No Drama

 

“Victor, I'm used to the fact that you smile every time a pretty girl (or indeed any girl) hoves into view. You don't have to lick your lips. It's distasteful.”

“Soz, Babs.”

“And you can stop saying 'soz' as if you wanted to get down with the kids.”

“Sor, Babs.”

Babs inhaled aggressively.

Victor kicked an innocent tin can with unnecessary force.

There was a pause.

They continued in silence until they reached the welcoming doors of The Mitre. Babs pushed the door to keep it closed and whispered harshly to Victor.

“And don't you dare smile at the waitress or I'll show you what a steak knife is for.”

Victor nodded.

The usual waitress, whose name was Nadia, breezed up and handed over the menus. She spoke in a Croatian accent but her English was perfect.

“Here you are, Victor and Babs, our special today is macaroni cheese and we have a special offer I think you will like, Victor. The Casillero del Diablo is two bottles for the price of one.”

“That applies to the Cab Sav as well as the Merlot,” she added.

She looked more closely at Victor's face.

“What's up, Vic? You look as if you've lost a pound and found a sixpence.”

“What's a sixpence?” Victor asked.

Nadia laughed.

“Come on, grandad, you're old enough to know what a sixpence is.”

Victor smiled despite instructions. Babs glowered.

They ordered the macaroni on Nadia's recommendation. It was excellent.

Victor insisted on buying two bottles of Casillero del Diablo Cabernet Sauvignon.

They ate in silence. Victor made sure not to smile when Nadia served the meal.

Over the macaroni, Babs suddenly said, “I haven't marked this before but you have the cold dead eyes of a killer.”

Victor smiled broadly.

“It's 'remarked' not 'marked' and it is a murderer not a killer.”

Babs fumbled with her capacious handbag.

“And you're not thinking of consulting a script at this stage, now are you?”

“I have not remarked this before but you have the cold dead eyes of a murderer. Listen, Vic darling, 'remarked' is just wrong. It's mistranslated from the French. In English it is 'marked' or possibly just 'noticed'.”

“And why is she telling me that I have the cold dead eyes of a murderer, do you think?” Victor said.

“She is not telling you. She is telling the audience, surely?”

Vic leaned back and reflected for a moment before saying the one word, “Proceed.”

Babs hesitated. Victor raised an eyebrow.

“Shark,” he said eventually.

“You remind me of a shark I saw at the aquarium.”

Victor showed his teeth.

“Exactly like that,” said Babs.

“But you can't be scared of me, surely?” said Victor.

Babs laughed. “No of course not, Vic but you do have a sharky look about you. And, come to think of it, why is there a steak knife on the table when we are eating Macaroni?”

They both went for the knife but Nadia was quicker.

“Soz,” she said, “my bad.”

“No, it's no good,” Babs concluded, “there is no tension. You need a build up of fear. You wouldn't stab someone in a restaurant, too many witnesses.”

“Oh, you're right, Babs,” Nadia interjected. “By the way, how was your wine?”

Babs looked at the wine bottle. She had double vision and everything was getting blurry.

“We'd best take you out the back,” said Nadia.

“Don't die in a pub, it looks bad,” said Victor.

He smiled. Babs was beyond seeing the smile but it was for Nadia.

The End

by Derek McMillan

Derek McMillan is a writer in Durrington. His wife, Angela, is his editor. His 2020 work is a collection of short stories and flash fiction called "Brevity".

Brevity - a collection of audio stories