Suit and Tie

"Is it drugs?"

I'd done my best to end all contact with my old drinking mates, never ringing them, not answering calls, making up stupid excuses for not going out, so here was Andy on my doorstep, demanding to know if it was drugs.

"Come in," I said. "Fancy a beer?"

"Yeah, cheers."

I found a can of lager at the back of the fridge and opened a can of bitter for myself.

Andy sat on the edge of my couch, looking unsettled. He was usually the most laid-back of blokes, but not today.

"Ian's gone all Noel Coward on us," he said. "He's suddenly got thin and pale. He called me 'dear boy' last time I saw him. What's wrong with him?"

I knew exactly what was wrong with Ian, but thought it best that Andy didn't know. What to tell him?

"There's nothing wrong with Ian that either of us can do anything about. He's happy in his own way."

"Has he gone vegetarian?"

That made me smile. It could not have been a pleasant smile, because I saw a brief look of alarm cross Andy's face.

"I don't think so. Andy, you're a great lad, but I think it's best if you keep away from Ian, and from me. We're into stuff that would not interest you and," How could I put it? "Dangerous stuff. The less you know about it the better."

Andy never seemed to have heard the expression, "curiosity killed the cat", or to be aware that I was seriously trying to warn him off. He could not believe that I was up to anything illegal or dangerous.

"Is it anything to do with that bossy bitch at Ian's party? That, er, Carmilla?"

At the mention of Carmilla's name, my heart beat faster and I felf slightly sick. I thought about what was buried in my back garden. I could feel myself sweating.

"Are you all right?" asked Andy. "And come to think of it, what's with the suit and tie? You've been a scruff all the years I've known you."

"It's for my new job. I have to be presentable for that."

"Oh? What is it? Who you working for?"

"Romania Import-Export Limited. I'm Carmilla Smith's personal assistant."

Andy laughed. He was genuinely surprised.

"Of all the jobs you've had, that's the weirdest. What are you import-exporting? Drugs? Porn? Terrorist requisites?"

"Antiques, manufactured goods and agricultural products," I said. "All strictly above board and legitimate."

"But is Carmilla why you've changed? Why you don't want to see your old mates? Are you and Carmilla," He gestured with his hands. "Making the beast with two backs?"

Usually, I'm placid, verging on the comatose, but his suggestion angered me.

"Mrs. Smith and I have a purely business relationship. To tell you the truth," I lied, "I've moved up in the world, Ian's moved up in the world, and we no longer wish to be associated with low-life losers like you or the rest of the scum we used to drink with. Get this through your stupid head, we're too good for you. Forget you ever knew either of us. And keep away from Carmilla."

Andy shook his head and gave a short laugh.

"Is this April First? Or are you really on drugs?" He took a swig of his drink. "I think I'd better go. See you when you've calmed down. Probably."

At three a. m. I met Carmilla to bring her up to date on the day's business. It was the part of the night I most looked forward to and most feared.

"You had a visitor at your home," she said.

"Yes." I wanted to choose my words carefully, to keep myself safe, Andy safe, and Carmilla safe from harm.

"What did you tell him?" Her beautiful, dark eyes were staring at me as if they could see my soul, if I had such a thing.

"As little as possible."

"Good." She looked away.

Part of my mind screamed, "Look at me!" but I knew it was just being silly. Instead, I said, "The antique gold coffins have arrived at Heathrow."

"With the soil?"

"Yes."

In the early hours of the following morning, I was taking a shortcut down a dark alley, when something large leapt from one roof to another. It scuttled rapidly down a vertical wall and leapt in front of me, one arm raised dramatically in front of its face.

"Ian?"

"No!" Andy lowered his arm and bared his teeth. "It is I!" He had managed to find a red-lined opera cloak from somewhere.

"Thank you for trying to save my immortal soul," he said. "You are lucky to be Carmilla's creature, for you need not die or become such as I while she finds you useful. See ya."

He ran at the nearest wall, scurried up it and disappeared over the edge of the roof.

"Personal assistant," I said softly. "Not creature, personal assistant."