Barbie & Clive (Short Fiction)
22nd October 2025
In: Short Stories
I never thought those two looked good together. They didn’t fit — looked too awkward as a couple. God knows what he saw in her — she was too short for him, not much over five foot, while he was more than six. Like I say, ill-matched.
I s’pose she was pretty, in a pink-plastic-dolly kind of way. Blonde (probably bleached) and turned out like a fashion magazine advert, but her voice was tinny — the sort that quickly gets on the nerves. I reckon she was none too bright, either, judging from the overheard bits of conversation in the youth club toilets. Definitely leaning towards bimbo-ish. Smug little cow.
Clive was a god. Handsome doesn’t do him justice. I’d always fancied him, but never had the chance to get anywhere close with limpet Barbie hanging round. I think he’d have liked me if he’d got to know me. As it was, I’m not sure he even knew I existed.
Well, I couldn’t wait forever, so I went out with Brian, then Roger, then … I can’t remember the order. We grew too old for youth club, left school and got ourselves employment. I went to work at the same company where Clive already had a job, but in a different department, the building so large I hardly caught a glimpse of him. Only once, did we share a crowded lift. I caught his eye and smiled. Although his face registered no trace of recognition, he smiled back, which made my day. But that was it. No more sightings, so I assumed he’d found
another job, as did I.
My move to shop work meant I was in the main part of town for five and a half days a week. I was a junior assistant in the lingerie section of Clarke & Thomsons’ department store. I quite liked the job, although I wasn’t too keen on working Saturdays. Saturday had previously been my day for trawling round the shops, spending my earnings on whatever whim of fashion I could afford, and gazing longingly at those I could not. Now I found myself on the wrong side of the counter, quite often serving girls I was at school with, their sisters, or mothers. One Saturday afternoon, only a few weeks after I’d started there, Barbie waltzed in with Clive in tow. He looked desperately bored.
When I saw her heading towards me, I tried to take evasive action, but we were very busy and I wasn’t quite quick enough in disappearing into the stock room. Mrs Grant, my department head, was just coming through the door wrestling with a mannequin rather larger than she was. I had no choice but give her a hand with it. By which time Barbie had recognized me and was waiting at the counter.
My ‘Can I help you?’ was probably a little chilly. Clive had wandered off, which was just as well, as he would have been too much of a distraction.
‘I didn’t know you worked here,’ she said brightly.
‘Yes ... well, um ...’ I looked down at the frothy pink nightdress and negligee set she had draped over her arm. ‘Do you want to try those on?’
‘No. If you’ll just pop them in a bag for me. I don’t want Clive to see them — they’re for my trousseau.’ She smiled triumphantly.
My heart sank, and I turned away quickly, sure my dismay was written all over my face. Gritting my teeth, I folded her purchase carefully in tissue and slid it into a carrier bag, then rang up the bill. I don’t remember what else she said, I was just so pleased when she’d gone and I could go to the ladies, where I bawled my eyes out.
I saw the announcement in the paper. The date burned into my flesh like a brand. They had chosen my twenty-first birthday to get married on. Of all the days they could have picked, Fate added insult to injury.
I dropped heavy hints that I didn’t want a party, but my friends were having none of it, and went ahead regardless. What could I do but dress up, smile, and pretend I was having fun. After the third or fourth glass of fizzy, I did feel more like celebrating, and less like joining a nunnery. Even so, having felt miserable for weeks, suddenly feeling merry felt oddly surreal. When I’d done the rounds of chatting to everyone, thanked them for coming, convinced them all the birthday girl was having a good time, I spied a chance to slip away, get a breath of air, and be on my own for a few minutes.
I walked for a while, just mulling things over, enjoying the contrasting quiet of the street to the noisy party. There was a bus shelter I sometimes sat in to have a solitary think. I headed towards it now, but saw someone was already there. And that someone was Clive. When I realized who it was, I hesitated, confused because he should have been elsewhere — on his honeymoon with Barbie.
I approached warily, then sat on the far end of the seat. ‘Hallo, Clive.’
He looked up. ‘Oh, hi Alice.’ He offered a very weak smile, then looked down at his hands.
I simply had to know. ‘Aren’t you supposed to be away somewhere? I thought you got married today.’
‘Cancelled. Barb’s in hospital — appendicitus.’ He sighed.
‘Oh, I’m sorry. She’s okay, though, isn’t she?’
‘Yes. It was all a bit dramatic. She collapsed, in agony. They rushed her in and operated immediately. She’ll be fine, they said.’
‘Oh, that’s good!’ I actually meant it, too. Much to my own surprise.
‘I feel bad, though,’ Clive went on ‘because I was sort of glad it got cancelled. I didn’t really want to get married. I just couldn’t tell her that.’ Another heavy sigh.
I was lost for words. We sat in silence for a few minutes. At last, I said quietly ‘Don’t you love her, then?’
‘Not enough.’ He paused. ‘I’m sort of used to her. It’s odd, really ... I don’t want to lose her completely, but I’m not that keen to get married. I know it’s what she wants, but ...’ he trailed off.
‘Well, you’re gonna have to tell her, aren’t you?’ Suddenly, I felt annoyed with him for stringing her along. For making me so miserable, too, and for turning out to be such a disappointment for both poor Barbie and me, and for totally destroying my opinion of him. ‘I’ve got to get back to the party. It’s my birthday ...’
‘Right. Well — Happy Birthday!’ A big smile this time, but I didn’t return it. I could have invited him to come and have a drink, but I didn’t. My sympathy was with Barbie.
‘See you.’ I walked away, eager to get back to my friends.
*****
They never did get married. I heard that Clive took a transfer to somewhere in the North-East. Barbie got engaged to a doctor — a junior surgeon who’d been on the operating team that had taken her appendix out. I was pleased for her. That pink frilly nightie and negligee will likely get some use after all.
I s’pose she was pretty, in a pink-plastic-dolly kind of way. Blonde (probably bleached) and turned out like a fashion magazine advert, but her voice was tinny — the sort that quickly gets on the nerves. I reckon she was none too bright, either, judging from the overheard bits of conversation in the youth club toilets. Definitely leaning towards bimbo-ish. Smug little cow.
Clive was a god. Handsome doesn’t do him justice. I’d always fancied him, but never had the chance to get anywhere close with limpet Barbie hanging round. I think he’d have liked me if he’d got to know me. As it was, I’m not sure he even knew I existed.
Well, I couldn’t wait forever, so I went out with Brian, then Roger, then … I can’t remember the order. We grew too old for youth club, left school and got ourselves employment. I went to work at the same company where Clive already had a job, but in a different department, the building so large I hardly caught a glimpse of him. Only once, did we share a crowded lift. I caught his eye and smiled. Although his face registered no trace of recognition, he smiled back, which made my day. But that was it. No more sightings, so I assumed he’d found
another job, as did I.
My move to shop work meant I was in the main part of town for five and a half days a week. I was a junior assistant in the lingerie section of Clarke & Thomsons’ department store. I quite liked the job, although I wasn’t too keen on working Saturdays. Saturday had previously been my day for trawling round the shops, spending my earnings on whatever whim of fashion I could afford, and gazing longingly at those I could not. Now I found myself on the wrong side of the counter, quite often serving girls I was at school with, their sisters, or mothers. One Saturday afternoon, only a few weeks after I’d started there, Barbie waltzed in with Clive in tow. He looked desperately bored.
When I saw her heading towards me, I tried to take evasive action, but we were very busy and I wasn’t quite quick enough in disappearing into the stock room. Mrs Grant, my department head, was just coming through the door wrestling with a mannequin rather larger than she was. I had no choice but give her a hand with it. By which time Barbie had recognized me and was waiting at the counter.
My ‘Can I help you?’ was probably a little chilly. Clive had wandered off, which was just as well, as he would have been too much of a distraction.
‘I didn’t know you worked here,’ she said brightly.
‘Yes ... well, um ...’ I looked down at the frothy pink nightdress and negligee set she had draped over her arm. ‘Do you want to try those on?’
‘No. If you’ll just pop them in a bag for me. I don’t want Clive to see them — they’re for my trousseau.’ She smiled triumphantly.
My heart sank, and I turned away quickly, sure my dismay was written all over my face. Gritting my teeth, I folded her purchase carefully in tissue and slid it into a carrier bag, then rang up the bill. I don’t remember what else she said, I was just so pleased when she’d gone and I could go to the ladies, where I bawled my eyes out.
I saw the announcement in the paper. The date burned into my flesh like a brand. They had chosen my twenty-first birthday to get married on. Of all the days they could have picked, Fate added insult to injury.
I dropped heavy hints that I didn’t want a party, but my friends were having none of it, and went ahead regardless. What could I do but dress up, smile, and pretend I was having fun. After the third or fourth glass of fizzy, I did feel more like celebrating, and less like joining a nunnery. Even so, having felt miserable for weeks, suddenly feeling merry felt oddly surreal. When I’d done the rounds of chatting to everyone, thanked them for coming, convinced them all the birthday girl was having a good time, I spied a chance to slip away, get a breath of air, and be on my own for a few minutes.
I walked for a while, just mulling things over, enjoying the contrasting quiet of the street to the noisy party. There was a bus shelter I sometimes sat in to have a solitary think. I headed towards it now, but saw someone was already there. And that someone was Clive. When I realized who it was, I hesitated, confused because he should have been elsewhere — on his honeymoon with Barbie.
I approached warily, then sat on the far end of the seat. ‘Hallo, Clive.’
He looked up. ‘Oh, hi Alice.’ He offered a very weak smile, then looked down at his hands.
I simply had to know. ‘Aren’t you supposed to be away somewhere? I thought you got married today.’
‘Cancelled. Barb’s in hospital — appendicitus.’ He sighed.
‘Oh, I’m sorry. She’s okay, though, isn’t she?’
‘Yes. It was all a bit dramatic. She collapsed, in agony. They rushed her in and operated immediately. She’ll be fine, they said.’
‘Oh, that’s good!’ I actually meant it, too. Much to my own surprise.
‘I feel bad, though,’ Clive went on ‘because I was sort of glad it got cancelled. I didn’t really want to get married. I just couldn’t tell her that.’ Another heavy sigh.
I was lost for words. We sat in silence for a few minutes. At last, I said quietly ‘Don’t you love her, then?’
‘Not enough.’ He paused. ‘I’m sort of used to her. It’s odd, really ... I don’t want to lose her completely, but I’m not that keen to get married. I know it’s what she wants, but ...’ he trailed off.
‘Well, you’re gonna have to tell her, aren’t you?’ Suddenly, I felt annoyed with him for stringing her along. For making me so miserable, too, and for turning out to be such a disappointment for both poor Barbie and me, and for totally destroying my opinion of him. ‘I’ve got to get back to the party. It’s my birthday ...’
‘Right. Well — Happy Birthday!’ A big smile this time, but I didn’t return it. I could have invited him to come and have a drink, but I didn’t. My sympathy was with Barbie.
‘See you.’ I walked away, eager to get back to my friends.
*****
They never did get married. I heard that Clive took a transfer to somewhere in the North-East. Barbie got engaged to a doctor — a junior surgeon who’d been on the operating team that had taken her appendix out. I was pleased for her. That pink frilly nightie and negligee will likely get some use after all.