Victory Dance

Going for a Spin

My stomach was now happily overly satiated, full with rich gravies from the bacon wrapped chicken roast and the thick, sweet sauce from the sticky toffee pudding. Liz looked like she was ready to bounce off every single surface in the room from all the sugar she had just eaten, having finished Dad's pudding off for him as well as her own.

I sipped at the after dinner coffee, handing over the little packages of shortbread to Louie for his consumption. More and more it felt like he was an empty pit, desperately trying to eat as much as possible whenever possible. Mum almost despaired at how quickly he inhaled his dinner, barely lifting his head to join in with any of the polite conversation around the table. He'd even managed to wrangle leftovers from Captain Wright at some point. When Mum turned a fierce shade of pink when the Captain pushed his plate towards Louie, telling him off for his lack of manners, the Captain merely chuckled, "Growing lads are always the hungriest. Unless someone wants to through my brother in the mix. All bets are off there..."

The soldier who had followed me to get raffle tickets snorted and ranked a hand through his brown hair, pushing wisps out from his face.

"Ye know, I don' think I'll be ribbin' yer brother wit' ya. I got respect for a man payin' for my drinks," My Dad stated, completely at odds with the slight smirk on his face.

"Well, if I knew that that was all it would take, I would have shared my flask with you sooner," The Captain harrumphed, shaking his head as a waiter offered to fill up his mug, "No, thank you, dear. I don't think my heart could quite take coffee. Awful American drivel. I'll wait for the tea."

"Oh, it's awful. Keeps me up half the night when I drink one cup," Mum agreed, shaking her head in disbelief, "It totally makes sense, though."

Nancy, who grabbed her husband and dragged him over to our table as soon as dessert had been devoured, sipped her own coffee and wrinkled her nose, "What makes sense?"

"Americans," Mum replied, looking at Nancy incredulously, as though this was the only answer possible, "And why they're like the way they are. They always seem so full of beans. It's because of the coffee."

"You know they don't actually eat the coffee beans raw, right?" Mike asked after a moment's silence, spreading a fine spray of shortbread crumbs across the table.

Nancy shook her head, placing a hand on her husband's lap, "I think she's well aware of that, dear."

"I mean...she said about beans-"

"Darling. Shush."

A small titter spread around the table until Captain Wright graciously swept in to remove any chance for discomfort by declaring, "Well, if you'd all like to look over at the Greater Wright, I'm sure you would witness quite a spectacle..."

Our heads couldn't swivel fast enough towards Lord Wright, who was standing at the back of his seat, unable to make space to pull it out and sit back down now that a group had swamped around him. Except for the gentle buzz of conversation from across the room, it was hard to tell what was going on. If I could hazard a guess from the reddening of his face and neck, though, it certainly wasn't a pleasant conversation.

"It seems like his idea of getting every man a pint might have backfired," I muttered, turning back to our table.

"I highly doubt that was his idea," the soldier responded, "Lord Wright isn't very well known for readily parting with his hard earned inheritance at the best of times, never mind to supply the good folk in this room with wine and whisky. Frankly, it makes it taste that much sweeter," He smirked, taking a sip as he nodded at the Captain, who simply shook his head as he tried not to grin.