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Authors: Susan Lodge
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paracetamol. My heart has started to race. “Go on then! Where?” I prompt.
“Remember that storm the day after we came back from holiday. We sat here watching the rain trickle down the wall over there.” She points to the corner of the window where the roof overhangs the Juliet balcony.
“I fixed the leak that afternoon after you were called into work. I had nothing else to do so I tried to make a repair. The wood panelling is loose, and if you move it you can push the ceiling tile away. The outside tile on the overhang was damaged so I covered it on the inside with a plastic bag to make it waterproof then wedged it in place with a piece of wood—shaped like an elephant.” She bites her lip and looks warily at me. “I tried several objects: the Rubik cube, books, but the backside of the elephant was the exact fit. It was meant to be a temporary repair, but I forgot to tell you.”
Simultaneously we haul ourselves up. Lyn stands on a chair and manipulates the wood panel by the window. After a lot of persuasion, it shifts and she pushes her arm up and removes the ceiling tile. Her head disappears through the crack, and moments later she reappears with the elephant. She climbs down and puts in on the carpet, and we peer at the mahogany coloured object in fascination.
“Shall we try and open it?” she asks.
“No! I think we should leave it as we found it.” I pick up my phone and punch in Bo Peep’s number.
Bo Peep is sitting on my living room floor inspecting the rescued elephant with her colleague.
I see nothing but a wooden elephant. She sees a smuggling implement and after a visual examination she produces a nail file and inserts it in the seam underneath the elephant’s body. After a few minutes of manipulation the elephant springs open like a chocolate egg. Plastic packets of white powder spill out. I expect her to open one to dip her finger in and taste it, but she assures me that it would be a rather stupid thing to do.
“Cocaine—about a kilo by the look of it. No wonder he was keen to retrieve it.” Bo Peep carefully packs the drugs along with elephant into plastic bags. She then settles down to take a statement from Lyn.
As soon as everyone has left, I text DS Salter and tell him about the elephant. On impulse I add a p.s.— Cream cakes are a wicked indulgence and should be arrested or at least cautioned. I add a kiss then hastily replace it with a smiley face.
I check my mobile frequently for the next two days. There is no reply, and perhaps it’s for the best.
Two weeks later, Lyn is sitting on my sofa whilst I am arranging a very expensive bowl of “please forgive me” roses from Henry, who has just returned from a business trip. He is leaning against the breakfast bar looking miserable.
“I’m really sorry, Shona. I should never have brought that creep Nick along that night, but he seemed such a good sport on the golf course.”
I walk over and give him a quick hug. “Yeah, I know exactly what you mean. It’s okay. I was the biggest fool in all this.”
Lyn is not so forgiving; she looks daggers at him. “Good sport! You should have found out his handicap—the fact he was a vicious crook.”
Henry raises his eyebrows. “Well at least I didn’t stuff a kilo of cocaine in the roof to stop a leak.” He smirks, and I am instantly reminded of a certain detective who I am desperate to forget.
“Far healthier use for it. I kept it off the streets,” Lyn replies.
I grin and hold up a hand. “Don’t have a domestic on my account. I am the idiot in the whole sorry episode. Picking boyfriends is certainly my handicap.”
Quite frankly, I want them to leave. Even though I love them to bits, seeing them together just reminds me that they have something I yearn for—someone to love and trust and argue with. Even quarrelling they smoulder. They are right now giving each other a “wait until I get you home look”—to an evening full of steamy sex I suspect.
The doorbell
“Remember that storm the day after we came back from holiday. We sat here watching the rain trickle down the wall over there.” She points to the corner of the window where the roof overhangs the Juliet balcony.
“I fixed the leak that afternoon after you were called into work. I had nothing else to do so I tried to make a repair. The wood panelling is loose, and if you move it you can push the ceiling tile away. The outside tile on the overhang was damaged so I covered it on the inside with a plastic bag to make it waterproof then wedged it in place with a piece of wood—shaped like an elephant.” She bites her lip and looks warily at me. “I tried several objects: the Rubik cube, books, but the backside of the elephant was the exact fit. It was meant to be a temporary repair, but I forgot to tell you.”
Simultaneously we haul ourselves up. Lyn stands on a chair and manipulates the wood panel by the window. After a lot of persuasion, it shifts and she pushes her arm up and removes the ceiling tile. Her head disappears through the crack, and moments later she reappears with the elephant. She climbs down and puts in on the carpet, and we peer at the mahogany coloured object in fascination.
“Shall we try and open it?” she asks.
“No! I think we should leave it as we found it.” I pick up my phone and punch in Bo Peep’s number.
Bo Peep is sitting on my living room floor inspecting the rescued elephant with her colleague.
I see nothing but a wooden elephant. She sees a smuggling implement and after a visual examination she produces a nail file and inserts it in the seam underneath the elephant’s body. After a few minutes of manipulation the elephant springs open like a chocolate egg. Plastic packets of white powder spill out. I expect her to open one to dip her finger in and taste it, but she assures me that it would be a rather stupid thing to do.
“Cocaine—about a kilo by the look of it. No wonder he was keen to retrieve it.” Bo Peep carefully packs the drugs along with elephant into plastic bags. She then settles down to take a statement from Lyn.
As soon as everyone has left, I text DS Salter and tell him about the elephant. On impulse I add a p.s.— Cream cakes are a wicked indulgence and should be arrested or at least cautioned. I add a kiss then hastily replace it with a smiley face.
I check my mobile frequently for the next two days. There is no reply, and perhaps it’s for the best.
Two weeks later, Lyn is sitting on my sofa whilst I am arranging a very expensive bowl of “please forgive me” roses from Henry, who has just returned from a business trip. He is leaning against the breakfast bar looking miserable.
“I’m really sorry, Shona. I should never have brought that creep Nick along that night, but he seemed such a good sport on the golf course.”
I walk over and give him a quick hug. “Yeah, I know exactly what you mean. It’s okay. I was the biggest fool in all this.”
Lyn is not so forgiving; she looks daggers at him. “Good sport! You should have found out his handicap—the fact he was a vicious crook.”
Henry raises his eyebrows. “Well at least I didn’t stuff a kilo of cocaine in the roof to stop a leak.” He smirks, and I am instantly reminded of a certain detective who I am desperate to forget.
“Far healthier use for it. I kept it off the streets,” Lyn replies.
I grin and hold up a hand. “Don’t have a domestic on my account. I am the idiot in the whole sorry episode. Picking boyfriends is certainly my handicap.”
Quite frankly, I want them to leave. Even though I love them to bits, seeing them together just reminds me that they have something I yearn for—someone to love and trust and argue with. Even quarrelling they smoulder. They are right now giving each other a “wait until I get you home look”—to an evening full of steamy sex I suspect.
The doorbell
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