The 'Cousins'

Part Seventy-Six : Surprises all Round!

Part Seventy-SiX

Timeline: 14:05, Friday 20th April, Fawley Grain and Feed.

“Goddamn it Don, how many times you gotta be told! Orders ready to go out go on aisle ‘E”, that’s the sign with one bar goin’ upwards and three coming off it sideways on the same side.” Trish stood in her office, her face livid and her hands on her hips, bawling out Don Phillips the 300lb heavy weight  fork-lift truck driver at Fawley Grain and Feed.

“Cool down, Trish, this ain’t like you, what’s eatin yer? Yer like a bear with a sore paw.”

“What’s eatin’ me is folks that don’t keep to the system, do what they like, when they like  and make more work for ev’rybody else; mostly me.” A strand of unruly hair fell across her face, which she swiped away angrily, sighing gustily. 

Don stood silent and shamefaced like a school boy in front of a teacher. She pointed at him. “Now get that stuff shifted and put in the right places or there’s gonna be trouble. Any questions?”

Don shook his head, the downturn of his mouth hidden beneath the heavy growth of his grey, moustache. 

“Then what you doin’ still standin’ here gawpin’ at me. Get on it. Move it!” 

Don was about to come back at her when Fawley burst into the office area bawling at Trish like a raging bull.

“What the hell you think you’re playin’ at going’ up to the house botherin’ my wife an’ causin’ her upset?”  He pulled Trish with one hand and held a kitchen cloth with the other hand held over the left side of his face, covering his eye.

“I want answers from you an’ I want ’em now? I wanna know what you thought you wuz doin’ That’s what I wanna know. Answer me you damn renegade.”

Don had seen Fawley angry before, but not like this, the man was beside himself with fury, screaming at Trish. He decided to settle his own differences with her later and beat a hasty retreat back into the shadows of the barn warehouse.

Trish gritted her teeth as she tried unsuccessfully to prise the enraged man’s arm from her own. 

“Let go o’ me, you’re hurtin’.”

“Not till you tell me what game it is you’re playin’ with me missy.” He gave her arm a violent shake.

Trish was well placed to bring her knee forcefully into his crotch and clenched her jaw ready to deliver the blow, but common sense prevailed. She didn’t like working at the plant, but needed the job until she could find something better. There would be no way back for her if she kicked him, especially in the gonads. She pushed her face into his and screamed as loud as she was able.

“Let go of me you big lug before I kick you in what you got fer balls.”

The surprise of her counter attack shocked and brought him up short. He let go of Trish and stood staring at her with bug-eyed disbelief.

“What ...what’s that you said to me?”

Trish rubbed her arm, her face drawn and severe.

“I said to let me go. And you just did; ... so what is it you’re all upset about.”

He took a deep breath through his mouth preparing himself to rant at her again.

“Me! ... Upset? I’m more than upset missy.” His voice rose in pitch and volume as he spoke. “I goes home fer lunch with my good lady wife and she tells me you’ve been there a’ready givin’ her grief. Is that right Miss Conalty?”