The polite round eye policeman was back. Camellia glanced up from deadheading the rose bush and waited. He tipped his hat to her and waited by the gate. Camellia smiled at him when he looked back. Last time he had strolled over to the orchids and revealed his horticultural knowledge. She could tell a fellow gardening enthusiast a mile away by the way they observed foliage, reached their fingertips out to nature, rustle a frond against their skin. D.I. Robinson loved an orchid and she was charmed by his interest, radiating keenly over the bamboo fence.

This particular specimen she was handling was the magnificent Black Boy rose, a particular favourite of Jack's, his ex-wife's and curiously, Dr MacMillan who coaxed and cherished the decadent velvety wine petals like a stack of pearls. She had them growing around the door to her cottage. During his long and painful breakup in which Rosie had wiped the floor with him, Jack had spent many spare moments in the soothing company of his favourite bolshie and unpretentious female. They'd downed many bottles of whiskey, listened morosely to the gramophone, swayed to the music, and cooked dinner together, sharing splinters of themselves that they wouldn't do with just anyone. Both early risers, he was always welcome to journey over and share a spot of breakfast. Jack felt more like himself with her than with anyone. All the ingredients for a splendid match and no inclination to match up. He told her about the Chinese man whom he had mistaken for an opium dealer. How he had to lose face by apologising for arresting an innocent man. Lin Chung was elegantly scornful but gracious, uncommon qualities that Jack hadn't seen much of before. It intrigued him.

Lin carelessly invited him to the shop, to see the bolts of fabric and feel the sheen at his fingertips.

'Perhaps some silk for a lady. You have a lady in mind?'

Jack nodded. He did have a lady in mind. Not quite the one that Lin was thinking of and the choice his guest made had surprised him. What could he be thinking of to choose such a piece? It was only fit for a set of fancy handkerchiefs.

Mac whistled in appreciation when he brought her a wad of burgundy silk, sinuously flecked with gold, to be made up at the tailors for a truly opulent cravat. It was a running joke that he didn't trust a man in a cravat. But, as Mac pointed out, he never said anything about women in cravats. So he had to put up with hers. He'd already made the mistake of assuming that she had an errant lover the first time he visited her cottage, by the amount of cravats she had lying about.

'Well I do. Sometimes' she told him bluntly. Didn't elaborate further. He grumbled that men in cravats were a flashy lot and he didn't tend to trust them.

'Me neither. Not my type.'

It had taken him a while to realise what she meant. He'd never knowingly met one of those women before. But damn, they appreciated fine whiskey and disdained small talk and if that meant hobnobbing with a pack of them, he would do it.

He had brought Mac back a fine rose.

'Home from home' she said and sniffed in wary delight.

'Mr Lin's wife has quite a garden' he informed her.

'I bet you're itching to take some cuttings. Is that why you go around there so often? To look at the pretty garden and the pretty lady?' She asked caustically.

'His wife is charming. But I have become pleasantly acquainted with Mr Lin. He is very good company.'

Mac looked over at him, thinking him still unaware of what the attraction might be. Lin Chung was erudite, suave and cultured. He was introducing Jack to some sophisticated and foreign things. Many might call Lin a noble savage but then they weren't the people you wanted to acknowledge in the street. Mac thought he sounded intriguing.

'Anyway, I don't have room to plant cuttings' her friend informed her and took his leave. Mac watched his retreating back with narrowed eyes. True, his spartan lodgings didn't stretch to a garden. His landlady was generous but strict and she did not have a garden. That was what he escaped to Mac's cottage for.

Lin praised his wife daily, for her care and wisdom, for observing and keeping their secrets. She could see the interest the steadfast policeman had for Lin and made sure that he was made comfortable in their home. This was not the kind of concubine she was expecting her husband to attract but when he brought his friend the doctor for dinner one night, she put aside any expectation of conventionality. Lin blinked in surprise; the burgundy silk was nestled becomingly at the doctor's throat.

'A fine piece' he observed. 'Jack has good taste.'

'Of course he does. He's friends with me, isn't he?'

Camellia and Lin smiled in unison, they could see that they would be in for an entertaining evening. They'd never met a woman quite like the doctor. She took an interest in open minded discussion, savoured the food with vigour and listened with interest at such heathen topics like alternative medicines.

After an offer to take them to the theatre, Mac decided that she certainly had room in her life for a few more friends. She nudged Jack's foot under the table.

'Keep him' she mouthed, amused by Jack's glare. He didn't want to look opportunistic.

More and more he started joining Camellia in the garden. They talked over seeds and saplings, planned spots to plant and when they looked up and saw Lin waving at them from the top window, only Camellia realised at the time that it was for both of them.

When Jack and Lin had finally started to closest themselves in the spare room, Camellia made sure that there were refreshments on the table outside and then her time was her own. Never had a wife had so much spare time! She could do some gardening or go for a short outing to the shops or someone's house. Even enjoy the company of her new friend, the doctor who was quite the adept card player.

Her husband always did like the good things in life.