Big Vern, Author of “In the Graveyard…” (as told at Joe Kennedy)

“Baby, I can’t believe you put me in one of your stories!”

I was crouched underneath the windowsill, popping my head up from time to time to see if they were outside yet. Not yet, but soon.

“So sweet of you!”

Of course, it wasn’t her. She didn’t even drink coffee. I’d let that slatternly appearance deceive me, in that bar. Turns out she only smokes when she’s drinking, no, only when she’s drinking on special occasions. But I was trying to keep a low profile right now; tell her the truth and she’d be right out in the street, clicking her heels loudly.

“Shhh. They got sound detectors. That’s how they caught Vic, y’know.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that. Honey, this is all paranoia. Let’s go out tonight- it’s not right locking yourself up like this.”

“Paranoia? Is it nowt.” I said, mimicking one of my characters.

A car came down the street. I don’t know much about cars, but I know they’re cars when I see them. Pastel green. Two men sat in the front, wearing suits. She was still sitting at the computer, browsing for my work on the web, a bottle of sparkling water to her left. I should have gone with my instincts: the left handers are always the most trouble.

“I’ve got to vacuum. Petal’s coming over at three for tea, and she’s got a dust allergy.”

Dust allergy?

“Darling,” I said, fixing her with a masterful expression, “do you think you could leave that for today? Call Petal and tell her you’ve got flu.”

“I spoke to her on the phone twenty minutes ago, and I think I’d have told her then if I had flu.”

Scuppered.

The car had gone past, but I know they were just waiting for the moment.