Breakfast at Cordelia’s Aquarium
An Easter Egg…Hiding Behind The Couch!
by
Debbie McGowan
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https://www.beatentrackpublishing.com
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This story is a work of fiction and the characters and events in it exist only in its pages and in the author’s imagination.
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This is a very short, fun interlude in the Hiding Behind The Couch series.
Unlike the rest of the series, which is written in third-person (semi-omniscient) past tense, this short story is written in first-person present tense.
It has no real bearing on anything else that happens in the series; it is what it is: an Easter Egg.
It is entirely self-indulgent, for which I make no apologies.
~ Deb ~
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Table of Contents
Breakfast at Cordelia’s Aquarium
Other Publications
About the Author
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Breakfast at Cordelia’s Aquarium
An Easter Egg…Hiding Behind The Couch!
Easter Sunday morning: I drive up and down the road a couple of times before I spot the sign. I park opposite and stop the engine, but stay in the car; I need a moment to calm down. Deep breaths, in, out, trying not to think too hard about where I am and why, I take in the view of the building: the shop-front window, which at first glance appeared to offer a glimpse of activity inside, is entirely filled by a vibrant mural depicting children and their parents, school kids and their teachers, all wide-eyed and amazed, gazing at tropical fish swimming all around them. Now I’m stationary, I can see that it’s not photo-realistic, but it’s lifelike nonetheless, created by a skilled artist with a keen eye and a knack for capturing emotion.
I check the clock on my dashboard: I’ve been sitting here for five minutes already, but I’m still nervous. I wonder if they’re all here yet? The email said ‘see you around eleven’ and it’s only quarter to now, but knowing what I know I’m quite sure tardiness won’t be tolerated, and there’s no reason why I should be late. I’m already here, after all.
I glance along the other side of the street, noting the makes and models of the cars parked there: the silver Ford Focus I recognise; behind that is a sleek, black, four-door convertible and I’m not familiar with the maker’s badge. I think it might be a Maserati, but while I’m contemplating looking it up on the internet, another car arrives and my curiosity about the black convertible instantly evaporates in the epic wake of the huge red 1969 Mustang. It cruises past, the bass beat of the music turning the lioness purr of the engine into subsonic waves that I feel rather than hear. The last remaining parking space outside the building is nowhere near big enough for the Mustang, and I watch the car in my rear-view mirror, all the way to the end of the street. It takes a left turn, likely doing just as I did and using the roundabout at the next junction to turn around and come back.
I shift my gaze to the space behind my car, which is more than big enough to take the Mustang, so the question now is do I wait so I can walk in with them, or do I make a quick dash for it? Before I reach a decision, another car arrives and, by my reckoning, this should be the last. It’s another classic car: a Jaguar E-Type, in British Racing Green, and the driver expertly parallel-parks in the space forsaken by the Mustang, which has also returned, though I hear it before I see it. It stops behind me and the engine growls down. Both doors open, at the same time as those of the Jag, and the two couples acknowledge each other with waves and smiles, following up with affectionate hugs and kisses and claps on the back. They spend a moment chatting. It’s so relaxed and natural I don’t even think about what they might be saying. I’m just enthralled to watch them, but then a head turns my way, followed by another and another, and their smiles fade. Their expressions become serious, inquisitive, suspicious; I can delay no longer.
Fumbling with the door handle, I curse at myself for how nervous I am. It’s not as if these people are strangers, or, rather, I’m a stranger to them, but I know them all so well, which I think is what’s worrying me the most, and it’s now five minutes to eleven, so I’m already off to a bad start. Somehow, in spite of my shaking hands, I get the door open, step out of the car without incident, close and lock the door, taking a moment to check I have everything I need and I haven’t left anything valuable on display inside the car.
“Hello there! You must be Deb?”
I jump at the sudden announcement of the man’s presence, no chance of covering my shock, or my terror, but I’m also relieved that it’s him.
“Yes,” I say, smiling far too brightly. “Sean?”
“That’s right.” He holds out his hand to me and I instinctively shake it. A big, warm hand, the back covered in dark hair, I notice. He smiles back at me.
“Are you OK? Did you find the place all right. Stupid question, of course you did. You’re here.”
This makes me laugh and feel a little less anxious.
“Yes, I found it straight away. Your directions were very clear.”
“That’s grand. Shall we go and join the rest of them?”
I nod enthusiastically, or like an idiot, I don’t know which. “Yep, sure.”
I follow Sean across the street and he peers back at me. “So I got the impression you were after an informal get-together. Is that right? Or did you have a schedule, or interview questions or something?”
“Oh, informal, definitely. I’m grateful you all agreed to let me come along.”
“You’re welcome, for sure. Between you and me, I think we should all get together for breakfast more often. Best meal of the day.”
We arrive at the door to ‘Cordelia’s Aquarium’ and Sean opens it, gesturing for me to go first. I do so with what I hope is a gracious smile.
“You look like you can’t quite believe we agreed,” he observes.
“In all honesty I can’t quite believe I’m here,” I admit.
Sean’s left eyebrow lifts but the right one stays put. He gives me a grin and leans close. “To be truthful, I’m flattered you want to write about me.” He steps away again, still grinning. “I say me. Us. It does shocking things to the old male ego, so it does.”
“Yeah,” I concur with a smile and we move off again. I’m slowing us down, because I want to take it all in. I’m in Cordelia’s Aquarium. The corridor we’re strolling along is lined on both sides with large tanks illuminated by fluorescent and ultraviolet strip lights, creating a mystical glow in the otherwise dark, humid passage. I have no clue what most of the creatures are, but I guess that the bright peachy stones are coral and the things that look like big balls of neon hair are anemone. In one tank I spot a shoal of clown fish, which I can only identify because I’ve seen the movie; in another tank I spot what I think are some kind of octopus, but equally could be squid. I feel like I know next to nothing and I am in the presence of genius.
“What are they?” I ask Sean, pointing to the tank.
He stops walking and squints at the creatures within. He shrugs. “I haven’t a clue. Squid? You’d be better asking the proprietor. Or Josh. He might know.”
I can already imagine how that would play out and decide it’s safer to remain ignorant.
Sean’s still watching the unidentified cephalopods, his frown in this light making his thick dark eyebrows seem like a giant black caterpillar. “They’re ugly as sin,” he says and he’s right. They’re not attractive, but he is, caterpillar eyebrows and all. It’s the Northern Irish accent that does it.
“They’re clever though,” I say on behalf of the squid-octopuses.
“True enough,” Sean agre
es. “They can open jars and all kinds. Do you think they have their own little undersea shops?” He gives me a twinkle-eyed wink and I laugh again.
A door opens up ahead. A man comes through it into the corridor, but I’m blind from staring into the tank and I can’t see him well enough to tell who he is.
“Alright, mate?” he says to Sean as he jogs past.
“Alright, Andy,” Sean replies.
My heart jolts and races off at some ludicrous speed that I’m sure is enough to give me a heart attack. For a moment I get away with it, because Sean’s attention is on Andy, but then he turns it on me and that grin is back, except…damn.
“Are you ready to meet the rest of them?” he asks. “Before your man returns?”
I’m blushing. I know I am, because my face is absolutely burning. And I’m also starting to doubt myself. What if these people are nothing at all