Posted February 10, 2021 | Mike Wentworth
"Yeah nice meetin' you too," Charlie shouted as he waved goodbye to Brendan. Turning back he could see Arabella was still there and so was his brother. Didn't they have something else to do?
Mike frowned at Arabella's suggestion of throwing a few more drinks down Charlie. Getting him more drunk than he was now was the last thing on his mind. And what was she said about some promise Charlie had made to take her and friend to the mission? Maybe a day with Arabella would give his youngest brother a chance to think things over and realise that it was time to start learning some self-control over alcohol or suffer the consequences.
Turning to the young girl, he smiled, "I thank you for your assistance in this matter but now it is time to say goodnight. Good evening, Miss Arabella."
Not waiting for a reply, he looked at Charlie, "Say goodnight to the young lady."
Charlie raised an eyebrow, "Good night? I'm only just getting started and the night is still young."
"That's what you think," Mike said as he made a move towards Charlie. In desperation Charlie took a swing at his brother, who easily dodged the wayward throw.
Shaking his head, Mike sighed, "If that's the way you want it."
The next thing Charlie saw Mike's fist coming towards him and hitting him in the jaw. After Mike watched Charlie fall to the ground, he sighed again. He bent down and picked Charlie up like a sack of potatoes, swung him over his shoulders and headed off to meet his father.
"Everybody can feather their nest, but it's not just anybody that can lay an egg!"
Posted February 11, 2021 | Arabella Mudd
Turning to the young girl, he smiled, "I thank you for your assistance in this matter but now it is time to say goodnight. Good evening, Miss Arabella."
Well, that was her dismissed! It felt like a slap in the face for Arabella.
Not waiting for a reply, he looked at Charlie, "Say goodnight to the young lady."
Charlie raised an eyebrow, "Good night? I'm only just getting started and the night is still young."
There was a dangerous edge to Charlie’s voice and instead of making herself scarce as instructed, the teenaged girl remained rooted to the spot, somehow hypnotised by what was transpiring.
"That's what you think," Mike said as he made a move towards Charlie. In desperation Charlie took a swing at his brother, who easily dodged the wayward throw.
Shaking his head, Mike sighed, "If that's the way you want it."
Arabella was close enough to get trampled if this fight got serious, and even as she cried out “No!” and started forward recklessly, to throw herself between the battling brothers, a pair of hands gently but firmly pulled her back out of the way, she didn’t know who: Mr Flandry? Cookie? or maybe another member of the crowd around the makeshift bar. It may have been a kindness: someone concerned about her safety; or merely someone imposing the age old societal taboo on outsiders getting involved in ‘Domestics’ – violent fights between spouses, siblings and, most painful of all, parents and children.
The next thing Charlie saw Mike's fist coming towards him and hitting him in the jaw. After Mike watched Charlie fall to the ground, he sighed again. He bent down and picked Charlie up like a sack of potatoes, swung him over his shoulders and headed off to meet his father.
The blow had been sickeningly cool and calculated: with Charlie in his inebriated state it had been like shooting fish in a barrel, Arabella herself could have probably knocked the young man out if she’d tried! As she strained forward again to help the stricken Charlie, she realised that she was still being held back by kind hands. She stopped still, shaking her head, and they let go. “Poor old Charlie” she said out loud. The youngest Wentworth wasn’t the most pleasant person on occasion, drunk or sober, but there was something so humiliating about his easy takedown, she felt sorry for him. And his so-called brother! He had been a distant heroic figure to her before, but what she saw up close now sat ill with her. A thin but very real crack had appeared in the highly polished veneer of her image of the man, punching old Charlie like that!
“I’d better wash some of these glasses” she announced absently to nobody but herself, the romance and fun of the dance strangely dead and gone now.