"Yes I called her, and yes, she's coming over. God, how do I let myself get into these situations?" Nigel was slumped on a lounge on the back deck pouting under Victoria's insistent questioning.

"You're not in any situation yet. It's just an old friend wanting to visit."

"Well if you believe that, dear aunt, I've got a play I'd like you to produce."

"Very clever, Nigel. Very droll." The sunglasses went back on as the sun crept slowly from the passing rain clouds. "Will she be here for lunch?"

"Just mine."

"Oh Nigel, stop it. It was a simple crush. Susan's still engaged to Victor." She paused, thinking about that situation. It must be going on four years now; she wondered what the delay might be, and if that is what prompted Susan's overzealous behaviour.

"Like that seemed to mean a lot." He pointed out.

"As though."

"Beg pardon?"

"Not, like, Nigel. As though. I do wish you'd speak with a little more culture." She stood and walked into the house, singing a few bars from My Fair Lady.

Nigel rolled his eyes to the heavens.

They were finishing their sandwiches and starting their coffee when the thud of the doorknocker rang down the hallway. "The enemy's at the gates", he sneered, waving his aunt up with a shake of his head. "I'm not getting it."

Victoria snorted and went down the hall to the door. Nigel followed as far as the atrium and sat down at the table. "Susan, hello, and what a nice surprise. You've brought friends." She said a little louder for Nigel's benefit.

He pulled a face and turned in his chair, preparing to rise.

"Eeeeeew! Nigel!" Susan dashed past Victoria and flung her arms about his neck, shoving him back on the chair with her awkwardly on his lap. As forcefully and gently possible, he eased her up, standing, and keeping her at arm's length.

"So nice to see you again too, Susan."

"Eeeeeew!" You didn't lose your accent in the big city."

"No, I didn't," he said, tossing an imploring glance at Victoria.

"Are you going to introduce your friend, Susan?" Victoria accepted his visual plea with sympathy.

"Oh, yes. This is Nigel Stainway, our famous playwright. Nigel, meet Patty McCorkidale, you know Tiffany of course."

"Patty, my pleasure. Hello Tif—" Nigel was engulfed in a crushing embrace, Tiffany's heroic bosom squashing against him like twin dirigibles.

"Nige, dear, it's been such a long time." She smacked a kiss on his cheek and stepped back, adjusting her clothes.

"Well it's only—"

"C'mon and sit on the deck." Victoria herded them through the atrium, patting Nigel's arm and winking. "I'll bring some lemonade."

A large crow soared down into the yard, flapping to a halt on the bird feeder with a menacing glare at the tiny hole. It hopped about, jamming its large beak into the opening, then flew off screeching, no doubt, ornithological profanities.

Nigel brought his attention back to the pert young woman seated across from him, only partially listening as Susan prattled on. She smiled politely, spreading her attractive lips and exposing the tips of even, white teeth. Her hair was dark and cut short, with occasional wisps cavorting about her tiny ears. His eyes dipped down to her fingers, spotting the wedding band, and he sighed inwardly, sitting up and tuning back in to Susan.

"...could probably be an immense help in the scripting of the ceremony." She swung her head toward Nigel. "What do you say?"

"Uhhm, what, uhmm... sorry, missed that last bit." He felt Patty's eyes on his face and held his gaze rigidly at Susan.

"Will you help us? Please Nigel, say yes, please." She waved her hand to encourage the others to join in.

"Help you...?"

"With the anniversary, Nige dear, the Silver Jubilee. Will you do a script for us for the evening's ceremonies?" Tiffany wriggled to a new position of comfort on the iron chair Victoria had brought from the atrium.

"A script! Ohh I- I- don't- can't..."

"He'll certainly give it some thought, ladies. Nigel's been at loose ends for a while and this might just be the ticket." Victoria's look dared him to protest. Therefore, he didn't.

"We're planning on a small cortège of special guests—you know, like opening night sort of." Susan reached a hand across to Nigel's knee. "Of course, that would include you, Nigel." His head began a slow, throbbing ache. "Oh wow!" She suddenly squealed, sitting back. "You should be in it too, Victoria, after all, you're one of the stars from the early years."

Victoria faltered at the category before resuming her composure, and adopting a modest air. "How kind of you to offer, Susan."

"She's right, Vicky, you're one of our landmarks." Tiffany stated bluntly—tact a noticeably missing ingredient in her intended praise.

A polite smile.

A departing bout of kisses, bordering on salacious, and a warm, lingering handshake from Patty, saw Nigel waving weakly from the lounge as the trio left, giggling with excitement. Victoria returned from the hall and stood with arms crossed and a twinkle in her eye.

"You know the old saying, Nigel, a bird in the hand... it's English I believe."

He took in her smug expression with a wary disgust. "No way, Victoria. Forget it. There's no way."

"There's always a way, when there's a Willie." She let out a whoop and began gathering the dirty glasses.

*****

"He seemed a little reluctant." Patty spoke tentatively to her companions from the rear seat, as Susan sped out of the driveway.

"Susan'll bring him around, woncha Suz." Tiffany gave her a meaningful nudge.

"Well I'll certainly do my best." She blushed and swung the wheel into a hard left turn.

"I get the feeling you and Nigel had something going." Patty asked innocently.

"Hah! And going and going—like the Eveready rabbit." Tiffany guffawed.

"Oh!" She sat back in her seat, catching an embarrassed stare from Susan in the rearview mirror.

"Listen hon, be a dear and drop me off at the store would you. I want to see if Allen has made up his mind yet." Another glance at Patty, and Susan changed direction, heading over to the main drag.

"Here we are." Susan pulled to the curb. "Listen, whether Allen's in or out," she blushed again at Tiffany's grin, "we should get together and discuss exactly what we want to do. I don't want to go to Nigel at half-mast." The remark hung like a balloon full of water. "I mean, you know," she hurried on, "without some firm kind of plan... in place."

Amused silence.

"Set it up and give me call. Real nice to meet you Pat, see you soon." Tiffany climbed out of the car and they watched her strut to the store, primping her hair and tugging at the back of her short skirt.

"I would say that Tiffany is a woman who really knows herself."

"Yes, she and a lot of others." Susan said wryly, pulling the car out into traffic.

Peter opened the door and waved to Susan as she pulled out of the drive. Patty hopped up the steps and accepted a passing kiss. "So how did it go?"

"Fine, I think. We met this Nigel fellow at his aunt's place. She's a dear."

"Who's Nigel?"

"The English playwright. You told me about him from the meeting."

"Oh right, right. Yeah, okay. So what's he like?"

"He seems very nice, but I don't think he was thrilled with us asking him to help." She walked through to the kitchen and stood looking at the refrigerator contents. "I think Susan and he had something going last time he was here."

"Really? I thought she was engaged to the restaurant guy. What are you looking for?"

"She is. Something for dinner. What do you feel like?" She poked at a few containers and frowned.

"Maybe that's why he doesn't seem keen."

"Maybe." She pushed the door shut and turned around, giving the kitchen a depressing look. "Could we go out for dinner? Do you mind?"

"Sure, no, yeah, we can go out. Let me get changed."

"No rush." Peter left the kitchen and jogged up the stairs. Her thoughts drifted to Tiffany, and she wondered what it would be like to be so centred, to have so much self-confidence... and wasn't that Nigel a nice man.