Foster Woods was opening up Paws For Thought, the pet shop that his father, Zachary, had left to him and which Zachary himself had started many years ago, after he had come to England from The Caribbean.
Zachary had emigrated hoping for a better life, with all the economic opportunities the centre of The Commonwealth had to offer. But the streets had not been paved with gold and jobs were erratic. Finally, he decided to become self-employed. All in all, it had been a good move. Success in business was said to depend on location and he had picked a good place selling pet supplies in a reasonably affluent area.
Foster reflected that another piece of good luck was needed now. Customers had become increasingly scarce in the current economy, and takings had been dwindling for some time. He was therefore grateful to see a familiar customer already waiting at the door.
"Good morning, Tricia, how are you today?"
"What?" Tricia seemed startled by the question. "Oh, I’m… I’m fine, thank you."
"Now there’s a face that hides a few thoughts. It’s not Moxie, your cat, causing that frown, is it?"
"No," Tricia shook her head. "No. It’s… it’s nothing really."
"That’s a relief. Your usual order, is it? I’ll take it out to your car."
Just at that moment, a less familiar figure entered the shop.
"Hello, Mrs Ashton. Long time since you been here."
"Is it?" Gladys said, a little surprised. "I just want some millet for my Joey."
"You’ve got a new budgie then?
"Joey? No. We’ve had him for ages. What a thing to say."
Foster shot a glance at Tricia and was about to make a comment, but he could see he was not likely to get much of a response. Sometimes customers could be baffling. Interesting but baffling.
Sammy opened the door to find Buster Keaton on the step. It was unusual for him to have callers on his day off and preferred not to be interrupted in what had become his routine.
"Mr Carter? I want to have a word with you. May I come in?"
"Is it important? I was just about to have a nap? Sorry – that was rude. Of course – come in."
Sammy showed Buster into the lounge. "Excuse the mess," he said, removing discarded take-away food cartons from a chair. However, Buster did not sit.
"Mr Carter," Buster pulled out a sheaf of paper printed off from a computer. "Can you explain these photographs? That is you isn’t it?"
Sammy looked at the first two pages and turned white. "Where did you get these?"
"I think you know where. What I want to know is how they got on Mr Farrah’s camera in the first place."
"Oh God…" said Sammy. He moved away and, picking up a bottle of scotch and a glass from the floor, poured himself a very stiff drink.
"It was really, really stupid of me," said Sammy.
"I don’t doubt that. What did you think you were doing?" said Buster.
"You’ve got to understand. It’s ever since the divorce – you knew my wife and I had split up?"
"I think I heard something."
"I thought it would be a trial separation. Then it got to two years, and she sent me the papers… the papers that…" Sammy took a hard drink from his glass.
"What’s this got to do with dirty pictures of yourself?" Buster asked, softly.
"It’s just nuts." A thought struck Sammy, and a look of horror crossed his face. "The hotel doesn’t need to know about this, does it? I’d lose my job. Without that, I’ve had it."
"That depends," said Buster. "Just tell me what happened."
Sammy took a deep breath. "I was doing the round of the rooms. I think I may have had a couple of drinks. Things haven’t… you know? I saw the camera. I just thought it would be, well, be fun, to take a couple of pictures of myself. I’ve been so lonely… it’s been a long time… even before we split up. I just thought it would be fun. I was only borrowing the camera."
"Go on."
"Well, I must have sobered up a bit and tried to delete the pictures but I didn’t know how. I saw the Farrahs coming back. I panicked and put the camera back. I hoped they wouldn’t notice. Afterwards I realised that was … wishful thinking."
"Somewhat," said Buster.
"When I saw them moving in, I decided to see them and own up. When I called on them, though, I just couldn’t. Then I saw the camera, just lying there. I grabbed it and cleared off. But I still couldn’t figure out how to work the bloody thing."
"What did you do then?"
"I didn’t know what to do. I really didn’t want anyone seeing me… abusing myself. I just wanted to get rid. It wasn’t funny anymore."
"You were never planning to post these, say, on The Internet?"
"Good God, no! I wouldn’t even know how."
"So what did you do?"
"Really stupid. I just chucked the camera in a bin. I thought – they’ll be insured. No loss."
"You didn’t know Douglas had seen you?"
"Of course not. If I’d known that little tow-rag was about… It’s not like I tried to sell it to him or anything. Do you believe me?"
Buster rubbed his chin. "As a matter of fact, I do. I hope I’m not going stupid my old age."
"So you’re not going to tell anyone."
"It’s not a crime to be stupid. I think that’s all you’ve been. The Farrahs are getting their camera back – without the smut-fest. No-one else need know. But I’m warning you – I’ll be keeping a very close eye on you from now on."
Sammy saw Buster to the door. "One last thing," said Buster. "You might consider getting some help. Try speaking to your doctor."
Sammy nodded and promised he would do that. After closing the door, he poured himself another very large scotch.
END OF EPISODE 15
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