“Ta, luv,” says Amy, as she takes a cigarette with one hand, as she flicks the last of the crumbs from her fingers on the other hand onto the carpet next to her.
“You’re the last of me girlfriends who smoke, luv.”
Lillian laughs the laugh of a chimney belching soot. “I’m the last of your girlfriends who is still living, darling.”
The both laugh conspiratorially.
“To the old and the lame,” says Lillian as she flicks the lighter in Amy’s direction.
Amy drags hard, exhales and coughs a long, wet guttural cough. “To the dead, long may they stay that way.”
They both cackle.
Lillian stands back and motions in the direction for Amy to walk. Amy leads with her stick, the result of Amy’s first Tinder date. The doctors say she will make a full recovery. In the mean time, Amy is making the most of her new found source of self aggrandisement.
“You know you are not supposed to smoke in here,” says Amy.
“Puff away luv, we’ll get a few puffs in before they stop us…”
“You knew?”
“I’m old, I’m not stupid.”
Amy leads them away from their usual seat in the bay window of the Sands Restaurant. Lunch.
“Excuse me, Mrs Burlington-Smythe, Mrs Regis-Porter.” A voice can be heard behind them somewhere.
“Think of it as Portsea 1984,” says Lillian. “Move along, Amy, dear.”
Amy laughs. “I know exactly what you mean Lillian Smythe… or should I say who… you… mean?”
“Mrs Burlington-Smythe, Mrs Regis-Porter…” The voice is taking on an exasperated tone.
“Lorne, 1985,” Lillian explodes!
Amy inhales noticeably. “Lillian, we vowed we’d never speak of that again!”
“Ladies,” says a rather rattled, effeminate waiter, who is now addressing them directly. He is holding two very dry glasses of white wine in each of his hands. “You’re not allowed to…” the waiter is shaking his head.
Lillian and Amy drop their burning cigarettes into each of the glasses of wine the waiter is holding. Plop, plop, hiss, hiss they both sound as they each go out.
“Ah… oh… well, Thaank yoou laadies.” His teeth are so gritted on ladies it is hard to really decipher what it is that he says.
Amy leads them away, Amy in her fur, of course, banging her stick on everything that comes before her. Lillian has on a cream Chanel Suit, she has a big bag and a wrap over her arm.
“Did you drive, dear,” asks Lillian. “Or did we come with driver? I damn well can’t remember.”
“I drove.”
“I guess that should be concerning,” says Lillian. She laughs. “But it’s not.”
“My driving?” asks Amy sounding insulted, as she hit everything in her path with her stick.
“That I couldn’t remember which car we came in.”
“We came in my car, that’s what I am trying to tell you.” says Amy. “And you say it is me that has the Alzheimer’s.”
“Three hundred and sixty five dollars,” says the cashier.
“I’ll think you’ll find it is six hundred and twenty five,” says Lillian.
“I’m sorry,” says the cashier questioningly.
“Recalculate it for me, luv,” says Lillian. She points at items on the bill with her perfectly manicured nails. “No, no, and no.”
“Oh Lillian,” says Amy apologetically.
“Who do you think ran the business, darling?” slurred Lillian. “Denis?” Incredulously.
A few minutes later. “That will be Three hundred and twenty five dollars.” The cashier was twitchy by this stage.
“Thank you,” says Lillian as she swipes her card.
Amy and Lillian are sitting up in the front seat of Amy’s Humber. “I can’t see around that blessed tree, Lillian dear, can you see?”
Lillian made a cursory look over her left shoulder. “No darling, I can’t see a thing.” Lillian looked decidedly worse for wear.
Amy is gunning the engine.
“You can’t see anything?”
“Not a thing, darling,” says Lillian.
“I’m just going to back out then,” says Amy. “I’m going to back out slowly. Just going to back out now, sweetie.”
“Back out slowly,” says Lillian.
Amy selects reverse, the car jumps as it goes into gear. “I’m just going to back out slowly. Back out slowly.”
“Back out slowly,” says Lillian. “There she blows.”
“I’m going to back out slowly,” says Amy. “I can’t see a thing.” She lets off the hand brake.
“Off you go,” says Lillian. “Let’s get this show on the road, darling.”
“I’m going to back out slowly,” says Amy. “I can’t see a thing.”
“Back out slowly, luv. Back out slowly.”
Amy pushes on the accelerator, the car lurches back. Amy laughs.
“Back out slowly,” says Lillian.
Amy pushes on the accelerator again. The car lurches out into the traffic. There is the sound of screeching tyres and sounds of car horns.
“I’m just going to back out slowly,” says Amy. “I can’t see a thing.”
“Now’s your chance, darling, they have all stopped for you. Look.”
“I thought you said you couldn’t see anything?”
Amy pushes on the big Humber’s accelerator pedal and the big black sedan careers out into the traffic.
“I’m just going to drive off slowly.”
“Fuck the slowly,” says Lillian. “Floor it Amy, for fuck’s sake!”
Amy pulls down hard on the gear stick, and with a quick rev of the engine, and the perfectly timed engagement of the gear, the big sedan roars away in a straight line, with a small, ballsy some might say, squeal of the tyres.
“Steady on, sweetie,” says Lillian. “You can slow it down a bit…now. Luv.”
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