BENIGHTED
Kez frowned and twirled a strand of hair round one finger.
“I feel as
though I’ve forgotten something. Can’t think what it would be.”
Martin
lowered the book he’d just opened and contemplated his wife over the top of his
glasses.
“Of course
you can’t. You’ve forgotten it, remember.” He returned his attention to the
book, shaking loose papers from it onto his chest. “Someone’s forgotten they’ve left all this stuff in here.”
“Looks like
library receipts,” said Kez, reaching over to snatch up the nearest. “Gosh! Who
borrows nine books at once?”
Martin
pretended to snatch it back, but Kez held it out of reach, reading out book
titles at arm’s length.
“ ‘Old
Filth’. There’s a title to conjure with. ‘Eros Defiled’, ‘Fifty Shades of
Grey’, ‘Love in a Cold Climate’, ‘Nights in Rhodanthe.’ Whoever it is, she’s definitely
reading to a theme. I suppose it’s a her.
Oh damn!” She swung her legs out of bed, tossing the receipt to one
side. “That’s what it is! Supposed to
meet the White Knight for coffee this morning. Damn! Have to rush now. I’ll
turn up looking a right mess.” She disappeared into the ensuite.
As usual, Martin
smiled at his wife’s name for her friend, Barb. It was an apt nick name for a
woman who affected an all-white wardrobe and a reputation for marrying lame
ducks. He picked up the other pieces fallen from the book and unfolded the
largest. It was an overdue book notification, complete with name and address.
“Hey, Kez,”
he shouted against the noise of the shower. “Guess, what?”
***
Kez lowered her latte to its saucer and asked, “Read any
interesting books lately, Barbie? Like…visited the library?”
“Silly. Book
groups are your hobby. When do I have time to read? Real life is much
more interesting.”
“Just
wondering. Thought your ‘latest’ might like you to read aloud to him.”
“Not like
you to be catty, Kez. He hasn’t had a great education, but I’m proud to be Mrs.
Roger Black. He’s got charisma, and he’s willing, and with a bit of help from
me he’ll turn his life around and make something
of himself. He’s got real potential.”
“As what?”
“As a
writer, that’s what!” Barb flicked her blonde mane and adjusted the lapel of
her cashmere jacket. “Oh, Kez, he shuts himself in the study for hours, won’t
let me interrupt. And then, at night, he reads it to me. He’s got talent, he
really has.”
Kez wasn’t
convinced, but Barb had once worked in the publishing world, and she used to be
a reader, before she started collecting husbands. It’s possible she’d recognise
a potential best seller.
“Well, I’d
be happy to read the manuscript. Copy edit, too, if he wants,” she said,
stroking a few ruffled feathers.
“Would you?
That would be wonderful! Especially as I’ve got a publisher who’s agreed to
look at it.”
“Not
Bernard?”
“Yes.” Barb giggled. “At least one of my exes came up trumps.”
***
By the time his book hit the shelves Roger had moved on to
join Barbie’s list of exes. Not only did he still have a library card in her
name, he had signed a contract for further titles to be published under the
pseudonym of B. Knight-Black.
“Barb
should have him for identity theft,” said Martin.
“Yep. Right
after Bernard sues him for plagiarism, I reckon,” said Kez.
©
Rhonda Pooley 4.6.14