Out Of The Mouths Of Babes

Eleven

Eleven

 As he arrived home, Ben could barely keep the smile from his face. Amy’s lack of confidence in him made his victory all the more satisfying. Although, if he was to be completely honest, he’d thought it a bit of a lost cause himself. Nonetheless, he practically skipped up to front door like a child hurrying home to tell his parents that he got ten out of ten on his spelling test.

“You’re back early,” Amy remarked. “Was Helen keeping the bed warm for him?”

“Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit.”

“Hmm, so how did it go, need I ask?”

“Well... I could only do my best…”

“Oh well,” Amy sighed, “I wasn’t really expecting him to finish with her.” She sat down and picked up a magazine that lay beside her. “Maybe I will talk to Helen,” she said, flicking aimlessly through the pages.

“What for?” asked Ben. She glanced up at him with a look that suggested he might be a bit thick, and then went back to perusing the kitchen utensils. “Now, it wasn’t easy,” he went on, “but with some smart talking and incredible powers of persuasion…” He paused for dramatic effect, “I convinced him that dumping Helen was the only realistic option.”

She looked up at him again. “What?”

“That’s where he is now,” he said, “round at Helen’s, finishing with her!”

Amy was gob smacked. “Seriously? You’re seriously telling me that you told him to dump her, and he’s doing it - right now - just like that?”

“Yep, that’s right.”

Amy jumped up, took hold of his face and kissed him hard on the lips. But when their lips parted company she looked worried.

“Oh, but poor Helen,” she said, frowning.

“What! What do you mean, ‘poor Helen’? Is this not precisely what you wanted?”

 “Yes, of course I wanted them to stop their affair, but I didn’t want Helen to get hurt.” She sighed again and said, “She has no luck with men, whatsoever.”

Ben threw his head back in bemusement. “Well,” he said, “she might have a bit more luck if she chose a man who wasn’t already married.”

“That’s a bit harsh! Marcus wasn’t married. Adrian wasn’t married.”

Ben ignored the tone of disdain at the mention of Adrian. “But Steve is. And if you mess around with a married man, it’s bound to end in tears.” He couldn’t believe that he’d actually defied the odds, done exactly what Amy had asked, thus saving her from an extremely uncomfortable evening, and yet she was still not happy. In fact, she even had the gall to moan about it!

“Hold on just a sec,” she demanded, “let’s just remember who’s at fault here. Helen’s not married, is she?” Ben opened his mouth to respond but was sharply intercepted. “Your brother is the one who’s cheating on his wife. His wife who works her fingers to the bone looking after their baby daughter, not to mention their house!”

“Oh, please!” Ben scoffed. “I don’t think it’s possible to work perfectly manicured fingers to the bone without so much as breaking a nail. In fact, I doubt she even breaks into a sweat. She doesn’t even do her own ironing.”

“Her own ironing?” He’d hit a nerve. Sexist and pig were the words on the tip of her tongue when Natasha descended upon them.

“If you two don’t keep it down a bit you’re going to wake the kids up,” she said, making herself comfortable and flipping open a tube of Pringles - she was hooked now she’d had a taste. “Come on then,” she added. “I wasn’t eavesdropping, but I couldn’t help but overhear a few snippets. Who’s sleeping with someone they shouldn’t be?”