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。 He was making more than a three…course meal out of the prospect of a bit of spade work and he knew it。 Hopefully； a few digs at the thing and it would simply crumble to dust。 At worst； a blow or two from the pickaxe would hasten the action。 With all the millions to be made from Norman's wheel a few meagre pennies for a buried bedframe seemed hardly worth the candle。
Pooley slouched through the allotment gates and off up Albany Road； the spade raising a fine shower of sparks along the pavement behind him。 He turned into Abaddon Street and confronted the high fence of planking shielding the empty bombsite。 With a heartfelt sigh Jim slid aside the hanging board which camouflaged the secret entrance； and climbed through the gap； backwards。
An ill…considered move upon his part。 With a sudden strangled cry of horror Pooley vanished away through the gap。 Omally's spade spun away from his fingers and tumbled downwards towards oblivion。 By the happiest of chances Jim maintained his grip upon the pickaxe； whose head now jammed itself firmly across the gap。 Where once there had been well…trodden ground； now there was plete and utter nothing。 The bomb…site had simply ceased to exist。 Jim was swinging precariously by a pickaxe handle over the sheer edge of a very very large pit indeed。 It was the big daddy of them all； and as Jim turned terrified eyes down to squint between his dangling feet； he had the distinct impression that he was staring into the black void of space。
'Help！' wailed Jim Pooley； who was never slow on the uptake when he discovered his life to be in jeopardy。 'Fallen man here； not waving； but drowning。。。 HELP！' Jim swung desperate feet towards the wall of the chasm； his hobnails scratched and scrabbled at the sheer cliff face but failed to find a purchase。 'Oh woe；' said Jim。 'Oh； help！'
A sickening report above drew Jim's attention。 It seemed that the elderly head of Omally's pickaxe was debating as to whether this would be as good a time as any to part pany with its similarly aged shaft。 'Oooooooh noooo！' shrieked Jim as he sank a couple of inches nearer to kingdom…e。 Pooley closed his eyes and made what preparations he could； given so little time； to meet his Maker。 Another loud crack above informed Jim that the pickaxe had made up his mind。 The handle snapped away from the shaft and Jim was gone。
Or at least he most definitely would have been； had not a pair of muscular hands caught at his trailing arms and drawn him aloft； rending away his tweedy jacket sleeves from both armpits。 A white…faced and gibbering Jim Pooley was dragged out through the gap in the fencing and deposited in a tangled heap upon the pavement。
'You are trespassing；' said a voice somewhere above him。 'These are your jacket sleeves； I believe。'
Jim squinted up painfully from his pavement repose。 Above him stood as pleasant a looking angel of deliverance as might be imagined。 He was tall and pale； with a shock of black hair bed away behind his ears。 His eyes were of darkest jet； as was his immaculate one…piece coverall work suit。 He wore a pair of miniscule headphones which he now pushed back from his ears。 Jim could hear the tinkling of fairy…like music issuing from them。
'I was passing and I heard your cries；' the young man explained。 'You were trespassing you know。'
Jim climbed gracelessly to his feet and patted the dust from what was left of his jacket。 He accepted the sleeves from the young man and stuffed them into a trouser pocket。 'Sorry；' said he。 'I had no idea。 My thanks； sir； for saving my life。'
'It is no matter；' said the young man。 'Had you fallen you might have damaged some valuable equipment。'
'Oh； thanks very much。'
'It is no matter。 This site has been acquired and excavated for a new plex to be built。 Lateinos and Romiith Limited。'
'Oh； those lads。' Pooley blew on to the scorched palms of his hands。 The 'Acquired for Lateinos and Romiith' signs had been blossoming upon all manner of vacant plots in Brentford recently； and the black…glazed plexes had been springing up overnight； like dark mushrooms。 Exactly who Lateinos and Romiith were； nobody actually knew； but that they were very big in puters was hinted at。 'Don't let the marker posts on your allotment fall down；' folks said； 'or the buggers will stick a unit on it。'
'Well again； my thanks；' said Jim。 'I suppose you didn't see anything of an old bedframe while your lads were doing the excavations？'
'Bedframe？' The young man suddenly looked very suspicious indeed。
'Well； never mind。 Listen； if you are ever in the Swan I would be glad to stand you a pint or two。 Not only did you save my life but you saved me a good deal of unnecessary labour。' Pooley made as to doff his cap； but it was now many hundreds of feet beneath his reach。 Cursing silently at Omally； he said； 'Thank you； then； and farewell。' Snatching up Omally's pickaxe head； he shambled away down Abaddon Street leaving the young man staring after him wearing a more than baffled expression。
Jim thought it best to return Omally's axe…head at once to his allotment shed before any more harm could e to it。 He also thought it best not to mention the matter of the spade； which having been one of Omally's latest acquisitions was something of a favourite with him。 Possibly then； it would be a good idea to slip around to Norman's and stick his nose once more against the kitchenette window。
As Jim came striding over the allotment ground； pickaxe head over shoulder and 'Whistle while you Work' doing that very thing from between his lips； he was more than a little surprised to discover Omally in his shirt…sleeves； bent over the zinc water…butt； dabbing at his tender places。 'John？' said Jim。
Omally looked up fearfully at the sounds of Jim's approach。 His right eye appeared to have a Victoria plum growing out of it。 'Jim；' said John。
'You have been in a fight。'
'Astute as ever I see。'
'Outnumbered？ How many of them； three； four？'
'Just the one。'
'Not from around these parts then。 Circus strongman was it？ Sumo wrestler？ Surely not。。。' Pooley crossed himself； 'Count Dante himself？'
'Close；' said Omally； feeling at his jaw； which had developed a most alarming click。 'Corner…shopkeeper； actually。'
Pooley hastily secreted the pickaxe head behind his back； turned over a handy bucket； and sat upon it。 'Not Norman？ You jest； surely？'
'Look at my shirt…collar。' Omally waggled the frayed relic which now hung over his shoulder； college scarf fashion。
'Aren't they supposed to be sewn on all the way round？'
'I will punish him severely for this。'
'You fancy your chances at a rematch then？'
Omally shook his head painfully and whistled。 'Not I。 Certainly the man has been personally schooled in the brutal； maiming； disfiguring art of Dimac by none other than that very Grand Master of the craft to whom you formerly alluded。'
'Gosh；' said Jim。
'I will have him down from a distance when he es out to take in his milk tomorrow。'
'The half…brick？'
'Nothing less。 I feel that we can forget all about ever…spinning wheels for the time being。 Still all is not yet lost。 How did you fare with the bed？' Omally peered over Jim's shoulder。 'Got it locked away somewhere safe then？'
Pooley scraped his heels in the dust。
'What have you done with the bed； Jim； and where are the sleeves of your jacket？'
'Ah；' said Jim； 'ah now。'
7
Norman sat in his kitchenette； dismally regarding the slim brass wheel spinning once more upon its table…top mountings。 Over in the corner alcove his other self sat lifeless and staring； a gaping hole in its chest。 Norman swung his leg over the kitchen chair and leaned his arms upon its worm…eaten back。 The first run had not been altogether a roaring success。 If Omally's bike had not chosen to intervene and trip the robot into the street； there seemed little doubt that it would have killed Omally there and then； merely to retrieve the tobacco from his pocket。
Norman chewed upon his lip。 It was a regular Frankenstein's monster； that one。 Not what he'd had in mind at all。 Placid pseudo…shopkeeper he wanted； not psychotic android on the rampage。 He would have to disconnect all the Dimac circuits and pep up the old goodwill…to…mankind modules。 Possibly it was simply the case that the robot had been a little over…enthusiastic。 After all； it had had his interests at heart。 Norman shuddered。 Omally had got away with the tobacco； and Hairy Dave had charged him fifty quid to shore up the front of the shop and screw a temporary door into the splintered frame。 The robot had not been in service more than a couple of hours and it was already bankrupting him。 Fifty quid for a half…ounce of Golden。 And what if Omally decided to sue or； more likely； to exact revenge。 It didn't bear thinking of。 He would have to go round to the Swan later and apologize； stand Omally a few pints of consolation。 More expense。 The harassed shopkeeper climbed from his chair and sought out a quart of home…made sprout wine from the bottle…rack beneath the sink。
At length the Memorial Library clock chimed five…thirty p。m。 in the distance； and upon the Swan's doorstep stood two bedraggled figures who； like Norman； had the drowning of their sorrows very much to the forefronts of their respective minds。 Neville the part…time barman drew the polished bolts and swung open the famous door。
'By Magog！' said the pagan barkeep。 'Whatever has happened to you two？ Should I call an ambulance？'
Pooley shook his head。 'Merely draw the ales。'
With many a backwards glance； Neville lumbered heavily away to the pumps。 'But what has happened to you both？ Your eye； John？ And Jim； your sleeves？' Neville pushed two brimming pints across the counter towards the straining hands of his two patrons。
'We were mugged；' said Omally； who was finding it hard to e to terms with the concept of defeat at the hands of a humble shopkeeper。
'Ten of them；' Pooley added。 He had once read of a mugger's victim being carried into a pub and revived with free ale。
Neville had also read of it and took up a glass to polish。 'We live in troubled times；' he said profoundly。 'Ten and six please。'
Omally drew his boot away from his bruised ankle and pulled out several pound notes。 Neville； who had never before seen the Irishman handling paper money in public； was anxious to see if they were the real McCoy。 The wrinkled relic John handed him smelt a bit pony； but it did have a watermark。 Neville rang up 'No Sale' and obligingly short…changed his customer。 Omally slung the pennies into his trouser pocket without even checking them。
'Mugged then is it？' Neville almost felt guilty。 'Did you best the villains？'
'Did we？' Pooley raised his scorched palm and made chopping movements。 'The blackguards will think twice about molesting the folk of Brentford again I can tell you。'
'I see Norman is having his shopfront done up；' said Old Pete； who had sneaked in hard upon the heels of the two warriors。
Omally spluttered into his beer。 'Is that a fact？' said he。
'Had his shopfront mugged so I hear。'
'Give that gentleman a large dark rum；' said Omally。
The ancient accepted his prize and slunk away to a side…table with much malicious chuckling。 Omally grudgingly paid up and joined Pooley； who had taken to hiding in a suitably darkened corner。
'I shan't be able to live with this；' said John； seating himself。 'That old one knows already； it will be all over the parish by morning。'
'But Norman？' said Pooley。 'I still can't quite believe it。 Norman wouldn't hurt a spider； and by God his shop gives lodging to enough。'
'A lover of the insect kingdom he may be； but let humankind beware。 The shopkeeper has finally lost his marbles。 He took it out on me as though violence was going out of fashion。'
Jim sighed。 'This is a day I should certainly choose to forget。 We have both paid dearly for our greed。'
John nodded thoughtfully。 'I suppose there are lessons to be learned from it。 We have certainly learned ours the hard way。'
'Talking of lessons； I think your homework has just arrived。' Jim pointed over Omally's shoulder to where Norman now stood squinting about the bar。
John sank low in his high…backed chair。 'Has he seen me？' he whispered。
Pooley nodded。 'I'm afraid so； he's ing over。'