Author's Note: This is the second chapter, and there will probably be one
more, eventually, about the next morning. I'm still working on my other
story, but I'm kind of stuck so it may be a few days before I post the next
chapter of that.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Again, I argued that the cause of my irrational behaviour was mysteriously and unexplainably linked to the warden's liquor. If not under the influence of alcohol, why on earth would I have acted in such a thoroughly irresponsible manner? Why would I have darted into the surroundings of the Nile River, alone, with no knowledge of the surrounding countryside, wearing nothing but a revealing nightgown, which was looking a little worse for wear by this time, being covered in tears placed in most inconvenient places teamed with stains of every colour imaginable?
As I ran as fast I could away from the scene of my latest disaster, with the sole aim of securing, at last, some peace and privacy, I heard Mr O'Connell yell out, 'Evie!'
Well! Of all the rude, inconsiderate, indecorum things to do, shortening my name like that!
Then again, it's exactly what I'd expect from a rude, inconsiderate, indecorum person like him.
'Better let her go, old chum.' I dimly heard Jonathan slur. 'She can be an obstinate old hag at times.'
I resisted the urge to turn around and run back, just to slap my obnoxious brother on the face. I had a feeling that if I did so I would not be permitted to run off once more. (What a controlling waste of space Mr O'Connell was! Just where did it state in our admittedly verbal contract that HE was to be in charge, making all the decisions and ordering us all about? If I recalled rightly, I was paying him.)
Besides, Jonathan wasn't going anywhere.
He would keep.
I stopped at last a few minutes later, having found a nice, uncomfortable rock by the river on which to sit. I arranged myself carefully, in case anyone should think to follow me. It would not do to resemble the old hag Jonathan had called me if anyone should. Not that anyone would.
I tried to keep my mind blank, as I was afraid of what I might think of if I didn't. But it was as hopeless as looking away from O'Connell's piercing gaze had been. I had been unable to move at all, so strong had the connection been.
It really was unexplainable, how I couldn't stop thinking about this man! I didn't even like him in the least! Why, he was rude, presumptuous, vulgar, dirty, violent.muscly, loyal, caring, sweet.
Sweet? What was I thinking? Mr O'Connell was far from sweet! Just because he had kissed me -and in Cairo Prison, too- did not make him sweet. It made him course and assuming!
It really was unexplainable.
I tried thinking of other things, like Jonathan or the rude little warden or the Book of Amun Re, but all I could think of was The Kiss.
I was busy chastising myself for this reason when I heard a voice calling repeatedly, getting louder and louder. Someone was coming! It probably wasn't Jonathan or Mr O'Connell, or even the warden, because whomever it was emerging from the opposite direction from whence I'd come, and they were speaking Arabic besides. Swearing in it, actually. Unless Jonathan had been taking lessons without my knowledge, it couldn't be him. And that was highly unlikely, given that every time I suggested it he refused, for reasons unbeknownst to me.
Probably because he'd have to leave the bar for my than ten minutes at a time in order to secure a teacher and attend classes.
I scrambled off the rock and ducked behind it under a little rock overhang, for I knew that if I didn't conceal myself then the newcomer would see me in my bedraggled state. As I did so, I trod on my nightgown, and I -as well as everyone else in Egypt, knowing my lack of luck- heard a loud tearing sound. I examined the damage as I crouched behind the rock, and grimaced. It was not good news at all. The nightgown- if the thoroughly dilapidated garment could still be given a name other then 'rags'- was now knee length, revealing considerably more skin than I wanted anyone to see, particularly the rude little warden. The torn part was nowhere to be seen. If only I had gotten that jacket from Jonathan! Although I suppose pants would have been more useful now.
I heard someone burst into the clearing, still swearing colourfully in Arabic. Wait a minute, that voice sounded quite familiar.
'Shit!' I heard someone say, and I realised it was O'Connell. To say I was absurdly pleased with this discovery would be quite an understatement. Images of burly Egyptian men brandishing swords and/or Jonathan's head on a pike vanished from my mind and I remembered O'Connell's face as he gazed down at me and I couldn't look away. A few moments later it became apparent that the hypnotic eyelock STILL held power over me, as in my joy of this turn of events I abruptly stood, forgetting all about the rock overhang.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
'Evelyn? Evelyn, wake up!'
I stirred and tried to sit up but found I couldn't move from my prostate position flat on my back. How odd! And how had I got here? I opened my eyes and blinked blearily up at the multitude of fuzzy heads bent over me.
'Don't try to sit up yet,' the heads advised gently. 'God, Evelyn, you knocked yourself out!' they continued, shaking from side to side in unison.
'I did?' I asked, confused. Why had I done that?
The heads laughed. 'Yeah.'
'What happened?' I asked, rubbing my throbbing head in chagrin. Why did things like this always happen to me? Why didn't anyone else get sexually harassed my prison wardens or tear their nightgowns to shreds of knock themselves out?
Oh, well. At least now I could sympathise with Jonathan the next time he had a hangover.
The heads stopped laughing and looked sternly at me.
'You ran off into the desert completely without warning withought telling anyone where you were going! Did you even know yourself?'
I opened my mouth to reply that it was certainly none of their business, not that I could remember clearly anyway, but the heads plunged on without waiting for a response. Really, I thought crossly, they could have a little more respect for a girl flat on her back and with, for all anyone knew, extensive brain damage!
Not to mention repetitive searing pains in the head.
'When you didn't come back, I went out looking for you. Finally found part of your nightdress torn to shreds on the ground, with you no where in sight. Then I heard this thump behind a rock and there you were, completely out of it. You'd obviously tried to stand up under the overhang.'
Sometime during this speech my impaired vision cleared and I saw with surprise that there was only ONE head hanging dangerously close to mine, and that it was O'Connell's. What's more, he had a tiny smile on his face, as if he found the situation amusing! However, what I found more intriguing was the concern written all over his face, almost concealing the tiny smile. It was almost as if he. well. cared.
'Why did you look for me?' I asked breathlessly, thinking about the last time his head had been this close to mine.
'Evie!' Jonathan shouted, and came crashing clumsily out of the undergrowth, followed closely by his newfound drinking friend the warden. My brother's timing had never been notably remarkable, but for this episode, which was particularly inopportune, I swore I would extract revenge. Painful revenge.
And painful for him, not for me.
'Just what do you think you are doing, O'Connell?' Jonathan demanded, as if he imagined there was something he could do about it. He could barely walk straight and I could smell the alcohol on his breath from ten metres away. Even if he had been sober, he would have been unable to do the hunk- whoops, sorry, I mean hulk- who was Mr O'Connell any damage.
Rick, I saw with disappointment, was moving away from me and getting up off his knees. Soon all I could see of him from where I lay were two of the dirtiest boots I have ever seen, which could have done with a good scrub, should O'Connell have any sort of cleaning implements in his possession at all, which was doubtful.
Very doubtful.
'Evelyn had an accident.' I heard him say. The warden snickered.
Rick turned on him in an instant. I could imagine him pointing an accusing finger in the warden's face, although sadly I was not able to bear witness to the happy event of the warden getting a brief comeuppance, as I was otherwise engaged in lying flat on my back.
'Look, pal,' Rick sneered at him. 'you can either lend a hand getting her back to base or just bugger off and pass out somewhere yourself.'
I gave Mr O'Connell silent congratulations on his admirable handling of the warden, who murmured apologies. Feigned, no doubt, but still. He had been put in his place speedily and competently.
In the meantime, Jonathan stumbled over to me and offered me his hand, which shook as he swayed on his feet.
'Here, old mum,' he said cheerily. 'I'll give you a hand.'
I preferred not to take Jonathan up on his offer, as I was doubtful I would stay on my feet for long if I did.
'Mr O'Connell,' I began, 'I am doubtful of the abilities of my brother or the warden in helping my back to the camp in their current state of intoxication. I would be grateful if you would help me to my feet, and then I will be able to manage on my own.'
O'Connell looked as doubtful of this as I had been of Jonathan's offer.
'You'll fall.' he said gruffly, and strode to my side once more. What happened next is quite possibly the most embarrassing occurrence I have ever had the misfortune to live through, of which there have been a multitude since the day I learned to walk. Probably even sooner.
That imprudent rogue Mr O'Connell actually stopped down and threw me carefully over his shoulder as if I was his gunnysack! The nerve of the man!
'What do you think you are doing?' I asked, too astonished to be furious, as soon as I could speak.
'You can't walk- you can barely move.' was the only explanation I was given, however, and I didn't bother inquiring further, being quite sure I wouldn't be satisfied with any elaboration he might attempt to make.
'I demand that you put me down at once!' I said, as regally as I could.
To my anger this seemed to amuse the man. Of all the despicable, crude, disrespectful people I had had the misfortune of being aquatinted with, this man topped the list!
'And what exactly are you gonna do if I don't? Spit at me?' he asked, laughing in my face. Well, as my face was over his shoulder, he was technically laughing towards my legs.which were rather unconventionally bare.
'I'm sure I'll be able to think of something!' I shot back.
'Well, you better start thinking, 'cos I'm not gonna put you down.' he replied, and began carrying me along the riverside, the others trailing behind, arguing about the brand of champagne which most impressed women.
'I think they'd be more impressed -not to mention astounded- if you managed to stay sober on a date for once, Jonathan.' I couldn't resist pointing out.
When I got no response to my kind contribution to their vulgar conversation, I turned my attention to Mr O'Connell instead, who I remembered I was vexed at. So I beat my fists on his back as hard as I was able, but to no avail. Soon I gave up and lay limp in his grasp.
Just as we were nearing the clearing that we'd selected to spend the night in, I realised with frustration that I'd fulfilled my dream of touching O'Connell's back, but hadn't bothered to feel any muscles!
Infuriating man! It was all his fault!
We arrived back at the camp, and Mr O'Connell barked at Jonathan and the warden to donate any clothing they didn't strictly need to me, to make me more comfortable. It was on the tip of my tounge to refuse his coarse offer as a matter of principles, which strictly dictated that I should not allow myself to be treated differently solely because of my gender. However, upon reflection I reminded myself that helping a person who has been injured is an entirely different thing. There was really no reason why I should refuse his offer.
Well, no reason I could think of.
Having extracted Jonathans jacket from him- my strenuous efforts achieved nothing, but he asked for it and Jonathan meekly handed it over!- Mr O'Connell bid me put it on, which I duly did. Then he sat me down and gave me the rest of the garments to wrap around myself.
'Thank you,' I said confusedly, wondering were this treatment was coming from. He had never showed any indication of being caring or considerate before! In fact, he had seemed to go out of him way to make me uncomfortable.
'Just don't lie down, or you'll probably get concussion.' O'Connell told me, even though I already knew how to take care of myself and I certainly knew what caused concussion. Seven years without parents had at least profited me that much. However, O'Connell hadn't known, so I supposed I couldn't get angry at him, amusing as such an activity invariably was.
'I'll be fine.' I assured him, giving him the tiniest of smiles, which I soon saw reflected on his own face.
'I know you will,' he said. 'you always are.'
I didn't have to see my face to know that I was blushing furiously by this time, the product of his proximity and compliments. By this time, I had all but given up on ever determining why Mr O'Connell so greatly affected me in such a number of different ways. I was dazedly about to make some sort of trivial comment about the beautiful weather (having temporarily forgotten it was midnight and pitch black) when O'Connell stood up.
'Better make the fire,' he said gruffly, jerking his head in the direction of the designated space. 'Doesn't look like they're going to.'
Mr O'Connell had set Jonathan and the warden the task of creating a fire we could spend the night sleeping around, or, in their cases, drinking around. They had managed to collect some firewood -which was spread confusingly all over the clearing in a number of small piles- before dropping to the ground across the cleared fire spot from me and taking a 'break' from which they never got up.
I noticed that Mr O'Connell was just as competent at making good fires as he was at scolding prison wardens or carrying injured women. What a surprise! The man might yet by moulded into a respectable and useful member of society. If only I could do something about his swearing.
'Damn it!' O'Connell roared, as the fire petered out quite without warning.
I made an irritated noise as he lit it once more and fed the flames some kindling.
'Honestly, Mr O'Connell, it that vulgar language really necessary?' I asked impatiently.
'Is it really necessary for you to take offence at everything a guy says around here?' he retorted, shuffling back from the fire and taking a seat next to me. He fixed me with that piecing gaze which seems to have the same effect as being hypnotised.
'That's hardly fair.' I said hotly.
'It's not?' he asked.
'No, it's not! Besides, if you'd refrain from uttering incessant insults then I wouldn't have to take offence at anything at all!' I cried. Oh, the injustice of being wrongly accused!
'I say, steady on, Evie, steady on,' Jonathan cried from where he was helping the warden devour yet another bottle of liquor from his seemingly endless supply.
'Maybe we should change the subject,' Rick suggested mildly, raising his eyebrows at my ire. One day, I'd show him!
Until then, I decided, I would make a conscious effort to be pleasant towards him, as a way of showing my gratitude for his help when I injured myself.
Not that I needed his help.
'What would you like to talk about?' I asked sulkily. (I would try to be pleasant, but that didn't wean I had to enjoy it.)
'You.'
'Me?'
'Yeah.'
'But you already know everything that it's proper for a stranger to know.' I pointed out. 'If you want to hear anything else, you shall have to wait until we are more intimately aquatinted, or else until I am intoxicated, which is the only other situation in which I would be willing to divulge more information about my life.'
'Right.' Mr O'Connell said dryly. There was a silence.
'Well, then, I'll just have to tell you about me.' he continued.
'You?'
'Yeah. Me.'
'All right,' I agreed. 'Just refrain from describing any gory details, time in jail, and activities which caused you to end up there.'
For the next two hours, I found myself listening to the extraordinary details of Mr O'Connell's life, which was -surprisingly- very entertaining to say the least. I had guessed his life would be full of adventure, violence, and vulgar language, but I never would have thought that I would find it interesting!
Jonathan and the warden missed out on the entirety of the narrative, being to busy working their awkward way through 'Pirates of Penzance'. They wore matching crowns made out of the labels off their bottles of alcohol and sang all the lyrics they could remember -which was a pitiful few, really, considering the number of times Jonathan and I had seen that musical- at the top of their voices.
But somehow, despite their resounding, boisterous cries of 'for I am a Pirate King and 'hurrah for the Pirate King', I heard every word Rick said with perfect clarity. I could not have imagined a more diverting way to pass the time.
And, despite my best efforts, I couldn't blame my enthusiasm on the liquor being consumed across the fire or on the man sitting next to me relating his life story. Deep down, I didn't even want to.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Again, I argued that the cause of my irrational behaviour was mysteriously and unexplainably linked to the warden's liquor. If not under the influence of alcohol, why on earth would I have acted in such a thoroughly irresponsible manner? Why would I have darted into the surroundings of the Nile River, alone, with no knowledge of the surrounding countryside, wearing nothing but a revealing nightgown, which was looking a little worse for wear by this time, being covered in tears placed in most inconvenient places teamed with stains of every colour imaginable?
As I ran as fast I could away from the scene of my latest disaster, with the sole aim of securing, at last, some peace and privacy, I heard Mr O'Connell yell out, 'Evie!'
Well! Of all the rude, inconsiderate, indecorum things to do, shortening my name like that!
Then again, it's exactly what I'd expect from a rude, inconsiderate, indecorum person like him.
'Better let her go, old chum.' I dimly heard Jonathan slur. 'She can be an obstinate old hag at times.'
I resisted the urge to turn around and run back, just to slap my obnoxious brother on the face. I had a feeling that if I did so I would not be permitted to run off once more. (What a controlling waste of space Mr O'Connell was! Just where did it state in our admittedly verbal contract that HE was to be in charge, making all the decisions and ordering us all about? If I recalled rightly, I was paying him.)
Besides, Jonathan wasn't going anywhere.
He would keep.
I stopped at last a few minutes later, having found a nice, uncomfortable rock by the river on which to sit. I arranged myself carefully, in case anyone should think to follow me. It would not do to resemble the old hag Jonathan had called me if anyone should. Not that anyone would.
I tried to keep my mind blank, as I was afraid of what I might think of if I didn't. But it was as hopeless as looking away from O'Connell's piercing gaze had been. I had been unable to move at all, so strong had the connection been.
It really was unexplainable, how I couldn't stop thinking about this man! I didn't even like him in the least! Why, he was rude, presumptuous, vulgar, dirty, violent.muscly, loyal, caring, sweet.
Sweet? What was I thinking? Mr O'Connell was far from sweet! Just because he had kissed me -and in Cairo Prison, too- did not make him sweet. It made him course and assuming!
It really was unexplainable.
I tried thinking of other things, like Jonathan or the rude little warden or the Book of Amun Re, but all I could think of was The Kiss.
I was busy chastising myself for this reason when I heard a voice calling repeatedly, getting louder and louder. Someone was coming! It probably wasn't Jonathan or Mr O'Connell, or even the warden, because whomever it was emerging from the opposite direction from whence I'd come, and they were speaking Arabic besides. Swearing in it, actually. Unless Jonathan had been taking lessons without my knowledge, it couldn't be him. And that was highly unlikely, given that every time I suggested it he refused, for reasons unbeknownst to me.
Probably because he'd have to leave the bar for my than ten minutes at a time in order to secure a teacher and attend classes.
I scrambled off the rock and ducked behind it under a little rock overhang, for I knew that if I didn't conceal myself then the newcomer would see me in my bedraggled state. As I did so, I trod on my nightgown, and I -as well as everyone else in Egypt, knowing my lack of luck- heard a loud tearing sound. I examined the damage as I crouched behind the rock, and grimaced. It was not good news at all. The nightgown- if the thoroughly dilapidated garment could still be given a name other then 'rags'- was now knee length, revealing considerably more skin than I wanted anyone to see, particularly the rude little warden. The torn part was nowhere to be seen. If only I had gotten that jacket from Jonathan! Although I suppose pants would have been more useful now.
I heard someone burst into the clearing, still swearing colourfully in Arabic. Wait a minute, that voice sounded quite familiar.
'Shit!' I heard someone say, and I realised it was O'Connell. To say I was absurdly pleased with this discovery would be quite an understatement. Images of burly Egyptian men brandishing swords and/or Jonathan's head on a pike vanished from my mind and I remembered O'Connell's face as he gazed down at me and I couldn't look away. A few moments later it became apparent that the hypnotic eyelock STILL held power over me, as in my joy of this turn of events I abruptly stood, forgetting all about the rock overhang.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
'Evelyn? Evelyn, wake up!'
I stirred and tried to sit up but found I couldn't move from my prostate position flat on my back. How odd! And how had I got here? I opened my eyes and blinked blearily up at the multitude of fuzzy heads bent over me.
'Don't try to sit up yet,' the heads advised gently. 'God, Evelyn, you knocked yourself out!' they continued, shaking from side to side in unison.
'I did?' I asked, confused. Why had I done that?
The heads laughed. 'Yeah.'
'What happened?' I asked, rubbing my throbbing head in chagrin. Why did things like this always happen to me? Why didn't anyone else get sexually harassed my prison wardens or tear their nightgowns to shreds of knock themselves out?
Oh, well. At least now I could sympathise with Jonathan the next time he had a hangover.
The heads stopped laughing and looked sternly at me.
'You ran off into the desert completely without warning withought telling anyone where you were going! Did you even know yourself?'
I opened my mouth to reply that it was certainly none of their business, not that I could remember clearly anyway, but the heads plunged on without waiting for a response. Really, I thought crossly, they could have a little more respect for a girl flat on her back and with, for all anyone knew, extensive brain damage!
Not to mention repetitive searing pains in the head.
'When you didn't come back, I went out looking for you. Finally found part of your nightdress torn to shreds on the ground, with you no where in sight. Then I heard this thump behind a rock and there you were, completely out of it. You'd obviously tried to stand up under the overhang.'
Sometime during this speech my impaired vision cleared and I saw with surprise that there was only ONE head hanging dangerously close to mine, and that it was O'Connell's. What's more, he had a tiny smile on his face, as if he found the situation amusing! However, what I found more intriguing was the concern written all over his face, almost concealing the tiny smile. It was almost as if he. well. cared.
'Why did you look for me?' I asked breathlessly, thinking about the last time his head had been this close to mine.
'Evie!' Jonathan shouted, and came crashing clumsily out of the undergrowth, followed closely by his newfound drinking friend the warden. My brother's timing had never been notably remarkable, but for this episode, which was particularly inopportune, I swore I would extract revenge. Painful revenge.
And painful for him, not for me.
'Just what do you think you are doing, O'Connell?' Jonathan demanded, as if he imagined there was something he could do about it. He could barely walk straight and I could smell the alcohol on his breath from ten metres away. Even if he had been sober, he would have been unable to do the hunk- whoops, sorry, I mean hulk- who was Mr O'Connell any damage.
Rick, I saw with disappointment, was moving away from me and getting up off his knees. Soon all I could see of him from where I lay were two of the dirtiest boots I have ever seen, which could have done with a good scrub, should O'Connell have any sort of cleaning implements in his possession at all, which was doubtful.
Very doubtful.
'Evelyn had an accident.' I heard him say. The warden snickered.
Rick turned on him in an instant. I could imagine him pointing an accusing finger in the warden's face, although sadly I was not able to bear witness to the happy event of the warden getting a brief comeuppance, as I was otherwise engaged in lying flat on my back.
'Look, pal,' Rick sneered at him. 'you can either lend a hand getting her back to base or just bugger off and pass out somewhere yourself.'
I gave Mr O'Connell silent congratulations on his admirable handling of the warden, who murmured apologies. Feigned, no doubt, but still. He had been put in his place speedily and competently.
In the meantime, Jonathan stumbled over to me and offered me his hand, which shook as he swayed on his feet.
'Here, old mum,' he said cheerily. 'I'll give you a hand.'
I preferred not to take Jonathan up on his offer, as I was doubtful I would stay on my feet for long if I did.
'Mr O'Connell,' I began, 'I am doubtful of the abilities of my brother or the warden in helping my back to the camp in their current state of intoxication. I would be grateful if you would help me to my feet, and then I will be able to manage on my own.'
O'Connell looked as doubtful of this as I had been of Jonathan's offer.
'You'll fall.' he said gruffly, and strode to my side once more. What happened next is quite possibly the most embarrassing occurrence I have ever had the misfortune to live through, of which there have been a multitude since the day I learned to walk. Probably even sooner.
That imprudent rogue Mr O'Connell actually stopped down and threw me carefully over his shoulder as if I was his gunnysack! The nerve of the man!
'What do you think you are doing?' I asked, too astonished to be furious, as soon as I could speak.
'You can't walk- you can barely move.' was the only explanation I was given, however, and I didn't bother inquiring further, being quite sure I wouldn't be satisfied with any elaboration he might attempt to make.
'I demand that you put me down at once!' I said, as regally as I could.
To my anger this seemed to amuse the man. Of all the despicable, crude, disrespectful people I had had the misfortune of being aquatinted with, this man topped the list!
'And what exactly are you gonna do if I don't? Spit at me?' he asked, laughing in my face. Well, as my face was over his shoulder, he was technically laughing towards my legs.which were rather unconventionally bare.
'I'm sure I'll be able to think of something!' I shot back.
'Well, you better start thinking, 'cos I'm not gonna put you down.' he replied, and began carrying me along the riverside, the others trailing behind, arguing about the brand of champagne which most impressed women.
'I think they'd be more impressed -not to mention astounded- if you managed to stay sober on a date for once, Jonathan.' I couldn't resist pointing out.
When I got no response to my kind contribution to their vulgar conversation, I turned my attention to Mr O'Connell instead, who I remembered I was vexed at. So I beat my fists on his back as hard as I was able, but to no avail. Soon I gave up and lay limp in his grasp.
Just as we were nearing the clearing that we'd selected to spend the night in, I realised with frustration that I'd fulfilled my dream of touching O'Connell's back, but hadn't bothered to feel any muscles!
Infuriating man! It was all his fault!
We arrived back at the camp, and Mr O'Connell barked at Jonathan and the warden to donate any clothing they didn't strictly need to me, to make me more comfortable. It was on the tip of my tounge to refuse his coarse offer as a matter of principles, which strictly dictated that I should not allow myself to be treated differently solely because of my gender. However, upon reflection I reminded myself that helping a person who has been injured is an entirely different thing. There was really no reason why I should refuse his offer.
Well, no reason I could think of.
Having extracted Jonathans jacket from him- my strenuous efforts achieved nothing, but he asked for it and Jonathan meekly handed it over!- Mr O'Connell bid me put it on, which I duly did. Then he sat me down and gave me the rest of the garments to wrap around myself.
'Thank you,' I said confusedly, wondering were this treatment was coming from. He had never showed any indication of being caring or considerate before! In fact, he had seemed to go out of him way to make me uncomfortable.
'Just don't lie down, or you'll probably get concussion.' O'Connell told me, even though I already knew how to take care of myself and I certainly knew what caused concussion. Seven years without parents had at least profited me that much. However, O'Connell hadn't known, so I supposed I couldn't get angry at him, amusing as such an activity invariably was.
'I'll be fine.' I assured him, giving him the tiniest of smiles, which I soon saw reflected on his own face.
'I know you will,' he said. 'you always are.'
I didn't have to see my face to know that I was blushing furiously by this time, the product of his proximity and compliments. By this time, I had all but given up on ever determining why Mr O'Connell so greatly affected me in such a number of different ways. I was dazedly about to make some sort of trivial comment about the beautiful weather (having temporarily forgotten it was midnight and pitch black) when O'Connell stood up.
'Better make the fire,' he said gruffly, jerking his head in the direction of the designated space. 'Doesn't look like they're going to.'
Mr O'Connell had set Jonathan and the warden the task of creating a fire we could spend the night sleeping around, or, in their cases, drinking around. They had managed to collect some firewood -which was spread confusingly all over the clearing in a number of small piles- before dropping to the ground across the cleared fire spot from me and taking a 'break' from which they never got up.
I noticed that Mr O'Connell was just as competent at making good fires as he was at scolding prison wardens or carrying injured women. What a surprise! The man might yet by moulded into a respectable and useful member of society. If only I could do something about his swearing.
'Damn it!' O'Connell roared, as the fire petered out quite without warning.
I made an irritated noise as he lit it once more and fed the flames some kindling.
'Honestly, Mr O'Connell, it that vulgar language really necessary?' I asked impatiently.
'Is it really necessary for you to take offence at everything a guy says around here?' he retorted, shuffling back from the fire and taking a seat next to me. He fixed me with that piecing gaze which seems to have the same effect as being hypnotised.
'That's hardly fair.' I said hotly.
'It's not?' he asked.
'No, it's not! Besides, if you'd refrain from uttering incessant insults then I wouldn't have to take offence at anything at all!' I cried. Oh, the injustice of being wrongly accused!
'I say, steady on, Evie, steady on,' Jonathan cried from where he was helping the warden devour yet another bottle of liquor from his seemingly endless supply.
'Maybe we should change the subject,' Rick suggested mildly, raising his eyebrows at my ire. One day, I'd show him!
Until then, I decided, I would make a conscious effort to be pleasant towards him, as a way of showing my gratitude for his help when I injured myself.
Not that I needed his help.
'What would you like to talk about?' I asked sulkily. (I would try to be pleasant, but that didn't wean I had to enjoy it.)
'You.'
'Me?'
'Yeah.'
'But you already know everything that it's proper for a stranger to know.' I pointed out. 'If you want to hear anything else, you shall have to wait until we are more intimately aquatinted, or else until I am intoxicated, which is the only other situation in which I would be willing to divulge more information about my life.'
'Right.' Mr O'Connell said dryly. There was a silence.
'Well, then, I'll just have to tell you about me.' he continued.
'You?'
'Yeah. Me.'
'All right,' I agreed. 'Just refrain from describing any gory details, time in jail, and activities which caused you to end up there.'
For the next two hours, I found myself listening to the extraordinary details of Mr O'Connell's life, which was -surprisingly- very entertaining to say the least. I had guessed his life would be full of adventure, violence, and vulgar language, but I never would have thought that I would find it interesting!
Jonathan and the warden missed out on the entirety of the narrative, being to busy working their awkward way through 'Pirates of Penzance'. They wore matching crowns made out of the labels off their bottles of alcohol and sang all the lyrics they could remember -which was a pitiful few, really, considering the number of times Jonathan and I had seen that musical- at the top of their voices.
But somehow, despite their resounding, boisterous cries of 'for I am a Pirate King and 'hurrah for the Pirate King', I heard every word Rick said with perfect clarity. I could not have imagined a more diverting way to pass the time.
And, despite my best efforts, I couldn't blame my enthusiasm on the liquor being consumed across the fire or on the man sitting next to me relating his life story. Deep down, I didn't even want to.