by Deana Murray, St Flannan’s College
Junior Category – First Prize

“Oh God, I can’t be late.” And with that, in shot Sharon Cane, through the door of 25 Oakvale, like a child rockets into a sweetshop. Normally, a schoolteacher is home by four o’clock but not today. Oh no, God no.

Some little child was bringing up his homework when he tripped over his open lace and, because one hand was in his pocket and the other was holding his copy, Smack, bang, wallop went the child onto the floor, face first. When Sharon whizzed to pick up the fallen child, she was splashed in the face by a spurt of blood, which was on free flow from a broken nose.

After several failed attempts of trying to get hold of parents to come collect their spurting fountain and rush him to the A&E, Sharon got lumbered with the task of running the volcano over to the hospital. At six o’clock that evening, the long awaited parents finally turned up to collect their now mended child. After receiving five minutes of over enthusiastic thank yous, Sharon dashed out of the dingy waiting room, sped towards her car and made her way home formula-one racing style for a meal with her husband, Michael at 6.30. It was now 6.15. The restaurant was a good 20 minutes drive away.

Searching desperately for the phone, while trying to find an outfit to wear for the evening – blood stained white shirts just weren’t in this season – Sharon noticed Michael wasn’t home yet. His suit was still hanging in the wardrobe. For the three years and six months she had known him (just married six months ago), she had never known Michael to be late, especially since this was an important dinner.. They were celebrating his promotion. Sharon knew it meant more work but surely he would be let out to see his wife.

After finding the phone, under a pile of clothes slung over a chair, Sharon anxiously dialled Michael’s number, praying nothing was wrong. “Hello,” that warm, gentle voice that Sharon loved greeted her.
“Hi Mike, t’is only me. Just wondering if everything is okay and are we still on for tonight? Oh yeah, can you move back the reservation, I only just got in the door. Long story.”
“Oh hi Poppet,” beamed Michael. That always succeeded in making her laugh. When they first started going out, Sharon used to eat loads of poppets. Michael used to tease her, saying she would turn into a poppet one day. The name stuck ever since.
“I was just about to ring you. I’m sorry but I can’t make it. A huge meeting has come up.” Those words brought Sharon crashing back down out of a cloud nine.
“What? But you always make it home in time for dinner,” replied a truly gutted Sharon.
“I know Poppet but this is huge, it could mean….” Sharon never found out what this meeting could mean. At that moment, Sharon heard a female voice telling Michael to hurry up; she wouldn’t wait any longer, followed by a devilish chuckle. This demand was followed by Michael replying, “Hang on a minute dear.”
“Who the hell is that woman?,” a puzzled Sharon wanted to scream but refrained from doing so. Just as Michael was about to start talking again, another female voice barged in telling him that they would go ahead without him and Tony wouldn’t wait.. Another strange remark escaped Michael’s lips. “Hang on a minute darling.”
“Hold the phone, who are these women?,” a panic-stricken Sharon wanted to bellow down the phone. Before she got a chance, Mike had made his goodbyes and hung up.

Sharon sank into her white leather sofa and decided to consult her best friend Dana on the matter. Dana was 24, like Sharon. She had also had more boyfriends than you could shake a stick at. She could also smell a rate miles away. When she rang Dana, she was at her parents’ house but listened to everything over the phone.
When Sharon had taken the first breath in five minutes, Dana decided now was the time to butt in. “Do you really think that Michael would have an affair?,” asked a sceptical Dana.

“No but they said Tony was waiting for them. He’s Michael’s best friend.. Maybe they were going out with these girls. Tony isn’t married.”
“Yes but Michael is. To you.”
“Yeah, I know but this is exactly how Dad acted and we all know how that went.” Sharon’s Dad used to come out with excuses like this for months until it had been revealed he had been sleeping with his secretary. This resulted in her parents’ bitter divorce.. She was hell bent on making sure it didn’t happen to her.
“Right, go down there now and see what is going on for yourself,” declared Dana.
“What if it is only a meeting,” panicked Sharon.
“Well then, you have nothing to worry about do you?, replied a weary Dana.
“Okay, I-I’ll go now, b-bye.” With that, a nervous hand placed the receiver back again while a trembling hand picked up the car keys and a shaky figure made its way to the door.

Sharon had to admit that was one of the longest journeys she ever made. Shakily, she made her way out of the car and nervously stumbled her way towards the huge stone building of Max Inc where Michael worked as a salesman. Inside it was silent, like the calm before the storm. All that could be heard was the wobbly, click-clack making its way to office number 124 of Michael Adam Cane.

Anxiously, she grasped the brass door knob in both hands and pushed it open Only a pile of papers greeted her. For a few minutes she feared the worse until a tall, stunning blonde asked her if she was in need of assistance. When Sharon said who she was looking for, the blonde told her to try Martina’s office, number 118 on the floor below.

“What is he doing down in her office. I thought it was a meeting he was in,” raged Sharon to herself. “How dare he treat me like this!” With that she flew down to 118.
All guns blazing, she burst in the door, screaming like a banshee. “Michael Adam Cane, what the hell to you think you are – are a…?”
Michael never got to find out what his wife thought he was doing because at that moment, Sharon saw six startled and terrified faces staring at her. This included her husband who was in mid-pitch selling a product.
“Oh God, strike me now,” prayed Sharon. “I – I just came to wish you good luck,, that was all. I – I will see you at home later, bye.”

In her hurry to get away with whatever dignity she had left, she never saw women behind her carrying trays of tea and all sorts of biscuits. Smack, bang, crash went Sharon into the two girls and the china met its doom on the tiled floor. Three stained white tops and a blushing beetroot bent down and began to fix the mess at once.
As Sharon was mopping up at an unnaturally fast speed, Michael interrupted her. “Ah, Poppet…”
“Yes,” barked Sharon, half barking and half dying of embarrassment.
“I would like you to meet my two secretaries, Martina Darling and Fiona Dear, or as we call them here, Dear and Darling.”