'This is my town too, Cindy.'
'Leave now or the Next family crypt will be up for a dusting.'
'I won't do that.'
'Then,' replied Cindy with a sigh, 'we've got nothing else to discuss. I'll see you later — although I doubt you'll see me.'
The line went dead and I gently replaced the receiver. I felt sick. The wife of a good friend would die today and it didn't feel good.
'What's the matter?' said a voice close at hand. 'You seem upset.'
It was Mrs Tiggy-Winkle.
'No,' I replied, 'everything's just as it should be. Thanks for dropping round; I've found us a William Shakespeare. He's not the original, but close enough for our purposes. He's in this cupboard.'
I opened the cupboard door and a very startled Shgakespeafe looked up from where he had been scribbling by the light of a candle end he had stuck upon his head. The wax had begun to run down his face, but he didn't seem to mind.
'Mr Shgakespeafe, this is the hedgehog I was telling you about.'
He shut his notebook and stared at Mrs Tiggy-Winkle. He wasn't the slightest bit afraid or surprised - after the abominations he'd dodged on an almost daily basis in Area 21, I suspect a six-foot-tall hedgehog was something of a relief. Mrs Tiggy-Winkle curtsyed gracefully.
'Delighted to make your acquaintance, Mr Shgakespeafe,' she said politely. 'Will you come with me, please?'
'Who was that?' Landen called out as he walked downstairs a little later.
'It was Mrs Tiggy-Winkle picking up a William Shakespeare clone in order to save Hamlet from permanent destruction.'
'You can't ever be serious, can you?' He laughed as he gave me a hug. I had smuggled Shgakespeafe into the house without Landen seeing. I know you're meant to be honest and truthful to your spouse but I thought there might be a limit, and if there was I didn't want to reach it too soon.
Friday came down to breakfast ten minutes later. He looked tousled, sleepy and a bit grumpy.
'Quis nostrud laboris,' he moaned. 'Nisi ut aliquip ex consequat.'
I gave him some toast and rummaged in the cupboard under the stairs for my bullet-proof vest. All my stuff was now back at Landen's house as if I had never moved out. Sideslips are confusing, but you can get used to almost anything.
'Why are you wearing a bullet-proof vest?'
It was Landen. Drat. I should have put it on at the station.
'What bullet-proof vest?'
'The one you're trying to put on.'
'Oh, that one. No reason. Listen, if Friday gets hungry you can always give him a snack. He likes bananas — you may have to buy some more, and if a gorilla calls, it's only that Mrs Bradshaw I was telling you about.'
'Don't change the subject. How can you go to work wearing a vest for "no reason"?'
'It's a precaution.'
'Insurance is a precaution. A vest means you're taking unnecessary risks.'
'I'd be taking a bigger one without it.'
'What's going on, Thursday?'
I waved a hand vaguely in the air and tried to make light of it.
'Just an assassin. A small one. Barely worth thinking about.'