SUGAR AND SPICE AND ALL THINGS NICE

That's what little girls are made of...

Debbie looked at Wallace’s face through eyes that shone with what could only be love, and smiled at him, her long hair swept neatly over one shoulder and hanging where he longed to trail one finger through it.

“Do you mean that?” she asked.

“Do I mean the way I feel about you?” he asked, “look at me, I’m seventeen and much too young to have learned about telling lies! Of course I love you! I love every bone in your body! I love every smile on your face, looking at it now I love you more than I did when I started this sentence…”

“And I love you,” whispered Debbie.

They were standing at the condiments shelf in the local Aldi supermarket, and she picked up a packet of sauce mix.

“When I buy things like this,” she murmured, “and add water like the instructions say, I turn a rather boring looking powder into a delicious sauce which makes everything I pour it on taste so much better! And you’re like that, to me. Whenever I’m with you everything else seems so trifling somehow, so unimportant, such a waste of time and all that really matters is you.”

“I can’t believe you’re saying that,” he gulped, “I can’t believe you’re comparing me to a sachet of sauce mix…”

“And more,” she smiled, “a great deal more. In my heart I’m comparing you to my father.”

Wallace paled visibly when she said that.

“Your father?” he asked, “what about your father?”

“I know what people say about him, but the truth is so very different,” she sighed, “of all the men in the universe I love you more than anyone, Wallace, and that’s the truth. And after you I love my father. Every girl should love her dad, don’t you think? After all, he contributed a tiny something when she was conceived. It wasn’t all mummy’s doing, you know.”

“Sperm,” he sighed, “just a tiny microscopic sperm. Too small to be seen with the naked eye.”

“I know that, silly! But however tiny it is, that little bit helped create me and for that I’ll always be in his debt.”

“But isn’t he…?” Wallace daren’t put into words some of the things he’d heard about Debbie’s father. His name was anathema to those who knew him and poison to many who didn’t. There had been whispers about him, hints and stories of something he must have done, but he was the sort of young man who didn’t listen to tall tales until he knew the truth.

“In prison, doing life, I know,” she murmured, “but that doesn’t mean anything at all! And just you think about it: if he was out and free in the open air and not behind bars he might be number one in my list of people to love, and not number two as he is now. So where would that put you?”

This made Wallace feel uncomfortable. He knew things were said about the man, but in all truth wasn’t quite sure what it was said that he had done that landed him in prison for a life sentence. But he didn’t like to ask because it wasn’t Debbie who’d committed some draconian crime, but her father, and much as she claimed to love him they weren’t the same person, were they? And it was Debbie he loved with a certainty that was as solid as a rock.

“Anyway, it’s you I love,” he murmured, “come on, let’s go for a coffee and I’ll try to explain exactly how much when there’s nobody around to listen in!”

“I think I know that, silly,” she said.

He led her out of the shop, past the check-out because they weren’t buying anything, and to a nearby coffee shop. He ordered cappuccinos and they sat in a quiet corner. There were few people out and about because it was still quite early, and their conversation would be private enough.

“I don’t think there’s anyone in the world as good or delicious as you,” he whispered.

“Delicious? You mean you want to eat me?” giggled Debbie, “mouthful after mouthful until I’m all gone?”

“I bet you’d taste like sugar and spice and all things nice!” he grinned, wiping his lips with the tip of his tongue.

“Whilst you, being a boy, have the flavour of snips and snails and puppy-dog’s tails about you?” she laughed.

“That’s why you don’t find many girls wanting to eat boys,” he told her, “I mean, snails? Who’d want to eat snails?”

“In France they’re a delicacy,” pointed out Debbie. “I’ve eaten snails once, when mummy took us to France for a weekend, but puppy dog tails? Now you’d only got to wonder what disgusting stuff might be smeared on them! And wouldn’t the puppy dogs like to keep their tails in situ anyway?”

“And what are snips?” queried Wallace.

She shrugged. “No idea,” she said, “but I bet they’re not particularly delicious.”

“I think I’d be happier eating a little girl,” he smiled, “the ingredients sound a great deal more delicious than little boys!”

“I’ll ask dad next time I see him in prison,” said Debbie.

“Why? Would he know?”

“Of course he would!” laughed Debbie, “don’t you know his story?”

Wallace shook his head. “I’ve heard bits and pieces, you know, on the rumour-mill, but I try not to take any notice,” he murmured awkwardly.

“Then I’ll tell you. I know he wouldn’t mind. When I was born I was one of twins. Identical twins, as it happens, and daddy ate my sister, most of her flesh down to the bones. She was alive to start with, and perfectly healthy, but he was hungry so he got his teeth into her That’s what he’s always said and that’s why I love him nearly as much as I love you.”

“Why? That doesn’t make sense!” exclaimed Wallace.

“I love him because he chose her and not me,” explained Debbie, “he was hungry so he ate her and saved me for another day. But don’t let it worry you.”

“I, er, I…” he stammered.

“That other day never came because he was arrested and marched off by the police. Come on. Let’s go home to my house.” Then she winked at him, “I’m feeling peckish,” she added as she slid her tongue between her lovely white teeth, and winked at him. “Snips and snails and puppy-dog tails,” she added darkly, “probably equally delicious...”

© Peter Rogerson 10.08.21

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