A Little Cracker
“She’s a little cracker, that one.”
Arthur nodded towards the bar and threw a lascivious wink at his life-long friend, young Bill.
The soubriquet had grown less appropriate with passing years. His father “old Bill” had gone to his reward 20 years earlier, aged 89.
Bill wiped his greasy glasses on an even greasier pocket handkerchief and followed Arthur’s gaze to a small woman, seated on a high stool, swinging her slim ankles.
“Aye, she’s a bonnie lass right enough, and you’re just a mucky old goat”
Arthur had the grace to blush.
Outside, raucous young laughter was accompanied by the sound of fireworks. It was the 5th of November and the council had organized a bonfire and display in the small park across the square.
Arthur took a long swallow of his pint of mild and looked Bill in the eye.
“Do you think she’d fancy a walk outside to watch the rockets? She looks like she’d enjoy a few fireworks.”
“Do you think you can walk that far, even if she says yes? It’s ruddy brass monkeys outside.”
“I can if she can, and though we’ve been wed nigh on forty-six years, she’s always been my little firecracker.