The Paper-Weight

                                                         

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                  

Simone turned the paperweight in her hands so better to view it from different angles, such a pretty object.  She had been told that the little florets inside were made of dozens, if not hundreds, of glass tubes, all snipped  down to a tiny size and then somehow captured within the glass weight itself.

Holding it towards the window she looked see if it would catch the light, but it was dirty!  With a sigh and a “Tut,” she wiped, and then polished it on her apron.  That was better, the sun made the florets glow and the dome itself sparkle.  Beautiful.

A loud rap at the front door shook her out of her fascination with the paperweight.  Again she sighed and, still holding the paperweight in her hand, went to open the front door.

It was a near neighbour, Mrs Hazel.  Giving Simone a perfunctory glance she pushed through the open front door and into the hall.  There she turned and addressed Simone,

“Ahh Simone, I’ve come to call on Mr Crane, is he in?”

Simone cocked her head to one side and frowned,

“Yes and no,” she replied.

Mrs Hazel’s lips became a thin line of irritation,

“For goodness sake girl, what is it?  Yes or no?”

Simone gave a shrug of her shoulders and turned to walk back to the room she had come from, followed by Mrs Hazel, who was loudly complaining that “girls in service had become impossibly sloppy and self opinionated these days, not at all like they were back in her day, when servants (and here she stressed the word) knew their place.’

Simone had heard it all before, she had long learnt to ignore this type of complaint.  She stood at the entrance to the room, a loud “Tsk!” from behind her reminded her to stand to one side to allow her ‘betters’ to enter first.

Of course Mrs Hazel screamed when she saw Mr Crane, Simone couldn’t blame her for that, he was a bit of a mess.

Between screams Mrs Hazel managed to pant out, “Wha...Wha...happened?”

“I hit him with the paper-weight”, explained Simone.

It was true, Simone had hit him over the head with the paperweight, not just once either.  She had become sick and tired of the old man sliding his arm around her waist, brushing his gnarled claw of a hand over her breasts, and this morning had been the last straw.  He had been sitting at his desk when she had brought his morning tea in,

“Simone, come look at this, is it not beautiful?”

She had placed his tea tray down on the side table and came to stand at his side the better to see what he was eager to show her.  It was the paper-weight.

“Hold it up to the light, see it glow and sparkle,” Mr Crane had said, so she did, and at that moment he had shoved his hand up her skirt and grabbed a claw full of her ample left buttock!  (Her right buttock was equally ample, but not even Mr Crane’s long claws could have managed both in one grab!)

Outraged she had brought the paper-weight down upon his upturned face.   That had released a flood gate of resentments against him, so she had continued, up and down with the paper-weight.

Mrs Hazel was screaming … again.  Only this time it wasn’t just a noise, it was words,

“Murder, murder, help, help, police, murder!!”

“Oh dear,” thought Simone, “It looks like I’m going to have to clean the paper-weight again.”