Kenny, whose ancestors came from the ‘old country’, stayed with the Studds when he crossed the Atlantic. His Hell’s Angels leathers caused a stir amongst Zeno’s lofty neighbours, but the disapproving glances were a small price for the pleasure of Kenny’s company, which Zeno enjoyed greatly.

As he dressed, Zeno looked out at the one blot on his day—the Victorian chimney-stack which rose over a hundred and fifty feet into the air, the property of St Mary Abbot’s Hospital in the Marloes Road. It was visible from every front window in the Studd house. This chimney, stoutly constructed from Victorian bricks, was not in itself an eyesore—but its top was. Instead of being finished with the expected nineteenth-century flourish, it narrowed into a wimpy inner rim.

Zeno grinned as he remembered the afternoon he and Kenny had smoked a joint and devised a plan to transform that eyesore into a National Monument.

Kenny had noticed that the chimney was having its annual facelift and that at least half of its height was sheathed in scaffold. He examined it through Zeno’s telescope and discovered a series of iron rungs built into the brick that began where the scaffolding ended. They formed an escalade to the top.

The next day, Zeno was woken by Mr Wisdom who had already scaled the smokestack and brought back measurements to start work on the transformation. A model of the proposed construction was put together by tea-time. By the weekend, the construction proper began. Zeno, however, had been unable to overcome his fear of heights, and Kenny, who could easily have completed the job alone, protested that he could not, and would not, undertake the installation without Zeno accompanying him.

“It’s no fun climbing a mountain alone,” he said.

Kenny Wisdom was his father’s son, a man’s man who could macho most guys into doing anything he wanted. But not this time.

Zeno always kicked himself for not taking on the job. The neat jigsaw of plywood components remained stacked in Zeno’s cellar.

He selected several cookies from his daughter’s biscuit tin for a walking breakfast. But as he was replacing the lid, he had the uneasy feeling that someone was watching him through it, as if it were a two-way mirror. He hastily replaced the tin on the shelf, pocketed the cookies, grabbed a few nuts, and made his way onto the street, where the tarmac was already hot.

*

In spite of the fact that Prudence had not worn the black dress, she drew many glances from other shoppers, both male and female. Not being a morning person she was unaware of all the looks. However, not too much escaped her daughter, who was.

Prudence had wanted to hit the latest fave rave coffee shop first for a kick-start cappuccino before tackling the week’s shopping. Zen’s plan, on the other hand, was to complete her shopping before the checkout queues became long and boring, and hit the coffee shop when the task was completed.