High stakes and desperate men
By Amrita Dhingra

"GOOD morning sir", the voice was brisk, efficient and feminine. It broke through the mists of your slumber and bright sunshine, the direct result of her pulling away the curtains, alighted on your face.

"What...?!?" It must regretfully be reported that you were not your charming, suave self that morning and this was the best you could come up with.

"Mrs Jameson asked me to bring you a cup of tea, sir".

You prised open one eye and saw the maid pointing to the tea tray at your bedside and fell back against the pillows, exhausted already.

"She said she’ll be coming up to see you in a little while. In the mean time if you need anything sir just ring the bell". With a polite smile she shut the door behind her and left.

And though it was patently clear that she was an ordinary maid you couldn’t stop a cold shiver from running down your spine.

"Jeepers!" the exclamation escaped your lips. And not without reason too. As far as you were concerned you’d had enough of maids for one lifetime. Memory returned with consciousness and all that you’d been through in the past few days flashed by in your head. It was not all pleasant reminiscing and you winced as you remember how Amanda Spence had taken you for a ride to end all rides.

Drinking your tea in a sort of daze you made a mental inventory of your various injuries. A solid bump on the head that was making its presence felt by throbbing like the blazes, a couple of bruised ribs and a creditable assortment of bruises and grazes. "Ouch!" You turned over on your side and discovered a bruise you had failed to notice. At that same moment there came a peremptory knock on the door and turning the handle Fiona came in .

"Ah! there you are, feeling sorry for yourself no doubt", she paused to smile at you in her most superior elder sister manner.

"Oh shut up will you"! You took offence to her attitude of callous indifference and amusement.

"Touchy aren’t you?" She picked up your discarded jacket from the chair and sat down. "Amanda warned me about it", here again she paused to smile.

"Amanda! Amanda was here!" You sat up with a jerk, it did nothing for your various bruises, and you regretted it the instant you did it, "What the hell was that hell-cat doing here?"

"Like your choice of words — ‘What the hell was that hell cat doing here?’ She grinned at your exasperation, "Who did you think brought you here? An angel with gossamer wings? A stork, though it’s just a little too late for that, wouldn’t you say? Or a girl with a perfectly good heart and an Austin-Martin DB 7?"

"She brought me here?"

"Give the man a coconut!" Fiona was certainly enjoying herself now, "not only did she bring you here, she stayed long enough to ensure Doctor Vextor gave you a clean bill of health".

"That’s just to ensure she won’t be booked for murder!"

"There’s gratitude for you", again Fiona exhibited her irritating tendency to have fun at your expense. It was nothing new of course. It had been the bane of your childhood and you wondered why you hadn’t done anything about it before. Hadn’t you read that taking a firm stand was the best course of action?

"Fiona I wish you would mind your own business!" you said with the aim of taking a firm stand.

"All right", she said simply, still grinning unrepentantly. "By the way Carrie is out in the garden. She’s been asking after you every ten minutes. Worried sick about you I gather. I hadn’t told her you were awake, thought you might like some peace and quite, but I guess I send her right up now". With that parting shot your elder sister left the room, proving once again that as far as making your life miserable was concerned age had done nothing to rob her off her formidable skills.

Making a mental note to get back at her as soon as possible you climbed out of bed and locked your door securely. It may be awfully disloyal of you and the world may pass you off as a cad but the last person you wanted to see right then was Carrie Calloway. The thought of climbing back into bed was tempting but the thought of Amanda Spence having put one over you on such a grand scale was a thorn in your side and all thoughts of sleep fled with its appearance. With renewed determination you headed for a shower and a shave.

When you emerged a good half an hour later you had no illusions about the way you looked. Dr Vextor apparently belonged to that class of physicians who believed in taking no chances. In an attempt to over-ensure the healing of the bump on your head he had used copious amounts of bandage and sticking plaster. The result was that your face looked something like something an ancient Egyptian mummy wrapper had been practising on. You had tried to pull it of but the whole thing was too painful. You decided to go down to the doctor himself.

As you made your way downstairs, careful to check around corners for you didn’t want to run into Carrie, you were not exactly in the best frame of mind. Revenge was most certainly on your mind. Amanda Spence had better watch out!

You found Fiona in the library, just stepping out of the French windows and out into the garden.

"I say Fi, I need to borrow your car", you called after her.

"I hope you’re feeling up to driving", she said as you caught up with her, "because my driver just quit. Servants!"

For the next five minutes she proceeded to air her views on the lack of loyal retainers, on how the feudal spirit wasn’t really a spirit any longer and several other issues which were on her mind. The keys to her car were inside the house and after you had reassured her that bruised and battered as you were, you would be able to drive she promised to go in presently and fetch them. It was patently clear however, that she had no intention of going in before she had finished her diatribe on the staff that ran her mansion.

And though you knew had no hope of cutting her short, your experience with women, and particularly Fiona, putting you straight on the point that a woman will say what she has to say, you really did wish she would stop. Not that there was any chance of that happening, because Fiona in mid-season form could out-talk most people you knew. Nevertheless, you couldn’t help feeling a little hot under the collar because you were worried that any minute now, around the corners of the huge maze you were walking along would pop out Carrie. And the reason you needed Fiona’s car in the first place was that you were determined to put as much distance between yourself and the Calloway progeny as possible.

"...And you won’t believe this new gardener I’ve had to hire. Looks slightly mentally retarded. Insisted I allow his dog to live on the premises. Not that Imind really but still you wonder at what the world is coming to. Next there’ll be a maid who wants board and lodging for her pet elephant. Heaven help us!"

"Yes, quite." You had had ample practice to know when a pause from Fiona required a statement of agreement from you. For in reality you were worried stiff that your luck was going to run out and you’d come face to face with Carrie.

"You aren’t really listening, are you?" Fiona was quick enough to catch up with you. "I guess I’ll go and get those keys, stay around here will you? I have to have a word with that new gardener. He’s working on my prize roses in the centre of this maze".

"Right I’ll be hereabouts", you gave her your best eager-to-please grin.

"And if I were you I would listen more carefully to what other people are saying — or it’s bound to land you in hot water someday", with that parting prophecy she headed for the house.

You were now faced with the problem of what to do while you waited for her to come back. Danger in the imminent presence of Carrie loomed large and you were just wondering if it would safer inside the maze, when matters were taken out of your hands.

"Ah! Got you!!" There was a triumphant yell from across the shrubbery that constituted the outer perimeter of the maze and before you knew it you had a stout rope around your shoulders and you were jerked inwards.

"Got you this time you worm and I am not letting you go! the rope tightened around you like the coils of a determined and famished Anaconda and with a sinking feeling you recognised the voice of Frank Gulley. The man whose sole aim in life was to end yours.

"Frank," you tried to put on the calm, reasonable tone of voice which is supposed to go down well with terrorists, agitated canines and soon-to-be-assassins, "old man how are you doing?"

It pained you to realise that your attempt did not go down well with him.

"Gah!" he said as if to reassure you that he had lost none of his verbal skill when it came to expressing murderous rage. Then without much ado he proceeded to drag you, all the while from across the shrubbery, to the entrance of the maze before jerking you in.

"Hey Frank come off it, will you? I mean for god’s sake I told you I don’t want to marry Carrie!" You decided that a direct appeal was the best option under the present circumstances.

"Why? Been playing games with her have you? Just what I expect from a scoundrel like you! Just you wait you’ll get what’s coming to you!" And despite your putting up a spirited resistance he bound the rope around you, for his anger had lent him the strength of ten strong men, and marched you Indian-style through the winding corridors of the maze to the centre where Fiona’s prize roses grew in all their glory.

"Sit!" said Frank in a sergeant major tone of voice.

You sat down.

"Now," he said with the relish of a connoisseur, "how shall we go about it?" He picked up a wicked looking pair of garden shears that were lying in the wheelbarrow along with the other garden tools. "Let me see, I think we’ll start by cutting off your hair because only yesterday I heard Carrie saying that she liked the neat hairstyle you have ..." here his mind wandered for a moment, "...while I have to wear this hideous beard to disguise myself. Still I shall have my revenge!!!"

"Wait a minute Frank I say man come on! Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten that we’re pals! You wouldn’t do this to a pal, would you?"

"Watch me," he said disabusing you of the notion.

It was one of those moments in your life when everything hung in the balance. You looked around in desperation hoping for somebody, something that would make him stop.

"I took up this job as a gardener just because Carrie likes to be in the garden so much. But even here I find you infesting the premises. But good enough I shall get rid of you soon enough and now’s my chance!"

You had to find something to distract him and quickly. Fiona was bound to come along any time now, but till then you were much on your own.

"Wait a minute Frank", you yelled as your eyes alighted on the bed of roses he had been working on, "you don’t want to lose this job, do you?"

"Why?"

"Because if you don’t hurry up and do something that’s exactly what’s going to happen! For unless I am grossly mistaken that is Fiona’s favourite rose bush you’ve pulled out there and Fiona is going to be here any moment now!"

"What?" That got his attention, for though Frank may be a genius at astronomy he was no green thumb and he had in fact pulled out one of Fiona’s prize bushes, confused no doubt by the fact that it was not in bloom. To him apparently the logic was simple: no flower meant no rose bush meant weed it out.

"Gosh!" he said dropping the shearing scissors and his aggression at the same time, for you could hear Fiona talking to someone in the distance, "what am I going to do?"

Now the reader may think you weak-minded but faced by Frank’s return to his normal goofy state, and you had lost count of the number of times you’d seen the same lost expression on his face as a schoolboy, you couldn’t hold out. It was clear that he was looking to you to bail him out. For a moment your anger fought with the feeling of altruism and just when you felt the former was winning you heard yourself say,

"Fear not old chap, help is near!"