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Dudley Chalk never expected to find what he found.
Could you find it? |
Wishing
Chapter 4
“Let’s eat something,” she said. “It's hungry work, making people’s wishes come true. I feel the need for cheese, and possibly pineapple, joined together with a piece of wood. Good Heavens, would you believe it, there’s just what I’m looking for.”
They collected paper plates and used them to gather polite quantities of food. The sticks that skewered the cheese and pineapple had little messages attached, like flag-shaped fortunes. “My cheesy stick has a message on it,” Adam said.
“What does it say?”
“'The entire army entered the woods, and there was honey on the ground.' That's a little odd, don't you think?”
“Honey? Yes, that is a strange thing to put on a stick. Would the men be the army and the ladies the honey, do you think?
Hang on, mine seems to be covered by pasta salad,” and she used a white plastic fork to reveal the writing on her fortune.
“Mine says 'And thus are the secrets of his heart made manifest.' Are these fortune cookie sticks? Will I learn the secrets of your heart by eating cheese?”
“Try it Lisa. You may find romance through the unusual route of diced cheddar, which would make for a wonderful after-dinner story some day.”
Lisa slid the pineapple and cheese into her mouth and her look almost dared him to make manifest the secrets of his heart. It was too soon for cheese-induced honesty and he tried very hard to focus.
“I did detect a slightly churchy theme in the few conversations I had before hiding on the patio,” he said. “That might have been when I really decided this wasn't for me. I'm not looking for a cult, there was only one person here I wanted to talk to and, as you seem to know, I wasn't going to talk to her.”
“Likewise,” she said, tilting her head down at the compliment. “Though I didn't detect anything overly religious in the people I spoke to. One man for instance -- and he seems to have left already thank goodness -- only wanted to talk about his car.”
“Really? Was it blessed by the Pope?”
“No, he was exceedingly pleased with himself because it was priced at nineteen hundred pounds but he got it for 25% off through some form of guile and cunning.”
“Did you swoon?”
“Seriously, I was very tempted to marry him for his breath-taking ability to cajole.”
“I'm very glad you didn't.”
“I think I was wise to wait. Seriously Adam, what I got from chatting were two groups -- those who seemed proud that their lives had been blighted in every conceivable way and those who made up for their lack of success with frankly unbelievable stories.”
Lisa looked at him again -- not quite as she had done after the Shamus O’Short comment, but still with a sense of puzzlement. “I can’t work out which category to put you in,” she said.
“Category?”
“Yes. I was convinced that I’d find people who are crushingly awkward or people who simply invent things to sound more impressive than they actually are.”
“Make-up artists,” he said.
“Yes,” she laughed. “Make-up artists. I bet we could throw a vol-au-vent and hit at least one airline pilot or heart surgeon. But you don’t seem to fit. Even though you hate yourself for selling taps you were prepared to leave the party rather than lie to people.”
“You know I sell taps? Oh dear, you really are a spy.”
“So,” she continued, “are you going to leave? Or are you going to get drunk and reinvent yourself? It seems a shame to waste a good name like Gideon Faint.”
Adam looked into his glass and tried to come up with a plan that would keep this girl interested for longer than an evening. He didn't want this to be the last time he saw her.
“Are you really going to leave?” he asked, “because now I want to stay.”
She put her hand on his arm again. “I can't stay too long Adam. I'm on the 2:25 to Paris tomorrow and --”
“Oh God, what, in the morning?”
“No no! the afternoon, but I still need to be out of here before the sun comes up! I have meetings. I need to look awake at least. I have an hour or so. What about you? Do we both have time to reinvent ourselves? It might save the party for both of us.”
“Okay,” he said. “I’ll go around pretending to be someone else if you pretend to be someone too. I'd like us both to feel silly tomorrow morning.”
“Let’s eat something,” she said. “It's hungry work, making people’s wishes come true. I feel the need for cheese, and possibly pineapple, joined together with a piece of wood. Good Heavens, would you believe it, there’s just what I’m looking for.”
They collected paper plates and used them to gather polite quantities of food. The sticks that skewered the cheese and pineapple had little messages attached, like flag-shaped fortunes. “My cheesy stick has a message on it,” Adam said.
“What does it say?”
“'The entire army entered the woods, and there was honey on the ground.' That's a little odd, don't you think?”
“Honey? Yes, that is a strange thing to put on a stick. Would the men be the army and the ladies the honey, do you think?
Hang on, mine seems to be covered by pasta salad,” and she used a white plastic fork to reveal the writing on her fortune.
“Mine says 'And thus are the secrets of his heart made manifest.' Are these fortune cookie sticks? Will I learn the secrets of your heart by eating cheese?”
“Try it Lisa. You may find romance through the unusual route of diced cheddar, which would make for a wonderful after-dinner story some day.”
Lisa slid the pineapple and cheese into her mouth and her look almost dared him to make manifest the secrets of his heart. It was too soon for cheese-induced honesty and he tried very hard to focus.
“I did detect a slightly churchy theme in the few conversations I had before hiding on the patio,” he said. “That might have been when I really decided this wasn't for me. I'm not looking for a cult, there was only one person here I wanted to talk to and, as you seem to know, I wasn't going to talk to her.”
“Likewise,” she said, tilting her head down at the compliment. “Though I didn't detect anything overly religious in the people I spoke to. One man for instance -- and he seems to have left already thank goodness -- only wanted to talk about his car.”
“Really? Was it blessed by the Pope?”
“No, he was exceedingly pleased with himself because it was priced at nineteen hundred pounds but he got it for 25% off through some form of guile and cunning.”
“Did you swoon?”
“Seriously, I was very tempted to marry him for his breath-taking ability to cajole.”
“I'm very glad you didn't.”
“I think I was wise to wait. Seriously Adam, what I got from chatting were two groups -- those who seemed proud that their lives had been blighted in every conceivable way and those who made up for their lack of success with frankly unbelievable stories.”
Lisa looked at him again -- not quite as she had done after the Shamus O’Short comment, but still with a sense of puzzlement. “I can’t work out which category to put you in,” she said.
“Category?”
“Yes. I was convinced that I’d find people who are crushingly awkward or people who simply invent things to sound more impressive than they actually are.”
“Make-up artists,” he said.
“Yes,” she laughed. “Make-up artists. I bet we could throw a vol-au-vent and hit at least one airline pilot or heart surgeon. But you don’t seem to fit. Even though you hate yourself for selling taps you were prepared to leave the party rather than lie to people.”
“You know I sell taps? Oh dear, you really are a spy.”
“So,” she continued, “are you going to leave? Or are you going to get drunk and reinvent yourself? It seems a shame to waste a good name like Gideon Faint.”
Adam looked into his glass and tried to come up with a plan that would keep this girl interested for longer than an evening. He didn't want this to be the last time he saw her.
“Are you really going to leave?” he asked, “because now I want to stay.”
She put her hand on his arm again. “I can't stay too long Adam. I'm on the 2:25 to Paris tomorrow and --”
“Oh God, what, in the morning?”
“No no! the afternoon, but I still need to be out of here before the sun comes up! I have meetings. I need to look awake at least. I have an hour or so. What about you? Do we both have time to reinvent ourselves? It might save the party for both of us.”
“Okay,” he said. “I’ll go around pretending to be someone else if you pretend to be someone too. I'd like us both to feel silly tomorrow morning.”
