We settle down on the settee. The best part of the evening begins.
Watching Coronation Street.
I know it’s sad but we’re like millions of others, we don’t get out much.
She suddenly lurches towards me and her hand pinches my thigh.
I cry in pain. “What you doing?”
Turning her back towards me she says, “Quick, left blade”.
Turning back to watch the final of Coronation Street, I start to scratch in the general area of her back.
“Left a bit more”.
So I scratch a bit more, left.
“Bit more”.
So I do as told, not asked.
“Too far, up a bit”.
Coronation Street is good. Danny is about to find out his son loves his step mum. Been waiting for this for weeks. Danny is going to go ape.
“Concentrate, will you. To the right”.
“You just said left”.
“I know but now to the right”.
I expand my scratching area without losing visual contact with The Street.
“Up a bit”.
So I do as told.
“Oh, you are terrible. You just don’t do it right”.
I stay silent.
Half turning my head towards her I say, “Okay?”
“Yes, just about. No thanks to you.”
“I think you should stand up very quietly”.
“Why?”
“Just stand up”.
I know she is shit scared of spiders.
“Is it a spider?”
“Just stand up quietly”, I repeat.
She does. Looking at the carpet, eyes agog, trying to see the little monster.
She turns to look at me.
“Where is it?”
“Nowhere.”
“What do you mean?”
“While you’re up, love, could you make a cup of tea? Couple of chocolate digestives would go down well too.”
“You pig!”
Danny never found out about his son.
Perhaps tomorrow?
Alf Rogers was born in the UK and retired to Brisbane, Australia five years ago.
