Reward for hard work is coming back the next day and doing it again.

Be a Pineapple: Stand tall, wear a crown and be sweet on the inside

Katherine Gaskin


Working on a Saturday seemed like two days rolled into one. Dull people talking about dull things. Then at the end we were supposed to feel energised. On a Weekend. I was in real danger of catching ‘dull’.

We were sending texts all day. I’d even sneak to the loo to carry on. They must’ve thought I was incontinent.

We were talking mainly about the holiday, but I got the chance to drop in about moving in together. Rather than ignore it, Victoria suggested I contact some estate agents next week. It seemed the holiday had worked.

I rang her when I was on the train in the evening.

“Hey. How you doing?”

“I’ve got a great tan.”

“I know sweetheart. What have you been up to?”



“You weren’t here to stop me. It’s your fault.”


“So you should be. I spent money I don’t have. What time will you be back?”

“Not until around ten. What are you doing tonight?”

“Nothing. I’m tired. Are you OK for breakfast tomorrow?”

“Of course. Nine o’clock?”

“Please can you get me a cream cheese bagel?”

“And a tea?”

“Thank you.”

“See you in the morning.”

“Love you.”

“Love you more.”

I was up really early. I walked along the beach for a while. It was surprisingly warm and still. There were people running, some walking dogs. I didn’t want to ring her too early or she would be in a mood for the rest of the day, so I waited until just before nine and wandered up to the cafe.

The guy who owned the place was sat reading the paper. “Hey, how was your holiday?”

“Great. She’ll be along in a minute. She’s really proud of her tan.”

“The usual?”

“Please. Thanks.” We chatted about the holiday.

“If he’s told you that I got drunk and tried to play canasta in the dark, it’s not true.” Victoria walked in wearing jeans and a T-shirt. Her hair smelt of coconut. It was a smell I loved and I didn’t even like the stuff.

“How are you?”


“No surprise there.”

“At least I’m tired and brown.”

We sat in comfy chairs and the tea was brought over.

We just chatted about stuff. I kissed her cheek. “I’m glad we’re OK.”

She squeezed my hand and looked me in the eyes.

“Me too.” She got up. “I’m actually so pleased, I will let you go shopping with me.”

“Thank you. If I didn’t love you so much I would probably dump you.”

“But then you wouldn’t be able to buy me something new and I wouldn’t let you climb aboard the love train.”

We wandered round the shops and by the time we’d finished, there were more bags.

“Thank you.” She kissed me. “You didn’t have to.”

“Yes I did.” I hugged her. “But I wanted to.”

“And I wanted you to.” We walked back to the flat. “Come in. Stay for lunch.”

“Well, I’m not…”

“Please.” She looked at me with big sad eyes. It was the look she knew would always work and this time was no exception.


She clapped. “Yay.”

She made Spaghetti Bolognese. It smelt wonderful and filled the kitchen. We ate and just talked. Not about very much. What we would do the following weekend, her busy week coming up at work. Victoria lay on the sofa, I washed up and spooned watching some dreadful film about dancers in Serbia.

About five, when she was dozing in the chair, I kissed her lightly on the cheek. “Ring me later.” I pulled the blanket up around her. “I love you.”

She smiled. “I love you more.” It was a tiny, half asleep voice.





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