Six Stories of Aphrodite’s Well: The Road to Kerymmenos

By John Thrush

This is a story of loss and being taken on a journey of self discovery by people who come from differing walks of life. Some come from a very plain lifestyle while others come from a military life. They are drawn to a place that does not exist in the normal world but one that comes from the past that was dying from the lack of life, these are beings who do not come from our time, but a time of gods and heroes where everything was ruled by the gods. All characters are brought to a place they bring back to life. They stay and bring life to it and the forces that drew them to it, in this place they all find peace. They find a place to live rather than a place to stay.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Austin Macauley Publishers
• Release date: Nov 30, 2022
• ISBN: 9781398493964

John Thrush

John was born in Scotland and lived there for 34 years before moving to Berkshire, England. He has travelled widely and has drawn on his travels for his book. He has also served in the forces within the territorial army.

Book preview

Part One

When

I had finished college and was looking for a job fixing up old vehicles. Dom and Neil were my best friends since we were at infants’ school. They were non-identical twins, so what was a chat in the local pub, the Fence & Post. I had just got the pints in; so, I said, Got any good ideas for me to make some money? Sell your body. This was Neil; he was always coming up with things like that. He won’t make much, said Dom.

O, come on, I need a job, not jokes. At that, Cathy came in and gave me one of her smiles and Dom and Neil left the table so that Cathy could speak to me; that should have warned me that something was coming round the corner at me. Neil got her a drink and left us to it. Ok, what’s the news? It’s written all over you?

Cathy, what’s up?

I have job with the government, not a tax job.

O, no nothing like that; it’s with the Foreign Office in London. She was looking at the floor.

O shit, Cathy. You will have checks and all the rest done.

I waited to tell you because if I was turned down…

Cathy, we have all ways told each other everything.

Yes and you would have spoken me out of it.

Ok, yes but you told Dom and Neil?

Yes, but I threatened them with a very painful death. Do you want to hear?

Cathy told me what she had said to them only she could get away with it and I damn near ended myself by choking on my beer. But still I wish she had told me first.

When do you go?

Cathy looked at me with those grey eyes of hers. A week on Monday.

Shit, so soon.

Yes, I will have to leave on Thursday. I have digs to get and ID to get and other things that I will need.

Dom, Neil, get over here. We have a going-away party to organise for Wednesday night.

Wednesday night came to soon and I felt sick that she was leaving Rule; more important, she was leaving me. The Fence was full to the point; the over spill went out in to the street. What a night.

Cathy went home with a car full of presents and well wishes for the future but not mine. We had lived next door to each other from the day we were born—the same day, and now she was leaving me. Ok, I was bloody mad at her for going away, but knew she had to go. Rule was a factory town and held nothing for her apart from working on the production line. We unloaded the car in silence. I gave her a kiss at her front door and walked away leaving her standing there.

Yes, I should have said a lot of things to her but I was angry with her; so, like the fool I was, I just walked away saying nothing. Little did I know that I would not see her again for many years but meet again we would. Cathy kept in touch with Dom who let me know what she was up to. She wouldn’t speak to me as she was angry with me for not going to see her of at Carlisle train station. Again, I was a fool not to, but what do you do when the girl that was born in the same ward at the same time, who went to school, high school and college with you and lived next door to you takes off to London? You don’t take the pet as I did, you man up and tell them what you think and feel and that you will miss them; also you will phone and come to London to visit, but no—I did none of those; silly, silly fool that I am.

As for myself, I saw a job that was right up my street in a paper that Neil gave me. Here, have a look at this. What more do you want? he said. Just made for you, mate; old cars and bangers to play with.

Ok, I’ll give it a go. I called the number and was told I had an interview. So, I went down to London on a wing and a prayer for an interview at Blogs Garage—the name should have warned me as to what was to come.

Blogs Garage was in the east end of London and had seen better days. I was armed with all my certificates. Brian Leslie Oliver Gapp was a small man in his fifties; in fact, a real east-end spiv with a cigarette constantly in his mouth. Also, he never stood still; he wore an old battered split hat and an overcoat that had seen better days and had a pencil moustache, but it was his shoes that drew my eyes—they were polished, almost like black mirrors. Come in, come in, sit down. You are here for the job?

Yes, I said.

That’s fine. When can you start?

Tomorrow but don’t you want to see my certificates?

No, no. You will do fine now go and find Bill. He will tell you what to do. That was the extent of my conversation and interview with the man I would call Blogs as no one called him by any other name. So that was my interview; it should have told me what to expect. So, I found Bill. You had chat with Blog, then?

Yes, if you can call it a chat.

He’s like that if he likes what he sees. Where are you lodging about?

Well, nowhere. I was going to look if I got the job.

Well, you’ve got the job. Tell you what, me and her have a room. You can have with breakfast and dinner ’cause he won’t pay you for a week or two. He has money flow problems just now.

So, there it was me working for some dodgy bloke. So, for the next three years, I worked for Blog. He would pay me when he had the money; sometimes I would get a grand dropped in my hand in a brown envelope; no pay slip, nothing. Then, the following week another five or seven hundred; then nothing for weeks or even longer and this is how it would continue for the rest of my time working for Blogs.

Bill did ask me about what work I had done and what tools I had brought with me and many other questions about family, friends and so on. So, what did I wanted to do when I moved on?

Open my own garage repair shop for vintage cars.

Good choice, that’s where the money is to be made. Tell me when you want to go and I will put you in touch with a bloke who’s a master where vintage cars are concerned.

Thanks, Bill.

That’s ok, lad. Come on, you can buy me a pint or six. After, the pub Bill took me to his house to meet with the real boss, Nana.

That’s where I meet Nana. Bill was the workshop boss; he answered to no one but Blogs himself. Lucky for me he took a shine to me straight of as did his wife Nana. She was lovely and the apple of her husband’s eye; she was small and slim built like a stick with dark hair going grey tied back in a server bun. I never saw her with her hair down and she was the rock that Bill stood on. I stayed with them the whole time I was in London and from my first day to my last, they both took great care of me. Their house was only two streets away from the garage but from their bedroom, you could see the front doors and the office where Blogs sat. My first thoughts were a bit small but as time went by it became home. Nana kept it warm and comfortable; plus, a constant stream of tea and bacon Sandwiches. She told me to go to Bill if I ever needed advice or got myself in trouble with the Old Bill or anyone else for that matter, but I never did.

Then, I meet the one person no one should ever have to meet in their life. He was mean, nasty, a horrible cruel man, thin you would almost say he was at deaths door and you would be so wrong. This was Basil—the local gangland boss! This was a man who hated life and anyone or thing that even looked happy; he was death that had found an old skin to crawl in to. There was only one thing that softened that miserable little man and that was his collection of vintage cars—his babies what a waste, they just sat there polished but never ever driven.

One of his lackies told me later that he would go down to the garage and walk among them speaking to each one in a soft voice, but that meant someone was in deep shit. I will try here to tell you the little I found out about Mr Basil MacPhee. Basil was born in Glasgow in 1939 and that’s as much as I know there. He next came to light in England in the 1950s having been arrested for almost killing a man who made fun of his stature. He was put in jail for four years; he then came to the fore in the 60s as one of the top men in London for being behind bank raids, but he was never convicted; it was the minions that took the fall and he walked off with the money; around the same time, people that tried to knock him off the top spot would be found dead in the Thames with concrete neck tie. Basil went up the ladder in the underworld till no one would try and take him on. His vehicles were the cars of his victims and the vans were from raids that were done on security vans that would deliver money for wages, but he only took the ones where someone had died and that’s why he would speak to them; some say it was to gloat, others said he was haunted by those that had been or he had killed. Whichever way you look at it, he was a horrible, horrible man, so, whatever happened to him in the end would be of his own making, but in my mind when the end comes to him may he burn in hell for eternity.

And, so I started work for Blogs on Monday morning, making tea and running messages, some of the blokes tried to get me to go to shops for a long stand or a left-handed screwdriver, even a bucket of steam. I got my own back by telling Jim that the stand would be in next week and I needed a tenner for the deposit; he told me to get stuffed. Then, I told Harry that he already had one in his right hand, then told Bert that I needed a lid for the bucket, so the steam wouldn’t escape; clever bugger you now sort off.

I had only been at the garage a few months when Blogs called me to his office. You, any good with old cars?

Yes, pretty good.

Well, I have a job for you. Bill will take you out to Basil’s old place; one of his babies won’t start. Of you go. Bill is waiting on you. As I walked through the workshop, Jim called out, Dead man walking, best of luck, mate. You’ll need it. I was dropped off at the front gate and without a word, Bill drove away; he never said anything about what I was to do, not even when I asked a question, not a dicky bird. The heavy guard at the gates wanted to know all about me before he let me in the gate; then marched me up the short drive to a very large building known as the pet shop.

What’s this? I asked.

This, boy is Mr Basil’s private car collection; touch and do nothing till he arrives. I was then put through a side door in to a world I could only dream about. There were 30 vehicles from the early years of motoring to the early 70s, it was a mechanic’s dream.

Who are you and what are you doing in here? said a thin nasty voice that reminded me of Scrooge, but far more chilling.

I’m Dan. Mr Gapp sent me to look at one of your cars.

You the best he’s got?

Er…yes. I know my way round quite a few of these cars. Let’s see, it’s the RS 2000 MK1 over there. How long has it been since you drove it?

Never, he said.

How do you want me to start it?

No, no, don’t. If it’s not been run for years you’ll bugger the engine.

Don’t you speak to me like I’m some sort customer at Blogs.

Sorry, but the chambers will need to be lubricated and the sparks will need changed as well as any fuel in the tank plus the timing will need to be looked at and a hundred other things.

Well, get on with it, but be warned if I’m not happy, you will live to regret it, boy, and at that he turned and left.

What the hell have Gapp and Bill done to me? Dead man walking came back to me hells bells and a bucket of blood. I worked till the heavy guard came to get me time. He said, Ok, ok, just this to do. Are you finished?

Tomorrow, I said then, Mr Basil can run her up.

Bill, what in the name of hell have you and Blogs got me in to?

We’ll know when we get back, and that is all he said for the whole journey back. Blogs was there to welcome us back, You are approved, was all he said and walked away. I looked at Bill, all he did was smile, You owe me a bloody great drink for this. Don’t you realise, Dan you are now untouchable. No one will be allowed near those cars except you and him, and he went on, even his muscle can’t touch you without him saying say so.

But what happens to me if he does say so?

Don’t even think about that.

But I did and I worried about it all the next day working on Basil’s vehicle. He came down late that afternoon, Well what do you think, he said in that unnerving voice. Jump in and see for yourself. God please let it start first time and it did; I lived to fight another day.

Basil took me to his private office and sat behind a desk that was far too big for him, went in to a drawer, this is it, the end, but no he brought out a brown envelope and pushed it towards me, That’s yours for a job well done. I have watched you, though you didn’t know it and you do know your way round a car and took great care in what you were doing.

Thank you, Mr Basil, that means a great deal to me.

Now leave. I turned and left that horrible little man but I could feel him watching me even as Bill and I drove away. What’s in the envelope? he said. I hadn’t even looked inside but when I did, Bill, it’s ten grand.

Dan, what did you do to get ten grand from Basil? Well, I’ll be damned. Drinks on you, my boy.

After we got home from the pub, Bill came in to my bedroom.

What’s up, Bill?

I have been thinking about that wedge of yours.

What about it?

Put it away safe, Dan and don’t let on to anyone about it, ok?

Yea, ok, but where to put it?

Not in the bank, that’s for sure; it probably came from there. We both laughed at this. Can you suggest where, Bill?

Leave that to me; I’ll sort something out for you. O, by the way, has Blogs given you anything yet?

No, not a penny, leave that to me. He’ll pay you. And so, three days later Blogs came up to me and pass3ed an envelope to me without a word. It contained £2500; so, I gave Nana £500 of it as I had been with them eight weeks at fifty pounds a week; the rest was for the weeks ahead when Blogs forgot to pay me. After that, he would drop me hundred here, a thousand there and of course Basil would call me out to his cars and that meant a heavy pay day, but I was still unhappy going there; I really hated that man, he always gave me the creeps. After my first visit to hell—that’s what I called Basil’s house, there were many more visits over the years to sort out his cars. It was funny, he never really struck me as a car nut. In fact, Basil knew next to nothing about the vehicles he had, it was only later that one of his men let slip that they were trophies.

If you want to stay alive, mate, never look that deep in to the history of any vehicles you work on here. You get my drift?

Yes, I think I do.

Don’t think, mate, just take it as a word of the wise.

Two and half years after my first visit to Basil’s, Bill took me to the pub and told me in a quiet corner, Look, Dan, times are changing. Blogs is getting sloppy in his business dealings. People are asking questions and they are not people who you want to be seen talking to; so, watch your mouth. Mum’s the word right.

Right, I said, I take it you mean the boys in blue.

No, there are others, more dangerous. So, if I were you, I’d keep a very low profile. Ok, say no more. What you drinking?

Well, if you put it like that, I’ll have a very large scotch.

You trying to bankrupt me, you old bugger.

Less of the old and mind what I say.

Three months after Bill and I had our little talk, strange things started to Happen; customers started to come in and take their vehicles away without warning, men that looked like Mo hacks came in to the workshop asking questions such as have you seen Blogs? This I could answer very easily, No, haven’t seen him for weeks. Two were more forceful, Ok when you do, tell him Basil wants a word.

A few hours after this short but very worrying conversation, Bill came in.

Anyone been in?

Yes, two blokes looking for Blogs.

Who were they, Bill? For the first time Bill looked worried. They said Basil wants a word with him. Bill went white and I mean white. Shit and fuck me. Time to move your tools and mine, big trouble’s coming, son. Just stop what you’re doing, gather up anything of value and get out now, Bill was shouting and looking scared and nothing scared him.

Ok, ok I’m going. I’ll get the van and move as much of our stuff as I can get in.

Good lad. Get going, move, don’t stand and stare at me like a dumb fuck move.

So, I did. I have never moved as fast in my life, Bill shouted to me, Don’t park in front of the house. Park up round the back, behind the old garages, ok and come in the house over next door’s wall after dark, and he was gone.

Well, that was a day I will never forget, there were lots of strange things going on. After loading the van, I went and sat in a coffee shop not far from the garage; there were lots of tough-looking men hanging around, cigarettes been smoked and anyone who even looked at Blogs Garage was pulled up in the alley or in to a shop door way, none too softly either.

Bill walked past the window of the coffee shop and knocked on the window for me to follow him; this I did at a discreet distance. We walked for a good hour until he turned in to a pub and took a seat in a corner facing the door; he still looked worried and drawn. I sat down with two very large whiskeys. Ok, Bill, what’s the story? What the hell is going on? I am scared.

Look, Dan, you’re a pretty decent bloke. So, here it is I’ll tell you what I can, but not enough to get you in any trouble, ok.

Ok let’s have it.

O, by the way, here’s something for you to look at later and yes get another two of the same. You are going to need it. Bill told me about Blogs and his dodgy dealings and that the law looked the other way with some of his dealings for information, but he had got careless and Basil had been arrested with stuff that Blogs had passed on and the word was that some dodgy cop had told Basil who had dropped him in it. So, if Blogs saw the night out, he would be a very lucky man, but, said Bill, I doubt it very much. Tell me, Dan, what have you seen from your front seat in the café?

So, I told him what I had seen; tough men hanging round, saw some people getting roughed up and questioned. We left the pub after a few more very large drinks and went back to Bill’s house by the long route, so, by the time we got back, it was dark and we both went over next door’s wall; well, I climbed over without a sound and Bill, well, he fell over the bloody wall—if it’s possible to fall over a 6-foot wall, and that was the only light note of that night Bill swore like he’d just been told that there was no more drink in London’s pubs and boy, could he swear; he didn’t repeat one word. In the morning, we were a sorry pair we were like death warned up a dumped in the gutter.

Never again, said Bill.

Well, it’s all your own fault, said Nana. This was Bill’s wife and she did not look pleased. Be quiet, woman, there’s more to worry about than us coming in drunk and falling over your precious roses. So, after they had a long row about Nana’s roses, Bill came to the point, We have to get out the area for a long while. I think Blogs is dead and by the sounds of those sirens… At that, a knock came on the door. Nana answered it; she spoke to someone for a few minutes and came back ashen-faced. You are right, my love. Blogs been found dead in his office at the garage.

Anyone else?

No.

That’s our cue, girl, and I hope the others keep their heads down for God’s sake or they will be joining poor old Blogs. You, Dan, have you looked in that envelope yet? If not, there’s £25,000 and a name and address for you. He’ll give you a job and somewhere to stay. It’s all arranged. Now, get the hell out of London and never come back and I mean never.

What about you two? Will you be ok?

Yea, we’ll be fine. Won’t we, love?

Yes, fine.

Now, go this minute, Dan. Time is running out. I left them but did not want to, but I knew that if I went back Bill would give me a good swearing and send me on my way, I was going to miss them.

Cathy

Cathy watched Dan walk away that night of her leaving party and all that she could think was don’t please don’t, but he did and never looked back. Dan Chambers, I hate you. Cathy went indoors with all her gifts and cards and put them on the sofa in the front room; then, went up the stairs to bed. She had a lot to think about the new job in London with the Foreign Office. She had done well to get it. There had been twenty others there for the interviews and they all came from well-off families with their plumy voices and her with her Scottish accent, but she had done it and now she was going. There she was on the train, after long goodbyes to her parents, that last kiss from them, but where was he? He should be there to see her of and wish her luck. Dan did not come; no tender goodbyes; no I will come down and see you; ring me and let me know after you settle in, damn you to hell, Dan Chambers. If I ever see you… it was be too soon, she would relent over the years, Cathy was too soft-hearted to bear a grudge, especially against Dan.

So, this is London. People everywhere; no one to meet her off the train, just an address to go to. Cathy’s digs were in Wimbledon, so that meant that she had to be up and out early to get her tube train, then a short bus journey to White Hall; then, report to a Miss Carter who would show her around and tell her what was expected of her and what duties she would perform. What would she be like? This was the scary part, and would she like her?

Miss Carter was waiting for her, Ah, there you are, Miss Drew. Come with me quickly. I have a busy schedule today and can’t keep important persons waiting. This is where you will work from. Ladies loo is down the corridor on the right; breaks are at ten, lunch at one till two, then, finish at six or seven, depending on what’s going on in the world.

So, Cathy went to work for Her Majesty’s government in the Foreign Office. So, what was Cathy’s very first job? Yes, in one, make tea. But Cathy found that she had a knack of being in the right place at the right time and with the answer that her boss needed and that is how Miss Drew ended up in Berlin and Bonn Germany. Cathy also learned that she had a knack for languages. She also came in to contact with operatives, better known to you and I as spies/spooks. Here, she proved that she could run and control; in fact, handle these people. So, she had to sign her life away on the Official Secrets Act on her file; it said that see worked for the trade delegation in Germany.

Cathy was growing up fast. In six months, she had gone from an office girl to a field handler; this was Miss Jemma Carter’s doing. She was an older woman, very ouster in appearance but knew how to bring people out of their shell and this she had done with Cathy. She had seen a spark in the girl that could with careful handling bear fruit but not at this speed. Cathy was good; in fact, very good. Berlin was just the start. There would be others in more challenging countries, Russia for one and then, maybe China if she kept up her work load.

Cathy became a very good liar when she was in Russia. She told everyone at home she was in Germany and when she was in China, she told people she was in Russia, but she got away with it; even Miss Carter could not believe it. Then, the doubts started to creep in-if she was that good who else could she be working for? So, they brought her back to Spain to work, so that they could keep an eye on her and recheck her CV and background. Cathy continued to work hard at her job, but she knew something was wrong; she was not been given certain papers to read; there was nothing that tested her. All the experience she had gained over the years were not been put to good use.

One day, she was called to into Miss Carter’s office. Miss Carter was sitting with what they would call a face like a slapped arse. Well, she said, You are off to East Berlin, a plum job for one so new.

East Berlin? Why?

It’s a great place. All those shops and so cheap, yes, yes you will be going in three weeks. So, start to get things sorted out and tell whoever you rent from that you will be gone for at least two or three years. Off you go.

Cathy thought, well that’s one for the book and she didn’t look to happy about it. She wanted that one for herself. Well, tough I got it. So, she will have to sulk; plus, I don’t like her anyway. Cathy would be called back to London some years later by The Director of the F/O. Cathy was summoned to London without any explanation, just that she was to report to the Director ASAP on her arrival at Heathrow. What the hell is wrong now? I haven’t hit anyone since that aborted attack by the Americans in the park. So, what can it be? On her arrival, she was picked up by a driver and taken straight to White Hall for her meeting; not even a stop for a cup of tea. The driver was very apologetic and told Cathy that he had been given orders not to stop for anything and to deliver her straight to the Director himself and that was all that was said for the rest of the trip.

London was the same busy and crowded as all ways. Here we are, Miss. I’ll take you straight to him if you will follow me, please. So, Cathy followed the driver to the director’s office; the driver knocked and a voice said, Enter.

In you go, Miss, and he left her to go in and see the most important man in the Foreign Office. Come in, come in and please sit down, Miss Drew. He did this without turning to face her.

Would you like a drink?

Yes, please, she said, a cup of tea would be lovely and a ginger snap or a custard cream if there are any.

Ah, Miss Drew, you shall have whatever you wish.

God, I am in trouble, been given custard creams by this man.

Right let’s get to the point, he said turning to face her. We have a problem; there is a leak and I might say a very large leak in the service. You have done great things in East Berlin, but one or two of your reports have gone missing. Can you type them up if I give you the numbers?

No problem, sir, as I have a photographic memory.

Well, that is a blessing, he handed Cathy a piece of paper with five numbers on it.

I thought you said one or two, not five, sir.

I did but can you type them up word-for-word from your memory?

Yes, sir, no problem but what happened to the originals?

That, Miss Drew is for me to know and deal with once I have the retyped reports. Sit at that desk. There is plenty of paper and I will get some more tea and biscuits sent in for you. How long do you think it will take you to do all five today?

Well, it’s 12:30. I should have them done by let’s say 21:30/22:00.

Good, good. I will book us a late dinner at my club.

So, it was. She sat for nine and a half hours pounding away on a typewriter but she got all five done. As she finished a page, he would take it and read it, muttering under his breath, the only words she picked up were clever bastards, and devious sods. Think you can dupe me, do you?

Right, if you are finished, Miss Drew, we shall go for that dinner I promised and I will tell you what I can as to why you have been brought back so quickly and what is going on.

Can I freshen up at your club as I look a mess and a girl needs to look her best when she is dinning with her boss at his club?

Would you care for a drink, Miss Drew?

Yes, please. A larger would be nice.

You do surprise me.

Well, it’s been thirsty work, all that typing.

Then, a lager you shall have.

At the club, the director gave what Cathy could only call a scant overview of what was going on and that he, the Director, was the target of misinformation and lies; the people who were trying to oust him were close to her and may try to use her to retire him. Cathy pushed him on who the back stabbers were, but all he would say was that she knew them and should watch her back as they would move her round and have people watching her. There it was, a light had just flashed in her head and she knew who they were, they were always asking her questions about her meetings and who she had been talking to.

Cathy asked the director if they were the ones who had put the Americans on to her that day in the park. Well, he said, yes, it would have been very convenient for them to have our friends lift you and spirit you of to some place to be questioned and never to be seen again, but I don’t think they factored in your friend who would have torn the place apart to find you.

You mean Dan? Don’t you?

Yes, my dear. That young man is one very persistent individual and I would not like to cross him where you are concerned, but he’s all oil and spanners. He would not know where to start. Don’t be too sure about that, Miss Drew. A dessert I can recommend the spotted dick and custard. It’s the one thing they excel at here, Cathy was looking at her boss. He knew more about her or Dan than he was ever going to tell her. She had a lot to think about and it would trouble her till the next time Dan and she meet.

After dinner and a few more drinks, plus, small talk, the director got up and said, Well, Miss Drew. This has been a lovely evening but all good things must come to an end. You have been booked into the Carlton Hotel. I take it you know it?

Yes, I do thank you for a lovely meal and evening.

I have a car waiting outside. Would you care for a lift to your hotel?

No, thank you. I have a lot to think about and the walk will do me good and clear my head.

Well, he said, enjoy your short stay in London, and he stepped in to his car. His driver asked, Home or back to the office, sir?

I think home tonight, thank you.

Usual time in the morning, sir, 6:30?

No, no, make it 5:30. I have a lot of work to get through.

Very good, sir. He looked at his boss he had in all the years; he had driven him, never knew him to ask to be collected at that time in the morning. Someone was in for a bad time a very bad time, indeed. A lot of people lay awake that night wondering about their futures and what the new day would bring.

The director sat in his living room in his big old chair with a very large whisky by his side thinking over his plan to trap and dispose of the two traitors. Checkmate was just one move away to having them and then he would turn the screw and will enjoy watching them lie, cheat and give up the other conspirators who were in involved in this spider’s web. What was that old saying? Ah, yes, what a tangled web we weave for those we wish to deceive and I can weave a very tangled web, indeed.

Also, that night, Cathy lay wide awake. She would have to see him just one more time before she left; she knew where he was working and that the director knew about him. But that man knows everything. Yes, she would go and see Dan but at a distance he would know she had been there. Others lay in their beds worrying about why the director had brought Cathy Drew back to London. There had been phone calls about it; why had she been in his office for almost ten hours with only tea and biscuits been asked for? Then taking her to dinner at his club? He never took any one to his club. What was the old man playing at?

The next morning, Cathy sat having breakfast and doing some people Watching; this was her pass time when on her own. All she could see were young women done up too much on the arm of a much older man—trophy wives and didn’t they know and regret it. But how was she going to see Dan? She would ask a taxi driver; they know everyone and everything. But what to wear? Cathy knew her limitations; she was too tall and good looking just to walk up a street without turning heads. She returned to her room to see what she had that could be used as disguise. Well, a baggy top and bottoms with a bobble hat and dark glasses. She looked in the full-length mirror; well, not perfect but it would have to do. The taxi driver knew where to take her as soon as she had said Blogs Garage and also there was a coffee shop right across the street where the tea and bacon rolls were to be recommended. The taxi driver was a friend of Bill’s and phoned him when he had dropped Cathy off. She could be a cop or one of Basil’s people, but Bill knew exactly who she was; he would keep an eye on Dan.

She sat for about fifteen minutes when she saw him come out of the main garage door to stand in the sun and have a stretch. He stood for a few seconds looking round and then made to cross the street. I’m trapped, she thought, but a man in overalls came and took him inside. Time for me to go, she said to herself but he looks fit; maybe a bit thin but happy. Bill had been standing not too far from the door and had seen Dan go out, then saw him make to cross the street. So, he called him back just in time. So, it was true what Dan had told him; there was a connection between them that is something very rare kick one the other feels it; lucky young bugger, wait till I tell her all about it but back to work there are other things to worry about. The next few days Cathy put her affairs in order before she went back to the Foreign Office and lord alone knew where they were going to pack her off to, she did not have to wait very long.

Cathy found summoned to the office of Miss Jemma Carter. She knocked twice. Come in, said the familiar voice. Cathy entered. Come in and sit down. Right, Cathy, what is it? She knew she was the one who had summoned her, Jemma was like a cat playing with a mouse.

I’ll come straight to the point. Am I been side-lined, Jemma? I have done the jobs given to me without argument, I’m being wasted and you know it.

Ok, Cathy. You are being side-lined, but no one is as good as you. You could tell the Russians that they were Americans and they would believe you.

So, I’m good?

No. You’re not good, Cathy. You are too bloody good. That’s what’s wrong, my dear, Cathy. You are to pack your bags and go to Lyon in France. There you will be deputy head of the consulate.

Jemma, come on. They think I’m a double agent.

I don’t bloody think so. It’s an insult. Sorry, Cathy, but that comes from the top. One thing before you go why is your boyfriend packing up in Rule? He’s more or less given everything away and is going to be coming your way in the not-too-distant future.

Who are you speaking about?

Come on, Cathy. You know Daniel Chambers?

What? Dan? He knows nothing of what I do or have done.

Are you sure about that?

Sure. I’m sure. You leave him alone; he’s innocent.

Mmm… I wonder. Now, your desk and flat have been cleared for you in East Berlin, all your belongings will be waiting in Lyon for you.

I was moved to Lyon just like that, the reason being they thought I was a double agent. Well, more fool them; their loss, not mine. But as for the here and now, I was not wanted here, they would not even let me clear my desk and hand over to the next person and that would be Clive Drummer. He was of the old school, Oxford University and well-connected through daddy. If anyone was the leak, he was. Well, they would learn the hard way. Clive would put the blame on me for the breakdown in the trust and the lack of information coming into the department. I raged all the way to the airport in my head I never knew I could swear without repeating myself. At the airport, I was rushed through and politely but firmly put in first class with a drink. Bastards had moved me on so quick that I did not have time to think, not even time to put up a defence for myself; no tribunal, nothing. Someone had put a lot of pressure on the department to get me gone and quick. Clive, I’ll put my last penny on it.

I arrived in Lyon airport again to be rushed through a nice car sitting outside, waiting on me. A rather sporty Merc. I put my case in the back together with my small wooden box and opened the envelope marked Miss C Drew. This gave me an address in Lyon and the name of who I was to bunk up with. At the bottom of the note was Jemma Carter, head. SNAKE BITCH. I was to stay with a Monica Jessop; snake bitch junior. When I arrived at the address, there she was waiting for me, all smile and waves. Did you stop and have something to eat? she asked. I felt like slapping her. She made it so obvious that she was to watch me and report back. I’m Monica Jessop. I’ll take you up to the flat and you can freshen up. Then we’ll go and get something to eat.

Over the months, I fell in to a routine of office, home, Monica and her quizzes of who I spoke to and where had I been. So, I sat her down one weekend and had it out with her. "Ok,