Lindsey Davis - Time to Depart

'Done up a bit? Petro squinted at me as if he had just caught me stealing wine jars from caupona counters. 'Will Smaractus invest in improvements?'

'No, but I'm determined to find another place for us, even if I have to renovate a wreck myself.'

'I've not heard about this!' said Helena, taking one of Petro's girls from me. The other scampered off to play on the balcony. 'Shouldn't I be the one to inspect the real estate?'

'And why can't you find another landlord?' Silvia put in.

I grinned at Helena. 'The person who needs to inspect it is the kind associate who will be helping me install the new windows and floorboards!'

'Forget it!' exclaimed Petro, looking appalled.

'You're a good carpenter.'

Helena laughed. 'And he was a good friend!'

'I'm going to have my hands full with this initiative against the Emporium thieves,' said Petronius firmly. Sometimes he would help out in my crazy schemes; sometimes he didn't want to know. I let it drop. He was too stubborn to change his mind.

'So why has our bijou tuche here lost its charm after so long?' Helena asked with the air of a Fury lightly fingering her scourge.

'I'm getting old. My legs are hating the stairs.' My beloved gave me a very sweet smile that meant I was toying with serious trouble.

'You should try it with three children hanging round your neck!' Silvia's remark was too close for comfort; I was dreading it with just one, particularly on Helena's behalf in the long months before our shrimp was born. I could alteady hear helpful relatives suggesting she should live somewhere more accessible, hoping that would be the first step to her leaving me for good.

Presumably Helena realised why I wanted a better billet. She leant back on her stool, cradling Tadia, and gave me a long stare. It was a challenge to tell Petro and Silvia the situation we were in. I returned the stare but stayed silent.

'Now doesn't Helena look good holding a baby!' Silvia rebuked me, clearly not even suspecting the truth. I had denied it to Petro, and he must have passed this on. Feeling mild pangs of guilt on his behalf, I condescended to survey Helena. She was wearing blue, with a tasteful row of bracelets covering her scarred arm, and silver earrings on which I had squandered a week's earnings one day in Palmyra just because I knew she was enjoying herself travelling the world with me. -

She did look good. She looked healthy, calm and sure of herself. As she gripped the child – who was trying to fling herself to the floor to see if landing hard on boards would hurt – Helena's big brown beautiful eyes sent me another dare.

I stayed calm. I never let Silvia see how much she annoyed me. And I tried not to let Helena discover how her challenges made me feel jittery. 'The first time I ever saw Helena she was holding a child.'

'I don't remember that.'

'The British procurator's daughter.'

'Oh, Aunt Camilla's eldest!' She did remember now; her blush told me. 'Flavia.'

'Flavia!' I agreed, grinning at her. I could see she had recalled the scene: a polite family group, educated after-dinner people discussing whether it might rain the next day, then I prowled in, newly landed in the province, flexing my class prejudice and intending to break bones if anyone offered me any pleasantries.

'What was he doing?' giggled Silvia.

'Scowling,' replied Helena patiently. 'He looked as if a Titan had just stepped on his foot and crushed his big toe. I was staying with nice people who had been very kind to me, then this hero turned up, like Milo of Croton looking for a tree to split with his fist. He was exhausted, miserable and exasperated by his work -'

'Sounds normal!'

'But he still managed to be rude to me.'

'The lout!'

'In a way that made me want to – '

'Go to bed with me?' I offered.

'Prove you wrong!' Helena roared, still hot-headed at the thought.

When I met her in Britain she had thoroughly overturned me: I had started out believing her stuck-up, strict, ill-humoured, uncharitable and untouchable; then I fell for her so hard I was barely able to believe my luck when she did go to bed with me.

'And what were you after, Falco?' Silvia was half hoping for a salacious answer.

I wanted Helena as my partner for life. That was too shocking to mention to a prim link piece like Silvia. I reached for the fruit bowl and savagely bit a pear.

'We're still waiting to hear about this task you two have for the Emperor!' Making Silvia change the subject was simplicity itself. If you ignored one remark she came out with something different. That did not mean you liked it better.

I saw Petro frown slightly. We both wanted to let things ride. We still had to manoeuvre for position, and we didn't need women helping us.

'Which of you is taking the lead in this venture?' Helena asked curiously. She could always find really awkward questions.

'I am,' said Petro.

'Excuse me!' I had wanted to sort this out privately with him, but we were now trapped. 'I work independently. I don't take orders from anyone.'

'I'm head of the special enquiry,' said Petro. 'You'll have to work with me.'

'My commission comes direct from Vespasian. He always gives me a free hand.'

'Not in my district.'

'I hadn't foreseen any conflict.'

'You hadn't been thinking then!' muttered Helena.

'There's no conflict,' Petronius said calmly.

'Oh no. It's all pretty clear. You intend to be planning the work, giving the orders and leading the team. That leaves me sweeping the office.'

Suddenly he grinned. 'Sounds fair – and I suppose you're competent!'

'I can wield a broom,' I agreed, though I was conceding nothing.

'We can work something out,' Petronius murmured airily. 'Oh we can operate in tandem. We've been friends for a long time.' That was why it was impossible for either of us to be in sole charge, of course. Helena had seen that immediately.

'Of course,' confirmed Petro, with the briefest of smiles. Nothing was settled, but we left it at that to avoid a furious argument

Fountain Court on a quiet October evening had its usual soiled and sultry charm. A faint pall of black smoke from the lampblack ovens drifted languidly five feet above the lane looking for passers-by with clean togas or tunics to smudge. Amidst its acrid tang lingered scents of sulphur from the laundry and rancid fat frying. Cassius the baker had been making veal pies earlier-with too much juniper by the smell. Above us people had hung bedding over their balconies, or sat there airing their fat backsides over a parapet while they shouted abuse at members of their family hidden indoors. Some idiot was hammering madly. A weary young girl staggered past us, almost unable to walk under the weight of the long garlands of flowers she had spent all day weaving for dinner parties in louche, wealthy homes.

A thin scruffy dog sat outside Lenia's, waiting for someone soft-hearted it could follow home.

'Don't look,' I commanded Helena. I took her hand as we crossed the dusty street to ask Cassius to give us the key to the empty apartment.

Cassius was a genial fellow, though be had never deigned to notice that Helena Justina was attached to me. He sold her loaves, at more or less reasonable prices; he chucked me the occasional stale roll while we swapped gossip. But even when Helena appeared in his shop with her noble fist grasped in mine, Cassius gave no acknowledgement that he was addressing a couple. He must regard us as unsuitable; well, he was not alone. I thought we were unsuitable myself – not that that would stop me.

'Ho, Falco!'

'Got the key for upstairs?'

'What idiot wants that?'

'Well, I'll have a look-'

'Hah!' chipped Cassius, as if had dared to suggest one of his whole grain crescent baps had a spot of mould.