It was about midnight. The lights were on in the next bungalow. It was the man who'd followed me. I knew that. Throop. My lights were off. The telly was doing its stuff but I'd turned the sound down.
This figure moved in silhouette. My kitchen door was glass so he was easily visible.
Probably thought I was out. I got the poker and crept to the little passageway. The stupid man was fumbling noisily with the latch. Some sleuth.
I hid in the loo doorway, trembling. My mouth was dry. In he blundered. His glasses gleamed in the part light as I leapt and grabbed him.
'Right, Throop, you bastard!' He was too astonished to struggle. I clicked on the light.
'Greetings, Lovejoy!' It was Algernon, pleased we'd met up.
'You stupid…' I let him go. 'You frightened me to death.'
'Did you not realize?' He went all modest. 'I'm being your… undercover agent style='font-style:normal;mso-bidi-font-style:italic'>!'
'Brew up,' I told him. trying to keep the quaver out of my voice and trying to hide the poker. I felt like braining him.
'Certainly!' He breezed into the kitchen, falling over a stool. 'How perfectly marvellous that someone so perspicacious failed to penetrate my subterfuge style='font-style:normal;mso-bidi-font-style: italic'>!' he nattered, chuckling. He pulled a kitchen drawer out all the way. The crash of the cutlery as it spread over the tiled floor made me jump a mile. Unabashed, he wagged a finger playfully while he grabbed the kettle.
'You should have realized, Lovejoy! Algernon sort of goes with Throop!'
'What else?' I put my head in my hands. A spray of water wet me through, just Algernon trying to fill the kettle.
It was rapidly becoming a bad dream. Here I was trying to slip about quietly, a difficult, risky business with that sinister nut Rink on my tail. I'd thought I was doing reasonably well. Now, thanks to Algernon, following me would be like shadowing a carnival. I had to get clear.
'And I have another surprise for you!' he crowed, plugging the flex in with a blue flash.
'Please, Algernon.' I couldn't take any more. My heart was still thumping.
'No, Lovejoy!' he cried roguishly, spilling tea round his feet and skilfully nudging a cup into the sink as he turned. I heard it break on the stainless steel. 'I won't tell you! It's a surprise?
Somehow he'd managed to pour hot water into the teapot though it was touch and go and a lot of luck went into it. To save breakages I got the cups. He broke the fridge door looking for the milk which I'd got prominently displayed on the table anyway. He prattled on about his journey, hugging himself with glee about the mysterious surprise he'd lined up for me. I had a headache.
Tush off, Algernon,' I said.
'Very well, Lovejoy!' he cried. 'Your tea's all ready! See you in tomorrow's fair dawning!
And when you wake…" He went all red and bashful and tripped head over heels down the passage. The door crashed. I could have sworn something splintered. I listened, wincing. No tinkle of glass, thank God. Another crash. He'd made it home, the next bungalow. I took a sip of tea and spat it out. He'd forgotten the bloody teabags.
I sighed and looked for a bottle of beer. A secret with Algernon's like a salvo. I'd have to get some sleep. Algernon's secret would be on the night boat. Always assuming her car wasn't too long to fit on the deck.
Somebody was in the kitchen again. Light tottered through curtains, still drawn. I vaguely remembered making love when it was dark. I forget to wind watches so there's no point in having one, and those new digital efforts are always trying to prove themselves. I could tell it was about afters even o'clock. I went to the bedroom window and peered out. Sure enough, a Lagonda by the shop.
I climbed back into bed, sitting up. In she came, lovely and floury from baking.
'Morning, Lovejoy, darling.'
'I'm supposed to be here alone,' I said bitterly.
She set the tray right and got back in with cold feet.
'You can't possibly manage without me, Lovejoy.'
'It'll be like a Bedouin caravan with you lot. How did you know I was here?'
'Algernon,' she said brightly. 'I persuaded him your welfare depends on me.'
'Anybody else?' I demanded. 'Jimmo? The Batemans? Jill?'
'Just me.' She dished breakfast out, smiling roguishly.
'You're going back. First boat.'
'No, Lovejoy,' she gave back calmly. 'You've to pay up.'
'Er,' I said uneasily. She must mean the sale. 'Well,' I said slowly, working it out as I went, 'I had a lot of expenses. I made about twenty per cent. Fifty-fifty?' I keep meaning to get one of those electric calculators.
She was shaking her head. It was a pity we could see ourselves in the mirror of the dressing-table opposite. She watched me in the pale light. I looked away casually.
'A day. Remember?' Hard as nails, women are.
'Oh.' Of course. I owed her a day. I thought hard. Maybe it wouldn't be too bad. I had a good dozen antiques dealers' addresses on the Isle. Some were supposed to be pretty fair. 'Well, Janie love -'
'Before you say it, Lovejoy,' she told me. 'No. No antiques. No dealers. No playing Bexon's silly game. One complete day. And ,' say what we do.'
I groaned.
'My hands are hurting,' I said bravely. 'They're agony -'
'And you can stop that,' she interrupted. It won't work.'
'Look, love -'
'We're shopping, Lovejoy.' She ticked them off on fingers. 'And you're going to cook me a lovely supper. Then you're going to sit with me in the evening, come for a walk and then seduce me in bed. Here. Beneath these very sheets.'
'What if we pass an antique shop?' I yelped, aghast. She'd gone demented.
'You will walk bravely past. With me.' She smiled, angelic.
I nodded, broken. Ever noticed how bossy women really are, deep down?
'When?'
'Whenever I say.' She smiled, boss. 'I'll let you know.'
Day dawned grimly and relentlessly.
CHAPTER XVII
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I PICKED up courage while we dressed. 'Is this your day?'
Janie thought for a couple of centuries. 'No, thank you.'
I cheered up at that. V 'I have a car coming. Nine o'clock.'
', 'I've cancelled it,' she said innocently. 'We don't want Lovejoy getting lost, do we?'
Of course we didn't, I assured her.
'Come on, then,' I said. 'Get your knickers on and we'll look around.'
'Cheek.'
We walked down to the shore. The river runs into a curved stony beach, only about a hundred yards across. The stones are a lovely blue-grey colour. Steep jagged rocks rise suddenly to form rather dour headlands. In the distance towards Douglas we could see the gaggle of chalets forming a holiday camp. I'd seen the sign for it during the drive along the cliff road.
'How noisy.' It was a racket, stones clacking and shuffling and the sea hissing between.
We gazed inland. The shale-floored inlet only ran about two hundred yards back from the water before it narrowed into a dark mountainous cleft filled by forest. A wooden bridge spanned the river there, presumably for us visitors to stroll across and up the steep hillside. Well, whatever turns you on, I thought. Then it occurred to me: what if it was Bexon's favourite walk? After all, he had to have some reason for coming this far out of town. Bushes and gorse everywhere. It would be a climb more than a stroll.
We walked over and explored the hillside. The footpath divided about a hundred feet from the bridge, one branch running inland along the glen floor to follow the river. The other climbed precipitously on planked steps round the headland. Janie chose left, so we followed that.
'Look. Palm trees.'
I was going to scoff, but they were. The valley bulged soon into a level, densely wooded swamp for about a quarter of a mile as far as I could tell. Somebody years ago had built tall little islands among the marsh, creating lagoons complete with palms.