He had been quietly
cultivating a friendship with Iris all day on the dig, which in reality meant
giving her dreamy looks and sighing a lot. Now he felt his persuasive
personality had paid off.
“Oh, hello Iris.” David’s
larynx bunched up like a tangle of rubber bands in his throat.
“Hello you.” Iris
snuggled into her large scarf and woolly hat. “I thought you might like some
hot soup.” She produced a thermos of soup from her shoulder bag.
“Soup.” David tried to
get his tongue working.
“Yes, hot soup. We could
share if you like?”
“Share.” David croaked.
“Shall I help you with
that?” Iris took the chair from his grasp. “Shall we go?” David might have read
the manual on spotting a criminal in a crowd, but he didn’t have a clue when it
came to spotting love, whereas Iris Woo could.
The couple set up camp at
the edge of the dig and David offered his chair to Iris. She sat down and
poured the hot soup in to plastic cups.
“It strange how things
work out isn’t it?” Iris started the conversation. And then they got talking.
When two people finally
get together there is a lot to talk about. The cold didn’t bother them, the
wind didn’t seem to bore into their bone marrow and the soup from a plastic cup
tasted like ambrosia. Love does that to the uninitiated. To Iris and David it
even made the instant coffee taste like the real thing. They passed a good hour
and a half chatting about this and that and were just getting started on how
they both ‘really’ liked watching that cooking programme on television when a
shrill screech stopped all conversation.
“What was that?” Iris
whispered grabbing David’s arm.
“Probably just an owl.”
“Oh.” Iris marveled at
David’s ornithological knowledge.