Manor of Convenience

The Party

"He's in his own room." She spun me around into the right direction and I was out of the door finally, standing in the hall.

I still felt rather disorientated when I entered the next bedroom and found George sitting on the bed, dressed from the waist-up in his finest dinner suit but in true George fashion having neglected his trousers. A grown man sitting in underwear and socks. It was a sight to behold.

"Georgie, dear, haven't you forgotten something?" I asked.

He smiled up at me as if he only just realised I was in the room.

"I've forgotten why we're having this party."

I approached him and placed my arms around his shoulders, kissing the top of his nose. "We're having this party to celebrate our marriages."

"To other people." George sighed.

I smiled sympathetically. I felt the same. I longed to share my love for George with the world and I knew Meg felt the same for Sophia. It was going to be difficult to ignore all our feelings, shut them away like old love letters in a box and never able to bring them out in front of people for fear of embarrassing them or frightening them away.

"I know, I know. But for tonight can we at least appear to be normal. And normal means wearing trousers."

"Who's not wearing trousers?" George asked before finally looking down at his hairy white legs. "Whoops. I knew I shouldn't have distracted myself by playing with the cat."

I scooped up George's little ginger cat into my arms but it hissed. It always hissed! "Come on Bartholomew the Second, time for you to vacate and let your owner change."

"He's Bartholomew the Third!"

"Really? What happened to the second?"

"I think you know." He sneered and then I remembered. How could I have forgotten? It was last summer and it was my new car which had resulted in his new cat. I smiled apologetically and then shoved the newer cat out of the door.

"Oh darling, your trousers, put them on."

He then got up, hobbling with the pain from his war injury, unable to stand properly, and stood in front of the mirror, still trouser-less and instead staring hopelessly at his reflection as he leaned on my arm for support. "How old I look."

I placed my arms around his waist and nestled my head under his chin. "You look forever young to me."

He smiled, still not wearing trousers, still standing with bare legs, socks and suspenders, still the most precious little creature in all of existence. He leaned on my arm as we admired ourselves in the mirror.

"I suppose I shall have to be romantic with Meg for the guests," he said.

"Of course you will, she's your wife!"

"She scares me. Don't get me wrong, your cousin is a peach but I'm not used to having a lady wife."

"You'll get used to it. It's only been a month."

"You already seem to be the professional. When Meg and I go to kiss, our heads collide and we look at each other as though we were long lost siblings. When you kiss Sophia, you look like you've been interested in girls since you were twelve."

"It's an act, darling. I'm a better actor than you. Besides aren't all men a little afraid of their wives?"

"Are they positively afraid of them?"

"Don't be silly. Meg's a kitten really, and you know how you love cats. And she's also so much of a tomboy and we know you love boys, so what's the problem?"