THE HEADMASTER'S FLAME, BRITISH NOVEL BY LS EVANS, 18+ ONLY

‘Well, I’m really not surprised.’ 

The men sat watching Natalia stomping up and down the caravan.

‘The bitch fucking lied. She fucking lied! And I ended up in that hotel room with Tretchy, stretchy, bletchy-cough! How could she?’

‘Come here, come here darling. We’re your family…’ 

It took around ten minutes of Neill’s mouth pressed into her hair, consoling her that she’s safe with him, not her, and this is why she lives with him, not her - and that we’ll take care of you darling, you know that, darling? And more kisses on her face and head, and enough rubs and kneads of limbs to make three bread loaves, till Ed had made her a cup of tea and her head was resting on Neill’s chest, feet up in Ed’s lap as both men tapped their phones.

‘Kreeest-offah…’ 

‘She said she struggled to remember it, let alone spell it,’ said Ed. 

‘And if it’s very long and Russian—’

‘Could be Khristo-foro-vitch.’

‘Got that one too.’ 

Ed looked up. ‘Nat, Billibob from the church who said your dad’s name was long and confusing - where did he see it?’

‘Driving license I think.’

‘Might that be in a drawer or shoebox somewhere?’ Neill frowned.

‘Well I imagine my dad took it with him. He’s not dead.’ A reaction in Ed’s face made her turn her face to Neill’s. ‘What, you think he’s dead, don’t you? You think she’s not saying!’

‘I didn’t say that, Natalia. But we know there’s something fishy with her, don’t we? Never wanting the police called—’

‘That horrible imposter made up a story that she tried to kill him!’ She scrambled onto her feet. ‘Now you’re saying it! How can you say he’s dead!’

‘I’m not, Natalia. You said to me in your own words that he’s as good as dead to you—’ 

‘I was UPSET!’

‘I know, I know. I also said I’d help you find him, didn’t I? And we are. So let’s make a list of these Russian names.’

Ten minutes later they had over twenty candidates of various versions of ‘Khristofor’ and ‘Khristoforovitch’ combined with Anton, Anthony, and Antonov, spread across LinkedIn, Facebook and 192.

‘Right, shower time for me guys.’ Ed peeled himself off the sofa, scratching his balls as he walked off.

‘How many of those might try to attack me,’ Natalia moaned. ‘Make a fucking mockery of me!’

‘Hey, hey,’ Neill pulled her into him and tickled her earlobes. ‘We won’t have a single one do anything of the sort. We’ll scour through all of them and if your dad’s there, we’ll find him.’ 

‘What, you and Eddie sitting there like inspectors with a notepad?’ 

‘Indeed. Private investigators. He’ll take half and I’ll take half. You have two boyfriends, don’t you? Now jump in the shower after Ed. Your armpits smell like a pet shop.’

A loud, lopped melody rasped outside the window as Natalia shot up to look.

‘Rain’s stopped, and the ice cream van’s here! I’m out of cash! Can we get one?’

‘‘Let the sky rain potatoes!’’ Neill stretched and fist-beat the caravan roof. ‘‘Let it thunder to the tune of Greensleeves!’— Not for breakfast, Natalia. Eat your cornflakes before they congeal completely.’

‘But it’s holiday! It’s not over yet, like theirs.’ She watched the family opposite cramming their boot and trying to fit a forgotten kid’s scooter on top. Then she sighed away to the shower as towel-wrapped Ed clanged with grill trays and slices of Warburtons.

‘Use the toaster, Ed,’ called Neill.

‘It’s on the blink, just like the telly. I don’t want to summon the park warden who thinks we’re gay.’

‘Try plugging it in.’ Neill came behind and wriggled the loose wire.

‘Oh. Nice one.’

Neill sipped his coffee and peered out at the leaving family now buying last-minute ice creams.

‘Come to Pikey Prestatyn for weather as grey and miserable as your Honda Civic. God, I could do with being in Thailand right now.’  

‘Ok, mate?’ Ed munched at the table.

‘We had two weeks to get over that hornswoggling maltworm and now we’ve only brought it back.’

‘We made a pretty big discovery for her, mate.’

‘Oh, I know. Closer to bringing the guy with a truncheon to my door, in your words. What did you mean by that anyway? The police, a man with a big cock - or just a stick to whack me with?’

‘Any of them. You don’t want her to find her dad?’

‘Of course I do. I want her to be happy. Happy now, too - but this will take some digestion. She won’t be up for going anywhere today.’

‘I feel for the girl. Her exams are coming up, what, next month?’

‘Indeed.’ Neill scraped the cereal bowl and rinsed his mug. ‘Might be a good time for me to catch up on business calls, did you say the reception has a printer?’ 

He walked over and yanked open the bedroom door. ‘Oh Christ.’ 

‘What?— Is she ok?’ Ed came up behind him, as the two of them took in the sight of Natalia. One knee over the other in the famous red dress, her wet hair was weaved into two long pigtails, as she finished up painting her nails bright scarlet. 

‘It’s Redsleeves!’

‘Time for the speeding course!’ she trilled.

‘Pardon?’

‘My driving lesson you promised, headmaster!’

‘I knew she’d look great in braids like that.’

‘Thank you, Ed—’

‘Yes, yes, we all know she looks great in braids. She’d look great wearing a binbag.’

‘You once said I look five!’

‘I said you look fine. Get your ears tested.’

‘Although those red nails look anything like a five-year old.’

‘Ed, put your tongue back in. Now are you serious about a driving lesson in the wet?’

‘You said you always keep your promises!’

‘Natalia, that was before we trafficked a sheep, beat two men, drove dangerously drunk and elicited an accomplice to have sex with you.’

‘Driving lesson or I’m having no more sex with him.’ She shook and blew her fingertips.

‘Good, I think he’s had about enough! Don’t screw your face, Ed—’

‘Screw mine!’

‘You’re both lunatics. How many laws do you want to break on this trip?’

‘You’ve got me hooked! I’ll let you drive my car, Wednesday Addams!’

Natalia grabbed and finished Ed’s toast crusts from the table.

Shards of sunlight illuminated the raindrops on the blackthorn blossom, falling as slowly and tentatively as Neill’s glance now to Natalia. Sitting in the upraised driver’s seat, she let out a soft belch of bacon over the steering wheel as she ran her fingers down the leather, filling both palms with its thick girth whilst giggling like a pantomime villain.

‘Ok, Natalia, now concentrate, and be grateful for the advent of the automatic. Long ago in the Ancient 1990s when I was learning to drive, you had to put your foot on a thing called a clutch - all the way down to the floor, push the gearstick into first, and bring the clutch up in such a way that the engine doesn’t cut off in the middle of the road. Now, it’s a Go-Kart. Simply put it into D and off you goooohHH MY WORD!—’ 

The car flung forward as three sets of teeth chattered to tyres plunging in and out of rabbit holes.

‘D-do we really have to learn on a f-field?’

‘We can’t be seen, Ed.’

‘Ed’s right. Let’s get this thing on the road!’

‘Natalia, we can’t—’

‘I’ve watched you forever, Neill! Hang on tiiiiiight!—’ She swung the car up onto the smooth tarmac as a car came right behind, flashing its lights and honking as Neill grabbed the wheel. 

‘Steer, steer!—’ 

‘I am, I am!’ 

‘No, stop steering, hold it straight!’ 

‘You said it’s a Go Kart!’ 

‘God, I wish this were a manual. A sure way to keep learners slow!’ Neill pulled the wheel to the side as they let the car other pass. ‘Ok, off we go again.’

‘Where’s the music!’ She stabbed the player till The Doors’ Love Her Madly came on. ‘Oh, your song!’ and she began to impersonate him in a voice as deep as Barry White, Ed chortling all the while in the back whilst Neill muttered grimly.

‘Keep both hands on the wheel for goodness’s sake.’

‘‘Sing a lonely song, of a deep blue dream…’ Boring, bo-RING!’ She stabbed on the radio instead, as Pulp’s Common People burst through. ‘You wanna do whatever COMMON PEOPLE DO!—’ she bounced, now wearing Neill’s sunglasses and mouthing at him, ‘wanna sleep with common people, like ME! …Clap along with the common people!’

‘Karaoke queen she is now. You should have seen her clenched like a Christian’s fist when I first serenaded her down the M1.’

‘Well, she’s surely cheered up, even if my car’s gonna get bashed up,’ Ed’s eyes in the mirror shone with mirth whilst Neill’s forehead grew more red-blotched every second.

‘But not us getting banged up!’ Neill’s voice rose. ‘Heddlu, Heddlu! Police ahead!’ 

‘Turn down this track—’ Ed reached, as Natalia promptly swung to the left.

‘Where are you going!’

‘He said turn down this track!’

‘He meant the song!’

‘Don’t stop, keep driving till the Heddlu have gone. Steady, steady!’

‘This is an off-roader isn’t it! It’s like a fucking a desert safari, better than Gipton!’ She screamed with laughter as dust flew up and Neill now went pale, clinging onto the grab handle. ‘Ooh, what’s that house in the distance? What a small village!’

She screeched to a halt about a hundred yards from a rundown Georgian mansion in a garden swamped with nettles and vines. Shabby curtains filled its six bay windows, whilst the figure of a woman loomed at the middle one at the top.

‘This isn’t a road. This is someone’s fucking driveway! Turn back, turn back!’

‘I can’t, the road’s too narrow.’ She thrust the stick. ‘It’s not moving! What’s N for?’

‘N for Nutter. She can’t be learning a three-point turn here, Rich,’ Ed began - as the car leapt backwards and from the bumper came a THUD. 

‘Oh, bouncing BOLLOCKS!— Sorry boys!’

Neill cried out and jumped out of the door. ‘It’s just a pile of soft debris!’ he called soberly. ‘No damage. Natalia, out!— I’m driving.’

Natalia clung onto the wheel. ‘I don’t want that woman up there seeing me. Let me drive us back out!’ But Neill was already pulling her up by both pigtails - just as a voice rang out.

‘Stick ‘em up! Stick ‘em up! Stick ‘em up or I’ll shoot!’ 

Then they froze upon a menacing laugh that sounded like something from a horror film. 

Natalia hurriedly undid her pigtails and fingered out her hair.

‘He said stick ‘em up, Natalia, not pull ‘em out!’

‘Like that woman up there?’

Ed rolled down his window. ‘What are you doing, fuckers! Get back in!’

‘Stick ‘em up! Stick ‘em up! I’ll shoot!’

Now Ed’s face fell. ‘Has that woman really got a gun?’

‘Not unless those nips of hers are going to rain down pellets.’

‘Stick ‘em up, stick ‘em up!’ the eerie voice repeated. ‘I’m going to shoot on the count of three!…One!—’

‘Just do as she says. I can’t have someone firing a gun even if they’re pranking. Ed! Get out and put your hands up!’

The men lined up, Natalia’s hands shaking as she raised them along with theirs. 

‘Neill… Neill…’

‘I’ve got a funny feeling this isn’t really a—’

‘Stick ‘em up, stick ‘em up!’

‘We are fucking sticking them up.’

‘When is she going to move? She’s freaking me out!’

‘She’s not the one talking like a Dalek, surely.’

‘So who’s talking? I’ve had enough of this.’ Neill marched to the driver’s door. ‘Get in!’

‘Wait!’ Natalia called, when she saw the front door opening. There appeared a man in a tawdry leather jacket, a face wizened like a lemon and a mop of bedraggled hair.

‘Oh, I’m terribly sorry about the din,’ he murmured. ‘Goodness, a lady in red, must be the Royal Mail so prompt this Monday morning! You have my delivery?’

‘Yes, sir—’ Ed’s hands fell. ‘We’re here to inform you that your delivery’s been delayed till afternoon after all. Apologies, we ran out of room in the car.’

‘Oh. Couldn’t you reach me on the telephone? Or did Ferdy get at the wires again. Blast him, but it’s better than him chewing my girls. Ferdy! Where are you!’ 

A flapping shock of colour flew from the front door straight onto the man’s shoulder.

‘Stick em up! Stick em up!’ it cackled.

‘A bloody parrot,’ Neill muttered. ‘In Royal Mail-red.’

‘Oh, I must apologise for my partner in crime. Ferdinand, quiet! He does terrify the couriers! DHL deserve every nip on the hand, but he once had UPS bend over their own bonnet. A great big fat woman. What a sight!’

‘Ferdinand?’ Ed blinked. ‘As in Rio?’

‘A bird in the hand is my third by demand. My third macaw since the first two birds died and haunted me in my dreams till I bought another! Tried training this one to sign for deliveries but it didn’t go quite to plan with all the Westerns he’s watched with me.’

‘You don’t say.’

‘Wowww.’ Natalia was edging up in curiosity, a wide smile breaking out as the magnificent coloured bird rotated its red crest to and fro, its little eye flittering at her.

‘She’s smitten,’ remarked Neill. ‘Just lost her last pet, you see.’

‘Oh, a doggie was it?’

‘Sort of.’

‘I’m not sad about that anymore,’ Natalia pouted as the macaw suddenly screamed: ‘She’s gone where the goblins go! Yo-ho! Let’s open up and sing and ring the bells out! DING-DONG!’  

She jumped in alarm back to Neill’s side.

‘Well,’ Neill clapped Natalia’s shoulder and nodded up at the window. ‘Someone’s turned into stone waiting for you. Sorry to bother you, good day and give your shapely spouse our regards.’

‘My—? …Oh!’ The man cackled, then the parrot joined in, and the three of them joined in, half frowning. ‘You can’t be couriers, surely! Why send three? A chaperone is it, the feeble new age require? And with a young lady like this?—’ He smiled two overlapped front teeth at Natalia. She smiled politely back.

‘She’s our apprentice,’ said Ed. ‘Learning the ropes, you see.’

‘Oh, no, she’s far too young. I can see from the mamelons on her incisors she’s unlikely to be more than 16.’ He peered closer. ‘Smile again, for me, young lady—’

Natalia’s mouth clamped decidedly shut as Neill pulled her back.

‘Excuse me, my man. She’s ninetee—’

‘Usually gone by 19, yes. Two daughters myself, both grown up and gone too! Well, all’s well for work experience I guess, if you don’t let her drive the car.’ He smiled as he reached inside his leather jacket, then drew out a petite silver pistol. 

Natalia’s legs went like jelly as she clutched Neill’s arm. ‘Oh m—’

The man pointed it to his own neck, flipped out a long cigarette, pressed the trigger to light it, and took a puff that made Ferdy hop-flap onto his head.

‘A most fanciful briquette, sir,’ Ed coughed.

‘Dandy, Austria. Circa 1910.’

‘I… was just going to say.’

‘You’re an antiques man?’

‘Yep! That’s what we do.’

Neill exhaled. ‘Well, we’ll be going.’

Clamping the cigarette in his jaw, the man clicked his fingers toward Natalia’s shoulder as the parrot flew down and landed there. Tensing at first, she softened into a smile as he beak-nuzzled her ear and she laughed, glad she’d released a curtain of hair for protection.

‘Come in, come in for a cup of chai, all of you,’ the man clapped like a magician as Ferdy flapped off back to his shoulder. ‘Plenty of antiques to cast your eye over, as well as meet plenty more birds!’

Natalia’s eyes went big at Neill. ‘More… more birds?’

‘Which kind?’ muttered Ed, as they trooped to the door, the mysterious woman still looming overhead.

Cotswood House was rather like the man who now showed them around it - like it had been beautiful a long, long time ago. Upon the seventh thing that his fingers - wrinkled like he’d been in a bath for a year, Natalia thought - had pointed at in earnest, now ‘that old Chesterfield’ which expert Ed had assured ‘would surely fetch a fortune at Sotheby’s,’ she was convinced that his tiny hips and crêpe-thin lips were once attractive like Mick Jagger before his entire skin became scored like a woodwork table.

‘Goodness, this place is a time capsule.’

The sweeping staircase circled up to the skylight, where some fluttery insect staggered through the air and Neill and Ed murmured about it beating the Coach House’s staircase hands-down. ‘Handrail, joinery, all original’ pointed Mick - as Natalia had dubbed the unnamed gentleman, not wanting to ask his name in case he asked theirs back, and they hadn’t pre-discussed what their names were - whilst Neill and Ed nodded in real or feigned enthusiasm. Meanwhile she thought the whole place smelt, and was, disgusting - she’d far rather live in the caravan than here, and greasy-mop Mick had still not made them tea.

He was now leading them down a hallway so dark she wondered if he was going to kill them at the end of it. Light came, behind the shape of a standing figure. Another woman, it seemed, was standing silhouetted against a stained-glass kitchen door.

‘Oh, she came downstairs quick?’

‘Kelsey! Make us tea, lazy bitch!’ Mick growled - as Natalia shrunk closer to Neill, and Kelsey didn’t move - and now they loitered expectantly by a table loaded with piles of yellowing papers, vintage tins and bits of rubbish, a copper kettle was being filled with water as archaic-looking as the kettle itself.

Ed looked back at the woman. ‘She’s not real, is she?’

Mick placed the kettle on the stove and smiled. ‘Come over and meet Kelsey.’

They walked over in astonishment to Kelsey’s sleek and glossy auburn hair, her lips artificially full and red. Her makeup was painted on in perfection, and her breasts were ginormous with tiny nipples barely covered by her lacey bra. But holes and rips in her horrifically parrot-gashed shoulders revealed her fibrous white innards.

‘A rubber doll!’ Ed guffawed.

‘Silicone, my boy, all one-piece silicone.’

‘So who’s in the window upstairs?’ Neill chuckled. ‘Buy one rubber wife, get one free?’

‘That’ll be Jemima. But why have two, when you can have a house party. Come, come!—’ Mick’s eyes flashed them back down the dark corridor, up the grand staircase - Natalia flanked by helpful boyfriend-hands that almost flew her up as they puffed after Mick - now unlocking a beak-pecked door, grinning, ‘I have to keep them hostage for good reason. A jealous old bird Ferdy is, and not even fifty!’

Natalia gasped. ‘Do parrots live till fifty!’

‘Oh, past ninety, in captivity.’

‘But not as long as these will…’ 

The door creaked slowly open like a lazy fart. They took in the sight of heads and heads of glossy hair, too many to count. The room was rammed full of silicone women, all propped up against each other, most naked, with hairless groins and dots for nipples. One sat on the bed edge, legs akimbo, the biggest bosoms of the group.

‘What… what do you do with these?’ Natalia blinked.

There was a chuckle from Ed.

‘I mean, why so many.’

‘Oh, they became my little obsession. So lifelike, so realistic, you see? A work of art!’ Mick exulted as they wandered from doll to doll, in half perturbation and politeness to satisfy their excited host who was like a little boy showing his cousin his hidey hole. 

‘Goodness,’ Neill stepped eye level with a curvaceous blonde with huge green eyes. ‘In a few years’ time with artificial intelligence you’ll have these walking the street.’

‘Oh, abso-luuutely,’ Mick sighed, smoothing down the black hair of ‘Nicola, oh, Nicola you need a good grooming,’ as Natalia thought she’d never joke about that word again. ‘Look, just look at the detail,’ he cupped her face, squidging open the orifice of her red mouth as Neill coughed. 

‘I think I can hear the kettle squealing.’

‘Oh, that’s just the silicone, Nicola’s a new one. …Pity these can’t give us anything for our tea!’ Mick patted Nicola’s breast, and Neill and Ed were stepping out of the room so fast that Neill let out a yell when he hit his hip on the oak doorframe, followed by Natalia’s laughter echoing the staircase all the way down.

Ten minutes later they sat in an airy lounge room, where Natalia was pleased to see Ferdy again, on a perch quietly nuzzling his beak under his wing and giving the occasional squawk. In front of them was a huge painting of a ship at stormy sea.

‘Parrot, gun, now a ship,’ said Ed under his breath. ‘You think he’s a pirate?’

Just then Mick returned to clear a small space on another mess-filled coffee table, and set down four china cups of milkless tea stewing sediment at the top. 

Natalia stared at the tea like the worst thing she had ever seen in her life. Neill and Ed took and sipped theirs as she wondered, if it was poisoned, how she’d single-handedly take on Mick - who was not drinking his either.

‘Now this is a work of art I can stare at without feeling guilty,’ Neill nodded to the painting with enough sentience to assure Natalia he wasn’t poisoned, yet.

‘Ah, Marcus Larson! Swedish painter, 19th century, although it may be a replica! My brother brought it here for safekeeping when his own house flooded, dear chap. I adore the painting for all the spume, makes me feel all at sea!’

‘Spume?’ frowned Ed, trying to fish out his teabag as politely as possible.

‘Spume, the ocean froth! Swash, is the water rushing from a breaking wave! Comber is a long, curling wave! Ha, I must sound like a Thalassophile!’

‘Oh, what age bracket is that?’ said Ed.

‘No, that’s a lover of silicone,’ replied Neill.

‘No, no, that’s my brother,’ laughed Mick.

‘He loves dolls too?’

‘A lover of the sea! He owns three boats.’

‘Boats? Like, blow-up ones?’

‘No, no!’ he laughed. ‘He has a Stardust, huge thing, like a house on water you know. Lucky devil, I always say!’

‘You’re lucky,’ piped up Natalia. ‘Your place is huge! And you have lifesize Barbies!’

‘Not as huge as the Bardon Estate. That my brother owns, you know, Robert Bardon. He’s done rather better in life than I have.’

‘Blimey,’ sipped Ed.

‘So you own a parrot, but your brother’s the pirate?’ chuckled Neill.

‘In fact mustn’t be sitting around too long - need to jack a flat on the Jag. I’m sailing tomorrow out at Beaumaris, around Puffin Island, heaving with rocks, but we’re perfectly safe, we’re with Rob, you know. Perfect chance to have yourself a piece of the bounty! Care to join?’

‘Puffin Island!’ Natalia’s eyes lit up. ‘Will you take Ferdy to meet them?’

‘Oh no, no,’ he laughed. ‘He’ll probably make off with the little treasures!’

‘Near the Menai Strait?’ said Ed. ‘Where they do tourist boat tours?’

‘Oh, tourists are allowed around Puffin Island, but not on it, as we are. Rob owns it.’

‘Your brother owns an island?’ Natalia gasped.

‘He’s the Bardon Estate like I said. Young lady not au fait then, with the ways of the gentry?’

‘Oh, this one’s still gobsmacked at the places we take her for her training,’ Neill exhaled. ‘You should have seen her face of ecstasy having high tea at Portmeirion.’

‘Wonderful. Well, we start 6pm at Timbers, just by the Bulkeley Hotel, down at the jetty. Canapés and tipples, then off for the sail in time for eight o’clock sunset. Be sure to come decked out in duds! Gorgeous out on the island if it’s a clear night. Rob’s slept out there all night a few times - when he’s been up against the corporate life, you know - better than Prozac!’

Natalia’s mouth hung open. Neill brought the rim of her teacup to it and she took the whole lot in one glug.

‘Will you be taking any of your lady friends?’ Ed mused.

‘Har! Only the real kind.’ Mick pulled out a large Nokia and pressed a button down hard. ‘I’m Tobias, by the way…’ 

They waited for him to give him his number, but he motioned them up - still staring into his phone before bringing it to his ear. Ed, Natalia and Neill looked to each other, before being waved back down the corridor without Tobias asking their names in return - and as he was now shouting ‘hello? Yes! Hello? Yes! Where the devil’s my delivery!’ into his phone, no-one dared volunteer a reciprocation, or were too stunned by caffeine soup before they were all climbing back into the car.

Once the doors slammed, Natalia was beside herself. 

‘Neill, oh Neill… it’s like something from an Enid Blyton adventure! Can we go, can we go!’

‘Do we really wanna go on that daft old creep’s yacht?’ frowned Ed, as Neill steered them back onto the road.

‘But is Tobias creepy?’ said Natalia. ‘He just likes dolls!’

‘Likes them too much!’ scoffed Ed. ‘Did you see that pot of Vaseline on the windowsill?’

‘Well, I used to like dolls too!’

‘Not that much.’

She shrugged. ‘Sometimes I would rub Ken and Barbie’s groins against each other.’

‘You were five and curious. He’s in his sixties and spurious.’

‘Well it’s nothing to do with his posh brother and his three boats! And his ISLAND! Oh my god! Imagine if we could sleep on Puffin Island!’

‘Only twenty minutes ago you were wincing like Miss Doris on the candyjar,’ chuckled Neill. ‘That reminds me, Ed - look up what melons, mammalians, whatever he said - that he saw in her mouth. The ludicrousness that he was so sure she’s 16 within seconds of meeting her, puts you to shame!’

‘Let’s see. Mamelons…’ Ed read, ‘are the curved ridges on newly erupted teeth that disappear by late teens or early twenties through natural wear-down by eating.’

‘Surely they’re worn down enough on cock by now. But we can make sure. Let’s get back to our Super Deluxe and remind ourselves what a real woman looks like.’

‘Oh, and man too,’ murmured Natalia. ‘Man, please! I really need a shag.’

‘The only thing throbbing down there is my hip still. Lucky you have two boyfriends!’

Ed was eating a banana, and Neill lounged on the sofa after Natalia had run to the shop for Ibuprofen - then run back to get Ed because she didn’t have proof of being 16 to buy them - and now she slumped down on the floor between his knees, her eyes closing to his stroke of her hair as he talked to one teacher after another.

‘Pribbling, beef-witted flapdragons,’ he muttered as he finished. ‘Mongering the fear we’ll face a legal battle to keep the CTouch boards after discovering from Governor Campbellend that the Ofsted’s being revoked. Rather hoped to delay that bombshell, but perhaps it’s better smoothed out… like this bombshell, for gosh, your hair has grown in that short time since I was a popular Head, hasn’t it?’

‘Even longer with the time you’ve been talking,’ she grumbled. ‘So are we going on the boat tomorrow?’

‘Well I was thinking it would save us a pretty penny from the costs of boat hire.’

‘Always after a freebie these days,’ chuckled Ed. ‘Not the Rich I know!’

‘Because I’m no longer rich. I have been Giptonised! Pulped, to a common person… cos I love her madly!’ He winked down at Natalia as she bit his knee.

‘That Tobias, if it’s really his name, lives in his own world,’ Ed scoffed. ‘Wasn’t interested to know a thing about us.’

‘Just a regular old bumfuzzled flibbertigibbet. I wouldn’t mind having a glimpse into the toffs he knows, what a contrast it will be from Marine Caravan Park!’

‘He’s gone all headmaster again. Flipperty what!’ laughed Natalia.

‘Flibbertigibbet. A frivolous and highly talkative person.’ 

‘Better have a shave first, mate.’

‘Yes! Aren’t you two having a beard-growing competition!’

‘To compete with yours, darling.’

‘Her North or South?’ said Ed.

‘I can’t see to compare. Why are your clothes still on, anyway?’

‘Well I wanted to wait till you were finished talking to those flibberty bumgibberts! We’ve had so many phone call shags. And the curtains are wide open!’

‘Just like yours should be,’ Neill groped her bottom as she stood to rattle the rail, then clicked his fingers as the room fell dim. ‘Put your hair back into braids. But make them high, as high as the woman in the caravan opposite.’

‘Why!’ she laughed, standing and posing into the microwave door reflection to see how her hair would look scooped to the top, before disappearing into the bedroom for a hairband. When she appeared again, hair top-tied in ‘one ponytail, all you get!’ the men’s chit-chat about Tobias’s own ‘godawful chip-grease barnet’ stopped upon their stare.

‘Now that’s a doll,’ said Ed.

‘Stand there. Dress off,’ Neill pointed.

She obliged.

‘Now knickers.’

‘Not yet…’ She slunk back down between his ankles, whilst Ed plucked an apple from the table, and went back to musing that old Bumgibbert was more interested in the names of his dolls than asking theirs.

‘Perfect opportunity to invent new ones for the party,’ said Neill, as Natalia looked up in earnest. 

‘Can I invent our names for it!’ 

‘Once you have some headmaster medicine, yes.’ Neill grabbed her ponytail and held it tight whilst he wrestled with the other hand to open his fly.

‘Didn’t we do enough posh pretence in Llandudno?’ Ed went on munching, as Natalia’s heart raced at a purple-headed plop through her lips.

‘Perfect rehearsal. And pure proof Natalia’s our lucky charm. We go to Llandudno wanting to find out if Carroll was a nonce, what does she do? Leads us straight into Wetherspoons where a past-it professor explains the truth that he probably wasn’t, he just had normal Victorian taste for photographing local tykes in the nuddy…’

‘Mmmghh—’ she coughed.

‘Now I offer to take her on a boat trip with zero pence to spare, and she drives us right to the front door of a man who can take us for free. Zilch! Nada!’ 

He now had Natalia’s ponytail stuffed down his belt, scalped by her hair follicles.

‘And he might even throw in a silicone freebie for you, Ed, to take home as a souvenir of Little Red.’ Neill caught her wrists. ‘Cuff these, Ed.’ 

‘Mate, I have zilch-nada idea where the cuffs even are.’ 

‘Put the red dress to use then. It’s there, on the floor.’

Sucking on Neill’s growing cloven apple whilst Ed munched his smaller, her arms were now pulled back and wrapped in lycra, satisfactorily sieged now by two men who were no longer old men, but young and virile, not like Tobias and his soft velvety woman-wrists, she oozed now to think - men with strong bones, lying within healthy buoyant flesh that held and bounced her till she gargled on helmet-oozing bubble-spit. 

‘How much did you want to go boating, baby?’ - as she nodded him deeper, just as he nods to Ed to pull down her knickers. ‘Condom or no condom, babe?’ Ed whispers. - ‘Er… I gont-mimed.’ - ‘Put one on, Ed.’ Now Ed can be heard scuffling around till she, in place like a belt-hooked army knife, garbles that ‘it’s ok, it’s ok, I just want it.’ - ‘Just a bit then,’ Sergeant permits, as Ed fiddles to insert and drive a full erection, smooshing her bottom so far forward in the process to imprint Neill’s fly zip on her nostrils. 

‘Aren’t you concerned that he knows she’s 16?’ Ed pulled out and pumped.

‘I’m rather encouraged by it. It’s not like he doesn’t have a seedy secret. Easy, easy Ed—’

‘You don’t spend time inside for owning a houseful of rubber dolls…’

‘No, you spend time inside for this.’ 

‘So let’s spend time inside this.’

All three of them now, grunting at the statement thus implied, that Ed is cock-driven to mutual depravity enough to ignore the seagull knock, the shout of the boy from the next caravan, or the returning jingle of Greensleeves. Neill leans back to open the window - for air, the other two assume - till some muttering comes, and the jangling of coins - and Ed slows, and Natalia tries in vain to raise her head.

‘Take this tenner, but make sure you come back!’ he calls to someone. ‘And as for you Ed—’

‘Come on her back?’

‘No, keep going, steadily - but don’t come, don’t come—’

‘Mate it’s pretty hard not to, I’m gonna have to pull…’ 

‘Be a man. What are you, eleven?’ - And just as Natalia thinks her neck will ache for a week, struggling to come off just to refresh her mouth with a lick and swallow, something else is coming - right through the window. ‘Cheers lad. Keep the change.’ Duckie all unhooked and sitting up, now appearing in her place was a double-coned Whippy ice cream with chocolate flakes, sprinkles, and, mushrooming amongst them - Headmaster Winner sauce.

‘Mate. Mate—’

‘Your turn. Make her day, and yours.’ 

Handing Ed the cone for his deposit, it takes a few seconds for his disbelief to wane and regain the moment, with some hesitation, urged by some sort of macho showboating, for the ice cream now double-shot loaded, to be handed to Natalia.

‘Now she can enjoy us as slow as she likes!’

‘It’s easy for guys,’ Natalia lazed licking her fingers, whilst Neill sat frowning at his phone and Ed was splayed giblets-up on the sofa. ‘You can shoot your load anywhere. What about girls? Sometimes I wish I had a cock.’

‘Is this the same girl who fed her menses to almost the entire staff of our high school?’

‘Don’t tell Ed that.’

‘She did what?’

‘Well, didn’t you ejaculate into Mrs Tracey’s lunch?’

‘Oh yes! Ed, Ed! My Geography teacher put me on detention and I filled her Chicken Caesar Sandwich with the contents of Neill’s johnny!’

Ed’s belly shook in laughter. ‘You mean he actually used one?’

‘The one and only time.’

‘Even when I was pissed the other night I managed to get a johnny on straight,’ Ed chuckled and sat up, ‘all for her to yank it straight off saying something about showing me the Great Canyon.’

‘Grand Canyon.’

‘You said great.’

‘I was pissed,’ she laughed. ‘Blame that on you two’s influence.’

Ed made a mighty stretch-groan up to the sink, as Neill remarked he needs to go to the gym - and Natalia giggles that he just did! - and as he poured the tap, his gasp of ‘I needed that,’ leaves Natalia frowning, just as Neill snatches the glass of water, gulps the whole lot and gave a huge ‘AHH! I needed that!’

Natalia had sprung up and slammed the bedroom door. The men didn’t seem to notice anything till twenty minutes later came a call.

‘Natalia! Sperm bank! Where are yooou!’

Silence. 

‘Must be napping. I’m off for a swim,’ came Ed’s voice. ‘You joining me?’

‘Se-ex!’ Neill rapped the wall. ‘Fancy a swim? No danger of gwyniads in this water, just Scouse smegma!’

Silence, till Ed left, and eventually the bedroom door opened a chink, and Neill saw Natalia laying with her arms folded.

‘Heyy? What’s up?’

‘Nothing.’

‘I can see something’s up. Is it about your dad? Listen, we’ll—’

‘No it’s not. It’s what he said.’

‘Who said?’

‘Ed said.’

‘What did he say? And when? …Natalia!’

‘He said I needed that.’

‘You needed what?’

‘He did.’

Neill sat on the bed and sighed. ‘I’m confused.’

‘After he shagged me, he said I needed that! He needed a shag! To shag me!’ 

‘Oh?’

‘He might as well go shag that rough blonde flirting with him in the bar! If that’s what he thinks of me! Something he needs to shag! Hmph!’

He squeezed her foot. ‘Didn’t you say yourself earlier that you needed a shag?’

‘For a girl it’s different. You’re on his side!’

‘Natalia, I am not on his side—’

‘I hate the way he calls me babe. And always scratches his balls. And chews so loud on apples. And stabs his cock to the side of my cunt like he needs to go back to Specsavers!’

His face creased into laughter. ‘But I’ve called you baby!’

‘Baby is nice. Baby is a prized, gorgeous darling. Babe is what a bloke calls a female when all he can remember of her are her thick makeup and plasticky tits.’

‘Like a rubber doll?’ he chortled. ‘He’s called you doll, too.’

‘No, that’s ok.’

Now he looked more confused. ‘Goodness Natalia, did you not want to shag Ed anymore? With all my genitals stuffed in your mouth earlier I confess I couldn’t hear the consent very well—’

‘Shut up. That was fine. But then he wasn’t even hard enough. Kept fiddling and tossing himself.’

‘Natalia, men are not all rock-ready like me… and you know my cock’s always had a thing for you—’

‘I want you to shag him.’

‘Very funny. I think I’d—’

‘I’m serious! Shag the fucker and see how he likes it. Just make sure you wear a condom.’

‘Natalia. I’m about as far from homosexual as you are from being soul sisters with Marcia Adams.’

‘Well he called me Wednesday Addams earlier, so I’m not far off!’

‘Sure, I’ll rape Lurch when he gets back from the pool. Now look here—’

‘Give it time. You can wangle anything, remember?’ She sat up and slithered her arms around him. ‘You have him wrapped around your little finger. I mean you’ve convinced him to have sex with a schoolgirl. You can do anything! Wouldn’t you like to ride him like a donkey? You can imagine him being whoever you want, remember, in our own sleazy scenario?’ 

He shook his head. ‘You are for sure, one dirty little girl.’

‘Well, would you do it for me?’

He sighed. ‘Being force-licked and wanked, we can get away with. Being buggered is a different matter.’

‘Hmph! What about when you put that Pilot pen up my bottom? Funsize banana, cuff-keys, buttplug?’

‘But you liked it.’

‘He’d like it.’

He sighed. ‘For a man it’s different. Hoo-mph! Come on, let’s get lunch.’

They’d had jacket potatoes in the site café, where Ed had spotted them on his way from the pool, and Neill remarked on the time he took in there and whether he’d got lucky with the rotund female lifeguard, whilst Natalia rolled her eyes at Ed buying a cappuccino for the rough blonde he’d danced with the other night.

‘Well, almost 5 o’clock. Are we having a quiet one on our last night here and saving our energy for tomorrow?’

‘Let’s stop by the shop, I need some floss. And you need aftersun, Rich, as you’re looking rather Royal Mail yourself and I don’t mean Prince Charming.’

‘My red head will turn into a tan as glorious as Natalia’s. Fetch me a razor too. Haven’t you been wearing sun cream, Natalia? You might be a whippersnapper but you don’t want to age any quicker.’

‘Maybe I do. I’ll catch up to you.’ 

They came back out, Neill frowning at his receipt. ‘Astronomical prices!’

‘You’re truly a Yorkshire man,’ said Ed.

‘While you were in there, I spoke to mum to check she’s ok after the call last night,’ began Natalia. ‘She—’

‘Goodness Natalia. Were you ok talking to her?’

‘Yeah yeah, I—’

‘You didn’t mention the census man!’ blurted Ed.

‘No,’ she said indignantly. ‘I’m not stupid!’ She turned and lowered her voice at Neill who’d caught her hand affectionately in his. ‘I hate her guts but I didn’t say anything. I wanted to make sure she’s not suspicious of the call. She didn’t say hello, then said something about there being more spam callers these days. Apparently Uncle Andy got scammed out of a tenner by some fake competition, blah blah. I just said I’m having a good holiday and will be back in time for school.’

‘Good, good. Well done darling.’

‘That must have been tough when even I could throttle her. Well done babe.’

Neill paused. ‘Ee.’

‘What?’

‘Don’t call her babe. Bab-y.’

Ed frowned. ‘Babe E?’

‘Oh, it doesn’t matter.’ Neill peered through the glass door of the reception. ‘Right, they’re still open. I’m going to pop in to see if Cilla Black there can print me out some papers.’

‘I’ll come with you,’ Natalia clung to him.

‘No, no. You walk back to the caravan with Ed and make friends like a good girl.’

‘No—!’

‘Go. I won’t be long.’ 

Natalia crossed her arms and huffed away across the path of a Renault Megane crawling through the barrier.

‘Ed! She’s going to get run over by that OAP! Take her hand immediately!’ 

She tried, unsuccessfully, to shake Ed’s grip on her wrist and grumbled all the way back to the caravan.

‘Tea, Nat? I bought some pastries. What is it with you then. Time of the month?’

‘No, it’s fucking not.’

‘Alright, alright.’

‘God, I mean Neill’s a cocky arse, but you’re just a twat,’ she growled, but he didn’t seem to hear, as the kettle crackle-popped, and then his phone was blaring, and then he was blaring ‘yehh-lo!’ like Mr Neary to some work call, whilst she disappeared into the twin bedroom.

Urgh, Ed cock. Wonky pointy Ed cock, can fuck right off. 

She flipped up her phone to look at another stupid cock. A photo on her Facebook feed of Stuart, topless and sort of lanky with a few glimmers of muscle, doing the ice bucket challenge. She didn’t know whether to cringe or swoon. Alana had commented some pun about hot and cold. She’s a cock too. 

Then she clicked eagerly on a new WhatsApp message from her, sent 45 minutes ago:

Her nerves had been shot enough today.

The front door squealed and Neill’s tone rose. ‘New family’s arrived in the caravan opposite. Must be about fifteen of them, all browner than Natalia. I don’t know how they’ll fit into a six-berther!’

‘Are you holding the list of the 30 people who might be Nat’s dad?’ Ed replied mid-yawn.

‘Oh! No. These are my work print-outs from the most charming receptionist who was supposed to charge me 50p a sheet till I gave her a tirade about how lovely her awful blouse is, and she let me off entirely!’

‘Smoothly done,’ said Ed, still at the end of his yawn. Their talking devolved into mutters as Natalia put her ear to the wall, then she pulled on one of Neill’s t-shirts and bounded out to the kettle. 

‘Tea, for our board meeting! A break from beer, guys!’

‘I did offer her one,’ Ed said.

‘Go on then, we’ll all have one.’ Neill sat back, then frowned at a splash of water hitting the window behind him. ‘Blast that rain again!’

‘Nope, it’s that family opposite,’ Ed shifted the curtain to a call of apology from across the way. ‘Looks like the kid’s got a water gun…’

‘Don’t look so stoney-faced at them, you two. I’m sure it’s just water in theirs.’

‘If they’re as rude as the Pakistanis in Gipton,’ muttered Natalia, ‘then I’ll give them a piece of my mind.’

‘Nah, they look like Filipinos,’ said Ed.

‘Never heard of them.’ She went back to stir and serve the teas. ‘Ooh, how exciting this is Neill! Just like in your office, nice and cosy and relaxed! Light a fag, then throw me a Sharpie so I can go through and tick off the ugly ones!’

‘We only have a biro,’ he chuckled, watching her bicycling her legs in excitement. ‘And I thought you didn’t like cigarettes anymore?’

‘Shut up. I was just being silly last night. Oh, this tea tastes so good after what Tobias served us!’

‘Mmm, it does taste marvellous,’ he sipped with a huge ahhh that made Natalia even giddier to sit and and peruse the papers. Amongst those vying for Deputy were several frumpy middle-agers with unmemorable names and faces. She was surprised to see Mrs Coleman and Miss Doris vying for Deputy, and Mrs Williams going for Head itself. 

‘Why would Joan put those in?’ she frowned.

‘Oh, they were added to the batch of course. I collated them into one email.’

She fiddled and unfolded a lumpy sheet at the back. ‘Who’s this squirrelled away? …Wow, she’s gorgeous!’

‘Well, we can’t have her as Deputy…’ 

She would have caught Neill’s wink to Ed, if she weren’t gazing down at the radiant face of a woman around thirty, with clear skin and pale blue eyes, smiling a rosey top gum with square little teeth, a honey-blonde ponytail down one shoulder.

‘Why not? I’d far rather look at… Miranda Hammett!— every day, than any of the seven other frumps. Besides, she looks kind.’

‘Let’s have Me-gander at Hamwallet!’ Ed reached over.

‘Fuck off Ed, she’s mine! You stick to your rough blonde circling you like a hawk in the canteen. Miranda is class. Stunning.’

Neill tapped his ash and laughed. ‘And why would you want a woman you think is stunning working under me?’

‘Because I’ve become as sexist and objectifying as you, and fallen thoroughly prey to the belief you would never cheat on me, obviously.’

‘Good girl.’

‘And also because I heard you two muttering through the thin walls just like I did this morning, in the man-grunt you think is whispering! …‘It has to be her who discovers her! Salvages her from seeming wreckage!’ Well, you like her, and I like her.’

‘Thought so, Rich! These youngsters have hearing like a hawk.’

‘Well, clever clogs, it’s win-win,’ Neill chuckled.

‘Savage, you pervs. I can only imagine what Miranda’s in for.’

‘Me too.’

‘Those two words are not the best prognosis for her new workplace,’ Ed laughed, just as a twang of guitar and a flurry of voices could be heard outside. ‘What’s that? What are those Filipinos doing now?’ 

They all shuffled to the window.

‘Gadzooks, they’re playing religious warblers…’ 

‘Oh, I know this one! Bind Us Together, Lord!’

‘Don’t give me ideas. Come, come away from the window, you pair of clack-dishes,’ Neill drew the curtain. ‘Right, next we choose the new Head. We might need a few seconds more for this one.’

‘We don’t really care much at all who takes over the school, though do we?’ said Natalia. ‘After all, you’ll be gone. We’ll be gone.’

‘But darling, I’ll be handing over to the new Head for twelve weeks. The person must be worth looking at, listening to, and indeed worthy of taking my mantel. I may even summon you to make them tea at some point, and I’d rather you were sufficiently motivated not to use a mug with fag ash at the bottom.’

‘Well, get her to pick a fit bloke, of course,’ said Ed. ‘Balance it out.’

Neill peered over at the sheets. ‘Who’s that you’ve marked out in so much biro they look like a demonic blot?’

‘Williams, obviously. Guys, there’s no attractive bloke on here! They’re all constipated wash-ups on the wrong side of fifty. I would have expected Joan to do better than this!’

‘What about him?’ peered Neill. ‘Looks sort of George Clooney?’

‘More like Martin Clunes,’ said Ed - as Natalia giggled hysterically - then her and Ed, after derogatorily christening each face page by page, proceeded to impersonate what each their farts would sound like, till Neill rapped the table. 

‘Natalia, you’re fired. We’ll have to hand it to Ed.’

‘Yay! I’m Heeead!’

Natalia snatched the sheets back. ‘No way, he doesn’t get to pick. I want a new batch!’

‘We could head-hunt, so to speak. Offer higher pay to some posh cunt running another school.’

‘Yes, yes! Let’s look!’ She jumped in earnest at her phone being held high by Neill.

‘No. Ed, give me your laptop. Natalia, you must sit on Ed’s laptop if you want me to let you head-hunt.’ He opened up Ed’s computer. 

Natalia sighed and slipped demurely onto Ed’s kneecaps. His hands came tentatively to her waist as she playfully slapped them. ‘Stop it, twat.’

‘Where do we start? I guess you have a LinkedIn, Rich?’

‘He didn’t even know what LinkedIn was!’

Neill rapped the table. ‘I don’t fucking need a LinkedIn. We bung the words headteacher and secondary school into Google Images and take it from there.’

‘Incredibly superficial you two, aren’t you?’

‘Edward Saunders! When the most gorgeous headmaster and the most gorgeous schoolgirl in the world have the brazen logic to get down and dirty, we get down and dirty with the world. We don’t do things by the book.’

‘Look at the size of that one’s forehead,’ Natalia peered. ‘Jesus! Bet that one’s more a sex offender than you.’

‘Harold Mason. More like Harold Shipman.’

‘That one needs Invisalign…’

‘On his eyes.’

‘…He looks like Tobias!’

‘That’s a woman.’ 

They were in hysterics by this point, till Natalia suddenly declared: ‘Put an ad for the job online! Or I’ll pick Miss Doris!’

‘It’ll cost fifty pounds to put it on TES,’ groaned Neill, getting up and rubbing his hip.

‘I have £75 from the gold cuffs in my account. Put it on and set the notifications to forward to me.’

‘Oh really? You think you’re a hotshot now?’ Neill was rustling more painkillers from the table, just as Ed was sliding Natalia back and opening her knees with his:

‘Will those work quick enough to get you thrusting again, Casanova? Or do you reckon she wants hot head from Hot Head, if you can give it as good as I can…?’

‘Anyone can do it better than you, shitface.’ Now Neill is on his knees, sliding his face up her thighs and Ed is pulling her further back and it feels good, the exact reverse of earlier position, relief to her still aching neck. Ed’s fingers were drawing up her skirt and Neill’s were pulling down her knicker hem. How useful two boyfriends can be.

‘Don’t let Ed see my Hamwallet,’ she giggled, flapping the A4 papers with Miranda’s face down over her crotch.

‘Ahh! You want to get naughty with Miranda? I’ll let Ed see her, after you come right on her.’ Neill tore off the sheet and balanced it over her pubis, as she laughed and tried to wriggle it away, whilst pinioned down by Ed and all she could do was laugh again to feel Neill’s tongue now right on her vagina through the laser printout. 

‘Oh, Miranda! Better than Mirinda, so fucking refreshing!…’ He licks, and keeps licking till he tears through soggy paper, and the breaking on through to the other side makes her moan out loud, as Ed reels her further back like a humbly quiet dentist chair, and the paper with a big soggy hole in the middle is passed up to her face and stuffed into her mouth. She feels the gentle throb of a paper cut somewhere on her cheek now as well as her inner thigh, and now munching on paper, Neill is munching on her, from clit to perineum, whilst the guitar played outside. 

Slobbering through paper fibres that fall apart as does Miranda completely, the sound of the hymns drown her out, and she feels glorious - was it the guitar pluck, timed with the push of headmaster’s tastebuds around her clit? - as she comes euphorically, pushing back onto two fingers that she needs to be his cock now, oh, the cock-that-has-a-thing-for-her. She springs up onto Neill so he keels back onto the carpet, straddling him like a grown woman: unpeel the trousers from his banged hip and ride the man who is always rock-ready, ignoring Ed for the moment that is theirs, and he knows she knows it. She pulls off her top, the sleeve gets stuck and Ed helps her whilst her passage is finding some sort of gentle chafing rhythm, trying to pound him but feeling like she has the weight of a fly on him. Nevertheless, his mouth hangs in astonishment at her driving of him as much as the Audi this morning, till the last chord twangs, the Filipinos cheer and so does Ed.

Holiday-Mode Headmaster roamed the corridors of Thornwood, all denim and unshaven jaw, rat-a-tat-tatting like a seagull on classroom doors. The boys in the class had cocks for noses, whilst Mrs Coleman with red-varnished teeth pointed at the new interactive boards with a buttplug. Could they fundraise legal costs for the boards if they needed it? Make a million wonky cookies for a school fair? 

She wanted to ask him, but he was already snoring - and even Ed too, after squeezing a triangle of whiteheads on his shoulder - and a blackhead on Neill’s, that they’d found ‘quite relaxing, like acupuncture,’ and now she wondered that the first thing to wake would be their glories. Would Ed be gallant enough to check she was friends first?

But when she woke, they were still sound asleep. There seemed no danger of being summoned like a wank rag as she slipped out to make tea, shower and dress before they’d opened their eyes and their first words came out like teenage boys late for school. 

‘Shit! What time’s check out!’

Breakfast was en route at an American-style diner, where they repeatedly joked that another waffle would ruin their waistline, and because Alana hadn’t replied to say what the urgent thing was about, Natalia decided the most urgent thing was to chime in with the upcoming sartorial occasion.

‘You know what Toby said. To come in our finest duds. Duds are threads. High roller. Decent clothes!’ Ed had explained. ‘You’re fine, you can wear your bubblegum silks again, and your nails are hot to go. But did you bring a suit, Rich?’

‘Like hell I brought a suit to go glamping. We either hire or go cheap.’

‘I know just the place. Debonairs on a shoestring, here we come!’

And now Natalia stared as they walked across the retail park with tags still hanging from the seams. 

‘I’ll never said a bad word against Matalan again.’

Neill sported a powder-blue flannel suit, set against a silk tie detailed with birds of paradise. Ed was in an olive green ensemble, all crisp and suave to hide a morning breakfast of sins, both of them now clean shaven, their skin shining anew in the sun now poking from the clouds.

‘Well! Do I look like a trust-fund-baby about to get royally sloshed?’

‘Boys, please don’t get drunk tonight. You need to have your wits about you!’ But Neill and Ed were now hopping in two-step in the car park as a mother with a pram stared. 

‘You need to make sure I don’t get kidnapped, YES?’

‘GUYS!’

‘Darling we’d have any perpetrator strung up by one testicle before you can say Kelsey want a cracker. We flushed Jobsworth’s head down the loo for you in Portmeirion, remember!’

‘You weren’t pissed in Portmeirion. But you were even too pissed in the Bala pub to stop me taking a photo.’

‘I won’t get that pissed,’ he chuckled as he unlocked the car.

‘But last night you only had one sip of Ed’s gin and forgot you saw your mum once more since Christmas.’

He stopped. ‘Pardon?’

‘Ed asked you when you last saw your mum, and you said Christmas. But you forgot you saw her in February, when you necked the milkshake and got the ticket speeding home for six, remember?’

He frowned as they all climbed in.

‘That day you sped off to London at like, 11!I’m amazed you didn’t get a ticket on the way there too!’

‘11am?’ Ed exclaimed. ‘From Yorkshire to London and back in a day?’

‘Pish! It’s teenagers that get up at 11! I was gone before she unglued one eye. Listen, we’ll take good care of you tonight, yes? Take the deodorant as a pepper spray and the police truncheon in your bag just in case. With Tobias and his posh brother, it will be Five Go To Treasure Island! So what will our names be?’

It was about fifty metres wide, piercing four masts into the sky, with beefy cast-iron cannons all down its side. Thick rope hung from bow to stern, as it bobbed very gently upon the water, its hatches down; great big black buoys protecting its side. They stopped in astonishment. 

‘Oh my God. Guys… I mean, that can’t be…?’

Docked in the bay of Beaumaris, where they’d parked in an unassuming side street, the flag fluttered of El Galeón Andalucía, ‘a full-scale, seaworthy 17th-century Spanish galleon made of pine and iroko wood’ - they stopped in earshot of a man with tiny Windsor spectacles to hear. ‘I hope the trippers have left it in good order for the real deal!’ - laughed a woman passing him a cocktail with red-nailed fingers loaded with rings.

‘That can’t be the fucking boat,’ said Ed. ‘He said it was a houseboat on water, not the fucking Armada.’

‘Well can you see any other boat round here that a bunch of half-cut lovies are boarding? Come on!’

Natalia was still staring. ‘Do we, er… check in somewhere?’

‘It’s not Marine Park, Natalia. There’s Bumgibbert!— Hey! Tobias!’

Tobias appeared in a black suit and bowtie, hair combed back, purely by its own grease it seemed.

‘Oh, you made it! How simply grand. Grab a drink, grab a drink—’ 

‘We didn’t expect… such an antique, you know!’ Ed said.

‘Oh, not at all. Just a replica. Huge diesel engine in there, the thing’s filled with steel! Rob’s Stardust is being painted so he grabbed the Gally before it goes back to Tampa! We’re sailing in… forty, if I can find Rob! He’ll be late to his own funeral. —Flissy! What a vision you are! A Van Herpen?—’

He’d already vanished, as they shrugged. ‘I’ll go get the drinks. Coca Float, Natalia?’

‘Shut up. And I’m Ophelia Cummings.’

‘You can’t be serious that we’re Eel and Ned.’

‘Eel, perfect for slippery sea creature!’ she giggled. ‘And Ned is a Non Educated Delinquent!’

‘Not what I got,’ Neill tapped his phone. ‘Here it says Ned is a diminutive of Edgar or Edwin, meaning wealthy guardian or protector!’

‘Well I can’t go round introducing myself as Eel. I’ll have to adjust it to Eli’ - Ed grabbed the phone. ‘‘Eli derives from the Hebrew word Eliyahu, meaning my God is Yahweh, signifying ascension and uplift.’ Beat that, Ned!’

‘Be-NED-ict. There we go. Eli, Benedict and Ophelia.’

‘Smells like bullshit from a mile off.’

‘Copy their walk. Look - must be one of them there coming down the steps with the little neckscarf. You can smell the caviar breath from here.’

‘So we’re antiques dealers?’

‘Tricky when we know naff all about antiques. But it’s not like we’ll be tested on it. If unsure just reply with ‘har, har! Now that is a question, my good man!’’

Natalia’s excitement banged in her ribs. After being reassured by Neill that they didn’t have to talk to anyone, now watching the drifts of well-dressed people embarking the steel walkway made her wonder whether she’d bump into someone like Mark the coach driver again except this time, upon a boat, she’d really be a Prisoner. 

‘Surely not here,’ Neill patted her knuckles. ‘This is practically aristocracy. Look at that gold watch on that man. An Omega, at least twenty bags, I know, I once shagged a director of Pragnell. —Holy yoni, look at the surgery on her! Looks like she’s wearing a permanent nose clip.’

‘I bet we see Professor Mendalls here.’

‘Oh, too posh for him.’

‘Too posh for Mendalls!’ she gasped, keeping her hand firmly hooked into Neill’s cool jacket sleeve as they passed a loud American in boots and a black Stetson - ‘god what a cliché,’ Neill muttered, as now they passed a violin player, ‘goodness, I hope we’re not sailing on the Titanic.’ Dusted cheekbones and pearl earrings and gleaming leather man belts; the scent of cologne and alcohol, tobacco and seaweed blended on the gentle sea breeze that grew cooler every ten minutes, as shawls appeared on the ladies and even a pair of lace gloves on Nose-Clip.

‘Where do you think rich Rob is?’

‘Probably the twat laughing like a maniac up on the stern. White shirt, patting everyone’s shoulder. Usually the one dressed most underwhelmingly. Where the hell’s Ed with those drinks?’

Neill tickled her neck and slipped away, leaving Natalia clinging ten red nails to her shoulder bag strap. She caught sight again of Tobias and threw a smile, but realised he was smiling at someone else, and ended up catching the attention of Nose-Clip.

‘Hello my dear, are you a niece of Robbie’s?’

‘Er, no? I’m a friend of er, Tobias.’ 

‘Who, dear?’

‘Him, there—’

‘Oh Toto, Toto.’ Her blue blinkless ping-pong balls surveyed her. ‘Do you go to school locally or back in Blighty?’

‘Oh - er, in Harrogate. Yorkshire. Not school, though! I mean college.’

‘Are you sure of anything?’ She gave a shrill laugh.

‘Har har! Now that is a question, idiot,’ Natalia muttered, sliding way through elbows and air-guffs of laughter till she stopped at a circle of lofty characters talking in a tone so unlike anything she’d even seen on TV.

‘And when I told little Esmie we can’t go on safari if she’s got the flu, she said she’d telephone the tigers to come for tea in the villa! Most, most insistent at Nanna Jill! I told her the girl has the will of steel of her fahh-ther!—’

The group’s mouths opened in laughter like an orchestra of overgrown chicks. The cowboy was loudly asking for ‘more Hendrick’s, more Hendrick’s!’ to a collagen-lipped blonde, before flashing a surprised look down Natalia.

Natalia quickly looked away, and caught sight of another blonde woman she thought she recognised, but with all the absent plastic surgery than the other. Perched on a ship cannon in a black silk dress, her hair was done up in a bun, and her face had a loppy look, with an ashtray husk of a laugh as she took a canapé that made Nose-Clip fidget uneasily. Maybe she should call back Alana now. She’d hear all the rich idiots talking her vacuous aspirations of visas, apartments and Martinis.

‘Hey how are ya?’

She stared up from her phone in surprise. It was the cowboy.

‘Oh, I’m very good thank you, how are you?’

He chuckled. ‘So British. I’m Nathaniel. You must be the youngest at this party, huh? You a niece of Rob’s?’ 

‘Oh, no. I just look young. My name’s Ophelia. I’m a writer.’ His big sweaty hand reciprocated hers with a clap. ‘I’m here researching for a novel.’

‘Ophelia!’ he whistled. ‘Dang, isn’t that like, a famous painting, the gal laying in the water, done by like Van Dyke or something?’

‘She’s a Shakespeare character, and in a painting by John Miller.’ It was something like Miller, but she could say she painted it herself and this half-cut Yank would swallow it.

‘Oh, awesome, you know your stuff. So whaddya writing, kiddo? Like, a romance? Psychological thriller?’ 

‘Sort of a mix…’

‘Like a good G&T, huh! Can I fix ya a drink?’

‘Oh, I have one coming.’

‘Canapés, canapés then! Ladies first!’ The waiter approached as Natalia took and nibbled on a small fishy thing. ‘Gal of mine works at Schuster,’ he said as he munched on three. ‘Big, biiiig publishing place, y’know. Excuse me—’ Collagen-Lips had tapped Nathaniel on the shoulder and he turned away, just as Neill was coming up.

‘Seen anyone we know yet?’ he chuckled, passing her a drink.

‘Are these mocktails?’

‘No, Natalia.’

‘I said to be careful drinking.’

‘I am. Listen, I’ve told you we’re thoroughly men and if we don’t down at least two jars we will literally evaporate into—’

‘Great Brute-ish hangovers?’

‘That.’ He nodded to a camp man talking loudly with a Lucky Saint in one hand and his pet Chihuahua in the other. ‘Besides, you can’t bird-watch without scotch.’

‘Neill, but look over there,’ she nodded at the loppy blonde. ‘Is that the rough blonde that Ed always does that stupid butt wiggle to?’

‘Oh my word. It is indeed the flax-wench from the Marine hole.’

‘Wow, she knows these people?’

‘Natalia, the difference between her social strata and these, are the difference between living conditions on Mercury and Pluto. Ed invited her, the stupid bastard.’

‘Oh. Did you find him?’

‘I just delivered him a drink that I should have tossed in his face.’ He looked up to the helm where Ed was chatting with another man. As Natalia turned away, Neill marched up-deck and took Ed’s arm.

‘Hey, I was having a good schmooze with a fellow man of my trade!’

‘Natalia is not going to be happy you’ve brought Poundstretcher. You poundstretch ‘er, and there’s no more getting inside Waitrose!’

‘More like Claire’s Accessories. Besides, look how well she scrubs up!’

‘Scrub being the operative word! Natalia doesn’t want that venereal vermin anywhere near her precious petrimetrium. She wants your holiday romance devotion, you ape!’

‘Relax, mate! …Her precious what?’

‘Get rid of her. We can’t have repercussions that we brought a flea-ridden mutt into Crufts, this will kill our social standing.’

‘What am I supposed to do? They’re pulling the anchor in five!’

The boat was almost deafening with chatter now, with the second round of canapés circulating, and Natalia, feeling the first wave of Mojito settle in her bloodstream, had resumed conversation with Cowboy Nathaniel - and Collagen-Lips, introduced as Henny.

‘Nice to meet you, Annie,’ Natalia put out her hand.

‘Henny, Henny,’ said Nathaniel. ‘As in Henrietta.’

‘Oh, Henrietta! I had a— oh, well…’

‘Had a?’

‘Friend… called that.’

‘Awesome,’ Henny smiled into her cocktail. 

‘Did she die?’ chuckled Nathaniel.

‘No, no!— A character, in my book… called that.’

‘Ophelia’s a writer, Henny! Ophelia, like the painting!’

‘John Everett Millais,’ sighed Henny. ‘Worth 50 mill.’

‘Henny deals art,’ said Nathaniel. ‘World-class gal by 21. Another young talent right here, I just know it! In fact…’ He rummaged in his pocket for a card. ‘Take this. Tell them you spoke to Nathaniel. If you’re any good, they’ll scoop y’up.’

Natalia took the card with thanks. ‘Oh! Yes, I’ve loved literature all my life. Funny, sailing to an island tonight, brings me back to Enid Blyton adventures, do you know them? She was English, wrote lots of mysteries! I didn’t like so much how she made them all about the boys’ - she nodded at Henny - ‘like it was a handicap to be a girl, you know? ‘Oh, what it was to be a boy,’ she would write! ‘I’m a boy, so I can’t cry like a girl!’ She would have the girls sewing, cooking, crying and—’

A scream and a huge splash came behind them as fifty heads turned.

‘Dang, we have man overboard!’

‘Can he swim?’

‘…She!’

‘Fetch a life ring!’

‘All’s good, all’s good, she’s pulled herself up.’ It was no surprise to Natalia to see it was the flax-wench from the campsite, climbing bedraggled up the decking back to the bar - just as an announcement came that the boat was leaving.

‘My gawd, that’s not someone you know is it!’

‘Just someone who’s had too many jars,’ Natalia sighed, as shouts and heaves came, the anchors were pulled, the great sound of an engine started beneath them, and a flurry of excitement as the boat began to wobble and the Chihuahua began to yelp. ‘Ship ahoy, just in time for sunset!’ Nathaniel cheered, as Natalia held onto a thick coiled rope, looking around for Neill - then spotting him up at the Captain’s quarters, talking to a man at least six foot tall in a bowtie and face tomato-red in inebriation.

‘Puffins are monogamous, you see Benedict! They pair for life, and devote themselves to their one egg. One puffling, like the Chinese! The parents take care of it 24/7. You see, it’s quite a statement. —Oh! Here comes your little puffling!’

Neill caught sight of Natalia, scooping her under his arm as she leaned into him, the boat creak-moaning away from the dock. A deafening horn blasted as the huge vessel scored its line through the shimmering water, the orange sun sitting on the horizon line filling the path with a golden glow. How a sunset selfie now with Neill would rock Facebook! No-one else was taking any, to her mild surprise. Probably all too old. 

The wind blew and the mainland became tiny, as she suddenly felt distinctly unadventurous.

‘Neill, I don’t know if I get seasick. I’ve never even been on a boat…’

‘Relax, this one will hardly move,’ he chuckled. ‘It’s the little ones that throw your stomach everywhere. Here comes Ed - but you can’t judge by him! He always walks like he’s on a boat!’

‘Is Little ok?’ By this point Natalia was almost wrapped completely inside Neill’s jacket, having forgotten her own from the car.

‘Yes, yes - just a bit cold. Go fetch a blanket from the lower deck so she can warm up before she does something inexplicably lewd to reward us.’

‘I’ll have to wash first,’ Ed hicked.

‘Guys, I’m not doing anything on this boat - it’s heaving! And I might just too!’

Clowns of the sea, she heard they’re called - and we’re not talking about you two, she kneed Eel and Ned. She looked out for their gaudily coloured bills, and when she saw two ‘billing’ - clacking beaks together - she squealed away her sea fears as the grassy cliff face of Puffin Island came closer with a chorus of funny ‘arrrrs.’

‘Oh, hundreds of them, like grunting pirates! Oh, look at their funny diamond eyes! Oh, they waddle like Mrs Williams!’

‘I only wish she was eaten by a greater black-backed gull.’

The sun had almost set completely, the last lines of red in the sky as she thought she caught sight of a baby puffin.

‘They’ll all be fast asleep in their burrows by now I should think. Look there - at mum and dad in a flap just before bedtime. About right.’

‘It’s funny, because it’s just like Maisie in the Henry James book. Taking it in turns to look after the one child!’

‘I bet puffins wish they knew what divorce was.’

‘But even if they did, puffins would still tag team. I just know it!’

The boat came to a halt by a sandy cove as the walkway was hoisted and the party began to stream down. Neill was muttering with Ed then came alongside Natalia.

‘I’ve got an idea. Let’s go round to the other side, away from everyone and see if we can catch sight of a baby puffin.’

‘But you said they’ll be in bed.’

‘Well, exactly. We’ll peep into the burrows.’

The island must have been no more than seventy acres. The chatter of the crowds faded, as the men took her arm to help her over the mounds of sand dunes, admiring the view from the cliff face then down again into a smaller, but prettier cove where they could no longer hear the party at all.

‘Beautiful isn’t it?’ Ed threw off his jacket. ‘Gosh it’s balmy tonight. After that chlorine-fest yesterday, I could do with a swim in that.’

‘Sit, sit—’ Neill motioned Natalia down onto a rock, as he began to crouch down in the sand.

‘Ned, what the heck are you doing?’

‘Natalia. You are the Jane to this Rochester. Jane to the Tarzan. Jane to this… fuck, Ed, I’m too pissed to think of another Jane…’

‘Paul McCartney and Jane Asher,’ said Ed.

‘Fucking Beatles,’ Neill muttered. ‘Who’s Jane Asher?’

‘Engaged in 67, broke up in 68.’

‘Eddie, shut up! …Natalia, look out there! My bounty is as boundless as the sea, my love as deep; the more I give to thee, the more I have, for both are infinite! …See up there, on the cliffs! —well, on the other side, asleep, but you saw them earlier. Puffins are monogamous! They pair for life, and devote themselves to their one egg. Is it any surprise that I ask you this question here, by the hundreds of roosting birds who pair for life? Well, I’ve been married twice before - but forget that part…’

Natalia was filling with heat to the tips of her shoulders.

‘Alright Benedick-head,’ Ed stood looking to sea, hands in pockets. ‘Get on with it.’

Neill opened his palm to a twinkling diamond ring, and her belly suddenly feels like candyfloss. Her first thought was where’s the box. Her second thought was she wished Ed could take a picture of this for Alana. Her third thought is oh, FUCK! Neill’s face in the last of the sunset looks like a heavenly apparition. 

‘Natalia. Come grow old with me. The best is yet to b—’

‘Neill, where did you get this from!’ she blurted. ‘How did you afford it!’

Ed sighed and began singing:

‘Natalia, will you marry m—’

‘Oh my god you are serious! Oh my god, yes, yes! Obviously, of course! I mean, yes!’ 

She threw herself onto him and he tumbled back onto the sand.

‘Argh! Watch my hip! Shit! Oh, shit! I’ve dropped the ring!’

‘Ohh—’

‘Christ where is it?’

‘Oh, Neill! I’m so sorry—’

‘Don’t kick the sand, anyone! Turn on your phone torch!’ 

‘…It’s there, it’s there. Don’t move.’ Ed bent down into the dark sand and retrieved it.

‘Ohh, thank you Ed!’

‘Put it on her then Ed.’

She squeals with laughter as Ed slips it on her red-nailed hand that she felt was so perfect for this moment, and Neill mutters thank god that it fits. ‘A little bit tight, but it fits.’ Now she jumps back on him and they fall over laughing in the sand showering each other in love-yous, till Neill finally wrenches his own jacket and tie off.

‘Phew, I’m all hot and bothered myself now,’ Ed peeled off his trousers.

‘Skinny dipping, private island cove edition,’ nodded Neill. ‘Game, Mrs Neill?’

‘Oh my!’

In a moment they are splashing and hollering in the water, and she was waving her glinting ring finger at the waning crescent moon. 

‘Shame the moon is so dark, I can barely see it!’

‘Oh, take me to the dark side of the moon, baby…’ 

‘Dark Side of the Moon, Ed’s favourite drink!’

‘Dark Side of the Moose, shitfaces,’ Ed watched them entwined like two noodles. ‘Well I guess you two are gonna shag, whilst I stand here like the Shrek donkey?’

‘Ooh! You’re harder than this rock!’ - ‘Front ways or back ways, fiancée? Because once you’re my wife you won’t get to choose.’ - ‘No, I’m going to pound you like a Chinese masseuse every day!’ In a moment they are splash-clapping water like two billing puffins, Natalia ooh-ouching her bottom on a rock edge and laughing: ‘Aw, poor Eel looks so lonely!’

‘Ed, she’s getting goosepimpled. She needs your hot botty. Come over here!’ 

As soon as their six shoulders made contact, they were a party of flesh-splashing celebration. In less than a minute Neill is ploughing into Natalia with her back against Ed, before Natalia finds herself turning into Ed, inviting two stabs of doggie underwater edition from Neill before he pulled her back to showcase her moonlit dripping torso to Ed. ‘What do you reckon to my hot new wife, Ed?’ - ‘I don’t know, from here’ - till Natalia wraps her legs around him. ‘How about now?’ - shuffling closer - ‘or now?’ And now Ed is thumbing a wet semi into Natalia barricaded up against Neill keeping her warm, or sheltered, or unseen. 

‘Are you gonna be our best man, Ed!’ she clung onto his neck to fight the current of the water. ‘Double bedding, double wedding!’

‘Well after my bird fell off the side of the boat…’

‘Sorry, Ed!’ Neill coughed behind.

A slight stall from Ed as he groaned. ‘Fucker. I knew it.’

‘But all’s well that end’s well, yes? Toss out the burger for pure veal tenders. You don’t get better than my girlfriend.’

‘Fiancée!’ she laughed.

‘I don’t mind. I already had a burger.’ 

‘What do you mean Ed?’

‘God, Rich, your fiancée feels good…’

‘Ed. Ed! What are you talking about burger?’

‘Stacey - at least I think that was her name. Could’ve been Tracey…’

‘Are you kidding?’ Neill wrenched back Natalia.

‘Nil desperandum, I used a johnny. The machines aren’t broken in those posh toilets, even she was surprised at how vigilant I was!’

‘You fucking fucked Poundstretcher?!’ Neill’s voice echoed the cove.

‘Well I would say poundstretched but the second syllable would be exaggerating. She must have had so many kids she must live in a shoe.’

‘Oh, oh!’ slurred Natalia, still in a quasi-headlock by Neill’s arm, ‘there was an old woman who lived in a shoe…’’

She finished with Ed:

Neill glared as they giggled like loons. 

‘She’s drunk!’

‘Mate, she’s drunk on happiness…’

‘You got me drunk Neill!’

‘Ed, you’re gonna fucking get it.’ 

Neill flung himself onto Ed and there was a momentary splashing tumult as they submerged, before heaving up together - Ed in a headlock - then thrown forward, finding his face to Natalia’s over the smooth rock.

‘Neill, Neill! What are you gonna—?’

‘I’m going to return the favour and get his ring.’

‘Ohhh, my god…’

‘Rich, what? Hey!—’ Ed’s shout is half muffled by Natalia licking his face, just as the ship horn blasts from across the island, quivering through the cove and drowning out his humongous yell.

‘What the FUCK are you doing, you mince!’

‘—Oh! It fits! A little bit tight but it fits…’ Natalia is scooping Ed into her like sea anemone into coral, whilst Ed’s face distorts with the insertion of something else.

‘I don’t beliee… I don’t… I, FUUUCK—’

‘No, I fuck. Now shut the fuck up, and fuck her whilst I fuck you.’

‘You fucking—’

‘Squeal like a pig, Ed. Come on, Babe!’

‘Oh, my! Come on, Ed… be gayyyme! We love you, Ed!’

Somehow it was Natalia’s voice cajoling - or arms pulling, or lips pecking at his, or cunt drawing him in like a pulsing tidal current - that made Neill’s buggering at all feasible - for Ed’s bulldog-face could be pleasure or anger for all she could see in the darkness now, pressed into her capitally by Neill’s force, that stuck-wedged Ed inside her as much as Neill was stuck-wedged inside him.

‘You fucking… you fucking… uhhhh—’

Shivers of adrenalin and cold breeze glue them deeper together whilst Ed’s breaths of groaning agony, disbelief and horniness all brought her back to the Creme Egg. Neill is commanding some sort of Cock Conga and Ed is at his mercy, and perhaps Ed just doesn’t want to retreat violently and hurt Natalia in the process, but for whatever reason Ed stays put, and every fuck is a double-boyfriend, Ed-cuckolded fuck.

She wasn’t sure if the huge groan at the end was Ed coming or Ed dying in indignity. But they’ve all fallen apart and she’s using a hand adorned in a diamond ring to fish seaweed from her pubic hair, trying to wee from a groin contracted with cold, possibly injected with her best-man-to-be’s warm milkshake. Did she take her pill that morning? Yes, with her milkshake in the diner. Oh, what a night. Oh, for that blanket now.

Silence as they got dressed again like in a dream. Silence as they scrambled back the way they’d come, suddenly wondering, just how silent everything was. 

Too silent.

‘Shit.’

The cove was empty.

‘Did the Titanic sink? With everyone on it?’

‘No, it’s over there!’

‘Where?’

‘The speck back on the mainland!’

‘We’re… alone, on this island?’

‘Tobias wouldn’t leave us!’

‘Wouldn’t he? A pissed eccentric who met us only yesterday and we go hiding in the cove from? Nat you need to learn what a flake is. And not the 99 kind!’

‘Alright! Just because I’m not a jaded oldie like you! Is anyone else here? The cowboy and Henny?’

They went round shouting till they were hoarse. Then they went on shouting to the mainland till Neill was as stricken as Ed. 

‘Ring him, ring him!’

‘We don’t have his number, dickwad. Do you have anyone else’s number from the party?’

‘What about your blonde bint?’

‘I’m not calling her for help!’

‘Wait, I have a card from the cowboy,’ Natalia pulled it out.

‘Emily Rubens, Associate Publisher at Schuster with a New York office number,’ Neill read. ‘Most useful! No signal on my phone anyway.’

Ed and Natalia checked their phones to find the same.

‘Shall we send up flares?’ 

‘Have you got any fucking flares?’ 

‘Shout again? Wave your phone torch? Can we swim across?’

‘No way!’ shivered Natalia. ‘I’ll never make it!’

‘Guess we’re sleeping on the island like you wanted?’

‘No,’ she cried. ‘No way, no way, no way! I don’t even have my coat!’

Neill caught and squeezed her whilst Ed growled and kicked the sand. 

‘Here I am on the desert island, no longer a butt virgin! On fucking Poofing Island! Epstein eat your knob off!’

‘Calm down, Pinocchio. You’re lucky anyone’s gone for you.’

‘What, after you scared off my first date and pushed my second into the sea?’

‘Technically I didn’t push her. I simply spilled a drink on the deck exactly where her cheap stilettos were.’

‘What if the poor bird couldn’t swim?!’

‘She surely screamed like a gull!’

Ed yelled and swung his fist at him at Natalia screeched. ‘Stop, you idiot! You’re not gonna be best man if you’re being worst TWAT!’

‘She’s right, Ed. Our priority is to stay warm and stay sane. What would the kids in your Enid Blyton adventures do now, darling?’

‘Open a tin of sardines and ginger beer.’

‘Oh, any more tips from the Brownies?’ scorned Ed. ‘Or can cub scout Rich rub us two sticks for a fire?’

‘No need when I have a lighter. Come on.’

She thought she caught sight of a puffin shuffling at its burrow. She imagined it looked surprised to see three human guests, laying by a small fire. A girl wrapped in two men’s jackets, huddled between them both in their pants, still hot and panting from having tried in vain for twenty minutes to get attention by waving two burning sticks. Until their arms ached and Neill’s hip twinged again and they’d swore themselves into flat-out exhaustion.

But her pussy was throbbing from two men’s desire, her spine grazed from adventure, and she was betrothed to her headmaster. Life was not bad after all - till the sound came of Ed letting rip. Wet and squelchy.

‘Which one of you is that?’ Neill mused.

‘I don’t even know if he came.’

‘Oh, he came. Didn’t you, Ed?’

‘Shut the fuck up.’

‘Did he, Natalia?’

‘Hard to tell what’s seawater.’

Ed cleared his throat soberly. ‘All fair to the lady, and her wondrously valiant, buggering husband-to-be, but I don’t know that I won’t bash your fucking brains in back on mainland, Rich.’

‘I confess, Ed, that it wasn’t my cock, it was the truncheon.’

‘What are you talking about? I didn’t see any truncheon.’

‘Not when it’s up your jacksy from behind, in the dark, underwater. Natalia had it in her bag for safety. But she didn’t have condoms, and she told me to use a condom—’

Ed scoffed. ‘I don’t believe you. Nat?’

‘Well, I don’t know, I couldn’t see either. And since when do you listen to me asking you to use a condom Neill!’

‘And when did you have chance to go hunting in Nat’s bag?’

‘Already had the truncheon stuffed down my pants. I reckoned if I couldn’t get it up in that freezing water with my aching hip then Natalia wouldn’t know any different. She didn’t, on the last few thrusts when hypothermia set in. And why do you think I called you over to shag her, Ed?’

‘Because you’ve been inviting me to do it all holiday?’

‘Didn’t you think it fishy that a devout heterosexual kept it hard all the way through!’

‘Christ, I wouldn’t want to smell it.’

‘The scent would be poof. I mean proof!’ laughed Natalia.

‘God you two are romantic. So where’s the fucking truncheon?’

‘Sadly, it dropped in the water.’

‘Smell his cock then!’

‘Well, that got washed along with it. Natalia’s first bugger took place at bathtime, too - you two little arseholes should count yourselves lucky.’

On this remark Ed sighed all gravelly, as Natalia mused. ‘Speaking of arse, it would be amazing with Hetty here. She could shit anywhere she likes.’

The sky was as blue as the jacket drawn up to her chin. At least she’d brought a brush in her bag, was her first thought, as she sat up to tackle her bird’s nest hair, blinking over at her husband-to-be, who stood bare-chested looking out to sea as if presenting Assembly to a vast invisible league of mermaids.

‘No man is an island, entire of itself! Every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main!’

‘Ok Crusoe, so it’s daylight,’ Ed rubbed his head. ‘Now what?’

‘Well, how apt you mention Defoe’s finest soliloquist,’ Neill turned and smiled. ‘At first, Robinson’s island was the island of despair! Then he looked back upon his desolation as the most pleasant place in the world, where no beasts may harm him, and all the happiness his heart could wish for!’

‘Bet he didn’t get buggered in a rockpool.’

‘I’m sooo hungry,’ Natalia groaned. ‘My stomach is urrrring like the puffins.’

‘I’m afraid all you have to eat is cock. What do you think that ruckus was last night, Ed?’

‘What ruckus?’ she frowned.

‘There were sirens and flashing lights on the mainland. Couldn’t help thinking it was probably best we’re here.’

‘Let’s restart the fire.’ 

‘To cook what? Salty tea? Samphire and puffin eggs?’

‘Samphire. There’s a thought.’

‘7am,’ Ed squinted at his phone. ‘Tourist boat should be coming by soon, but I can’t check the web.’

Neill went off wandering, whilst Natalia decided the best bet was to conserve her energy and lay admiring her five-flared fingers to see how many times she could make the diamond glint. Meanwhile, Ed tossed stone after stone into the sea, till a pile of ‘sea cabbage, fresher than the M&S aisle!’ was plonked down next to her, along with another pile of small spiky green plants. 

‘Shrubby sea blite!’ Neill announced. ‘Thank goodness I remember this from the Margate hippie’s foraging course back at RUT!’ 

‘Well, that’s all the happiness my heart could wish for,’ Ed growled. ‘Shrubby fucking sea blite? Christ I wish I’d eaten more of those snotty canapés, but we’ll be lucky to fucking starve to death, because we’re gonna dehydrate to a prune first!’

‘Ed, stop it,’ Neill licked a finger and wiped the mascara under Natalia’s eyes. ‘You’re scaring her.’

‘Oh, everything’s about her! The pair of you, both obsteperous perverts! Licky headmaster, his licky schoolgirl and his buggering stick!’

‘I’ll have you know the word is obstreperous. And the reason I buggered you is because of what you said to her yesterday.’

‘What?’

‘You said I needed that. When you were by the sink.’

‘I needed what?’

Natalia’s eyes ping-ponged between them.

‘You said, quote unquote, ‘I needed that’ after caravan coitus with my fiancée. You depersonalised her into the status of an object and didn’t notice when she stormed off most discombobulated.’

Ed stared. ‘You said it too!’

‘I said it about the glass of ice water.’

‘Well. So did I!’

‘No, you didn’t,’ piped up Natalia. ‘You said it before you drank the water.’

‘So why’s it not right? YOU said in the car how much you needed a shag!’

‘She’s a girl,’ said Neill. ‘She’s allowed.’

‘Oh, you make the rules!’ Ed’s voice cracked. ‘It’s all about playing by your game! Your MIND fucking games!—’ He grabbed Neill’s neck, till he was kneed back in the crotch and fell over howling, whilst Natalia - still wearing both their jackets, danced between them, screaming at Ed as he grabbed Neill in a headlock.

‘Ed, Ed, stop! I just found this in my pocket! Here, here, boy—’ She popped a squashed, half-eaten canapé into his mouth. His face stopped and twitched, just as there came a tinkling sound.

‘What’s that?’

‘Raw tuna, or something. I just couldn’t eat it—’

‘Not tuna. The tune!’

‘Someone’s phone! It’s ringing!’

‘That’s mine!’

‘Blimey, is signal working?’

‘Answer it, answer it before it cuts out!’

‘It’s… Dean? Hello, hello?’

Neill groaned. ‘Don’t use your bloody battery up on mates right now! We need rescue!’

‘Hi, Dean. Yeah, sorry, I can’t speak right now, I’m in a bit of a pickle! What? …Yeah, we’re still in Wales. Well, I’m trapped on an island, of all places! No, no—’

Neill dug out his phone. ‘One bar of signal on mine too, but not much battery. Who shall I call? Coastal rescue… RNLI, hmm, do we have better chance pretending we’re illegal immigrants for them?’

‘Save your battery, I’ll get the number!’ Natalia pulled out her phone, tapping straight on WhatsApp to see if Alana had said anything more.

‘Well, it’s a bit tricky,’ Ed went on. ‘A bit odd, we’re not supposed to be on this island, and… pardon? You’re here? Near?’ Ed gestured frantically. ‘Oh! Wow. Well—’

‘Ed?!’

He cupped his phone. ‘Tony and Dean, the golfers from Leeds - they’re out on their bloody motorboat in Holyhead. Said they can come get us.’

‘Holy Jackanory! Where are our shirts!’

They stared at the motorboat coming over the water like a white wasp. One fair man at the tiller in dark shades, they could see was Dean. The other, Tony they presumed, was sitting behind.

‘Well, well! What have we here!’ Dean’s laugh lilted as he steered the boat around the rocks.

‘We were waiting for the tourist boat to appear!’ Ed shouted over the engine.

‘There’s none today!’ Dean called back as he settled the boat. ‘Cancelled because of the raid at Timbers last night!’

‘Raid?’

They waited till Dean had turned off the engine and landed with a plop on the sand. ‘Yep! Practically everyone questioned on suspicion of stolen goods and drug possession!’ 

‘Stolen goods?’ Ed blinked. ‘Drug possession?’

‘Why, have you been smuggling out on this island?’ Dean surveyed their faces as Tony climbed out behind.

‘Snuggling? Of course not!’

‘Smuggling,’ Dean chortled.

Neill rapped Natalia’s knuckles and whispered. ‘Put the ring away. Now.’ She fumbled it away as Dean grinned at Ed.

‘You really didn’t know about it?’

‘We were at the party—’ began Ed, ‘well, as guests. We didn’t know a single person. They sailed us out here, and, well…’

‘They dumped you?’ Tony spoke.

‘No, no. We went walking and they forgot about us - they were all blind drunk! No signal out here last night, so no way to call anyone till you popped up.’

‘Don’t worry,’ Natalia suddenly said, not liking the combination of Dean’s fixed smile and frowning Tony’s folded arms. ‘We had nothing to do with those people, or their drugs, or stolen goods, or whatever they did!’

‘Natalia—’ began Neill, till Tony chuckled.

‘It’s ok. We know.’

‘How?’ said Ed.

‘Because you’re stuck out here like three plum puddings!’ laughed Dean. ‘Come on, get in, you all look exhausted! Is it just the three of you?’

‘Yes, yes—’

‘What’s that?’ Dean bent down at something black washed up on the sand. ‘Yours Tony?’ he chuckled.

Tony grimaced. ‘My god, it’s someone’s sex toy!’ 

They stared at the truncheon, tangled up in the seaweed.

‘Guys, we’d better take this,’ Neill reached for it. ‘There’s enough plastic waste there for a poor seabass to choke on…’

‘No, no. This’ll be from the police raid,’ as Tony pulled out a hanky, ‘can’t be keeping anything incriminating. I’ll hand it in at the Timbers.’

The three climbed onto the boat, Natalia sitting stiffly with Neill at the back. After her momentary tirade she decided it was safest now to keep as quiet as possible, as Tony started up the engine and drove.

‘This is Natalia - who’ve you’ve already met, and Neill—’ Ed motioned his hand, ‘my good friends, and smitten. My own lady’s back in London. I’m showing these the delights of North Wales till they go back to Leeds.’

‘What do you do, Neill?’ called Tony.

Neill cleared his throat. ‘I, er - I teach! Well, the less said, the better. I’m actually resigning! Total career change!’

‘Ahh! Fed up of school kids?’

‘Run off my feet by them!’ - Natalia elbowed Neill to ‘not use sleazy puns right now’ to Neill’s elbowing insistence that he wasn’t. Dean was mid-sentence to Ed about his beauty therapist girlfriend in Ripon when he added:

‘Oh, with our boring IT jobs, we know all about that. We were just talking about sacking it in and becoming pirates!’

‘You are, aren’t you?’

They all laughed, but Natalia turned pale as the boat grew faster and faster - whacking ferociously over the water, and Ed chose this moment to begin singing ‘sky of blueeee and sea of greeeeen! In our yellow submariiiiiine!’ And everyone sang the chorus with gusto whilst Natalia buried her face into Neill’s armpit.

‘Water, guys?’ Dean passed a bottle. ‘You must be parched!’

‘Oh, yes please. Ladies first!’

‘Let’s head for Trearddur Bay. We know a great place for breakfast!’

Trearddur Bay boasted rugged cliffs and beige-white sands like long mealworms, already dotted with men and women in wetsuits carrying out their boats and paddleboards, and dogs on their morning walk. 

But it was the Sea Shanty Café that looked most inviting to the Famished Five, as Neill called them - holding the door open for the troop as Natalia nervously fingered the diamond ring in her pocket, squeezing Neill’s fingertips with her other hand, despite a curious flush of nerves whenever she caught Tony’s glance down her bag as if he would guess what was in there.

Inside the café was like a nautical museum. Oars mounted on the walls; rope gathered up in piles and portholes by the tables. Running into the toilet to wipe off her slept-in makeup, she saw the toilets were signed ‘buoys’ and ‘gulls.’ When she came back out, she saw Ed gazing at dozens of labelled jars behind the bar:

‘Wow. They even made sea rubbish look pretty,’ Ed chuckled.

‘Mermaid’s Purses! I always thought they were sea beetles!’

‘Nah. You, little mermaid, were on a boat with four men singing the Beatles!’

‘Just thank god it wasn’t Come Together.’

A boat hung upside down in the rafters lit by lamps inside. Shelves lined bottled sand from all over the world: Skiathos Island, Aegean Sea; Jasri Beach in Indonesia. They chose a booth beside a sketch of the harbour of Holyhead, and a display of different knives and sailors’ knots. Natalia stared down the list. 

‘Morning’s the best time for it.’ She caught the glance of Tony.

‘Huh?’

‘Holyhead,’ he nodded at the sketch. ‘Where we sailed this morning.’

‘Still can’t get over how uncanny it is you’re out here, fellas!’ Ed remarked. ‘Funny you didn’t say when we spoke last week?’

‘We were away like I said, sailing down in Penzance. Was getting stormy down there…’ Dean looked to Tony, ‘so we came up north. I’ve had a boat out here for years. I confess, I forgot you said you’re in North Wales - till I told Tone and he had me call you first thing. I’m pretty freaking impressed myself by the timing!’

‘And a freaking impressive menu,’ chimed Neill. ‘But are we having breakfast or lunch?’

‘Who cares! I’m having fish and chips!’ Natalia enthused, as the men laughed, and all chose the same, and after placing their orders and requesting the biggest jug of water they could get - ‘as big as the Titanic please, but without so many holes!’ - Dean made some remark about golf courses, and everything seemed amicable - till Tony commented on their desert island story having as many holes. 

A silence fell.

‘Hey, hey,’ Dean chirped. ‘They’re starving, their brains can barely function!’

After a few minutes of so-humid-for-April talk, five huge battered cods were fast arriving, and their salivary glands were all that were going, as the island survivors eagerly stuffed their faces, watched bemusedly by their sedater-paced rescuers. Neill interrogated the waiter for her missing orange juice, whilst Ed poured Natalia’s water and offered ‘posh tartare sauce, lovie?’ as Natalia wondered how much she was going to miss having two suitors, just before Tony - brow furrowed into a Frida Kahlo line again - posed the awkward question of how they missed something else.

‘I mean, the Galeón Andalucía is the most startling ship on the seas! Did someone knock you unconscious?’

Dean chuckled.

‘Oh, the whole thing last night was peculiar,’ Neill took up his napkin. ‘No-one seemed interested in puffins, nor even drink on the island. We, er - went round the other side to look at puffins. Natalia’s very into birdwatching…’

‘Oh?’

‘Then they all cleared off pretty sharpish,’ said Ed.

‘They probably got word someone dobbed them in,’ said Dean.

‘Or you were too long looking at puffins,’ said Tony.

Silence.

‘So we were at a pirate’s party, were we?’ spoke Ed.

‘Robert Bardon’s a fence,’ Tony said after a pause. ‘Thousands of pounds of stolen jewellery that he holds parties to sell. The police made the raid at Timbers but, as we can see now, the island was the perfect place to transact. They say it was a tip-off from an infiltrator not in their class. We thought the infiltrators were you!’

‘Poundstretcher,’ muttered Neill, as Natalia’s chewing slowed to a halt. Her hand sweated on the ring in her pocket and she suddenly wished she’d flushed it down the toilet. Had the night-time stint really evaded her from the ludicrousness of broke Neill’s sudden boxless diamond wares, till this glug of orange juice concentrate had her do the same?

‘Did Bardon invite you?’ Tony asked.

‘We don’t know him,’ said Ed. ‘It was his humble brother.’

‘Brother?’

‘Tobias…’ Ed hesitated now. ‘A chap at a lonely old house about two miles from Rhuddlan Golf Club. We stumbled on his driveway when looking for directions and, er—’

‘Ferdy put the heebie-jeebies up us pretending to command an arrest!’

Tony looked to her in surprise.

‘That’s his parrot, who even sings pirate sea shanties,’ guffawed Ed. ‘Yo ho ho and a bottle of—’

‘No, no,’ said Natalia. ‘He sang a line from The Wizard of Oz.’

‘Right,’ Ed tittered.

‘Yes, yes, Ed! ‘She’s gone where the goblins go. Yo-ho, let’s open up and sing and ring the bells out!’ …I know because Neill put it on for me last week! And even Tobias’s nickname is Toto, a woman at the party said!’

Tony and Dean looked more astounded.

‘Well,’ chuckled Ed, ‘Dear Toto took us in for tea with his many missuses. Missuses? Is that a word?’ - as Neill nodded - ‘that turned out to be rubber sex dolls! Hundreds of them.’

‘Hundreds of misused missuses,’ Neill added. Tony’s eyes seemed to glint, as Natalia looked down awkwardly. 

‘But his parrot was lovely. I wish I could have one.’

‘Thought you preferred a cockatoo? chuckled Ed, as Neill elbowed him.

‘And this Tobias just asked you along?’ Dean asked.

‘He must have thought we had a pretty penny when we joked about Sotheby’s. Although he did say bring your finest duds, so he can’t have thought much of our clothing.’

‘Dads?’ frowned Tony.

‘Duds. Duds usually means cash,’ said Dean.

Natalia gave one of her humphs, as Neill turned bemused. 

‘Well I think this is all too far-fetched!’ she screwed her nose. ‘Why would this Rob bloke hire such a stupidly ostentatious boat to do his crimes right in front of the whole port’s noses? People didn’t need a password to get in. We could have wandered right off the street!’

‘Oh, people like that thrive on putting it right in the world’s face,’ Dean said whilst Tony took a long glug of water. ‘It’s not about money for Bardon. It’s about the statement, the excitement for his party on an island, smugglers’ style, dancing it in the authorities’ faces!’

The other men concurred, whilst Natalia was quietly muttering. ‘Sale, sail. Treasures. Rocks!… and he said we’ll be safe…’

‘So how did they get busted?’ said Neill. ‘You two seem rather full of knowledge.’

‘Well, we heard that an hour after they got back to the bar, the police turned up, raided the boat, the bar, and made about twenty arrests,’ Dean said. ‘Most were questioned, but it was Bardon they were after.’

‘The lower deck was heaving with stolen jewellery,’ added Tony. ‘You’d expect one treasure chest - this one had three!’

Neill and Ed exchanged a look. ‘Was it all in the morning paper so quick?’ frowned Neill, which in turn made Dean and Tony shift in their seats.

‘I confess, a friend of ours is a journalist,’ Dean nodded. ‘He’s rather talkative, a bit of a… how do you say…’

‘Flibbertigibbet,’ said Ed and Natalia together.

‘Yup. He was at it all night,’ chuckled Dean.

‘Lucky him!’ Ed cackled, and then all them did, and Dean declared their table to be on the right side of the law -  and Ed, ‘the wrong side of the bar!’ and the conversation quelled into golfing chit-chat between those two, and a more placid topic of fishing between Neill and Tony, till Neill’s sea knowledge ran dry and Tony stared blankly into Natalia’s plate of rejected fish skin before a sudden grin.

‘Sickness all gone, now?’

‘Oh, yes’ - as Neill wiped sauce from her chin.

‘Ice cream for the lady? Vanilla?’ Tony said.

‘Oh, yes!’

‘Her favourite,’ sighed Neill as they all ordered the same, and sat back stuffed. Ed then offered to pay because ‘Neill is broke as fuck,’ but was overturned by Tony, who drove them back to Beaumaris showered in thanks. They reached Ed’s car with polite refusals to go fishing to ‘catch their dinner too,’ as Neill insisted they must drive back to Yorkshire before rush hour.

‘Merciless missuses! Parking ticket from this morning!’ Ed moaned at his windscreen.

Dean scrunched it up and passed it to Tony. ‘Don’t bother, I’ve had plenty. Traffic police here are useless. They’ll never chase you, right, Tone?’

‘Fair enough. Saves me some pennies! Well, cheers for the breakfast chaps. See you for golf in Ganton then! Adios!’

Natalia couldn’t wait to get inside the car, pull the ring from her shoe, and toss it hard under the seats. 

‘So this is stolen, isn’t it! Fucking STOLEN!’

‘Hey!’ exclaimed Neill. ‘I didn’t steal it!—’

‘Don’t tell me you gave a criminal money for this!’

‘It was… gifted to me, last night!’

‘Gifted?’

‘Given to me. By some drunk Trust Fund trollop I got talking to about my gorgeous Ophelia and then he pulls this perfectly dainty ice from his pocket like a Christmas cracker wanting his moment to feel like the Dalai Lama! Pop the question in the moonlight by the baby puffins, she won’t say no!’

‘Oh, all that puffin monogamy baloney! Of course!’

‘Mate, you must have smelt a rat once he pulled out the bling?’

‘I didn’t know anything about the three fucking trunks of loot they were getting out of the hold! When we landed ashore the island I chivvied you straight to the other side, remember!’

‘Three lambs in the lion’s den,’ Ed muttered. ‘We missed the whole crime. Couldn’t make it up!’

‘How many fucking laws do we want to break on this trip, you always say!’ screamed Natalia.

‘Hey, hey! Darling, let me sit in the back with you… Ed, wait—!’

But Ed bolted the car forward so Neill fell back in his seat. ‘No time to waste, lovers! We have to go see Lan-fair-pill-gwinnigog-antsy-gogo-gok, from the seven wonders of Wales!’

‘58 letters. Longest town name in the world, you say?’

‘Nope, there’s an 85-letter one in New Zealand.’

‘I bet my dad’s name is even longer,’ Natalia yawned from the car window whilst Neill and Ed stood staring at the twenty-foot-long railway sign. ‘So what now, bum chums?’

‘Anglesey Zoo, Natalia? There’ll be parrots.’

‘Too tired. Bored of birds.’

‘Come on then. There’s nothing to do here except buy socks and fudge.’

They hadn’t got to the Menai Bridge before Natalia gave a yelp that she’d forgotten to take her pill that morning - ‘well it’s not the first thing you think of when stranded on a desert island!’ and after they’d pulled into a layby, and she’d raided every bag in the boot, despaired she’d left it in the caravan, she finally retrieved it from inside What Maisie Knew.

‘Oh, Maisie knew after all!’

‘So what happens when you’re late taking it by six hours,’ said Ed. ‘Does the local Mothercare have a DNA swab lab to find out who’s the father before it sells you a cot?’

‘She’s fine,’ googled Neill. ‘Less than 24 hours doesn’t make a difference.’

‘Monica posts so much of her growing waistline to Facebook, I feel like I’m the dad myself. Nothing sacred anymore!’ Ed ranted, as Natalia pondered the peculiarity that she couldn’t be friends with Ed or Monica on Facebook, yet knew the location of two of his most intimate moles - and for Neill, who’d never been on Facebook, whose erection she’d tapped more then she ever did a newsfeed - she had a private joy that she never had to virtually despise him through glib written statuses.

Driving coastal east again, they’d dropped by Bangor upon Natalia’s sudden need for a beaker of tea from an amusement arcade, and then her observation that ‘the tokens here have the same Pleasure Island logo from the tokens I saved from the last arcade!’ - another 140 of which she needed for a small bag of Haribos, promptly confiscated by Neill as ‘tomorrow’s Sports Day prizes.’ Whilst Neill violently butt-shoved a coin pusher - ‘do look, my hip’s fine again!’ he cheered to a baffled assistant - Ed spent the best part of £20 grabbing Natalia a toy sheep, which he presented to her in apology for ‘cheating on my doll with a woman not a fraction of your sexiness, for I was lonely after you’d gone cold on me and didn’t know why.’ And she apologised softly back that ‘it was my idea to have bulldog bugger you, sorry!’ and smooshed the lamb into her face, laid on the car’s back seat with Hello Kitty as a pillow.

‘Well, your lamb wins,’ Neill peered. ‘Hey, whilst she’s asleep, have a hunt round for that ring.’

‘Her eyes are opening.’

‘What are you talking about me?’ she murmured.

‘That we’re on our way back to Eddie’s, darling!’

‘But Neill you told the men we’re going back to Leeds today…’

‘Because I don’t want them sniffing after us in Bala. I thought that was rather enough questions for one holiday. And you Ed, had no problem answering every single one of them!’

‘They’re cool guys,’ said Ed. ‘Nothing untoward. I told you, Dean’s got a girlfriend twenty years younger.’

‘I’m not talking about our little chickling. I’m talking about the embezzled diamond I put on her finger!’

‘Well, that was before we knew they knew a journalist.’

‘They’re probably crooks too. They knew an awful lot about Buccaneer Bardon.’

‘In that case, I’ll get you both wedding rings when I see them in Leeds,’ Ed smirked. 

‘You expect to use my cottage as a base?’ 

‘And your fiancée as second and third.’

‘Girlfriend. I’m only girlfriend!’ Natalia called. ‘The proposal was a fraud!’

‘Hey, I meant every word, of course I did! And until I can get your ring finger a band of gold that isn’t illegally trafficked from Peru, I’ll buy a packet of Hula Hoops every day and eat them off your fingers till the day I can, yes?’

‘Mmmm… maybe.’

‘May as well drop by the Spar for bread, bacon and bits for the morning,’ said Ed. ‘I’ll rustle us up a Carbonara tonight!’

She wouldn’t have thought that the first time a man proposes to her, it would be her headmaster on a desert island. And she would not have dreamt that he’d offer a stolen bit of jewellery, and bum his best mate whilst he did it. But now, the walls of Ed’s Coach House were open like Tobias’s mansion compared to the caravan, and the two men who’d fought like cats now sat back smiling like one, as though Love Island had scarred some necessary conflict upon their souls that they now wore like wisdom, or at least, had Neill slapping Ed’s back with affection as he reached inside the spaceship-sized fridge, and Ed headlocking him back for a bromance dance.

So it seemed natural to Natalia to beg for three-in-the-bed, ‘that seems like an island now, in a king room as vast as the sea!’ - into which she first threw in her toys, ‘we can really be the Famous Five!’ - before running back to the bathroom because she’d drunk so much water since the shipwreck she had to go ‘piss out something like the sea itself.’ And as she pissed, she thought of how much she’d enjoy having the men to herself after all the socialising, and all the driving and dancing and dodging of true identities. Their paint palettes had been compromised too much with others’ shades; now their paints would spill only onto her again.

But also, their unrestrained farts.

She came back as Ed was yanking off his top and wafting it behind him as Neill fluffed his pillows, both still debriefing the Puffin Island debacle. 

‘So it was thanks to Poundstretcher, and to me for inviting her, that a world-class fence was busted. I should have a police reward.’

‘You already got that, Lucky Taint. But come here and have another…’ 

Neill invited their bedfellow to the banquet of Natalia spread-pinned up on his body, so that Ed shifted up between their four scissored legs, to ‘get your revenge, yes? Cuckold both of us, Handmaid’s Tale style,’ as Ed waits for the look of agreement upon Natalia’s countenance, and she presses forward to kiss him, and he pecks her back, and slowly shifts upon and inside her, and she jointly experiences with Neill, being rut-jerked like a woman on a speedboat.

She wonders if Neill is ok, or emasculated by this - till Ed’s neck, giraffing above her with veins that tell her he’s close - she sees Neill’s hand hover - and the other grasp his nose, and sailor Ed falls forward into a spluttering, nasal ship-honk just as he comes. And every irking thing Ed has ever done or said, is falling from his face as he collapses back onto the mattress, and a tissue she throws sodden with his juices bounces off his forehead, and Neill laughs, ‘we needed that!’

She’d slept till noon, waking to find the bed empty - and vaguely recalled, amidst a dream about ships sailed by big-breasted pirate dolls, Neill’s mutterings of ‘let’s leave her, she doesn’t want to fuck’ - or maybe she dreamt it - but she could hear now, the men clanking something up the cellar stairs, and figured they were happily occupied with something other than sex.

Three omelettes later, on a long walk around Llyn Tegid wearing Neill’s jumper and Ed’s spare yellow mackintosh, Neill back in his black Grim Reaper mac didn’t perturb as much as comfort her. For she basked in the continued peace of their triangle, unspoilt even by last night’s Nose Clip prank, watching drizzle now like a thousand water-sprays across the lake bury Steve Dinkey’s phone a few inches more, and wash away the brouhaha of the sodomy, and the criminals they’d been embroiled with, and Alana’s ‘urgent’ message she still hadn’t followed up on.

‘Easy dinner at The Bull’s Head, my little fuckee-duckees? On a Thursday afternoon there should be no band to deafen us.’ And as they stripped off their wet coats at the warm wood, Ed’s phone was blaring. 

‘Eli, switch that off and sit down for Yahweh’s sake. We want to eat, and then we want go home and fuck.’ 

‘Gotta get this. Grab me a pint of Glamorgan.’

Natalia checked her own phone that had been ringing at the same time. Missed call from Alana, and now the words loomed:

‘Now you, fiend, staring at yours. I’ve a good mind to whip you both soundly and send you to bed.’

‘It’s Lana,’ she sighed. ‘She’s just texted me again about something urgent. Now I’m worried about what it is.’

‘It’ll be her wanting to know if you’ll try her edible Quorn tampons. Call her yourself and put it to bed. So we can do the same to you. O’Neill and Co want you nice and relaxed, yes? For lots of attention?’

‘Ye-ess…’

‘Yes? Wake up, little worrier. Squeeze my hand really hard if you mean yes. …Ouch!— Goodness!’

‘So is your hip alright now?’

‘Yes, but not my hand!’

‘Is that code for consent you’ve devised, better late than never?’

‘We should really devise a code. Listen, if Ed ever does anything you don’t like, just tap my wrist three times.’

‘What if you’re nowhere near?’

‘Oh, I always am. He knows not to touch you if I’m not there.’

‘What if I’m handcuffed?’

‘Well, just say. Ed, get off, you fucking ape.’

‘What if I’m gagged?’

‘Well… just hum. Hum the tune to Coronation Street.’

‘Do you even know the tune to Coronation Street?’

‘I’m banking that I never will.’

Ed came back, mopping his rainy head with a bar cloth. ‘You won’t believe this! Old Bumgibbert’s been arrested for murder!’

‘What! Tobias!’

‘Crikey! Sit down! Spill!’

‘That was Dean on the phone. It’s all happened so fast.’ Ed glugged half his drink as they waited impatiently. ‘So, Dean said his journalist mate Jeremy was all over the story we told them about Tobias yesterday. Police turned around a warrant in record time to ransack his house today on suspicion of stolen art—’

‘Fuck! The big painting wasn’t a replica!’

‘No, no—’

‘Shoved up the sex dolls I’ll bet! That’s what the Vaseline is for! Bet they’re more loaded than Natalia with her lunch money!’

‘And how Ferdy learnt to say stick ‘em up!’ laughed Natalia.

‘That’s what they thought,’ frowned Ed. ‘But there was nothing in them. They’re just… sex dolls. Bumgibbert’s hobby, or even a red herring! But here’s where it gets weirder…’ 

He came closer, as Neill and Natalia held their breath.

‘...He said the police were about to quit, but got access to his cellar when the bloody parrot started singing. The line you said is from The Wizard of Oz, Nat? Open up, sing and ring the bells or whatever. Well, down in the cellar was this ginormous cast-iron bell, from when they were all taken down from the towers in World War II. Took three officers to move it, and lo and behold, inside was a tidy pile of fucking bones!’

‘Fuck me! Human bones?’

‘Well, I can only assu—’

‘His wife?!’

‘Nat, you fucking cracked a murder case!’

‘No! Ferdy did!’

‘You mean the police listened to a parrot squawking a line from a 1939 musical to uncover some sort of Hitchcock pervert?’ scoffed Neill. ‘I’m not buying it.’

‘Well you’ll have something to buy it with,’ said Ed, ‘when Dean sends us £2000 reward money.’ 

Neill spat his ale. 

‘Because we’re the ones who tipped them off about Tobias. Now journo Jez is forwarding reward money from Denbighshire Police, to Dean, which he says he can’t possibly take.’ 

Natalia’s jaw dropped.

‘He says it’s early doors, but he wanted to keep us in the loop and he’ll speak to me again in the next couple days. Well, I’ve had my uncle’s windfall already so it’s all yours, guys! Pubs for the rest of the holiday! Let’s order all five Specials between us!’

‘He says it’s early doors, but he wanted to keep us in the loop and he’ll speak to me again in the next couple days. Well, I’ve had my uncle’s windfall already so it’s all yours, guys! Pubs for the rest of the holiday! Let’s order all five Specials between us!’

‘I don’t know! I sucked marrow out of the lamb’s bone here last time!’

‘There’s something odd about what you’re saying,’ Neill sat frowning.

‘Yup. She’s sucked far worse since.’

‘Shut up. This is all too fast and strange. And who gives police rewards anymore? Is Journo Jez really a cop?’ 

‘The less we ask the better. Two grand could pay your court fees to keep your school’s smart boards, Rich!’

‘Are you kidding? The money will be all Dorothy’s here!’

‘Me!’ Natalia laughed. ‘They would have found the bones anyway! It should go to you, Neill! You’ve got five grand maxed on your credit cards, you said!’

‘Listen, we wouldn’t have even ended up at Bumfuzzle’s house at all if it weren’t for you steaming us down his driveway!’

‘Well if you’re giving it to me, I’m giving it back to you! I’m paying you back for all the food, even the fish and chips in Haworth— yes! - and Dr Brown and the fire engine and the speeding fine and everything I owe you! You can’t stop me!’

‘Guys, guys,’ Ed chortled, ‘it’s not really gonna matter if you two are getting wed. What’s hers is yours and yours is hers!’

‘But poor Ferdy. He’ll be in a cage now, or even flown away,’ sighed Natalia.

‘Two bags reward money and she cares more for paying me back and where the macaw went. That’s why I love this red bird!’

Ed and Neill were clanking away assembling the big table downstairs, whilst she laid on the bed stroking her food belly. Feeling eerier about the bones found in Tobias’s house as it grew dark outside, she pulled out the Schuster card and recalled the joy of being called a young talent by a foreign man as tall as a statue in Portmeirion. 

‘Tell ‘em you spoke to Nathaniel!…’ She spoke to the big drunk cowboy on a boat of crooks before narrowly missing a huge arrest, that led to a parrot giving away his perverted wrinkly owner’s murderous secret? It seemed as ridiculous as adventure fiction. And what about this reward money, that Neill insisted all through the meal was another ‘April Tool’ prank by Ed, till Ed texted his bank details to Dean and he replied with thanks? The whole holiday was as implausible as the Easter story itself.

She pushed the card into her phone holder, warm behind the battery. Then she went back downstairs, where Ed and Neill’s project was finally up.

‘Oh, it’s snooker!’ She stroked her hand across the soft green baize. ‘So how do you play?’

‘First we pot reds, which are one point each. Then the rest in value order: yellow 2, green 3, brown 4, blue 5, pink 6, and black 7.’

‘That’s how many times she’s gonna come on each one.’

‘Oh, no…’

‘Oh, yes.’

‘Why does she like balls in her mouth anyway?’

‘She’s my doggie, obviously. Slightly bigger than a golf ball, but still just right…’ Neill caught her and pushed the red ball into her mouth.

‘Mmmmgfff!—’ She spat it out.

‘Tut tut. You really want to play it like that?’ He grabbed her, swung her ankles in the air, plucked the ball from her hand and burrowed it down between her buttocks. Tickled to wriggles and screams, he planted her upright again with her surrendered, mirthful mouthful and eyes to floor.

Ed gazed. ‘Why don’t you just tape it in there like A Clockwork Orange?’

‘I don’t believe she’s seen it.’

‘Thought that would be first on your movie night list when she was 15 or something! The Wizard of Oz to start and Blue Velvet for afters! Daddy want to fuck!’

‘Hilarious, Ed. But we don’t watch rape scenes.’

‘Ahat fwum rast hango een poweees!’ 

‘Pardon?’

Natalia braced the ball with her forefinger and stretched her lips wider.

‘Ahart from Last Tango in Pawis!’

‘Oh. Anal rape, Ed’s favourite. But I reckon we should put a ballgag on him too and have the pair of you like Bruce Willis and the black guy in Pulp Fiction.’

‘Jeez. Don’t give me PTSD.’

Natalia slobbered as she put her finger to the ball again with more indecipherable words. 

‘Yes, yes. I do believe I told you never to touch the ball when it’s in your mouth. ‘Right, over the table.’ He clicked his fingers. ‘Now.’

‘Gosh what’s life going to be like married to him?’

‘Right over. Arms by your sides…’ 

Her knickers were pulled down and the guys gazed at her bottom.

‘What do you reckon? Smack that with the cue or just go for the red point first?’

‘Well, you might as well make her bottom red for the red balls.’

‘Good idea. No wriggling, Sex. I’ve gotta aim this right.’

A whimper of anticipation as she saw the cue slid from the table, and in a few seconds, the wood landed softly on her bottom, again harder and stinging, till the ball shot out with a cry.

‘Aim it, aim it!’

It scattered the red balls as the men cheered and Natalia stood up and looked rather pleased.

‘What ball’s next!’ she declared.

‘Now she’s into it.’

‘My balls. Oh, my balls!’ Ed said feverishly.

‘I don’t recall hairy purple snooker balls,’ she laughed - then nearly fell over to the yellow ball being shoved in her mouth.

‘But you didn’t make her come on the red one!’

‘She got a spanking. I’ve got a better idea. Every colour she’ll get something, and if Miss Cummings is a good girl, she’ll earn seven cummings on the final black ball.’ 

‘Nice one. Yellow is two points, so…’

‘Two fingers. Yours and mine.’

‘Up…’

‘…Her bottom.’

‘Mnngghh!’

‘She gets it in the pocket, till she gets it in the pocket.’

One finger from each man pincered her anus, like a wayward sea creature lasciviously latched on and manoeuvring her left and right, till one particular deep poke from Neill, she knew - had her PHOOH the ball across the green, teetering on the edge, before landing in the net.

‘I say! She’s on a roll!’

‘Green 3.’

‘What do we do for green?’

‘A puff of joint each, obviously. Light one up.’ Neill took and cradled her, swapped out the ball and dutifully fed her before stuffing green back - and her back over the table. The guys then pulled up chairs, blowing the rest over her bottom till she moaned with the rush of the high, aimed the ball and netted it.

‘Nice one! Who says weed doesn’t help concentration?’

‘Brown 4. We should have saved her arse for this one.’

‘Four fingers up then. Simple.’

Groaning now quadruple-pincered, the ball missed the net. The Bull’s Head banquet was clearly shunting the contents of her bowels now.

‘Ah well. One point comes off the seven’ - as she moaned in protest. ‘Just the way the game goes!’ Neill popped in another ball smeared with her juices. ‘Blue 5! What do you reckon?’

‘Blue balls. That we’ve got, watching her have all the fun.’

‘She has to stroke both our balls and as soon as our cues are up, so to speak, she shoots it.’ 

Cue fly unzipping. ‘Well yours is almost there Rich…’ 

Her hands upturned behind her, she felt for their velvety sacs and massaged her middle finger at each prostate.

‘Hey, she’s doing yours more!—’

‘Well, I am her betrothed…’

‘Pish. You’re a cheapskate-ring, ring-abusing, ring-fence colluder.’

‘Shoot! Shoot that ball! I’m not wasting my load on a blind backward wank from a drooling spastic.’ The ball rolled across the table lamely and stopped in the middle, as she moaned.

‘Pink 6. Six objects up the pink. Don’t shoot that ball till we say!’ 

One by one, six of something were being inserted, each cold and angular till she realised by the fifth, by the chilly dribble down her leg that they were ice cubes.

‘You reckon she can go?

An almighty blow of the ball as three sloppy cubes clattered to the floor.

‘Bravo!’

‘Black 7. But you lost two points, so it’s only five, Cummings!’ He turned her round on the table and brought the black ball to her lips. 

‘My cunt is freezinmmmgghhhh!—’

‘That stays there all the way through. Don’t worry, we’ll warm you up. Now let’s show Ed… Natalia, spread!’

The first times she’d done it with Neill, it was slow spooning and missionary, building up to doggie, but with Ed it was the reverse. Doggie, till she, or he, had the nerve to face each other. Was it that his face wasn’t as beautifully pleasing as Neill’s or that she wasn’t in love with him, or was it because, she thought - the rhythm of missionary compared to doggie was like riding a car without suspension, the cock reduced to a little poke, making her almost pity that man for his Priapic vision reduced to what was more like a chipolata chafing back and forth through a wide open oven door?

But now, after nine orgasms, alternately finger and tongue-wanked (she’d doubled on two orgasms and they couldn’t exactly stop her) her vagina swelled peculiarly like an airbag, and laid back over the hard border of the table, pushed up her sacroiliac so that when either of their cocks penetrated, seemed to ignite two G-spots at once. After numbingly cold ice now came double hot cock - and something else, buzzing in her anus and fighting with Carbonara turd, she realised was the buttplug, that Ed had finally put batteries into from his kitchen drawer, whilst she ‘MMMed!’ to the skylight. 

‘I’m so high it’s like the room is buzzing!’ Ed panted on his go.

‘No, that’s her phone,’ Neill reached to the kitchen island. ‘Oh look, it’s your lush! Wouldn’t she be surprised if I answered it!’

Natalia shot up and spat the ball. ‘Sorry, Neill, but oh my god, dump it!—’

‘Well then, use that mouth to answer it.’

‘She’s going to tell me off about something, I just know it!’

‘Then get boyfriend Edward, Senseless Inspector to answer it!’

Ed stood cupping his own balls, looking to the flashing phone like it was a poisonous snake.

‘Come, come slide onto the couch,’ motioned Neill. ‘Nothing to be afraid of when you have two men. Make us come together, and she’ll be part of a foursome without even knowing it, yes?’

The men promptly placed the phone between them, tapped the green button and both lay back.

‘Hey… hey Lana,’ Natalia began, staring from one twitching cock to the other.

‘Finall-y!’

‘Yeah, sorry, been so busy…’

‘Hey, that pic you sent me couldn’t be Wales!’

‘Oh yeah, it’s an island off the coast of Pembrokeshire,’ Natalia leaned into the nearest man crotch.

‘Skomer,’ whispered Ed.

‘Sugoma,’ said Natalia. ‘But it’s more like Pleasure Island!’

‘Oh, lush!’

‘Lush, lush,’ she winked at Neill from Ed’s scrotum. ‘How was Thailand?’

‘Oh, amazing, amazing. Just have jetlag like hell and what do you know, I get home to mum getting the crazies from Karen Dinkey. Mr Dinkey’s wife, you know—’

Natalia sat up again. ‘Yee-ah?’

‘I heard them through the living room door. Karen in hysterics over some things she found in Steve Dinkey’s car! Then today, my mum knocks on my bedroom door and shows me a picture - of you!’

‘Of… me?’ Natalia’s eyes went like marbles at Neill.

‘Yup, your school photo! It was in Dinkey’s boot, with your tie? Your name’s written on the label! Karen sent a photo of them to mum on WhatsApp. She said she recognised her but couldn’t recall where from. I was like, mum, it’s Natalia in my class, obvs!’

‘Obvs!’ She watched Neill scrambling to pull on his pants, followed by Ed.

‘…And she wanted to know if N Molova was the girl in the photo, and I was like, well before I dyed her hair!’

‘Haa! Er, well, what’s Dinkey doing with my photo and tie? I don’t understand.’

‘I thought you could tell me that! Well, was there something?’ 

‘What?’

‘Going on.’

‘Going on?’

‘Between you and Dinkey.’

‘No. What do you mean?’ She slowly sat down, opposite Neill, who was fingering his sweaty hair whilst she wished she never answered this call. She wished she’d chucked her phone into the lake with Steve’s!

‘Well you always liked him, didn’t you? Since he helped you on Sports Day.’

‘Not like that! Don’t be disgusting!’ She muted the call and swallowed hard. ‘Neill, Neill… what shall I do!’

‘It’s just that Karen’s a nervous wreck thinking her husband was a schoolgirl molester,’ Lana’s voice continued.

‘Who knows what he was,’ whispered Neill.

‘Who knows what he was,’ Natalia repeated into the phone.

‘Get her to call me. See if she knows anything about Dinkey,’ Neill’s next whisper instructed - ‘it will give us time to think’ - as she muted and unmuted.

‘Lana, why don’t you get her to call Neill? See if he knows anything about Dinkey?’ 

‘Oh, that’s an idea. I could call him myself of course, but, well - it’s better mum does it. Well, sorry to spring this on you. I wanted to let you know before mum tells Karen to go to the police or something. Like, I’d majorly wanna know if the police had a photo of me!… Anyways, gotta go, Dad’s made moussaka - an even curiouser happening!’

The three stared as the call finished. ‘I searched his boot,’ groaned Neill. ‘Under the spare wheel, I’ll bet.’

‘Neill, do you really think Karen would take the photo and tie to the police!’ Natalia trembled.

‘Highly unlikely she’d sully her late husband’s memory with a post-mortem scandal, but we need to think of something.’ Neill motioned her up. ‘Come. Let’s go upstairs and talk.’

‘Tie? Photo?’ Ed croaked. ‘Is anyone gonna fill me in, and not with truncheon?’

‘Eddie dearest, it’s not for you to worry about. Just something Natalia and I need to sort out.’

‘Like fuck! Out with it!’

‘Ed, we can’t ruin your holiday…’

‘Listen, babe! On this holiday I’ve been cuckolded in a house of lesbos, wank-raped on the stairs and buggered in a rock pool. I can’t really go much lower, so I’d rather you tell me what’s going on so I can help reduce the chance that I go to the pig pen too and get buggered by real sadists.’

An unlit fag fell from Neill’s mouth, whilst Natalia’s hair hung to the floor.

‘Look at you two,’ guffawed Ed. ‘Come on lovebirds, you’re getting married - sometime, somewhere, two grand up, even if it only gets you to Swansea! I’ll get the jacuzzi-boozey going and you can tell all to Inspector Senseless!’

Jacuzzi on maximum, a ‘Be-Nuder Triangle’ feasted on beer o’floats and plates of sliced saucisson and oranges - all the fruit that was left - as Natalia related to Ed the inflammatory meeting with Dinkey when he’d presented the items found in Neill’s drawer just before he corked it.

‘So what’s the real reason he has them? The tie’s from undressing her in the office, obviously.’

‘Well, I did take the tie off her when we banned ties,’ said Neill. ‘Eventually got its use when I strung her up over my desk to take the rest of her hymen when she let £200 of PTA money go to some punk in Year 10.’

‘See, it’s worth hearing this story already.’

‘The photo, well - that was from the days I dreamt of doing the latter. Splattered a good two tablespoons of baby batter from forehead to chin.’

‘Mine or yours,’ Natalia muttered.

‘So we need to put Mrs Dinkey’s mind at rest that the items have an innocuous meaning, and her late husband wasn’t a paedo. Shame, because that would be a funny legacy.’ 

‘Why can’t we just leave her with that funny legacy?’

‘Because Ed, she’s a good conscience woman, just like Dink was, and she’ll want to find out if Natalia is ok. She might even be in such denial that her husband was a groomer that she’d prefer to implicate someone else, and et voila - the police come sniffing the cunt hands of yours truly. And boy—’ he sniffed his knuckles, ‘they’re cunty tonight.’

‘Would be great if we could stage another staff member,’ mused Natalia. ‘Harrison, Allsebrook…’

‘Can’t you lie to the police that Dinkey touched you?’ said Ed. ‘Really award him a legacy?’

‘Too risky fabricating magnificent porkies like that, Ed.’

Ed frowned. ‘Did you ever talk to Mr Dinkey about your missing dad, Nat?’

‘Nope.’

‘The photo could have been something people used in pursuit of finding your dad. That Dinkey was helping you find him.’

‘Yes, yes…’ began Neill, ‘he took your school photo to show Russian men down at Meanwood social club, or something…’

‘And the purpose of the tie was… for her DNA?’ Ed blinked. ‘Her handwriting? The spelling of her surname?’

‘Weak, weak. Especially with that super knot in it,’ Neill screwed his nose.

‘This situation is stickier than my snooker table.’

‘Can Cock Becky help?’ Natalia sighed.

‘Cock Becky?’ spat Ed. ‘Is that your cougar receptionist, don’t tell me you’re banging her too!’

‘Now listen!’ Neill rapped the tub. ‘What have we learnt the past two days?’

‘On modern day pirates, male rape or murder?’ said Ed.

‘On mirage. Toby had us all standing there, hands in the air for a parrot. His pistol lighter had Natalia shit down her leg. His sex dolls made him look like a pervert when he’s really a murderer. Illusion, that’s what it’s about! So we create an illusion.’

‘Maybe the tie is an illusion of my disappearance from home!’ Natalia exclaimed. ‘The tie was found, matched to my name and put forward by someone to Dinkey, because I ran away from home and my mum was concerned about me…’

‘…And we could prove somehow you’re alive and well with your boyfriend Ed-ward in South Wales,’ added Ed.

‘…An illusion I’ve already sent Mrs Reynold’s daughter, who’s seen a pub photo of me with Edward himself!’

‘Bingo!’

‘But Karen might check all this with your mum?’ Neill frowned.

‘Let her! Remember my mum rang you that time, Neill, asking about my welfare!’

‘Of course I remember. I throb just to remember.’

‘Thank god I didn’t send her a shitty text after finding out she’s a lying witch! I’m still in her good books for wishing her happy birthday.’

‘Bugger, you told her you’re in Scotland!’ 

‘Scotland, Wales, Ireland… they’re all the same to her,’ shrugged Natalia.

‘Call Karen, Rich!’ said Ed.

‘No, don’t,’ urged Natalia. ‘It will look fishy. She needs to call you. So I’ll text Alana and make sure she gets Karen to do it.’

‘Tell her to push for it tonight,’ said Ed. ‘Play up to her, say aye, you’re right chuck - you don’t want the police having a photo of you, that will be well naff!— or whatever the Leeds youngsters say.’

‘Ok, ok,’ Natalia tapped away.

‘And now we shiver and wait like nervous Nancies?’

‘Let’s get dry and watch a film.’

‘A Clockwork Orange?’ said Ed as he picked orange peel from the water. ‘Kubrick classic, banned in the UK for thirty years!’

‘That’ll just make her all wet again.’

The screen blared Royal-Mail-red. Four white-suited ‘droogs’ drink their milk, beat up a tramp, steal a car, and continue a night of ultra-violence by forcing their way into a house, ‘just like in Natalia’s porn, she’ll love this after being in a boat with four men!’ - promptly beating the husband before ballgagging him and his wife.

‘He’s hitting on her a bit hard!’

‘Now that is ludicrous,’ added Natalia. ‘How would men find the end of the sellotape so easily?’ 

They watched as the ringleader, Alex DeLarge, sung in dance-step to Singin’ In the Rain, knocking over the furniture to the couple’s muffled screams, then scissoring away her red jumpsuit as Alex pokes his phallic-nose mask toward her privates and cajoles her watching husband to ‘viddy well!’

‘Shit, I forgot it’s loaded with Russian. Will this trigger Nat’s sadness?’

‘Nadsat-ness! Nadsat, the coded language invented by the guy who wrote the book, Natalia.’

‘What do you mean!’ she laughed. ‘The main man Alex is speaking blunter Yorkshire than my mum!’

‘Yep,’ said Neill. ‘Malcolm McDowell is from Leeds.’

‘Oh, I’m so proud. Even weirder that I dreamt of cock noses.’ 

Just then Neill’s phone rang. ‘Unknown number. Here we go.’ 

He answered it, and in the silence of the paused film, right on the face of the tape-gagged woman, they could hear the sound of an exclamative female on the other end.

‘Neill?’ Natalia went pale, as Neill put up his hand and slipped out of the room. 

She sat staring at Ed, till Neill came back and crouched to poke the log stove.

‘Well? What did she say?’

‘Hmm? Oh, that was just one of the governors. Livid that I’m still away, but I bluffed family drama. Nothing to do with the tie and photo, don’t look so terrified!’

‘Er, ok.’

Ed slapped his knees and arose. ‘More beers! Tea, Miss Cummings?’

‘We’re almost out of wood, Ed,’ Neill called.

‘Us, out of wood?’

‘The burning kind.’

‘Here, use this,’ Natalia flapped up the Maisie book. ‘It’s all it’s good for!’ She aimed it into the log stove as Neill let out a cry. 

‘Natalia! What in heavens have you done!’

‘Keeping us warm - on the cheap!’ she laughed. ‘Besides, you don’t care, the number of times you’ve creased the cover!’

‘Paper doesn’t act like wood!’ He fished it out. ‘It just turns into ash and makes a stink!’

‘More than you are. Use the tongs, dick.’ Ed reached in to pluck the book, half incinerated, dropping it into the empty fruit bowl as Neill sighed and the film resumed.

The droogs return tired from the rape, to the Moloko Bar where dopey Dim pulls the handle of a sculpted woman’s breast to fill his cup.

‘Oh look - it’s chip-grease-barnet Tobias, getting milk for his tea!’ Ed hooted.

‘I could have vommed in my mouth when he said that!’

Now ringleader rapist Alex was home in bed with his snake. His mother, in a PVC dress with purple hair, knocks on his door to tell him he’ll be late for school.

‘School!’ spluttered Natalia. ‘He looks about forty! 

‘Schoolboy raping middle-aged women. Johnny Pollock’s hero, I’ll bet.’ Neill pulled his vibrating phone from his pocket. ‘Oh, here we are! Turn the fucking film off. Can’t have Karen hearing Malcolm McDowell belching away in the back. …Good evening, Mrs Dinkey! How are you bearing up?’ 

He placed the phone on the table as Karen’s voice blared from the speaker.

‘I’m terribly sorry to bother you, Neill, in the holidays you know, but I’m just worried sick. We were clearing Steve’s things, you know, oh, it’s been a whirlwind…’

‘It must be a difficult time for you.’

‘…And there was just a little something, a little something I wanted to ask you…’ 

There ensued a minute of ‘beating around the bush more than the droogs did’ - Ed whispered into Natalia’s ear, she stifling a dead-eyed giggle upon Neill’s stern glance - till Karen finally came to the point. 

‘A girl, in a photo we found… who Susan Reynolds suggested I ask you about. She says it’s a girl in her class - name of Natalie?’

‘Natalie?’ Neill looked to Natalia sticking out her tongue.

‘Natalie Moldova.’

‘You must mean Natalia Molova,’ Neill winked, as Ed tickled her chin, and she went on palpitating - ‘Top pupil, family issues. Involved in a disappearance recently. Her mother contacted me last month concerned for her whereabouts.’

‘Oh, you know something?’ said Karen.

‘Well, I wasn’t sure exactly who Natalia was - being a new Head, you know, and she one of the quietest pupils. I had to dig out a photo of her. I gave it to Dinkey to look into, because I was run off my feet at the time, Of course, Dinkey wasn’t well himself poor chap, so he probably never got round to it.’

‘Oh. Oh, that would explain it.’

‘Was there… something else?’ asked Neill.

‘Yes, did you already know?’

‘I didn’t,’ Neill coughed - as Ed kicked him. ‘I just didn’t think this was all about a photo. Something else is bothering you?’

‘Well… alongside the photo was a tie, you see, with her name on the label. N Moldova.’

Natalia flared her nostrils as Ed yanked her softly into a headlock.

‘I’m afraid I can’t for the life of me fathom why he would have her tie,’ Neill said smoothly, as there came an aggrieved breath down the phone. 

‘Just so strange, you know, because it was, well…’

‘What, Karen?’ They all leaned closer.

‘All knotted,’ she said quietly. ‘Like… like… a noose…’

‘Oh, illusions can be deceptive Mrs Dinkey. I don’t think Natalia killed herself.’

‘Oh, no, no! I wasn’t saying—’

‘Wait, wait! You see, I banned ties from Thornwood in November. I do recall now, I saw Natalia in the corridor and demanded she remove it. She was so stressed, poor thing, she pulled it straight off and almost garrotted herself, so I asked if everything was ok at home, but she was too shy to talk to me, I do seem to scare her!… So I passed the tie off to Dinkey to return to her mother when he’d eventually see her about the photo.’ 

Ed raised a double thumbs up, with Natalia’s sweaty hand clasped in one. 

‘Maybe this is what worried him before he died,’ Karen sighed.

‘Oh no, no, it was all sorted by then. I heard from her form teacher that Natalia resolved her family matters and went off with her boyfriend to Pembrokeshire. Some lad called Edward, very responsible sort of chap, I hear. I’ll text you her mother’s number if you want her to vouch for this.’

‘Oh, Mr Neill, thank you ever so much, this is all reassuring, you know, oh… what with Steve’s post-mortem taking longer than we all expected… and his funeral we planned for tomorrow, but being Friday 13th we’re sort of glad not to!…’ 

Karen went on for a few more minutes about getting closure, and their distraught daughter losing her appetite completely, as the three looked to each other in semi-celebratory sobriety, waiting for Karen’s train of thank-yous to reach a point of pause for Neill to wrap it.

‘Send the items direct to Becky McFarlane our school receptionist and I’ll have them returned to Natalia,’ Neill said. ‘Also, talk to Susan again. I recall that her daughter befriended Natalia so perhaps she’s been in touch with her these holidays.’

After another effusion of thanks, he pressed the end button victoriously. 

But Natalia looked glum. 

‘Now I’m nervous about Alana’s mum recognising me from that pub photo, even if she didn’t from the school portrait. It’s like rubbing her face in it.’

‘A risk dwarfed by it being perfect proof of your wellbeing, authentically sent last week! You, somewhere in Wales, with boyfriend Edward played by some guy from a band no-one’s heard of!’

‘Yeah. Ok.’

Feet up, the film went on rather boringly to Natalia. The opening shock of the shrieking rapes had lined her gusset but the blow-by-blow arrest of Alex DeLarge, and the drawn-out jail scenes scored with Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony dried it all back up again. Not to mention whenever the narrator mentioned ‘divotchkas,’ which she’d told Ed and Neill never to call her, grateful for their brotherly nods back, shortly before Neill’s hand slipped up her top. 

‘Another bullet dodged,’ he whispered, ‘all squared away. We’ll call Big Tits tomorrow and fill her in, ok…?’ She sighed back with a stiff anxiety in her belly for everything to feel as squared away as he claimed, putting a finger down to her phone:

‘Just off for a poo, Neill…’

‘Already missing you.’

It took five long rings for Lana to answer.

‘Hey Lana. So everything’s good then?’

‘Yep! Had mum call Karen, Karen called back, said she talked with Neill, now mum’s been talking to Karen again, saying you’re lording it up in Pembroke… it’s been like freaking BT headquarters in our kitchen, we’ve barely eaten our moussaka! Hey, it’s weird though - we recognised the photo?’

‘What?’

‘Well, actually it was Dad. Mum said the ales in the photo were as dark as Dad likes, and he looks over and swore the guy’s from a band in Cardiff.’

Natalia’s belly began to whirl.

‘He designed a stage for them last year, Siddian or something? I looked them up! The lead’s not called Edward though, he’s married, and he’s called Meilir!’

Her bowels opened straight into the toilet bowl as a call drifted from downstairs.

‘Opheeelia! We wanna feeeeel ya!’

‘Don’t tell me you lied again!’ laughed Alana.

‘Yeah. Yeah, I lied. I pretended he was my boyfriend and I’m not really in Greece. I made the whole thing up to try and be like you. I’m in Swansea really, with my cousin…’

‘You sad, sad loser.’

She threw the phone and ran downstairs. The film had been turned off and the football was on.

‘Lana rang!’ she cried, standing knickerless and unwiped.

‘Goodness! What happened?’

‘The fucking Dark Side of the Moon!’

‘What!’

‘Lana. We’re not friends anymore. I mean, everything’s alright with all the Dinkey stuff but we’re just not friends anymore! I have NO friends! You were right all along about her!’

‘Come here, come here darling. We’re your friends…’

‘Neill,’ she wailed in his arms. ‘Can I change class again?’

‘Of course, of course you can darling…’

‘Give her the sweets,’ said Ed.

‘There’s only the gobstopper.’

The crackle-roar of the game, let’s strip you naked. Completely naked. Raised up by her two toys under her feet, swapping over when their legs went dead, stroking her till she quivered like a night sea, the fire flickering out like a forlorn flare. She, friendless, an island, the island of despair… at once was the island of pleasure.