Benny & Shrimp by Katarina Mazetti Read Free Book Online Page B

couldn’t find any clean socks and the pump stopped working, so there was no hot water, and when I came tearing along to the cemetery gates ten minutes late, I knew I stank of the cowshed. Sometimes, like when you go to the village shop, you forget you’re wearing your overalls until you notice people moving out of range of the smell. They probably think it’s a flatulence problem; not many people recognise ordinary cowshed smells these days.
    She was wearing the mauve tights. They clashed with her coat.
    “I smell of the cowshed, because I’m a farmer,” I reeled off before I’d even said hello. “Twenty-four milk cows, plus followers.” I hadn’t even managed to tell her that, the time before.
    “… and a few sheep,” I added. Sheepishly. And squinted at her as I tried to keep my distance and stay down-wind .
    She stared at me. Then her summer holiday smile spread slowly across her whole face. “What does followers mean?” she asked.
    We decided a trip to the swimming baths was in order, and on the way I told her followers means young stock. I hired an awful pair of dark blue swimming trunks and bought a little sachet of shampoo and gave myself a good scrub, then we met at the edge of the pool. She’d wound her straight, white blonde hair into a wet little sausage of a bun; I hardly recognised her.
    Her swimsuit was beige, of course, and she was thin, you might almost say bony. If it hadn’t been for her little plums of breasts you could easily have put her in the “male, 14-16” category. And yet – her slenderness was more greyhound than famine victim – her movements were sort of efficient and energy-saving; I watched spellbound as her pale hand painted pictures in the air as she spoke.
    I thought how I’d always liked bright colours – and plenty of flesh and even rolls of fat for that matter, something to get a nice firm grip on. Decided I’d only ever use the very tips of my fingers if I ever got anywhere near her plums.
    I once had a collie bitch I tried to mate with a dog of the same breed, a real pedigree animal. The bitch was climbing up the walls, frantic to get out – she totally refused to get it together with that particular dog. A fewmonths later she stood there placidly letting herself be mounted by a Norwegian elkhound-Labrador cross.
    There’s no predicting how that sort of thing works.
    We swam a few lengths and had a race on the exercise bikes, then we went to the cafeteria and made our choice from their selection of dry, crumbly almond cakes. We talked the whole time – well, mostly she did, of course.
    In mid-sentence I felt her foot rubbing along my calf, and totally lost her drift. Children’s shouts and screams echoing from the pool came together with the thumping in my ears, and I had to put my towel across my lap. We played footsie for a while and I struggled to keep my eyes on her face. All I could see was her mouth moving, but I’ve no idea what she was saying.
    Suddenly she took hold of my damaged hand and started nibbling the fingerless knuckles. I sat stock-still.
    “Let’s go back to my place,” she said.
    So we did. To her white and beige flat.
    I shall remember it until the day I die.
    She unlocked the door, threw her swimming things down in one corner and her coat in another. Then she turned to face me, peeled off her pale blue T-shirt and put her head on one side.
    I peered furtively about me as I started pulling off my jeans. And then I went completely limp. It was like stripping off in the central library.
    “All these bloody bookshelves are making me nervous !” I muttered.
    “That’s a new one!” she grinned, putting my emptyknuckles to her lips again.
    Then we made love, twice, straight off. No finesse – but it would have been as hard to stop as a high-speed train on a clear stretch of track.
    The third time, I mumbled in her ear: “Now we’re two dogs that’ll be stuck fast in each other until someone throws a bucket of water over us!”
    So