Author's Note: I started writing this as a break from the other story I'm
working on, 'The Day Trip', and it sort of grew. It's basically about what
happens from after when the barge sinks to the next morning when the
Carnahans, Rick, and the warden arrive at the Bedoin camp and buy the
camels, and it's from Evelyn's point of view.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
'Hey Beni! Looks to me like you're on the wrong side of the river!' O'Connell shot back, and I saw a ridiculous amount satisfaction in his eyes that he was able to articulate such a brilliant -or so he thought- comeback.
Insufferable man! It was entirely his fault I was drenched from head to foot with pond scum in my hair, with all my supplies and books lost forever in the depths of the Nile, and only a rather revealing nightgown covering me, or, more to the point, NOT covering me.
This was unfortunately attracting the attention of the rude little warden. He was staring at me in a most disconcerting manner. The nerve! I waited until Jonathan and O'Connell were safely out of earshot up the bank before snapping, 'It's not polite to stare, you know.' He held up his hands as if pleading innocent to my charges. Under the circumstances, I thought it better not to begin any sort of verbal battle, so I set him go with a sound glare before trailing after the others, who had wandered a little down the river and were in the middle of some sort of argument of their own.
'I don't mean to dampen your enthusiasm or anything, O'Connell, but don't you think we ought to wait until it's light enough to tell which direction we're walking in before we attempt to travel?' Jonathan whined, as O'Connell spread his gunnysack out on a rock and started reloading one of his weapons with ammunition. He rolled his eyes at Jonathan, obviously finding his cowardice a bit hard to take, a sentiment I could well understand. Jonathan's lack of enthusiasm for any activity likely to render him injured, discomforted or out of pocket had long been a sore point. God knows where he got such an attitude -or lack of attitude- from. Both our parents had been regular adventurers, ready for anything life threw their way. If they were here now- but I couldn't think like that. Not thinking like that was how I got by.
'If we wait 'til light you better kiss that five hundred bucks goodbye.' Mr O'Connell told my brother, causing me to narrow my eyes in suspicion.
'WHAT five hundred dollars, Mr O'Connell?' I asked, and both men jumped guiltily, obviously not having heard my approach. Mr O'Connell quickly turned away and fumbled with a silly gun, while Jonathan pretended to be intensely interested in some vile contraption or another he grabbed hastily from O'Connell's extensive collection. Obviously neither of them had any intention of divulging any information, which only made me all the more determined to weasel it out of the conniving wretches.
'What five hundred dollars, Jonathan?' I asked sternly as the warden came loitering up. He positioned himself one a nearby rock from which he could stare at me all he liked without the others noticing. I found this severely irritating, not to mention downright ill mannered, and I considered asking him if he'd like the name of the dress-shop I purchased my nightgown from, as he obviously admired it very much. However, upon reflection, I decided it was worth foregoing this small triumph to maintain my concealment of the friction between the warden and myself.
'Umm, just a harmless wager O'Connell made with the American fellows we met on the barge. Silly lot of codswallop, really. Something they agreed on while we thrashing them at pok- I mean, while we were having a few drin- I mean, it's nothing to do with me, Evie, I swear!' Jonathan babbled, not very convincingly. I glanced at Mr O'Connell, who from his expression and stance I could tell was going to stay out of it and refrain from incriminating Jonathan or indeed saying anything at all on the matter.
I must confess I found this loyalty to my brother rather sweet.
And for that reason, I told myself, I should despise Mr O'Connell all the more! How dare he reveal any admirable human qualities! How dare he make himself attractive to me! How dare he be the first decent poker partner my brother has ever had!
Infuriating man!
I could see no-one was going to explain things any further, so I decided to leave the matter until such time as I could hammer it out of Jonathan easily, like the next time he was drunk, singing sea shanties and mistaking himself for the Pirate King.
By the time I had come out of this train of thought, the others had dispersed, and I was left standing by myself, a situation I did not enjoy in the least. Solitude in the middle of the desert when one had not the foggiest idea when one was could be rather alarming.
Not that I was alarmed! I simply wanted to find the others, that was all. That was nothing to be ashamed about!
I glanced around once more, and on closer inspection managed to make out a few figures in the darkness. I peered closer, and managed to identify them.
The warden, I noticed, had pulled Mr O'Connell aside and was conferring about something or other, possibly the best way to seduce a half-dressed girl in the middle of the desert, a topic that Mr O'Connell, I felt sure, would be only too familiar with. He probably liked women of the blond, bosomy variety, who would sit on his lap and share his vulgar beer. That sort of woman wouldn't need a brain of her own- O'Connell's would suffice, should she need such facilities at all, which was doubtful. Unless, of course, she needed to count the number of men with which she had.had.
Never mind.
The prospect of joining their conversation was entirely unappealing, considering the unconventional type of talk I imagined them to be having. This raised a problem- what else was there to do?
I looked around and spotted Jonathan wandering down to the river, probably to have a few drinks on the sly. Ha! If he thought he was going to get drunk at a time like this, when we were about to begin a long and perilous -alright, NOT perilous- journey, then he was sorely mistaken. I, Evelyn, would singly-handedly stop him from disgracing our family, himself, myself, and the name of the English in this foreign land!
Now also seemed as good a time as any to secure a shirt or some other appropriate item of clothing from Jonathan, to foil any plans or delusions the warden might have about the long night ahead.
I sidled up to my brother discreetly, not wanting the others to know of my intentions or their origins. Jonathan, I saw with some relief -and, admittedly, disappointment, as I couldn't interrogate him about the elusive five hundred dollars or make an English heroine/role-model/medal winner of myself- was not involved in any sketchy behaviour likely to result in a hangover tomorrow morning which I would inevitably have to clean up after. Instead, I registered with some surprise, he was skimming stones into the river. This was a skill that my father had taught us when we were small. Jonathan had never been very good at it, which reflected in his clumsy attempts now. Each stone, after its route was painstakingly planned and calculated by Jonathan, simply plopped into the murky water and sank promptly to the bottom. However, far from being discouraged, after each attempt my brother bent down and chose another stone.
Although Jonathan seemed to find this occupation immensely entertaining, I was soon bored, and began searching for any other sources of amusement. I found a suitable distraction to be looking across the river, where I could see the other passengers from the barge and watch the various activities they were engaged in. They were leading horses and camels around, setting up encampments, and yelling instructions or curses to each other. My cheeks burned at some such curses, and I tried to block out the interaction, but to no avail -the scholar in me immediately translated any words I picked up. So I turned to Jonathan and cleared my throat.
'Umm, Jonathan?'
'Yes, old mum? Something up?' he asked, perhaps noticing my agitated tone.
'It's a lovely night, isn't it?' I began weakly.
'Yes, I suppose so, although the reason we're out here observing it in the first place is far from lovely,' he said rather wryly, grimacing, no doubt imagining sleeping on a hard surface tonight as opposed to the soft mattress -equipped with blankets and pillows- he would have had on the barge. What a baby!
'Mmm. Jonathan?'
'What is it?'
'Nothing, really. Only.well, I.I'm cold.' I lied, hoping to secure his jacket withought revealing the real reason behind my need for it. Jonathan was far too cowardly to challenge the warden should he bother me, but he would verbally berate the man at least, and, if his past attempts were anything to judge by, he would do so very embarrassingly.
'So am I, now that you mention it,' Jonathan said breezily, tossing another wretched stone into the water and watching it sink. My efforts thus frustrated, I reflected that he could be downright vexing when he wanted to be. He rarely saw something directly in front of him unless it was pointed out, and had several scars on his forehead to prove it. Subtlety was utterly wasted on him.
'It's a pity your clothes are all at the bottom of the Nile. You could have put on a jacket, or something.' he continued, and I gave up my cause as lost. Unless I came right out and asked him, I would never get my hands on his silly old jacket.
'Yes, a great pity.' I said sadly, giving up. 'Well, we'd better be getting back to the others. We have been gone for quite a while, and I suppose Mr O'Connell will be anxious to start out.'
Jonathan amiably threw his last stone, and together we walked up the bank to where we had left the warden and Mr O'Connell. I was surprised to see that they were in the process of clearing a space between some rocks, for all appearances as if they were preparing some sort of sleeping place!
'Why, Mr O'Connell!' I cried, too amazed that he'd assented to Jonathan's whingeing to remember I had decided to be cross with him for the remainder of the expedition, maybe even exceeding it- not that we would see him again, of course. But maybe I'd run into him in Cairo.
'Aren't we leaving after all?' I continued, banishing the thought of never seeing the man in front of me again. Heaven knows why I found the thought so utterly distressing- actually, not DISTRESSING, but merely not entirely to my taste.
O'Connell, who had been stopped near the ground clearing away rocks and sharp sticks, stood up and brushed the sand and dirt off his great big hands. I tried not to stare too much at him and his ever-increasing attractiveness, which, I felt sure was nearing its pinnacle, but found the simple action of diverting my gaze quite impossible. It had never been hard before! Why, I was getting quite as bad as the warden!
He looked down at me with something I could not name in his eyes, something different. or maybe it had been there all along but I hadn't seen it, being too busy trying to stay angry at him.
'No.'
'Jolly good, old boy, jolly good.' Jonathan cried before I could reply, and I was forced to leave my mouth, which I had opened in preparation for continued interaction, hanging open like a great ghastly fish trap. I watched Jonathan slap Mr O'Connell on the back in his enthusiasm, drawing him away to discuss the eventual travel arrangements further, an action I quite envied him for, having never actually touched O'Connell' s back myself.his mouth and shirt yes, but nothing with muscles.
I was rudely awakened from my enchanting daydream about touching Mr O'Connell's muscular, masculine back by that illustrious -or so he thought- personage himself. I had not seen him approach, but approach he had, and now I looked up to see him looming in front of me. I glanced past him and saw the others stretched out on the ground, busy sharing a bottle of liquor the warden had produced, triumphantly, from his grotty little bag, the contents of which I had guessed at only a few hours ago, but had soon had to cease such thoughts for fear they would give me nightmares.
'Are you gonna be all right on the ground?' Mr O'Connell asked rather gruffly, causing all my initial antipathy towards him to return with a vengeance. Gone was his mounting attractiveness. Instead, I saw before me the dirty, hairy, flee-bitten personage I first encountered at Cairo Prison. Unfortunately, no sooner had I summoned up this image than I was remembering The Kiss.the wonderful, amazing, confusing kiss which had rendered me speechless and was threatening to do so again.
Damn you, Mr O'Con- oh! The nerve of the man! His vulgar speech habits were rubbing off on ME! HOW DARE HE?
'Is there some alternative you have not yet revealed, but will, after determining that I won't be all right? Is a feather bed going to fall from the sky? Have you buried a dozen pillows under the tree over there? Or are you suggesting I sleep IN the tree? Do you suppose that would be more agreeable than the ground to a weak, helpless, vulnerable woman such as myself?' I said as scathingly as I could, felling my cheeks grow red with the same red-hot anger that was gushing all over my body. How dare he?
'I didn't mean-'
'Are you implying, MR O'Connell, that I am lacking some capability which men are fortunate enough to have, which allows them to sleep comfortably on a hard surface?' I continued, noting with satisfaction that he no longer seemed surprised, as he had after my first outburst, but was beginning to look positively angry.
'Look here, lady-'
'You are perfectly aware of what my name is, Mr O'Connell. I'll thank you to use it.' I said coldly, watching his eyes flash. But although he opened his mouth, I never found out what he felt necessary to point out to me, as Jonathan had staggered to his feel and stepped between us.
'Evie, he was only trying to help! For God's sake, listen to him before you tear him to pieces!'
'I believe I heard enough, Jonathan. Kindly stay out of this.'
Rick spoke then, which I think was rather presumptuous of him given the circumstances. Hadn't I made it clear enough that I scorned, resented and disagreed with everything he said?
'I'm sorry.'
What?
'What?'
'I'm sorry! I judged you wrong. I made a mistake. It happens! Can we just forget about it?' he asked, but I wasn't ready to speak. I was still processing the apology. I hadn't known he was capable of apologies, let alone ones that sounded sincere. Maybe it even WAS sincere. I found myself, against all odds, believing that it was.
'I.I'm sorry too.' I said quickly, to get it over with. I saw Jonathan gape, and I widened my eyes in warning for him to stay quiet, but the alcohol was beginning to take its toll, and he took not notice.
'I say, you ought to feel privileged, O'Connell. I haven't heard Evie say she was sorry for anything since when we were children and our parents forced her to apologise to that little fellow down the road -now what was him name again? Charles? -who she'd kicked in the, erm, leg, for his suggestion that she go home and play with her dolls instead of joining our game of cops and robbers! She's usually too stubborn to admit she's wrong, right old mum?'
I chose to ignore my imbecile of a brother, who is obviously incapable of realising that there are some things one does not reveal to strangers, particularly things which will cause the said strangers to get the wrong idea. With considerable consternation I realised Mr O'Connell probably now thought that I.that I.well.
'If I didn't know my rather reclusive sister any better, I'd say she fancied you, O'Connell.' Jonathan continued blithely, totally oblivious to the tension he was creating. Mr O'Connell was as red as the blood that was causing it to appear so tinged, and I'm sure I was not all that pale myself. I could easily have done some damage to my careless brother just then, but as he was sauntering off once again towards where the warden was sprawled, I decided to add it to his ever-growing tab.
Mr O'Connell and I were left standing around, blushing like fools, and trying not to look at each other. I tried to speak but there were no words!
This had never happened before. I ALWAYS had words before!
I glanced at Mr O'Connell, who I saw was similarly impaired, and suddenly the humour of the situation became incredibly apparent. Perhaps it was the effect of watching the others consuming vast amounts of liquor, or inhaling some sort of gas the liquor released, which in either case had the same effect on me as drinking excessive amounts of alcohol myself. I can't think of any other plausible excuse- I mean, REASON, for what I did next:
I began to laugh.
Great, choking sobs of amusement broke from my throat and my mouth, and I covered my mouth in alarm. Why couldn't I stop laughing? I tried to force myself, but to no avail. As I was obviously not to blame for my chortles, it must have been O'Connell's fault. Everything else was his fault, why not this too?
Irritating man!
All this ran though my brain in a matter of moments, and then I did the only thing I COULD do under the circumstances, to preserve my facade of being a Responsible Scholar, to prevent the inauspicious Mr O'Connell from doing any more damage, and to ensure he never knew I was prone to sudden fits of giggling hysteria:
I turned tail and ran.
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'Hey Beni! Looks to me like you're on the wrong side of the river!' O'Connell shot back, and I saw a ridiculous amount satisfaction in his eyes that he was able to articulate such a brilliant -or so he thought- comeback.
Insufferable man! It was entirely his fault I was drenched from head to foot with pond scum in my hair, with all my supplies and books lost forever in the depths of the Nile, and only a rather revealing nightgown covering me, or, more to the point, NOT covering me.
This was unfortunately attracting the attention of the rude little warden. He was staring at me in a most disconcerting manner. The nerve! I waited until Jonathan and O'Connell were safely out of earshot up the bank before snapping, 'It's not polite to stare, you know.' He held up his hands as if pleading innocent to my charges. Under the circumstances, I thought it better not to begin any sort of verbal battle, so I set him go with a sound glare before trailing after the others, who had wandered a little down the river and were in the middle of some sort of argument of their own.
'I don't mean to dampen your enthusiasm or anything, O'Connell, but don't you think we ought to wait until it's light enough to tell which direction we're walking in before we attempt to travel?' Jonathan whined, as O'Connell spread his gunnysack out on a rock and started reloading one of his weapons with ammunition. He rolled his eyes at Jonathan, obviously finding his cowardice a bit hard to take, a sentiment I could well understand. Jonathan's lack of enthusiasm for any activity likely to render him injured, discomforted or out of pocket had long been a sore point. God knows where he got such an attitude -or lack of attitude- from. Both our parents had been regular adventurers, ready for anything life threw their way. If they were here now- but I couldn't think like that. Not thinking like that was how I got by.
'If we wait 'til light you better kiss that five hundred bucks goodbye.' Mr O'Connell told my brother, causing me to narrow my eyes in suspicion.
'WHAT five hundred dollars, Mr O'Connell?' I asked, and both men jumped guiltily, obviously not having heard my approach. Mr O'Connell quickly turned away and fumbled with a silly gun, while Jonathan pretended to be intensely interested in some vile contraption or another he grabbed hastily from O'Connell's extensive collection. Obviously neither of them had any intention of divulging any information, which only made me all the more determined to weasel it out of the conniving wretches.
'What five hundred dollars, Jonathan?' I asked sternly as the warden came loitering up. He positioned himself one a nearby rock from which he could stare at me all he liked without the others noticing. I found this severely irritating, not to mention downright ill mannered, and I considered asking him if he'd like the name of the dress-shop I purchased my nightgown from, as he obviously admired it very much. However, upon reflection, I decided it was worth foregoing this small triumph to maintain my concealment of the friction between the warden and myself.
'Umm, just a harmless wager O'Connell made with the American fellows we met on the barge. Silly lot of codswallop, really. Something they agreed on while we thrashing them at pok- I mean, while we were having a few drin- I mean, it's nothing to do with me, Evie, I swear!' Jonathan babbled, not very convincingly. I glanced at Mr O'Connell, who from his expression and stance I could tell was going to stay out of it and refrain from incriminating Jonathan or indeed saying anything at all on the matter.
I must confess I found this loyalty to my brother rather sweet.
And for that reason, I told myself, I should despise Mr O'Connell all the more! How dare he reveal any admirable human qualities! How dare he make himself attractive to me! How dare he be the first decent poker partner my brother has ever had!
Infuriating man!
I could see no-one was going to explain things any further, so I decided to leave the matter until such time as I could hammer it out of Jonathan easily, like the next time he was drunk, singing sea shanties and mistaking himself for the Pirate King.
By the time I had come out of this train of thought, the others had dispersed, and I was left standing by myself, a situation I did not enjoy in the least. Solitude in the middle of the desert when one had not the foggiest idea when one was could be rather alarming.
Not that I was alarmed! I simply wanted to find the others, that was all. That was nothing to be ashamed about!
I glanced around once more, and on closer inspection managed to make out a few figures in the darkness. I peered closer, and managed to identify them.
The warden, I noticed, had pulled Mr O'Connell aside and was conferring about something or other, possibly the best way to seduce a half-dressed girl in the middle of the desert, a topic that Mr O'Connell, I felt sure, would be only too familiar with. He probably liked women of the blond, bosomy variety, who would sit on his lap and share his vulgar beer. That sort of woman wouldn't need a brain of her own- O'Connell's would suffice, should she need such facilities at all, which was doubtful. Unless, of course, she needed to count the number of men with which she had.had.
Never mind.
The prospect of joining their conversation was entirely unappealing, considering the unconventional type of talk I imagined them to be having. This raised a problem- what else was there to do?
I looked around and spotted Jonathan wandering down to the river, probably to have a few drinks on the sly. Ha! If he thought he was going to get drunk at a time like this, when we were about to begin a long and perilous -alright, NOT perilous- journey, then he was sorely mistaken. I, Evelyn, would singly-handedly stop him from disgracing our family, himself, myself, and the name of the English in this foreign land!
Now also seemed as good a time as any to secure a shirt or some other appropriate item of clothing from Jonathan, to foil any plans or delusions the warden might have about the long night ahead.
I sidled up to my brother discreetly, not wanting the others to know of my intentions or their origins. Jonathan, I saw with some relief -and, admittedly, disappointment, as I couldn't interrogate him about the elusive five hundred dollars or make an English heroine/role-model/medal winner of myself- was not involved in any sketchy behaviour likely to result in a hangover tomorrow morning which I would inevitably have to clean up after. Instead, I registered with some surprise, he was skimming stones into the river. This was a skill that my father had taught us when we were small. Jonathan had never been very good at it, which reflected in his clumsy attempts now. Each stone, after its route was painstakingly planned and calculated by Jonathan, simply plopped into the murky water and sank promptly to the bottom. However, far from being discouraged, after each attempt my brother bent down and chose another stone.
Although Jonathan seemed to find this occupation immensely entertaining, I was soon bored, and began searching for any other sources of amusement. I found a suitable distraction to be looking across the river, where I could see the other passengers from the barge and watch the various activities they were engaged in. They were leading horses and camels around, setting up encampments, and yelling instructions or curses to each other. My cheeks burned at some such curses, and I tried to block out the interaction, but to no avail -the scholar in me immediately translated any words I picked up. So I turned to Jonathan and cleared my throat.
'Umm, Jonathan?'
'Yes, old mum? Something up?' he asked, perhaps noticing my agitated tone.
'It's a lovely night, isn't it?' I began weakly.
'Yes, I suppose so, although the reason we're out here observing it in the first place is far from lovely,' he said rather wryly, grimacing, no doubt imagining sleeping on a hard surface tonight as opposed to the soft mattress -equipped with blankets and pillows- he would have had on the barge. What a baby!
'Mmm. Jonathan?'
'What is it?'
'Nothing, really. Only.well, I.I'm cold.' I lied, hoping to secure his jacket withought revealing the real reason behind my need for it. Jonathan was far too cowardly to challenge the warden should he bother me, but he would verbally berate the man at least, and, if his past attempts were anything to judge by, he would do so very embarrassingly.
'So am I, now that you mention it,' Jonathan said breezily, tossing another wretched stone into the water and watching it sink. My efforts thus frustrated, I reflected that he could be downright vexing when he wanted to be. He rarely saw something directly in front of him unless it was pointed out, and had several scars on his forehead to prove it. Subtlety was utterly wasted on him.
'It's a pity your clothes are all at the bottom of the Nile. You could have put on a jacket, or something.' he continued, and I gave up my cause as lost. Unless I came right out and asked him, I would never get my hands on his silly old jacket.
'Yes, a great pity.' I said sadly, giving up. 'Well, we'd better be getting back to the others. We have been gone for quite a while, and I suppose Mr O'Connell will be anxious to start out.'
Jonathan amiably threw his last stone, and together we walked up the bank to where we had left the warden and Mr O'Connell. I was surprised to see that they were in the process of clearing a space between some rocks, for all appearances as if they were preparing some sort of sleeping place!
'Why, Mr O'Connell!' I cried, too amazed that he'd assented to Jonathan's whingeing to remember I had decided to be cross with him for the remainder of the expedition, maybe even exceeding it- not that we would see him again, of course. But maybe I'd run into him in Cairo.
'Aren't we leaving after all?' I continued, banishing the thought of never seeing the man in front of me again. Heaven knows why I found the thought so utterly distressing- actually, not DISTRESSING, but merely not entirely to my taste.
O'Connell, who had been stopped near the ground clearing away rocks and sharp sticks, stood up and brushed the sand and dirt off his great big hands. I tried not to stare too much at him and his ever-increasing attractiveness, which, I felt sure was nearing its pinnacle, but found the simple action of diverting my gaze quite impossible. It had never been hard before! Why, I was getting quite as bad as the warden!
He looked down at me with something I could not name in his eyes, something different. or maybe it had been there all along but I hadn't seen it, being too busy trying to stay angry at him.
'No.'
'Jolly good, old boy, jolly good.' Jonathan cried before I could reply, and I was forced to leave my mouth, which I had opened in preparation for continued interaction, hanging open like a great ghastly fish trap. I watched Jonathan slap Mr O'Connell on the back in his enthusiasm, drawing him away to discuss the eventual travel arrangements further, an action I quite envied him for, having never actually touched O'Connell' s back myself.his mouth and shirt yes, but nothing with muscles.
I was rudely awakened from my enchanting daydream about touching Mr O'Connell's muscular, masculine back by that illustrious -or so he thought- personage himself. I had not seen him approach, but approach he had, and now I looked up to see him looming in front of me. I glanced past him and saw the others stretched out on the ground, busy sharing a bottle of liquor the warden had produced, triumphantly, from his grotty little bag, the contents of which I had guessed at only a few hours ago, but had soon had to cease such thoughts for fear they would give me nightmares.
'Are you gonna be all right on the ground?' Mr O'Connell asked rather gruffly, causing all my initial antipathy towards him to return with a vengeance. Gone was his mounting attractiveness. Instead, I saw before me the dirty, hairy, flee-bitten personage I first encountered at Cairo Prison. Unfortunately, no sooner had I summoned up this image than I was remembering The Kiss.the wonderful, amazing, confusing kiss which had rendered me speechless and was threatening to do so again.
Damn you, Mr O'Con- oh! The nerve of the man! His vulgar speech habits were rubbing off on ME! HOW DARE HE?
'Is there some alternative you have not yet revealed, but will, after determining that I won't be all right? Is a feather bed going to fall from the sky? Have you buried a dozen pillows under the tree over there? Or are you suggesting I sleep IN the tree? Do you suppose that would be more agreeable than the ground to a weak, helpless, vulnerable woman such as myself?' I said as scathingly as I could, felling my cheeks grow red with the same red-hot anger that was gushing all over my body. How dare he?
'I didn't mean-'
'Are you implying, MR O'Connell, that I am lacking some capability which men are fortunate enough to have, which allows them to sleep comfortably on a hard surface?' I continued, noting with satisfaction that he no longer seemed surprised, as he had after my first outburst, but was beginning to look positively angry.
'Look here, lady-'
'You are perfectly aware of what my name is, Mr O'Connell. I'll thank you to use it.' I said coldly, watching his eyes flash. But although he opened his mouth, I never found out what he felt necessary to point out to me, as Jonathan had staggered to his feel and stepped between us.
'Evie, he was only trying to help! For God's sake, listen to him before you tear him to pieces!'
'I believe I heard enough, Jonathan. Kindly stay out of this.'
Rick spoke then, which I think was rather presumptuous of him given the circumstances. Hadn't I made it clear enough that I scorned, resented and disagreed with everything he said?
'I'm sorry.'
What?
'What?'
'I'm sorry! I judged you wrong. I made a mistake. It happens! Can we just forget about it?' he asked, but I wasn't ready to speak. I was still processing the apology. I hadn't known he was capable of apologies, let alone ones that sounded sincere. Maybe it even WAS sincere. I found myself, against all odds, believing that it was.
'I.I'm sorry too.' I said quickly, to get it over with. I saw Jonathan gape, and I widened my eyes in warning for him to stay quiet, but the alcohol was beginning to take its toll, and he took not notice.
'I say, you ought to feel privileged, O'Connell. I haven't heard Evie say she was sorry for anything since when we were children and our parents forced her to apologise to that little fellow down the road -now what was him name again? Charles? -who she'd kicked in the, erm, leg, for his suggestion that she go home and play with her dolls instead of joining our game of cops and robbers! She's usually too stubborn to admit she's wrong, right old mum?'
I chose to ignore my imbecile of a brother, who is obviously incapable of realising that there are some things one does not reveal to strangers, particularly things which will cause the said strangers to get the wrong idea. With considerable consternation I realised Mr O'Connell probably now thought that I.that I.well.
'If I didn't know my rather reclusive sister any better, I'd say she fancied you, O'Connell.' Jonathan continued blithely, totally oblivious to the tension he was creating. Mr O'Connell was as red as the blood that was causing it to appear so tinged, and I'm sure I was not all that pale myself. I could easily have done some damage to my careless brother just then, but as he was sauntering off once again towards where the warden was sprawled, I decided to add it to his ever-growing tab.
Mr O'Connell and I were left standing around, blushing like fools, and trying not to look at each other. I tried to speak but there were no words!
This had never happened before. I ALWAYS had words before!
I glanced at Mr O'Connell, who I saw was similarly impaired, and suddenly the humour of the situation became incredibly apparent. Perhaps it was the effect of watching the others consuming vast amounts of liquor, or inhaling some sort of gas the liquor released, which in either case had the same effect on me as drinking excessive amounts of alcohol myself. I can't think of any other plausible excuse- I mean, REASON, for what I did next:
I began to laugh.
Great, choking sobs of amusement broke from my throat and my mouth, and I covered my mouth in alarm. Why couldn't I stop laughing? I tried to force myself, but to no avail. As I was obviously not to blame for my chortles, it must have been O'Connell's fault. Everything else was his fault, why not this too?
Irritating man!
All this ran though my brain in a matter of moments, and then I did the only thing I COULD do under the circumstances, to preserve my facade of being a Responsible Scholar, to prevent the inauspicious Mr O'Connell from doing any more damage, and to ensure he never knew I was prone to sudden fits of giggling hysteria:
I turned tail and ran.