Chapter 14

In which Timmy attempts to achieve a happy ending with Gretchen.

We tell Rosie that Sid has been run over by a truck. Frankly, when we see him at the Bolingbroke Hospital it is difficult to tell the difference.

'I never want to go through anything like that again,' he says when Rosie nips out to change his library book. 'She was like a wild animal. I thought she was going to kill me.'

'She was responding to your animal magnetism,' I say. 'It just shows how careful you've got to be. Your power over women is a twoedged sword.'

'My sword doesn't have any edges on it at the moment,' groans Sid. 'Rosie keeps dropping little hints about how nice it's going to be when I get home but I don't think I'm going to be up to it.'

'You will in a few days,' I comfort him. 'Keep sipping the broth and you'll be up to it like a swallow to its nest.'

In many ways, Sid's little accident is a good thing because it stops Rosie asking where he has been for three weeks. Also he needs the rest, poor old sod. I ask Sister Duff how he is making out and she says that apart from the time when Teddy Savalas came up on the telly and he dived out of bed, he is making good progress.

I leave Sid, having eaten all his grapes-well, he was having difficulty finding the strength to spit out the pips and make contact with Gretchen. To my relief, she is dead chuffed to hear from me and quite impressed when I tell her that I had to go abroad on a case. Best of all, she says that the bird she shares a room with has gone back to Exeter for the weekend and that she is all on her tod-nudge, nudge, wink, wink. What could be better? If I can't crack 'The Case Of The Padlocked Fanny' now, then I never will. Especially as I have a plan.

It came to me when I found the remains of my Survival Kit in one of my pockets. I had eaten all the Ovaltine Tablets-and one of the Elastoplasts-but the tube of Xylocaine Gel was as intact as Gretchen's fun feature. It occurs to me that this gel stuff is in fact a local anaesthetic and that if we apply it to the affectionate area then percy can make a grand entrance without causing any discomfort. Good thinking, eh? You can see how my time in the Secret Service has paid dividends. At last I will be a C Man who has come into his own.

Of course I don't go straight round to Gretchen's place and start unscrewing my tube. I am too sophisticated for that. I know that a woman has to be brought to the boil gently. If you turn the heat up too high too fast, you spoil them. So what do I do? I pamper her, don't I? Buy her a swift half, then round to Monty's Whelk Stall for a plate of peeled prawns-pity it comes on to rain, but you can't have everything-then back to her place. That way she has been treated like Royalty and is prepared to do anything for you. It may cost a few bob but, believe me, it's worth it in the long run. When we go up the stairs to her flat I really feel that this is going to be my lucky evening-it needs to be because I haven't been home yet and I know the kind of reception that Dad is going to give me. I have kept the gel in my trouser pocket so that it is nice and warm-considerate again, you see? I hate to keep drawing attention to it but you have to learn these things-and by the time I get the top off it is practically liquid. The minute we get inside the flat, Gretchen starts peeling off her threads and it is obvious that the briefing I gave her during our meal at Monty's has worked her up to fever pitch.

'Oh! I want so much, so much!' she moans, rubbing her hands across her belly. She lies back naked on the bed and turns her beautiful soft, brown eyes on me and-cor!!

I am almost crying with frustration as I sit on the bed and wrench my knickers off. At last, I am ready and, though I say it myself, I have never seen percy in better condition. If the Spaniards nicked the Rock of Gibraltar I could produce a superior substitute immediately. I grab the gel and after a few kisses which practically rearrange our features, I start preparing the ground-or the mound, more like. Gretchen is not slow to lend assistance and in no time we have used most of the tube.

'Do you feel anything?' I say.

'I don't know,' says Gretchen. 'Let us try.'

Here we go. The moment of truth. I am sweating as I rise to my knees and station myself between Gretchen's shapely thighs. I position percy at the portal and look into Gretchen's eyes. She bites her hp and nods. I breathe in and drive percy forward. There is the customary resistance and then-Gretchen has closed her eyes but they suddenly open and a smile spreads across her face like the sun coming up. Her hands which have been tightly squeezing my arms release their grip.

'Oh yes!' she breathes. 'Yes!'

I try and smile but a horrible fear has seized me. I can't feel anything. The bloody Xylocaine Gel is working on me! Gretchen's face clouds over and together we look down towards my crutch. Totally desensitised, percy wilts and droops like a snowdrop pinched by an early frost. I think I might burst into tears. It hardly seems fair, does it? After all I have been through as a private dick, I have arrived at a dead end.