Epiphany
The Writers' Block #30 - Theme: Epiphany - the day or the personal event
Kim had never been to Jill’s house before, so to receive the invitation was a glorious indication that she was being accepted as part of the village.
The house did not disappoint. Art was hanging from every wall, objects stood on pedestals and even the table’s gold centrepiece appeared to emit an energy proclaiming its very own pricelessness.
All the couples around the dining table seemed so content - comfortable in their own position and worth, happy in their skins. Whereas Kim was treading water, struggling to keep up with the conversations and clinging on like a lost soul would to a lifebuoy. Kevin, her husband, had gone quiet, realising that the others were all rugby and cricket fanatics and not at all interested in Sam Allardyce’s new appointment at Palace.
Jill’s voice cut through the table’s chatter. ‘Now, now. Kevin. You got Toby Tipple, so continue drinking. Kim’s doing very well as Mrs Prittle Prattle, aren’t you, dear?’ Her gaze landed on Kim, forcing her to nod in abeyance.
Kevin stuttered so Kim stepped in for him. ‘Yes, erm, Your Majesty. If I understand it correctly, you’re the Queen for the evening. Tom’s the King. My random card announced I should be Mrs Prattle, erm -’
‘Prittle Prattle, yes. It’s tradition, you see. We draw the cards so we have The Duchess of Puddle Dock as well and Counsellor Double Fee. Not forgetting Sir Tun Belly Wash. Now, I think it’s time for the Twelfth Cake to make its entrance.’
As if by magic, the door opened and her husband Tom entered with a huge and elegantly iced pink and white cake. ‘My subjects - I present to you this year’s cake, with so many plums and dates, they’ll hear you farting in Hertfordshire!’
The guests cheered and applauded.
Inwardly, Kim sighed and could see the strain on Kevin’s face. Why did they want to a part of this world? It had seemed such a good idea at first, but now...
Kim inhaled, ready to prattle for Britain. ‘Jill, sorry, erm, Your Majesty, this centrepiece. Such a marvelous object. A jug of sorts? It’s so... what’s the word? … Gold.’
‘Yes,’ the Queen tilted her head a little. ‘It’s a copy of the Rospigliosi Cup. Once I discovered that New York’s Metropolitan Museum of Art has over fifty forgeries, I thought it would be wonderful to collect the same fakes. A silly hobby, one could call it. Awful, isn’t it? A mermaidy, dolphiny lady pouring over the leaf atop a bird - a sphinx, do you think? - and that’s standing on a tortoise. So over the top I simply had to have one…’
The pause hung between them as though they sat in different centuries.
Yet Jill and Kim had one thing in common - the realisation that they would never be friends.
But Kim closed her eyes. Even though she felt like an intruder into an alien world, she clenched her fists under the table and decided she was not going to give up so easily. ‘Such an unforgettable evening. Thankyou. We’re thinking of hosting a Burns Night. Would you be interested in joining us?’
All conversation stopped. Everyone gawped.
Shit, thought Kim.