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Dudley Chalk never expected to find what he found.
Could you find it? |
Wishing
Chapter 3
Adam saw her. He waggled his hand to ask if she wanted a drink and she smiled, shook her head and held up a glass containing something cocktail-like. Adam got himself a large gin and tonic, which was half gone by the time he reached the crab sticks. His walk, like the magical Irishman or the crabs who gave their lives in the production of yonder sticks, was a disappointing lurch, and he held out the piece of paper Chamberlain-like, as though it gave him some authority to approach her.
“My little messenger did his job then,” she said.
“It would seem so. Friend of yours is he?”
“He’s one of the little people,” she said with a grin. “When strangers make wishes on freezing patios I use him to do my dirty work.”
“It is monkey weather, that's for sure.”
“Monkey weather? Oh, of course. Yes, blue lips and this dress would clash, I think so I asked someone who was going out there anyway. He’s quite a nice little man, actually. Shame he’s so short.”
Adam smiled. “Shamus O’Short is a good name for one of the little people.”
She looked into his eyes for the first time. Hers were hazel and speckled and he wondered if looking at them was an invasion of her privacy. She seemed interested, puzzled, possibly. He would avoid mentioning taps for as long as possible.
“Have a crab stick,” she said, “you look a little faint.”
“I am, I’m afraid. And giddy. Giddy and faint.” He tinkled the half empty glass.
“Gideon Faint. Great name. Much better than Carlton Dangerfield. Hi. I’m Lisa.” She held out her hand and her smile was pure mischief.
Adam took her hand and tried to form any words that would stop her from walking away, but couldn’t think of any. He toyed with the idea of holding her hand and not letting go. Eventually, as her mischievous smile was on the verge of breaking into an unconfined laugh, he blurted out, “Am I in the twilight zone? I mean, this is…”
“You made a wish!” and she looked herself up and down as if to say, ‘so here I am.’
“I wished on a firework. I thought the chances of success would be fairly slim.”
“Where there's muck, as my father used to say. Sorry, I mean just because it wasn't a heavenly body doesn't mean it wasn't full of riches. Dangerous things, wishes. They can get you into all sorts of trouble. That, by the way, was the subtly flirtatious part of your wish. And thank you for the compliment.”
Adam knew that there were other people in the room because he’d risked lung cancer and hypothermia to get away from them, but at that moment he was completely alone with this girl called Lisa and the usual nerves, shyness and utter Adam-ness of his life had left him. Was she a wish come true?
“Hello,” he said. “I’m Adam and I sell…Are you psychic? Is that the explanation for this?”
“It could be. Or maybe your wish did come true, who knows? I know your name is Adam, I asked our scary hostess. I actually wanted to talk to you before you went outside but you seemed a bit uninterested so I didn’t push it. And a girl is not going to follow a strange man out onto a freezing patio without a proper introduction. Gideon Faint is a great name, by the way. I think you should use it.”
“You overheard me didn’t you? You heard me make that wish. You were in the bushes somewhere with a trumpet. I mean an ear trumpet obviously, or suspended from a hot air balloon or something.”
“No trumpets, bushes or balloons, I promise. You were hiding out there weren’t you? I watched you leave. You had to borrow a cigarette so I guessed you just needed an excuse to get out of here.”
“Are you sure you’re not a private detective? Some kind of copper in disguise? I do find you very arresting...”
She shook her head and laughed. “I’m sure. We were both hiding, I suppose…”
She let the comment trail off. While she sipped her drink and looked around the room, Adam tried to look at her without staring. She wasn’t just pretty; she had some quality that he couldn’t quite define, as though whatever she was about to say was something he wanted to hear. He marvelled at her hands. He was attracted to her elbows, the lobes of her ears – everything, actually. She probably had beautiful knees, so rare and magnificent was her beauty. She moved in a way that made him sway, uncontrollably.
“What are you thinking?” she asked.
“Knees,” he said.
She nodded, as if that were a normal thing to think about. “Do you live alone?” she asked.
“No, there’s a spider in the kitchen. Is that another subtly flirtatious remark?”
“No. It’s just that people who live alone tend to…no matter.” She rolled her drink around in the glass and Adam rescued the moment by asking her what she was drinking. It was orange juice but he had noticed the alcohol condensing on the side of the glass.
“Oh, something to calm the nerves. Vodka, rum and orange juice. It's working, I have to say.”
“Is that a Screwdriver?” he asked, trying to keep the momentum going and the subject away from taps.
“Um, I'm no expert but I think it would be a screwdriver if was just vodka and orange juice. Adding the rum makes it something else I think. My parents liked it. I do too.”
They both turned as the patio door slid open and a short woman went out into the cold. She closed the door against the night and engaged Shamus O’Short in conversation. They were the same height, built on the same body plan, and it caused both Lisa and Adam to smile.
Adam saw her. He waggled his hand to ask if she wanted a drink and she smiled, shook her head and held up a glass containing something cocktail-like. Adam got himself a large gin and tonic, which was half gone by the time he reached the crab sticks. His walk, like the magical Irishman or the crabs who gave their lives in the production of yonder sticks, was a disappointing lurch, and he held out the piece of paper Chamberlain-like, as though it gave him some authority to approach her.
“My little messenger did his job then,” she said.
“It would seem so. Friend of yours is he?”
“He’s one of the little people,” she said with a grin. “When strangers make wishes on freezing patios I use him to do my dirty work.”
“It is monkey weather, that's for sure.”
“Monkey weather? Oh, of course. Yes, blue lips and this dress would clash, I think so I asked someone who was going out there anyway. He’s quite a nice little man, actually. Shame he’s so short.”
Adam smiled. “Shamus O’Short is a good name for one of the little people.”
She looked into his eyes for the first time. Hers were hazel and speckled and he wondered if looking at them was an invasion of her privacy. She seemed interested, puzzled, possibly. He would avoid mentioning taps for as long as possible.
“Have a crab stick,” she said, “you look a little faint.”
“I am, I’m afraid. And giddy. Giddy and faint.” He tinkled the half empty glass.
“Gideon Faint. Great name. Much better than Carlton Dangerfield. Hi. I’m Lisa.” She held out her hand and her smile was pure mischief.
Adam took her hand and tried to form any words that would stop her from walking away, but couldn’t think of any. He toyed with the idea of holding her hand and not letting go. Eventually, as her mischievous smile was on the verge of breaking into an unconfined laugh, he blurted out, “Am I in the twilight zone? I mean, this is…”
“You made a wish!” and she looked herself up and down as if to say, ‘so here I am.’
“I wished on a firework. I thought the chances of success would be fairly slim.”
“Where there's muck, as my father used to say. Sorry, I mean just because it wasn't a heavenly body doesn't mean it wasn't full of riches. Dangerous things, wishes. They can get you into all sorts of trouble. That, by the way, was the subtly flirtatious part of your wish. And thank you for the compliment.”
Adam knew that there were other people in the room because he’d risked lung cancer and hypothermia to get away from them, but at that moment he was completely alone with this girl called Lisa and the usual nerves, shyness and utter Adam-ness of his life had left him. Was she a wish come true?
“Hello,” he said. “I’m Adam and I sell…Are you psychic? Is that the explanation for this?”
“It could be. Or maybe your wish did come true, who knows? I know your name is Adam, I asked our scary hostess. I actually wanted to talk to you before you went outside but you seemed a bit uninterested so I didn’t push it. And a girl is not going to follow a strange man out onto a freezing patio without a proper introduction. Gideon Faint is a great name, by the way. I think you should use it.”
“You overheard me didn’t you? You heard me make that wish. You were in the bushes somewhere with a trumpet. I mean an ear trumpet obviously, or suspended from a hot air balloon or something.”
“No trumpets, bushes or balloons, I promise. You were hiding out there weren’t you? I watched you leave. You had to borrow a cigarette so I guessed you just needed an excuse to get out of here.”
“Are you sure you’re not a private detective? Some kind of copper in disguise? I do find you very arresting...”
She shook her head and laughed. “I’m sure. We were both hiding, I suppose…”
She let the comment trail off. While she sipped her drink and looked around the room, Adam tried to look at her without staring. She wasn’t just pretty; she had some quality that he couldn’t quite define, as though whatever she was about to say was something he wanted to hear. He marvelled at her hands. He was attracted to her elbows, the lobes of her ears – everything, actually. She probably had beautiful knees, so rare and magnificent was her beauty. She moved in a way that made him sway, uncontrollably.
“What are you thinking?” she asked.
“Knees,” he said.
She nodded, as if that were a normal thing to think about. “Do you live alone?” she asked.
“No, there’s a spider in the kitchen. Is that another subtly flirtatious remark?”
“No. It’s just that people who live alone tend to…no matter.” She rolled her drink around in the glass and Adam rescued the moment by asking her what she was drinking. It was orange juice but he had noticed the alcohol condensing on the side of the glass.
“Oh, something to calm the nerves. Vodka, rum and orange juice. It's working, I have to say.”
“Is that a Screwdriver?” he asked, trying to keep the momentum going and the subject away from taps.
“Um, I'm no expert but I think it would be a screwdriver if was just vodka and orange juice. Adding the rum makes it something else I think. My parents liked it. I do too.”
They both turned as the patio door slid open and a short woman went out into the cold. She closed the door against the night and engaged Shamus O’Short in conversation. They were the same height, built on the same body plan, and it caused both Lisa and Adam to smile.
