-"

"I've got a programme," said Gavin helpfully. "There's bound to be someone."

"You've spent a lot of time thinking this out?" said Terry.

"That's true," admitted Gavin. "There's not much on at the office - they're threatening to put us on short time again - so I've had more time than usual to think this out...-"

Terry didn't know what to say but he knew he didn't want to do this so he said nothing.

"Well, we've got to do something," urged Gavin.

"I suppose so," said Terry.

"Good," said Gavin.
Chapter 31

Zhu Zhanji loved porcelain. At Jingdezhen there were sixty kilns dedicated to producing porcelain items for him and his court. Being Emperor, Zhu Zhanji (nee Emperor Xunade) set the trends and fashions throughout the whole of China whether he wanted to or not and very soon every upwardly mobile social climber in China also wanted Jingdezhen porcelain for their home.

There was a large export market for what became known as Jingdezhen ware but possibly the biggest driver to production was Xuande's own personal obsession with porcelain products. The Emperor Xuande simply loved porcelain. Lots of it. It didn't even particularly matter what object it was that was made. If it was porcelain, from Jingdezhen, and ideally blue or white the Emperor wanted one – or better still a dozen. It really did get to the point where the privy council of eunuchs of the court would say to one another "Oh no ...not another piece of blue and white Jingdezhen porcelain from the Emperor's own personal kilns ...where are we going to put this one?" As the quantity of blue and white porcelain from Jingdezhen increased to market and court saturation levels so it gradually started to seem less special to everyone – even the Emperor Xunade.

As a result the Emperor eventually got more picky in his personal ornamental porcelain selections. He wanted to eat his dinner not just off porcelain plates but off porcelain plates with particularly intricate designs on –plates that were not like what everyone else had. So melons, bamboo, dragons, flowers and yinyang symbols were hand painted painstakingly on his porcelain to ever more intricate designs. Sometimes Emperor Xuande would suggest some of these designs himself. Other times a design would surprise him and he'd demand more of that particular thing - but slightly different of course. And sometimes he'd say the Chinese for "Sorry mate, that one's a turkey" and a particular design would go suddenly out of fashion. Court sycophants would regularly purge their personal porcelain collections of out of fashion cups, plates and moonflasks.

A while before his interest in porcelain had turned into an obsession the Emperor Xuande had had a bit of a political argument with his Uncle Zhu Gaoxu. Actually it was quite a big argument and was settled by a medium sized battle and the execution of Zhu Gaoxu with fire torture and then also by executing six hundred of his officials for good measure. Just to make sure he wasn't being too lenient the Emperor decided to banish over 2000 more minor functionaries who might have been complicit in the uprising. After this he felt more politically secure and found time to look at some more porcelain. While the privy council of eunuchs did not ethically disapprove of familial exterminations those with siblings and relatives never-the-less felt quite strongly that it was a good idea to keep the Emperor distracted from home affairs. And if this could be achieved by ploughing more and more money into the production of ever more elaborate and beautiful porcelain for him in the hope it might keep him calm then that could only be a sound investment for the government. So the eunuchs made sure the government subsidised the porcelain industry ... a lot.

Chapter 32

Even at the best of times when he should be in one Terry felt as though he shouldn't be in Theatres. Now he really shouldn't be in one he felt he must positively ooze guilt from every pore. However, there seemed to be no problem. The man on the door recognised him as Terry off the television but was too busy admiring Samantha Fox's sixteen year old breasts on page three of the Sun to take an active interest in the lie Terry told him about needing to discuss agents fees with June. To make it look plausible he felt he had to have a conversation with June. Lying to June was not as easy but fortunately most of what Terry said to her was not lies - the only real lie was his reason for being there. Funny he never had all these qualms about lying to his wife but then he kind of suspected that she knew when he wasn't completely honest with her too. Terry suspected June suspected something.

Having played the venue several times before Terry had already worked out a hiding space. He had remembered you could go up on the roof and how to get there. He'd been up there once with Roy Castle when a very intolerant stage manager had told them they could not smoke back stage for health and safety regions. He had his coat this time but unfortunately when he was up there he discovered it was bitterly cold and he realised that he had this time to stay up there for nearly three hours to be sure of being seen by no one before the venue closed for the night.

Terry found a bit of shelter beneath the lightening rod but never-the-less the elements tortured Terry without mercy. It was winter and the wind howled. There was sleet. There were crashes of thunder. He wished he could hide inside but he feared that even sitting at the top of the staircase he would be prone to discovery so he crouched all evening in the small alcove next to the door where he imagined there was the most shelter even if most of the shelter was just in his imagination. All he could do was listen to the clock on the town hall strike every quarter of an hour. Each quarter of an hour seemed to last forever. Sleet fell. Rain fell. Wind howled. Time passed.

After a long time that I will not describe the requisite amount of time needed had passed and so Terry decided that it might be safe to go downstairs. Shivering and wondering if he had contracted a cold or hypothermia he made his way down the staircases and into the main foyer. It was as eerily empty as only large foyers can be. There was no one there now. Even the cleaners had gone ... he hoped. Terry was soaking wet. He realised he was leaving a trail of water behind him everywhere he went. This worried him. It was a problem he should have thought of. Again he started to think that the plan was not very well thought out. He crossed the lobby to the central staircase imagining that there must be someone else there somewhere. There didn't seem to be. He walked up the steps to the first landing. Nobody saw him ... he thought. He walked towards the cabinet. He removed the hammer from his pocket ready to smash the glass. He moved it back slowly trying to figure out just how fast he had to hit the glass in order not to break it but not the precious porcelain inside.

"Stop," said a voice.

Terry stopped.

"Don't break that."

Terry didn't break it. Terry looked in the direction of the source of the voice.

A figure emerged from the shadows. It took Terry some seconds to recognise it.

It was Humphrey Ling.

Instinct took over. Terry ran back the way he came – down the stairs. Humphrey ran after him. Humphrey was faster and fitter and soon caught up with Terry when Terry slipped over thanks to a puddle of water that he had left behind him on the way up the stairs.

Soon Humphrey loomed over him.

"Don't ... don't hurt me," said Terry.

"I wasn't going to hurt you," said Humphrey Ling.

"Well wanted to before," said Terry.

"I'm not going to hurt you," said Humphrey.

Terry having kept the hammer held up in a self defensive position. "What are you doing here?" he said.

"I work here," said Humphrey.

"You don't," said Terry. "You work at the BBC..."

"I work here as a volunteer. Most of staff here are volunteers. That's how the place works"

Terry considered. "But why are you here so late? ...and what were you doing...-?". Then he suddenly realised the truth. All the pieces of the puzzle fell into place. It was so simple he found he had to say it out loud. "This is where you've been getting your moonflasks from, isn't it?"

"Yes."

Terry moved away from Humphrey, rolled onto his knees and stood up. "That's what you're doing here?" said Terry indicating with the hammer. "You steal your moonflasks from here ...and then sell them on to Chu?" Terry looked Humphrey up and down. Humphrey was in his Fairfield Halls steward's uniform. Terry felt stupid for not thinking of any of this before.

"Well," said Humphrey, "how many sources of Ming moonflasks can there be in Croydon?"

"Still ... Simon Chu hasn't worked it out yet?" said Terry with a nervous laugh.

"Simon's thick ...or ignorant. Oh I know he thinks he's the great Triad boss but he isn't really. He's just an art student who gets above himself because he used to be in a Triad or something years ago ... they'll take anybody. He's a nobody. He lives with his uncle and aunt ... has done since his parents died and he moved here from Hong Kong ...he's a sprog with big ideas..."

"Why doesn't anyone notice?" said Terry.

"That the moonflasks are being stolen? Well, I don't break any glass for one thing. And they don't exactly advertise that the stuff's here."

"Yes, but someone must have an inventory somewhere?" said Terry.

"No, not really," said Humphrey. "No one seems to care. There have been inventories of course but between you and me no one cares. That's why I felt free to help myself. I'm sure the Xuande Emperor wouldn't mind if he was here. He'd want his porcelain to be in the hands of those who appreciated it. Those who had time to look at it ... in the hands of people who loved it and if I didn't steal it someone else would."

"So Chu really doesn't know you get it from here?" said Terry.

"Of course he doesn't," said Humphrey. "Come with me..."

"I'm sorry?" said Terry.

"Come with me," said Humphrey. "Come on. I'm not going to attack you or anything. You'll be quite safe. Come on."

Humphrey ascended the stairs again to the first landing.

Terry followed him warily.

"It's okay you can bring your hammer with you I trust you not to crack my head in."

Terry reached the landing. Humphrey beckoned him round a corner into a corridor and showed him a section of wall. Then from his pocket he produced a key and with the key he opened a large cupboard that you wouldn't have known was there at a casual glance. Inside the cupboard was full of porcelain objects. Ming Dynasty, Qing Dynasty, moonflasks, bowls, polychrome enamelled ruby-backed cups... Terry didn't know what they were all called but he knew one thing – he was amazed.

Humphrey shut the door as quickly as he had opened it. "Only forty per cent of the collection is ever on display at one time. The council were too tight to build cases for it all. So most of the time a large chunk of it is left in cupboards like this... collecting dust. The Xuande Emperor wouldn't want that, would he?"

"No," said Terry thinking he had no idea what the Xuande Emperor would or wouldn't like.

"So we're actually doing him a favour by stealing some of it, aren't we?" reasoned Humphrey.

"I suppose so...," said Terry, "if you put it like that".

It disturbed Terry that Humphrey talked about the Xuande Emperor as a living person.

"Well then..."

"So you just take some and ... sell it?"

"No, you need some contacts in the trade. Mine's Fred..."

Chapter 33

If Humphrey wanted something doing he would often pop in about this time. Usually it was small items for a production. Fred would stay a while with him and discuss what had come in as well as what he thought he could lay his hands on. Or in the last resort manufacture... not everything you saw on television needed to be the real thing and Fred could often fake some items cheaper than those in house. So Fred was not surprised to see Humphrey enter his shop but he was surprised that as well as himself Humphrey had brought along as a rather dishevelled looking man with wispy hair who he'd never seen before and Terry Scott who he'd seen before on television.

"Hello," said Humphrey. "I hope you don't mind I've brought a bit of an entourage with me."

"Not at all..." said Fred emerging from behind his counter to shut the door behind them and turning the 'OPEN/CLOSED' sign round. "Very nice to see you again, Humphrey..."

"This is my Director Gavin...," lied Humphrey.

"Hello," said Gavin shaking Fred's hand so firmly he almost fell over.

"And I'm sure you've seen Terry Scott before."

"Ah yes, Mr Scott," said Fred, "big admirer of your work."

It was the first bland phrase meaning nothing that came immediately to mind. Fred hardly ever watched TV. He resented not being on it enough. Although he was not a celebrity himself he had never-the-less he had managed to make a bit of a name for himself with a few appearances on the "Antiques Roadshow". He had got this gig through Arthur Negus who had long been an admirer of Fred's uncanny ability to come across rare and unusual pottery and porcelain. Arthur's feelings of bonhomie towards Fred where not completely reciprocated by Fred which was odd because Fred hadn't done too badly out of what might almost be called their friendship.

"Thank you," said Terry. "Humphrey always talks about your place and I really wanted to see it for myself."

"Good... so then what can I do for you gentlemen?" said Fred.

"Well," said Humphrey, "Terry here has a scene where he has to break a Ming Dynasty moonflask ...and we were wondering whether you could make us one."

"Yes," said Terry looking for and then at Gavin.

Terry looked back at Fred. Fred looked at Gavin. Gavin looked at Fred. Fred looked back at Terry.

"I mean obviously we can't afford a real Ming dynasty moonflask," added Terry.

"Why a moonflask in particular?" said Fred.

"We thought a vase would be a bit of a cliché," said Terry. "I know it's only a sitcom but we wanted something that ... you know ... would look a bit different ...might excite a bit of comment...?"

"I see," said Humphrey. "Had you anything specifically in mind?"

Terry waved to Gavin. Gavin had become distracted by a set of wooden mounted ammonites that he had discovered in a corner and had almost forgotten what he was meant to be doing there. The shop, although claiming to be an "Antique shop", also contained a large number of items that were the result of the many of the older citizens of Whyteleafe dying. For example there were 23 copies of the Peter Benchley's novel "JAWS".

Gavin noticing Fred's bemused looks put the ammonites down.

"Ah ... yes," he said suddenly and strolled over to Humphrey, Terry and Fred. In one of Gavin's waving arms he held a briefcase. He opened it up and produced four or five large colour prints photographs of a moonflask. "This is the sort of thing we're looking to have made."

"I see," said Fred picking them up and looking at them at arms length. "Well ... pottery ...porcelain ...erm ... Don't you have a prop department that does breakable pieces ...? I mean ...sugar glass or something? I thought that's how it was usually done. I mean ...it is for a sit com? How realistic do you want it to look?"

"Oh very," said Terry. "People can see the difference ..."

"Always put your money on the screen I tell directors," said Humphrey.

"And a very bad designer you'd be if you didn't," said Gavin. "The thing is it's big in the plot of this particular episode.... It doesn't have to look perfect but it just has to look ... plausible."

Fred smiled. "Well, you can make porcelain yourself of course ... this would be made out of kaolin and pegmatite..."

"Well, I'm sure you can get Kaolinite in England," said Gavin. "I think they used to mine it down in Cornwall..."

"You know something about porcelain?" said Fred.

"No," said Gavin. "Well, not exactly I just recognised the name. I studied geology at -... for A level."

"I see," said Fred. "Well, of course getting the kaolin is the easy bit... Of course the Europeans didn't know how to make porcelain for many centuries so China was the only source. They tried everything ...mixing glass and tin oxides but they couldn't find anything close. It wasn't until 1707 that Ehrenfried Walter von Tschimhaus and Johann Friedrich Bottger managed to make a German equivalent by combining clay with ground feldspar ...before that people had been using ground glass. So there are reasons why China had a highly specialised porcelain export market. No one else had the technology. The thing is if you wanted to make really authentic porcelain you'd need a kiln. And a good one ... it has to be fired at extremely high temperatures ...this is one of the reasons the English added cattle bones to their recipe to create bone china because it lowers the firing temperature."

"Yes," said Gavin, "all these things are from hydrous aluminium silicate?"

"Yes, indeed," continued Fred. "Most clays will vitrify ... that is develop glass like qualities ...if you fire them at a high enough temperature."

"How high?" asked Humphrey.

"Oh, you're looking at over 2000 degrees ... well over. You'd need a proper kiln and it's very slow and I think it'd be a specialist job ... and this is just for making any old piece of porcelain not one with all the elaborate design work on ...and of course there's the forming process ...?"

"But you can do it in theory?" asked Humphrey.

"Oh, yes, of course," said Fred. "There's always been a healthy ...or unhealthy market in fake Chinese porcelain. The question isn't really is it possible ... the question 's more ...why do you want me to make some? No one goes to the effort of making their own porcelain for a television program...?"

"Well, we're not experts," lied Terry. "I mean we didn't know what was involved until we came in...? Or we wouldn't have asked. I mean why would I be here ... if it wasn't for my own programme..?"

"I don't know," said Fred. "Why are you here?"

Terry looked at Humphrey. Humphrey looked at Gavin. Gavin looked at Terry. Terry looked at Fred.

"Well, you wouldn't have been the first person to ask me to do this," said Fred. "There's big money in fake Chinese porcelain." Fred scratched his ear. "Well I say fake but originals and fakes ... it's not that clear... in porcelain. You see the Chinese made their own copies of their own most popular pieces anyway - sometimes years later. And they all looked similar. If people liked a piece other people made more of it. So it's not like a Picasso painting say where there are pieces Picasso painted and pieces he didn't paint and one's real and one's fake. It's design not fine art. So sometimes things called fakes aren't necessarily fakes they're just misdated and overpriced."

Fred pointed at the photographs.

"For example this piece you've got here is obviously an original," he said. "If it was a copy the designs would be a lot more simplified. Different kilns created different types of designs. If you were an expert in this area you'd be able to tell which kiln this design came from ... but also other kilns copied other kilns designs. Sometimes the only way to check is to find another piece that is supposed to come from the same area and kiln and check how identical they are. If the markings are right ... separating antique china from fakeware is difficult. Still that's probably not the best way to assess beautiful things is it?"

"Quite," said Terry. "Well, we only want one piece made ..."

"Yes," said Humphrey. "We're not looking to corner the market in fakeware."

"Aren't you?" said a voice.

Chapter 34

Simon Chu appeared mock dramatically from behind a beaded curtain.

"This is my adopted nephew, Simon," said Fred as though Simon was one of the curios in his shop. There was an awkward silence. As though this awkward silence was an unsaid rhetorical question Fred added "I believe you've all already met him in some capacity."

"I can't think where?" said Humphrey Ling.

"At a party?" suggested Fred.

"Yes, ... I knew I'd met you before," said Terry. " I mean before the gutter ... It was ... it was ... it was...-?"

"At one of Sarah Wang's parties?" suggested Simon. "With Humphrey...?"

" ... or are they actually your parties?" said Humphrey to Simon.

"They're Sarah's parties. She's in charge of ... that side of the business ...although yes ...you may indeed have noticed that I often go myself. I'm very sociable," explained Fred vaguely.

"So that was where ...?" started Humphrey.

"That was where you first told me you wanted to sell some Chinese porcelain?" said Simon.

"Yes," said Humphrey, "but I didn't know ...-"

"He worked for me?" asked Fred. "No, you just didn't ask too much about who your fences were, ...did you? You just expected Simon here to solve it all for you...? Get the Chinese boy to send it out to China somehow and as if by magic he'll find you a buyer or a collector who won't ask too many questions about provenance without getting your hands dirty...?"

"As if being Chinese automatically makes you an expert in the market for Chinese ceramics," said Simon Chu. "You'd asked father to shift you some ceramics before so at the party Fred suggested to me I find a way to bring up the subject of Ming porcelain with you and then...-"

"I thought he was your uncle?" said Terry.

"I'm his adoptive father," explained Fred reclining on a plush sofa that he pretended was for sale but was really there for him to lounge on. "His parents died in a hurricane accident. Of course the problem after Humphrey approached Simon became finding your source for this stuff. That is... Simon and I can't let you sell that kind of stuff on its own."

"Why?" asked Terry.

"My dear Mr Scott," said Fred straightening his cravat. "Please don't try my patience ... you know as well as I do that if Humphrey or you or I or anyone were to drop a whole load of Ming and Qing dynasty ceramics on the market in a short space of time it would arouse suspicion... particularly when they're recognisable pieces like this one?" He indicated the photographs. "You know this ... that's why you've come here to ask me how to make your own fake versions of the real stuff, isn't it? Need them for sit-com indeed...". Fred laughed.

"Well," said Gavin. "Mr Chu ...- Simon here ... was 'leaning' ...?"

"Yes," said Terry. "...leaning on us all quite hard to try and naturally we thought...-"

"Oh, come on," said Fred. "Yes, Simon was angry with you for breaking a priceless pieces of his heritage but you knew what you were doing coming here and asking me to ...'make you' ... such items ...? You might think you are morally superior because Simon pushed you around a bit to begin with but ... you're not really all that innocent, are you?"

"I do actually have a career and I'm not short of a few pounds," protested Terry.

"Well, you're in that thing with June Whitfield but I can't say I've seen you in much else," was the free unsolicited career advice that Simon Chu offered.

"And I really don't need or want the money either," protested Gavin. "Not that my career's going that well ... well, technically there's work at the consultancy at any moment but...-"

"Oh well, Humphrey definitely wants the money. Don't you, Humphrey?" said Simon.

Humphrey said nothing.

"Well," said Fred to Gavin and Terry. "Like it or not you're in it now. You're involved. After Gavin broke that first moonflask you were involved... You can't back out now even if you wanted to because I can't make you un-know what you know about the provenance of these items ....-"

"Duplication just seemed the most logical idea," said Terry. "If things keep going missing from the Fairfield Halls they'll find out eventually ..."

"...so I thought," said Gavin taking up the narrative, "...well, why not make some pieces to replace the pieces we're supposed to find for Simon... then -...-"

"I think you've got a talent for this and I think you'd do what I want very well," said Fred.

"I don't think I'm doing myself down...-," began Terry.

"I think Terry will help us. I still have the negatives," said Simon.

"But...-" said Gavin.

"You see ... you've got the right idea," said Fred. "We don't steal the items. We borrow them. And then we copy them ... only slightly differently so they're not the same. And then we make our own fakeware. Not just one piece though ... lots. I like you, Gavin. You see the big picture..."

"Wouldn't that be very difficult?" said Gavin. "I mean you said...-"

"Yes," said Fred sucking at his pipe, "it is. You need a team of people. And that's what you're going to be...-"

"You're mad," said Humphrey.

"Not at all," said Fred. "Think about it. It's completely rational. Gavin here is a scientist and an expert in geology ... that's clay and things ...he'll be able to make sure the kaolin and pegmatite mixtures are right and be able to deal with the technical issues to do with firing. And you and I'm sure Simon are both designers - or a designer and an art and design student. You'll be able to copy the designs to a reasonably plausibility under my guidance... I think."

"Fuck off," said Humphrey.

"There's no need to swear. If you think about it you'll see it's all completely logical. I've got a very good eye for the flaws that would have been in any originally manufactured pieces and you have got access to a massive collection of original pieces. Riesco's pieces at the Fairfield Halls... that's a reference collection one couldn't dream of outside the British Museum and once you smuggle them out for my inspection we can look all over their pieces to see exactly how they're fired ... We've got an almost unique opportunity here. And if we need a tripple check on quality I'll ask that old fool Negus to look at them. Nothing he enjoys more than spotting fakeware. He won't know that I'm the fraudster. He'll just think I'm asking for a second opinion."

"It all sounds very complicated," protested Terry.

"Good," said Fred. "I like complicated."

Chapter 35

"Look," said Humphrey. "Simon here is an okay artist but he's just a student ... is he going to be able to copy the designs to the accuracy you'd need without ...-?"

"Yes, I am," said Simon.

"Well perhaps," said Gavin, "... but where are you going to get a kiln?"

"Yes," said Humphrey. "They're not small things, you know? Or cheap?"

"I've thought of that," said Fred. "You, Terry and Gavin will get us one..."

"We'll what?" said Humphrey.

"Not too hard to do, is it? That school Gavin went to with Sarah... they'll have one."

"I don't think we can steal a kiln," said Gavin. "Terry's got a very bad back and...-"

"Yes, I have," protested Terry.

"Fool," said Fred. "You don't steal the kiln. Humphrey's wife works there ...she'll have access to the kiln... all you need is access ...-"

"I don't think Emily ...-?" said Humphrey.

"Why not? Simon here says that you can be very persuasive," said Fred.

"Well, maybe if it was a one off she could sneak a piece into a firing ... but ... -"

"I appreciate that it can't be done in an afternoon," said Fred, "but schools have holidays and during those holidays the schools are empty, aren't they...? And Sarah Wang went there once ... get her on it? A bit of old school tie always helps? You two and Sarah can tell her some story like you told me about how you need to manufacture a job lot of these and that you're willing to pay for use of...-"

"I'm not sure she's that kind of person," said Gavin.

"Make her that kind of person," said Fred.

Chapter 36

Humphrey Ling knew Fred's plan was not a good idea.

Terry Scott seemed to know it was not a good idea.

Gavin Clout seemed to know it was not a good idea.

Fred Keane and Simon Chu were set on the idea and in the absence of a better idea Gavin, Terry, Humphrey and Simon discussed the plan down 'the Forum' pub beneath a tired looking photograph of the head of Constantine at the Musée du Capitole in Rome.

I would tell you in detail what happened at this meeting but nothing much was really resolved. The length of the conversation probably having more to do with Terry and Gavin and Humphrey being 'between projects' and drinking lots of beer and spirits than it did to do with establishing any plan of action.

Instead we have this short chapter in which nothing much happens, there are many points of view but no one changes their point of view and the story does not move along but Gavin, Terry, Humphrey and Simon punish their livers a lot.

What I can say is that after much discussion of the flaws in their plans and a lot more alcohol they arrived back at this same starting point without managing to eliminate any of the flaws in their original plan.

As Humphrey Ling staggered down the travelator he realised with depressing certainty what he had known before he went and spent four hours trying to pretend there was an alternative to. He would need the help of Emily Ling.

Chapter 37

"It's really simple," Humphrey told Emily over a burger and chips at the 'Happy Eater'. "All we want is access to a kiln in order to run a couple of tests."

"You want me to help you to use Miss Cunard's kiln to make fakeware?"

"Only during the holidays."

"How much?"

They settled a price. Humphrey having got what he wanted did not ask too many questions about why she had agreed. He'd begun to feel that their marriage was descending into little more than a series of financial transactions for a while anyway. Now it seemed to have gone all the way it didn't seem to matter.

He felt unloved.

He'd felt unloved since her affair with Terry. He hated her for the affair with Terry. He hated himself too. Yet he still wanted to be with her. She seemed to hate him. He sort of wasn't sure if he hated her. It was all odd. He began to wonder if her easy cooperation was a trap of some kind. Was she being too nice for a reason? Was she setting him up? Was she planning some revenge? None of these questions had a satisfactory answer.

Christmas was gone but half term was coming up. That would be a good time for them to start using the kiln. Emily suggested they might have more luck if they brought Terry along. This made Humphrey wonder even more if this was all about trapping or humiliating him in some way. However, he agreed. Humphrey suggested as Fred had suggested to him that perhaps Sarah Wang as an ex-student might also help sway Ms Cunard's mind. Emily told him this was a very good idea too.

Of course it wasn't but Humphrey liked the idea of someone else being involved who was not Terry or Emily. Somehow the more people were involved the safer he felt even if he knew that in reality the reverse situation was true.

Chapter 38

Ms Cunard was working late that day. Ms Cunard was almost always working late. Running the school seemed to create a never ending bureaucratic load of paper work over which Ms Cunard never seemed to triumph. Ms Cunard would have delegated more of it if only she could trust other people to do it correctly or if the school could afford more administrative staff or if the accounts had been straightforward. She couldn't, it couldn't and they weren't so she didn't.

"Come," she had said after hearing the knock on the door.

Emily came in. "Excuse me, Miss Cunard," she had said. "You know you're always asking us if we can think of any way to raise more money for the school?"

"Yes, I do."

"Well, I think I have an idea."

"You do?"

"Yes, my husband ... you know he makes props and things and he needs a kiln ...to make some pottery for a production...-"

"He does?"

"...and as you know we have a kiln and so he was wondering if he could use ours ... over the holidays ...and at weekends ...for some form of ...remuneration obviously ... he doesn't expect it for free. I told him he couldn't expect to use it for free ...and ...-"

"Doesn't he have his own kiln at work?"

"Yes, but it's broken ... and he's got rather to a lot of pieces to make and ... well, I just thought I'd ask you ... if you were interested... but if you're not that ... Anyway, I don't know the details... I was thinking it would be best if you and he ...discussed that ... together... "

"You were?"

"Yes. He's willing to pay for the use of facilities."

Ms Cunard hummed to herself.

Æthelred rolled over on the carpet. He was moulting.

Then Ms Cunard said "Okay, Emily. Yes. I would like to meet your husband first of course to discuss the details. We can't afford to turn down any avenue of potential extra revenue."
Chapter 39

Humphrey Ling, Terry Scott, Gavin Clout and Sarah Wang were directed to Ms Cunard's office by a spotty girl in a creased yellow and purple uniform. She gave Gavin flashbacks of his first visit there. The girl knocked on Ms Cunard's door.

"Come," said Miss Cunard.

Terry, Gavin, Humphrey and Sarah came into her room. It seemed to Gavin that this number of people turning up for the interview was overkill and he was unaware of why it should take so many people to pull the wool over Ms Cunard's eyes but everyone else had been convinced it was a good idea so it probably was even if they'd all been pissed when they thought of it. Perhaps they were all so intimidated by Ms Cunard that it took all four of them to give each other the moral courage to ask a fairly simple question.

Despite there being four brains between them no individual brain had been instructed to be the group spokesman but Gavin assumed it should be himself. Unfortunately Humphrey also assumed it should be himself and so did Terry and so they all started talking over each other at the same time and then stopped.

Then Humphrey started again. "Hello, I'm Mr Ling ... Emily's husband," he began.

"Mr Ling ... it's nice to meet you at last," said Ms Cunard leaning over her desk to shake his hand.

"And I'm Terry Scott," said Terry Scott making himself the next in line to shake her hand.

"You've probably seen Terry on television," said Gavin.

"No," said Ms Cunard. "I don't have one. A good book, Mr Clout, is always much better than television. You cannot carry a television round with you. Nor can you mark your place in a television programme. Books are a form of technology that cannot and never will be surpassed. Can you imagine a world where someone makes an electronic book that will fit in your pocket so that you can carry it round that is as lightweight? It will never happen."

"Oh well, maybe I'm not as well known as I imagine I am," joked Terry.

"No," said Ms Cunard.

"But you do know Gavin and Sarah Clout?" said Terry.

"Do I?" asked Ms Cunard.

"Yes, I was at school here. You remember?" said Sarah.

"And we came to the open day," added Gavin.

"Ah," said Ms Cunard. "Yes, I remember a Sarah Wang of course ...and I believe there is such a person as a Gavin Clout but I have to confess that having checked the electoral register I have yet to find any such person as a Sarah Clout...-"

"Oh, that's probably because Gavin forgot to register me...-" began Sarah Wang.

"There is however a Sarah Wang on the electoral register," said Ms Cunard.

Sarah and Gavin looked at each other.

"I still use my maiden name for professional reasons," said Sarah.

"Really, Sarah, I would have thought you would have known me better. You were at Ealhswith for some considerable time. If a couple don't look and act as though they are married they are probably not married. I'm not sure why you felt the need to engage in such a deception but you should know by now that I, like Mr Larkin, am one of the less deceived."

"I am sorry, Miss Cunard," said Sarah. "The truth is we are living together but not married and I thought it might j-..."

"That is not the truth," said Ms Cunard looking her in the eyes. "Anyone who watches this man for two minutes can tell he's not the least bit interested in women."

"I'm not disinterested," protested Gavin. "I'm just..."

"I don't know and am not that interested in what the truth is but it is not that you are married or lovers, is it? In my job I spend a lot time watching, Mr Clout. Girls are a devious sex and far more scheming than boys so it is necessary to watch a lot and when you have been in the vocation as long as I have you can tell an awful lot just by looking."

No one said anything.

"Shall we begin again?" said Ms Cunard. "Emily told me her story that you want to use my kiln..."

"That bit 's true," said Terry.

"Parts of it were true," said Ms Cunard. "When Gavin was leaving here least I heard him talking about 'moonflasks'? I confess I didn't know what one was so I looked it up in the school encyclopaedia. We have our own complete copy of the Encyclopædia Britannica – probably the most authoritative encyclopaedia ever. I doubt it will ever be surpassed."

Ms Cunard stopped talking. Her eyes scanned them and their eyes scanned hers.

Æthelred rolled about on the floor.

Ms Cunard pointed to the appropriate volume on her desk. It was open at the appropriate page.

"Shall I," said Miss Cunard, "as they say in the pictures 'cut to the chase'...?"

"Please do," said Gavin.

"It is clear to me," said Ms Cunard. "That you are all involved in a criminal conspiracy to make pieces of fraudulent fakeware and distribute them to the unknowing. Or your plans are along those lines? Why you had to go to such elaborate lengths to attempt to infiltrate EalhswithSchool of all places I am not quite sure..."

"Yes," said Humphrey. "Okay you're ...-"

"Oh please don't worry yourself, Mr Ling," said Ms Cunard. "I'm not going to inform the police of your activities. After all you haven't done anything yet to inform them of but I want to make sure we are all on the same page before I continue..."

"Yes," said Humphrey.

"As you know," said Ms Cunard, "this school was founded in memory of Queen Ealhswith the wife of Alfred the Great. She was a Mercian princess who married to seal the alliance with Mercia. She married for practicality. Like her we at EalhswithSchool are all practical people. The way I see it we have something that you need and you are prepared to pay for it and no crime is committed until you sell this fakeware, is it?"

"No," said Humphrey.

"Then," said Miss Cunard, "the only question remaining is, how much?"

Chapter 40

Making porcelain objects in theory and making them in practice turned out to be more different and difficult than everybody thought. Armed with every book on firing and making porcelain they could find Gavin and Fred tried physically making the objects in their pre-fired state. This was a difficult process not helped by Gavin's propensity to knock things over. Fred told Simon he was worried that Terry would tell someone else of their activities by simply being indiscrete. Simon told Fred he was worried that Gavin would talk to the police. But Gavin said nothing to anyone. He was too engrossed in the intricacies of the complicated manufacturing process. Fred observed this state of mind in Gavin's behaviour and did what he could to preserve it.

Fred had a small workshop in the back of his shop and it was there that they made their first attempts. Fred was a stickler for authenticity in the whole process. Getting the clay mix right was tedious and forming the objects not as simple as they'd first thought so Gavin and Fred together worked over several weekends trying to figure out from scientific first principles if they should build their own small kaolin ball mill. Fred eventually decided that this was going too far back down the process chain and that they were better off just buying their own readymade kaolin. It wouldn't be exactly the same as what the Chinese manufacturers had used but unless you smashed a fired item most people would be unlikely to know this and who'd be likely to be going round smashing Qing and Ming Vases to find out apart from Gavin?

Gavin found it technically fascinating and as he had been made redundant yet again from work with the usual promises that they might take him on again when things picked up and it gave him something else to do during the day except go down the Job Centre in the morning, sit in the pub in the afternoon and sit at the back of PESGB lectures in the evenings.

Soft plastic forming, stiff plastic forming, slip casting and pressing ... moulding on the wheel or with mould shapes and keeping the water content right. The physics of the process was hypnotically complicated. There were so many different options and permutations that produced so many subtly different results. Painstakingly they worked their way through each one to see which would produce the nearest thing to the object they were copying.

Sometimes Sarah Wang would be left in charge of the shop for an afternoon and would come and watch Gavin and Terry at work. She didn't have much to contribute except to tease Gavin about the unsymmetrical nature of many of his proto-moonflasks but it cheered him up and seemed to make the tedious task slightly more jolly.

All this took quite a while. Days stretched into weeks...

Terry, who was not rushed off his feet with acting work at the moment, helped with the physical manufacture as after several abandoned items it became clear that he had the better aptitude when it came to hand modelling than Gavin.

Humphrey would take the items to the school at the weekend for a biscuit-firing in the kiln and Sarah or Gavin would drop by to keep an eye on the firing programme.

Then the items would be returned by Gavin or Sarah to the shop late at night and over the next few weeks Simon and Humphrey under the watchful eye of Fred would attempt to apply glaze to them to designs as close to the originals as possible. This turned out after a few first attempts to be incredibly difficult but eventually with the help of a photocopier and Simon Chu's camera and dark room under the stairs they managed with a combination of large photographs to figure out a way to make transfers.

Fred sought audiences with Arthur Negus down the pub one day after a hard day's recording of the "Antiques Roadshow" and all he had to do was mention Robert Hancock's transfer methods and Arthur talked about the subject in more detail than anyone would ever want to know. With these background insights Fred and Gavin made their own transfer systems with the help of Simon's hand copies of the designs.

Simon and Fred then made the final hand touches to the glazes in order to make them look more like they were hand painted and less like they were crudely copied. Each new item looked ever more like a genuine Ming or Qing.

Chapter 41

Everyone changed. Even Gavin noticed it. Day by day they seemed to him to be less and less interested in the criminal aims of the scheme and more and more interested in simply making beautiful pieces of porcelain for its own sake. Even Simon Chu seemed to relax and would keep them all amused with stories of the Emperor from who's era each piece of porcelain came. Stories he had half heard as child and then further researched using Ms Cunard's Encyclopaedia Britannica. It seemed less likely than ever that he had ever been in a Triad.

***

Like Gavin, Simon Chu liked to hold the pieces of porcelain in his hands. There was something about holding the clay in his hands – something nice about the physicality of the objects and the fact they were all making things that were physical.

There is a strange glamour to old fashioned primary industry and manufacturing. Sometimes he would show the odd object to a fellow student at University and lie that they were family heirlooms.

****

Humphrey too became enthusiastic about the project - Enthusiastic to the point that he even asked Emily if she would "join in the fun of making". Emily however refused to get involved. She told Humphrey that she would not use the kiln herself and didn't want to know about "their processes" and "didn't want to get her hands dirty at all".

Humphrey told Gavin. Gavin said he thought it all sounded very silly as he didn't see how she could fail to be as implicated as the rest of them given that she was the one who actually worked at the school.

****

About this time Fred Keane started to say things like "I know there's a perception that crime is hurrying to make dirty money quickly but there really is no hurry here. All we need are one or two copies that good. Really good. The best they can be and if we can fool the market then we will make millions. And you'll all share in some of that. And then if you want to leave and go your separate ways then ... then that's okay with me and Simon.

This isn't a wheeze that can run perpetually. One puts a few pieces out there and hope that no one figures they're fakes and if they do they don't trace it back to one. What we're looking to do is make one or two or three of these pieces that are as close as plausibly possible to the true original. When I think we're there then we'll try it out on Arthur..."

Chapter 42

"I know," Fred Keane told Terry and Gavin another time, "you think what we're doing is really wrong but it isn't. Anyone in China could have made any of these pieces at any time in a period of 300 years and they could have lain somewhere unlooked at and undiscovered to this day and whoever buys it will be happy to own what they think is an original item and unless they break it they'll probably never know ... so what harm are we really doing?"

It was an argument he never tired of recycling. Still Gavin had to admit to himself that put in those terms it made some sense and both he and Terry enjoyed making the pieces as a hobby. Indeed, it was almost as much fun as going to the office regularly had been.

Terry claimed to him one day that "taking up this pottery business has done wonders for my relationship with Margaret. She's stopped asking where I am all the time. I should have had another hobby that wasn't women a while ago. I mean ...you've got to like the clay ...haven't you? I mean ...just the feel of it".

Strangely Gavin found that he agreed. They both enjoyed that they were making physical objects in three dimensions. Terry even took some of the less successful attempts home with him until Fred told him not to as he was in danger of giving the game away.

"A shame," said Terry. "Can I just keep one or two...?"

"No," said Fred.

"I'll tell people I bought them in your junk shop," said Terry.

"Even if you told them you bought them in a junk shop it would be dangerous," said Fred. "Surely even you aren't too thick to see that?"

"Yes," said Terry. "Sorry ...-"

"I sometimes wonder if we're going about this the wrong way," said Gavin looking over Terry's shoulder at a just finished moonflask waiting its biscuit firing.

"What do you mean?" said Terry. "I think that one's quite good -..."

"Nothing...," said Gavin.

"Come on," said Simon Chu. "Don't be shy, Gavin. If you think we're doing something wrong then tell us where we're going wrong. These have got to fool experts. If we don't get it right...-"

"Oh, I'm sure we're getting it right," said Gavin, "technically ... it just seems to me ...that ...well, if Terry's happy to have moonflasks that look similar but are clearly not originals in his home then ...well, probably a lot of other people are too. That's to say that maybe we're after the wrong market. Perhaps instead of trying to sell copies as originals it might make more sense to sell copies as copies. I mean, they're still beautiful ornaments and ...as you say ...there's a market ...so it's possible ... that ... I mean I know an original sells for a lot of money but...-."

"Millions," said Fred.

"Sometimes tens of millions," said Simon.

"But ... is that really what we want?" asked Gavin.

"Yes," said Fred and Simon together.

"It was just an idea," said Gavin.

"It's a stupid idea," said Simon.

"Then ...we -...you could do the same thing without the police after you," Gavin added anyway.

Simon Chu looked at him oddly.

Fred Keane looked at him quizzically.

"Don't think, Gavin," said Simon. "You'll burst something."

"He's got a point," said Terry. "I mean you've virtually got an industrial production line going here almost and ....it seems sad that we'll have to stop one day now that we've ironed out most of the technical difficulties of making ...and it could be legit-"

"No," said Fred.

"Why?" said Gavin. "Why wouldn't it work? Why couldn't there be a new market?"

"The curse of Zhu Zhanji," said Simon. "Do you think it's an accident that no one's ever been able to recreate the market for Jinghezhen ware?"

"Come on," said Fred, "let's stop talking bollocks and get back to work..."

Chapter 43

Later that afternoon Simon Chu reviewed the situation in his mind over and over again until it rather upset him.

Terry and Gavin had had a point. This whole process was taking them a lot of time. Every time they thought they'd got near enough to an original of good enough quality to fool an expert Fred found a flaw that hadn't occurred to him before and rejected it as substandard.

Maybe actually the whole project was too difficult? Coming up with plausible copies wasn't as simple as it had first seemed when Fred had first suggested it – and it hadn't exactly seemed simple then - so Simon decided to discuss things with his cousin Sarah Wang one afternoon down 'The Standard' in the beer garden under the flyover over beer and under the toxic fumes of the cars above.

Perhaps if he ran the idea past her he might get a better idea of whether it made sense? Over lots of pints of Pride and pork scratchings Sarah asked him to recap how they had got themselves into this predicament in the first place.

As usual Simon found however he ran back over everything his explanations and thoughts sounded more convoluted and confused than ever. They didn't become clearer with beer.

"See......," said Simon, "... the thing is ... every time we get near to anything that we think is plausible enough to be passed off as an original then Fred says that it's not good enough and we have to go back to the drawing board. And don't get me wrong I like making these pieces ...actually making the porcelain is kind of nice ...and we are good at it and getting better at it but ... I think ..."

"That actually he doesn't want to sell any?" said Sarah.

"Well, he thinks and acts like he's the big fence," said Simon, "and likes to boast about having the contacts and knowing the auctioneers and being mates with Arthur Negus and knowing the trade and knowing the market and all of that ... but when it comes to it ... Yes, I think you're right ... no he doesn't."

"Why?"

"I don't know ... but I don't think Fred's actually got the bottle to sell such a hugely expensive fake. Small fakes yes ... but this one ... I think he's ...-"

"Too scared...?" said Sarah.

"And that's not all ...look at the number of people who are involved now ... you, me, Fred, both the Lings, ...Terry, Gavin and that Miss Cunard woman ... if we do pull this off everyone's going to want their cut and how are we going to keep it quiet...?"

"And your solution to this is...?" asked Sarah.

"We don't sell them as originals. Gavin's right. We sell them as copies ...legitimate copies."

"What?"

"We make it legitimate ... -"

"You're not serious?"

"Yes," said Simon. "I've started to think that actually Gavin's got the right idea ... I think we can make enough money...-"

"I thought you were going to be the big gangster...?" said Sarah.

"Yes, but first you need some capital...?" said Simon.

"Bollocks."

"What?"

"Gavin's got more bollocks than you."

"Gavin has...?"

"Simon, if what you say is true and we can make one good piece that's plausibly Ming then we could all be set up for life. Isn't that worth taking a risk for?"

"Well, ... "

"Honestly, you're starting to believe your own bullshit. You made up the legitimate copies bollocks to keep Gavin and Terry's consciences from pricking a bit and now-..."

"I've started to believe it myself?" said Simon. This disconcerted him. "Why?"

"Because Gavin's sold you your own lies back."

"He has?"

"Yes."

"How?

"I don't know ... Maybe Gavin is cleverer and has more bollocks than you expected," said Sarah. "Either that or Zhu Zhanjihas cursed his porcelain."

Simon didn't know what to say.

Chapter 44

The kiln inhabited a space on the top landing. Why it wasn't on the ground floor was a continual mystery to Humphrey. It was just like Ms Cunard though to make the installers carry the blood thing up a massive flight of stairs rather than just leave it on the ground floor which would have been sensible. Humphrey Ling made his way up this wooden staircase carrying a small wooden box he'd selected for that purpose of carrying the soon-to-be moonflask. It was ready to be biscuit fired.

Having reached the top of the stairs Humphrey stopped, turned round and took the time to look down over the banister to the entrance hall that aspired to a grandeur it didn't have. It didn't look as bad in the twilight and the daylight. In the day the place was full of sound and children. In the evening it was not. On the walls were paintings of the early Queens of England by the more junior girls of the school. There were also wooden boards with lists of names of girls who had achieved a range of sporting achievements, academic achievements or toadying to the teacher achievements. Humphrey checked the clock on the wall next to the kiln. He was about to get started when he was interrupted.

"Still here, Mr Ling?" came Ms Cunard's voice.

Humphrey spun round. Oh well, it was her school, he thought.

"This is the last one," said Humphrey.

"Really?" said Ms Cunard emerging from the shadows of the entrance hall and ascending the stairs rapidly.

"Yes...-" said Humphrey.

"So you've done it now?" said Ms Cunard who had now reached the top of the stairs.

"Yes...-" said Humphrey.

"You've perfected your process ...and created your perfect Ming forgery at last?"

"Well, not exactly," said Humphrey. "This one hasn't been fired yet ... although I think you misunderstand. It's true we intend to make reproductions of these items but we weren't going to try and sell them as forgeries...-"

"Oh come, come, Mr Ling..." said Ms Cunard leaning back against the banister. "Why the secrecy then? That isn't what you told me in the beginning...?"

"We didn't actually tell you anything much you just ...surmised."

"What a good word," said Ms Cunard, "Mr Ling ... I surmised."

Humphrey looked at Ms Cunard then looked at the box with the moonflask in and then looked back at Ms Cunard again.

"You're making forgeries. Admit it."

Humphrey didn't know what to say. It occurred to him that he didn't have to say anything. Ms Cunard continued to look at him as he loaded the kiln. He decided that actually he should say something. "Well," he said, "you can't prove that ...and in order to be guilty of fraud we'd have to have actually sold a piece fraudulently. Simply making fake pieces of art isn't its self a crime."

"Is it not? One wonders what Zhu Zhanji would say about that."

"Nothing. He's dead and the Ming dynasty is out of copyright."

"I understand that," said Ms Cunard. "I understand that it's not technically a crime till you make a false sale declaration but still if you do decide to sell any of your pieces as originals rather than copies it's going to become a bit of a problem, isn't it? That someone else knows their provenance."

"We're not," said Humphrey. "And even if we did who'd believe you? How would you explain how you knew that the pieces were not manufactured in the era the seller claims? Once they're gone from here you won't recognise them again when they turn up and..."

"I'm sure there'd be some giveaways," said Ms Cunard.

"Would there?" asked Humphrey closing the kiln. "Could you even identify any of the pieces that we've fired here?"

"Well," said Ms Cunard, "I admit that...-"

"Anyway, I'm not lying to you," said Humphrey Ling. "We're not going to be selling these things off as the real McCoy."

"...because you can't get them good enough?" said Ms Cunard.

"Not at all. Our copies have got better and better and better. We've got the whole process down now. That's why we won't need to use your kiln again after this week. Fred and Simon are getting their own. We're going to be a legitimate business. Simon's going to be head of manufacturing, Fred's going to sell them in his shop and Terry and Gavin are documenting the processes so that they can train other people up to manufacture pseudo-Ming porcelain. Yes, okay we did start with a plan to make it a criminal enterprise but then ... we thought ... why not go straight with it.!

"And you think you can scale this up into an industrial process?"

"Yes," said Humphrey smiling a smile he hoped was disarming. "So you see you've got nothing on us. You'll be paid for the use of the kiln and that, Miss Cunard, is your lot."

"I hope you don't think I was trying to blackmail you, Mr Ling. I'm just having a quiet word because your wife-..."

"Of course I do," said Humphrey Ling laughing. "Teachers... you're all so up your own arse, aren't you? Think you're so goody good... Well, you're not. You're just like everyone else. Dirt. Where are your morals now?"

"Morals? Mr Ling, Ealhswith School and I don't teach morals. We teach knowledge and allow the girls to come to their own understandings with regards to morality. As Ealhswith's husband said 'The saddest thing about any man is that he be ignorant, and the most exciting thing is that he knows.' The world, Mr Ling, is sexist. And full of sexist bullies like you. Ealhswith School teaches girls that they must strive harder than men to get even ..."

"That's your excuse for blackmail is it? Some Miss Havisham bullshit?"

"Mr Ling, your intentions were criminal so you are a criminal. If the mind is guilty it will soon engage in a guilty act so the actus reus is actually academic. My morals are simply to do what makes the most money for the school which, as you can see, needs it. One cannot be guilty of a guilty act if one doesn't have a guilty mind and as I have no morality I can therefore never be guilty. We struggle, Mr Ling. We struggle to compete all the time... "to not go bust" to put it in popular language. To not be taken over. To not have to water down what we offer. Adversity is a good thing. For in prosperity a woman is often puffed up with pride, whereas tribulations chasten and humble her through suffering and sorrow. In the midst of prosperity the mind is elated, and in prosperity a woman forgets herself; in hardship she is forced to reflect on herself, even though she be unwilling," said Ms Cunard. "Our aim is to produce young women who have suffered no hardship so they never have to reflect on themselves. I knew no hardship when growing up so that's how I live."

Humphrey Ling looked around. He couldn't see that the school needed capital investment but maybe they were looking at different things. "You talk a load of crap," he said.

"So what do you believe in, Mr Ling?" asked Ms Cunard.

"Do I have to believe in something?"

"No, but it would be interesting if you did."

"Would it? Look Cunard, I don't know what the point of this is but the fact is you haven't actually got anything on us so you can't extort any money out of us...-"

"I'm not extorting money, Mr Ling. I'm just asking you nicely if there's anythi-"

"Give it a rest. You're extorting money. Well, you've got nothing on us."

"Not even the fact that you hit your wife?" said Ms Cunard.

"What?" blurted Humphrey.

"Don't try to deny it, Mr Ling. We all know. I do anyway. I've see the bruises Emily tries to cover up. You're a wife beater, Mr Ling. So I have no problem in blackmailing you."

"Bollocks," said Humphrey.

"Well, she didn't give them to herself ...unless she's taken up shadow boxing...-"

"Oh fuck off," said Humphrey. "You don't care. You're just trying to legitimise your greed by concocting excuses...-"

"My greed's no bigger than your greed, Mr Ling. You went out of your way to steal items from that collection. You joined the Fairfield Society and inveigled yourself a job as an usher simply because you knew those items were priceless but not protected...-"

"So what if I did?" said Humphrey. "I told the Council. They don't care. They have no interest. They never answered. They're just waiting for everyone else to forget so they can sell bits on the quiet. So yes, I thought about helping myself. And I did help myself to one ...if I hadn't someone else would have ... but Terry broke that so there's no evidence...- "

"You'd bet your freedom on that? You think no one in 'the Forum' will remember when the police start asking...-"

"There's no evidence I hit Emily either."

"So where did she get those bruises?"

"Does it matter? The police won't come between husband and wife without a good reason and that's not a good reason ... -"

"I'm just explaining why I feel no way about "blackmailing" you, Mr Ling. At Ealhswith School we have a code when it comes..-"

"If you really believe I am a wife beating bastard aren't you taking a hell of a risk confronting me on your own?"

"No," said Miss Cunard producing a flick knife from her hand bag and flicking it open so that it made a loud snap and glinted. "Vicious looking little thing, isn't it? You wouldn't think that in an area like this the girls would carry such a weapon but I believe it is the fashion. I can look after myself, Mr Ling. I'm a karate black belt although I admit that I may be a little out of practice."

"Are you?" said Humphrey taking a step forward. "That why you need a knife?"

Miss Cunard threw the knife into the Art Room door behind her.

"I don't need a knife to deal with a bully like you, Mr Ling," she said.

"Good," said Humphrey. "Let's be having you then, Miss Cunard".

Ms Cunard took a pace forward. Humphrey put his box down and took another pace forwards. Ms Cunard took another pace forwards. Humphrey took another pace forwards. Ms Cunard took another pace forwards. Humphrey took another pace forwards. They were now about two and a half feet from each other. Ms Cunard gave a small bow of mutual respect to another martial artist and in the next moment Humphrey Ling had headbutted her really hard. She had half expected that he was going to do it but was not quite prepared and did not quite have time to react. When she was younger she would have had the reaction time but she didn't any more. Instead she fell backward, hit her head on the doorframe to the Art Room and passed out.

Chapter 45

Humphrey Ling stood over her static body. He uttered a sexual swearword. Blood was trickling from the back of her head. He lent down and examined her. She was still breathing. He looked at the back of her head. There was a nasty cut but not big enough to need stitches. Humphrey decided that she would live. When she woke up she would call the police. He was sure of it. He would have to make sure she didn't wake up but he didn't want to kill her. He paced up and down for a full ten minutes. He would ask Simon Chu to sort it out. Simon would know what to do. He was supposed to be the mastermind. But what would he do with Ms Cunard in the mean time...? He could bind and gag her but could he get her out of the school without being seen? What if the groundsman was around? He looked around. He went down the stairs a little way and looked. He saw and heard nothing. He returned to the landing. He checked the rooms that led off it. They were empty and dark. No one had seen him do it and he was pretty sure that no one had heard them. He looked at Ms Cunard again. He looked around for somewhere to hide her. There was nowhere. He looked again. There was nowhere. He sighed with exasperation and then he saw it standing in front of him.

The kiln – she would be safe in there. He searched his pockets and found a snotty hankie and gagged her with this and some sellotape he found lying about. He took the moonflask out the kiln and put it back in his box and hid the box round the back of the kiln. Then he took the shelves out the kiln and stuffed Miss Cunard inside and put the shelves vertically down the side opposite her. There was just room for her and the shelves this way. He shut the door. But what if someone looked inside? He set the firing program as though the kiln was firing and he locked the door but left the kiln vent open so she wouldn't suffocate. He put the "Danger Firing" sign on the door and checked again that the mains power switch was switched off. To the casual observer it would look like the kiln was in use.

Then he started down the stairs. Half way down he heard a noise. A soft deep toned animal like noise. Then the dog was on him. Leaping from somewhere in the darkness Æthelred had his genitals in vice-like grip. Blood seeped through his trousers. He squeezed the dog round it's neck with his hands but Æthelred would not let go. They toppled over. Æthelred barked and howled. He fell down the stairs with the dog. He banged his head. "Down Æthelred!" he heard. Then he heard and thought nothing for a long time.

Chapter 46

Emily didn't know where Æthelredhad come from. Ms Cunard must have left the door to her study open. Æthelred must have sensed that Ms Cunard was in danger. Or perhaps Æthelred was trained simply to attack strangers. Or perhaps it was just instinct. If it was it was a good instinct. "Well bitten," said Emily to Æthelred. Seeing the blood stains round Humphrey's crutch made her feel good. She cogitated on how he had used to use Brewin to make her feel she could not go out by letting him roam the garden unchained and how much it had made her hate him and that dog. She hated Brewin. She loved Æthelred. She felt good. She patted Æthelred again. After a while Æthelred reluctantly removed his teeth from Humphrey and took some steps back still growling and panting. Emily patted Æthelred's head again. Æthelred stopped growling.

Humphrey didn't seem too badly injured just unconscious so eventually Emily tied him up with some skipping ropes she rescued from the lost property. There was a banging noise. Emily moved towards it. It was upstairs. She heard it again. She followed the noise. She reached the landing and realised it was coming from the kiln. She opened the door.

Inside was Ms Cunard. Emily let undid her gag and helped her totter out.

Æthelred was very happy to see Ms Cunard again and wagged his tail furiously.

"Did Humphrey put you in here?" asked Emily.

"Yes," said Ms Cunard.

"Æthelred bit him in the bollocks. He's unconscious," said Emily

"Well, at least no one will question me bringing Æthelred into the office again...-"

Emily and Ms Cunard walked to the banisters and leaned over. Humphrey lay sprawled, tied and unconscious at the bottom of the stairs. Æthelred was still wagging his tail.

"Shall I call the police?" asked Emily.

"No," said Ms Cunard. "We have to consider our next move carefully."

"Well we can't leave him there," said Emily.

"No," said Ms Cunard. She looked round. She saw the kiln "I know ... Touch of his own medicine ...we'll put him in there ... for the moment ...after which I'm sure he'll be much more pliable."

After very little further analysis of the situation Emily dragged her husband up the stairs and together they bundled Humphrey into the kiln.

Emily replaced the "Danger Firing" sign, shut the door again and made sure the mains was off. To a casual observer it would look as though the kiln was firing.

"He'll be safe there for a while ...while we think," said Ms Cunard.

"What's our plan then?"

"I'm not sure," said Ms Cunard, "but I suggest we visit the local public house to concoct one."

Emily helped Miss Cunard down the stairs.

Chapter 47

"Gavin," said Terry, "do you really believe this being a legitimate business stuff ... that is...-?"

"I don't know," said Gavin. "Simon Chu doesn't strike me as a straight person ...that is ...I mean why go to all that effort if you're not going to...-"

"Take the big gamble and sell some high price items?" said Terry. "It's funny ...I wouldn't have thought he was that sort of person either but maybe he is ... people change."

"Do they?" asked Gavin.

"No idea," said Terry, "but I suppose it must be real if he's buying his own kiln."

"Maybe that's a rouse...?"

"If it is a rouse it's an elaborate one...-"

"Wasn't ours?"

"Wasn't our what?"

"Well, our original plan to frame Simon by planting a- ... no, now I come to think of it ...erm ... anyway we're here," said Gavin as he drove them up the drive to EalhswithSchool. "I won't be a moment," he added opening the car door.

"Shall I come with you?" asked Terry.

"If you want," said Gavin. "I'm just going to check that the firing is going okay...-"

"Why shouldn't it be...?" asked Terry getting out of the car.

"Well, sometimes some things they need propping up properly inside the kiln or they warp if it goes wrong even if you do it properly and sometimes Humphrey doesn't do it properly. I just want to have a check..."

"Well hurry up," said Terry, "or we won't make the service."

They hadn't been going to the school. They were just passing. Terry was standing in for the preacher at Coulsdon Methodist Church as the lay preacher who should be there had come down with shingles and he'd been the only lay preacher available at short notice in the immediate vicinity to cover.

Terry didn't need to see the kiln but his curiosity overtook him. He'd never seen a firing and if he didn't see one now he might never. He knew all there was to see was a shut door but that wasn't the point. It was evening so there was no one about. Or there seemed to be no one about. Gavin opened the front door with the key that Ms Cunard had lent them at the start of their enterprise. They climbed the stairs towards the first landing. It was dark.

Gavin would have switched some lights on but he was never sure where they were and there was enough moonlight to see by. He knew where he was going after all.

"Careful," said Gavin as they made their way up the stairs.

"Can't you put a light on?" asked Terry.

"I'm never sure where they are or which one's which. We don't need light anyway."

Terry disagreed silently.

They reached the top of the stairs.

"Looks like it's firing," said Terry pointing at the sign.

"Yes," said Gavin. "You can still see in though if you pull out the peep pole plug."

Gavin pulled out a peep hole plug.

"Careful," he warned Terry who was keen to see in. "It's hot in there."

Terry approached the hole with caution and then eventually said. "I can't see anything."

"There should be l-..." Gavin also peered at the hole. "Oh of course you can't ...Humphrey's ... left this vent plug out ... He must have just forgotten to switch it on."

Gavin put the vent plug back in.

Gavin threw the main switch to turn on the kiln.

"Shouldn't we turn the light on and check what's in there properly?" said Terry.

"I can never remember where the light switch is up here," said Gavin.

"Forget it then," said Terry. "We're late as it is..."

Chapter 48

Inside the Kiln Humphrey tried to make his presence known but he was gagged. Due to the fact Emily was also a Brown Owl and was very good at knots he could hardly move. Before he could make even a muffled noise Gavin had replaced the peep hole plug.

He heard the switch pulled.

He heard footsteps walking away.

It began to get hot.

Then there was more heat. There was sweat. There was heat. There was more heat.

This couldn't be happening. Could it?

There was no light.

He began to wonder what it was like to be cooked. He was getting cooked and discovering what it was like. There was still no light. There was heat. There was pain. There was excruciating pain. There was heat. There was darkness. There was pain.

There was nothing ever again.

Chapter 49

It was quite clear to Emily that Ms Cunard was concussed even if Ms Cunard was in denial of this. She had vomited on the way down the road to the pub and looked terrible. However, Ms Cunard assured Emily that she was "well". And where else was there for them to go?

Many years ago Lord Mapin who built the estate had decided that there should be no shops in it. After all as retail is a bit common and best left to servants, valets and the working classes - none of whom he had in mind as prospective buyers. He was selling complete privacy. A mini-world away from the real world - what everyone with enough money dreams of. An escape the plebs.

However, after having bought one of the first houses himself, he had relented slightly on this puritanical principle after finding that this meant that there was no pub. As Lord Mapin's other main interests in life apart from architecture had been beer, wine and whisky in that order he insisted rather late in the day that the estate should have one and only one commercial establishment - a public house.

Being enormously vain he promptly built such an establishment and named it after himself and often frequented it in his later years to bathe his throat in its liquors and his ego in what he imagined was his local celebrity.

So often was Lord Mapin in the Lord Mapin that he eventually died in the Lord Mapin of liver failure. They didn't change the name but they did put up a plaque.

All of this is slightly irrelevant to our story as the only connection between Lord Mapin and Ms Cunard was that Ms Cunard was similarly fond of an alcoholic beverage in times of stress to the level that she too was starting to show signs of alcoholic liver damage and was as often in the Lord Mapin as Lord Mapin had been before he died in the Lord Mapin. Ms Cunard also liked the pub because the girls were supposedly not allowed in it. This meant that they couldn't get at her in there. Also the fact that the sixth formers did try to sneak in there anyway also gave her a thin excuse for being in there much more often than was respectable. She could tell people she was "making sure no girls were in there".

Despite having thrown up in the private road outside Ms Cunard ordered a strong lager and was able to keep it down without any great difficulty. She drank another. Emily had only just finished her first white wine by the time Ms Cunard had downed her third pint. Ms Cunard continued to drink several pints more after this before topping herself up with some large VATs.

"I really think you ought to go to hospital," said Emily.

"Nonsense," said Ms Cunard. "I'm fine. I've got a plan..."

"You really don't look well," said Emily. "Maybe I should call the police and an ambulance ... we can tell ...-"

Aware that other drinkers were watching them with distain Emily thought that maybe returning to the school was for the best. Ms Cunard would be best off sleeping it off in her office as she usually did.

"No, don't be silly. It'll be fine," said Ms Cunard rising and wobbling. "Still, I suppose we ought to get back to the school. We can't leave him in the kiln forever."

"But what are we going to do ...?" asked Emily as they walked back down the road towards the School.

"I suppose we'll have to let him out..."

"But what if he turns on us...?"

"He won't."

Emily was not convinced. "But surely...?"

"He must have been in that kiln about two hours now," said Ms Cunard. "I think that must be enough for anybody. You know it's one of the classic five techniques, don't you?"

"What?"

Ms Cunard smiled. "Did I never tell you about my time with Operation Demetrius...?"

"No," said Emily.

"I was ... well you know ... before I went into teaching and in the early 70s well, we had a few troubles in Northern Ireland..." explained Ms Cunard.

"We still have a few...-" said Emily.

"I know ... well, anyway," said Ms Cunard, "... the government had this great plan to solve it called Internment and when that wasn't working someone thought up the 'five techniques' ...which were basically what the Nazis used to do ... which were really old fashioned torture techniques that stretch right back to middle ages. You know the sort of things... Stress positions, hooding, deprivation of sleep, food, light ...of course none of them really worked in terms of extracting useful information but they did disorientate people and trust me after two hours in that thing with no light and unable to stretch he's going to be so disorientated he won't be in any state to cause us any trouble... I was in a bit of a mess after three minutes."

"Can you be sure of that?"

"Well, I'm open to other plans, Emily... but I just can't think of any ... except kill him?"

"Well... we can't do that?" said Emily but she found that her statement came out as a question. "Then again he did try to kill you?"

"He tied me up," considered Ms Cunard, "...he didn't try to kill me ...that I know of ...but I did provoke him ...and I don't want to bring the police into this. Remember our aim is to get money out of him and..-"

They had reached the end of the school drive now.

"You ...we haven't thought this out," said Emily as they walked up the drive. "You're not thinking straight."

"No," said Ms Cunard opening the door. "Probably not ... but ... well, let's have a look at him anyway ...-"

They walked upstairs slowly.

"Okay," said Emily. "Just ... let's not decide what to do immediately."

When Ms Cunard reached the landing she opened the door to the kiln. A crack of light shot out. Instantly Emily's eye shot to the red light on the wall and back again. She hadn't thought to check it. She'd just assumed all would be as they had left it. Who could have switched it on?

"Stop!" she shouted but it was too late.

The white light was everywhere. Miss Cunard was on fire and she fell over spreading the fire. She did not even have time to scream before her face melted and her hair frazzled. She fell on a box of oil paints which should not have been kept anywhere near the kiln because the solvents were highly flammable.

Emily tried to escape from the fire but Ms Cunard's flaming body was blocking the top of the stairs. Soon most of the landing was aflame and the C.D.T. and Art Room doors were locked. She saw the fire extinguisher but it was clearly futile to try and control the flames with that and while she tried to figure out how to jump the fames in order to get to it or the stairs the fumes of the fire started to overcome her.

Within fifteen minutes she was dead.

Chapter 50

Sarah Wang didn't usually visit pubs. She felt self conscious in them. Not that people were rude to her exactly but one of two people might be rude. She traversed the public bar alone until she came up Terry and Gavin. From Simon's half arsed "researches" it hadn't been difficult to find out that they were usually to be found in this pub at this time and indeed most of the time when not round at Fred's. She approached the table. They were too busy talking rubbish about cricket to notice her.

"May I sit here?" she said and sat down next to Gavin who shifted in his seat slightly.

It was Terry as always who broke the ice. "Sarah," he said. "Fancy seeing you here." Breaking the ice was one of Terry's talents.

"It's not an accident," said Sarah. "I followed you here."

"Oh," said Terry.

"Why?" asked Gavin.

"Don't you know?" said Sarah.

"No. Do you fancy a drink?" said Gavin.

She looked at them both again. "You don't know, do you?" she said. Sarah produced a copy of the local paper from her handbag and laid it on the table. It was on the front page. It hadn't made the national news of course because it happened in Purley but never-the-less it was a big story in Croydon.

"A fire ...at Ealhswith School?" said Terry.

"Is everyone okay?" asked Gavin trying to read the paper upside down.

"No," said Sarah. "Miss Cunard is dead. And Emily."

"Oh ...," said Terry

"And ...someone else," added Sarah.

"Who?" asked Gavin.

"They don't know. The body was unrecognisable ... in fact there wasn't a body at all. Just ashes," said Sarah.

"Ashes?" said Gavin.

"Someone was inside the kiln," added Sarah. "It was switched on."

"We switched it on," said Gavin. He pushed his pint away. "We didn't know."

"Honestly," said Terry.

"How could you turn it on and not know who or what was inside it?"

"Well," explained Gavin, "the firing sign was on but ... no one had switched it on but it was all set to go ...so as we were there we ... well, I just went to check on the firing ...saw it all set up for a firing ..." There were a lot more words that did not explain his or Terry's actions. "...so I just assumed ... that it was meant to be but someone had forgotten to throw the main switch. So I did."

"Without opening it to check what was in there?" said Sarah.

"It was dark and I couldn't find the landing light switch ...so I just assumed that it was ... okay," said Gavin. "It was a logical assumption. Why would someone leave the firing sign on if it wasn't set up for firing? And ...well ... you wouldn't expect someone to be in there, would you?"

"It doesn't seem that logical now," said Terry, "but we were in a hurry."

"That's true," said Gavin. "We were in a hurry."

"You've just committed manslaughter," said Sarah, "and your excuse is that you were 'in a bit of a hurry'?"

"Well, yes, ...I suppose it is. I expect when you look at a lot of manslaughters you'll probably find they were down to someone being in too much of a hurry," said Gavin.

"You're priceless, Gavin," said Sarah breaking into a short laugh and then feeling and looking guilty for laughing. "I'm sorry," she added. "I know it shouldn't be funny but it is ... a bit."

"But what was he doing in there?" said Terry.

"Or she?" said Sarah.

"Yes," said Gavin, "I mean to be fair to myself you don't expect to find a person inside a kiln, do you? I mean you can't get inside one and lock yourself in by accident ...not that one anyway ... "

Sarah reached over to the paper and pulled it back towards her and looked at the headline again. "Well," she said, "they think they found Miss Cunard although she was recognisable by her jewellery. And they think that one of the bodies may be Emily. And I know Simon and Fred aren't dead. Who does that leave who was likely to have been there?"

"Humphrey," said Terry.

"But who would put him inside there?" asked Gavin.

"It must have been Simon... Or Fred," said Sarah. "Who else would have a motive?"

"We could ... have a motive," said Terry. "I suppose ...but it wasn't us...-"

"I know," said Sarah.

"How?" said Terry.

"You don't have violence in you," said Sarah.

"What does that mean?" said Terry.

"It means," said Sarah, "that you don't have violence in you. Of course I couldn't say absolutely not but people like you don't do that kind of violence."

"But we were there," said Terry.

"And I switched it on," said Gavin.

"Well, hopefully the police will never know that," said Sarah.

"They're bound to work out we're involved," said Terry.

"How?" asked Sarah. "I thought Emily and Humphrey did most of the firing."

"Yes," said Gavin. "They'd set it up. I just used to pop in to check that everything was going okay. And you hardly went there at all, Terry...?"

"That's true," said Terry. "That's ... true... ".

"And Humphrey, Emily and Miss Cunard were dead," said Sarah. "So who's to know there's a connection with you?"

"That's a good point," said Terry.

"The question for you two now is what about Simon Chu?" said Sarah.

"What about him?" asked Gavin.

"Well, this must be his work," said Sarah.

"It was an accident?" said Gavin.

"Well, it was an accident you turned the kiln on," said Sarah. "But was it an accident Humphrey was in the kiln? Maybe you've been framed? Simon was in a Triad."

"He used to be in a Triad," said Terry. "You said yourself that was a long time ago and...-"

"So you don't think he's ruthless enough to kill three people?" said Sarah.

Gavin picked up the newspaper and perused it again. "Well,..." he said. "According to this one of them was inside the kiln and the other two lying outside? Sounds to me like a cock up of some kind to me."

"I don't see Simon Chu as a ruthless killer ...," said Terry.

"He is," said Sarah.

"Well, perhaps he is ...but I have to say I haven't seen it. And I am an actor," said Terry. "I watch other people.... because it's my job ...and I didn't see somebody who was just a psychopath."

"Well," said Sarah Wang, "psychopaths can be very charming people. Look I'm his cousin and I'm telling you that under that art student exterior he throws up ... -"

"Well," said Gavin, "that may be the cause I would point out that when he kidnapped me ,,,you were there too...- and you seem to me to be fairly...-"

"We're all in this together now," said Sarah.

Chapter 51

"But why would he?" said Terry. "Why would Simon deliberately...-"

"Because you're reaching the end?" said Sarah. "Once you've manufactured enough what is the point of you any more...? He won't want you taking that knowledge away ... - "

"Well, ...." began Gavin.

"You don't really believe Fred's line about turning it into a legitimate business... ?"

Terry played with his beer mat.

"Well, I don't think either of them would go to the lengths of ...-" began Gavin.

"Why not?" said Sarah.

"Because people don't," said Gavin.

"People you've known don't" said Sarah.

"Well, Simon may have left a Triad years ago but they didn't come after him or anything... he just goes round saying he's still a member," said Gavin. "I'd say his connection was very...-"

"If there are loose ends and you can then you tie them up then you do" said Sarah.

"You seem to know a lot about this...?" said Terry. "But I thought Triads were like golf clubs - they didn't let ladies in?"

"Ladies can join Triads," said Sarah. "We're just second class people in them. And no I've never have been a member but I know how they think and I know how Fred thinks too. Fred's a villain as well you know...? ...just a different kind. An equal opportunities one with inherited wealth. Where do you he got the escort agency I run for him from? That's why he got obsessed with his antiques ...it makes him feel legitimate and respectable. And why he wants to be on the telly so much... It's pitiable. He'll never make it ...-"

"He seems to me doing okay... " said Gavin.

"Yes, but he doesn't think so. He's bitter."

"How does it work with him and Simon?" asked Terry. "They seem ver... -?"

"Fred's in-laws were rubbed out by the Wo Shing Wo ...so he had to adopt Simon. Simon doesn't really like him ...or him Simon. Simon blames him for his parents death somehow I think but he couldn't possibly have been responsible ...he was in the UK then. If anyone's to blame ... for all I know it wasn't Simon himself...? The story Fred tells is they were killed by a hurricane but that's obviously not true."

"I noticed Fred always calls him his step-son not his son?" said Terry.

"So how are you related...?" asked Gavin. "To Simon... I mean I know you're his cousin...-?"

"I'm Fred's sister's daughter. Simon's my mum's brother's son. Simon's dad and my dad were in Wo Shing Wo together. After Simon's parents died we all moved to London and with the money my parents inherited from Chu's parents they sent me to Ealhswith School . Fred already had money but he just sent Simon to the local comprehensive. That's one reason he's so bitter and fucked up. Trust me ...if you're a problem to him he'll do you in."

"You seem very sure of that," said Gavin, "but not everyone becomes a murderer just because they went to a comprehensive?"

"It all sounds very complicated," said Terry.

"Trust me," said Sarah. "I know them all better than you do. Once you aren't any more use to him he'll do you in. Your only chance is to do him in first."

"There must be another...-"

"There isn't," said Sarah. She handed Gavin a piece of paper. "There's my number. I've got to go now. Ring me when you've both grown a pair and we'll deal with him before he kills us."

They stared at her.

"Don't look at me like that," she said. "He's a murderer. The police will never get him. He's too good. But I'm going to kill him. Miss Cunard may have been a nasty piece of work but she didn't educate us to be walked over by men. She taught us to fight back – like Matilda against Stephen. I'm going to protect myself. If you two don't care about your safety then do nothing ... but if it goes wrong for me he'll surely come for you and I'm going to do it."

"But...- " Gavin began.

"Just think about it. Give me a ring in a couple of days if you've decided you're in. Or don't. And I wouldn't call the police unless you want to spend a very long time inside."

Terry was going to say something but before he could think of it she was gone.

They were both too drunk to stagger after her.

"She's not serious is she?" said Terry.

Chapter 52

After Sarah went the afternoon dragged into evening and their pints took longer to swallow. There seemed no obvious solution to the situation they were in and drink did not help make any of it clearer. Never-the-less Terry and Gavin ran over their lack of options, illogical guesses and irrational opinions over and over again.

"Well, the best plan we've come up with," said Gavin, "is probably the one you originally had... get a moonflask and plant it on Simon Chu then call the police anonymously ...or something."

"That was never a good plan," said Terry.

"No, there's those photos of you he's got for one thing," said Gavin.

"Well," said Terry, "we either get rid of Simon Chu or ...as Sarah says this thing goes on forever. And I can only see two ways to get rid of him..."

"There's still the moonflask I broke," pointed out Gavin, "and the pieces that Fred has 'borrowed' from the Fairfield to make copies from or sell on ... if they investigate Simon and find those ...-"

"But we can't plant anything on him," said Terry, "and all the stuff is round Fred's shop. And the police don't have our prints ...unless you've got a criminal record?"

"We could grass up Fred," said Gavin.

"But what if we grass Fred up and they don't come for Simon as well?" said Terry. "He'll come for us and all our prints are round there... and even if the police don't actually have our prints now...-"

"Well, we can't leave Emily to murder Simon," said Gavin.

"Why not?" said Terry.

Gavin looked at Terry.

Terry looked at Gavin.

"No, I suppose we can't," said Terry with a sigh.

"So we're agreed," said Gavin starting on his ninth pint of bitter, "that our best bet is ...to fit up Simon in some way..."

"How?" said Terry.

"I don't know ... I haven't come up with an answer to that yet," said Gavin. There seemed to be no clean escape route from any of this to Gavin. It was a maze of endless nasty permutations. At one time there had seemed ways out but now there seemed only lots of different ways towards the same ultimate disasters.

"You don't want me to break into the Fairfield again?" sighed Terry.

"No," said Gavin.

"What then?" said Terry.

"I don't know," said Gavin. "We need something to place him at the scene ... I suppose...". He got up and wobbled to the bar.

On his way he tripped and fell over.

Gavin looked at the carpet. It was inches from his face. It was red with a pattern of small randomly overlapping red circles about an inch in diameter all over it. He's seen it somewhere before. Or he'd seen something similar. Gavin heard the bar lady tell Terry very politely, loudly and firmly that she thought that they'd both had enough now. He felt Terry's arm reach down. Terry helped him up ...falling over twice in the process himself too.

Together they staggered to the door then down the travelator before realising that the travelator was for coming up on not going down which they both knew but seemed to have slipped their mind somehow. They went back up the travelator and down the concrete stairs very carefully.

"I don't think getting drunk has helped," said Terry.

"I think it has," said Gavin. "I think I've got the answer ...We don't need a moonflask we just need to plant something on Simon that's indisputably from the school."

"But why," said Terry as they tottered through the rain, "would he have something on him from the school? And what?"

"It doesn't have to be big," answered Gavin. "It can be very very small... indeed."

Chapter 53

"The question is," said Inspector Derwin dangling the evidence bag in front of Simon Chu, "...how did this get into your car, Simon?"

Inside the bag were red granite chippings. Inspector Derwin could tell Simon had no idea how they had got there.

Simon said nothing.

Inspector Derwin considered what Simon might be thinking. Either he was concealing something or he really couldn't even identify where the chippings might have come from. It was 'a googly' producing red granite chippings like this but even so Inspector Derwinhad expected more response from Simon.

"They can have only come from one place, can't they?" he said.

This was not quite true there are many places with red granite chippings but he still thought it was worth a shot because Simon may not know that. He waited for dramatic effect. Waits for dramatic effect were something Inspector Derwin was noted for by his peers. He cleared his throat. Clearing your throat could come over as corny but Inspector Derwin thought he did a particularly good and threatening throat clear. "Ealhswith School?" he said.

Then he watched for a reaction on Simon Chu's face. He got one too. Not a big one but a distinguishable one. He had his prey rattled.

"Many properties have granite chipping driveways," said Mr Charlivier who was Simon's solicitor.

"Not many," replied Inspector Derwin, "have red ones in Purley or Croydon. The natural geology is chalk."

He knew this because Mr Gavin Clout had told him this during an extraordinary interview the day before where he had given a statement containing much truth and a few bits of information that were inaccurate. Inspector Derwin knew or suspected that it was not the whole truth but he was inclined to let the odd piece of untruth slip if he thought it would get him a conviction.

Mr Clout had been an easy interviewee. So easy to bait that it was frankly boring. Contrastingly Simon Chu was a tough nut or someone who imagined himself a tough nut and that was always much more fun. There's no fun in taunting cowards. Simon Chu continued to say nothing.

"This is a potential murder investigation, Mr Chu," said Inspector Derwin. "We have witnesses that have seen you go into that school after hours."

"They saw some people visit there one evening," said Mr Charlivier. "From a distance ... Only one of whom they claim may have been of Chinese origin. That and some red granite chippings are not enough to build a case on."

"There's also the fakeware," said Inspector Derwin.

"Owning fakeware isn't a crime," said Mr Charlivier. "Only selling it."

"Indeed," said Inspector Derwin. "However, we have reason to believe that your client here is also member of a Chinese fraternal organisation with possible criminal connections."

"He denies that," said Mr Charlivier.

"Does he?" said Inspector Derwin. "Well, you don't have to, Simon. Being a member of a fraternal organisation isn't a crime in its self. Mr Charlivier and myself are members of the same fraternal organisation for example. Aren't we, Mr Charlivier?"

"Indeed," said Mr Charlivier.

"One that prizes and indeed encourages entrepreneurial attitudes and behaviour. I think your scheme of manufacturing near perfect replicas of ancient pieces of Chinese porcelain has much to recommend it as a business. Perhaps there's some arrangement we can come to over this ... after all we don't have, as Mr Charlivier points out, enough to convict you of anything. However, at the same time, if any of this was to become public knowledge I don't think it would be good publicity for you, or for your step-father's business or for the Council or for us? So I was wondering if we could come to an ...accommodation..?"

"An accommodation...?" said Simon.

"Well," said Inspector Derwin. "Perhaps if you're not, as you say, in this Chinese fraternal society any longer, Simon, ... it might be time to join another closer to home?"

Chapter 54

Eventually Terry stopped going to Gavin's church. It was intermittent at first. Sometimes Terry would drop Gavin a line or send him a postcard telling him he was away filming or something. He would miss some weeks. Then he would miss some months. He hadn't stopped lay preaching as a hobby he just didn't seem to go to Gavin's church that often any more.

Gavin would often still go to 'the Forum' for a pint or six after services and after serving the coffee after the services. He liked the company of another drinker but it wasn't essential. He hadn't as far as he knew fallen out with Terry ... they just drifted apart. Simon Chu and Fred Keane had stopped bothering them about moonflasks and porcelain and it seemed without that impetus neither of them felt the need to hang out with each other as much anymore.

Chapter 55

One day about three months later Sarah Wang turned up at "the Forum". Gavin supposed she must be dressed attractively from the way other men seemed to look at her but he wasn't sure what constituted fashion or attractive clothes on a woman. He wasn't particularly bothered by clothes. He only modernised his own when other people at the office complained they looked worn or had holes in them. He had his job back now but wasn't sure how long it would last before he was laid off again. Money was clearly silly tight at work as they were using microscope slides to cover over the cracks in the windows. At least now he had another skill to fall back on, he thought, even if he wasn't sure how much use it would be in the wider world.

"I was wondering if I'd find you here," said Sarah taking the seat in the booth beside him near a tasteful reproduction of a lithograph called 'damnatio ad bestias at the Colosseum' in a deserted section of the pub. The pub was increasingly deserted these days – it couldn't be long before someone decided the space would be better utilised as another shop.

"Oh hello...," said.

"Can I buy you a drink?" asked Sarah.

Gavin said that he'd like another pint of bitter.

Sarah went to the bar and then returned again with a pint of bitter and a pint of lager.

"How are things?" she said.

Gavin was never very good at small talk. "Okay," he found himself saying. After a moment or two he added "So you didn't murder Simon Chu then?"

"Not yet," said Sarah Wang. "No someone tipped off the police – against my advice."

"It just seemed to be the obvious thing to do to me..."

"I'm glad you didn't lie."

"I'm no good at lying. Never sound plausible...-"

"Yes, well, there can't be many people who'd think to fit him up by laying gravel on him."

"I'm not sure it was my best idea," said Gavin, "but it did make him and the police and you and Fred go away ... until now."

Sarah put a hand on his knee. "Oh don't worry, Gavin, I'm going away. I just came to ask you if you wanted to come with me?"

"Come with you where?"

"Hong Kong ... then Beijing ... I'm going back to my roots..."

"Your roots?"

"You've noticed Simon Chu isn't on trial or in prison?"

"Yes.... That is neither I or Terry have heard...-"

"Then you know something went wrong...-"

"Well, I can't control what the police do with information I give them."

"Why do you think there is organised crime, Gavin?" asked Sarah.

Gavin considered. It wasn't a question that he had really ever considered.

"Because people organise it?" he eventually said.

"Because of corruption," said Sarah.

"And that's why Simon's not in prison...?" asked Gavin.

"They say that they haven't got the evidence to link him to the murders? Can you believe that?"

"Well, there isn't any evidence," said Gavin. "Apart from what myself and Terry fabricated using bits of gravel."

"Seems they visited Fred's shop and found the fakeware and then that pig called Derwin decided that he'd quite like to go into exporting Ming dynasty China too. So the way I see it there's only one solution," said Sarah. "One person should take hold of all the items and then the cash doesn't have to be divided up between too many people. And then I thought I thought about Miss Cunard and I thought about what she would want me to do with the moonflasks and the pots and all the porcelain pieces and all the copies we made of them. And then it just occurred to me that since they're in Fred's shop and Fred leaves me to look after his businesses ... I should ...take them."

"So you ... took them?"

"Yes . Crated them all up, booked a shipping container and they're on their way to Hong Kong where I'm going to sell them with the help of Fred's contacts. I took his contact book too. Of course the items won't fetch as much when I sell them to private buyers in mainland China as they would at auction but I'd rather I had the money and spent it in China than a corrupt policeman and solicitor spent any in Surrey."

"Well," said Gavin, "it's nothing to do with me ...really ... really I just never want to see a moonflask ever ... ever again..."

Sarah laughed. "I guessed you wouldn't, Gavin." She put her hand round the back of his neck and stroked his head. "But I'm telling you for a reason. When the Inspector discovers that all the porcelain pieces have disappeared from Fred's shop he's likely to be very angry ... in fact I wouldn't put it past him to fit Simon or Fred up for something or other ... they know too much. And then there's the possibility that Simon will think it's something to do with you and Terry and come after you two again ...or something. You're a loose end, Gavin. Bad things can happen to lose ends."

"Can they?"

"That's why I'm offering to you to come with me ..."

"Is that why?" asked Gavin.

Sarah kissed Gavin on the cheek.

"And because I like you, Gavin. I don't want anything bad to happen to you because ... you ... I like you ... you know..."

"It's a bit sudden," said Gavin.

"Do you like women, Gavin?" said Sarah.

"I don't dislike women," said Gavin.

Sarah took Gavin's head in her hands and kissed Gavin on the lips. Gavin didn't push her away but he didn't reciprocate her. He didn't find it repulsive. He didn't not like it. He just felt he could take it or leave it so he left it.

"Is there someone ..?" she said.

"No," said Gavin. "There's no one ... I ...- I...- "

"Are you gay?" asked Sarah.

"No, I don't think so ..."

"You don't think so? Are you ...you know ... ?"

"Sarah, I'm not ... ," Gavin began. He couldn't find the right words. He looked out the window. "It's very kind of you to offer, Sarah," he said, "but for one thing I've got a life here."

"Gavin you go to work, you go to that church and you go the pub and you look at bits of rock all day and there's nothing wrong with that but... you've got no life here."

"I go to test matches as well," said Gavin.

"It's okay, Gavin," said Sarah putting her hand on his knee.

Together they looked out the window for a while. It was raining heavily. A couple were sheltering beneath one of the walkways round the edge of the Centre. A few people ran across the desolate open spaces. One of them had their umbrella blown inside out but did not stop to turn it outside in. Someone decided to walk up the travelator. The travelator had stopped because it was Sunday. Clouds passed slowly overhead and rain drummed reassuringly against the window. There were not many people either outside or inside the pub. There was a flash of lightening but no thunder that they could hear.

Eventually Sarah finished her lager and got up.

"Look after yourself Gavin," she said.

"I will," said Gavin.

"Zài jiàn," said Sarah.

Then she walked out of the pub.

Gavin never saw her again.

About the Author

The Xuande Emperor (Chinese: 宣德帝; pinyin: Xuāndédì; 16 March 13991] – 31 January 1435), personal name Zhu Zhanji (朱瞻基), was the fifth emperor of the Ming dynasty of China, ruling from 1425 to 1435. His era name "Xuande" means "Proclamation of Virtue". He is not the author. This is the author's website: [http:\\\www.aemiller.net The author abides on twitter at @Seaweed_Novella . Please visit your favorite ebook retailer to discover other books by Zhu Zhanji

