A book of silences

Chapter ten - things to do with bull semen.

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"Has anyone moved my bull semen?"

The Adams Family were sprawled around in Bev's space, pretending to look at her latest work-in-progress and drinking coffee. In reality, they were all still in shock about what had happened in Cats' studio two nights before.

"Nah," said Bev, not looking away from her painting.

"Never touch the stuff," said Bee with a shudder. Cat merely shook her head.

A slim young woman with long, straight, very red hair and a pale complexion stepped between the friends and Bev's painting. She was wearing a floaty petticoat and an oversized men's cotton shirt. Large black combat boots could be seen poking out from under her skirt. "It's just that I left it here on the floor, and it's been moved. Well, actually it's been tidied up!" She suddenly pointed to a large jar filled with a frothy, grey-white liquid on the top shelf of her bookcase. "There it is!"

As one the Adams family turned to look at Rose. She snorted. "Yes, yes, I know none of you would do anything as weird as tidying something up." (There was an involuntary half-glance at Cat). "But have you seen anyone in here?"

"What, like a cleaner?" There was a laugh from everyone this time; the school had fired its regular cleaners last year and now relied upon a raggle-taggle group of once-a-week contract cleaners. These seemed to spend most of their time gossiping in corners, smoking dope and re-arranging the dirt in the workshop corridors with soiled mops. All the admin areas were scrupulously clean however, so there were no complaints.

"Well, what with that prowler still around you can't be too careful," continued Rose.

Bee glanced around at the studio they were in, then looked at Bev. "You know, for your space, this is remarkably tidy. Look, your brushes are in a pot." She pointed. "And you've lined up your tubes of paint!"

They all looked. True enough, Bev's corner of the studio, which was normally overflowing with dirty paint palettes, rags and open sketch books, was reasonably tidy. "Your cleaning rags are in a pile, and you've stacked your paint trays. And your sketch books are in the bookcase," added Cat.

"Yeah," said Rose, nodding in agreement. "I've noticed it's been getting tidier in here for a week or so. That's why I thought it might have been one of you."

There were denials all around, and Rose wandered back to her corner of the studio where she was working on something involving dead bees, bricks and lead seals; what the big jar of bull semen that sat fermenting on her shelf was for no-one really knew (or wanted to ask); they merely hoped she never opened it when they were nearby. Bee regarded her retreating back with a puzzled look on her face and shook her head. "For all that she looks like a poster-girl for the pre-Raphaelites, Rose is a pretty weird kid."

There were grunts of agreement from the others. "But she's right, you know, this place is a bit tidy for you Bev. Have you been cleaning up a bit?" Bee's voice took on a wheedling tone. "Perhaps for a certain security guard? One with a big, big walkie-talkie that's not working too well." She opened her eyes wide and said in a breathy voice, "Maybe he needs a hand with his broken transmitter?"

Bev looked a bit like a possum caught in headlights, glancing around for an escape route. "Er, well, it was only a drink!"

Bee snorted noisily into her coffee but was ignored.

"You went out with Joey?" asked Cat incredulously. "And you didn't tell me?"

"Well yeah, he was waiting for me one evening, and insisted he accompany me to the student bar 'for safety'." She looked a little concerned. "Cat, I know you like him, but ..."