Quackers About You Coffee Break Tale

Will the feathers start to fly as Valentine’s jealousies mount?

Aduck, the waddling kind? I’m looking for a Valentine’s card with a duck on it.” The woman’s voice was familiar and, on that February afternoon in the local newsagent, my heart sank to my boots as I peered around the card section. I’d guessed rightly. It was my rival, Cressida, in her bus driver’s gear.

“A duck? Not sure. How about a goose?” replied the assistant helpfully. I crept towards the door and escaped.

It was raining, and lorries spewed out fountains of dirty water as I hurried along. I was fuming!

Cressida had not long moved in next door to Fergus, my new boyfriend. She seemed pleasant enough, but she fancied Fergus like crazy. How did I know, when I’d never really spoken to her, woman to woman, as it were?

Well, I first spotted it – the fancying – on the day my Fergus, divorced and gorgeous, proudly showed Cressida around his mini menagerie of chickens, rabbits, hamsters, cats and a spaniel called Charlie.

I happened to be there, along with Molly, the girl he’d hired to help with it all.

“I’ve just built that duck house.”

Fergus pointed beyond the pond. “I’m hoping to get a couple of ducks.”

“Great, I love ducks!” cried Molly.

“Oh, so do I!” Cressida rolled her big blue eyes in ecstasy.

I cringed as she and Fergus discussed breeds, habits and all things duck-like.

It didn’t stop there, either; her toadying around him. When Molly’s van went in for repair and Fergus was at work, Cressida took the girl out twice in her own car, loading up sacks of animal food. All, obviously, to impress Fergus.

Now, I sidestepped puddles and sighed. The last straw had been Fergus looking after Cressida’s cat when she went away. She’d only ordered him two ducks as a thank you present!

And now she was buying him a card.

Words failed me; it was as though I, his girlfriend, was invisible to her!

“Ellie, you’re paranoid!” scoffed Jane, at work. “She’s just grateful to Fergus.”

“So, she buys him ducks and a Valentine card?” I mocked. “As you do?”

Next evening, Fergus invited Cressida, Molly and me to his garden to await the new arrivals, laughingly calling us the “quackers welcoming committee”.

We all fell for the ducks instantly. Morecambe and Wise, as Fergus christened them, were gorgeous, with silver-white heads and cream bodies.

Even at my firm’s annual dinner on Saturday, I couldn’t compete. Fergus did say I looked stunning in my new black dress, but Morecambe and Wise, “bringing him sunshine” in February, were the main topic of conversation.

Had duck à l’orange been on the menu and I‘d chosen it, I reckon our relationship would have been over by dessert.

The truth was, I loved my Fergus – lopsided smile, ducks and all – but I’d begun to panic. What had we in common? I was into horror films and romantic novels; he into menageries and mud. Cressida seemed much more on his wavelength.

The Valentine’s card I eventually bought – butterflies flitting about on the front and Iloveyouforever inside – seemed a bit understated. But

Jane declared it profound and perfect.

On V-day itself, lf Fergus said he’d cook and I looked forward to a cosy night in. When I arrived, he presented me with red roses.

Touched, I kissed him and thanked him for my card – two tartan-clad teddy bears hugging. I was just grateful he’d steered clear of ducks, Scottish or otherwise.

Glancing at my card to him, standing alone on the coffee table, I wondered about Cressida’s. Maybe Fergus had hidden it, or she’d had second thoughts… Molly rushed in from the garden with Charlie.

“I’m just off,” she said. “Have a good evening.”

Charlie’s barking interrupted her as the doorbell rang. Fergus opened the door, and Cressida sidled in, card in hand.

I was mortified. She knew I was here; my car sat alongside Molly’s van outside!

“Sorry, I should have brought this earlier, but I was working.” Cressida cleared her throat.

“Happy Valentine’s Day!” she said quietly, handing the card to a smiling, blushing Molly.

I stared. Then everything fell into place and I just beamed. Fergus winked at me. “Let’s go and see to the meal,” he said, grabbing my hand.

In the kitchen, swamped by the delicious aromas of vegetable lasagne, Fergus pulled me to him and kissed me once more.

Stars, hearts, wedding bells and all things romantic danced before my eyes. Along with lots and lots of beautiful ducks…