'It's a little old-fashioned and the water pressure up here isn't great. Would you like me to wait, or can you find your way back down?'
'Oh no, no, no,' I replied, shaking my head vigorously. There was no way I wanted him listening to the likely cacophony of sound as I deposited my load. 'I mean, no need to wait, I can find my way down. Lady problems, I might be a while.'
'Ah, say no more,' he nodded with a sympathetic smile. I slapped my forehead as he shut the door. I'm sure if he wasn't so polite and charming, he'd have ordered me to say no more. Could I have shared any more inappropriate personal information? Waddling like a penguin, I made it to the toilet, turned around, and braced myself to whip everything down at speed so I could sit down as fast as humanly possible before anything exploded out.
'On the count of three, Carter. Three … drumroll … two … drumroll … one, go, go, go!' I landed with a triumphant 'Ha!' to have avoided any mishaps. However, instead of the expected sound of escaping wind and the splatter of pebble-dashing, I heard nothing. I gingerly looked down through my thighs, wondering what was going, and my jaw dropped. 'Jesus Christ. I just gave birth to a chocolate python without even noticing!'
My God. I'd never done a poo so big before, with absolutely no effort at all. It had curled back on itself and the water level in the toilet seemed to be a few inches higher from the dead weight.
'Wow, I've probably lost a whole stone laying that bad boy,' I proudly observed as I wiped, then gingerly stood up, expecting to need to sit down quickly again. Nothing happened, however, and my tummy pains had miraculously gone, just like that. Crisis had been averted. I happily pulled up my clothes, then tugged on the chain that dangled down from the old-fashioned, wall-mounted cistern and went to wash my hands, which took a while with the slow trickling water. Deciding it was better to be safe than sorry, I peeked back in the toilet bowl to make sure I'd not left any remnants and gasped. My poo was still sitting exactly where it had been, intact, but the water in the bowl had risen dangerously high. 'Crap! I've blocked the damn toilet,' I moaned, completely mortified.
I quickly looked around for a toilet brush. I was going to have to break this beast's back and hope that enough water drained so I could try and flush again, but wouldn't you know it, posh people don't have toilet brushes. I wondered if they had special staff who came and wiped their bottoms and cleaned the toilet for them after as I started to panic. I couldn't risk flushing again while it was still in there or I'd flood the bathroom. Equally, I couldn't leave a one-foot turd as a surprise gift for my host either.
I searched the room, desperately trying to find something that would help me, even a sanitary bag that I could try and scoop the poop into to put in the bin, but I was shit outta luck, pun certainly not intended. I gulped and wished I'd grabbed a handbag before I dashed out, I could have shoved it in there. As it was, I had nothing, and it wasn't like I could fish it out and take it down to join us for afternoon tea. Not that it wouldn't take up an entire seat on its own, it was that humongous.
I looked back in the toilet, hoping it might have slithered away, but it was still there.
Brown.
Immobile.
Taunting me.
I sighed as I looked around the room, wondering if I could hide it somewhere, then scuttled out to look up and down the corridor, hoping to see a pot plant I could bury it in. No such luck. I returned to the toilet and stood staring down at it, running out of options.
'Window, Abbie, toss it out of the window,' I exclaimed as inspiration struck. Hopefully the groundsman would just assume it was one of the beagles who'd been backed up for a while. I threw the leaded window open and groaned as I turned to face the toilet and rolled up my jumper sleeve. I tried to make myself a toilet paper glove, then took a deep breath as I reached into the toilet and grasped the stubborn monstrosity. Turned out, surprisingly, that a toilet paper glove wasn't much use at all, and I whimpered as it fell apart and I was left clutching the offending item, praying it was going to hold its shape as I hoisted it out of the water. 'Of all the lows in your life, Abbie Carter, you just sank to a whole new level, literally,' I scolded myself, as I quickly tossed it out and slammed the window shut.
I pulled the chain, relieved to see the water level go down this time, then grabbed the toilet roll off the hook, feeling physically sick as I desperately wiped my wet hand and arm, then ran to the sink to scrub myself as hard as I could. Georgie's text tone of Who Let The Dogs Out started ringing in my back pocket, but I didn't have time to answer it. I'd been up here way too long, so I dried myself and hurried back downstairs to rejoin them.
As I walked through the lounge and into the orangery, it was completely silent, so quiet you could almost hear a pin drip. My God, what had happened while I'd been gone? Georgie had a horrified look on her face as she stared at me, her blue eyes as wide as a Frisbee.
'What?' I exclaimed, following her line of sight as she slowly pointed upwards and dragged her eyes up to where she was gesturing.
I gasped and felt my cheeks turn deep scarlet to be faced with my large poo, which was slowly making its way down the glass roof of the orangery, leaving a sticky brown trail behind it. Max was staring up at it as well, his mouth opening and closing as if he was trying to think of some appropriate posh-person words to say. No wonder nothing was coming out of his mouth. I mean, what did one say when a guest's turd was doing the slalom down your conservatory roof? Lady Kirkland had just frozen, mid-bite of an unfortunately timed chocolate-dipped Viennese biscuit, as she stared up at it, looking as if she was about to pass out from the shock. My chance of an invite to this year's summer fête was well and truly screwed. 'Crap!' I muttered.
'It's not funny,' I moaned, dropping my forehead to my freshly scrubbed arms as I sat at my kitchen island. Sumo was safely curled up on his armchair, exhausted from his unusual exercise, as Georgie cackled in front of me.
'I can't believe you had the balls to try and pass off the blame on an oversized pigeon,' she howled.
'Well, what was I supposed to do? Turn around and run out of the front door and leave you holding Sumo and my trainers while you tried to cover for me?!'
'Well, if you'd answered your phone, I did send a text saying not to come back in!'
'I was seriously flustered, Georgie. Do you think they believed me?'
'Abbie, seriously, no human being has ever laid anything that big, let alone a pigeon. No wonder you had tummy ache. They knew it was you and were too polite, or shocked, to say anything. It's not every day a turd lands on your glass roof as you're sipping Earl Grey from fine chintz cups, with the butler on standby. And you didn't help matters by trying to back up your totally unbelievable story by rambling on about the fascinating facts of the different-sized animal droppings in comparison to their size. I thought Lady Kirkland was going to have a heart attack, and the look on the poor butler's face was priceless!'
'I was stressed, I ramble when I'm stressed. I can't believe I didn't look first to see there was a glass roof below when I threw it out of the window. I mean, what were the chances?' I groaned.
'Well, next time you're about to try another round of turd tossing, which I think should be introduced as a new event at the fête this year, check what's below first. I nearly died when it splatted above us and I looked up.'
'You nearly died? How do you think I felt when I walked in to find you all staring at it?'
'On the plus side, other than being a bit gooey around the edges, it looked pretty healthy, thick and firm in the centre, conker brown, no random undigested sweet corn or mushrooms in it,' she giggled.
'Not helping, Georgie! Promise me you won't tell anyone about this, please,' I pleaded.
'Ok, from this moment, I promise my lips are sealed,' she nodded, miming a zip across her lips.
'What do you mean, this moment?' I exclaimed, sitting up to face her. Surely she hadn't told anyone.
'Ermmm, I may have already texted Daphne.'
'No!' I groaned, as if my humiliation couldn't reach new depths. I went to cover my face with my hands, then changed my mind and reached for the antibacterial hand gel bottle instead. I was going through it like water, unable to forget the horror of having touched that poo and having my hand in the toilet.
'Sorry, but it was too funny not to share.'
'Great,' I sighed, shuddering at the sound of the gel as it squirted out of the bottle, sounding like a fart. I'd had as much toilet humour, or non-humour, as I could take for one day.
'And Charlie,' Georgie added with a grimace.
'Georgie!' I scolded, shooting her a glare as I slathered the gel on my hands.
'I'd maybe pretend to be out next time Heath's due to call around, too.' Her grimace soon disappeared as she roared with laughter when my jaw dropped. Heath? She'd told Heath?!
'I hate you, Georgie Basset!'
'Are you ok, Chubbers?' I asked, after he whined when I started turning out the lounge lights. It was like someone had pulled his plug out. All of that youthful puppy energy he'd had earlier was gone. He hadn't eaten any dinner and he looked weak and exhausted. I'd had to carry him home from Lord Kirkland's house as he'd been so tired after his adventure. 'Here, let me put the blanket on you so you're nice and warm. If you're no better in the morning, we'll call Bradley, ok?'