9. Embarassed.


Velma is laughing at me right now. She says I should write this down, so I will Maud, though do tell her to stop dismantling my cigarette box (she has of course just snorted, reading this over my shoulder, and wandered off to some other mischief – honestly, I can hardly keep up).

I know it’s been a little time since my last entry.

So today, we were a little bored, or at least, Velma was, and she decided we must confront the outrageous Mr. Pelham. Velma says it’s important that we challenge the misogynistic tropes that seek to enslave women, and that I should take Mr. Pelham to task for the whole rose thing (I did, of course, make the mistake of showing her the darling thing, with some pride, and she simply laughed that big, honking laugh of hers). It was all I could do to stop her picking the sepals off – a rose, after all is still a rose, though it does seem resolute in maintaining its bud-ish ness.

Perhaps a little growth?

Anyway, she marched up to Mr. Pelham, where he was playing Gin Rummy, and said, ‘look at it, you dirty old geezer’, and some such, and what was he playing at? Women ought to be free, and that he ought not to have a wife, or if he did, he ought not to cheat on the lovely woman, whomever she was. I was mortified.

The Deck Steward had to be called, there was a stramash, and I discovered that there is such a thing as a brig on-board, as there were several boos and calls of ‘take her to the brig’ – Velma, eyes flashing, at that – and one or two of ‘take him to the brig’, but Pelham clearly had no idea what Velma was talking about (not the stuff about male-female stereotypes, and how she was a better driver than anyone else on-board, hands down, but the rose).

The old gentleman was most embarrassed and I apologised. But Velma was annoyed at that, at my ‘deplorable subservience to the father figure’, so she marched us back to my cabin, and has insisted I relate the whole, ‘sorry tale’ in my ‘prissy little school book’, and I decided to do just that, to punish her, until we are talking again.

Oh dear, though – I’m sure I shall be the first to apologise.

There are cigarettes all over the floor.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *