THE LOST WORLD
- The Spider and the Fly
"He's too old," Marguerite nearly laughed the words.
Veronica smiled and shrugged. "Well, we're not getting any younger," She said, as she took a generous pull from the gourd in her hand – she squinted tight, wrinkling her nose.
Marguerite reached out to take the container. "You'd better slow down," she said, claiming the gourd for herself. "One of us needs to remember the way back to the tree house." She matched Veronica's swig.
"I don't think Roxton is that old... How old is he?"
"Two," Marguerite answered, with a sly grin.
"Two?" Veronica looked puzzled.
"Yeah… Too damn OLD!" Marguerite fell back on to the grass, giggling at her own joke.
Veronica landed beside her, sharing the laughter.
They had waited in the small clearing all morning, guarding the hot-air balloon. By mid afternoon, Marguerite had gotten bored and decided to sample a few of the trade goods. Now, the two women lay in the grass, passing the gourd back and forth – the potent liquor clearly having its way.
"I think he's handsome," Veronica said, watching close for Marguerite's reaction.
"Sure he is. I remember seeing him once, at a fancy gathering in London. All the little debutantes flitting about, biding for his attention – like butterflies in too many layers of silk."
"You knew Roxton? Before you came to the plateau?" Veronica asked, surprised.
"Only from my side of the velvet rope, of course; I don't think Lord John Roxton ever saw me."
Veronica sat up and took another small drink.
"John can be quite dashing… no doubt." Marguerite languished in her memory. She sat up next to Veronica and reached for the gourd.
"So, what will happen, if you don't find a way off the plateau?"
"Bite your tongue!"
"Is it really so bad here, Marguerite?"
"Yes! …and no. This is why I don't drink!" She snatched up the liquor and took a long pull. "If John had asked me to dance that night in London, we'd have likely ended up in the cloak room."
Veronica took the gourd and replaced the stopper.
"I'm not the kind of girl you settle down with, Veronica; I'm an amusing story, told over brandy and cigars at the men's club."
"Maybe you were once, but not here – and certainly never to John."
" –Says the jungle princess, perched high in her ivory tree house."
"Don't do that, Marguerite; you use your anger to push people away."
Marguerite crossed her arms. "In the story of the spider and the fly," she slurred, "have you ever imagined me the fly?"
Veronica pulled absently at the grass. "No, never."
"Then, don't start now. When I want my fly, I'll have him – and all his little butterflies too." Marguerite stood just as the men entered the clearing, loaded down with packs of trade goods.
"You ladies look a might flush," Challenger said, as he loaded his first bundle into the balloon.
Roxton pointed out the gourd in Veronica's hand. "I think I see the cause," He said, with a raised eyebrow.
"You were gone half the bloody day." Marguerite took a few unsteady steps toward the balloon.
"Easy now." Roxton's quick hand steadied her tilt.
She leaned heavy on his shoulder, her face just inches from his. A soldier fly buzzed up annoyingly between them, but Marguerite had no eyes for the fly today... She only saw the man helping her to the balloon.
- END -