Day in the life of a lonely baggage handler

You lot have been suspiciously quiet today. I'd almost believe the world had ended outside of this little corner of East Anglia. But I've seen the odd plane overhead, so I assume civilisation is still out there somewhere?

I'm still here, obviously. Wondering what delights to sample for dinner tonight. Might just go to a supermarket on the bike, get some salad or something.

It's been raining here today. Grey, then a proper downpour. We were out in it, so we just sat in the car (I was working with Cameron again.) he used to be a biker, before his three kids showed up, so we had plenty to talk about.

Anyway, today has been...semi productive. Let's just say local knowledge may solve the case. But it could also have meant it going unsolved. If I'm right (and I'd bet you a pound to a bag of shit I am) then 'i've known him since he were a nipper' will not stand up in court as evidence of innocence, no matter how many people here say it. Tomorrow...we'll be going to have a chat with someone. And I think he'll give himself away.




Anyway, all this time alone in the evenings means....


**************

Greg finished tying the ribbon around the last bouquet and watched as John swept the odd leaves and ends of taffeta from the floor. They had fallen into their roles easily in the few weeks they had worked together. John was learning how to arrange the blooms and foliage, and Greg had begun to let him choose which varieties to use in the bunches, as well as having him work on table centres and wedding sets, which were just exercises in copying and repeating set pieces.

John leant on his broom, smiling at Greg. "So...what would you say if I invited you out to dinner, tomorrow," he asked.

Greg looked up and grinned. "I'd say...that'd be brilliant. But you're not allowed."

John frowned. "Not allowed?"

"I can't let you spend your pay on feeding me. No way," Greg replied. "So you can invite me out, but I've got to pay. Youve been awarded 'employee of the month', see, and that's your prize. Dinner, wherever you choose."

John laughed. "I'm your only bloody employee, idiot!"

Greg pretended to look thoughtful. "Suppose you'll have to let me buy you dinner at least once a month then, won't you?"

John just shook his head, smiling. "And what happens when you win manager of the month? What are we going to do then?"

"Ah," Greg said. "Um...you could buy me breakfast and a coffee?"

"That hardly seems fair," John said.

Greg shrugged. "It's a hard life, being the boss."

John squirted him with the spray bottle he'd used to refresh the display. "Idiot," he reiterated.


The next evening they sat in a local restaurant, talking easily on topics from flowers to sports. After a dessert of rich, creamy, tiramisu Greg leant back in his chair. "What would you say if...if I offered you coffee? Back at mine."

John took a moment, then nodded slowly. "I'd say that would be nice, actually."

Greg smiled, watching the expression on John's handsome face. "Excellent."


As they walked up the road, towards Greg's flat, above the shop, Greg turned to John. "So, before you gave in to your life long urge to be a florist, what did you fill your time doing?"


***************

i'll tell you what. I would do bloody anything to see John and the boys right now. Cameron's wife came in at the end of today with his girls, and it just sort of brought it home quite how bloody lonely it is here.

(Oh, I forgot. Saw THIS and thought of you, Danger. - And no, the rest of you, don't take this as some sort of hint.)