Miss Wrong and Mr Right by Bryndza Robert

Author:Bryndza, Robert [Bryndza, Robert]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub, azw3
Tags: Humour, british comedy authors, Satire, love sex and marriage, romatic comedy, British humour, Love Stories
Publisher: Team Bryndza Books
Published: 2015-05-04T07:00:00+00:00

The farm

We drove into Sowerton village around midday. The thatched cottages looked idyllic with their neatly mown lawns and gardens full of wild flowers. As we rounded the corner to the green, the Ramblers Rest pub came into view. A group of walkers sat outside, enjoying a drink in the sun. I had a sinking feeling, returning home. It always feels like I regress and I stop being the person I have worked so hard to become over the past few years. I go back to being the girl with the frizzy hair who is always being told off by her mother, the stupid girl who failed her exams and left her fiancé at the altar. I looked in the rear view mirror at Gran, she didn’t seem happy to be back either.

Ryan opened his window, and the smell hit us.

‘Wow. What’s that?’ he asked screwing up his face.

‘Ten kinds of shit,’ said Gran. ‘Get used to it, it’s relentless.’

I reached the gate to the farmhouse, and saw Dad had propped it open. The car churned and lurched slowly up the driveway through the mud, and I came to a stop alongside the house where the drive rose up to a grassy slope. Ryan was peering out of the window as if he had landed on the moon.

‘What’s that?’ he asked, pointing in awe at a furry creature with long legs and a long neck standing in the field at the end of the garden.

‘That’s Rihanna,’ I said.

‘What?’

‘She’s my Dad’s llama. My nieces and nephews named her,’ I explained.

‘Wow! I’ve never seen a llama before!’ he said excitedly. We all got out of the car and Ryan sped off down the garden. I looked back at Gran who had a lace handkerchief pressed to her mouth and nose.

‘Jesus, I’m back in shit city… I hate it here,’ she said. She motioned to me to follow Ryan, and I caught up with him by the wooden fence. Rihanna had come to peer at the handsome man in the suit. The sun glinted off his dark hair, and his mouth spread into a smile showing perfect teeth.

‘Do you want a photo with her?’ I asked, thinking of Sharon’s calendar request for January.

‘Cool,’ said Ryan. Rihanna moved towards him on her spindly legs, jutting her bottom teeth out and gurning. Please don’t spit, I suddenly thought. Llamas will often spit if they are scared or provoked, and it’s a revolting lump of green gunk which stinks. Rihanna snorted and pushed her head against Ryan. He gently reached out, and his hand disappeared into her coarse fur coat.

‘Hey Rihanna, aren’t you pretty?’ said Ryan. She stared down through giant eyes with huge curling eyelashes. I took a photo of them, then I reached up and stroked her too. She gave a snort and opened her mouth showing a leathery tongue.

‘They’re like those creatures in Star Wars, the ones they ride in the desert. Could I ride her?’ asked Ryan.

‘They’re not crazy about being ridden,’ I said.

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