|
A Couple of Plastic Clothes Pegs by Melissa Lawrence
|
|
When I woke up, I knew I was dead. It was a bit of a disappointment, actually. There were no bright lights, long white tunnels or hordes of ancient relatives waving at me from the edge of a crystal stream. It was just me, a slightly damp duvet and a couple of plastic clothes pegs. Then I remembered what it was I’d been doing before I died and it wasn’t hanging out the washing. Surely that couldn’t have killed me? I mean, I’d heard of “la petite mort” but this was ridiculous. I began to wonder what would happen next. How long would it be before anyone found me? I hoped it wouldn’t be too long. I didn’t fancy getting all smelly and ending up on one of those television programmes about grime collectors in Dagenham. And I couldn’t help wishing that I’d died in more dramatic circumstances. An avalanche in the Alps or a mugging in Miami, perhaps. Anywhere but on my own, in my bed, with a couple of plastic clothes pegs. It wasn’t as if I’d been a great one for sex, either. I could take it or leave it, really. But when you are on the wrong side of sixty, a woman can still have urges that even a double box set of ‘Midsomer Murders’ won’t satisfy. And what else was I supposed to do after Brian passed away? Hire a gigolo? I wouldn’t have known where to begin, although looking under ‘G’ in the Yellow Pages might have been a start. Or maybe I should have thrown myself at the nearest available man. That Derek at the Bowls Club was always giving me the “glad eye”. But if I’m honest, it was never really about the sex. It was just something I started doing after Brian went. A comfort thing really and not all that comforting either. The anticipation and excitement soon wears off when you only ever wake up next to a cup of cold Horlicks. And I could never really let myself go in this new house. The walls are as thin as cheap Christmas wrapping paper. Thinking of the neighbours brought me up short. What on earth was Evelyn next door going to say? She was the only one with a key so she was bound to come in when she saw the milk bottles piling up on the doorstep. And once she realised what I’d been doing...well, it would be all over the Bowls Club before you could say “rigor mortis”. That decided me. Next thing I knew, I was readjusting my nightie and reaching for my glasses. Death would have to wait. It was time to start again. An after life, if you like. I’d begin by asking that Derek round for supper. He looked as if he might know what to do with a couple of plastic clothes pegs.
|
|
First Place: Everybody’s Tuppence Worth Second Place: Perfect Day |
