Cornwall. 13th June 2014. 19.45pm – 15 minutes before kick off.
Hazel, 94, finishes tidying up the nachos and fajita mess from the day’s earlier game, pops on her Dutch clogs and sits on the sofa, excited to watch her Bowls Club sweepstake pick play reigning champions Spain.
Hazel hears the front door shut before Barbara, 96, enters the lounge with a 20-something, olive-skinned, dark-haired, muscly male. Hazel looks at her friend, confused.
BARBARA: Hazel, meet my young lover Miguel.
HAZEL: …
BARBARA: We met yesterday. I arrived outside our home after a dreadful game of bowls, my left hip in agony, and there, all skin and meat, I saw Miguel, his biceps glowing in sunshine; his smile lighting up our street; his eyes fixed on me. My knees trembled and my heart danced as I felt something I hadn’t felt for decades: Lust. With a capital L. I’m telling you, the afternoon was like a dream. A filthy, grubby dream. Miguel clutched me by the arm, dragged me in the house and had his wicked way with me. Rough, but gentle, his hands were everywhere, inside and out. Oh Hazel, he did things to me I never knew were possible.
HAZEL: wh…huh?
MIGUEL: (Pause) My name’s Michael, I’m Barbara’s new nurse-
BARBARA: SILENCE, MIGUEL! SILENCE!
MIGUEL: And I’m here to change her catheter, aren’t I Barbara?
BARBARA: Fine
MIGUEL: OK
BARBARA: (Pause) But look me deep in the eye whilst you’re doing it.
© Carl Burkitt 2014
Carl tells tales 