Cat on a Hot Tiled Roof by Anna Nicholas

wrapping.
    Â Â 'We will have a November launch for the Tribeca hotel,' Manuel is steely. 'And I expect you and Rachel to attend.'
    Â Â 'Of course, but is there any chance of it coinciding with the marathon? You remember I'm running in it?'
    Â Â He suddenly breaks into hysterical, manic laughter. 'Of course, woman. I've timed everything to coincide. The hotel launch will take place the day after the marathon. As far as that's concerned, you will run in under four hours and I will give you a donation of two thousand dollars.'
    Â Â 'In under four hours?'
    Â Â The Scotsman is thrusting his hand into the package. I jump up and down and shake my head, but he and Catalina are too engrossed.
    Â Â 'A second over and you fail me,' Manuel says darkly.
    Â Â Perhaps that's when he'll pull the gold Kalashnikov from the wall and finish me off.
    Â Â 'That's very generous of you, Manuel, but it's a bit of a tall order.'
    Â Â He is deadpan. 'I have made you my final offer. Tomorrow, I'll send you the hotel launch brief for your comments. Don't show anybody. Now I must go. Adios .'
    Â Â The line hums. He's gone. The man's a completely paranoid lunatic and now he's my client. Thanks a lot, Rachel. I drop the telephone onto the sofa.
    Â Â ' Ah!!!!! '
    Â Â It's too late. With fumbling, eager fingers, Alan has delved into the smaller cardboard box and with a sharp cry of surprise, pulled out his hand which in turn releases several wriggling worms. Catalina recoils in horror.
    Â Â 'I told you to wait. It's full of worms.'
    Â Â The two of them stare at me in disbelief.
    Â Â 'I can see that!' snaps the Scotsman. 'I thought it was a box of bulbs.'
    Â Â 'There are two thousand worms in there. It's a wormery.'
    Â Â Catalina pokes the soil inside the box. 'This is full of cuques ? Two thousand of them?'
    Â Â 'Well, so they say, but I'm not going to start counting.'
    Â Â Alan wipes his hands on his shorts, a troubled expression on his face.
    Â Â 'You could have warned us,' he mumbles.
    Â Â 'What is a wormery?' Catalina persists.
    Â Â 'I suppose you'd call it a Cuques Hotel in Catalan. It creates great compost.'
    Â Â Although somewhat shaken, Alan opens the larger box to reveal sections of wood ready for construction into a wormery. Having coped with the initial sensory shock of touching an untold number of squirming little bodies in the dark soil, he is clearly delighted with his new toy. He gives me a wry grin.
    Â Â 'Don't you ever spring a surprise like that on me again!'
    Â Â Remembering my towering, deformed muffins, I return to the kitchen and begin reviving the icing, which has become rigid. Adding some hot water from the kettle and some melted chocolate, I whip it up and hurriedly spread it over the muffins. The hot mixture dribbles down the sides of the cakes, but I pay no heed. With a flourish I take our various small packets of brightly coloured sugar and chocolate decorations and sprinkle them over the tops. Catalina is suddenly at my side, clucking. 'I never see a worm hotel before. My father won't believe his eyes.'
    Â Â She studies the trays of muffins. 'You have so many.'
    Â Â 'Well, I've made some for Margalida too. She has a sweet tooth.'
    Â Â Alan walks into the kitchen and winces at the gaudy home bakes.
    Â Â 'What on earth are those supposed to be?'
    Â Â 'Monster muffins. Didn't you know, they're the latest vogue in home bakes?'

    The small huddle of men standing around the wooden wormery are deep in discussion. Catalina's father, Paco, dressed in old cords and checked shirt, squats at the side of its legs and pulls out the bottom tray on which some loose soil sits. Miquel, our young taciturn siquier, the town's irrigator, lifts off the lid and examines the squirming worms inside.
    Â Â 'They are British worms?' he asks suspiciously.
    Â Â 'Through and through,' replies Alan.
    Â Â Miquel shrugs a little