Caught

Marjorie didn’t like golf it bored her senseless even the social evenings she found painful to endure. So many la-de-da poseurs always dropping oblique hints about how successful in business they were. They thought they were being so subtle; the idiots. And that woman, lady captain Sandra what’s-her-wretched-name the old bag always making eyes at her Cecil. Did she think she was blind? Marjorie wondered if all Golf clubs were the same snobbish dens of iniquity.

Now a sudden opportunity to play a Spanish course over a long weekend at a bargain price as some member had dropped out at the last minute. ‘too good an opportunity to miss dear’ Cecil had told her Well sod him let him go she’d use the time to visit her mother. Cecil and Marjorie’s mum never did hit it off. ‘He’s a wrong ‘un that one Sandra mark my words. A philanderer if I ever saw one.’ she had said on the eve of their wedding.

‘Do get a move on or you’ll miss your flight’ Marjorie snapped. Cecil was always fussing over some last minute detail or other. ‘Now what is it?’ she asked exasperated as Cecil hummed and hawed in the hallway.

‘My new blue slippers dear, you sure you packed them?’

‘Yes dear they're packed and the taxi's been waiting ten minutes for god’s sake do get a move on.’


*****


‘Hello darling good weekend?

‘Yes darling excellent, I played up to my handicap you know.’

‘Did that Sandra woman go?’

‘Oh her? Yes, yes I did see her occasionally he said irritably then went on the attack ‘By the way you didn’t pack my damned slippers.’

‘Yes I did you bastard I put them in your golf bag on top of your clubs.’