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A Tail With a Beard
‘Psht!’
‘What?’
‘Psht, be quiet! I think someone is following us!’
Glancing around at my best friend Patsy, I rolled my eyes. Someone following us? Ridiculous!
Yes, absolutely ridiculous. That fool got himself caught again! The third time in a row!
As inconspicuously as possible, I tried to wave away the tip of the brightly coloured turban sticking out from behind a nearby rosebush.
Shew! Shew! Begone!
‘Surely you’re just imagining things,’ I told Patsy with a bright smile. My hand was still waving behind my back like a mad windmill. ‘I mean, who would follow us? That would be silly.’
Go home, you big oaf! Go!
The turban didn’t listen to my mental urging. But at least it fully submerged behind the rosebush. Branches cracked, and a Punjabi curse rose into the air.
‘What was that?’ Patsy whirled around, trying to locate the noise.
‘What?’ I asked, the picture of innocence drawn by a blind, arm-amputated artist.
‘That noise! Someone said something. Sounded foreign to me.’ Suspiciously, Patsy peered at a mother passing nearby with a stroller, considering her as a serious candidate for tropical profanity.
‘It’s probably that Italian count,’ Flora sighed, a dreamy look in her eyes. ‘Don’t you remember, Patsy? He was quite taken with you at the ball the other night. Maybe he has fallen madly in love with you, and now he is drawn inextricably towards the love of his life.’
‘Madly in love, eh?’ Hefting her parasol, Patsy surveyed the peaceful surroundings as if they were the fields of Waterloo just before the big attack. ‘Well, I’m a charitable person. I would love to cure him of his mental illness.’ Gently, she stroked her parasol. ‘And I think I know the right medicine.’
I did my best to join the others’ laughter, while simultaneously gesturing frantically at the turban, which had once again partially resurfaced from behind the rosebush. Damn the man! Couldn’t he keep hidden for five minutes? Although, I had to admit, as a nearly seven-feet-tall, turban-wearing, sabre-swinging Indian in the middle of a public London park on a Sunday afternoon, that task did present some challenges.
‘All this talk of romance has given me an appetite!’ Eve proclaimed with her customary lack of logic. ‘Want to come and find something to eat?’
‘You go ahead,’ I said, nodding at my three friends. ‘I, um…have to go. I’ve…noticed a flower in that rosebush I’d like to admire.’
‘Admire away,’ Patsy told me. ‘I agree with Eve. I need something to eat. Where is that picnic we brought?’
The others flitted away, looking for a nice place to spread a picnic blanket. I, meanwhile, walked over to the rosebush.
‘Hm…what have we here?’ I mused in the manner of a botanical expert. ‘A rare specimen of Rosa Annoyinga Bodyguarda. I wonder, should I pluck a few of your petals?’
‘Allah have mercy on you if you try,’ Karim growled.
I gazed down at the big bodyguard kneeling behind the bush. His trousers were dirty, his turban sat askew, and a rose had gotten tangled up in his enormous beard. He looked like he’d tried to dance a tango with the vultures in the Sahara.
‘You don’t have to do this, you know,’ I offered hopefully. ‘You can just stay at home, comb your beard and polish your sabre. I’m sure I’ll manage on my own.’
Karim’s face stayed as wooden as a hundred-year-old oak. ‘Ambrose Sahib told me to protect you, so that is what I am going to do. You need have no fear, Sahiba. No one shall dare to threaten your life while I am with you. I shall not leave your side for one instant.’
‘Oh,’ I sighed, trying my best to smile, and failing miserably. ‘How wonderful.’
So I’m stuck with him. Great. That’s one more thing to put on the list.
The list.
The list of things I was keeping. The list of things I would be discussing with Mr Rikkard Ambrose the moment I saw him again. It would be a long list, and an intense discussion, preferably with a shotgun in my hand. My dear employer deserved a round or two of buckshot on his derrière for all the things he had done.
First and foremost among which is leaving me behind.
Pain, short and sharp, flared in my chest. It still hurt to think about it, damn him! We had been through everything together! We’d traversed wastelands, climbed mountains, hacked our way through jungles, and even through the London East End. He had always trusted me to have his back. Maybe even his heart. We had been a team. And now, out of the blue, he had work to do which was ‘too dangerous’.
‘Dangerous?’ I murmured, marching away in search of my friends, ignoring the big shadow darting from tree to tree somewhere behind me. ‘I’ll show him what’s dangerous! Just you wait until I get my hands on you, Rikkard Ambrose! You won’t know what’s hit you!’
Or maybe he would. He should be pretty familiar with my right hook, after all.
*~*~**~*~*
The picnic with my friends didn’t last very long. I wasn’t really in the mood for a leisurely Sunday afternoon in the park. With Mr Ambrose an ocean away, facing God only knew what kinds of dangers, all I wanted to do was grab the picnic blanket, tie it to the nearest mast, and sail off after him.
Instead, I returned home. At least this was one place where I didn’t have to deal with my overgrown bearded shadow. Karim stopped short of sneaking into my house and hiding in my aunt’s closet. I think he had originally intended to, but then caught sight of my aunt and thought better o
f it.
‘There you are, girl! Where have you been?’
Hester Mahulda Brank strode towards me, her eyes flashing like daggers in her vulture-like face. ‘I’ve been looking all around the house for you!’
‘Oh. Then maybe I should have stayed out longer.’
‘Don’t you get smart with me, young lady!’
