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I’m a wonderful housekeeper. Every time I get a divorce, I keep the house.
Zsa Zsa Gabor.
Pet
Copyright © Fred Watson 2006
The back door slammed open and hit the fridge with a crash, the dark figure in the doorway half tripped on the step, staggered into the kitchen and said, ‘I’m home, pet.’
Oh God, look at the state of him, she thought, ‘No need to ask where you’ve been,’ she said.
Bobby stood there swaying, ‘What’s for tea, pet?’ he asked, a silly little boy grin on his face.
‘Come inside and shut the door, you silly bugger, it’s freezing in here.’
He looked at her as if she was daft, then looked at the door; the handle he hung onto and slowly he worked it out. With exaggerated care he eased the door towards him, reached with his left hand and grasped the door handle at the other side. Now came the tricky part, he had to transfer his weight to his left foot as he let go with his right hand. And it might have worked, if door hadn’t crashed shut dragging him with it. Stunned from sticking the nut on the frame, he shook his head, straighten his shoulders, turned and hanging on to the sink made his way to the table.
Slumped in a chair he asked once again, ‘What’s for me tea, pet?’
‘Sausage and mash.’
‘Not again, what ever happened to a nice pork chop?’ he saw look on her face and knew he should not have said it, ‘Sorry, pet I…’ he tried to apologise, but he was too late, she cut him off in his prime.
‘When you, get a job, and put some money on table, you’ll get a chop.’
‘But, pet you know I can’t work with me bad back. Besides what about me benefit, that’s money isn’t it.’
‘Aye, for all the good that does, you drink it all and a tidy bit more. Which reminds me, you had no money left yesterday, so where did the money come from to buy drink today?’
‘Ah, well, pet I had a bit of luck, didn’t I.’
‘It must have been a canny bit of luck, the state your in.’
‘It was, I met your mother, canny old soul.’
‘What do you mean you met me mother, last time she was here, she vowed never to speak to you again.’
‘Ah, man, that was just a misunderstanding, pet. Can a help it if she’s a bit sensitive about her weight.’
‘Sensitive, you called her, a big fat interfering old pig.’
‘Sorry about that, pet, anyway she must have forgiven is, she let is have twenty quid.’
‘You didn’t, did you?’
‘What?’
‘You did, didn’t you, you stood outside the bingo on the off chance that me mother had a win, and when she did, you tapped her for a sub. Right, hand over what’s left of it.’
‘There’s nowt left it’s all gone, now can a have me tea, pet.’
‘Aye,’ she said, dumping his tea on his lap.
‘Aw, man what did you do that for?’ he cried.
‘Coz, I’m sick of, you calling is pet.’
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