* I started this about 18 months ago just to see if I could but couldn't decide on an ending so I've split it into smaller bits. I have further installments and if it doesn't freak the shit out of you I'll work on the conclusion. I probably will anyway just to see how freaky I can make it.
As always, enjoy*
*
I guess it was supposed to be ornamental but I thought it was ugly. A very badly thrown piece of earthenware, I wasn't one hundred percent sure if it was a jug, a bowl or a vase. It managed to suggest all three but actually conform to none. At barely four inches high it was unlikely to have a practical application. It was decorated, if that's the right word, the dull mat terracotta background had a shiny black almost glasslike relief which for all the world looked like interwoven spiders as well as what may have been alchemy or astrology symbols. The design was slightly proud and smooth, and didn't fit with the rough, rustic quality of the pot itself.
It did have a pleasing tactile quality, the contrast of abrasive and smooth made it almost strokable, certainly the urge to gently run your fingers over its surface was strong and the sensations pleasant enough. But it was still bloody ugly and I was quite taken aback when my wife asked how much it was. I braced myself for the worst. The stall holder was about 50, around our age, and gave a satisfied nod before pouring syrupy compliments on my wife's obviously very discerning tastes and going on to explain the unique nature of the piece and it's cultural significance to his people. This was not going to be cheap. It was almost time to return to our cruise ship and draw today's excursion to a close. Knowing this would be her last purchase and despite my misgivings I handed over the local equivalent of around £180 and tried to look magnanimous about it.
A winter cruise of the southern Mediterranean and North Africa had been the break we both needed. Everything laid on, no decisions more taxing than would I like ice in my drink, and the January sun had had that intensity taken out of it while still being temperately warm. It was strong enough to bleach Jane's long straight light brown hair a shade or two lighter in streaks, to her delight, and I must admit I rather liked the effect myself. We were both tanned from the 10 days we had been at sea. There had been numerous hours between ports of call when there was little better to do than lounge by one of the pools reading a good book. It was blissfully relaxing and exactly what we needed.
And so, four days later, our first (but certainly not our last!) cruise pulled back into Southampton and we made our way home. As the cab pulled up outside our large detached home, something we have both worked incredibly hard for, Natasha, our house sitting, cat feeding, 22 year old daughter came to the door and welcomed us both in with warm hugs and kisses. It helped to take the edge of the grey, cold but dry, January weather. Natasha has the fair skin slight build and sweet nurturing temperament of her mother, but with my dark hair and eyes. Soon we are tucking into bowls of Tasha's homemade pea and ham hock soup and warming up nicely. We had both, rather foolishly, dressed for North Africa and not Hampshire in January.
The three of us and the friendlier of the three cats we have, Snowy (the all black female) sat around the fire which, like the soup, Tasha had prepared especially. The women slurped on hot chocolate while I nursed my first proper cup of tea in a fortnight and Jane regaled Tasha with her retailing adventures. I was a little tired and not really paying attention so was slightly startled to hear my name being called.
"Tom. Tom! Tom, where did you leave the carrier bags? I haven't seen them since we left the cabin. You'd better not have lost them."
"They're in our cases, there was room and it's out of the way of prying eyes so not likely they'll get snatched..."
Jane made an exasperated noise and stomped off muttering something about things getting broken. When she came back in she was carrying six plastic carrier bags by the handles and letting me know I'd escaped by the skin of my teeth since miraculously everything appeared to be intact, before catching the contents of one of the bags against the corner of the coffee table to a loud smash. Jane froze where she stood as her tanned face turned ashen grey. I could see her eyes begging me not to be upset, not to say anything. I kept my face as straight as I could, there was nothing in this lot that I couldn't happily live without, and flicked my attention over to Tasha who was likewise watching her mother and me trying to gauge an appropriate response. Her sense of humour came as part of a hair and eyes package and as soon as we caught the other's eye we both burst out laughing. Natasha actually tumbled to the floor, helpless with mirth.
Jane flushed bright red, "Oh don't! Don't take the piss, it's not funny." Before a slow reluctant smile spread across her face . "God I hate you two sometimes", and she started to chuckle.
Placing all the bags carefully on the coffee table, we silently dared each other to see what had been broken. I seriously wasn't bothered, I was just having fun at Jane's expense, Jane was terrified it was going to be something she'd particularly treasured, whereas Tasha was burning with curiosity and made a grab for the bag and peered inside. "Is that supposed to be a camel?"
Jane's face was awash with relief, she had picked up a small glass figurine of a camel on one of our first stops of the holiday because firstly it was 'cute' and secondly she couldn't find anything she really wanted but thought it was rude not to buy anything at all.
Jane gave Tasha a guided tour of the rest of the remaining five bags, complete with anecdotes about the places and full descriptions of the hunkier shopkeepers and I sat back and dozed. My eyes grew heavy and I was moments from sleep when my name was used again.