Kris had been passing the florists and had been drawn in by the wonderful heady scent. Now he was crossing the Square with his purchases - a bunch of brilliant orange tiger lilies and a cactus of hilariously suggestive shape - and was debating what to drop of where. Celeste
seemed like a good sport but would she appreciate a wang shaped cactus? Demitri on the other hand would probably find it as funny as he did.
Sometimes being sophisticated was such hard work that Kris gave it a miss.
###
Ylva was in Riverwalk Park with her lunch and a book. She was possibly a little too close to the Manor for comfort but the park was full of blondes today, she'd blend in.
She crossed long tanned legs, settled her sunglasses more firmly on her nose and turned a page.
###
The roof garden was open again, if a little sparse of plants, and Nick was on his knees unpacking the crate that had been left for the Manor by the Sexton family. At least this time there had been family. So often, he'd heard, they had carefully packed the lost life away into boxes and crates, had sent the furniture to auction for charity and had packed everything away. Rooms and rooms full of memories and nobody to appreciate them.
But this was another matter, he thought, as he uncovered the piece of relief sculpture and the discreet little plaque he was supposed to mount near it.
###
Allan lay flat on his back in the garden, with his eyes closed and his arms spread out. The un shone down and he was warm and drowsy and full of lunch and thinking hard about his latest bronze. It was back and he was halfway through finishing it and he was worried that Deacon and Charlie wouldn't like it. It hadn't turned out the way he'd intended at all.
But he'd worry about that later. For now he was warm - and might go to sleep.