The meanest Flood

Nott.
    The young man who answered the door was slight, bespectacled and balding prematurely. He wore a striped shirt which looked like it had been a pyjama top in a previous incarnation. The sleeves were rolled to the elbows. He raised his eyebrows when he saw Danny Mann. ‘Hello,’ he said. ‘What brings you here?’
    ‘Problem,’ Danny said. ‘Can I come in?’
    ‘Yes. I’m in the workshop.’ He led the way through the rambling house to a room at the back which had a single high window. There were workbenches on two walls, racks for tools above them, and several angle-poised halogen lamps.
    A headless female figure was stretched out on one bench, knees drawn up and hands clenched together over her lower chest. Under the bench was a wicker basket which contained two arms, one with a hand and the other without. Next to the basket was a large glass jar with long tresses of auburn hair.
    ‘Is it Jody?’ the young man asked, indicating the kitbag under the magician’s arm.
    ‘Yes, afraid so.’ Danny laid the bag on the floor and pulled Jody out. She was covered by one of his shirts and he unfastened the buttons to reveal her left breast. The young man winced as he came forward to inspect the damage. Jody’s nipple was almost severed from the breast, hanging on by four or five millimetres of flesh-like plastic.
    J. C. Nott adjusted his spectacles and brought his face close to the injury. He ran his index finger around the torn area, gently pushing upwards to reunite the papilla with the surrounding aureole. ‘Nasty,’ he said. ‘Teeth?’
    The magician nodded, tight-lipped. ‘What do you think?’
    ‘It’s bad,’ the young man said. ‘I can fix it but it’s going to happen again. Better if I replace the whole breast, reinforce it somehow. Or both breasts? It’s not going to be cheap.’
    ‘You’re the artist,’ Danny told him. ‘I don’t want to know the details, and I don’t care about the money. How long before I get her back?’
    ‘I’ll need a week,’ the artist said. ‘Give her a complete going over. She got any other problems?’
    Danny shook his head. ‘A week’s a long time.’
    ‘Give me a ring on Thursday,’ the young man said. ‘I’ll try to get her done for the weekend.’
    ‘I don’t want anything changing,’ Danny told him. ‘I mean size. They’re just right as they are. I’m used to them now.’ He’d wondered, shortly after taking delivery of her for the first time. He’d imagined something bigger, something he could bury his head in, but he’d made adjustments in his thinking, accepting the reality of the situation. Now he liked her exactly as she was. If she came back with a different cup size it’d be like committing adultery.
    He glanced back at her on the bench as he left the workshop. The bottom corner of the shirt had fallen away over her hip and her blonde pubic hair was visible. The magician took a couple of steps back into the room and covered her. Jody didn’t mind who looked at her or what kind of state she was in. But Danny minded.
    On the dashboard of his car was a white petalled flower, its heart deep crimson, as if stained with blood. Danny reached for it and brought it to his nose. He peered through the windscreen and the side windows of the car, but there was no one in sight. He smiled to himself. Could be magic.
    Women did this to him. He released something in them so that they gave him presents. But their ardour didn’t last. They were fickle. The only constant in his life these days, apart from his work, was Jody.
    Driving home without her, he felt bereft, as though some cord had been cut. He was stoical about it, all of these things were sent to try us. And it wasn’t as if she was a lot of help about the house. He smiled, glad that he had a sense of humour. It had been his salvation on many occasions, the ability to see the funny side of a situation. Some men let life get them down, fell into depression and negativity. But Danny didn’t do that; he didn’t need to, he had magic on his side.
    Before Jody he had been lonely. There had always been women, but their presence only added to the loneliness. After his mother died it’d got worse. He’d gone to Bangkok to meet girls who wanted a western husband. Had a fortnight there, interviewing one girl after another, so many of them it was difficult to choose. Their quiet obedience was impressive, their flowing dresses and bright black eyes. He’d learned some magic there as well,