Brenda Monk Is Funny by Katy Brand

truth and shield of… ketamine? But enough of Jonathan, she thought, with the sense that he was unlikely to be thinking about her at this precise moment and so surely she did not owe him so much headspace. She observed Dan, dark haired and eyed with forearms covered in wiry matting that was almost black, who was squashed into a small space at the end of the bench. It was clear that he didn’t mind. He was delighted with his newfound smallness and being hemmed into such a tiny area reminded him again of his massive achievement. He must be seven stone lighter, Brenda thought, and silently congratulated him. Brenda was an unremarkable size, average in most respects, but she had been plump as a child and could remember how it felt. She was also aware that she did not make the best of herself much of the time, but her new hair was doing an awful lot of the work for her. The sea had left her soft and tangy and the dying light would have flattered a camel. She could feel Pete next to her, he was tall and broad and she felt small. There was something proprietorial about the way he sat, but she felt that must be her imagination. He was emotionally shattered, she reminded herself, and she had a boyfriend.
    A warm breeze kissed their faces as pub food was brought to them on large plates – scampi and chips for five, with wedges of lemon and a thick looking tartare sauce. Brenda couldn’t imagine being anywhere else at this precise moment, or at least, wanting to be. She noticed Pete’s hands. They looked strong, with nice, short nails and smooth tanned skin. A single leather band wrapped his wrist and she liked the hard, confident way he squeezed his lemon all over the golden scampi . Shit, she thought, she was going to have to get herself under control or she’d give herself away. Getting turned on by lemon squeezing was teenage crush territory and with Laura’s gift for stating whatever was going on in front of her, the possibility of embarrassment hovered close by. Conversation was easy and free and Brenda did not have to make too much effort. These four knew each other well and had holidayed together before. It transpired that Dan and Pete had met many years before on a mutual friend’s stag weekend to Amsterdam, and had bonded over the fact that they both preferred to get stoned than join in with the hiring of prostitutes. Pete had walked away from the prostitutes – Brenda filed this away in a small folder she had started called ‘fantasy man’ and was now enjoying the image of Pete hopelessly turned on by some incredible Eastern European beauty selling her body but refusing to do anything about it due to his unshakeable ethics.
    Walking lightly back to the cottage, Susie and Dan strode ahead bickering about some family issue. Pete, Brenda and Laura trundled behind and it seemed to Brenda that there was some force of will being exerted by herself and Pete that was preventing them stopping still and kissing each other. She could feel the buzz of electro-magnetic activity between them and had learned to listen to that rather than deny or ignore it as she had when she was younger and still unsure of her sexual pull. One of the gifts Jonathan had given her was an understanding of this pull. A realistic understanding, that is, of her effect on some men, not some arrogant delusion. But right now he seemed a long, long way away and she suddenly realised, with a shock, that she was glad of it.
    Susie and Laura went straight to bed, leaving Dan, Pete and Brenda to open a bottle and see where the night led. Pete produced a small lump of hash and began preparing a joint and Brenda settled back on the same sofa. It was large enough to accommodate both of them and leave a gap in between and so for now the certainty of physical intimacy seemed less heavy. Brenda wasn’t sure she liked it.
    ‘So, Laura said you go out with a comedian?’ Pete asked.
    ‘Yes, in a manner of speaking. He pumps me for material. Literally.’
    Pete