Timothy Simmons pedalled energetically around the cul-de-sac. From the canvass pack strung over his shoulder, he withdrew rolled newspapers and hurled them with unerring aim into the hedges, plant pots, driveways, and flower gardens of the houses on the Pathway. He knew that when he came to collect he would hear it from several of the customers, but it was dark, he would say, and accept the reprimands and his money with an apologetic smile, caring not one whit for their complaints.

Ivan selected the business section and handed the rest of the paper to his wife, sitting back down at the table and resuming his breakfast cereal.

"Well, today is the big day, eh dear?"

"Mmmm, Susan certainly thinks so. She called early this morning to say she was sorry we didn't make it to the meeting last night, and went over our schedule... again."

"Conscientious that's all."

Gertrude leafed through the pages, skimming the headlines. "We're seated with the group from the town, at the theatre. Milo and Victoria... Arthur..." She listened for his reaction.

"Sounds bully, dear." Ivan focused on the crease in his paper, wondering how he might avoid the actual theatre ceremony. She recognized the contrived response and began calculating how she might accommodate his hidden wish.

"I think I'll go into to town and have my hair done for tonight. Wouldn't want to look all scruffy for such an occasion." She smiled, sensing the excitement in his eager agreement. "Would you mind if I took the car, instead of a cab? You could meet me at Antonio's."

"Ivan set his face and lowered the paper. "Well, it'll leave me stranded here, but no, of course not. Take the car, then you can be as long as you like. I might just... do some work in the shed."

I'll bet you just might, Gertrude clucked silently, wondering what he would do if she ever asked to see what he had accomplished there.

*****

Cal finished his fifty sit-ups and grabbed his towel, wiping his face and chest and wrapping it around his waist as he went out to retrieve his paper from the front lawn. He glanced across at Milo's car, still sitting in the drive and not in the garage, as was the normal rule. When Melaine sneaked home expecting to find Milo waiting, and primed for an argument, it was after midnight, but the house had been empty, leaving her less relieved than annoyed.

Cal went back to his kitchen and began breakfast. They had spent most of their evening dissecting the scandal that was Gavin, and he hoped for a better outcome after the parade, although he expected he would learn all about Milo's nocturnal behaviour from Melaine first.

******

The argument fizzled rather quickly, as neither party could provide much fuel for a dominating position. Both had tinted their stories to cast blame on the other, and now sat in stony silence, nibbling unenthusiastically at their breakfasts, hiding behind sections of the morning paper. At last, Melaine left the table, leaving the paper on the chair and taking her dishes to the sink.

"I'll need the car today, I've got a lot of things to do for tonight, so you can call a cab." She said testily.

Milo snapped his paper defiantly. "As long as I get it back in time to get home from work and get changed."

"Don't worry Milo, I wouldn't dream of delaying your grand performance in the parade." She wiped her hands on a towel and strode from the room. "I'll leave it in your parking lot in plenty of time." He gave an audible grunt and snapped the paper again.

*****

Patty sat at her kitchen table, the coffee growing cold in her mug. Try as she might, she couldn't recall all the events of the previous evening, other than the exquisite experience in the bathtub. The other fragment of memory she couldn't reconcile, was Felicity's presence. Before dashing out in a fit of pique, Peter had mumbled something about her coming over to borrow paint thinner. His anger had surprised her. Yes, she had done something quite foreign to her personality, but it was almost as though he was blaming her for his guilt.

She absently sipped her coffee, pulling a disgusted face and pouring the rest into the sink before traipsing off to the bedroom with a shake of her head. Shedding her nightgown, she stepped into the shower and set the taps to a comfortable temperature. The warm water coursing down her body immediately stirred an image of Galleria—or was it Gavin—wiping a wet cloth across her breasts. She stood stock still, gaping at the steamy glass doors. Of course it was Gavin. Gavin is Galleria!

The revelation was suddenly as titillating as it was disturbing, and she realized that it was not a problem she could readily solve alone. When she finished showering, Patty made straight for the phone and called the one person she knew would help—Tiffany.

*****

Tiffany lay on her chaise lounge under the corner window in her bedroom, trapping the phone beneath her chin while she wrestled with a roller that had snagged in her hair.

"Tell me it's not true, darling!" She gasped incredulously. The voice on the other end protested legitimacy with an urgent apprehension. "Forgive me, darling," Tiffany said, finally tearing the offending roller free and flinging it onto her bed, "this is just too, too juicy. I want details."

"Ti, I'm just so... confused... I don't know what to do."

"Where is he now?"

"We had a short row, and he left in a fit for work."

Tiffany tugged at her robe and wriggled down in the pillows. "So what about Gavin?"

"I don't really remember. I was awfully... drunk," Patty fell silent, trying to sort her jumbled thoughts.

"Come now darling, you must remember something!"

"Well... I know I was in the bathtub—and he was the only one in the room with me..."

"Go on!" Tiffany's eyes widened, and she ran a hand over her thigh.

"He- he- I felt him bathing me, with a cloth... all over."

"You naughty girl," Tiffany giggled. "So what happened with Felicity?"

"I don't know. Peter said this morning that she had just come over to borrow some Varsol. She said she'd run out and needed it for her brushes... or something. Apparently, she and Gavin left together. I don't know how that worked out. And I don't know when Susan and Nigel left."

"Listen darling, I'm going to finish up here, then I'm going to come over and we can sort this out, face to face. Our lovely Galleria seems to have some prospects as yet unexplored."