"Should we be talking about this in a pub, there could be enemy agents anywhere."

"I had to give two the slip earlier, I think the same two who tried to kill Scott with the snowplough."

"Not the snowplough?" said Simon.

Easy As Forgetting My Welsh.
by: Angharad llaw euraid.
part: cant a'n drigain'n naw.

I had asked Simon to be careful he wasn't followed to the pub. To make sure, well it is Simon after all, I got there early and watched from a park opposite. He had taken a taxi too, which I saw go past and then return two minutes later. It barely stopped and he hopped out and it flew off again. He ran into the pub, the quickest I'd ever seen him move.

I watched and waited. No one seemed to be tailing him. Then I nipped across the road.

He was stood at the bar watching the door. I slipped in and closed it quickly. I had a scarf tied around my head to keep my head warm, disguise my hair and hide some of my face. I was also wearing my Barbour coat with jeans and trainers. I suppose I looked more like a dogwalker than the photo with Spike which had appeared in the press.

Simon hadn't immediately recognised me, but then as I took the scarf off he rushed up to take my hand. "What do you want to drink and do you want to eat?"

"Tom Agnew is coming in an hour, we're going to eat then, are you going to stay?"

"Yeah, I can wait an hour. You know since the cook left, I don't think I've had a truly decent meal."

"Why do you think she left?" I asked as we found a table which enabled us to keep an eye on the door and yet be relatively private. I sipped my wine as he thought of an answer.

"I'm not sure, she said they were after her, which we put down to paranoid delusions."

"And now?" I prompted.

"We are satisfied she is paranoid, but that they are out to get her."

"Can't you think of a better line than that?" I whined, shaking my head.

"Give me a chance, I'm a banker not a comedian," he said tetchily.

That's a matter of opinion, I thought to myself. I sipped the wine again.

"So what happened with Dirty Des?"

"He made a move after I produced some cake."

"Not your famous sponge cake."

"Ha ha!" I said sarcastically.

"I'm not joking Babes, I love your cake. So there was Dirty Des with my girl and eating my cake and, well what happened?"

"He asked me to elope with him, which I assumed was just a joke."

"It is, he asked me once," snorted Simon, "I told him he'd have to shave his beard off, if I did. He refused, as I knew he would."

"Oh, I thought his beard might be his only saving grace." I blushed when Simon gave me a filthy look.

"So then he made a real move?"

"Yeah, told me he fancied me and wanted to make passionate love to me."

"THE SWINE!" Simon said loudly and everyone looked at us. "Sorry," he whispered.

"I told him, he'd lost his dormouse programme, but he said it would be worth it for a night of passionate sex with me. I tried to tell him I don't do passionate."

"Fibber, you have passions about all sorts of things, including me." Simon smiled clicking his front teeth together, to indicate it's falseness.

"But of course darling," I said smiling back as artifically as he had.

"Marry me Cathy, I can't live with out you." He fell down on one knee holding my hand. The woman on the next table snorted cider all over her husband.

"I can't Heathcliff, I'm already promised." I said back as sadly as I could.

"Cathy, but I can't live without you?" he pleaded, and I was very close to losing it in a fit of giggles.

"Even if the cook comes back?" I said.

"Erm, maybe not," he said.

"Look next time you come round while my fiance is away, I'll teach you some easy recipes, how about that?"

"Will we have time Cathy? I mean you are so demanding, four times a night, it leaves me exhausted the next day."

"We can always put something in the oven," I beamed.

"What like a bun?" asked Simon innocently, and the woman snorted more cider nearly choking herself.

"I was thinking more of a casserole," I said digging deep to maintain self control. Simon had obviously done amateur dramatics or something because he was totally unruffled.

He took a sip of his Guinness, "So when does he come back then?"

"I don't know, it's classified. I saw him cleaning his automatic, so it looks dangerous."

"Not another assassination job?" said Simon in disgust.

"Well that Russian president is becoming a pain, one word from P and my Scott will pop him."

"Should we be talking about this in a pub, there could be enemy agents anywhere."

"I had to give two the slip earlier, I think the same two who tried to kill Scott with the snowplough."

"Not the snowplough?" said Simon.

"Yes, it was a trifle obvious in June." As these words left my mouth the woman on the next table snorted the last of her cider and still coughing, was led away by her husband.

As soon as they left, we both lost our restraint and giggled like two schoolgirls.

"I had two creeps follow me in Bristol, in an Audi. I gave them the slip." I then explained what I'd done.

Simon shook his head, "You read too many spy novels."

"I don't read any of them. Too ludicrous, I prefer my who dunnits."

"So the Siamese cat who solves murders isn't ludicrous then?"

"Hmmph!" I folded my arms, "Of course not Koko is just wunnerful and he has extra whiskers, so there."

"What's it called Pickax City and Brrr, aren't they just names to conjour with?" He shook his head.

"Well I like them, and I have a new one once I can find time to read it."

"Which one is this, 'The Cat who solved the Kennedy Conspiracy'?"

"Ha ha!" I said.

"Can I get you youngsters a drink?" announced the arrival of Tom Agnew.

"Really Tom, I should be buying you one," I said blushing.

"Don't worry you can earn your keep, I fancy a stew tomorrow, how about you make one?"

I felt his forehead, "What are you doing?"

"I thought you might be ill, Tom, no chicken curry."

"I'll have one tonight and another for lunch tomorrow."

"It's sunday tomorrow," I reminded him.

"God so it is, okay, do a roast tomorrow and the stew on monday."

"Your wish is my command oh master," and I stood up and curtseyed.

"You training her up for me?" asked Simon.

"Why do you want to make an offer, I believe the transfer market is open again."

"Boys please, I have had it up to here with being objectified, either sexually or for my domestic skills."

"Maybe not," said Simon shaking his head, "She talks too much." At which Tom spilled half his wine and nearly fell off his stool.

The meal was nice, I had a tuna salad with new potatoes, Simon had lasagne, and I think you can guess what Tom had. I had loads of tuna with my salad, so I think they must have opened a larger can than pubs usually do.

"How long do you think this harassment will go on?"

"Only until I die."

"Hey it's the dormouse girl," someone shouted to his friend. I cringed.

"Yeah that was some trick, I'm pretty sure it's on Youtube."

"Oh great, I'll check that out tonight."

"And I have it on DVD, whispered Tom," chuckling.

"I'm never going to live that down am I?"

"Probably not, but it isn't everyone who can juggle with dormice so erotically."

"Oh no, they want my autograph!"

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