Olivia Twist – a random piece of flash fiction
It’s not every day my uncle gets married. Although, today is wedding number seven.
They’ve nicknamed him Zsa Zsa at the retirement home. The cheeky beggar even asked to change the vows.Can you imagine? ‘Do you Zsa Zsa take this woman?’
Nancy put her foot down, though. She’s a good soul is Nance. Salt of the earth. Just what Uncle needs. He’s a right one with the ladies. A bit too fond of a shapely ankle. But lovable nonetheless.
‘Sorry, Officer, you were saying?’
Uncle snorts. I haven’t been called ‘Miss’ in a long time.
‘Sorry, Officer. Carry on.’
The policeman clears his throat and glares at Uncle. ‘Well, there was a ruckus this afternoon. Setting off the alarms in Debenhams, Miss.’
‘Oh, no! Uncle, have you been shoplifting again?’
He doesn’t even try to deny it. Just stands in front of me, arms outstretched, dressed head to toe in Armani. ‘Ta dah! You gotta admit, Liv, I look good, don’t I?’
He does too and it takes all I have not to return his impish grin.
‘Not keeping it, mind. Just for me wedding. My lady likes a good label.’
The officer fidgets – I sense he’s amused – then, stony-faced, adds ‘It’s not a library, Mr. Fagin. Store policy is to prosecute. Always.’
‘Sorry, officer,’ I interrupt, the wall clock behind him counting down each minute. ‘But we have a wedding to attend.’
I shove the policeman out of the way, ‘Run, Uncle Fagin, run!’