Enter Mrs Macbeth

(with sincere apologies to William Shakespeare)

Enter Mrs Macbeth, reading a letter sent from a small hotel near Hastings where her husband’s company has been holding its annual management conference.

“So what has his Lordship got to tell me? Hm! The catering sounds a bit odd. Three old ladies in the canteen serving newts’ eyes, frogs’ toes and lizards’ legs? Who ran their catering college, Heston Blumenthal?

What’s this he says? “They reckon I should be running the company rather than Duncan King”. What do they know? Macbeth couldn’t run a bath, let alone a company. Useless load of …

On the other hand, I’ll bet Dunc the Hunk is turning over a few bob more than my feller. I wouldn’t mind being the boss’s wife – think of that big house we could buy, posh car, ocean cruise every year. Maybe those old crones in the canteen are on to something.

What’s this? He also says that as soon as dinner was over Duncan offered him a promotion! That’s fantastic. You’re on the way up, Bethy my lad!

Yes – but it’s not the top job is it? That’s what we really want. I wonder how we can get it?

Oh my God! I’ve just read the end bit of this letter – he’s only gone and invited Duncan King to spend the weekend with us! One little promotion and he reckons he’s got to push the boat out and be the ever-generous host! You might at least have given me a bit more warning, you dipstick! We’ve got no food in the house - even a pint of milk would be a kindness – certainly none of that nouvelle cuisine they serve by the cauldron at that hotel of theirs.

Just a second – when did he write this? Tuesday - and today’s Friday! He sent it by second class post – what a wally! They’ll be turning up any minute now and I’ll have to be the dutiful wife putting on a show and pretending that everything’s just hunky-dory. Why the hell couldn’t he have sent me a text instead of a letter? He’s got no more sense than one of those frog’s toes he seems to be so fond of.

Okay, Bethy my mate. I’ll put on a show for you all right. Dunc the Hunk is certainly that, and he might find his welcome to be a lot warmer than he was expecting. Suppose I give him the benefit of my night-time attention and persuade my lovely husband that his time is up and he’d better pack his bags? I end up as the boss’s wife after all, so who cares who the boss is?

Maybe writing that letter was the best thing Bethy ever did – from my point of view, that is.

Yet who would have thought my old man to have had so much crap in him?”

© John Welford