Bad Bridesmaid. Portia MacIntosh
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‘Are you sure?’ I ask. ‘Because your mum will like me even less if you die.’
Both Josh and Max simultaneously talk me through their swimming achievements to date.
‘OK then, but only if you stay in the shallow end. I’ll be sat right here so I’ll notice if you wander into the deep end,’ I warn them.
‘Can you get us our swimming trunks?’ Josh asks.
Not only do I not fancy rooting through other people’s things to find swimwear for the boys, but that sounds like it will take a long time and I’m worried today will be my last chance to get some proper work done.
‘You wear underwear, right?’
Josh and Max nod.
‘Well, you’re sorted. Go, have fun.’
The boys look at each other for a moment, unsure of whether or not I have the authority to let them go swimming in their underpants. They don’t think it over for too long before running towards the pool, screaming with delight before dive bombing into the beautiful blue water.
I only get to feel like the world’s coolest babysitter for a moment before I realise that it is proving almost impossible to concentrate on my work with Josh and Max screaming and splashing each other. I can’t exactly go and work in another room, not after the jokes I made about drowning them in the sea. Whether it’s the sea or a swimming pool, if I kill these kids my sister will almost certainly have another reason to blame me for ruining her wedding – and I can’t have that.
‘Hey guys, do you want to watch a movie?’ I ask.
‘We’ve seen all the kids’ movies they have here,’ Max calls back.
‘What about if I let you watch a grown-up movie?’
The boys both cheer with excitement as they climb out of the pool.
‘Come on, this way.’ I toss them each a towel and head for the play room.
‘Right, let’s see,’ I say to myself as I examine the top shelf of the cupboard where the DVDs are kept. They actually have quite a good selection – I’m a total film buff and even I’m impressed. I quickly run my finger past any movie that I was involved in writing or any others of a similar genre, I don’t want to fill their young, impressionable minds with any romantic junk. ‘Pulp Fiction,’ I squeak with delight. ‘Have you seen it?’
The boys shake their heads, it’s like they haven’t even heard of it.
‘What? You haven’t seen Pulp Fiction?’ I ask in disbelief, putting to the back of my mind the fact that the boys are ten years old. ‘It’s a masterpiece.’
Maybe it’s because I take my love of movies very seriously, maybe it’s because I’m a devout Quentin Tarantino fan or maybe it’s because I just want to go against my auntie’s wishes, but I decide that this is the movie the boys should watch.
‘Just don’t tell your parents, OK?’
They nod eagerly.
I pop the DVD in the machine and sit myself down on the sofa with Josh and Max. I’ll stick around for a few minutes, just to make sure they’re enjoying it, and then I’ll head back into the pool room and do my work.
As the opening scene in the diner plays out, Josh and Max’s eyes are glued to the big screen. Ah, that look of wonder, that mesmerised stare – I remember when I watched my first Tarantino movie, they’re going to love it.
“I love you, Pumpkin.”
“I love you, Honey Bunny.”
‘Well, I’m going to leave you guys to enjoy this,’ I say as I head for the door, but it falls on deaf ears.
I grab a couple of beanbags, one to hold the door to the games room open and one to do the same with the door to the pool, that way I’ll be able to hear them if they need me. As I put the second beanbag in place, I overhear the line: “Any of you fucking pricks move and I’ll execute every one of you motherfuckers! Got that?” For a moment it occurs to me that maybe this isn’t the best film to put on for a couple of kids whose parents have sheltered them from bad language and inappropriate behaviour their entire lives, but that’s exactly the reason they should see it. This movie is a work of art, everyone needs to see it… although probably not when they’re ten years old. Well, Josh and Max are clearly enjoying it and that leaves me to get on with some work. What’s the worst that can happen?
***
Perhaps it has something to do with the water – the way it reflects on the walls and the gentle sounds it makes as it laps against the sides of the pool when there aren’t any noisy children splashing around in it – or the fact that jetlag is still screwing with me a little, but it wasn’t long after I sat back down by the pool when I fell asleep. So much for getting some work done before the adults get back… oh my God, the kids!
I jump up from my seat and dash into the games room, only to find Josh and Max exactly as I left them, their eyes still glued to the screen as Samuel L. Jackson finishes delivering that epic speech from the final scene of the movie.
“And you will know I am the Lord when I lay my vengeance upon you.”
The boys, who are not even aware I have re-entered the room, both blink at the screen, their facial expressions giving nothing away. I wonder if they have even spoken to one another during the film.
‘So, what do you think?’ I ask them as the credits roll.
‘That was so cool,’ Josh enthuses.
‘I didn’t want it to end,’ Max adds.
‘Well, there’s plenty more where that came from,’ I tell them, proud to have introduced them to a cinematic genius. ‘Just don’t tell your parents.’
‘When can we watch another?’ Josh asks excitedly. ‘Do you think you can make everyone go out again tomorrow? What are we watching next?’
‘Hold your horses,’ I chuckle. ‘I’ll do my best.’
Right on cue I hear the sound of footsteps on the stairs. I quickly remove Pulp Fiction from the DVD player and put it back on the shelf, just as Auntie June walks in.
‘Did everyone behave?’ she asks, not wasting a second on pleasantries.
‘Of course,’ I reply. ‘They’re little angels.’
‘I was talking to them,’ my auntie informs me.
I roll my eyes at my auntie as Tarantino’s two newest fans nod their heads.
I grab a bottle of water from the mini fridge and take a swig, safe in the knowledge I have passed myself off as a capable babysitter.
‘Wait a second,’ my auntie starts, puzzled. ‘Why are you two in your underpants?’
Caught off guard, I spray the big gulp of water I had taken out of my mouth. I cough and splutter for a moment (much to the amusement of Josh and Max) before trying to explain.
‘It’s not what it looks like,’ I start, but my auntie cuts me off.
‘What does it look like?’
I hesitate for a moment.
‘I don’t know, but the boys wanted to swim and I didn’t think you’d appreciate me going in your room to find shorts.’
My auntie looks at the boys for confirmation and they dutifully nod. I think my auntie is picking up on the fact that we are all behaving very shiftily, but that’s only because I let the boys watch a movie with an ‘eighteen’ rating, not because I held an impromptu orgy and decided my ten-year-old cousin and his mate could attend if they adhered to the dress code.
Auntie June sniffs her son suspiciously.
‘You two, go and shower,’