John tossed the duvet to the bottom of the bed, sat on the edge, and swore at his stupidity. I must admit I enjoyed the moment. I wanted to hurt them because of Angela. It made me feel good, but now I have an enemy who will lurk in the dark until he finds an opening. Next time I may not be so lucky.

He gasped as he slid the wardrobe door open. Everything was on hangers, shirts to the left, casual tops in the centre and suits to the right. He gazed around the room. It was clean and smelt better than it had for years. Hiring Gillian was the best thing I've done in years. The realisation of what was happening hit him between the eyes. Jackie, his wife, was being removed with soap and water.

He shrugged and went for a shower.

The telephone rang as he sipped his first coffee of the day.

"Morning, John, it's David. You did me a favour last night."

"Not something I often do. Remind me."

"You enabled me to get rid of Dobson. He was becoming a liability."

"I surprised myself. Was there anything else?"

"I have a van load of equipment arriving at the mausoleum at twelve. Can you be there and take charge of the storage? You know the site better than anyone."

"I'm a busy man. Will it be on time?"

"I'll guarantee it or have somebody skew the driver's balls."

"I'll be there, but no show means I'm out of there at ten past the hour."

"He won't be late."

***

The wind and rain battered John's red and white golfing umbrella as he strolled through the saturated grounds of the old cemetery. "When is this bloody rain going to stop?"

It was still raining steadily at midday when a bright yellow Ford Transit with red lightning streaks painted on both sides and sizeable shiny exhaust side pipes screeched to a halt. A young man, wearing a matching yellow suit and a hairstyle that resembled a haystack, leant out of the driver's window. "Are you John?"

John peered at him. "And you are?"

"Archie Adams, a friend of David Little. I've got a ton of stuff in the back for you."

"Not for me, sonny, for David Little. That's some fuck truck you have there. Use it much?"

"Fridays and Saturdays mostly. Half a dozen gin and tonics, and they can't wait to jump in this bus."

"Follow me, and don't hit a gravestone. It'll ruin your paintwork."

"Where's the rest of them?"

"Who's them?"

"The hired help to unload my van."

John smiled. "You're it."

"Are you having me on?"

"I'll show you where to put the gear. I'm management. I don't lift and shift anymore. Any complaints, talk to David."

Archie was stunned. "Delivery by noon, the man said. Fuck you. I've done that."

"You would say that, wouldn't you?"

"Get stuffed. Where's the nearest phone box?"

"Half a mile along this road, but I would think twice before you throw a spanner in the works. David has a short fuse and gets upset if the hired help doesn't perform as ordered."

There was silence until Archie said, "The bastard gave me fifty quid to deliver. He said nothing about unloading. It's not my bag, but I know what that fucker is like, and I like my face as it is. Lead on, John."

"Goes to prove life's a bitch."

John, followed by the van, made his way around the gravestones to the mausoleum entrance. He checked the padlocks before opening them both.

"Not so bad. Where do you want this lot dumped?"

John pointed. "You see the metal sheet on the floor?"

"Right there? Tell yer what, I'll reverse my wagon with both doors open up to this entrance. Your choice is whether you're inside or out."

"I'm sure you realised that nature does not differentiate between who or what you are as a child. I'll be inside if for no other reason it's dry."

Archie laughed. "Wise man. Now get out of my way."

Archie manoeuvred the truck until its rear doors were two inches from the entrance.

John chuckled as a concealed hatch opened. He watched in amazement as Archie crawled through.

John faced him. "Do you want the good news or bad news?"

"Give me the good news."

"There isn't any, but the bad news is," he pointed. "Everything has to disappear into the space beneath my feet. And there's more. You have to carry it further into a drain before you leave."

Archie stood erect with his hands on his waist. "And what are you going to do, old man?"

"Kick your arse if you say that again."

"Go fuck yourself, old man."

"I would like to go home today, and you're wasting time." John remained calm as he removed a packet of cigarettes from his trouser pocket. Leaning against the wall, he lit one and inhaled. He stared at the van's roof as rain battered the thin metal before draining to the ground.

"You're not going to help."

"Not my job, sonny."

"Don't call me sonny. That's what my dad used to shout seconds before he beat the shit out of me when he came home from the pub on a Friday night."

John rubbed his chin. "Why did he do that?"

"No idea. I think he enjoyed the power."

A deep voice came from outside. "Anyone in there?"

John froze as he recognised the voice. A few weeks ago, Councillor Winters presented him with a certificate of commendation. Now that petty bureaucrat was outside asking questions.

He motioned to Archie and mouthed, "Get rid of him."

Archie vanished back into the driver's seat and opened the window. "Hey, mister. What do you want? I'm working."

"I want to know why you're fly-tipping in a churchyard."

"I'm not. And anyway, who the hell are you?"

"Councillor Winters, that's who."

"Never heard of you, but I hope you know you're on private property. My boss could have you for trespass and damage."

Winter's face reddened, and his eyes bulged. "I'll have you know this land belongs to the Catholic Church."

Archie chuckled. "Look, mate, as far as I know, my boss is authorised by some high and mighty vicar to conduct a ground survey before we start building houses for the locals."

Winters appeared confused. "You cannot start any work without planning permission."

Archie shrugged. "He doesn't need to ask the council. There's a lot of lifting and shifting of dead bodies to be considered before the dozers come in."

Rain ran off Winter's black umbrella. When he spoke again, the tone of his voice changed. "This appears in order, but I'll check with the planning people. I'll leave you to your work. Any idea when the surveying will begin?"

"Look, mate. I'm the delivery man. The company CEO doesn't consult with the likes of me. I'd check with the church people if I were you."

Winters sighed. "I'd be quicker receiving an answer from God."

"Don't do religion. I prefer the pub on a Sunday morning."

"I'll let you get on. Sorry to have troubled you."

"No problem, Mr Winters. Take care walking in the rain. You could easily slip and break a leg." He watched as Winters made his way to the gated entrance before clambering back into the van's rear.

"Has he gone?" asked John.

"He's well on his way."

"How on earth did you contrive such a story? You even had me thinking it was true."

"I read a lot. Murder mystery mostly. Death in Beckton was the last one I read. Lots of details on excavating bodies."

John checked the time. "It's getting late." He shrugged. I suppose I'd better give you a hand. It'll save time, and I have better things to do than piss about here."

"Why the change of heart?"

"You dealt with that situation well. There was no way he could see me."

"What would you have done if he had?"

"Thank God, that's a question I don't have to answer."