After Forever Ends - Ramone Melodie - Страница 36
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“You didn’t bring socks?” His eyebrows rose.
I looked away quickly, “I thought I did. But I can’t find them.”
He laughed and tossed his head back, then quickly looked straight into my eyes, “They got you already! I told you! Nicked them right out of your sack, did they? Ha!” He clapped his hands, “Fine then! Brilliant! But you don’t need to buy new ones, the old ones will show up!” Oliver whooped and lifted me off of my feet, “I told you! Didn’t I?” He noticed people staring at us and grinned at them all, “Don’t mind us! She doesn’t listen to a thing I tell her and I’ve just been proven right! It’s better than Christmas!”
An old lady smiled and a young man looked away.
“You haven’t proven a thing!” I giggled loudly as he tickled my neck with kisses, “I forgot to pack them is all!”
“Ah, no you didn’t!”
“Then you took them!”
He looked a little hurt, “Come on now, Love! You don’t think that, do you? Can’t you just give it a chance?”
“Faerie Folk and magic?”
“Yes, both of those! Yes! And me, too! Trust me that I’m not lying!”
“Oh, Oliver,” I suddenly felt ghastly, “I do trust you!”
“Good. We’ve got to trust each other. It’s the only way we can be a real team.”
We finished our shopping and went to the timber yard where Oliver had a door cut out to fit the one he had chopped down. “It’ll be a lot warmer tonight,” He told me as he strapped the door to the top of the car.
“I wasn’t cold.”
He grinned, “We can always leave it open if you like.”
“Oliver?”
“Yes, Love?” He wasn't looking at me.
“Have you noticed that people are watching us?”
“Of course they are,” He tugged a knot on the rope and gave the door a shake to make sure it was tight. “It’s you they’re looking at, Sweetheart,” Oliver said softly, rubbing my arm through my jumper, “Cause you’re beautiful,” Then he grinned, “And ‘cause you keep clamouring on and no one can understand a word with Scottish brogue of yours.”
“Really?”
“Really. Everyone thinks you’re mental. Can’t figure out a word you’re saying, can they? But they smile at you because you’re cute-like.”
“Oh, shut it,” I mumbled, feeling my face go red.
“I love you even if you can’t talk, Sil. Mind, I understand you by now. You say, ‘yugh’ instead of you and I know you’re talking to me. And you say, ‘Oooop’ when you need to get on a lift for the third floor and ‘Doon’ when you want to get back to the lobby. You call me ‘Ahlahvehr’, he imitated my accent precisely, “And you roll your R’s like a drunken German. The rest of it, I dunno. It’s all rubbish.”
It was funny, even if I was feeling a bit insulted. “And Welsh accents are so much better?” I asked. I mimicked him, “’I loves what I dos, Buttie!’ you say! Or it’s something that makes even less sense like, ‘Whose coat’s that jacket, Butt?’ or ‘Have a swill in the bosh, Biwt!’ What the bloody hell is a swill? Or a bosh? Or a biwt? Eh, Buttie?” I demanded and then started laughing when he burst out, “Heel-lo!” I continued, “I-yam from Wales-like and I likes tah play da roog-beh! Mind, I like-at keck da balls throo da bag ay-cha…“
“The big H?” Oliver giggled like a child, “Do you even know what it’s called?”
“Do I even care? No! Besides, I’ve heard all about you Welshmen!”
“From who?” He asked with great humour, “Englishmen? Let me tell you about Englishmen,” He leaned close to my face, “They say that same thing about everybody, especially the Scots.” He raised his eyebrows and then lowered them again, “Here’s the line: ‘You know about Scotland, don’t you?’ The other bloke says, ‘No, what about Scotland?’ And the first bloke says, ‘Scotland is the land where men are men and sheep are frightened.’”
“No! No! They say it about Wales!!” I giggled as he grabbed me around the waist and playfully wrestled me from stomping away. “When I said I was moving here, that’s what someone told me! Welshmen love their sheep like their wives!”
“Oh, aye, they say it about us, too! Sure they do! But, mind, tell me then why the English put lipstick and high heels on their sheep?” He caught me and spun me around. His face was very close to mine again. I think he would have kissed me if someone driving by hadn’t honked their horn and made us both jump. Oliver flushed, “Wanker!” He yelled at the driver and then turned back to me, “Let’s go to the pub and get breakfast, yes? Fat sausages and eggs? Bacon and toast?”
My stomach growled. Food and I have never been enemies.
By the time we got back to the cabin, heated the water for and taken a decent bath and Oliver hung the door, Alexander and Meredith came walking up the path.
Oliver ran out into the lawn and leaped at his brother. Alex caught him with little effort and pounded him on the back, “Thanks for coming all the way here, Alex,” Ollie released him. “It didn’t seem right without you.”
“Wouldn’t miss it, Ol,” He slapped Oliver on the back once again, “Hello, Lovely Silvia! How is the blushing bride?”
“Alexander!” He lifted me up and spun me around. I tried to kiss his cheek, but he turned his head and I got the corner of his mouth instead, “I’m so glad you’re here!”
“Me, too,” He looked around, his eyes catching the light and sparkling. “Don’t you love it here?”
I started to say that I did when Meredith replied, “This would be just like camping. I never want to go camping.”
“I will remember that,” Alex replied through clenched teeth, giving his brother a look that said he’d had it with his current mistress.
She turned to me, obviously concerned, “So you two actually want to get married? Today? No one gets married on a Sunday. It’s the Sabbath.”
“Historically,” I could not help myself, “Saturday is the Sabbath.”
She frowned, but said nothing.
“Let's go!” Oliver wrapped his arm around my shoulder and the four of us headed down the hill to the car. Meredith said nothing as we pressed through the brush, but as we backed down the path, she spoke again, “Don’t you have a dress, Silvia?”
“I am wearing a dress, Meredith.”
“Yes, but it’s a yellow spring dress, not a wedding dress.”
“We haven’t exactly booked an abbey,” Oliver told her shortly, pulling on to the road and putting the car in gear. “Oy, did you bring the papers, Alexander?”
“In my pocket.” He patted his jacket, “You're all set.”
“Excellent! Thank you, Brother!”
“Anything for you and your Silvia.”
It was about ten seconds before Meredith mentioned, “You’re wearing trainers, Sil.”
“So?” Oliver asked a bit hotly.
“You look like you’re headed to a picnic in the park, not to your wedding,” She leaned back, “I wouldn’t get married dressed like that.”
“Well, it’s not your wedding, is it?” Alexander snapped, turning on her in the backseat, “Silvia looks beautiful! Silvia always looks beautiful! You’re a guest and by proxy, a guest should shut her cake hole and be polite and helpful to her hosts!”
“How dare you talk to me like that!”
“Oliver!” He smacked the back of the seat with the flat of his hand, “Stop the car! Now! I want to throw her out on the road!”
“What? We’re in the middle of nowhere!” She shrieked.
“Perfect! Then no one will hear you scream!”
Meredith began to cry.
“Oh, stick a cork in it!” Alexander hit the back of the seat again, “I’ve been listening to you for days! I'd love nothing more than to reach in and yank out your vocals cords!”
“Alex!” I scolded him because it seemed like the proper thing to do.
Alex glanced at me and then leaned forward and slapped his brother on the shoulder, “Oliver, take me back to the cabin then! I’ll drown her in the lake!”
“Alex!” I admonished him again.
“Don't stop the car!” Meredith wept.
“I’m not stopping anything!” Oliver looked in the mirror at the two of them, “And there’ll be no one being drowned in the lake either! Meredith, please don’t cry! No one’s throwing you out!”
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