The Missing Links
Colonial Dentistry
“I’ll do it myself.”
ravenously across the table but she
drew back her hands like a snake
would its tongue after depositing the venom.
The customary tut followed. He was used to her tutting
but since her last visit to the dentist, her tuts had a
clackity ring to them. There wouldn’t be time to get used
to the change. He watched as a clumsy hand gripped and
regripped the finicky clasp, a perceptible shake evident in
her hands. They were unused to this new position at the
back of her neck and it didn’t help that he’d shortened
the chain; another link removed. He had her now and he
knew it. She didn’t yet, but she would.
“Now, now, Henry. I’m thirsty.” Hoarse by now, she
craved a drink. The waiter had vanished.
Henry sat back in his seat, a little chastened but prepared
to wait it out. It was just then that he noticed the pearls.
The shiny dots of perfection enhanced an ageing
neckline. She was such a lady. He began to reply before
a large trumpeting voice from behind them drowned out
his words.
It took until just after the third attempt before he was
summoned into action once more. Mini mountain ranges
of wrinkles protruded and rivers of veins bulged as the
chain squeezed tight. With a delicate knowing catch and
release, he let go of the flawless pearls and there they
hung around her neck, an ornate, sparkling Andromeda.
Her eye caught his. The thinnest of smiles reached her
mouth but her eyes were dull and opaque.
“Whadya mean people should have a choice? There’s too
much damn democracy in this state if you ask me!”
Henry turned back again to address his date, who had
started to cough. A whimper and then a splutter. A gasp
and then a couple more. He hastily mimed the drinking
sign to the waiter and then stopped with a gasp. Angela
stared across at him, with a glaring intent, like a light had
come on behind her eyes.
“Will you manage tonight?” Without me, she might have
said.
“Sure I will, Angela.”
“Angela. Your face! It’s beetroot red! You’re posi ѥٕ