‘I wandered lonely as a… erm stream?’ Ranulph Titcarpet waited. And waited. ‘Hello?’

The voice, when it came was familiar. ‘You want me?’

She’s not usually this tense, he thought. ‘All okay?’

‘Not really. But you don’t want to be burdened with my problems.’

‘No, it’s fine, go on.’

‘Sure?’

Ranulph was anything but sure, but his horoscope had said he needed to show more empathy – he’d had to look it up – so he nodded, certain that wherever she was right now, she could see him even if he couldn’t see her.

‘I’ve a new artist – called Martin – sees himself as a wannabe bard, whereas he’s good for a couple of sketchy haiku and the odd limerick. It’s not like there’s anything to work with and the drivel…’

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