FICTION IN THE POST-PANDEMIC TIMES
Well dear folk the silly season is upon us and I’m about the glaze the ham. Just need to pop out to the shops!
It’s been a stifling summer already and I haven’t wanted to face the roaring heat of my under-the-benchtop oven. But we all have to make sacrifices.
I’ve written a few travel stories lately following my recent trip to the Hunter Valley and another episode starring our daring duo. I entered it into the December Furious Fiction writing competition. Between you, me and a bottle of Bolly, I don’t expect to win – I know, crazy! – but I do enjoy the challenge of a deadline and love to think up silly antics for my fictional gal pals. Sometimes I think Mrs Mac is real. And I’ve met the odd Tiffany, to be sure.
Anyway, enough of me and on with the story. I wrote this particular episode last year – yes the long-gone 2023 – but here it is now for your enjoyment and a laugh or two.
Last time we checked in on Mrs Mac and her cohort, they had boarded the wonderful Queen Mary 2 ocean liner, only to find that her other granddaughter, Clementine, was already onboard and making the space her own. The nerve of the child…and the nerve of Mrs Mac’s daughter who had casually foisted the little girl, on her grandmother with not so much as a by-your-leave. Mrs Mac was very partial to her adult granddaughter Tiffany – they were besties – but cosying up to a 12-year-old was a bridge too far.
The “rules” for this story were:
- Your story must take place in a RESTAURANT.
- Your story must include a character who smashes something.
- Your story must include the words EUPHORIA, LABYRINTH and SILHOUETTE (plurals etc are also fine)
Read on comedy lovers!
Dining aboard the Queen Mary 2 was something Mrs MacPhillamy relished. She would spend the day of the captain’s welcome dinner deciding which bejewelled gown to wear, and which shoes, handbag and even tiara might complement the look. Normally time spent among her sequins and pearls, with a bottle of Bollinger and crystal goblet at her side, was a thing of joy.
Not this time – the euphoria had evaporated. The dowager was forced to don her leisurewear and spend her morning at the purser’s office dictating a message to her daughter back in London.
Mrs Mac could have dashed off a stern email herself, but she needed the cache and authority of one delivered on Queen Mary 2 letterhead and signed by the captain. Something her pushy daughter would have to heed.
It was day three of the world cruise and the third day she had to endure her pre-teen granddaughter, Clementine.
The little brat had been foisted on her unexpectantly by her parents, virtually lobbed onto the ship at Southampton as the ocean liner was about to set sail.
Mrs MacPhillamy had not planned on babysitting. She relished her three-month cruise as getting-away-from-family time.
Her daughter’s spoilt progeny had already got lost in the ship’s labyrinth of corridors and off-limits areas a dozen times since boarding and had taken to bossing the butler around.
The last straw was her booking a day-long spa treatment and charging it to Mrs Mac’s stateroom. Clementine, 12 years old, had chosen the non-invasive “Regain your svelte-like silhouette”, which promised the earth and was priced accordingly.
This had to stop and Mrs MacPhillamy – nay the Captain – would stop it.
Young man,” Mrs Mac addressed the pursuer, “you must demand that my daughter meet us in Gibraltar to take the child home.”
“But Mrs MacPhillamy, the child’s cabin fare is paid for up until Mumbai.” Mrs Mac groaned. They weren’t due to dock in India for another fortnight.
“Well, Clementine gets off in Gibraltar or my daughter pays for a full-time babysitter.”
“And”, Mrs Mac continued, “the captain must sign it. Get him on the phone now!”
“Madam, he is preparing for the gala dinner.”
“And so am I. My Dior gown awaits.”
Mrs Mac entered the Sapphire Dining Room lit under Tiffany chandeliers and festooned with peacock feathers, Clementine not far behind. The wily brat had only agreed to stop crying, if she were allowed to come to dinner.
Never had the old lady felt so ambushed. She took her seat, ordered the caviar and waited til the captain finished his speech.
“Captain” she waved, “a quick word about my….”
“Ah Madame MacPhillamy. Looking exquisite again. Would you do the honours and pour the Bollinger into our Champagne pyramid?”
Mrs Mac approached the crystal tower.
“I want to do it,” came the child-like yell. And tripping over the Dior fishtail, she crashed headfirst into the tower smashing 26 hand-cut glasses to smithereens.
Without hesitation Mrs Mac insisted on immediate medical evacuation.
Well dear readers, what another turn-up for the books. Poor old Clemmie might be seriously ill, or at the very least sustained a few cuts and abrasions.
You’ll have to tune in next time to see how the poor child is faring and how Mrs MacPhillamy copes. Knowing her as I do, I’m sure she’ll get it sorted in no time. But the burning question remains: “Does Cunard have enough champagne glasses for the next special occasion?” Can they pick up a few dozen goblets in Mumbai? Probably, those Indian markets stock everything and the kitchen sink.
As I’ve often said that you too can enter the Furious Fiction competition. Here’s the link. https://www.writerscentre.com.au/blog/category/furious-fiction/
And thanks again to Unsplash for the photograph: https://unsplash.com/
See you in the New Year. The next edition of the Adventure of Tiffany & Mrs Mac will arrive in January. Here’s a pictorial hint of its content.
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