Archie the Royal Hot Water Bottle Read online

Archie the Royal Hot Water Bottle

  Suzie Louis

  Copyright 2012 Suzie Louis

  Cover image: Detail Baroque Gallery, Schaezlerpalais, Augsburg

  Cover Design: Suzie Louis

  and all good ebook retailers:

  Novels

  Deepwater

  The Litigation Junkie

  A Mere Pawn, Archie the Royal Hot Water Bottle Book 2

  Juliet in Love

  Non-Fiction

  How to Set Up & Run Markets, Fairs & Fetes

  Short stories

  How I Became a Bestseller

  Mimosa, Big Mamma of the Caterpillar Throne

  is Publishing Success Inspiration? Perspiration?

  Licence Notes

  Thank you for downloading this ebook. This book remains the copyrighted property of the author, and may not be redistributed to others for commercial or non-commercial purposes. If you enjoyed this book, please encourage your friends to download their own copy from their favorite authorized retailer. Thank you for your support.

  Chapter 1

  Archie's life began, as did those many others, as the product of the inventive mind of Slavoljub Eduard Penkala, a Slovakian born engineer who patented his design in a far off factory, full of rubber and additives where his newly minted, pristine rubber body rolled off the conveyor belt, naked, into cool, crinkly plastic packaging and through various means involving ships, suspicious customs officials and lorries, arrived in a retail pharmacy in a cold climate where, bar coded and priced like a mere commodity, he sat, looking his very best, waiting for his useful life to begin.

  He did not wait in vain. Soon, a slim white gloved hand gently took him up and examined his well crafted design: smooth rounded shoulders: a well proportioned neck with a snug fitting rubber and metal stopper and his greatest feature, his blue ribbed surface that was, contrary to the perceptions of the ill informed, smooth to the touch and owing to his recent birth, as unblemished as a baby's bum.

  Like a ripe melon ready to be gathered from the vine, Archie was chosen. His buyer, a discerning person who instantly recognised all Archie's many qualities said,

  'You'll do,' and took him to the checkout.

  He went with her willingly, joy in his heart and expectation at his life of adventure and service ahead, admittedly transported in a rather unfortunate flower-bedecked basket and still naked, but appreciated at last.

  As the woman carried him home Archie had time to look about him. Admittedly his view was restricted to the other contents of the basket and the rather cold, gloomy grey sky above him but Archie, at least initially, found it all fascinating. Ignoring the gloom which foreshadowed imminent use and only reinforced the knowledge of his purpose in life, which was to serve and provide warmth and comfort, and soon, judging by the outside temperature, he took in his travelling companions.

  A well used black leather zippered purse lay across him where the woman had dropped it after paying for him at the checkout. Zip, click, thud, it had landed upon him and lay at an odd angle with a suffering look upon its face. Archie, ever a sharing character didn't mind, 'room for all,' he thought.

  To his surprise, the purse was silent, its eyes tightly closed as they bounced along. Archie was loath to disturb the purse as a slight greenness had appeared at its edges and frown lines upon its face. As Archie later learnt from other items in the household, the purse suffered with motion sickness and spoke to no-one on its journeys to the shops.

  'What an unfortunate complaint for such a mobile item,' was Archie's summation.  Whilst disappointed that the purse was not to be a fount of knowledge about his new home, Archie sympathised with its condition and refrained from any attempt at conversation. He looked away, leaving the purse, which was, worryingly opening its mouth, beginning to heave a little in the middle and about to spill its contents, to itself.

  A small, soft brown paper parcel tied with string that had been lying in the bottom of the basket when Archie arrived, jostled for space with a white sliced loaf that was holding itself aloof in an attempt to prevent crushing of its insubstantial shape by the purse and Archie.

  'It's mostly air,' thought Archie, 'rather a cheap brand as well.' Despite its recent purchase the loaf lacked something. 'Oh yes,' thought Archie, 'aroma.' The white bread was however twittering away like a bird about its excitement at being purchased and taken out into the wide, wide world.

  'Oh dear,' Archie thought, 'they eat bread, don't they'?

  With this worrying thought Archie, trying to maintain his enjoyment and not have it dampened by the life expectancy of others, turned to the small brown paper parcel which, and Archie couldn't quite believe it, looked him over with an appraising eye.

  'Hello,' he said to the parcel.

  'Hello yourself,' said the parcel with a smile, 'I'm Terri.'

  'It's nice to meet you Terri, what's inside your parcel'?

  The parcel rolled its eyes, giving off an air of superiority and some exasperation. Archie couldn't understand its reaction. His had been a perfectly rational question given he couldn't see the parcel's contents. It had no smell, bulges or protrusions, nothing to indicate what its contents were. Anyway, wasn't enquiring into the nature of things an accepted conversation opener? Archie felt a small rebuff, a slight dampening of his mood.

  In an irritated voice that Archie found unnecessarily harsh, the parcel shot at him, 'Terri? Terry towelling? Half a yard she bought.'

  A light went on for Archie, a brilliant shining light that shone and gleamed in his imagination. Even great explorers discovering new continents knew no greater joy than Archie at that moment.

  What struck him most strongly was the forethought, the planning, the consideration of the woman. Terry towelling. Archie was in heaven. He had come to the right home. A look of complete contentment came over him and he closed his eyes, considering essential factors such as fabric weight, its possible Egyptian cotton component, the softness. He came back to reality with a jolt as the parcel said,

  'Don't get all excited, she picked me up in the remnant bin, cheap.'

  Clothing his embarrassing nakedness concerned Archie but he put it aside. No owner of any worth would leave him in such a state. Archie was sure of that but apparently there was to be no glorious cover for him, just a cheap terry towelling job of doubtful quality.

  As his journey progressed Archie's optimism remained. Despite his experience in the shopping basket, which ultimately included a distasteful and smelly spill by the purse all over him  (stale and mashed toffees, dirty coins of the realm and a used tissue), Archie arrived at the gates of his new home with his innocence only slightly dented.

  Gates? Archie saw them above him as his new owner trotted past their wrought iron magnificence into a large courtyard.

  'Where am I?' he wondered. He must have spoken his confusion rather than thinking it for the basket, which had until that time been silent, spoke in unexpectedly husky tones, developed over too many years of being the receptacle for empty whiskey (only the Irish would do) bottles, secretly carried out and disposed of by one of the woman's disreputable servants in street bins.

  Drops of whiskey remaining after the bottles' concentrated draining by the servant's husband, had spilled into the basket's lining, intoxicating it on a regular basis until it had lowered the basket's formerly tenor voice to a husky baritone.

  The basket didn't mind, finding the newer voice sexy and effective in seducing the purse to a bit of slap and tickle but to the basket's frustration, only after the purse had recovered from its frequent bouts of motion sickness.

  At the sound of the basket's voice the purse gave a loud burp but made no further movement,

  '
The palace of course,' the basket said.

  Stunned is the only way to describe Archie's reception of this news. It silenced and awed him. The trotting and swaying of the basket, which had so upset the purse's equilibrium, slowed and stopped. A large door opened and the woman passed into a long corridor, brightly lit with naked fluorescent fittings, their aluminium frames naked to the world.

  Archie shuddered. He'd had the same experience at the factory, which although it had been his birthplace and was special to his memory, it was nevertheless a noisy, brutal environment of concrete, steel, grimy frosted glass and naked fluorescent fittings which Archie had suffered under as he'd moved along the conveyor belt. The lights had been unrelenting, penetrating, forcing his newly created, tender eyes to squint and ache from their harsh and burning glare.

  Any repetition of that dreadful experience would lower Archie's spirits greatly but the harsh light diminished as the woman entered a softly lit but rather cramped elevator which ascended smoothly to a higher floor. The doors opened and as the woman stepped out Archie saw a gilded ceiling, light streaming in through tall Georgian windows and heard the woman's shoes, which until then had planted themselves on the pavement outside and the floor of the corridor below with a regular, and, he regretted the thought as soon as it came to mind, unpleasant thud, were now tapping along smooth parquet.

  The woman's steps went on an on, the light from the windows casting bright shadows on the ceiling which was so far above that Archie, who's eyesight was not good, could not distinguish its detail. At last the woman stopped and handed the basket to a boy wearing a very smart jacket,

  'Here Jennings, take this to my room. I'll be up in a moment.'

  'Yes, Ma'am.'

  Archie saw the woman enter an open door and heard it close behind her. The boy carried the basket upstairs and deposited it on a chair inside a modestly sized sitting room, where it remained for some time, undisturbed. After a short period Archie heard snoring as various items in the basket and the basket itself took the opportunity to sleep. Even the bread had exhausted itself, closed its eyes and gave little whistles and grunts as it settled down to slumber.

  Archie couldn't sleep, he was too excited so he watched and waited.

  Archie's wait in the basket wasn't long. Soon the door to the room opened and he heard the woman's voice again,

  'We'll have tea in half an hour, take the bread. That wholegrain rubbish they gave us yesterday stuck in my teeth. And make sure they remove the crusts. The cook can try out his new ideas on the staff, not on me.'

  'Yes Ma'am.'

  Archie watched in horror as the white sliced loaf was lifted from the basket by a young male and seemingly trembling, hand and, oblivious to its fate, woke as the boy carried it out the door. Archie could hear it twittering as the door closed,

  'Well, who are you then'? But the door closed and the only sound in the room was the woman shuffling papers on a small desk and then the telephone began to ring.

  'Yes'? she said, 'Put him through.' A pause. 'Hello dear, how are you'? Silence. 'No, we won't be doing that.' Silence with some teeth grinding. 'No, no, we don't do that. I don't care if it's the modern approach.' Her voice was taking on an icy quality. 'That's ridiculous, all that money for nothing. Utter waste.'

  The sound of a key in a lock. 'I'm very busy at the moment dear, with my boxes, perhaps you could speak to me about this at another time.' The telephone was replaced in its cradle with a solid thwack.

  'Silly boy,' the woman said.

  The door opened yet again.

  'What a busy place,' Archie thought. 'Rather like a railway station but without the trains.'

  In his travels Archie had heard about trains and longed to see a steam engine. He'd heard accounts from other hot water bottles that were on their way to China and Russia where steam engines still proliferated.

  'They're living things,' they'd said with glazed eyes. His thoughts were interrupted by the woman's voice which had become rather querulous and short.

  'Ah, there you are. I've bought a new hot water bottle for my granddaughter.'

  Archie would have leapt in the air at hearing himself spoken of but he was still pinned down by the purse.

  'And some towelling for a cover. Take it upstairs to have it run up will you? She's off on her travels soon. You can't count on the heating everywhere, she'll need it.'

  Archie was struck by this news even as a hand reached into the basket and, recoiling from the mess made by the purse and its contents, lifted him and the brown paper parcel out and carried them away. The journey was a delight to Archie as he, calming himself, contemplated the news that he was to be given to a young person who was soon to travel and he was at last, at last! to have his nakedness remedied by a hot water bottle cover. Oh, he was thrilled; there was so much to look forward to.

  Of course he began to speculate on the possibilities of the cover. The quality and cut were so important. For a hot water bottle to look the part, the cover had to fit snugly but not cling, have a neat, secure closing and...Archie's self-interested and excited speculation as to the cut and fit of the hot water bottle cover to be created to clothe his embarrassing nakedness was interrupted by a young girl's decidedly Cockney voice that raved, yes raved, he thought, as she carried him and the brown paper parcel up flights of narrower stairs and along more corridors,

  'Bloody old woman, bosses everyone about. Do this, do that. Bloody sick of it. Weeks of 'come here,' 'go away,' 'get this,' 'get me that,' 'how much did this cost'? I've had it. Sick to bloody death. She pinches pennies like nothing I've ever seen and then puts on a King's ransom in jewels just to go down to lunch. Yesterday it was that diamond brooch that looks like a boulder.

  'The day before yesterday she put on that pink diamond thing. Huge it is and I know about pink diamonds, rare, from Africa and Australia and places like that. Worth bloody millions and she sticks it on an old dress she's worn a hundred times and wears it to lunch with the old bloke. Unbelievable. And, look at this bloody hot water bottle, cheap, cheap, cheap. And god knows what the towelling'll be like.'

  Archie couldn't believe his ears. Cheap? Him? He was nothing of the sort. His manufacture had been of the finest. He was a hot water bottle to treasure; a friend made to last a lifetime. He knew for instance that when he was filled with the contents of a steaming kettle, oh the bliss of that hot, comforting water entering his body, he wouldn't smell like some inferior model of hot water bottle made in a factory in somewhere indescribable out of heaven knows what. He was quality, pure rubber. This young person was entirely wrong.

  Archie craned his neck to get a better look at his judge. A mop of thick cropped, not very clean hair, stuck up from her head in a number of colours, a purple streak stood next to a magenta one with glowing white rings around the ears, heavily sprayed with a most pungent preparation.

  'Most peculiar,' he thought, 'and not at all flattering with her rather doughy features. Obviously she eats too many chips; there's too much saturated fat in her diet'.

  As a result, Archie observed, her white skin had a greasy consistency that sweated slightly around the jowls. As he took in the girl's damp jowls, he saw multiple piercings in her ears with studs and rings attached.

  'Too much time in metal work at school,' Archie decided peering closer, 'The fittings do have a homemade quality. She looks like one of those punks.'

  What was most startling was the girl's clothing which was at odds with her hair and numerous metal fittings; her attire consisted of a smart fitted skirt, crisp white shirt and buttoned waistcoat. She also wore clean, polished black shoes and sheer black tights.

  By this time Terri was wriggling inside the brown paper parcel. Archie could feel her increasingly agitated movements as she shouted in Archie's ear,

  'Well, I never. What does that little chippy know about anything? I may have come out of the remnant bin but I came off a roll of good stuff in the beginning. It's not my fault I was the last bit left. Not my fault at all. How
unkind to speak of things she doesn't know, hasn't even seen yet, like that. She's got no consideration for anyone's feelings.'

  'I agree,' said Archie. 'She's certainly very snappy but maybe her piercings hurt, they are in the most extraordinary places. Look at that one in the little flap of skin guarding the opening to her ear. Who would want a great piece of metal stuck in there? It must be very hard to wash her ears. Or… my goodness, maybe she doesn't.'

  Archie recoiled from the thought as yet another door opened in his strange journey and they entered a large sunny workroom filled with cloth, sewing machines, people and many garments fitted to identical dummies.

  'Yes, Jade, what can I do for you'? Archie looked up at the woman who had spoken quietly but soothingly, easing his jangled nerves. She was not yet middle aged, small, neat and beautifully dressed.

  'She...'

  'I beg your pardon?'

  'Er, Her Majesty wants a cover run up for this,' she said handing over Archie and Terri.

  'Thank you Jade, you may go, but let me remind you again to remember your manners.'

  'Yes madam.'

  The girl went.

  'I fear Her Majesty's democratic principles are rather misplaced where that girl's concerned,' the lovely woman said.

  Archie could only agree but his attention soon returned to the woman who took him in hand. Like any gentleman visiting his tailor Archie enjoyed the next couple of hours. The experience of being measured, fitted and tweaked thrilled him. The seamstress was skilled and quick, running her tape measure over him before comparing him to a paper pattern she took from a long drawer on a far wall.

  'This may do,' she said, 'But I think we'll change the closing at the back. Some nice buttons perhaps.'

  'Buttons?' Archie was apprehensive about buttons. People so often chose the wrong ones and what about his new owner, would she approve of the seamstress' choice? Archie didn't know and continued to fret as the seamstress ran an experienced finger through the contents of a round and beautifully decorated tin. It was the unmistakable sound of a button search. She turned many buttons over and rejected them before choosing one she liked. Then she searched looking for its mates which took some time. All the while Archie attempted to see her choice. Finally four were chosen and laid aside. To his surprise they were white and medium sized and he had to say it, dull.

  'Never mind,' he thought, 'They could have been gaudy.'

  But Archie was more than surprised and delighted when Terri was removed from the brown paper and revealed to be a perfectly respectable and gorgeous deep rich red and navy stripe.

  Archie found her charming and said so,

  'Terri, what a beautiful arrangement of royal colours you are.'

  More than slightly pleased Terri ran a hand over herself with a slight tear in her eye,

  'It's so nice of you to say so...Archie. May I call you Archie'?

  'Of course...after all we're going to be together for some time.'

  This interesting circumstance hadn't previously occurred to Archie. Until now Terri had been a source of concern to him because she may have been less than....Archie was ashamed of the thought ...attractive, or in some way inferior. With the revelation of her very pleasing and he had to say it, regal appearance and show of emotion, Archie fell for her, in the classic sense, hook, line and sinker. For the first time in his life he was in love!

  Archie didn't know if he believed in love at first sight but when it came to the seamstress fitting Terri to his body and doing up the newly sewn buttons at her back, he did believe in love at first touch. Oh, the softness of her, the moulding of her to him! She fitted as though she were part of him and Archie, proven to be an emotional softie, swooned as she put her arms around him.

  It seemed a miracle that Terri should return his feelings but she did with tender eyes and lips that parted softly, inviting him to taste their softness.

  'There you are' the seamstress said, 'You too look lovely together.'

  In the rapture of their first embrace Archie and Terri hardly heard. Fighting his instincts which were incompatible with the presence of others, Archie held his treasure to him and longed for privacy, the night, the moon and stars, everything that symbolised love.

  Their time came soon enough as the women turned off the sewing machines, lowered the blinds on the windows and turned out the light. The seamstress went away, leaving Terri and Archie alone, wrapped in each other's arms.