By H.St Vincent Beechey
I spent the whole of the next day in my room, having my meals sent up, and instructed the switchboard not to accept any local phone calls at all, including those from inside the hotel itself. I needed to think. I hung a ‘Do not Disturb’ sign on the door knob, put earplugs in my ears and settled down to a long session familiarising myself with my new computer.
I thoroughly explored my new system and customised everything in sight. I played endless games of solitaire, and Free Cell, Hearts and Minesweeper, I even wrote a neat little macro or two, but eventually I was compelled to examine what was happening. I was not happy, and it concerned Bonnie.
I took an hour or so devising a questionnaire, but I ran out of sensible questions. Nothing for it but to try to answer them.
Q: Why are you angry with Bonnie?
A: Because she embarrassed me.
A: She subjected me to a social situation.
A: I had to join a group with whom I had nothing in common.
A: I had to shake hands with them.
A: They expected me to make Small Talk.
Q: Did you?
Q: Then why are you mad?
At that point I gave up. I was beginning to question the honesty of my answers. Could it be, I asked myself, that I was jealous of the attentions of the local wolf pack towards Bonnie? Ridiculous! But I do have a responsibility. Nonsense; Bonnie is a grown woman, and well capable of taking care of herself. And besides, aren’t you always telling her to find some other millionaire? Didn’t you tell her, only last week, to get lost? But who would look after me like Bonnie does? How on earth would I get home?
Like it or not, I was used to Bonnie. And, besides, who but I could show her how to use her laptop? I found myself daydreaming about our dancing. I remembered the kiss, and how-Yes, I’m sure she did-she returned it.
At this point there was a pounding on my locked door.
‘Charlie Quinn! I know you are in there! Let me in at once!’
Bonnie? A very determined Bonnie it sounded. Come to do battle from the sound of it. Well, we’ll see about that! My suite is my castle.
I unlocked the door.
Bonnie rushed in. She seemed excited, or angry, or both. I couldn’t help noticing that her new hair-do was a bit rumpled and her cheeks rather flushed.
‘Charlie Quinn,” she said, ‘It is time we had a few words.
‘It is indeed.’ I said, secure in my castle.
‘What do you mean by locking me out of your life. I’ve got a job to do,’
“Why don’t you do it then.” I responded angrily. I was on my home turf now, and no-one was going to speak to me like that. ‘Your job is to look after me, not to hang around with, with, riff-raff ski instructors, ogling you from bar-stools!’
‘Why Charlie, I think you are jealous.’
‘Jealous, why should I be jealous? Just because you are warm and cuddly, and beautiful. And because you kissed me back!’
‘I did not!’
‘You did so, kiss me back!’
‘Well, perhaps a little.’
‘Well perhaps a lot!’
And we fell into each other’s arms. And this time I had no doubts about the kiss being returned.
In the morning, in my suite, a sleepy Bonnie stretched and yawned.
‘Get up,’ I said. ‘Make yourself respectable. Breakfast will be here in a moment. I hope you like omelettes.’
‘Omelettes again.’ Bonnie complained.
‘Good Grief, woman, Must we always bicker. It is almost time for your computer lesson.’
© Copyright H.St V.Beechey 1996