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turned in the doorway, but she was smiling. ‘Don’t “look” me, Oz. I’d believe anything about you. Our rule is ask no questions, and I’m not going to break it now. Good luck.’ She gave my balls a friendly squeeze and closed the door behind her.
    I went back upstairs to Prim. She had carried her smaller bag up to the raised area, but had left the monster for me. I looked up and saw her feet disappearing up the ladder to Wallace’s sun-room. ‘Hey, this is terrific,’ her voice echoed down. ‘You can see a lot from up here.’
    ‘That’s why Wallace likes it,’ I shouted back. ‘Incidentally, Jan was only kidding about him being up her skirt.’ I grabbed the sullen iguana and shoved him into the cage which was his bedchamber, hoping that I was right. The eaves space in the loft was lined with cupboards, where most of my possessions were stored. I dived into one and pulled out a towel. As Prim climbed down the ladder, I threw it to her. ‘There. The shower’s electric. Instant hot water. You’ll find my dressing gown behind the door. Fancy something to eat?’
    She thought about it for a few seconds. ‘Which takeaway is it at lunchtime? McDonalds?’
    I put on a hurt look. ‘I do cook sometimes. For example, I do an ace tuna sandwich.’
    ‘That’d be great.’ She invaded the vast bag once more and emerged with a bottle of shampoo, and some other stuff. ‘Meantime, I have earned this shower. I’ve come a long way for it. I’m going to enjoy it. Hope your lecky bill can stand it. I may be some time!’
    Leaving her to undress, I jumped down to the kitchen. A quick glance at the green things in the bread basket persuaded me that I should take her at her word about lunch. As soon as I heard the bathroom door close, I slipped out of the flat, sprinted down the stairs, out of the building and along the narrow wynd which led to the High Street.
    Fortunately there hadn’t been a run on Ali’s ace tuna, sweetcorn and mayonnaise rolls. I grabbed a handful, added a couple of yoghurts for luck and a quart of milk to replace the yellow stuff in the fridge, and paid my be-turbanned pal. Ali shot me a questioning look, one that said ‘Surely not at lunchtime?’ but said nothing. I gave him the expected knowing wink and bolted back the way I had come.
    By the time Prim emerged from her shower, I was in my chef’s apron, with the woman’s naked body turned to the inside and chaste blue stripes on show. Lunch was laid out neatly on plates - the paper bag and wrappers out of sight in the wastebin - and the cafetière was full and steaming. I depressed its plunger with a flourish, and offered her a stool at the breakfast bar, facing mine.
    ‘I’m impressed,’ she said. My dressing gown, rarely worn in any event, had never looked better. It clung to her body, doing things for her that Marks & Spencer could use to great effect in their advertising. My towel looked pretty cool too, wound round her head like an outsize version of my pal Ali’s turban. She suited it better than he did.
    ‘Thank you ma’am,’ I said. Score a point for the boy.
    ‘I didn’t think you were that quick on your feet. I forgot my toothbrush, so I had to run back upstairs. Either you were up in the belvedere or the place was empty.’
    ‘Milk,’ I said, assertively. ‘Needed some more.’
    She bit a huge chunk from a tuna roll. ‘Mmm,’ she said, as she chewed. ‘Pity you didn’t get some fresh rolls as well. These are a day or so older than they should be.’
    I tried one for myself. ‘Nonsense,’ I said eventually, relieved to discover that she had been pulling my chain. ‘They were fresh this morning.’
    We demolished our rolls, slurped our yoghurt and drank our coffee with the enthusiasm of the newly reprieved. Prim held her mug in both hands, leaning forward with her elbows on the bar, holding them carefully so that the dressing gown didn’t flop open. I offered her a top-up, but she said, ‘No thanks. I really