In normal* circumstances, we would just pack up and go, leaving an angry whiff of sulphur behind, but this is the café visit that keeps on giving. We halt outside, as Mum is fuming and muttering to herself, Harry is complaining about his interrupted meal, and we click various bits of the baby’s buggy together. Suddenly we are hit by an overpowering smell of body spray and Uggs nudges me in the ribs. When I look, who should I see wandering ever so casually into the Barnacle but Mike Hussy.
It takes me a moment to compute what’s going on. Hussy is dressed in civvies and seems to be looking around for something … or someone … There isn’t anyone he wants to join, so he leaves again and spots us still trying to get the enormous amount of equipment that comes with a baby in order and ready to go home.
‘Hey, Ginge,’ he says to me. I cringe. Although I also note that ‘ginge’ and ‘cringe’ rhyme and I might use it for one of our poetry slams some day.
‘Mike,’ I acknowledge.
‘Is that the latest?’ he says of Harry.
‘Yes.’
Mum clocks Hussy and asks him his name and, wonder of all wonders, he blushes and goes all stammery.
‘Nice b-b-b-baby,’ he tells her.
‘Thank you,’ Mum says, and he goes even more crimson.
It’s surreal to see him like this, like reality has been bent out of shape but is still recognizable.
I really wish he’d just bog off, though. The smell of whatever he sprayed himself with is rank: it would have been better for the world if he had just washed himself and avoided covering one pong with another.
Uggs is in with, ‘Were you looking for someone in particular in there?’ His face is a vision of boldness and a beamy smile is about to break out across his face.
Dixie gives him a murderous glare.
‘Nah,’ goes Hussy. ‘Just passing, so I thought I’d take a look in.’
None of us Gang can meet the others’ eyes. This must be Dixie’s Lonely Heart. HAS to be! I feel like I might burst from trying not to laugh.
Mum goes, ‘Got it,’ as the last of the bits of the buggy click into place and we make for home, with Dixie leading a quick march.
‘Mike Hussy must be …’
‘NO!’ She even holds up her hand to halt that line of talk. ‘Nonononono. NOnononono. Do not go there. Besides, it couldn’t be him. For one thing, he was way late for a five o’clock rendezvous, so it is so not him. Couldn’t be. NO.’
‘Could so be,’ Uggs says.
‘Au contraire, Eugene,’ she tells him.
‘Oh, contrary, more like,’ Uggs mutters and I get a fit of the giggles.
Who would have thought that Mike Hussy, of all people, was on the search for love? Wonders truly will never cease, though I think Dixie will cease placing adverts in the local schools’ rag now. So, while one thing is a relief, the other is worrying, i.e. Hussy on the hunt for a ‘significant other’, a fact that means he actually does have a heart after all.
By the time we part company at our gate my ribs ache from holding in the laughter. Dixie is livid with how her brilliant plan has gone so totally awry and Uggs risks death with the cheeky grin plastered across his mush.
‘Laters,’ she tells us as she disappears down the street and it sounds distinctly like a threat.
Gran wants to hear all of the Barnacle adventure.
‘I’ll tell you something for nothing,’ Mum begins, and that never bodes well. If Mum wants to tell you ‘something for nothing’, someone is in big doodah. It also means she is planning retribution.
‘Watch this space,’ she warns when she’s done telling Gran of the villainy and injustice we have encountered.
‘Good outcome,’ Gran whispers to me. ‘She’s furious. That should take the shine off the depression for a while.’
I look over at Mum. Harry is attached to her boobage and she is tapping two fingers on the table as she formulates her next move. Gran’s right: there is fire in Mum’s eyes again!
