This Bulldog Bites – Excerpt 6
Greta Schmidt looked up at her and made a guttural grunt of disdain, Ivy, at this point getting a little peeved, raised her voice a little higher. At this point of the proceedings, word had gotten around the hotel about the confrontation and people were rallying in support from both contingents.
‘Madam,’ said Ivy, this time raising her voice substantially, ‘This is your second warning, will you please vacate my sun- lounger.’ Werner raised his newspaper a little higher and slide down below it.
The crowd stirred restlessly, it was obvious that something had to give. Ivy appeared to be outmatched by the formidable Greta who must have been about twice her weight. Greta once again grunted and continued to ignore Ivy.
Ivy, by now furious and totally out of control, her face red with anger, ‘Madam, your countrymen killed my husband, but I forgave that, it was war, now I’m really annoyed so you better shift you bloody ‘arris ’cause this bulldog bites’ as she finished her statement she punched Greta in the nose with all the force she could manage.
Greta’s nose split and poured with blood. A ragged cheer went up from the British contingent. Werner raised his newspaper even higher, but this time not to hide his embarrassment at his Wife’s behaviour, more to hide the fact that he was laughing like a hyena.
His Wife was screaming blue murder, and he couldn’t stop himself laughing, the tiny Englishwoman had done what he had fantasised about for years. Greta had well and truly been put in her place.
All of the German’s fled the scene, in fact they kept a very low profile for the remainder of the week. They were probably too embarrassed to show themselves, Justice can be strange … Sometimes.
(C) Damian Grange 2019