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   Chapter 9 No.9

Sheryl's Last Stand By Kerrie Noor Characters: 5337

Updated: 2018-02-07 12:01

'Bugger off, ' he whispered.

Sam, who had a fondness for softly-spoken men, moved down a rung.

'Hiya, ' yelled Lindsey into her phone.

The curtains blew open and Steven caught a glimpse of Sheryl dancing.

Sheryl caught a glimpse of Steven's face at the window. But it was just a face to her, and she quickly assumed it to be burglar. She slammed the window shut as Steven's soft voice was drowned out by the music.

Frances and Beatrice stared out on to the scruffy lawn; the ladder wobbled a little.

'Lindsey?' yelled Steven.

'You know, Sheryl could do worse, ' said Frances. 'He's very clean and he's under fifty.'

A few crumbs of plaster sprinkled to the ground, followed by heavier rubble.

'And willing; how many would fumble up a ladder?'

Sheryl ran into the lounge mumbling something about a burglar, but stopped in her tracks as she recognised the ladder and the ginger blur that was now cascading down the ladder, accompanied by a feline scream.

'Sam!' she yelled.

Then with dignified silence, Steven tumbled past the window. With a dull thud, he landed in the nettle patch and let out a muffled 'Bugger.'

Beatrice reversed her chair to the side cabinet. 'Another dram?' she said. Frances held out her empty glass. Sheryl ran outside.

Steven lay on the ground with nettles artistically arranged about his person, mumbling incoherently.

That morning, he had woken up feeling positive. He had visions of himself coming down the ladder looking like a bit of rough out 'Lady Chatterley's lover'. A little bit of plaster dust, he thought wistfully, could

t's why you wrap yourself in those flowing skirts? And pour olive oil on everything?'

'Apparently, the Arabs used to rub olive oil onto their hips, ' said Steven, 'They say it's good for the skin.'

The women looked at him.

'I think you will find that it is the perineum, ' said Beatrice, reversing herself back to the sink and grabbing the whisky bottle.

'And here he is, hot from England, ' yelled a commentator over the blare of Rule Britannia. The crowd cheered as a white knight swirling a sword marched into the ring. Mad Brady, one of the commentators, stood in the ring, while Uno Sumo stood in the corner restrained by his Japanese sidekicks

'So, St Michael, are you ready for the fight of your life?'

The knight removed his helmet, waved to the crowd and then handed his sword to a small woman dressed in a fur-covered bikini. 'I am here to defend the honour of my Lady Ginger, and to thrash the living daylights out of all who have tarnished her name.' Some women sighed in the audience. Uno Sumo almost broke free from his restraints.

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