Rachel Rothstein’s Flying Leap (failed) Part I

and there’s Debra, with three shopping bags from the kind of shops the high mucky-mucks go to, racking up bills on my son’s plastic, when she sees me on the other side waiting for the walking green. But I’d seen her first. I’m ready. I smile. She comes across the road and plants a kiss on my cheek, then steps back and looks at my outfit, the nerve of her. I’ve got on one of the two cardigans with brass buttons that she bought me, so I score one there already. But Debra furrows her brow in concern and says ‘Rachel, I’ve asked Sofiya to make sure you’ve always got clean things, why do you go around in a soiled cardigan? Where’s your red one?’

Keep the smile, I think, and quick as a die I snap: ‘In the cleaners, how d’ya like that?’ 

Another for me! Boy, was I racking them up! Except that when she walks me home, Ms Sartorial Concern shoves her way into the closet before I can get to it, coming out with, you got it, my red cardigan on a hanger and in need of a good rub-a-dub. 


Read Part II