It was difficult to move down the overfilled alley. The throng of meandering tourists caused Frank a low level of claustrophobia. To avoid bumping people around him, he was obliged to follow the whims of the crowd as he pottered through the market. If he wanted to get to a stall, he had to cross the stream, apologising as he went and hoping that he wasn’t carried past on the current. But he was enjoying himself.
His wife had hit the ceiling when she heard the price of the hotel. The kerfuffle was just for show, though. He knew she liked a bit of pampering. Still, they had to go through the whole thing every year. You spent what on the hotel? You’ll beggar us. I better start selling my earrings. Needless to say, she still had all her earrings. In fact, at that moment she was so laden with bags that her purchases probably dwarfed the price of the hotel.
The crowd rumbled its chatter. His back hurt. He wanted to sit down. He’d been on his feet all morning and it was past time for a quiet cup of tea. They weren’t far from the hotel, but the first challenge would be getting out of this side-street. He leaned over to his wife, asking if they should head back.
She nodded distractedly, staring hopefully at a delicate silver bracelet hidden amongst an array of shiny tat. He made a mental note to come back and buy it for her. She’d be delighted. She’d probably threaten to sell it next time he booked a just-too-expensive hotel.
Something ahead caused them to slow almost to a standstill. The bottom of his spine ached. The crowed was beginning to seem oppressive. What was going on? What was the holdup?
Eventually, Frank and his wife reached the end of the road. The narrow street opened onto a festive square surrounded by more stalls and jammed full of people. The air smelled of perfumed soap and ripe cheese. The obstruction was a pair of women with a gargantuan pram. They clogged the flow like a clot of hair in a drain.
Frank’s frustration pumped in his ears as he inched along. A desire to shout at the women bloomed, but he suppressed it. He was proud of that. Soon, he’d be sitting in his quiet hotel room, sipping a tea and these entitled women would be forgotten.
With agonising slowness, Frank and his wife worked their way around the pram. Needing to vent, he flung up his hands and rolled his eyes.
One of the pram-women observed this, and shrilled over the sound of the crowd, “don’t roll your eyes, she’s got a baby. Have some respect.”
Embarrassment red, he dragged his wife toward the hotel. The woman’s continued bellows pursued him and he hated her, he wanted to give her real piece of his mind.
But he didn’t.
They got to the hotel and his day was ruined. He felt chastened and furious at having been told off. They were in the way. Everyone was having a worse day because of them and their huge pram. All he’d done was roll his eyes. How dare she tell him off for that, how dare she!
His wife told him to let it go. It wasn’t worth it. He should let it go. But it ruined his day. The woman had that power. He could do nothing to recover his enjoyment.