Holding Mr Pickles in his arms, Michael looked at the young woman standing in front of him. She had the most beautiful smile. He stood there transfixed. He looked into her eyes and could see nothing but cliches and he wanted to dive into them all.
Thankfully, at that moment Mr Pickles began to wriggle and Michael was brought back to reality with a bump. "Umm! Sorry. Umm...I guess he must have got out when I went back for my umbrella.” He sputtered. “He’s a bit of a Houdini.” Inside Michael cringed. Did I just say that out loud?
She's speaking. Sh*t! Dang! What? She just totally told me her name. Sh*t! What did she say? Penny? Polly?
“I live at No. 5. Welcome to the neighbourhood.”
Dang! She's my neighbour. Shheeee's my neighbour! Mr Pickles squirmed and did his best to jump out of Michael's arms.
"Oh, thank you. That's very nice of you, um, ah" Michael grappled for the name, thought momentarily of saying "Penny," but then Bingo!a new coloured ball, Number 22, dropped as the winning number. "ah, coffee? I mean, would you like a cup of coffee? Now? Or, um..."
"Yes, please." Peggy said.
"Right. Um. Great. Are you sure?" Michael, very very British - rather similar to that actor, you know the one, who lived close by to where the carnival takes place, who owned a travel bookshop - was now stuck.
"I mean, don't let me inconvenience you. It doesn't have to be now." And as the words left Michael's lips, Mr Pickles finally plunged out of his arms and dashed inside the open yellow door. "Sh*t!"
Michael looked at Penny, Polly, Pandy and then at the open door where the cat had just dashed and, awkwardly, proffered said door with a little flourish. This time a bit more like Basil Fawlty (character), than Hugh Grant (actor). But as this was real life, character acting didn't matter.
Peggy beamed at him and skipped after Mr Pickles.
Now Michael faced the worst possible predicament. He had to make coffee, sit and chat with this beautiful woman - and he didn't know her blasted name!
"Hey, Michael! You've got a really neat house." Peggy called from the hallway.
Could it get any worse? Michael groaned inwardly, she knows my name. "Yeah! Thanks! It's taken the last couple of weeks just to unpack." He said stepping inside his home. "I did have some help though."
Right on cue, Mr Pickles. sauntered over to him and chirruped. Without thinking, Michael picked him up. As he did so, Peggy jerked closer like she'd been hooked and was being pulled from the sea.
"I'm sorry, you're going to think me terribly rude b-b-but I didn't catch..."
"It's Peggy... Peggy Upton." And with that, Peggy laughed, rather like a different woman who was a certain romance author's number one fan. "Yes, I live at No. 5."
Michael suddenly became wary thinking to himself,
I am in trouble here. This woman is not right.
Mrs Upton chuckled to herself. "Did you see what I did there, Mr Pickles? I included you in one of my stories. The one about the psycho cat snatcher.
References made to Nottinghill, the film, Faulty Towers, the hilarious British Sitcom, and Misery, a novel by Steven King.
Cover Image created in Canva by moi using micheile dot com on Unsplash.
Heartline divider created in Canva by the author.
DreemPort assets used with permission.
