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   Chapter 10 No.10

Sheryl's Last Stand By Kerrie Noor Characters: 5180

Updated: 2018-02-07 12:01

'And soon, ' said Mad Brady, 'you'll be fighting in your homeland again. Is your fair lady coming with you?' The crowd roared, a few waved Union Jacks. 'That's right, folks, the negotiations are over. The fight for the Celtic Title is on. England will never be the same again!'

'They're coming to England?' said Sheryl, her heart beginning to thump.

'Johnston too, ' said Beatrice.

'What! You knew and you never thought to tell me?'

'Yeah, it's bigger than the Olympics!' Mad Brady began to shout, before giving Jim, the other commentator, a friendly thump on the shoulders. Jim looked back with the expression of someone who didn't think thumps on the back were friendly.

'They'll be in Oban next week, ' said Frances.

'Your pal, Nefer-whatisname is dancing for them, ' added Beatrice.

'What? When?' Sheryl started to pant; Johnston this close. 'We must get some tickets.'

Beatrice pulled the pamphlet from the coal bucket and tossed it across to Sheryl; the first thing Sheryl saw was the words "sold out" in red letters.

About the same time, a taxi pulled up by the gate, tooted loudly and then drove up the drive. No one heard over the TV or saw the two pink legs slide out of the car. She paid the taxi and struggled with her luggage to the front door. When no one answered, she, with her luggage beside her, fumbled around the back and peered into the patio doors.

Beatrice jumped with fright then she caught sight of the dentures.

'And now as East meets West, ' Mad Brady yelled into the microphone, 'and Japan's m

' muttered Rugby, who had watched it all through the windows of the Argyll, 'as tough as day old pizza and that bloody cheese on top!'

Beatrice looked down on Nefertiti; she didn't look so tough to her.

Nefertiti blew her nose, then handed Beatrice the damp tissue, 'I've made up me mind, ' she said. She looked at Sheryl. 'You 'ave to come with me to the wrestlers, Darl. Somehow, when you are nearby, I don't feel so bad. I look at you and think there are worse things that can 'appen to women.'


In the early hours of the morning, Sheryl lay in her bed and stared at her poster of Johnston, lit up by the streetlamp. She was too excited to sleep. For months, she had stewed over her hero, drooling over his dark nipples and tight butt. For weeks, she had slept under the images that were splashed across her room. And now finally, she was going to meet him. Perhaps her luck had changed, perhaps now there could be a turning point. She put her hands behind her head and wondered what sort of women Johnston liked.

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