Mary had been quite specific: if you are going to come to the party, you need to bring a boy. Preferably with a peacock feather.
“What does she mean a peacock feather?” said Em, “I can’t stand strutting types.”
“Don’ be silly, M. I don’t think that’s what she meant.”
“What did she mean then?”
“She meant to be more creative.”
“I don’t have a peacock feather. However, I found this pigeon’s feather on the ground.”
“That’s a bit disgusting.”
“Well, you said be creative.”
“I didn’t mean be disgusting.”
M started giggling.
“Do you remember that joke?”
“What joke?”
“You wander over very nonchalantly and whisper into his ear:
“Tickle your arse with a feather?”
“Then what happens?”
“If he says ‘What?’ you say, ‘Particularly nasty weather!’”
Em roared with laughter.
“That is too silly. It will never work.”
After a while, M, who was now a bit worse for wear, spied a boy she liked drinking on a Guinness. She sidled over and whispered the question.
Em could not hear the answer, but she saw the expression of bafflement on the Guinness boy’s face.
M came back very quickly.
“I told you it wouldn’t work.”
M looked at her and scoffed.
“There are always plenty of fish in the sea.”
Em finished her drink and held her hand out for the pigeon feather.
She walked across the bar to where a group of noisy blokes was sitting.
M cringed. This was going to be embarrassing, she thought.
Em picked out a curly haired boy in a leather jacket. She leaned over and whispered in his ear. He smiled and gave her the thumbs up.
Em walked back to the table.
“What did he say?” said M, unable to feign indifference.
“There’s good news and bad news. The good news is we’ve got dates for the party. The bad news is now they all want to have a go with the feather.”
*
“Are you ticklish?”
“You already know the answer to that.”
“True. You always were a terrible giggler.”
“Sylvia was ticklish, too, I recall.”
“I can’t believe she is a headmistress.”
“Everyone has their dark side.”
“The Department of Education will take a dim view.”
“Sylvia is a department of education all by herself.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Never mind. Does chicken tickle your fancy?”