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voice. I looked over to see Big Val’s broad visage peering round the door, not a pleasant sight on an empty – if Midge-burdened – stomach. However, it wasn’t unwelcome on that particular morning, and I did my best to be nice.
    ‘Less your twenty per cent,’ I said.
    ‘Naturally,’ she replied without a smile.
    I blew her a kiss anyway – it wouldn’t have been decent in my naked state to make it physical. My hands rested on Midge’s thighs and I asked suspiciously, ‘When are they going to need ’em?’
    ‘Monday,’ she told me.
    ‘Aah, Midge, you’re gonna knock yourself out.’
    ‘It’ll be okay, I’ll work through the weekend. If the campaign goes through, the agency will double-up on the price.’
    ‘Three thousand?’
    ‘Less my twenty per cent,’ put in Big Val.
    ‘Naturally,’ I said.
    The idea of Midge producing three such illustrations worried me: she never skimped or cheated on her work, and she had a particularly fine-detail style. Even with the restrictive time limit I knew she would put everything she had into those paintings.
    ‘Do you realize what it means, Mike?’ Her eyes were wide and shining. ‘We’ll be able to afford the cottage, we’ll be able to meet their price.’
    ‘Not quite.’ I reminded her of the figures involved. ‘We’ll still be a thousand short, even if you do eventually get the full amount for the posters.’ If I imagined that would cast a cloud, I was wrong: my words didn’t seem to have any effect on her at all.
    ‘I just know everything’s going to be all right. I knew the minute I woke up this morning.’
    ‘We really have to get moving, Margaret,’ interrupted Twenty Per Cent. ‘I promised I’d get you to the agency for a briefing as soon after nine as possible. I’m going down to find a cab and I’ll give you five minutes to join me.’
    Within seven minutes, Midge was gone, leaving me with the wet imprint of a kiss on my cheek and a semi-troubled mind. I was both pleased and concerned at the same time. The money just might allow us to compromise on the amount of work to be carried out on Gramarye. Maybe. Anyway, I promised Midge before she left to give Bickleshift a call and propose a revised offer to him. Things turned out the other way round, though.
    I’d shaved and showered and was spooning my way through my Alpen, nose into Rolling Stone , when the phone rang. Bickleshift was on the other end of the line.
    ‘Mr Stringer?’
    ‘Yeah.’ I sipped the coffee I’d carried through into the hall with me and winced when I burnt my lips.
    ‘Bickleshift here.’
    I became instantly alert. ‘Oh, hi there.’
    ‘I said I’d call if there were any new developments concerning Gramarye. You know, I did understand your plight yesterday and I took the liberty of getting in touch with the late Flora Chaldean’s executors after you left.’
    I didn’t say anything about the queue of prospective buyers he’d mentioned. ‘Really? That was kind of you.’
    ‘Yes. You see, I don’t quite know how to put this, but the sale of Gramarye is unlike any other I’ve undertaken.’
    ‘I don’t understand.’
    ‘Well, apart from the purchase price, there are certain other aspects regarding the sale. I’ve been asked by the solicitor in charge of the estate, a Mr Ogborn, of Ogborn, Puckridge and Quenby, to keep him advised of the, er, type of purchaser interested in the cottage. It seems Flora Chaldean was rather fussy as to who should take over if her niece put the place on the market.’
    ‘I see.’ No, I didn’t see, but what else could I say?
    ‘Mr Ogborn wondered if it would be possible for you and your – sorry, Ms Gudgeon, to pop along to his offices in Bunbury some time tomorrow, or even today.’
    ‘Uh, that might be difficult. I don’t think Midge can make it – she’s pretty tied up for the next few days.’ I didn’t like the idea of being vetted, either.
    ‘Ah.’ There was a short silence at the other end. ‘Well, it is