gave her the bent eye. 'Tinker's my barker, the
best in the business.'
‘I apologise, Lovejoy.' She went red. 'And Roger Box-grove. And
Lydia your apprentice. Tinker says phone Stella Entwistle, and how long are you
going to be Bran Mantle. I didn't understand that. And a cross middle-aged lady
called Mavis. Aureole is going to sue you for every last farthing for wrecking
her flat.'
That last really surprised me. You make Aureole feel needed, and
what thanks do you get?
'Some others I've written down.' She took my arm. We went inside.
'Look at them when we've had our snack. I have a suite booked at the George.'
The thought of grub made me swoon. 'You've . . . ?'
She smiled prettily, explained, 'I'm your chainer. I've hired you,
Lovejoy.'
'Look, love,' I began, embarrassed.
'Please don't feel at all put out. You're paid for and above
board.' She coloured some more. 'Well, not quite that , you understand. Arranged.'
'Who with? I've no money to go taking anybody out.'
'Aureole.' She was pleased with herself. 'I've never done this
sort of thing. But I do believe you should start with the creator of a system,
don't you? You did invent chain
dating, Lovejoy?'
The place had been tidied up.
'But I didn't think I'd be anybody's link.'
'Well, let's consider that while we have supper. We can leave for
the George when we're ready.'
Things were looking up. I smiled at Faye, thinking what a
beautiful lass she actually was. Some women really do get it right.
10
What do I have to do?' I asked Faye as we approached the George. I
like the old place. In its day it's been everything from a brothel to a lazaro,
plague hospital to a pilgrim's rest.
'I'm a newspaper columnist. There's your answer.'
She led the way through the lounge. Hardly anybody in, the evening
yet young. A crusty Colonel Blimp nodded over his Times. The log fire blazed. A
waitress swayed about, black dress, starched apron. Two ladies sat sipping tea,
hot crumpets in the dish. It was all happening.
For a second I wondered whether to scarper, but chucked the idea
as aroma wafted out from the carvery. News columnists and me don't mix. I never
read what they make up.
'When, Lovejoy?' she asked in the foyer.
'When what?' I yelped. 'Er, sorry?'
She did the woman's non-smile, so innocent you could tell she was
laughing.
'When would you like supper?'
'Now, please.' It's not my fault if women never eat. Because she'd
had one chip and a lettuce last Easter, was I expected to starve?
She wanted the table moved, our seats shifted. I swear waiters
like this sort of thing. She had two rushing about demented.
'Look,' I said, uneasy. 'Are you investigating that dig thing?
Maldon?'
'Let's order first, Lovejoy.'
We did the menu mutter, then I got down to it. No good ruining
free nosh by worrying over past sins.
'It wasn't me last October, Faye,' I confessed. 'It wasn't my
fault that land got sold. Maldon authorities allowed builders to erect 450 houses
right on the most valuable historic site in the entire world. Well, in Maldon,'
I ended lamely. 'Can I have your bread?' Women don't like bread, dunno why.
'Please take it.' She sat, chin on her interlaced fingers, and
said with wide-eyed erotic innocence, 'It isn't what folk are saying, is it?'
'No,' I said, swiftly buttering her roll in case she changed her
mind. 'They would say that. Look,
Faye. Ask why an ancient town allows a property company to bulldoze a rural
site.' I glanced about, nervous. 'Not far from Heybridge. The council is only
spending public money to help the homeless, so what better reason? Why not build in that particular spot?'
'Envelope, please,' she quipped. 'The answer is?'
'Because it's the only untouched Iron Age town we've got left,
love!' Tears filled my eyes. I couldn't help it. 'That Heybridge site was a
pristine mediaeval borough, on an Anglo-Saxon township, on a Roman colony, on
an Iron Age town!'
'Are you all right?'
'Course I am, silly cow. It's the onion.' The soup was
best in the business.'
‘I apologise, Lovejoy.' She went red. 'And Roger Box-grove. And
Lydia your apprentice. Tinker says phone Stella Entwistle, and how long are you
going to be Bran Mantle. I didn't understand that. And a cross middle-aged lady
called Mavis. Aureole is going to sue you for every last farthing for wrecking
her flat.'
That last really surprised me. You make Aureole feel needed, and
what thanks do you get?
'Some others I've written down.' She took my arm. We went inside.
'Look at them when we've had our snack. I have a suite booked at the George.'
The thought of grub made me swoon. 'You've . . . ?'
She smiled prettily, explained, 'I'm your chainer. I've hired you,
Lovejoy.'
'Look, love,' I began, embarrassed.
'Please don't feel at all put out. You're paid for and above
board.' She coloured some more. 'Well, not quite that , you understand. Arranged.'
'Who with? I've no money to go taking anybody out.'
'Aureole.' She was pleased with herself. 'I've never done this
sort of thing. But I do believe you should start with the creator of a system,
don't you? You did invent chain
dating, Lovejoy?'
The place had been tidied up.
'But I didn't think I'd be anybody's link.'
'Well, let's consider that while we have supper. We can leave for
the George when we're ready.'
Things were looking up. I smiled at Faye, thinking what a
beautiful lass she actually was. Some women really do get it right.
10
What do I have to do?' I asked Faye as we approached the George. I
like the old place. In its day it's been everything from a brothel to a lazaro,
plague hospital to a pilgrim's rest.
'I'm a newspaper columnist. There's your answer.'
She led the way through the lounge. Hardly anybody in, the evening
yet young. A crusty Colonel Blimp nodded over his Times. The log fire blazed. A
waitress swayed about, black dress, starched apron. Two ladies sat sipping tea,
hot crumpets in the dish. It was all happening.
For a second I wondered whether to scarper, but chucked the idea
as aroma wafted out from the carvery. News columnists and me don't mix. I never
read what they make up.
'When, Lovejoy?' she asked in the foyer.
'When what?' I yelped. 'Er, sorry?'
She did the woman's non-smile, so innocent you could tell she was
laughing.
'When would you like supper?'
'Now, please.' It's not my fault if women never eat. Because she'd
had one chip and a lettuce last Easter, was I expected to starve?
She wanted the table moved, our seats shifted. I swear waiters
like this sort of thing. She had two rushing about demented.
'Look,' I said, uneasy. 'Are you investigating that dig thing?
Maldon?'
'Let's order first, Lovejoy.'
We did the menu mutter, then I got down to it. No good ruining
free nosh by worrying over past sins.
'It wasn't me last October, Faye,' I confessed. 'It wasn't my
fault that land got sold. Maldon authorities allowed builders to erect 450 houses
right on the most valuable historic site in the entire world. Well, in Maldon,'
I ended lamely. 'Can I have your bread?' Women don't like bread, dunno why.
'Please take it.' She sat, chin on her interlaced fingers, and
said with wide-eyed erotic innocence, 'It isn't what folk are saying, is it?'
'No,' I said, swiftly buttering her roll in case she changed her
mind. 'They would say that. Look,
Faye. Ask why an ancient town allows a property company to bulldoze a rural
site.' I glanced about, nervous. 'Not far from Heybridge. The council is only
spending public money to help the homeless, so what better reason? Why not build in that particular spot?'
'Envelope, please,' she quipped. 'The answer is?'
'Because it's the only untouched Iron Age town we've got left,
love!' Tears filled my eyes. I couldn't help it. 'That Heybridge site was a
pristine mediaeval borough, on an Anglo-Saxon township, on a Roman colony, on
an Iron Age town!'
'Are you all right?'
'Course I am, silly cow. It's the onion.' The soup was
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