The Good{Expat}Life

#6 Operation W*nkers

Operation W*nkers 

'Here's to Operation W*nkers!' Roger announced chinking his glass first with George, and then Penny's. He turned to Daphne and his hand slipped. A blood-red patch spread through her cream silk top. 

'Thanks, no wonder you're the senior w*nker of all,' snarled Daphne, rubbing at the stain with a paper serviette.  

The term 'w*nkers' was the collective noun Roger had allocated to them. He and Daphne were referred to as the seniors and Penny and George as the juniors. Penny thought Roger learnt the unsavoury term from his stint at boarding school. Penny giggled at the image of Roger in a cap and wrinkled socks around his ankles.  

Daphne did not look amused. 

'Sorry, I wasn't laughing at... I'll get some soda water,' Penny went to the bar and returned with a siphon, which she pointed at Daphne's chest. 

'Ehm, I think not, Penny if you don't mind.' Daphne placed her hand over the siphon nozzle. 'This is pure silk, cost me a-'  

Penny saw Roger's eyebrows rise, waiting for Daphne to confess.  

'It doesn't matter, I can pop it into the dry cleaners tomorrow and if the stain doesn't come out I'll give it to the charity shop. Those poor people will wear anything. Then Roger,' Daphne turned to her husband and Penny watched a sickly smile form, 'can fork out for a new one. Can't you, darling?' 

Roger smacked his lips together. 'Of course, love bucket, anything you want, m'dear.' His ruddy faced crinkled into a thousand lines as he moued and grabbed Penny's knee. 

'Well then, it really is Operation Winkers?' he winked. 'What's the plan?' 

Penny pushed his hand away. 'George is in charge, I believe.' Roger spluttered into his beer. 

George handed Roger the list of items from the spoils of the past ten years of their life. Penny had sold all of the big items, the money going towards the funds needed for the trip. The coffers were hidden in an old mustard jar at the back of the pantry. Penny surmised the cash was as safe there as anywhere, particularly as they no longer had a bank account. 

Roger stroked his chin, pulling at the loose skin around his neck. His beady eyes scanned the list and then he looked upwards, muttering to himself as if calculating something. George looked worried. Penny squeezed his hand. 

'The van?' George enquired. 'How big is-' 

'Oh don't you worry about that, ol' boy. Leave all the planning stuff to me. You've got plenty on your plate, especially with Penny guzzling that red wine like it's going out of fashion!' Roger guffawed loudly and stopped as Daphne's foot made hard contact with his shin. He rubbed his leg furiously, trying to maintain his smile whilst throwing a hurtful look at his wife. 

'Like another one, Pen?' he asked sweetly and then motioned to George to join him at the bar. 

'Well, I didn't think my drinking habits were being monitored.' Penny flushed from the base of her neck. 

'Take no notice of him. He's a fine one to talk - you know what he's like with a 'project'. Like a terrier down a rat hole.' Daphne patted her arm and drained her glass as if in support. 

'So we're a project now are we? Oh, Daphne, it's all right, we're so grateful for all your help, honest. At the moment, the red wine is the only thing that is getting me through all this.' Penny smiled. 'As George says, it's only short-term, then we can get back to our normal drinking pattern.' 

Daphne forced a little chuckle that spluttered into a cough. 

'It will be fun won't it? Going over together, Pen. Like a little adventure, crossing continents and all that stuff.'