When the phone rang at four, I knew the call could only be from one of two ladies.
"This is your ever willing listener, Richard Bird," I began. "And to whom have I the pleasure of talking on this bright moonlit night?"
"Oh, Richard, I'm in such a mess," wailed the voice of Angela. "You did say it was okay to phone any time."
"Miss Partridge, my dear girl, there are fifty million inhabitants in this country, discounting the odd baron, but there are just two ladies to whom I offer this exclusive service. Just wait one second while I make myself comfortable." I carried the phone over to an armchair. "Now," I continued in my gentlest tone, "you have my full attention."
"It was all right until an hour ago," she sighed, "and then I couldn't make up my mind about phoning you. Richard, I don't behave like this to all my friends."
"I should hope not, or you'd have half the population of Leatherhead wandering around like bug-eyed zombies. Still, as long as I'm the one you turn to, Angie, I don't mind at all. How can I help?"
"Oh God," she wailed wretchedly, "I feel so cheap and dirty. I'll try and explain what happened, but I'm so miserable right now ..."
I asked whether Betty could hear what she was saying.
"I don't think it matters," she sniffed, "not any more."
"All right," I said. "Just tell me what happened. Take your time."
I heard the long and ponderous sighs of someone not knowing where or how to begin.
"I went to bed soon after you left, Richard, and tried to sleep - only I kept thinking - maybe dreaming - but I couldn't get those dirty vandals out of my mind. The thought of them wrecking my house like that! Why would they do such a thing, Richard? What could they hope to gain from it? Anyway," she continued before I could reply, "I drifted into some kind of half-sleep, but I didn't feel safe. I kept imagining I could hear them downstairs doing the same thing in Betty's home. Then I definitely heard a noise. I crept downstairs, petrified, but I had to set my mind at rest. I'm sure you've have been much braver. It was marvellous the way you dealt with Simon yesterday. If you hadn't been there, he'd have talked me into going with him, I know he would. He's good at that, but I really didn't want to. I never want to see him again."
"To be honest, Angie, I wasn't sure whether you approved. I mean, I had no right to interfere - he's supposed to be your fiancé. But when he started getting abusive, I decided that was enough - though between ourselves, I was quite scared until he backed off. He's taller than I am."
"And I'm a lot smaller than most burglars," she reminded me. "I was bloody terrified coming down those stairs, but I felt I needed to check all the doors and windows, to make sure they were fastened. And then I heard voices in the front room, a man's voice, very low and kind of eerie. Richard, I nearly died! I flew upstairs to wake Betty, but she wasn't there. I thought I was in the house all alone, with a burglar waiting for me in the front room. Finally I went downstairs again and listened. Oh, Richard, I felt so silly. My burglar was talking about Persil Automatic."
I gave an appreciative laugh, suitable for the end of her story.
"Anyway, I opened the door," she went on, "and found Betty sitting there in her nightie with a cup of Horlicks, watching ITV at three o'clock in the morning."
"Lucky it wasn't a vampire movie," I said.
"Oh, Richard, don't make fun. It gets worse, and I feel so bloody ashamed." Her voice became childlike. "I was so relieved there wasn't a burglar, I ran into the room and flung my arms around Betty, splashing Horlicks all over her chair, and she got very angry. I probably frightened her, but I've never known Betty get angry before, not with me. She made me feel I was the intruder. I wanted her to love me again, so I put my arms around her, hoping she'd be kind, and I hugged her and kissed her. I wasn't thinking, Richard, I was too upset, too lonely, and too frightened. She threw me off, and called me a dirty animal. I said I was sorry, oh, you don't know how sorry - that dear, kind person has done so much for me. And now I've killed my most precious friendship in the world. I've ruined everything ... everything!"
Her voice betrayed worrying tones.
"Take your time, Angie," I said gently. "Remember, you're still my precious friend too - don't ever forget that. Where's Betty now?"
"Upstairs," she wailed loudly. "She's gone upstairs, and locked her bedroom door. Locked it! To keep me out!"
The crying was out of control and Angela was so distressed, I felt she might do something silly. This situation on top of everything else might well be the final straw. I knew I had to take firm control and somehow keep her mind occupied.
"Listen, Angie. Don't say anything for one minute. Just listen to my voice. When I've done, you're to answer a simple Yes or No. I'm going to get dressed now, and then I'm coming straight over there. You're to go to the kitchen and cook for me the finest Saturday morning breakfast you can dream up. Be sure to listen out for when I arrive. I won't ring the bell in case it disturbs Betty. When I get there, you and I are going to sit down and have breakfast together. I want to be with you when Betty wakes up, okay? And Angela, my love, you've got one devoted friend here, and I suspect you've still got two. Now, will you do that for me? The best breakfast you've ever cooked in your life, and I'll be there in under twenty minutes. Now, it's your turn - just say Yes or No."
I heard a lifeless "Yes."
"Good girl. And Angie?"
"Yes?"
"Thanks for calling me. I'll do what I can for you. See you soon."
I hurriedly dressed, hoping I'd given Angela enough of a distraction until I got there. I had no experience of this kind of situation, not of Angela's attraction towards her friend, nor of comforting the emotionally disturbed. I could only draw on my instincts, hoping they were reasonably sound. If I did get out of my depth, I knew the Samaritans could be summoned for extra help.
It was still dark as I retraced yesterday's route, and I was afraid I might mistake Betty's cottage - I had no idea of the number. But luckily her newly repaired gate provided the vital clue.
Unlike their previous visitor I coasted silently up to the house and parked on the verge. The gate opened in perfect silence, and I was greeted by a waiting figure who came to the door in a long white dressing gown. I slipped my hand into hers, while deliberately avoiding any intimacy that might have been inappropriate.
"Good morning, beautiful," I whispered. "Mm, that smells wonderful."
The aroma of frying bacon and sausages had probably reached Betty's nostrils too, but there was no sign of her. I followed Angela into the kitchen, where I found a small table set neatly for two.
"Your friend upstairs may be wondering what she's missing," I said. "You're a very capable cook, Angie."
"I had plenty of practice," she revealed. "Especially when it came to entertaining Daddy's important city guests."
"He must have been very proud of you. But Angie, I didn't see any photos of him at your house."
"They upset me," she said. "I needed to hide them for a while."
"I can understand. But don't shut him out for too long, Angie. The hurt will soon fade into a poignant memory. Of course, you were too young to remember losing your mother."
She nodded. "What's your mother like?"
"Forceful," I smiled. "She's kind of mumsy, if you know what I mean - though perhaps you don't. You'll have to meet her, that's the only way. I was actually due to visit her this weekend, in fact I could probably take you along too - unless you've made other arrangements. But don't let me start organising your life, Angie, or I'll feel I'm acting like Simon."
"You're nothing like Simon," she said, "and that's meant as a compliment. Here, take this."
She handed me a warm plate with a poached egg resting in a bed of soft scrambled egg decorated with a ring of parsley, three strips of rindless streaky bacon tied in neat bows, a large black mushroom, a fried tomato and two well-cooked sausages. Onto the table she placed a side plate with two triangular pieces of buttered toast and a slice of crispy fried bread.
"Is this okay?" she asked hopefully, as though auditioning for a play. "Mine's just coming, but I'm serving you first, and you're not to let it get cold."
We sat together in the kitchen, and apart from exchanging a few noises of gastronomic appreciation we enjoyed our stately breakfast in silence. There were many topics I wanted to discuss with Angela, but what mattered most was that she was no longer alone with her troubles. How we might address them and maybe overcome them - well, that remained to be seen.
The sumptuous cooked breakfast was followed by toast and honey and a pot of freshly roasted coffee. It was now just half past five, and through the pretty lace curtains at the kitchen window I could see the hint of a glow in the eastern sky.
"It's going to be a nice day," Angie whispered, breaking the silence at last.
"A bit early to trot upstairs with the other lady's coffee," I said. "What do you suggest we do till then?"
"Oh, God, I don't know. My life's such a mess all of a sudden. It's all come tumbling down in the last few weeks. I don't know who my friends are any more, I don't know where my home is, or what I'm going to live on. I've got no training for a proper kind of job. A month ago I'd never have dreamed this could happen to me, not all at once like this, my whole world collapsing around me. This has been the worst month of my life, do you know that? The absolute bloody worst."
"Look," I said, "there's one thing we've got to get straight between us, Angie, and I don't know quite how to put it. My biggest concern is not to upset you. If Betty wasn't expecting the kind of devotion you showed her two hours ago, I'd hate to give you the wrong impression about me. But I need to be honest with you, Angie. I want to look after you. Whether as a brother, an uncle, a substitute father, a close friend or a lover, whatever you can accept - I want to care for you. Do you think that's possible?"
"I'm in such a mess right now," she sighed, "anything's possible."
"Then for a start, how about coming to visit my mother today?"
"I don't know. Our plans for the weekend are all blown to bits, thanks to my stupid behaviour."
"Angie, my love, it wasn't stupid," I argued. "Unfortunate, unwise, perhaps, but you behaved quite naturally. You were lonely and frightened, that's all. The rest is as much Betty's fault as yours. Angie, it surely can't be wrong to let someone know you care for them."
"Then why did Betty lock her door?"
"Maybe she too felt nervous about intruders? But I expect she'll be up and about soon. Then perhaps we can blow away a few cobwebs."
"I don't want to face her," Angela said, shaking her uncombed head. "I can't. Not if she hates me."
"Angie, love, people who've been friends for years don't suddenly hate each other. Your friendship may have been blown off course slightly, but I can't believe it's a total write-off. Do you mind if I talk openly to Betty? Is there anything you'd rather I didn't say?"
After some thought Angela decided. "You can't make things any worse."
"Okay. But don't let me down, Angie. I'm doing this because your friendship grows more precious to me every time I come round for breakfast. Aha! You hear that?"
From above came the sound of creaking cottage floor-boards. Betty was on her way to the bathroom.
"Quick," I said, "pour a fresh cup of coffee and I'll take it up right now. If I'm not down in fifteen minutes, send for the Royal Artillery."
I went upstairs with the coffee and found the bathroom door wide open. Betty was evidently back in her room, so I knocked gently.
"Room service. Anyone care for an extremely early cup of coffee?"
"Richard?" said a sleepy voice. "What on earth are you doing back here, you eager boy? It's still dark."
"I had this sudden urge to come visiting," I called through the door. "Damned unsociable, I know, but that's the trouble with us Birds - far too chirpy at dawn. I've just enjoyed a magnificent breakfast downstairs."
"I know, I can smell it," she said. "Well? Don't wait for an entry visa. Come on in."
I found Betty sitting in bed reading. She laid down the book, took off her glasses and stared at me like a benevolent school-mistress.
"Tell me the truth, Richard. Did you just turn up on the off chance of a free meal, or did a certain person make another of her inconsiderate phone calls?"
"I invited myself," I admitted. "I was concerned about the state of distress downstairs. Our friend seems to have had a very restless night, dreaming about vandals and hearing voices. No wonder she's got herself in a bit of an emotional tangle."
"A bit?" Betty barked. "I've never known her like that. She burst into the front parlour and virtually attacked me. Scared the pants off me!"
"That must have taken some doing," I grinned. "I used to do the most awful things in the night when I was young. My mother was once convinced from the noise I was making that I had a girl in bed with me. She came storming into my room and found me making rash vows to my pillow. The mean old woman! Woke me up and wrecked a promising romance."
"Nice try, Richard, but I think you know what happened here. We neither of us imagined it. I knew what was going on, and so did she."
"I was told she came in and kissed you, is that right? She said she heard the television and thought it was a burglar stealing your Persil Automatic. Something about spilling Horlicks all over the carpet and making you angry."
"Angry? I was furious, apart from being scared out of my wits. She revealed her true colours at last, and I found it quite repulsive."
"Perhaps with all the emotional shocks you've both been having lately, she was just showing natural feelings towards you."
"I'm afraid I don't go along with the word Natural. I assure you there was something very unnatural about the way Angela was behaving."
Our eyes locked for a moment. "You've seen this coming?" I challenged her. "You mentioned showing her true colours at last."
"Let's face it, Richard. Sorry to dampen your ardour, but your little friend downstairs is a Lesbian. I had my suspicions for a long time. I'm not entirely naive about that sort of thing - there were plenty of cases at school. But Angie ought to have grown out of that silliness by now."
"Perhaps, Betty, by working together, you and I can help her to do that. She needs friends at the moment, I guess we all do. She's certainly opened my eyes to the lonely life I've been leading recently."
I saw a sympathetic smile. "You're still smitten, aren't you?"
I nodded truthfully and humbly.
"And what she is, or appears to be, doesn't put you off?"
"Who's to say what she is or isn't?" I argued. "When you fall for someone, it's the whole package, not just the nice parts. I've been fascinated in the past by girls with gorgeous legs, exciting busts or pretty faces. I am a fairly normal sort of chap, Betty, as far as that sort of thing goes. But I first knew Angie as a sad, lonely voice in the dark. I didn't see her face or the other attractive wrappings till the next day. Now it's the very essence of who she is that appeals to me."
"Lucky Angela," Betty sighed. "I hope she damned well appreciates what she's got."
"But between us we've got to do the best we can for her, and I say US and WE because I need to be involved as well. Betty, you're her best friend, but to be honest, if she's in a kissing, cuddling mood, I'd appreciate a chunk of it coming my way."
"You're a crafty bugger," Betty mumbled as I handed her the coffee.
"It may be too early for coffee," I explained, "but I brought this as an excuse to say three things. First, and most important, Betty, I need your moral support. Angie's very distressed by what happened last night, and I want to be sure we work together as a team to steer her in the right direction - my direction, if possible. I'm sure we both love her and we both want to do the best we can for her. The second equally wild idea is that I thought of taking you and Angela today on an outing to meet my ancient mother. I haven't warned the old girl yet but I'll phone her before we leave. It'll maybe blow away a few cobwebs - Mother's a stickler for getting rid of things like that. Thirdly, there's a cordon-bleu breakfast downstairs if you can face it, a breakfast prepared with tender loving care, which is what we're both going to offer its cook in return."
"I repeat, Richard, you're a crafty sod, but I like your style. It won't be easy, but we've got to clear the air if she's to continue living under my roof. All right, it's sheer madness, but I'll be down in ten minutes. I don't want much - but I will smoke the token pipe of peace."
"Bless you," I said, and left her to dress.
Below, Angela was washing up, doing dutifully what she hoped might restore some of the favours she needed from her best friend.
"Hallo, beautiful," I said. "The sun's coming out. Betty will be down in fifteen minutes, and a token sample of what you cooked for me would be most appropriate. She's okay, honest. And you're not the most despised creature in the world, in fact I think you're rather special. Can we make this a joint effort?"
"Betty won't want a cooked breakfast like yours. I'll do her a simple poached egg on toast."
"Okay, but also fry up a small piece of sausage," I advised, "then it'll smell more inviting. And may I say, you look adorable in that dressing gown?"
I was rewarded with a coy twinkling smile as Angela prepared the poacher for another egg.
Soon we heard footsteps.
"My ex-husband tried to convince me this was the best time of day," Betty yawned as she joined us. "Mmmm, that smells good. I guess that's Richard's influence. Didn't you get any more sleep, Angie, after our episode with the Horlicks?"
"No," Angela replied quietly. "I guess I'm still jet-lagged."
"Didn't I warn you it'd be worse coming this way. Have you both had breakfast?"
"We have," I replied, "and it's been my best start to a day for ages. You two must have another row, so we can do this again some time."
"It wasn't really a row," Betty intervened at once, "just a silly misunderstanding. We were both very tired, and scared of being burgled."
"Any further news about the furniture?" I asked.
Angela brightened up at once. "Yes," she said. "I phoned through after you'd gone and told them what happened. I also phoned the neighbour who let the removal men in. The furniture's quite safe, and everything was okay in the house when they left."
"So we're down to a few contaminated carpets which the executors can deal with, some rude words on a wall which you must never reveal to my mother, and a couple of slightly frightened ladies. That's good news, Angie."
"My biggest worry," she said, "is about any other messages left on my answering machine. Some of them could have been important."
"If they were, Angie, you'll soon hear from those callers again, and hopefully they'll show more understanding than yesterday's visitor."
Betty gave a saucy grin. "Angela was full of admiration, Richard, over your sauve handling of that irksome gentleman."
"It was fun," I lied. "Though I hope it won't happen too often. Now, can I ask whether you have plans for the weekend? I have to go and visit another remarkable lady, but if you're both willing to face one of life's greater challenges, I'd love to take you both along as reinforcements. It's in Bourton-on-the-Water, and I'm expected there around mid-morning."
"I think that's a great idea," Betty exclaimed. "I'd love to, if your mother won't hate us for not giving her fair warning."
"I'll phone from here," I said. "It's a wild idea, but I like being wild and impulsive now and again."
"So does Angela!" said Betty with a forgiving smile, which effectively cleared the air. Whatever happened in the small hours was fast becoming a minor incident that would soon fade into history. As an unofficial Samaritan I felt gratified. Between us, we'd successfully pricked the balloon and released its gas safely without causing a violent explosion.
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