MORNING SERIAL

HE had it all mapped out in his head. It was going to be like one of those adventure books they had in the school library, where children can be heroes and can change things for real.

“It’s a five-stage plan,” said Pigeon to Iola like James Bond.

He communicated the plan to Iola between cigarettes – puffing and coughing and exhaling clouds of smoke into the cobwebbed air of the attic: First. Pre-pa-ra-tion. They would need: a walkie talkie. A copy of the plan each (not to be forgotten or lost). And lots of practice. Second. Dis-trac-tion. Iola was to feign an allergic reaction to the ice cream. It was like they’d seen on TV. What happened to some people when they ate peanuts. For some people, when they ate peanuts they swelled up, couldn’t breathe, turned red, shook like a storm. Iola was to hold her breath and shiver all over. So that… Third. In-fil-tra-tion. While everyone was distracted by Iola, Pigeon was to get in the van to spy on Gwyn. “But…” said Iola. “But…” Pigeon swatted her doubts away with more smoke. Fourth. Comm-un-i-ca-tion. Pigeon was to contact Iola from the van, and inform her of Gwyn’s mis-de-mean-ours. i.e. what exactly it was Gwyn was doing wrong.

“What is he doing wrong?” asked Iola at this point.

Pigeon looked at her in disbelief “Do you really have to ask?” he said.

She shook her head. Of course not. Of course she didn’t. Fifth. Chase. Iola, police in tow, was to chase Gwyn down. “But,” she said. “How come?” “How come what?” “How come the police are there?” “You phone them, silly.” “O,” she said. She looked doubtful.

Sixth. Inevitable success and locking up of the villain.

They were both happy with that.

The only trouble, was that Iola seemed unable, quite…

First. To understand what an allergic reaction really involved, and…

Second. To remember with any reliability the exact order of the plan.

But still.