Don’t Look Now

Don’t Look Now

Mary Berry, pulled in tight, knees together, face alight to the tablet in her hand. Gears grind, commuting daily, she fears the woman to her right demurely dressed, may catch sight of the word Can Upset Nursing Team.

Robin Buffchest, alpha male, sets his points to grease the rail, enter through the female arts of parts, unconnected to the heart; which pulse, quail, and never fail to excite, when coaxed under the assail of manicured fingers.

Mary Berry, alights the train, collects coffee, joins the trail of business minded folk. Finds her chair, hangs her coat, assigns post its to the bin. Jane relates another tale, this time the drains overflowed and blocked.

Numbers come, and numbers go, feet walk miles, round, beneath the seat shoes on, shoes off, page after page. Daydreams snap from looks exchanged familiar faces, backs of heads. Meet mid morning through the glass, cheek held up by helpful fist.

Sushi time, crisps; orange juice without the bits, Jane’s behind, a book or more, Robin’s tricks she wants to know, when uninvited down sits Damian from claims. Buttons checked. He insists to know, the way to go, on Donovan and Hicks and have they heard the cooler talk, about Peter Briggs? Six months they say.

The afternoon slips away, toilet break telephone calls, wriggled toes, time to make solid supper plans. Visualize what’s in the fridge; bagged salad, pork chops, half a cabbage, celery sticks. Decisions still to make, in the wake of the numbers on the screen. At last it’s time to take her coat and leave.

Mary Berry, rejects the call, to join them all, in the pub for Paul’s birthday. Spoiled for choice, she window shops, as she walks, lost in thought, to catch the train. The seat she sought by the window is free. Tucked in small knees together, tablet out, she allows herself to fall once more into the little game.