Death Watch

by Cynthia Harrod-Eagles

  ‘It’s the best thing that’s ever happened to her, at least in her eyes. It would be cruel to ruin it for her, when just a few more . . .’

  His voice trailed away. He looked at Joanna apprehensively. Her eyes were very bright, her lips were pressed together tightly, her tail was lashing. She was ready to spring. Now it would come, he thought miserably, the torrent of anger, fear, hurt, resentment – the ultimatum, the shutdown, maybe the tears.

  Her shoulders started shaking. Tears then, he thought. That was the worst of all. He had never seen her cry, and the thought of it was terrifying.

  Then her lips burst apart and she almost screamed with laughter.

  ‘Oh Bill! Oh God, you’re priceless!’

  ‘I don’t see what’s so funny,’ he said at last, crossly, as she went on laughing.

  ‘A gala charity performance!’ She was sinking dangerously back into the water now, hitching for breath, tears of laughter squeezing out between her eyelids.

  ‘It’s not funny,’ he said, half resentful, half shamefaced.

  ‘Not to you,’ she agreed, and then went off again. ‘Oh you are a lovely man!’ she whimpered. ‘If you didn’t exist, it would be impossible to invent you.’

  ‘Careful, you’re going to go under,’ he warned. And then, from sheer contagion really, he started to smirk too.