Meanwhile Gardens by Charles Caselton Read Free Book Online

Liv asked, “Who was it then? On your ipod? You can’t leave us not knowing.”
    Ollie breathed a quiet sigh of relief. “Next time!” he grinned as he took Nicky’s arm and left to a chorus of disappointed groans.
    After a few yards Nicky stopped in her tracks, struck by a sudden realisation.
    “Oh I know who it is,” she said turning to face the group.
    “Shhhh! Nicks, let’s go.”
    “Ollie and I play air guitar to it.”
    “C’mon Nicks we really must be – ”
    “It’s Bush.”
    Ollie could feel himself blushing like a schoolgirl.
    “Bush?? That sub-Nirvana tosh?” Ger raised an eyebrow in exaggerated surprise. “Kinda retro I guess.”
    “Post-retro more like,” Liv took Ollie’s side. “The amount of times they’re listed as influences these days.”
    “Yeah, well, I needed something to throw me down the canal.”
    “It’s a wonder you didn’t throw yourself in it!” Clive howled.
    Nicky looked at her friend, “It
is
Bush isn’t it Ol?”
    Ollie didn’t reply. He looked back at the table, taking in Will’s – Andy’s – chuckle and gave a resigned wave of farewell.
    He could still hear their amusement as they crossed the bridge.
    “You could have been a bit more supportive,” Ollie grumbled, “and said it was Florence and the Machine or Bat for Lashes or someone.”
    “But it wasn’t Ol.”
    “Next time I’ll give them a bar from a Miles Davis song, that’ll get them.”
    “And you can really hum freeform jazz can’t you?”
    “Well,” Ollie blustered, “well – ”. He quickly changed the subject, “What do you know about Andy?”
    “Not much. I’ve seen him around though. He’s a drummer or something. Funny how you thought his name was Will.”
    “It was Will,” Ollie insisted. “I know it’s him Nicks. He snogged me rotten at Spider’s New Year’s party a couple ofyears ago – we had a joke about his name, ‘
Will
he, won’t he?
Will
I?
Will
you?’ you know, silly drunken humour.”
    “How many people have you drunkenly snogged?”
    “That’s an unfair, loaded question.”
    “ – at New Year’s parties?”
    Ollie glared at her, “Ok, I give in.”
    “Think about it Ollie. Maybe it was someone else.”
    But Ollie wasn’t listening any longer. His attention had been taken by a brown Mercedes jeep parked outside the blink-and-you’d-miss-it entrance to the mews.
    The front door to Ollie’s house was open. Hum, growling, bounded past the workroom and up the stairs. Ollie and Nicky followed.
    “Soi fort mon ami,” Nicky squeezed his hand.
    As always when he was nervous Ollie began whistling the theme tune from
Bewitched
, the sixties hit tv show turned into noughties flop film.
    Coming up the stairs into the sitting room Ollie found Candida on a stepladder by the shelves next to the fireplace.
    The lower shelves were crammed with books, but the upper one had a selection of prints and sketches that he had picked up over the years from his travels, from markets and auctions.
    It was the upper one that Candida appeared interested in.
    Hum, a dangerous glint in his eye, had made it to the third rung of the ladder that now wobbled precariously.
    “Call him off Oliver.”
    “Hum. No.”
    But Hum was intent on going further.
    “Oliver!”
    Ollie went over to the stepladder, picked up Hum and firmly put him on the floor.
    “On your bed,” Ollie commanded but Hum stayed where he was. “On your bed!” he said more loudly. The dog smiled at Ollie, gave a last snarl at Candida and moved reluctantly to his leopard-print snug under the table.
    Ollie helped Candida down from the stepladder.
    “You have quite a good little collection, of no value of course,” she sniffed disdainfully, “but interesting.”
    “Still working at Sotheby’s Candida – or is the Hermès scarf just for effect?” Nicky was unable to keep the sarcasm out of her voice.
    “Still taking little snaps?” Candida cooed in return before turning back to Ollie. “I found a key in