A conversation between an Otter and a Girl

It was Sunday, which was Jemima’s favourite day. Not only was this particular unbirthday close to her actual birthday, but Jemima was in good spirits as she put on her new birthday coat for a leisurely stroll along the Thames. As she promenaded proudly in her new attire, she picked up a stick to run along the railings. It didn’t give her the satisfying clackity clack she was hoping for as the railings were too far apart.

“Well that’s not very good is it..” a voice came from below.

Jemima frowned at the rude statement, although true, and looked down into the water. There floating on the surface, was an otter on his back. Jemima stared at the creature blankly as she registered her own surprise.

“I said, not very good is it.” the otter repeated slower this time. Jemima scowled.

“I heard you the first time.” she replied curtly.

The otter looked rather relaxed as he floated on his back looking up at the girl, his arms resting neatly on his belly.

“Oh I thought you couldn’t understand me, yes not so good is it, that sound you’re making up there. There’s good noise and there’s bad noise, that, is bad noise.”

Jemima raised her eyebrows at the boldness of this very relaxed mammal.

“Well it’s not my fault.” she replied defensively.

The otter now raised his eyebrows at the false statement by this evidently stupid child.

“Is it not you up there making that pointless sound? Or is it another you? In another too much coat?”

Jemima huffed out defiantly and scowled again. “First of all, it’s not my fault about the sound, it’s not even my stick! The railings are too far apart. And second of all, my coat is not too much, it is more than enough!”

The otter scoffed. “Oh quite right, it’s more than enough, with that silly bow..And granted, your stick is not to blame, but you are the one using it in such a disappointing way.”

Jemima didn’t have the words to express her frustration, so she threw down the stick, disgruntled with how offended she felt. “What’s wrong with my bow?!”

The otter was casually spinning in slow circles on his back, and didn’t address Jemima until he made it all the way back around.

“A bow, is nothing but a pompous knot.” He said simply and closed his eyes as he continued to float around in a circle.

Jemima erupted with an angry stamp of her foot. “It is not!” she protested.

The otter opened his eyes unimpressed. “It is A knot.” he corrected.

Jemima could only sigh an exasperated sigh. “I know” she replied, annoyed and defeated.

“Oh you do?” I thought you didn’t understand again..” the otter responded flippantly.

Jemima sighed and muttered quietly “Well Tom likes my bow.” She then put her hands in her pockets and began to walk onwards along the path.

From not so far behind her, she heard the otter utter “Tomfoolery.”

Jemima couldn’t contain her anger and turned around to face the otter. She called down all manner of angry retorts along the lines of “How dare you!” and so on, until she was quite blue in the face.

The otter, completely unfazed and unbothered, continued floating alongside Jemima and then started to look up and beyond Jemima. Confused, Jemima stopped her tirade to add “Are you even listening to me?!”

The otter still looking past Jemima called out “Doroty!…Oh Doroty!”

“Dorotea?” Jemima looked behind her to see an oldish Chinese woman walking over to the railings. She turned back to the otter who had flipped himself over to swim to the steps that led up to the path. This was the first time that the otter had exerted any energy as far as Jemima could tell. She frowned in confusion as she observed the hurried creature meet the Chinese woman at the steps. She looked on curiously as the woman pulled out a small patterned china teacup with no handle, and handed it to the otter, whom had returned to his usual position of floating on his back. The woman then pulled out a cup for herself and placed it down on the step. Jemima made no effort not to stare at the unusual scene, and watched the woman pull out a flask from her shoulder bag, and pour herself and the otter a small cup of tea that Jemima could almost smell was jasmine.

She listened to the otter chatter away to the woman quietly, although she couldn’t make out what they were saying as she couldn’t hold on to any particular words, but watched the otter engrossed in conversation, gesturing with his little hands and nodding encouragingly as he listened to the woman. Jemima felt a little indignant that the otter hadn’t shown her the same level of respect or attentiveness. The woman appeared to finish her apparently fascinating point and finish her tea, and before packing her flask away, she poured the otter another cup of tea and then bid her small friend farewell. The otter bid her back by holding his cup high in the air, and politely nodding. He then caught Jemima looking down at him and so held his cup up to her and simply said “Yes?” expectantly.

Jemima scowled and said the only thing that came to mind that wouldn’t reveal too much of her curiosity. “You said her name wrong” she called down.

The otter blinked at Jemima, “What was that?”

“You said her name wrong. It’s Dorothy, not Dorotea.”

The otter, quite unimpressed at the girl’s lack of decorum, corrected her, for what felt like the third time at least.

“It is DoroTEA” he said holding up his cup pointedly. “DoroTEA, brings me tea, which is a lot more than you bring to the table.”

“What?!” Jemima couldn’t believe the nerve of the audacious little creature.

‘Well did you?” Have you brought me anything at all?! Anything in those dowdy pockets of yours?” This was more a statement of disdain than a question.

“How was I supposed to know yo..”

The otter interrupted Jemima to add, “Not even a crumb!” he wasn’t listening to Jemima anymore. “Crumbless..”he trailed off, “crummy..” he said even quieter to himself, floating nonchalantly as before, not even looking up at Jemima but more taken with the fish swimming beneath him.

“I’m not crumbless! And I still think you’re saying it wrong” Jemima felt firm at her words even though she knew she was grasping for something that could give her some authority over the otter. They both knew her words were weightless.

“DoroTEA, brings me tea, does she not?! And if Doroty says her name is Doroty, then that is her name.” The otter was clearly becoming impatient with the impertinent child.

“Well maybe she’s saying it wrong too.” Jemima felt embarrassed as soon as she had responded and looked around sheepishly.

The otter was unable to contain his outrage. “Don’t be so uncouth!” he boomed. The agitation in his voice had somehow not affected his body at all, which remained visibly relaxed.

Jemima decided to change the subject quickly to save face. “What were you two talking about anyway?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know..” The otter smirked.

“You don’t have to be so rude all the time!” Jemima snapped.

“What do you mean?” The otter replied innocently. “I said, wouldn’t you like to know?” clearly changing his tone to a question this time.

Jemima shook her head and grumbled.

“Do you speak Mandarin?” asked the otter, again innocent in tone.

Jemima frowned at him, “No, I don’t.”

“Oh really?” The otter raised his eyebrows in mock surprise, and then quickly dropped his innocent act as he lost interest once more.

“So are you going to tell me what were talking about?” Jemima asked.

The otter looked as though he was thinking, but then started to look around in all directions. Jemima waited patiently for a few seconds before she became frustrated again. “Well?”

“Where?” The otter replied.

“Where?” Jemima repeated, confused.

The otter looked around again. “There!” he announced as he fixed his gaze on something moving through the water. Something smaller than he that Jemima could not see. A small steam engine of a creature was hurtling towards the otter, and it was only when it had stopped and climbed onto the otter’s belly that Jemima could see it was a shrimp, or maybe actually a small lobster. “A shlobster” Jemima said to herself.

“A langoustine” said the otter, matter-of-factly.

“Oh! A langoustine.” Jemima corrected herself, and tipped her head apologetically towards the little creature with arms that were longer than his body. The langoustine twitched and uncurled it’s tail to reveal a little clam shell that he shimmied up towards the otter’s chin. Jemima was captivated by yet another curious scene that was happening in the water, and wanted to be involved.

“You’re very good at swimming” she called down to the langoustine.

The otter rolled his eyes at the girl’s obvious statement.

“Is that why you have such long arms?” she added, much to the otter’s dismay. He tutted and addressed the langoustine.

“I’m sorry about this girl Leonard. And thank you for the gift, it is most appreciated.” The otter then looked up at the girl and scowled. “See! Another friend that brings me things..crumbless!”

“I am not crumbless!” Jemima argued with another stamp of her foot.

“Do you have any crumbs in your pocket? Not even one?” the otter looked away unimpressed.

Jemima checked her pockets. “Well, no” she replied.

“Then you are without a crumb! Crumbless.” The otter had made his point. The langoustine, not sure how to answer the girl’s question and also unsure on how to diffuse the tension, said “Yes, I am very good at swimming, but that is not the reason I have such strong arms.”

“Long arms I said” replied Jemima.

“Strong arms yes, they are so I can fight like this..” with that, the langoustine karate chopped the clam so it split open.

“Bravo Leonard! Bravo!” rejoiced the otter as he slurped up the insides of the pretty clam shell. “That was mighty fine Leonard, a Norwegian clam if I’m not mistaken?”

The otter was certainly suave, and seemingly cultured as far as Jemima could tell.

“Oh yes, I picked it up on the way for you” Leonard declared proudly.

The otter smiled, rather smugly Jemima thought, and continued to listen to the otter’s conversation with the langoustine.

“Why don’t you take a rest on me, after all that swimming and fighting no doubt?” The otter was suave indeed.

The langoustine nodded in agreement and felt grateful to his friend, the otter. Leonard nuzzled into the otter’s soft fur, such a different sensation on his hard shelled body, and fell sleep in an instant.

The otter glanced up at the girl still watching. “I bet you couldn’t do that” he whispered upwards, loud enough for Jemima to hear but quiet enough as to not wake Leonard.

“What? Go to sleep?!” Jemima found the otter more and more confusing and as always, unexpected.

“No! Karate chop a clam” the otter replied as if it was obvious.

“Oh! Well of course not” Jemima was trying to be as quiet as she could, also not to wake Leonard.

“Why not?!” The otter was relentless in his antagonisation.

“Because I’m a girl, that’s why!” Jemima huffed.

“Useless. You, are a time waster!” The otter scorned.

Jemima had had enough and stormed off to go back home. She ended up sleeping off her anger, as the langoustine slept off his tiresome journey from Norway, and the otter slept off his snack of clam and tea.

The next morning, Jemima decided to return to the Thames walkway and strolled along the path, and looked down into the water as she walked, looking for the otter. She stopped when she came to the steps that led into the water that Doroty had visited. She looked down at the steps and her eyes grew wide with horror. She saw Leonard’s discarded armour, with no Leonard inside, or in sight.

“That monster!” she seethed as she searched the water for the otter.

After waiting for a short while, she couldn’t wait anymore, and so she hatched a plan on the rest of her walk along the Thames. She wandered into a Chinese tea shop on her way, a little shop that was filled with china teapots and little cups, and a smoke cloud of incense that hovered above the wares. She bought a little patterned china tea cup with no handle, and then wandered along to another shop that sold herbs that maybe shouldn’t have been sold. She returned to the scene to check once more, and as she looked down at Leonard’s lifeless remains, she hurried home to brew her concoction of bitter redemption.

By golden hour, her tea was ready, so she filled a flask and went back to the Thames and waited on the steps for the otter. The sun was beginning to set, and the air was growing cold, so Jemima poured a little cup of justice and left it on the step that was level with the water. She then went home to sleep off her excitement and guilt.

The next morning, she returned to the Thames steps and gasped when she saw the little pile of brown fur floating, this time, face down in the water. She reached for her discarded stick that she had thrown down a few days ago, and held it outwards, prodding the brown body and pulled it in towards the steps. She reached down into the water and scooped up the body that was bobbing on the top, and saw the otter’s face fixed into the familiar smug expression that Jemima rather liked when it didn’t talk so much, or not at all! She draped the dripping body around her neck like a fur stole, and as she felt the silken fur glide cooly along her neck, she looked at her not so pointless stick, and said “Not so useless after all” with her own smug smile.

Fin.