My Daughter, Audrey [ON HOLD]

The Ace

Peter looked at the round-faced clock on his wall and then at Audrey.  “We better start packin’, lovely.”

               “Can’t we go shopping first?”

               As if he had never heard such a word before, Peter widened his eyes and flashed a helpless look at Audrey .  “Sh—shoppin’?  Wot for?”

               “Clothes for the journey there!  Every time Mommy goes on a trip, she buys me new clothes.”

               Peter snorted, removing the excited smile from Audrey.  “Listen, love, I can’t buy ya new clothes.  Can’t ya jest wear wot ya got?”

               Audrey looked down at her evergreen frock and frowned.  “I wore this already.  Let’s go get a new one!”

               “No, no, no!”  Peter said, his voice rising into a harsher tone, which ended any following arguments from Audrey.

               “Fine,” Audrey whispered in acceptance. 

               “Bloody good,” Peter sighed as he went over to the closest to fetch his coat and slacks.

               Audrey’s face became alight with curiosity, and she turned to Peter.  “Why do you say bloody?  Nobody’s bleeding.”

               Peter’s arms dropped to their sides and stayed there for a moment while Peter collected his thoughts.  “It’s an expression, darling.  Ya shouldn’t say it, it’s swearin’.”

               “Swearing’s bad,” Audrey corrected vivaciously, propping her hands on her hips.  She raised an eyebrow at Peter when he looked at her.

               “Alright, I’ll stop sayin’ it.  But git along now, gather wot ya brought and we’ll ‘ead out before nine o’clock.” 

               Audrey stood where she had stopped and swayed back and forth, her dress moving side to side like a bell.  Her hands were clasped behind her and one foot was swiveling on its heel nervously.

               “Ya didn’t bring anythin’, did ya, Ace?”   Peter asked, straightening the collar on his shirt.

               Audrey shook her head.  “No.  Mommy didn’t leave me with anything.  She said you’d take care of it.”

               “Oh, that dirty rascal of a woman!  Don’t ya worry, lass, we don’t need to buy ya anythin’.  I can make something quite as lovely.”  Peter took hold of Audrey’s small, dimpled fingers and hurried out of his apartment.  He made sure to lock after himself, but he didn’t have much time if he wanted to make it to the noon train station.

               “You sew?”  Audrey inquired breathlessly as they pattered down the stairs.

               “Yes, I do!”

               “That’s a lady’s job!  You’re not a lady, you’re a man!”  Audrey hollered, loud enough for people downstairs to snicker and point.  Everyone who knew Peter meant no harm in their sniggering, they were only laughing at the child’s response.

               “Now, Ace, a man’s got to live, too.  And it may be a feminine tradition, but I’m considered a seamster, as oppose to a seamstress.”

               “Seamster isn’t a word, silly.”

               Peter stopped and turned around with threatening eyes.  Audrey only giggled behind her hand, making it impossible for Peter to be irritated with her.