She watched as his panic quickly betrayed him and his thoughts slowly travelled across his face on the sea of confusion that had just been delivered. Now she'd have to wait patiently for his ship to land in port having successfully navigated choppy waters and deliver his important cargo to her safe and sound. It might have been quicker to have sent the return message in a bottle if truth be told.
He stood fidgeting like a 6ft 1” man child having to wear an itchy new school jumper on the first day back after the summer holidays. Although he appeared to her trained eye to at least be undergoing a great deal of deliberation. Those seas won't be sailed without a strong captain at the wheel of the ship, pull yourself together man, lives are depending on you here. To the untrained eye you might have thought he was simply desperate to relieve his bladder.
Finally he spoke. Her eyebrows foolishly raising in a climax of anticipation…
“Well,” was the only word that parted from his lips which he now licked and made a motioning with his mouth that suggested he may have been a cow in a past life. She thought about saying aloud that she would be better if he got on with answering her question, however he wouldn't have gotten the sarcasm and she'd have been back at square one. Instead she stayed silent, eyebrows returned to their default setting merely waiting patiently like all good Brits who've all spent a large part of their lifetime in orderly queues for their turn to arrive. Finally he seemed ready. She looked hopefully at him again with expectation, though not as great as Pip in the classic Charles Dickens novel. But still the words failed to arrive. It reminded her of being a child at Christmas waiting for Santa to arrive. ‘Has he been yet?’ she'd ask every morning only to be told that it was still only the start of December and she'd have to wait until the 25th, although she had no comprehension of what the 25th meant, just that, would it mind hurrying up a bit because she was growing tired and impatient as all children do when forced to wait for anything for anything longer than five minutes. Maybe stomping her feet might help the situation? Probably no more than it ever did back in her childhood. A large sigh slipped from her lips too quickly for her to have noticed its arrival and departure. Oh bugger, was all she could now think to herself. It was a term she'd learnt inadvertently from her late Grandmother not long after she'd learned her first words and it had taken her parents much bribery on their parts to stop her using it, which she had done, frequently to their utter dismay and her grandmother's eternal shame. Once the genie is out of the bottle it doesn't want to be put back in. By some minor miracle the sigh did seem to have a positive effect on his thought process and sped it up sufficiently for him to say “I'm not sure it's my turn to decide.”
“Jesus Christ Henry, why are all you men so sodding useless and non-committal about absolutely everything? This isn't a court of law, what you say won't be taken down and possibly used against you as evidence in a court of law.” It appears her patience had worn thin quicker than cheap underlay that fell off the back of a lorry somewhere along the M25.
Rather stupidly on his part, that clearly tickled him and he started to chuckle and stopped suddenly like the emergency brake had been applied upon seeing her face was one of classic British royalty which shouted back at him ‘we are not amused.’ Oh bollocks he thought to himself. Not taught to him inadvertently by his grandmother, just picked up in the school playgrounds sometime during his own childhood or maybe at home from his old man, it never dawned on him that it might be important to establish the roots of his own somewhat limited vocabulary. Suddenly he was back chewing the cud which wasn't helping his cause any.
The first of his next mistakes was to look at her and wonder if he'd ever seen her looking so cross. Wasting time was not a good idea. British patience is only good for queues, in one on one situations you were against the clock and Henry's ship was sinking. His next bad move was to try steer his ship away from the iceberg named Hannah in case she swung for him or went for the Crown Jewels. You silly, silly boy Henry…
“Oi! Did you just take a step back because you're worried I'm going to go for you?”
“No,” he said lying and making his next wrong move.
“You fucking muggy little cunt” came the reply that would have made even a stone blush. Before he could react the bull charged forward and had rammed the flat palms of her fists into his chest and cleared both lungs clear of all air.
“Next time I suggest you take two fucking steps back and make your fucking mind up when I ask you what you want to eat for dinner.”
It's safe to say if her grandmother's watching down from above now she's making it well known to anyone with her that she hadn't been the one to have taught her that at any stage.
“I'm hungry Henry, and the babies hungry!” She tells him in no uncertain terms now stood over him where he's been reduced to his knees desperately trying to catch his breath back. He looks up to see her now putting her hands to better use as far as he's concerned and is stroking her large bump.
“Pizza?” comes his reply finally as he wonders whether an attack to the crown jewels wouldn't have been the better option if it meant not ever putting her back in the club again.
“Ohhh, the baby kicked I think that's a yes.”
“Great,” he said followed by a deep breath in. “Any idea where my car keys are?”
Oh Henry, you silly, silly boy…
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