Sour Grapes

SOUR GRAPES

Sally sat at the kitchen table trying to convince herself the lunch she was about to eat was mouth-watering and satisfying. She knew a crash diet of twelve hours would not help her shed the weight she needed to lose in order to squeeze into her favourite little black number. But the eternal optimist within hoped by some miracle a lunch of cottage cheese on rye and a dozen grapes would ensure she'd have a sylph-like figure by evening. Too late, she knew in reality; Sally was always late for everything.

She picked up the grapes, thinking how amazing it was these innocent little fruits could produce something as potent as the wine that had caused her misdemeanour three months ago. Was it only three months? It seemed a lifetime ago now. Audrey’s party. She’d been late of course. Unable to persuade the little black number to fasten she had spent a frantic hour trying to find an alternative suitable garment. “And my diet starts tomorrow,” she had promised herself, disgusted yet again at her lack of effort.

“Bye, I’m off then, won’t be late,” she’d shouted to her husband as she fled through the front door.

“Okay, see you later. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” he’d called back. “And don’t drink too much; you know what you’re like after a couple of glasses of wine.”

She felt the colour rush to her cheeks at the memory of that evening. She’d been nervous; had downed the first few glasses far too quickly. She was even more unnerved by the tall, dark stranger standing by the window and was only too aware of the invitation she saw in those come-to-bed eyes. By the time he approached her and refilled her glass she was spellbound. The latter part of the night was a hazy surreal memory, but real enough to remember why she was so late home.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” her husband had said. She knew, under no circumstances, would he ever have acted as she had done. He hadn’t complained about her being late, or her inebriated state, but had just smiled as he tucked her up in bed. How could she have done such a thing? Too late now.

Sally returned to planet earth as she swallowed the last grape. She had better go and find out if the black number was off the menu for tonight’s dinner party.

Struggling and cursing, Sally had to admit defeat. There was no way that zip was going to make the hazardous journey over her swollen abdomen.

“Must be the time of the month,” she explained to her frowning reflection. But then her eyes widened in horror as she realised something else was late. Very late. Three months late to be exact.


Six months later Sally held her new born twin daughters for the first time. They were beautiful; olive skinned with thick, dark hair. Nothing like her two young sons, but that was understandable; to Sally at least. So besotted by these perfect little angels she was able to put aside her guilt and just hoped no one would ever find out the truth.

“I’m just so lucky,” her husband sighed, gazing with awe at the babies. “I always wanted my own little girl. I can’t believe I have two. You know, they remind me of my mother already. Nothing like me though, but that’s not a bad thing.”
Sally beamed up at her husband in silent agreement.

“I’ll be along tomorrow after work. Bring the boys to meet their new sisters. Would you like me to bring you anything? Some grapes perhaps?”

Sally had to smile. “Yes, good idea, love. I’ll be watching my diet again now. Must lose some weight before Christmas.” Maybe she’d get into that little black number by then.

“Oh, that reminds me. Audrey rang to say she’s having another of her parties. I told her we’d get a babysitter and I’d come with you this time. Don’t want you coming back in the same state as last year do we? But I don’t suppose you remember much about it do you?”

“Well, just a couple of little things,” Sally replied gazing yet again at her beautiful baby girls.