Chapter 6

Later that night, Spike and Lynda were in the newsroom, going over Spike's feature.

"It's really not bad as it is," said Lynda. "If you ignore the atrocious spelling and hideous grammar."

"Thanks, Boss, that means a lot," Spike grinned.

Lynda finished marking up the draft and capped her red pen. "Well, that's me done. You just need to type it up and give it to Graphics tomorrow before final paste-up."

"Sure thing," Spike took the corrected paper and put it in his in-tray. "So, what are your plans for this evening?"

"Plans? Spike, it's 10.30. My plans involve a hot water bottle and bed."

"Sounds good to me," replied Spike, cheerfully. "When are we off?"

Lynda groaned. "Don't you ever stop?" she asked wearily.

"Nope. You should know that by now," Spike yawned and stretched and in doing so, noticed a light still shining from Colin's office. "Hey is Colin still here?"

"I don't think so," replied Lynda. "I haven't seen him since he left for the war memorial which, I must say, is one of the bigger surprises I've had this week."

"I'll go have a look," Spike rose and walked across the office, opening the door to the headquarters of CM Enterprises and going inside. The door swung shut behind him. After a second, Lynda heard Spike call out.

"Hey, Lynda! Open the door, it's deadlocked or something from the outside."

Lynda toyed briefly with the idea of letting him think she'd left the building but decided against it.

Opening the door she found Spike going through one of Colin's boxes.

"Look at this stuff. Can you believe what garbage he sells?"

"More to the point, can you believe people buy it?" countered Lynda, picking up one of the Rubber Relaxers from the desk.

"Don't let the door . . . !" Spike shouted but it was too late. The door slammed shut again. Lynda wrenched the handle without luck.

"Great. Now what?" She flopped onto Colin's desk.

"The back door!" Spike said in relief and opened the cupboard which concealed the secret way out of Colin's office. He rattled the doorknob inside.

"Damn! Locked too." He slammed the cupboard door in frustration.

Lynda took a seat on a box which had once contained green wigs and watched Spike pace in the confined space of the office.

"Can you sit down, please? You're making me giddy," she said after about ten minutes.

"Yeah? Well, I'm not really too fond of tight spaces," said Spike. "Particularly ones that are locked!"

"Someone will let us out," said Lynda calmly.

"When? Tomorrow morning?" Spike looked agitated. "I didn't exactly plan this, you know, otherwise I would have gone to the bathroom first!"

"Here," said Lynda, tossing him an empty can of Quilla. "I won't look."

Spike eyed the hole of the can speculatively for a moment and then threw it forcefully against the wall.

"Well, don't say I didn't try and help," shrugged Lynda.

"How can you be so calm about this? No food, no warmth, no . . . amenities?" Spike asked.

"I'm quite comfortable," Lynda replied, infuriatingly.

Spike sat heavily on a box and put his head in his hands. They sat there in silence for what seemed like an age when suddenly, there came a noise from inside the cupboard. Spike leapt up, threw open the doors and grabbed Colin by the back of the coat, whose flight instincts had already kicked in and had him steered away from danger.

"Colin! Never thought I'd say this, but am I glad to see you!" shouted Spike, enveloping Colin in a hug. "You've got the keys to the door?"

"Of course," said Colin, puzzled, holding them up. Spike snatched the keys, fumbled open the lock of the office door and raced in the direction of the staff toilets.

"Not a word about this to anyone, Colin," said Lynda warningly. "Or else I'll tell them all about your charity work and no-one will ever take you seriously as a wheeler and dealer again."

Colin gulped. "Understood, Lynda."