Easy As..Make up your own, Bonzi's busy.
by Angharad.
part CCXCII.

Simon pulled up on some double yellow lines, so it was me who had to get out and brave the rain and the cold, as well as pay for his fish and chips and blessed mushy peas.

I went and stood in the queue not paying much attention to anything except how much the prices had increased since I'd last been there. Suddenly it was my turn and as I approached the counter, my stomach flipped. Behind the counter was Malcolm Bragg, or Melvin, as we used to call him.

"Can I help you love?" he asked.

"Oh sorry, yes, fish and chips twice and one mushy peas."

"Right love, that'll be eight pounds forty."

I handed over a tenner, he took it from my hand, then he looked at me, then at my hand, then at me. "Charlie?"

I nearly fainted, he had recognised the tiniest scar on the back of my hand, mainly because he had caused it with a bow and arrow. Not the sort I shot later, but a kids one, with, however, a sharp enough point on the arrow to stick in the back of my hand. Boy did I cry that day.

"It's Melvin, isn't it?"

"Yeah, you remember me."

"And your bow and arrow."

He looked at my hand and blushed. "Erm, yeah. You've changed rather a lot."

"Yes, I suppose I have."

I heard some giggling from behind, 'It is her.'

'Nah don't be daft,' more giggles.

"Excuse me," asked a teenage girl of about sixteen. "Are you the dormouse woman?"

"Maybe, what if I am?"

"What A-levels do you need to study dormice?"

"Are you serious?"

"Yeah, course."

"Write to the Departmental Secretary at the Faculty of Biological Sciences at Portsmouth University and ask her to send you a prospectus. If you look on the web, you'll find an email address."

"Cor, thanks." She smiled and went back to her friend in the queue behind me.

"So it was you, on the film clip?"

"Yeah, fraid so." I sighed and took the bag he offered.

"You still at the same place?"

"Yes for a couple of days."

"Can I come round for a chat?"

"I suppose so ..."

"Excuse me darlin' can you chat up yer boyfriends in yer own time." The voice was a rather large blue collar worker type.

"Sorry," I said to him, "Give me a ring, it's in the book."

"Yeah, will do."

I pushed my way out past the two teens, who smiled and said, "Bye." I nodded and got in the car.

"Who was that?" asked Simon.

"A boy I knew at school."

"You mean he recognised you?"

"No he recognised this," I pointed to the mark just below my second finger.

"He's got good eyesight."

"Melvin? Yeah s'pose so. He wants to come round to talk."

"What about the kids?"

"I don't have any," I said without thinking about what I was saying.

"The two in the shop." Simon shook his head in bewilderment.

"Oh them. They wanted to know about the university and the dormouse juggling course."

"See, you've done wonders for their recruitment."

"Yeah sure."

"So what does Melvin want to talk about?"

"I don't bloody know do I, probably why I'm wearing a skirt and makeup, I didn't in junior school."

"So was he a friend of yours?"

"What is this, the Spanish Inquisition?"

"Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition ..." Simon went off into one of his Monty Python sketches, for which I was quite grateful. It gave me time to think, just what did Melvin want? I had no idea.

"... and a fanatical devotion to the pope, we have three main ..." Simon continued his ramblings, while I continued my day dreams and memories of Melvin in school. He knew where I lived, he'd been there a few times as a kid. Because we couldn't get any girls to play with us, when he was Robin Hood, I had to play Maid Marion. We didn't have a dress or anything, just a floral patterned old curtain, which formed my cloak.

It was funny that he would tie me to the line post in his garden, then leap in Errol Flynn fashion to kill all the imaginary baddies and save me from the dastardly Sheriff. I would just swoon and say, "My Hero, Robin." We never kissed or anything like that, but he wouldn't be Marion for me to rescue as Robin. He was far too butch for that, and he was kind of bigger than me. Come to think of it, he seemed to enjoy tying me up, mind you part of me did too! Oops! I felt myself blushing.

"Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition ... oh bugger!" Simon had completed the entire sketch from memory. Thank God I hadn't mentioned, 'parrot'!

We arrived home and warmed up the chips and two plates in the oven, well the fridge isn't much use for that is it? Simon opened a bottle of Sauvignon and poured a couple of glasses.

"Now what's with this Melvin guy?"

"Nothing, I haven't seen him for five or six years, maybe longer. We drifted apart. I was surprised he recognised me."

"Maybe you haven't changed that much."

"Oh come off it Simon, last time he saw me I was a boy."

"Yeah, but basic face shape and so on doesn't change, perhaps you were a feminine looking boy."

"I suppose I was, at least I assume that I look okay now, so I must have been."

"You look beautiful, and once I've had me mushy peas, I am going to ravish you until you beg for mercy ..."

Simon was interrupted by the phone ringing. He answered it, as I was dishing up the food on the now too hot plates.

"Who, no Mr Watts is deceased, this is Simon Cameron ... Who? Charlie? No, there's no Charlie here. What? Oh you mean Cathy, yes hang on." He held the phone to his chest, "It's Malcolm Bragg."

"Oh!" I pushed my dinner back in the oven and pointed to Simon's plate, he handed me the phone.

As I took it there was a shout of, "Ouch! That sodding plate is hot!" Simon certainly didn't improve with keeping.

"Hello, Cathy Watts," I said.

"Charlie?"

"It's Cathy now," I corrected him, hoping he'd get the message without lengthy explanations.

"Look I can't stop now, I'm on my break, any chance you're around tomorrow?"

"What time? I'm trying to sort out my father's funeral arrangements."

"Oh, yeah, sorry to hear that. Tomorrow any time before about four, when I have to go into work."

"I suppose so, Simon and I could meet you say for lunch."

"Who's Simon?" he asked a little nervously.

"My fiance, is that a problem?"

"No, I suppose not, so you've gone all the way then?"

"What do you mean?" I asked, not entirely sure of his meaning.

"A sex change thing."

"Yes, why, is it a problem?"

"No, not at all, John Bennett always reckoned you were a girl anyway."

"John Bennett, oh Gordon, since when was he especially insightful?" I'd always thought he'd thought I was gay.

"Well that's what he told me, you were a sissy, especially when he saw us playing Robin Hood. It was his mother who was the sister on casualty when we took you down there with my arrow in your hand, remember?"

"No I don't."

"Yeah, an' when she asked, like, how we done it, you said you were playing Maid Marion and Robin Hood shot you. When Bennett found out he told the whole school remember?"

"Not particular ... oh, yes, I hope he's burning in hell somewhere."

"Nah, he's alright. I have to go, what about the Old Fusilier Pub at one o'clock tomorrow?"

"Yeah, okay." I got my meal from the oven and sat down at the kitchen table to eat it.

"You were right, babes, these are ace fish and chips, and the mushies are just brill."

"Yeah, what?" I broke out of my reverie. "He wants us to meet him for lunch tomorrow at a pub on the Gloucester Road.

"What for?"

"I don't know, but I don't think it's to apologise for trying to kill me twelve years ago."

"Come on, babes, eat up, this stuff is like Viagra to me."

My heart sank, a few hours ago maybe, but not now, except I hadn't dilated, so I suppose it could save some time there and make Simon happy. Part of me wondered if I took long enough eating, and let him drink the rest of the wine, whether he'd fall asleep and I'd be spared the, you know what. I sighed and ate another chip.