The Devil's Own

THE DEVIL'S OWN
`All right I'll do it, but I warn you I'm not a good liar and if you
so much
as raise an eyebrow I shall laugh and give the game away. Do you
understand?'
Betty's hand trembled as she reached for the 'phone. She hated
deceiving anyone and to tell a barefaced lie to Doris, her best friend
and
holiday companion for as long as she could remember was very much
against
her principles, but needs must when the devil drives, she told
herself.
Her finger touched the buttons in rapid succession. Perhaps
Doris
would be out shopping ; she hoped so, after all it was the middle of
the
afternoon. She completed the number and at once the distant bell began
to
ring. She pictured Doris's dingy little London flat. Some people would
think
it tasteful but to Betty it was oppressive with dull colours,
heavy
furniture, and those dreadful net...
`Hello!'
`Hello Doris, how are you Dear?'
`Is that you Betty? How nice to hear you. I'm very well, and you?'
The
same old patter. They'd been saying the same things to each other once
a
month for something like thirty years. What a waste of money! Get
on
with it, Betty thought, I know what's coming next. `...and what have
you been
doing with yourself lately?' There she goes, and now Mum... `How's
your
mother Dear, still enjoying life is she?'
`Mum's well thanks,' Betty said, ` and what do you think? I've
just
painted my bedroom, red and black...' that'll shock her.
`You haven't; I don't believe it. It must look like a whore's
palace!'
`It looks very nice. Rich and comfortable and my new heliotrope
carpet sets it off to a....'
`Purple! You haven't got a purple carpet! Betty I don't believe
it.
You'll grow tired of it so quickly. Why won't you ever use nice soft
shades
like.....'
`Doris, you know I'm not a nice soft pastel shades person.'
`I've changed my car again.' said Doris. She sounds so smug
Betty
thought.
`Why? You only changed it last year Dear.'
`I've bought an automatic.'
`How extravagant,' said Betty wondering what had possessed her
friend to indulge in such an unnecessary luxury.
`Now about the holiday...' said Doris. Here we go! Betty took a
deep
breath. She wasn't looking forward to this.
`Yes, I wanted to have a word with you about it.'
`Did you Dear? What did you want to say?'
`It's my feet,' Betty lied.
`Your feet?' Doris sounded incredulous.
`Yes, they've been playing me up something rotten...' May you be
forgiven Betty Proudfoot, she prayed silently.
`I know just what you mean.'
`You do?'
`I really can't go anywhere until I've had something done about
mine.
They're in an appalling state.'
Betty couldn't believe what she was hearing. This was her story.
The
thought of lying to her friend had caused her sleepless nights. She'd
been
off her food; she'd been so anxious she'd begun chewing her finger
nails, and
all for nothing. Doris was crying off and saving her the trouble. `Oh I
am
sorry.' she lied again.
`Please forgive me Betty. I am going to have to call the holiday off
this
year. Perhaps you will be able to find someone else to go with
you.'
Betty heard herself saying how sorry she was that Doris would not be
able
to go on holiday and that she wouldn't dream of going with anyone
else.
`It wouldn't be the same at all. I'll be content to go on day trips
along the
coast,' she said, `There are lots of wonderful gardens to visit in
Sussex and
Rustington's very convenient for Hampshire and Kent. I shall amuse
myself
very happily, don't you give it another thought Dear. Just concentrate
on
getting your feet right, that's all and we'll look forward to next
year.'
Doris's voice droned on in Betty's ear. She was going into hospital
to
have her bunions done. Thank the Lord for that, was Betty's only
thought.
She lay back on her pillows and smiled.
`Goodbye Doris, let me know how you get on.' she said.
`Bye-bye then, God bless.'
Betty replaced the receiver and giggled. as a large hand groped
it's
way across her naked body beneath the duvet. Sliding in a familiar
manner
between the spare tyres it cradled an ample breast in its palm.
`Phew! Thank Heavens that's over,' she said, snuggling into the
hairy
embrace under the duvet. `We may be living in sin Arnold, but
there's
someone up there taking good care of me!'
`Perhaps you should be directing your thanks elsewhere.'
chuckled
Arnold, `The Devil looks after his own you know!'

750 words. F.B.S.R.
Rosa Johnson.