Bring me my bow of burning gold
Bring me my arrows of desire
Bring me my spear - O clouds unfold
Bring me my chariot of fire
William Blake
CHAPTER 20 AT AUNTIE SUSAN'S
Another scorching London day with superheated air rising from ten thousand square miles of roofs and roads. Concrete and clay radiating heat into the evening streets, where cafés served pavement tables. Pubs had doors and windows wide.
“All right there Darling? Fancy a ride?”
The best form of defence was attack, so Irene Adler went to the oldest and biggest of the greying hard men lounging around their motorbikes under a newly planted shade tree and smiled “Hi.”
“Mmmm, hi.” He was awestruck.
“Do you know where I can find the Good Chicken Takeaway and the Hurry Up Curry House?”
“Oh, uh, yeah. Down there on the, uh, left. I mean right. Right.”
“Thanks.” She smiled. and walked on, smiling more as she heard one say. “God look at her arse.”
Of course it wasn’t her bum that fascinated. It was the 0.7 hip to waist ratio. The slope between waist and bottom. The extra female fat, so her thighs were soft and cuddly and safe, just like their Mums when they were toddlers. But that was a bit complex for the lads, so nice arse would do.
There were more shade trees, planted with government grants, down the pavements and on traffic islands in the centre of the road. Down there, on the right, behind a row of tropical jacaranda trees, were shops, built in the 1950’s or 60’s on a Second World War bomb site, with two floors of flats above. The planning authorities had decided it must be a row of takeaways. The Good Chicken was next door, not just to the Hurry Up Curry House, but also Grannies Genuine Ghanaian Goat Grab-away and the Super Deluxe Benin Palace Restaurant.
An alley at the side went to a yard full of expensive cars, the smell of cooking, and big wheelie bins. Irene went up outside concrete stairs to a roof top courtyard, with potted plants and a wooden garden shed resting on the warm asphalt. On either side were doors to the upper flats. Open windows let out sounds of Highlife and Rumba and the smell of even more cooking. She knocked at number four.
“Hallo My Lover? Can I help you?” She was a mature woman, but still youthful with bright red hair covering wrinkles on her forehead, seemingly casual flicks obscured the corner of her eyes.
“I’m Irene Adler.”
“Yes?”
“I’m sorry, I thought this is where Alex Holder lived.”
“Oh yes, course ‘tis. Alex did say he were expecting. But I thought it be someone older. He said t'were someone from Parliament. I’m his Auntie Sue. Tis my flat actually. Well, it’s the families really, in trust, you know, but I have the use of it, on account of my sister, and he stays here when he’s up in The Smoke. You’d best come in. Alex! Alex! There’s a young lady for you my lover.”
“What? Oh hallo. Your early, come on in.” Alex wasn’t nervous was he? He’d put on weight, but it looked like muscle, otherwise he was still rather gorgeous.
Auntie Sue watched them looking into each other’s smiles and said “So how’s about a cup of tea then? Kettles just boiled.”
“Oh yes please,” said Alex without taking his eyes off Irene. Her face. Her body. Her breasts as she moved. Her hair round her ears. Her cheeks moving when she talked. Her breasts were bigger than he remembered. Her lips were very….
“Hows about you then my dear?” asked Auntie Sue “And what’s your name anyhow?”
“I’m Irene and I’d love a cup.” She turned to smile at Aunt Sue “Milk with one sugar. Do you need any help?”
“Bless you, no dear, you go in and see his spaceship. He’s just like his Granddad with that thing. 'cept I ‘spect he might actually get it going.”
“Yes.” Agreed Irene.
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