Tales of the City 04 - Babycakes

stories on everyone you know?”
She hesitated, wondering about his motives again. “Has it been too much?” she finally asked him.
The smile he offered seemed genuine enough. “Not at all.”
“I hope not.”
“I’m astounded there’s been such a reaction. But it hasn’t been unpleasant.”
“Good.”
“As long as you don’t let any other journalists know where I am.”
“Don’t worry,” she replied. “I want you all to myself.”
He smiled again and bent a branch so that a large blossom touched the tip of his nose.
“They don’t smell,” she said.
He released the branch, catapulting the blossom toward the sky.
“It’s called a fried egg plant,” she added, “because it looks like …”
“Don’t tell me, now. Let me guess.”
She laughed.
“A bowling ball? No? A loaf of bread, perhaps?”
She shook his knee. “Stop teasing.”
A silence followed. She felt awkward about her hand on his knee, so she removed it.
“Who lives in these houses?” Simon asked.
She was glad to take refuge in her role as tour guide. “Well … they’re squatter shacks …”
“Really? I thought that was peculiar to England.”
“Oh, no,” she answered. “Are you kidding? During the gold rush …”
He cut her off with a brittle laugh. “We’re in different centuries, I think. I meant now.”
Thoroughly confused, she retraced her steps. “You … have squatters now?”
He nodded. “London is crawling with them.”
“You mean … people just claim land?”
“Houses, actually. Flats. The hippies started it, back when the city allowed empty council flats to fall into disrepair. They moved in, fixed them up a bit … claimed them for their own.”
“Well,” she commented, “that sounds fair enough.”
“Mmm,” he replied, “unless you’re the chap who goes on holiday and comes home to a family of Pakistanis … or what-have-you.”
“Has that happened?”
“Oh, yes.”
“They just move in? Take over the furniture and everything?”
He nodded. “To evict them, one must prove forceable entry. That’s bloody difficult sometimes. There can be months of mucking about before they’re booted out. It’s a complicated issue, mind you.”
“I can imagine.”
“There are squatters in my building,” he added. “They took over the vacant flat above me.”
“You didn’t see them do this?”
He shook his head. “I was on the royal honeymoon at the time.”
“What are they like?”
“The Prince and Princess?”
She smiled. “The squatters.”
“Oh … a middle-aged chap and his son. The father drinks too much. They’re aboriginals. Half-castes, actually.”
She had vague visions of grass-skirted natives with bones through their noses dancing around in circles, but she dismissed the subject in deference to a far more fascinating one.
“O.K. Now you can tell me about the royal honeymoon.”
The smile he sent back was tinged with diplomacy. “I thought we covered that in the interview.”
“That was the official stuff,” she said. “Now I want the dirt.”
He pulled the blossom into sniffing range again. “Off the record?”
“Of course.”
“Off the record, there is no dirt.”
“C’mon.”
“My job was working with the radios. I saw very little of the honeymooners.”
“Is she pretty?”
“Very.”
“Beautiful?”
“You’re on the right track.” He smiled.
“Would she know you if she saw you on the street?”
He nodded. “I took her out once.”
“You … dated her?”
“I escorted her to a David Bowie concert. Her flatmate knew a friend of mine. The four of us went. It was years ago … when she was only a lady.”
She giggled. “You doubledated with Lady Di.”
“So far”—he grinned—”there have been no medals for that.”
“Was she really a virgin when she married him?”
He shrugged. “Insofar as I had anything to do with it.”
She looked him in the eye. “Did you try?”
His lip flickered. “You don’t give up easily, do you?”
“Well,” she replied, “it’s not like it’s a big deal or anything. People do these things. Times have changed. Everybody does everything and nobody cares.”
“And discretion,” he added with a gentle smile, “is the last act of gallantry.”
It was all she could do to keep from showing her relief. He had passed with flying colors. She conceded her defeat with a demure smile. “Never kiss and tell, huh?”
He shook his head. “I like kissing too much.”
The screeching which prevented her next remark was so sudden and