Love...Under Different Skies Read Online Free PDF Page B

nothing to stop her from tormenting me. As if to exemplify this point, a rattle hits me on the right ear before clattering onto the floor. Even with the noise it makes nobody wakes up to come to my aid. I am trapped and at Manjula’s mercy.
    Thankfully she’s running out of her deadly arsenal and is reduced to chucking a sad-looking stuffed elephant my way. This bounces harmlessly off my cheek.
    “Ha!” I exclaim in furious delight. “That one didn’t hurt one little b— ’ ”
    Another cardboard picture book, this time featuring a hippo on the cover, hits me square on the chin. She was hiding it! The vicious little cow was deliberately lulling me into a false sense of security before unleashing her final victorious salvo. I am incensed .
    Without thinking about what I am doing, I lean forward and very smartly flick Manjula on the end of the nose. She immediately starts to cry.
    Ha! Ha! Not so clever now are you, you bloody monster!
    I shake my fist at her. Yes, I actually shake my fist in triumph at a baby not yet a year out of her mother’s womb, having just physically assaulted her. I should be ashamed of myself, but I’m not. Not by a long shot.
    That’s what you get for fucking with Jamie Newman! I scream in the vaults of my mind while continuing to waggle a vengeful knuckle sandwich.
    Manjula’s mother snaps awake to see her adorable baby girl screaming her head off while the mental white man in the seat next to her threatens her child with his balled-up fist.
    “Manjula!” she cries, waking Poppy, Laura, and the surrounding passengers.
    I stop the fist waving and immediately concentrate my complete and undivided attention on the end credits of The Avengers .
    “Oh Manjula!”
    Wh o’d have thought Robert Downey Jr. needed three hairdressers?
    “ Ēkach ōṭāsārōnābandakarō !”
    My my, they do use a lot of people for the special effects in these movies don’t they?
    “Kyābātahai?”
    Filmed on location in New Mexico, Pittsburgh, and Stuttgart. How very interesting.
    “Apanēnākaujjvalalālaky ōṁhai?”
    “What’s going on Jamie?” Laura asks in a hazy voice.
    “Daddy hit the baby!” Poppy cries and collapses into hilarity.
    Manjula’s mother nails me to my chair with a look of deep suspicion. It seems the woman knows more English than she’s let on.
    “What? No, no!” I lie, feigning complete innocence. “Pay no attention to my daughter. She’s a moron.”
    “Jamie!”
    Pops doesn’t seem too bothered by the insult. She’s still laughing like a loon and bouncing one hand off her nose. Manjula is quieting down now, so the Indian woman puts her back in the bassinet and returns to her half doze. I can’t help noticing her left eye remains slightly open.
    For my part, I offer Manjula a final smug grin of victory and then try to give Twilight 2: The Search for Kristen Stewart’s Personality a go. I last twelve minutes before turning it off and doing something more constructive by picking my nose.
    Yes indeed. There’s nothing like several hours of airline travel to reduce you to the level of casual child molestation, I always say. As I sit here writing this, we’re on the second leg of the journey from Singapore to Brisbane. Manjula and her mother did not get back on the flight I’m pleased to say.
    I am now next to an elderly Chinese gentleman who could be anything from sixty-five to 450. I think he’s getting a bit annoyed with my constant tip tap on the laptop keyboard, so I’m going to shut it down and try to entertain myself with something on the TV. The Kardashian documentary has been replaced by one about Paris Hilton, Twilight has given way to all three Transformers movies, and I’ve already seen every episode of Fawlty Towers about seven times.
    I’m starting to wish Manjula had taken my eyes out with her ninja book throwing.
     
     
     
     

LAURA’S DIARY
    Monday, January 9
    G’day Mum!
    Sorry, I won’t write that again, I promise.
    We’ve been here a week