Whilst the OU course has been completed the Weekend Writing Challenges have continued. This was last week's effort, albeit a little rushed, having taken up the challenge of writing about a hair dryer.
This was Rebecca’s week. Her friends. Her family. Whilst
Henry loved the idea of a cheap break when the two were courting little had he
realised that it was going to turn into an annual pilgrimage, bundling kit and,
as the years had passed, kids into the back of his beloved BMW and traipsing across Europe. There were many of
her traits, quirks and habits that he’d fallen in love with instantly, many
that he’d grown to enjoy and appreciate and a number that, regardless of how
they may seem annoying or frustrating to the outside world, he simply adored.
This, however, was not one of them. To make matters worse the girls were even
more excitable than their mother.
As the twins were getting older
it was clear that they were going to be a handful. Alice and Emily were eight
and were becoming more and more inquisitive, more and more aware that this time
of year meant one thing. Holiday, snow, skiing and meeting up with all the
other kids at the annual get together. For Henry it meant sleepless nights,
mind numbing idle chat with superficial yuppies and “old school chums”,
feigning a passing interest in strapping two planks of wood to his feet and
trying, at all costs, to avoid another four months in plaster like last year.
To say that skiing was not Henry’s forte was somewhat of an understatement. He
loathed it. But what he did enjoy was a peaceful life and to earn 51 weeks a
year of one he was willing to make certain sacrifices.
It had only taken eleven hours of
driving time to get from their leafy suburb in Tonbridge to Lausanne, taking
out the stops at the regular places and a stolen few hours of sleep at the
roadside motel just outside of Reims. Eleven hours, thirty two games of eye-spy
and three High School Musical sound tracks to be precise. Henry cursed his loins
for their failure to provide a son thus far. As the journey neared its end the
green and brown fields faded out into a white, icing sugar dusted carpet, then
to a washed out quilt as the snow enveloped everything in sight. Whilst this
made the driving treacherous and testing it was, if truth be told, Henry’s
favourite part of the week. The car’s passengers silent with more than a little
discomfort and unease as the road twisted and slithered upwards leaving Henry
to concentrate on the challenge and bond between man and machine. Bliss.
Two days in and Henry was already a broken man. No amount of
liquor laden hot chocolates or beer holding steins could prevent it. Two days
of listening to how Jenny’s dad was going to ski down the jump tomorrow, how
Arthur, who was seven, was already a better skier than daddy, how it was better
if mummy took the girls out on the slopes because daddy was too slow. Meanwhile
Rebecca’s friends were even worse. How wonderful that Millie and John just
built a new five bedroom home from French railway sleepers. How delightful that
Arthur’s sister Jemima was in the fast track Olympic skating squad aged twelve.
How superb that Aggie could stop working now Charles was in line for the CEO
role at Jaguar. Urgh. Henry’s suggestion that Rebecca and the girls could walk
home fell on deaf ears like most of his sarcastic acknowledgments and retorts
had already.
He couldn’t even grasp a quiet
night. The two days, though irritating, were nothing compared to the nights.
For some reason Rebecca’s impression of a deep sleep was just convincing enough
so that when Alice and Emily awoke, as they invariably did at around 3am on
holiday, Henry dared not stir her and instead answered the squeaks and girly
giggling himself. He wasn’t convinced by Rebecca’s “Is everything ok?” on his
return to bed either, especially knowing
that despite her apparent consciousness now she’d be sounds asleep again in
twenty minutes when it all kicked off again. Still, he kept telling himself, it
was just one week. Besides, fortunately, this trip was going to be different.
This trip was going to change things forever.
It was the third night of the stay and, for once, it was
Emily and Alice who’s harmonious slumber was to be disrupted. Emily was the
first to awaken. Half asleep still she rolled restlessly onto her side, made
curious by the low humming coming from the direction of dresser by the window.
Her eyes lids pulled grudgingly apart, heavy from a full day’s play in the
bright sun. A large, blurry figure
appeared to be sat on the stool by the dresser and, for some reason, it looked
as though it was using their hair dryer. At first almost oblivious to the
character Emily grew increasingly alarmed. As her eyes contorted and strained
to focus she realised that the figure, silhouetted against the moonlight
creeping through the window, had a particularly furry outline. In fact she
realised, as her heart began to race and focus sharpened, that it was covered
from head to toe in thick, reddy-brown fuzz.
Emily
tried to whisper for her sister but was unable to make a sound, her voice
frozen with fear. Instead, as the fuzzy figure continued to tousle and fluff
away just feet in front of them, she tossed her pillow over hitting Alice
across the back of her head. Alice sat, bolt upright, about to return the
missile when she saw that Emily looked like a ghost, her finger to her lips,
shaking. Alice didn’t know what to make of things and paused, confused by this
unheralded attack. Then, as the stool creaked and groaned they both turned
simultaneously to see what was going on. As their gaze moved steadily towards
the dresser the low hum from the hair dryer stopped and ebbed away, revealing
the shuffling footsteps from beneath its din. Both sets of eyes worked they way
up from the knees, across two tree-trunk like thighs, the barrel chest and up
to the sunken eyes of the beast in front of them that had made it’s way over
between the two beds. Big Foot? Sasquatch? Yeti? Neither cared much what it
was, all they knew was that it was, somehow, in their room, and that it seemed
huge. As they went to scream it held it’s hands over each of them, silencing
them before even a peep could be uttered, and said in a low, gravely tone –
“Sleep!”
Without
hesitation both girls lay flat, covering their heads with their quilts,
straight as an arrow and still as a rock. Only the undulating sheets showed any
signs of life as the groaning floorboards and squeaking door hinge echoed the
monster’s exit. The girls didn’t sleep, but they didn’t move an inch until 8am when
their alarm went off and they raced through to their parent’s room. Both girls,
normally preferring their mum’s cuddles, sprinted across to Henry and grabbed
him tight. Neither said a word, just held like two limpets. Despite their best
efforts neither Rebecca nor Henry could get a word out of the twins to find out
what had caused such unheralded affection. Henry just smiled to himself and, as
he made his way down to breakfast with a girl clutching each leg, he kicked an
empty, furry foot and mask back beneath the bed. The rest of the week was as
peaceful as he could ever have hoped for.
