Woman Overboard

No amount of tutting or searing glares could have taught Evelyn a better lesson

- SHERRI TURNER

EVELYN tutted. Then she tutted again, louder this time. At the third tut the woman in the floaty dress and pashmina turned round. Evelyn looked down to her lap, as though she hadn’t tutted at all.

Roger sighed. Why did she always do that? Either she wanted people to know they were annoying her or she didn’t. He just couldn’t work her out sometimes, more so lately. “She’s not the only one, you know,” Evelyn said.

“Not the only one what, dear?” Roger asked.

“The only one who wants to see the view. She’s got a seat, after all, so why doesn’t she sit in it, instead of standing at the rail and getting in everyone’s way?

And the way she waves that silly wrap­ around, like a flag or something. It’s not her own personal yacht, is it? She’s not a model or anything. She’s no better than the rest of us and we’ve all come on this boat trip for the same reason, haven’t we? To enjoy the view and A BIT OF PEACE AND QUIET.”

The increased volume of the final phrase caused Roger to follow the direc­ tion of her searing gaze to a young man with an iPod, his tanned skin clearly visible through the numerous rips in his jeans.

“What is the point of earphones if everyone else can hear the racket too?” Evelyn asked.

“He’s young,” Roger said. “He’s enjoying himself. Think what ours were like.”

“They weren’t like that,” Evelyn said.

“They were brought up properly. And he’s old enough to have learnt some respect. It’s a rather gaudy frock, don’t you think, for someone of that age?”