Fiona has a biscuit fetish. She has a family barrel on the dresser in the kitchen and a secret backup supply in the larder. The family know that she has a secret supply and she knows that they know so she moves it around frequently. What they don’t know is that she has yet another supply hidden in the drawer of her bed.
Of course, she likes the taste of biscuits. Who doesn’t? But it’s more of a filing system than anything. You see, she’s been losing her memory over the last few years and she’s noticed how easy it is to lose touch with one’s friends. So she started a journal, making notes about all the people she knows. The first section is the most important and is entitled ‘Fiona’s Friends’:
The Rich Tea
Friend number 1 I’ve know for many years. I’m slightly in awe of her. She’s always, always been slim, immaculately turned out and never peaky even on morning afters or in the post-baby phase. She is the most reliable person I know.
Friend number 2 is busty, warm, overflowing with laughter and passion. I don’t want her to lose weight because she’s just so luscious as she is. She is life itself.
Friend number 3 is interesting, sensitive and sophisticated even. I am sure that I shock her each time we meet. She is feminine and fragile. To be honest, I’m always slightly worried that one day she’ll go off. I’m not sure that we’re terribly well suited. The first time I saw her, I was scared but actually we always get a long great. Thinking about it but sometimes opposites attract, don’t they?
Friend number 4 feeds my soul and reminds me what it is to be me. Both of us have appalling memories and laugh at the same things; the scrapes we’ve got into and out of. Repeatedly. I think I’m actually a watered down version of her. It’s like coming home.
Friend number 5 takes me back to my childhood. Her accent embodies good taste, reminds me of my family and mince and tatties. She exudes class and earthiness simultaneously. Firm but kind, accepting, challenging, intuitive.
There are two advantages to Fiona’s system. She can actually taste the metaphor of each biscuit variety to remind her of the individual friends’ qualities. Or, if they really annoy her, she can whip one off the plate in front of them and bite them in half savagely.
At Christmas time, she doesn’t send cards any more, claiming that it’s too taxing for her. Instead, she sends them a variety box of biscuits. She imagines them eating each other.