Cherry's Dream

Cherry’s Dream
Cherry arrived for work early. She put her coat on the hook and checked her reflection in her compact mirror. Her nails were shining and manicured to perfection, with glistening Union Jack flags on each one. She combed her straight, brunette hair before applying a little lip-stick to her lips.
“Nice!” she thought.
Harvey’s nail bar was ready for business.
Cherry turned on the radio. She liked to listen to pop music while she did customers’ nails.
A girl came into the shop and asked for a manicure. Cherry sat her down and then took a seat opposite. She picked up her nail-file from the table and started work.
Twenty minutes later the girl had perfect manicured and polished nails. She was a satisfied customer. Cherry was good at polishing nails. She had come top in the class on her beauty course last year.
At lunchtime, Cherry left the shop and headed down the Mall to the supermarket. She wanted something nice for her tea when she got home. Walking down the food aisles she pondered on what to buy.
“Chicken or pork?” she said out loud. She picked a pack of chicken wings from the display cabinet. She put them back. She couldn’t decide. A man brushed by her and put some pork in his basket.
“Pork!” she cried.
The man looked up. He was startled.
“Are you okay, my dear?” he asked.
“I can’t decide between, like, chicken or pork! What do you think?”
She flicked her hair with her hand as she waited for him to say something.
“I like pork,” he said. He smiled broadly, clearly attracted to Cherry’s predicament.
“I don’t know,” Cherry said.
“Here, have both!” he replied.
Cherry giggled.
“You!” she said, tugging his arm.
Cherry and the man chatted as they walked to the checkout. He offered to pay for her meat, but she declined.
“He’s nice,” she thought, “Not bad looking too, and so kind.”
She tottered in her heels to her car and saw him get in his vehicle: a Bentley! Without a thought she rushed to his car and tapped on the window with her nails.
“Thank you, like, so much. You’re a real gent,” she purred.
He beamed a white smile against his bronzed face.
“Would you mind if I asked you for your number? We could go for a meal or something,” he said.
“No, I guess.” She looked at the ground and blushed. Then she told him her home number, but she never expected him to call.
Later that evening, at home, Cherry looked through her Jamie’s recipe book for something nice. Every picture looked good and appetising. She chose a chicken dish, got out her wok and started cooking.
The phone rang.
“Hello, I’m Michael. We met in the supermarket,” he said in soft but manly tones.
“Would you like to come out for a spot of dinner tomorrow?”
Cherry got excited. She thought for a minute.
“Yes! Yes!” she squeaked.
“Seven-thirty ok? I’ll pick you up outside the clock tower. Do you know it?” he continued. “Bye now.”
“Bye.”
Cherry put down the phone. She walked to the kitchenette and tossed the food in the hot wok.
“WOW!” she yelped. “WOW-WHEE!”
After another day in the nail bar, at seven-thirty, she waited by the clock tower. She had put on her favourite mini skirt, heels and top. She checked her make-up in her compact mirror, and felt just fine. She looked as Michael’s Bentley silently drove up and he opened the passenger door. She got in.
“Lovely!” she thought as she sat on the luxurious leather seats. Putting her hands on her knees she looked around demurely. Michael told the driver where to drive to.
“You had better tell me your name, my dear!” he said politely.
“Cherry,” Cherry answered.
“Well, Cherry, how do you like my car?”
“It’s, like, great. Like, great!” she stumbled.
“Yes it is very nice. Very comfortable,” he said.
They were driven to a restaurant that Michael said he liked.
“It’s got two Michelin stars,” he added.
Cherry wasn’t sure what this meant.
After eating and finishing some lovely wine Michael insisted they go back to his house.
“I don’t know,” she said cautiously.
But driving to his country mansion Cherry was gobsmacked!
“You like my house?” Michael asked.
Cherry was lost for words.
“It’s quite old, like me!” he continued.
Sitting next to her on a sofa he took her hand and said:” Now Cherry, I have something to ask you. You don’t know how lonely I am here, and you are so radiant. Would you do me the honour of marrying me?”
Cherry’s jaw dropped. She looked up at the painted ceiling. Pictures of classical nymphs and shepherds.
“Can you say that again? Like, what did you say just then?”
“I want to marry you, my dear. That’s all. All that I have will be shared.”
Cherry thought for a moment. She got out her compact mirror and checked her make-up. She bit one of her nails. In a fluster, she shouted: “Yes! Yes!”
He smiled and held out his hand. She took it and he formally shook it up and down. She hugged him.
“I’ve won the lottery!” she cried
He beamed his white smile.
“You certainly have!” he said. He closed his eyes and thought to himself: “At last I’ve got my trophy wife. At long last!”
Cherry purred and looked at her Union Jack nails. She was sorry she had bitten one of them. “ But it’ll grow again,” she mused. She couldn’t wait to tell her friends about Michael. Now she wouldn’t be going into work anymore, she had more important things to do. She had a lavish wedding to plan. How many guests? How many tiers on the cake? The wedding breakfast…What happy days for all concerned.