Time for the tough to get going
By Amrita Dhingra

THE boss and Amanda were nowhere to be seen when you got back to your room. You espied a note propped up on the table. See you tomorrow. That’s all it said. Throwing it down you took yourself back to bed and lay awake for a while. The coming day seemed to hold much in the way of promise and you wondered just how you were going to get the better of Alan Stokes and co. As far as you were concerned the only place Stokes ought to inhabit was a distant island which only had a prison to pass for civilisation. Or maybe they could invent a sort of space capsule and shoot him into orbit so that he could spend the rest of his days as a satellite to Pluto. And with this pleasant though in mind you fell asleep.

You woke up in your own good time and after a leisurely shower and shave made your way down to the breakfast table. Fiona’s house seemed to be overtaken by an army of efficient helpers. They were everywhere. Shifting furniture, arranging things in the marquee on the lawns. They reminded you of ants on a picnic and feeling rather in the way than anything else, you hurried through your repast. Then not having much to do you decided to take a walk outside.

Some of Fiona’s houseguests had already arrived and more cars were pulling up. You were outside the drawing room now and two figures inside caught your attention. Amanda and Carrie. In deep conversation.Or at least Amanda was talking and Carrie was listening. Curious, you watched as Carrie’s eyes filled with tears and a couple trickled down in quick succession. Amanda handed her a box of tissues and put an arm around her consolingly. Well, well, well, you thought to yourself, what have here? A heart to heart chat?

Moving on you ran into Jameson who looked rather harried. It is a secret between the two of you but he finds these parties of Fiona’s rather a trial. Nevertheless being the strong silent type who learn early that "yes, dear" is the best response to the better-half’s whims, he does buckle down and do his bit.

"Fi’s looking for you," he said, "You’II find her at the entrance."

"Right. I’m on my way."

You find Fiona at the entrance, looking lovely as usual and being as gracious as only she can be. "Where have you been?" she hissed, her smile never slipping out of place as she shook hands with and welcomed another couple.

"Around." You took your place next to her, "Who is that?"

"That." She said, "is the Dowager Duchess of Callimoo." You took in the opulent fuschia silk clad figure of the Duchess and Fiona continued, "She does the party circuit every year and writes about the parties in her magazine Callimo Calls. I was hoping that she would forget this year. She is a terror. Every hostess’s worst nightmare come true. Now I’II spend the rest of the day wondering with I got the canapes right and if the champagne is cold enough. Would you take care of her for me?"

So that was how you ended up spending a good part of the next hour. You fetched endless glasses of champagne for her, introduced her to the most important people and generally catered to every whim and fancy she cared to express. And at the end of the hour you were exhausted. "Young man....," she’d being in that high-pitched falsetto of hers so much at odds with her galleon-like appearance, and then inevitably would follow some or the other demand. She had in tow her niece who would have been perfectly all right had it not been for her buck teeth. Dancing with the aunt and the niece was not your idea of the ideal way to spend a morning.

Everybody else seemed to be having a good time. There was a quartet playing some wonderful music. The Boss and Amanda were there as was Tom spruced up in his suit and trying his best to get into Amanda’s good books. Carrie and C.E. Calloway were out and about too. Thankfully though you didn’t have to worry about Carrie right then you were too busy with the Duchess. Frank you knew was hanging around at the edge of the marquee near the hothouse waiting for a chance to talk to Carrie. In fact the only person missing right then was the villain of the piece Alan Stokes. And somehow you expected him to turn up sooner or later. It was afterall the day when all his plans were supposed to be put into action. You wondered whether Calloway had placed the orders for the shares to be sold.

Then as you went to the tables lined at one end of the marquee you noticed a movement in the nearby bushes. Ignoring it at first you mopped your brow, for it was one of those fine, sunny days, and proceeded to pour a glass of champagne into the flutes. "Ladies and gentlemen this is a holdup!!!" Suddenly the music stopped, the musicians had been rudely jostled from the stage by Alan Stokes who was holding a gun to Carrie Calloway’s head.

A murmur rippled through the gathering, one or two people even commented on how you could always expect the Jameson’s to come up with the right kind of entertainment time after time. Carrie was making token protests as required by the victim and no doubt she expected you, being her fiancee, to come to her rescue. C.E. Calloway had come to the front of the crowd and from there he bellowed at Stokes, "Now then Stokes what’s all this nonsense? Have you gone mad man?

"You back off right now Calloway. You made a hash of the transaction just what made you think you could get away with it."

"What utter rot! You must be mad man!! I gave the orders to sell this morning." A look of confusion clouded his already blotchy complexion.

"They wouldn’t happen to be the shares of my company, would they?" The Boss stepped up to Calloway, his voice quiet and authoritative. You always liked it when the Boss spoke like that. Knowing him well you knew of course that it was one of his many voices. He had several of them — meant to give junior executives a piece of his mind, meant to make you feel like a paragon of virtue. He had a full repertoire.

"Yes....no!!!"

You heard no more because just then a hand grabbed you from behind and yanked you by the collar. You staggered into a bed of tea roses.

"Got you!"

You found yourself staring into the smug satisfaction of Constable Dunstable’s face.

"Constable!"

"Got you!" he repeated. He was, you could see, sweating and his breath came in pants.

"Been looking for you I have! Gone around half the countryside! Got chased by that damn dog of yours! But I’ve got you!!!

"Yes," you said resigning yourself to your fate and cursing yourself for talking the constable so lightly, "you’ve got me."

"Now march," he did not relinquish his hold of your collar even for a second.

"I say Constable. The real criminal is there. Me, I’m small fry. We’ve got a fraud and a cheat in there...."

"None of your cheek now mind you! You lost me my promotion once I’m not going to loose it again!"

"I think you’II be promoted to the rank of .........." you were going to say Superintendent, when you realised that the good constable was no longer with you. He was lying in a collapsed heap just behind you. You sprang around and came face to face with Amanda who was just lowering a Champagne bottle.

"You didn’t!" you said in an awestruck, horror-stricken tone.

"I did."

You were going to say that this was a habit she would have to cure herself off. You just couldn’t get away with beaning officer’s of the law left, right and centre as and when the fancy chose you.

"Don’t be a ninny. We’ve got work to do. Help me drag him into the shade. He’II be comfortable enough. A half-an-hour nap never did anyone any harm." You helped her settle the constable under the shade of nearby tree.

"Now," she said, "let’s take care off Stokes. Because Carrie may be a bimbo but she doesn’t deserve to come to any harm. Stokes’ is off his rocker. There’s no telling what he’II get to. We must do something."

And surprise, surprise Amanda had a plan. She outlined it swiftly, precisely incisively.

"You don’t expect me to do that!"

"I thought you were loyal to Daddy," she said with perfect timing.

Two minutes later you were standing at the edge of the marquee, "Strokes!" you yelled. "Look what I’ve got here. A file containing all your reports and proof of what you’ve been upto. Get ready to walk. You’re going to spend a lot of time in jail once I get this to the authorities."

"You! You! I’Il get you!" Mad fury made its presence felt in his countenance. Amanda was right, he was very close to the edge. Your words served as a red rag to a mad bull. Carrie forgotten, he took off after you, taking aim at you and firing a round from his pistol. Which round incidentally, whizzed past the Duchess of Callimoo who promptly fainted in a riot of fuschia colour.

Still right at that moment you were least bothered about anything but your own skin. To say that you ran for your life would be no more than stating the truth. Stokes had missed once but there was no guarantee that he’d miss again. Apparently the very same idea suggested itself to Stokes who also ran full-speed behind you, taking pot-shots at you now and then. Zig-zagging your way through the trees with Stokes in hot pursuits you searched frantically for a place to hide because your thirty minutes three days a week notwithstanding you were not in very good shape where long distance running was concerned.

It was no wonder that the sight of the Conservatory came as a sight for sore eyes. Putting in all that you had you legged the last few yards towards it. Stokes fired again and this time the bullet whizzed past your right ear and shattered a section of glass in the conservatory. Cursing fluently you zipped in. Once in however, you realised the folly of your act. You had effectively managed to trap yourself in with Stokes fast approaching the door. He had already fired a few shots but had he finished all six. Because if he hadn’t, then heaven help you, the remaining shot would definitely finish you.

Stokes had a maniac grin on his face as he came in through the door. Much to your relief you saw that he had thrown away the pistol. He lunged for you the intention being, you supposed, to throttle you with his bare hands. Which was fine with you. You may not have been able to do much to him when he was in possession of a gun but on your day you could take on any man when it came to fisticuffs.

Or so you thought. Stokes’ first blow landed right on your nose, took the breath out of you and very nearly broke your nose. Stunned, you reeled for a second but got back on your feet and mercifully were ready for the second and could block it. It was all in all an evenly matched fight. Stokes’ mania giving him the strength of ten men and you had always wanted to be alone in a dark alley with Stokes. Fiona’s conservatory was far to beautiful a setting to be compared to an alley, and the two of you rolling, wrestling on the floor did nothing to add to its grace by breaking several pots, but it would do. You fought with all the vented anger of two opponents in a duel.

The status quo would have lasted for sometime to come had you not landed that swift upper right on his nose. Stokes simply sat down heavily. Gasping for breath you realised that several others had made their way to the conservatory. Frank being the last to rush up. As he surveyed the mess, his face fell and you could tell that he had begun to take his job as the gardener rather seriously.

"What the heck," he took another potted plant, shrugged at his audience and broke it on Stokes’ head, thereby sending him for a period to the land of Nod.

"My hero!" squealed Carrie and rushed up. You grimaced inwardly. But then were forced to look again as she flung herself at Frank.

"Well done my boy. Well done!!" the Boss came upto you and shook your hand. As did several other people with of course the notable exception of Amanda who was busy explaining to constable Dunstable the full list of Stokes’ crimes. The Constable was looking pleased as punch and seemed to have forgotten all about you.

Everyone was abuzz with excitement and suddenly you no longer wanted to be there. The party was over and all you wanted was a bit of peace and quiet. You slipped out quietly but as you passed Amanda you couldn’t help taking the bottle of champagne she was still holding from her. It would be wasted anyway and you could think of a few good ways to use it.