The walk out of the fairy world was easier than the walk in, even though Ess couldn't get her thoughts straight, or even coherent, until she was a hundred yards away from the clump of trees. Oz sleepwalked behind her. When she could no longer feel the push from the invisible boundary she paused and turned to her friend.

"Oz? Oz!" She snapped her fingers in his face. Oz stared into his own private world through half-closed lids. She tapped his cheek, gently at first and then harder.

"Tired," said Oz, and started to sink to his knees.

"No, no, no, not here, Oz." She struggled to hold the big man upright. "Come on, let's get you into bed."

She half supported, half dragged the man across the park. It must have been a real number that bitch worked on him, for Oz to pass up on an opportunity to make double entendres about her getting him into bed. She recalled some of his other jokes. Perhaps double entendre was the wrong phrase. Oz was always more of a single entendre man. They reached the road and only then did she wonder how they were going to make it all the way to Balham.

Damn the expense. She flagged down a passing taxi. The driver pulled over to the kerb and eyed the pair suspiciously.

"I'm not driving him anywhere if he's going to upchuck in my cab, love. I can refuse carriage to drunks. And I don't get involved in any funny stuff."

"Oh no, he's not drunk, honest." Ess frowned. Funny stuff? What sort of thing did he mean? "My dad, um, he's on medication, that's all. Sometimes it takes him this way. I just need to get him back home."

"You sure? You don't want to go to A and E?"

"No, no, just home, that's all. Balham, that okay?"

The cabby sighed. "South of the river?" He looked at his watch. "Yeah, all right, but I mean it about him puking. The first sign and you're both in the gutter. Can you manage him all right?" He made no show of attempting to leave his cab.

"We're fine." Ess struggled with the door and poured the semi-conscious Oz into the back of the cab. As she strapped him into the seat the cabby looked over his shoulder and grinned. "Your dad, eh? Bloody good job you got your looks from your mum then."

Oz fell asleep as soon as the cab pulled away. Ess took his hand and patted it, shaking his arm and occasionally lifting his eyelid. She had no idea what she was looking for, but it's what they always did in the movies. Oz slept on. Despite her anxiety, a part of her wondered how upset he'd be to finally have his hand held by her, and be no position to capitalize on it.

"What's wrong with him?" asked the cabbie, throwing glances at them in his rear-view mirror. "Diabetes?"

"Um, yes?"

"Yeah, thought so. Brother-in-law's got that. Meant to watch what he eats, but you know how it is. Every minute they change their mind about what's good and what's going to kill you. Bloody doctors. They're just guessing most of the time. Turns out chocolate really might kill him, though. Daft bugger starves himself for weeks then pigs out, especially this time of year. Easter, see? Ended up in emergency twice now but he don't learn. Greedy bugger, see?" He looked in the rear-view mirror again. "You sure you don't want to go to Saint Bart's?"

"No, no, we're fine. This happens sometimes. He just needs to sleep for a while and he'll be right as rain."

The cabby shrugged. "You're the boss. Just don't let him die in my cab, okay? It's a bugger when a fare dies on board. Ties you up for hours, that does."

Ess wondered how many fares had passed on from this world in his cab. She shifted uncomfortably on her seat. Finally they arrived at Oz's apartment block. Ess paid off the cabby, who watched from the comfort of his cab as she hauled the sleeping Oz from the back.

"Ah, Titania," muttered Oz, wrapping his arms around Ess' neck as she half dragged, half supported him.

"You had better be asleep," she muttered as she struggled to get Oz to cooperate in the ascension of the stairs. "Because if you're taking advantage I shall hurt you in ways only a witch can." She paused at base camp on the landing. He wasn't asleep, not entirely. He would move his feet when you dragged him, and he supported half his weight. The problem was, even half of Oz was still more than an average man. She girded her loins, shoved her shoulder under Oz's and made the final ascent on the peak. At the door she leant him against the wall while she fished in her bag for the spare key he'd given her, then steered him into his bedroom. He hit the bed like a felled oak. Ess looked down at him and wondered if she should put him in the recovery position. The problem was, she'd need a block and tackle, and possibly a team of horses. She compromised by wedging a pillow under his head. He could remain fully clothed; she wasn't going down that path even if his life depended on it.

How long would he need to sleep? Hours? Days? Longer? Damn that cow. She could do without babysitting Oz. She pulled out her phone and looked at the time. Shades should be up by now. She dialled his number.

"Yes?" He didn't sound sleepy, but she'd seen him wake in an instant before.

"Sorry, did I wake you?"

"Ess? No. I had to get up anyway to answer the phone. What's up?"

"Funny man. Just ringing to let you know I won't be able to make it back before you leave, to save you hanging around doing nothing."

"Okay. It'll give me a chance to rummage through your underwear drawer undisturbed. Everything okay?"

"Yes, it's just Oz. He's a bit the worst for wear. I think I might have to stay the night to make sure he's okay."

"I've seen him drink. He must have drunk a bar dry to get in that state."

"Oh no, he's not drunk. It's, well, it's complicated."

"Oh God, you're leaving me for him, aren't you. I knew this day would come."

She laughed and left Oz's bedroom, though her laughter would hardly wake him in his comatose state.

"Idiot."

"Fine, he can have you, but I'm taking your underwear with me."

"Oh, they won't fit you. At least, I hope they won't. Besides, Oz would love that, me knickerless."

"Fair point. I'll leave the big ones. He's okay, though?"

"Yes, but I may have to stay the night."

"Jesus, I was joking about you leaving me for him."

She laughed. "It just means that we'll have to wait till Sunday to meet up. I'm working tomorrow evening. You still have a couple of days off?"

"Yeah. Is this about that case?"

She should tell him, she knew. No secrets, no lies, but then he would start worrying and telling her to be careful, and the next thing she'd know he would be trying to forbid her from doing man's work.

"I'll tell you about it later." And she would. After the case was closed, when it would be too late for him to boss her around.

They said their goodbyes and Ess surveyed Oz's cramped living room. It was a decent size for these sort of apartment blocks. It was only cramped because of the small library of books, manuals, files, folders and miscellaneous papers that covered every surface. In theory there was a couch she could camp out on, under the reference books. Only one cushion was visible, heavily indented. She lifted a pile of books from the opposite end and looked for a place to drop them. In the end she simply transferred them to the other end of the couch. At least she wouldn't be sitting in Oz's bum niche. Please Mother Gaia don't make it necessary for her to sleep on it for the night.

She wandered out into the kitchen and browsed the cupboards. Oz appeared to be as well acquainted with vegetables and vitamins as he was with political correctness and unicorns. If she was going to eat tonight it looked like it would have to be beans on toast. She eyed the half-loaf of bread sitting on the worktop. Or maybe just beans. No herbal teas, of course, but there was a packet of own-brand tea bags. She found a clean mug, but as she reached for it her eye fell on the half empty bottle of single malt next to it. She paused, struggled internally for a full half second, then grabbed the bottle. It was his own fault. The looks from the cabby, the ascent of the stairs without oxygen, the saving of his life, he owed her. And she hadn't managed to get a dress. Damn! That meant fighting the tourists tomorrow when Camden heaved with daytrippers. She poured a generous measure into the mug and retired to the living room. Bloody Oz. Bloody fairy bitch. If Oz was still asleep tomorrow, she'd go back to the park and drag her over here by the hair if necessary.

Oz had a TV, for research, he claimed. She looked for the remote, gave up and rose, negotiated the obstacle course to the set and switched it on manually. She detested TV, but what else was there to do? She took another generous swallow and made her way back to the couch. It was late afternoon, and the box displayed some inane children's puppet show. Changing channels would involve either tidying the room up just so she could ransack it again for the remote, or dodging perilously balanced piles of books to the TV again. She remained where she was, took another sip and as the liquor burnt its way down her throat she silently cursed fairies, Oz, daytime television and cabbies who thought she was up to funny stuff.