Kate vs Showbiz – Chapter 4

The guillotine blade glinted in the light.

A smirk crossed the man’s face as he pulled the rope.

For a moment, the blade wobbled in its framework. Then it accelerated downwards towards the hapless victim’s neck. With a loud thunk it stopped dead, its work done.

In the crowd, a woman put down her knitting and clapped her bony hands together in appreciation.

The man pulled the rope again to lift the blade. As he did, he raised his hand to receive the adulation, a strained smile upon his face.

*

The Great Magneto wasn’t happy. He stomped around his dressing room. Standing in the doorway, the theatre manager looked on.

            “Bloody pensioners matinees!” he roared, “What’s the point? I mean we get what, a couple of dozen of the old bats in and by the time I get to the crescendo of my act, half of the buggers are fast asleep!”

The manager sighed. He’d heard it all before. The audiences were never big enough. They didn’t appreciate the “talent” properly. They should be grateful that anyone deigned to take their valuable time to appear in such a godforsaken little town.

Magneto seemed to read his mind. The rant continued, “I mean who do these people think they are? I’ve appeared before royalty. ROYALTY! And yet here I am, reduced to bloody provincial theatre. On a Wednesday afternoon! Do they not understand how lucky they are to see an act like mine? Well, do they?”

It wasn’t like listening to the same moans every week from the latest touring act was how the manager wanted to spend his time. A cup of tea would be a good start, or perhaps Heather in the bar would knock him up a sly gin and tonic. That would take the edge off the migraine he was sure he felt creeping up on him.

            “Well, what do you say to that?” enquired the great magician.

            “Godfrey, I’m sorry”, he started.

            “Magneto! Can’t you read? That’s what it says on the poster. You did put the posters up, didn’t you? Maybe that’s why no-one bothered to come in, because you didn’t bother to put up our advertising. Run out of sticky tape did you? Is there a Blu-tack crisis in Leighton Oxley this week?”

            The manager sighed again. “Magneto. Yes, we put up all your posters and very nice they are too, although perhaps you should use a more recent photo.”

            “More recent photo? What are you saying?”

            “Sorry. What I mean is, well, the poster looks a bit, how shall we say, old fashioned. Have you seen the ones for Spark? He’s coming next week”. As the words left his mouth, he realised his mistake. If there was one thing a stroppy, failing act hated more than anything it was to be reminded of a younger, marginally more successful one.

The magician ceased stomping and turned around. He was silhouetted against the lights surrounding the dressing room mirror, several of which weren’t working. “Sparks? Bloody Sparks? That shyster? He walks on wearing some black polo neck from bloody Primark and acts as though he invented magic. Like all those of us who have been slogging our arses off for years never existed. It’s not like his tricks are new, he just wanders around being smug and acting like a rap star. Where’s the showmanship in that?”

A light bulb loudly gave out, interrupting the flow for a second.

“As for old fashioned, is it old fashioned to give the audience a bit of razzmatazz? To give them a treat. They want to see something special, not someone who looks like they work in a bloody mobile phone shop. I don’t know if you’ve noticed love, but this is hardly the West End. We’re a long way outside the M25. Good grief, this is basically a suburb of Birmingham and you know what that means.”

The manager could guess, but decided to let the tantrum run its course.

            “It means, love, that this is a provincial backwater! No-one mentions Leighton Oxley in the same breath as London and New York. The only place they can be found together is in the back of my map book, and even then it’s in small print under a coffee stain!”

The migraine was definitely on it’s way. It was time to play the trump card.  “Look Godfr.. I mean Magneto. I know this isn’t the West End but let’s be honest, if you could get a booking at the Palladium, you’d be there.” Magneto started to speak but stopped as he recognised the truth in what the theatre manager was saying. “I know this isn’t a big theatre but we do what we can. I’m sorry that the audience this afternoon wasn’t massive but we have to put on some shows for the old people. It’s part of our remit from the Council.”

            “The Council? What the hell’s it got to do with them?”

            “They own the building. You don’t think we could survive on these sort of audiences, do you? If we weren’t part of the Parks and Leisure department, this place would have become opulent townhouses for professional people years ago. As it is, we might be going that way soon anyway.”

            “What do you mean?”

            “Let’s just say that it’s hard to argue that we need funding more than meals in wheels or bloody children’s trips to museums or any of the other stuff.”

            “They are closing you down?”

The manager’s face dropped. “Not yet, but I’ve heard plenty of rumours. You don’t need to be Mystic Mandy to predict our future if things don’t change.”

For once Magneto looked perturbed. For all his bluster, any closed theatre was one less venue to perform at and one step closer to an enforced retirement for him. Looking in the corner at a small basket, he saw the face of Floppsy, his rabbit. What would happen to her? They didn’t like pets in his apartment block. It was only because she was out with him most of the day he got away with keeping her.

            “What are you going to do?” he asked.

            “Well, I do have a plan.”

            “It better be bloody good, I think I saw more red velvet in there than a showing of xx”

 “Don’t worry it’s in hand.  I’ve been talking to this group of business consultants and I’m sure they can come up with a plan to sort us out.  In fact, I got rather drunk with their boss at the weekend and he gave me the impression that this was bread and butter for them.” Freddie smiled remembering his and Gareth’s antics at the weekend, they’d had a laugh but he thought Gareth was on his side.  In fact, now was the time to strike when the iron was hot, he’d drop him a note as soon as he got back to the office.

“Sounds interesting.”  Magneto stood there stroking his rabbit, he’d retrieved her from her basket as it soothed him in times of trouble.

Freddie looked at the Magician and saw a low-price Blowfeld smiling back at him.  Well if push came to shove, he thought, he could always get him to kill the councillors in inventive ways, he certainly had the tools.

Kate vs Showbiz – Chapter 3

Kate was confused. The business with the Navy Island had finished two months ago and since then she’d been feeling down. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

The nightly trips to the gym had lost their sparkle, she’d even had the instructor shouting at her during her last body pump class that she wasn’t working hard enough. She’d stopped mid ‘clean and jerk’ and she couldn’t remember why. For a proud gym bunny, that was worrying.

Sat on her sofa with a cat purring on her lap, and another beside her after another post work session, she hopped channels on the TV but nothing caught her attention. It was no good. She needed to get to the bottom of the problem.

There was one benefit to her low mood, her skirts and trousers were getting looser as she’d also lost interest in food. Picking at a chicken sandwich she left it on the floor for Olly to lap up, and instead grabbed a class of wine.

Flicking through her post she came across a post card. “Who sends postcards, these days?” she mused to herself. The picture showed a beautiful Italian setting, and turning it over, she read the back. “Loving another cruise, this time round the Med. Have met some great friends, and seen some great sights, you must join me next time, you might find ‘The One’. Lots of Love Olive.”

Ah, Olive. They’d met on a job that Kate’s company had done a couple of years ago. Called in to close down the Horticultural Investigation Agency, and Olive had to be the only sane person that Kate had met there. Officially, PA to the boss, she was actually the one who kept the boffins’ world turning. They had kept in very loose touch. Well actually, Olive sent Kate cards and emails, and Kate spent all her time promising to return the favour.

Looking at her watch she saw it was not quite 9pm, not too late for a call then. Picking up her mobile she found Olive’s number and dialled.

“Well hello stranger.” The gravelly voice replied.

“Hi there. I wasn’t sure if you would be back from your grand tour.” Kate laughed.

“What you actually mean is you were hoping I’d be away so you could leave me a voicemail and think you had done your bit.”

“Oh Olive, I can’t get anything past you.” Kate squirmed slightly on the sofa.

Olive was in her early 60s, a widower with two grown-up sons. She and Kate clicked because, in her day, Olive had also been a career woman. Unfortunately, back then, the world of work didn’t allow for women to progress when they had children so she’d had to give up her career for more menial jobs to look after her boys. Once they had left home she’d been past getting the career back up and running, but had kept a tight ship at HIA and made sure that, when it came to the crunch, she’d got a decent package and everyone else there had too. Her redundancy and pension had helped to fund a prosecco lifestyle (not quite champagne) and she was now enjoying some of the things she’d not been able to do before.

“So, tell me what’s going on with you?”

“Oh, nothing much.” Kate stroked Olly and sipped her wine. Horatio nuzzled her legs and then sniffed Olly’s bottom.

“No change there then. Come on girl, you need to do more than burn 500 calories in the gym and then drink them in Sauvignon.” Olive laughed lightly down the phone. “I met some lovely single men on my cruise, you really need to book one.”

“But where any of them under 60?” Kate smiled at the picture of her in a designer gown surrounded by over 60’s waltzing round the ballroom of some cruise ship. “I don’t think I’m quite desperate enough to be thinking of sugar daddies yet.”

“But you need to be thinking of someone, my lovely. Your eggs aren’t getting any younger.”

“Olive really! Do you have to be that detailed?” Kate blushed, glad that no one else could hear this conversation.

Olive understood Kate’s need to pursue her career, but had also enjoyed her time as a wife and mum so didn’t want Kate to give up on these things too. In this day and age Olive though she could juggle both, she just couldn’t persuade her friend.

“But it’s true my love. Where’s Dave these days?” Olive had met Dave on the HIA job and had been quite taken with him too. She knew he and Kate had history, and couldn’t understand why Kate didn’t want to rekindle everything she’d felt all those years ago.

“Off in America, looking at work for the business.” Kate tried to come across more dismissive that she felt.

“And seeing his wife and son?”

“I suppose so, but it’s none of my business.”

“What do you mean, it’s none of your business? It only that if he wants to get back together with her, and the general feeling I’ve got from you two is that is a no no.”

“I don’t know Olive, you know my relationship radar doesn’t work. Look what happened with Ross”

Kate’s last try at a relationship had failed miserably. She literally thrown herself at Ross Smith, entrepreneur and business guru who’d help get the firm’s last project over the line. Unfortunately, he was also gay, something that she seemed to be the only person not to notice. In the process she’d pushed Dave away and now he’d left the country and she had no idea what was going on.

“He was just a distraction. You really need to sort out what is going on with Dave. Come on, this has been going on for nearly twenty years now. If he isn’t the one then you need to work it out and move on. Really my love, I don’t want you to be my age, single and lonely.”

“But you’re single…”

“But I’m most definitely not lonely. I’m having the time of my life and I’ve got two boys and three grandchildren to share it with.”

Children. That was another of Kate’s stumbling blocks. Dave already had a son, and the thought of him made her uncomfortable.

“Well, you know how I feel about children.” Kate tailed off.

“Actually, I don’t. You always skirt around the issue.” Olive smirked. She’d come back from her cruise refreshed and was determined not to let her friend get away with this anymore. She had begun to see Kate more like another member of her family, especially as she didn’t have a daughter of her own. And she wasn’t going to let her substitute daughter get away with not being true to herself.

“Well, um.” Kate felt a little put on the spot, she had an answer for everything in the business world but in this particular situation she didn’t really know what the answer was. “Kids, its all sick, poo and no sleep from what I can see from my friends and family. No time to yourself and spending hours trying to get your body back to how it was.”

“That’s just surface stuff. They add another layer to your life, bring joy and smiles, help you learn and grow. “ Olive looked at the photos of her boys and their children on the mantlepiece. She remembered it was hard work, but now, looking at her grandchildren just made her smile.

“I’ll remember that when I see a fraught mother shouting at her child in a shop.” Kate laughed. She really didn’t get the whole kids thing, she was happy with her cats. And the way things were going it would be an immaculate conception anyway.

“Just think about it for me, would you love. Perhaps spend some time with your niece and nephew. I think it will change your mind.” Olive thought she’d done enough for now, but she was worried about Kate cutting herself out of something that she would enjoy. In her minds eye, she could see Kate with a sidekick daughter, in matching outfits, out shopping together.

Finishing the call with a promise to stay in touch more often, Kate swallowed the rest of her wine. Children were a big problem for her, she just couldn’t see past the disruption to her life and change to her body. She’d seen what a C section could do to someone’s six pack.

Ruffling Olly’s fur she remembered again why she’d decided that a cats were as far as she wanted to go when it came to dependents. Love and affection but didn’t impact on your ability to go on holiday. How that would work with her and Dave’s relationship she didn’t know but as she still wasn’t sure what he was thinking, well she didn’t have to address it right now.

She did think about Olive’s comment about her brother. She really didn’t see enough of either of her brother’s and their children, and was well overdue a chat with Jake, who always had a clear head and good approach to life. She was conscious she was moping around without Dave and needed to get out of the funk. Picking up her phone she dropped him a text before she changed her mind. An immediate response filled with exclamation marks came back, with a date for a meet in a weeks’ time. Putting her phone on silent she went to bed feeling happier, with something to focus on rather than her worry about what Dave was up to.

Kate vs Showbiz – Chapter 2

Pulling the shirt out of his wardrobe Gareth smiled.  The style of his tuxedo shirt always made him chuckle. From the front it was a plain white shirt, but the arms and the back were decorated with pictures of cavorting cows in various positions only seen in a bovine version of the karma-sutra. He loved going to events and later on, when the wine had been flowing, taking of his jacket to surprise his fellow guests. It harked back to the shirt he was wearing on the night he met his wife, Veronica, though this one would be about three sizes larger.  He’d grown a bit since his early 20s.

**

Veronica Trumpington-Thomas was best described as “Good Country Stock”. Her passion was for breeding cattle. Belgian Blue’s were her favourites although some had cruelly have suggested that the breeds square set stance and stocky features were not that different from their owner. She hadn’t really wanted to marry but her father had said that it was her duty so the task was set about with the same efficiency that she used when choosing sires for her livestock. The list of requirements was short, good temperament, reasonable features and respectable family lineage.

Sadly, the markets where husbands are acquired weren’t really to Veronica’s taste, she preferred the straw and dung of the cattle version, but there were events where eligible candidates could be found. Some old school friends were persuaded to invite her to the right sort of parties and after a few drinks, the process didn’t seem quite so unpalatable.

The annual young farmer’s ball was coming up so Veronica slipped into her best black and white ball gown, making her look more like a Friesian than would normally be desirable and joined in. Walking into the marquee someone caught her eye, a rather dashing looking young man lurking in the corner, looking a bit sheepish and lost in his tuxedo. 

As the evening wound on Veronica kept seeing this young man wandering around, but none of her friends seemed to know who he was. To honest, she wasn’t really that interested but after the meal and a few gins, she was starting to feel a bit randy.  Having either shagged or frightened off most of the other members of the local group she felt in the need of new blood and set out to find if he might be interested in a demonstration of her cattle impregnation techniques.

Gareth had been invited to the do by an old friend who proceeded to abandon him for the first girl who had flashed her pig tattoo in his direction.  He tried propping up the bar for a bit, and eventually took to circling the room until it started to circle him thanks to the amount of scrumpy he had consumed. More of a G and T person he had resorted to the local brew after his attempt to order something more refined had been ridiculed by the locals. The drink was more potent than he was used and attempts to soak up the alcohol with something solid hadn’t gone well as the cuisine was as rural as the drink.

The countryside all looked the same to Gareth so finding his friend’s house earlier in the day had been due more to luck than judgement or map-reading. Worse, when he did arrive, he discovered that he’d packed a suit but no shirt and since there was no chance of buying something he’d had to borrow one.  Unfortunately, this had been a bit of a comedy purchase and now the marquee was getting hotter and hotter but he really didn’t want to take his jacket off.

Veronica saw Gareth circling the marquee again, by this point he had begun to look a little green.  He stumbled and half fell into a chair on the table next to her.  She noticed him begin to put his head into his hands, and then seemed to be struggling to remove his jacket.

“Bugger this,” she thought, “Everyone is coping off and it’s about time I wrapped my lips round someone.”
She marched over to the next table.  Gareth, by this point, was fighting to keep his head between his knees and try get his jacket off at the same time.  Veronica grabbed the back of his tux and practically ripped it off his shoulders. 

“Oh” she screamed, as the design on the back of Gareth’s shirt was exposed, from the front it looked plain white but the back was something all the more lurid.

Gareth looked up in surprise, unfortunately at the same point the numerous pints all came to a head and he proceeded to vomit them down the front of Veronica’s frock with some force.

“Argh!” Veronica, now covered in pints of the local brew mixed with several partly digested pies, screamed.  “What are you doing!”

Gareth looked up sheepishly and started to mumble a string of apologies.  He hoped the rather large but attractive girl looming over him would not berate him too hard as he could feel a roulade and champagne cocktail that might be making its way up at any moment.

Veronica was about to let rip, who did this boy think he was, this dress had been specially made by her mother.  But as she turned to give Gareth what for she saw a pair of soulful brown eyes were staring at her that bore a startling resemblance to her favourite cow, Winny.  And with that, she was lost.

Many years of working with animals meant that Veronica had been covered by much worse than a bit of posh vomit.  She grabbed Gareth and dragged him off to the toilets to clean herself and him up. After letting him be sick a few more times, it was time to test the staying power of the portaloos.  Stories after the evening always included comments about the particularly loud mooing that seemed to be coming from the direction of the next field, though no one had seen any cattle.

**

20 years on and their marriage was still going strong, though the only children they had had four legs.  Their lack of offspring had disappointed both of them but with no conclusion as to why things weren’t working Veronica had gone back to animal husbandry and they’d settled into a different kind of family routine, their children being in the fields rather than in the house.

He loved his wife very much but she would insist on carting him off to the odd farming ball to make friends and for her to do some networking. He could chat to most people but this lot did get into quite a bit of detail about their farming practices, and he struggled to hold his own.  By halfway through the evening he’d often be found in a corner, pilfered bottle of gin in hand, drinking to his heart’s content as his wife worked the room. 

Two hours later and the Harvest farming ball was turning out the same way.  Gareth was just eyeing up a nice bottle of cider on the next table when someone plonked themselves down next to him.

“Hi, you’re Gareth, Veronica’s other half aren’t you?”

Gareth turned to his new companion.  Though slightly younger and slimmer they were cut from the same cloth.  He even caught a glimpse of colour on the sleeves of his shirt as he turned to face Gareth..

“Freddie Coward.  My wife, Joan, is over there talking to yours.  We have a small farm and she aspires to your level of herd.  To be honest, it bores me senseless, so she suggested I might want to come over and have a chat with you.”

Gareth visibly relaxed.  At least he wasn’t another farming expert.

“Veronica mentioned you run a company that helps other companies get out of trouble.  She said something about a naval island, I think I read about it in the paper.  It’s called KOD isn’t it.”

Gareth glowed slightly, he always liked to know that people knew what he did and the work on Fillern Holm had garnered them some good PR.

“Well, yes that was one of our best projects, working with the MOD don’t you know.  Can’t say too much but we turned things around.”

“Sounds very interesting, have you done any others?”

Half an hour later and Freddie might have been wishing he hadn’t asked that question as Gareth regaled him with stories of KOD’s successes.  He omitted to mention that most of the work wasn’t done by him, no harm in embellishing the truth here and there.

By this time the cider had been consumed and jackets had been removed.  The chaps laughed as they both had a penchant for lurid shirts, though Freddie’s had depictions from Shakespearean plays instead.  There was much blood and gore.

Reclining in his chair Gareth though, I like this lad, he’s on the same wavelength as me.  And he likes silly shirts.

“Pip pip, old boy.  Here’s to finding a shirt design even more frightening for the next ball.”

“You are on.  I’ve seen some great stuff on eBay.”  Freddie chinked his glass with Gareth’s.

“Actually, Gareth, I have to profess I have an ulterior motive here. I need your help.”

“What with, old boy.”  Gareth was finding it hard to focus, the cider being more powerful than his usual tipple.  He leant forward, trying not to fall off the chair.

“Well, I run a theatre.  It’s not a big place and we don’t get the cream of the shows, but I still love it. But we are really struggling, and if I don’t get the ticket sales up by end of March next year, then the local council will sell the place to property developers.”

Now Gareth had a soft spot for the theatre, having trodden the boards himself during his university days. He could remember the smell of the greasepaint and the joy of a receptive crowd.  What harm would there be in giving them a little help, he thought to himself.

“I know it’s not your usual cup of tea, but any advice you could give us to get of this mess would really help. I can’t pay you, but I can give you free tickets to every show we have on.” Freddie had gone from jolly to maudlin.  He really did love his theatre but times were tough and he was struggling to know what to do.  It was Joan who’d suggested that approaching Gareth and pandering to his softer side might mean he got some help.  She also didn’t want to see him not working and under her feet at home.

Gareth stood and patted him on the back. 

“Absolutely, I’m sure I can find time to give you some pearls of wisdom.  Don’t worry about the money, we’ll sort something out. Give me a call next week. Now if you will excuse me I think it’s time to go home, I’m seeing double of everything!”

Waddling back to his wife, half cut, a little niggle appeared in the back of Gareth’s brain.  Kate wouldn’t like this. He brushed it away, it was still his business after all, what harm was it to do something good for the community rather than for the money.

“Alright, Darling?”  Veronica was surprised to see her husband weaving toward her. She was even more surprised when he knocked her flying as he lost his footing.  Sitting together on the floor she took one look at her now comatose husband and thought, home time.

Kate vs Showbiz – Chapter 1

“Chad, you are going to kill him!”, A woman screamed.

The bulky blonde haired man held the other by the throat. Tears ran down the woman’s face as she pulled at the blonde’s shoulders, trying to wrench him off his opponent.

He pulled his fist back, ready to inflict the fatal blow. The other man, dark haired and slightly smaller, was pinned to the floor but managed to find enough wiggle room to move just as the fist swung and it hit floor rather than his face. It helped that his opponent was a little inebriated.

“DAD!” The wail of a small boy could be heard across the room. Standing on the staircase the boy, with tousled hair and crumpled pyjamas, had been watching the scene unfold across the open plan room. Running across the lounge he jumped in the space between the two men.

“Stop please Chad. Please don’t hurt my Dad.”

The sight of a tear-stained face stopped the blonde in his tracks. Falling backwards to the floor he sat with his head in his hands and began to cry.

“Oh Junior, I’m so sorry.”

“That’s OK, Uncle Chad.” The boy hugged his ‘Uncle’ and then walked over to his dad, who was now sitting on the sofa holding his head. “Are you alright, dad?”

Dave lifted his head and looked at his son. His one eye was almost swollen shut and his ribs were killing him where Chad had inflicted more blows. Though well-built he had been no match for the man, an ex-American footballer player now run to seed.

“Can you grab me some ice from the fridge please son.”

Alicia stood weeping by the kitchen door. Dave’s estranged wife was still shocked by the whole experience. A quiet evening with friends had turned in to something a lot more traumatic. She still wasn’t sure how Chad and Dave had gone from exchanging toasts over beer to nearly killing each other.

The two men looked at each other across the lounge, like two caged tigers ready to pounce.

“Dave,” Chad looked over at his English friend, “Be real. He’s doesn’t even look like you. Face facts man, Dave Junior is my son.”

*

Six months earlier

Standing on the Mall in Washington DC, Dave wondered if this felt like coming home. To his left was the Washington Monument, a huge needle like structure that over looked the large reflecting pool, a lake made famous by Forrest Gump trying to cross it to get to his true love. To his right the grassed area stretched up to the Capitol Building, a familiar sight to anyone watching American political films or TV. It was the hub of US politics, and the equivalent to the Houses of Parliament in the UK and had once been his office.

Looking at the clear blue sky he pondered if he was doing the right thing. He’d left the UK in a rush after the closure of the naval job. It was another success for KOD, and they’d gained plaudits in the press for the handling of the whole event. He was looking forward to taking Jnr there when it opened for the public as an amusement park. He’d love him to meet Captain Norris, the slightly spikey officer who’d been his adversary. Seagull poo aside he was pleased he’d managed to save a historic battleship and some memories of Royal Navy history for future generations.

“Daddy!”. A small voice could be heard shouting across the park.

Dave scanned the area and spotted a body moving a speed towards him. The next thing he knew he was almost bowled over by a small boy who wrapped himself around Dave’s legs.

“Hey Dad. I’m so glad you are here.”

Dave picked up the bundle of energy, struggling slightly as his son had grown since he’d last seen him. Nearly eight the boy was well built with his head above Dave’s waist.

“Junior. You’ve got big!”

“I know. Mom says I’m one of the tallest in my class.”

He put the boy down and ruffled his hair, a thatch of blonde curls. He still wondered at genetics. Both he and Alicia had brown hair but his son had the hair of Adonis.

His wife finally appeared by his side.

“Hello Dave.” She leant in for a peck on the cheek.

Things in their relationship had been rocky for a while, with Dave staying in the UK when Alicia had decided she preferred to come back to her home country, the US. For the last year they had been talking and he’d popped back for short trips but with his job it had been hard to get the time off. This time he had a few weeks so they knew this trip was make or break for the two of them, or at least for his son.

“Come on Dad, I want to go and play with the spacecraft.” Jnr pulled his father’s arm, dragging him towards the Air and Space Museum. Home to American’s flight history it was Jnr’s favourite place of all the museums in the centre of Washington. He loved to pretend to be an astronaut.

Letting his son run on Dave and Alicia fell into step.

“So is this trip Business or Pleasure?”

“A bit of both.” Alicia rolled her eyes at his response. “Hey it needs to both, I can’t afford to keep flying over here to you know.”

“Perhaps you should have thought of that before you gave up your US government job.” She bit back.

Dave was about to respond with another barbed comment. This was how most of their conversations went these days. Jousting with remarks about which country they should live in and what was best for their son. He’d had enough of it all, the other reason he was here.

“Look. I’m here to try and clear the air. Taking the opportunity to look for work for KOD over here gives me a chance to spend a few weeks rather than a few days so we can have proper conversation about what’s best for Junior.” Dave stared hard at his wife. She pouted but kept her mouth shut. He noticed that she didn’t say, and for them. He thought she realised, the same way he did, that their relationship was over.

Waiting by the side of the road Dave Jnr was bouncing up and down with excitement.

“Come on you two slow pokes. We’ll miss our slot in the planetarium.” Running behind his parents his pushed them along towards the doors of the Museum. Differences aside Dave and Alicia couldn’t help but let his enthusiasm rub off on them.

“I’ll race you there.” Dave opened the doors and set off across the entrance hall, Jnr in his wake, Alicia laughing at their exuberance.

*

“No, no, no. How many times do I have to tell you, no.” Kate stomped back to her office, slamming the door behind her.

Silence fell across the rest of the office as they followed her tall, thin shape teetering back in her stilettos.

It had been a few weeks since the end of the Fillern Holm job, and the departure of Dave to America. Since then she had been more insufferable than usual. Any mention of him brought out a sharp retort, in fact anything seemed to get her goat. Even Tracey, someone not known for her sympathy for Kate at the best of times, was feeling sorry for her. Kate had got noticeably thinner and her heels seemed to be getting higher each day that Dave was gone.

Of course Kate wouldn’t admit that she was worried about what was going to happen in America. Dave Thomas, the one that got away at University, had breezed back into Kate’s life two years ago in a big job to close down a vegetable research agency. KOD had done to the job but Dave had lost his in the process. So, without Kate being consulted her not so sleeping partner had brought him in to work at KOD, HER COMPANY. She’d not been too happy at the time but had warmed to Dave over his Florence nightingale abilities when she broke her leg. Though she hadn’t told him, again how she felt, and instead had thrown herself at someone else, someone who’d turned out to be gay.

So, the contract had come to an end, and Dave had offered to look for some new work for the company. He had a few contacts stateside, and they’d made more when the Yanks and tried to ‘shipnap’ the battleship that came with the naval island they had been working at. Kate knew the expression ‘never look a gift horse in the mouth’ but it didn’t make her feel any more comfortable that he would be spending time with his estranged wife. But Kate being Kate couldn’t tell him this, so instead was just taking her frustrations out at the gym or on the staff.

Kate’s office door opened again. Everyone in the office took a deep breath.

“Kelvin, get in here now. This bl**dy computer isn’t working, AGAIN.”

Commiserating looks were aimed at the office IT geek Kelvin as he rose reluctantly from his chair and made the way slowly across the office. One member of staff actually made the sign of the cross as a small prayer for him as the door closed behind him.

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