Oswald is Almost (Wo)Manhandled.

Isobel - Isabella - really didn't miss a trick.

If he didn't hate her so much he could almost have admired the devious way she had managed to get him alone, and away from Ed. Poor, deluded Ed!

He had dreaded the moment the car was out of sight of the house. Ed had stood there proudly watching and waving as they had driven away with a huge toothy smile, Oswald's heart sinking and his stomach turning over intensely as Isabella had smiled triumphantly, clearly eagerly awaiting the moment when Ed was out of view and she was free to do what she wanted to Oswald.

Or so she'd thought.

She pulled across the screen on the limo, after telling the driver: "So sorry, we have to talk - confidential business!"

Oswald had been horrified, although somehow, he had suspected that she might do something like that. He cursed himself for not being quicker off the mark.

But he would only stand so much.

"I'm warning you, woman!" he hissed quietly through clenched teeth - fearing that the driver might overhear him. "Don't you touch me!"

"Oh, Ozzy, really….."

"And I've told you before - don't call me that!"

He gripped his cane tightly, being quite prepared to produce the secret spike inside and run her through with it - and to hell with the consequences. He was about to tell her that, too.

"Mr Mayor, then," she resumed primly, looking hurt. "I've told you before - I won't touch a hair on your beautiful head! I just want to be near you, darling…"

"And don't call me that either!" His eyes flashed at her indignantly, but he kept his voice low. "This is a business appointment. Nothing more. I only did this for Ed."

"I know, dear….Mr Mayor, of course! It's one of the things I love about you, y'know. Your loyalty, your faithfulness to the one you love…"

"Spare me the pleasantries. I need a drink!" Oswald opened up the cabinet of booze he kept for such occasions, usually when he was alone and needing to make himself feel a little better about being on his own, and friendless. Now, ironically, he realised that there could be worse things in life than being alone.

"Os - Mr Mayor, really, should you be drinking…." Isabella began, then stopped mid-sentence as he glared at her threateningly.

"I'm warning you!" he rasped menacingly. "Either you keep quiet and behave, or you are going to be walking the rest of the way to this appointment! And I won't care what you say to Ed about that!"

She flinched and said nothing. Minor victory to me, he thought triumphantly.

He got a glass and poured in some whisky. A large measure. He didn't care.

"I don't suppose you would care to join me?" he asked cuttingly, looking askance at her archly.

She shrugged. "How long will it take to get to the school?"

"About 15 minutes." He took a big sip and felt the liquid slide soothingly and warmly down his throat. "That's better," he thought. 15 minutes would feel like 15 years in her company, maybe 30 if he were completely sober.

"In that case, then - I think I might. Do you have any vodka?"

He looked at her and gave her a withering glance. "There's nothing I don't have here, Miss Newlove. Here, choose your poison." He gestured at the cabinet. He had three different brands of vodka, all premium.

"Well!" she exclaimed, sounding impressed. "You certainly don't do anything by half measures - Mr Mayor." He just sniffed disdainfully and took another deep drink.

She glugged a large amount of spirit into her glass.

She raised her glass to him. "Here's to..."

"If you say 'us', I promise you, you will regret it!" he snarled.

"No, no, I was just going to say, "Here's to a successful visit, Mr Mayor."

He just scoffed at her and raised his eyebrow. He didn't raise his glass but just took another gulp. This visit would have been much more assured of success if he'd had Ed with him. Poor, blind Ed….

After a few gulps of whisky - an aged single malt, of course - he was feeling a little more mellow. Although he didn't want to drink too much and lose control, the alcohol was helping considerably with the pain - physical and mental. His nerves were on a knife edge and the pain in his leg didn't help improve them at all.

To his dismay, Isabella noticed the pinched look on his face and the way he was twitching and squirming in his seat, and remarked upon it accordingly.

"Oh, Os - I mean, Mr Mayor - are you feeling alright?" she asked with wide, anxious eyes.

"Me? Yes, of course I am, never better," he retorted dismissively.

"Oh - well, I would swear that you were in some kind of pain. Is it your leg?"

"I told you, I am perfectly fine…." he began petulantly, but she interrupted him.

"I don't think you are, y'know. You are just being brave. I can see it in your eyes. Oh, y'know, Os - I mean, Mr Mayor - I so admire your forti…"

"Will you cut that out? I told you not to talk that way to me…."

"Yes, yes, I know - I'm sorry. But I hate to see you in so much discomfort. You poor thing!" she simpered.

"Oh, really? If you hate seeing me in 'so much discomfort', as you put it, that much then why are you adding to it by continuing to torment me - AND Ed - with your unwelcome presence?" He took a breath from delivering his tirade and glared at her.

"Tsk tsk Mr Mayor - I think perhaps the gentleman doth protest too much!" she demurred playfully, undeterred by his aggression. "I think deep down you really do want me to rub that leg!"

"Don't you dare!" He wriggled back until he was as far away from her as he could manage. Even the spacious seat in the back of his limo wasn't wide enough to make him feel safe from her advances. "Don't you come near me!" he added with tight-lipped menace, gripping his whisky tumbler so tightly that he almost crushed it into fragments. He kept his other hand on his cane, still being prepared to strike to protect his virtue if necessary.

She pulled a face and then took another deep drink. "Be like that, then. If you'd rather be in pain for the rest of the day….I did do a course in massage, y'know - aromatherapy, to be exact."

"I don't care if you trained under the Dalai Lama - you're not laying a finger on me!"

Isabella giggled. "Oh, my, that is so witty! You are so humorous, Mr Mayor."

"I wasn't joking!"

"Awwww - I think it's the pain that's making you grumpy." She pouted sympathetically, then took another deep drink of her vodka. "Mmmm, this vodka is really smooth!" she purred. "A lot like you, Ozzy…."

"I keep telling you, woman, don't talk that way to me - and DON'T call me Ozzy!" he spat, then remembered the driver. He lowered his voice to a menacing whisper. "I mean it, y'know. You are pushing me too hard. Don't say I didn't warn you." He squeezed the handle of his cane and readied himself for battle.

Luckily for her, the driver slowed down as they approached the school. The big old building loomed up ahead of them. The Head Teacher was waiting outside to greet them, along with a small welcoming party - a mixture of children and staff.

"So, is this it?" said Isabella.

"Yes it is - oh joy!" grumbled Oswald. He had mixed feelings about this. He was glad of the chance to escape Isabella's attentions, but he never enjoyed these kinds of appointments.

"You don't like children?" she enquired, sounding a tad crestfallen.

"Well, I'm pretty ambivalent about them, really - but I must do my duty, see through my responsibilities…" Oswald sighed and looked martyred. He finished off his drink swiftly, preparing for his second big ordeal of the day.

"A very noble sacrifice, Mr Mayor!" Isabella smiled placatingly.

"Well, it's not such a bad experience if I have my chief-of-staff by my side - a comfort which you have now denied me. Thank you for that!" he said sarcastically, rolling his eyes. She shrugged noncommittally.

He produced the tin of breath mints he kept in his pocket for such an occasion, popping one into his mouth, before the driver opened the door for him. He knew vodka couldn't be detected easily on the breath, so he didn't offer one to Isabella. And he also wanted to be mean to her, of course.

He got out as quickly as his leg would allow, breathing the open air with relief.

He took a deep breath, put on his fake smile and put his best foot forward, the other three following behind him like a ball and chain.