Wednesday 1st August 2012
Thoughts following a close shave
HAIR frequently caught in the serrated grill, necessitating pauses while I shook or blew on the device in order to clear the blockage.
The more I shaved, the bolder I became, wrapping an arm across his brow and holding the skull against my midriff. Finally I advanced upon the small triangle of curls I’d deliberately left to the end.
He sighed deeply. I flicked away the last few tufts and kissed the top of his bald head.
“The surgeon has finished. You have been a good patient.”
“And you’ve been as tender a Dee-Lie-La as any son of Sam could wish for. Thank you. Leave that lot. I’ll hoover it up after I’ve had a wash… and rung the Samaritans.”
He stood up, leaned forward to kiss my cheek and headed for the bathroom. I picked up a handful of the curls that lay on the floor, putting them in my pocket.
“So, what do you say?” he asked, returning. “Shall we go out tomorrow, you in your wig and me looking like Humpty Dumpty? Go out and see the sights of London?”
“Yes.”
He was such fun, such good company, but I was perturbed by the tale he’d told of Sam’s son and Dee-Lie-La. She had been kind and loving, only to betray him.
Louise had prepared a large bed for us and spoken of me as Brendan’s girlfriend. Had he suggested this to her? Did he wish us to share intimacies in the bed, as lovers do? Was he being kind to me only because he hoped I would reveal secrets to him?
Perhaps Brendan was not a dear friend, but an associate of the giants. Had he not once spoken of himself as ‘the Guvver Munt’s ambassador for Rhetan affairs’?
Suddenly, I recalled his unexpected appearance in the cage where I was being held by Guvver Munt henchmen, the night of Tom’s fall and the meeting with Ray Bilton. Why would the giants be willing for him to accompany me everywhere… unless they expected him to inform them of my thoughts?
Oh Brendan.
Much as I wished to lie down on a bed with him, I dare not, lest I find myself lying next to a bare-faced, bald-headed liar.
