In an elegant restaurant car Booby sat staring dreamily out of the window, the French countryside racing by field after field, cow after cow, the dark green velvet curtains dutifully framing the ever changing landscape, alternately bathed in the shadows of rolling hills and the amber glow of a late summer sunset. She pressed her rich ruby lips up to the glass of chilled Chablis she held in her right hand and took a few gentle sips. A cool feeling moved down into her tummy and settled the warm orb of roasted lamb, pumpkin and seasoned potatoes. Contentment washed over Miss Tuesday and she became sleepy with the motion of the train carriage, the fine meal and heady wine. The white wasn’t a recommended companion to the lamb but slipped down keenly all the same. In her haze Booby began to drift and her eyelids became heavy. Little runaway thoughts bubbled up from the realm of dreams and soon she was lost and away with it all.
Suddenly she awoke from her daydream with a jolt. At the adjacent table somebody had knocked over a pepper shaker. Five sneezes in a row and Booby was fully awake but somehow something seemed amiss. A lingering flavour and chafed sensation about the mouth seemed to have come out of nowhere. She touched the area with her fingertips and sure enough a slight rash had developed. There was a taste of red wine, perhaps a Cabernet. While she dozed she had most certainly been kissed. Some cocky callous cad had stolen a kiss in secret and fled our dreamy heroine without a word. What manner of beast committed this crime? A crime of passion to be sure but from a courage-less wretch! She looked around the carriage and saw only casual innocent faces, chewing on champignons, raising glasses and absorbed in newspapers, not a guilty face among them. To her right an elderly spinster sat prodding at individual peas with a fork, intermittently attempting to carve pieces of lamb with a knife that looked like a broadsword in her frail hands.
Miss Tuesday felt violated and mystified. It didn’t seem worth grilling anybody, impossible to interrogate the whole train Poirot style. She decided to keep an eye out for a guilty face. Just then the door slid open and in walked Kevin the ticket inspector. His eyes met hers for a moment and his cheeks flushed deep red. But he had been so gentlemanly earlier after walking in on her in such a wild state. He slinked by and quickly disappeared into the next carriage. Booby rose feeling empowered now, full of energy and crimson cheeked. She felt over dressed and determined. A radiant instinct rushed through her body, her blood was up and she would pursue Kevin and find a way to unlock the mystery. She did not believe in karma or heavenly justice, the fact was there was mystery, a whole wide world bursting with it and she would investigate it now with innocence and lust and without imposing a pre-determined framework onto it. Booby Tuesday would let the earth and universe breathe, while teasing it ceaselessly.
Pear Partridge
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