The meanest Flood

on the banks of the Chao Phraya River. The magic of the void. The importance of Zero.
    Back in England he almost got around to ordering one of those girls.
    If it hadn’t been for the man in the Adult Shop suggesting he have a look at the work of J. C. Nott, Diamond Danny would have got himself a Thai wife and he’d never have met Jody at all.
    On reflection Danny was confident that he’d made the right choice. In a way a Thai girl would have been an attempt to replace his mother, and you can’t do that. You can’t replace your mother, not ever. Jody wasn’t anything like a mother.
    She was a work of art.
     
    Marilyn waited in the street and when the magician drove out of his garage she followed at a discreet distance in her mother’s car.
    He followed a route out of York, through the flooded main street of Fulford and along the A19 in the direction of Selby. When he pulled into the left, behind a plantation of conifers, she drove past and parked by the side of the road. She left Ellen’s car and walked back. She could see Danny’s car in the driveway of a large gabled house but Danny was no longer behind the wheel.
    She avoided the pebbled drive and pushed her way through the trees. The house was quiet, the windows showing only empty rooms. There was no movement and no sound of voices.
    In a small garden around the side of the house she found Hibiscus sinosyriacus ‘Autumn Surprise’, brilliant and cheerful against the dark soil. She plucked the flower from the stem and carried it back to Danny’s car, thinking she would tuck it beneath his wiper-blades. But as she approached the car she could see that the locks were standing proud. With a glance towards the house she pulled open the driver’s door and kissed the flower before placing it on his dashboard.
    From the shelter of the conifers she watched as the door of the house opened and Danny was framed there with a bald young man in a pyjama top. They shook hands and the young man went back into the house, closing the door behind him. Danny got into his car and Marilyn watched as he reached for the ‘Autumn Surprise’ and brought it to his lips. He looked for her, but she kept still and quiet and waited for him to start the car and steer it down the drive, turning back towards York when he reached the main road.
    When he’d gone Marilyn walked over to the door of the house and read the plaque on the wall: J. C. Nott. Nothing else. Just the name. It didn’t say J. C. Nott, Magician, or J. C. Nott, Magicians’ Supplier. From reading the name on the plaque Marilyn couldn’t decipher what it was that J. C. Nott did and what it was that Danny had been to see him about. Danny hadn’t come out of the house with anything, but it was possible that he had taken something inside. She couldn’t say for sure.
    She thought of knocking on the door with the brass knocker. She could pretend that she was lost or she could say Ellen’s car had broken down and ask to use the telephone. But she didn’t knock. There was something about the young man in the pyjama top. She didn’t want to find herself trapped in that house with him. Maybe it was his baldness or the way the light had reflected off his glasses? Marilyn didn’t know what it was but there was something when she thought of being alone with him that made her want to shudder.
    Back at home she looked up the number in the telephone directory.
    ‘J. C. Nott,’ the voice said.
    ‘Do you make magic tricks?’ Marilyn said into the mouthpiece.
    There was silence. ‘Are you sure you’ve got the right number?’ he said finally.
    ‘Yes, I think so,’ Marilyn said. ‘What do you do?’
    ‘My name is James Nott. I’m an artist.’
    ‘Oh, I see,’ Marilyn said. ‘I’ve got the wrong number.’ She put the phone down.
    An artist. That explained it. Danny was going to have his portrait painted. Maybe it was to be a surprise? For her? That was one of the problems of snooping, especially on a lover. You discovered things you’d rather not know. Spoiled a nice surprise.
    But Danny wouldn’t know what she’d done. So long as she didn’t let it slip during one of their long conversations. So long as he continued to sit for the artist. So long as she could act surprised when he eventually presented her with the portrait.
     
    The doorbell rang and Danny collected his suitcase and checked that he’d switched off the gas-ring and the grill. He locked the door behind him and climbed into the back of the