A Good Curry

At the top of the stairs was a short landing with three doors off and a small window set into the front of the hose, slightly open to allow the evening air to filter in. The scent of jasmine and lavender from the garden below brought a contrast to the darkness and misery of the house, a contrast we were all a little grateful for.

"According to the model," I said, "these should be two bedrooms, a bathroom and the stairs to the attic. I think I can guess where our wannabe wizard is going to be holed up and it's not in the bathroom"

"An attic makes a nice change from a cellar," said Meinwen. "Though my brother always wanted a dungeon himself."

"What, for sado-masochistic sex?"

"No, for his role playing games. The pub kicked him out for waving his rubber sword about."

"Ah! Sniff that" Winston held his head near the window, his eyes closed. "Beautiful, that is."

"The jasmine?" Meinwen smiled and closed her eyes as well. "It reminds me of the woods at night. There's wild jasmine all over the path near Park Road."

"Nah, love. The curry. That's the Kapoor Curry house on Paget Road. I've not had any dinner yet." His stomach rumbled to prove the point.

"Neither have any of us," I said. "Though I'll join you in a Dachshund Vindaloo when we finish up here."

"Sure." Winston grinned.

"They don't really make curry out of dachshunds, do they?" said Meinwen.

Winston laughed and nudged her with his elbow. "Nah," he said. "You really are gullible sometimes."

"Yes," I said. "Dachshunds are tiny. They prefer Labradors or German Shepherds."