Checkmate

Arthur Drew caught sight of his reflection in the bus window. He stared for a little longer, as he admired his voluptuous eyebrows. Arthur was very fond of his eyebrows which he considered his most redeeming feature. They matched his moustache perfectly, both being dark brown with little blond flecks in them and tiny ginger hairs, like one might expect to see on a tortoiseshell cat. He occasionally trimmed his moustache but never, ever, did he pluck his eyebrows. A pair of tweezers they had never come into contact with. It was not a planned trip on Bus number forty-two to Bloomsbury that late afternoon on a miserable wet Wednesday in October, more of an emergency really. Some things could be put on the back burner for a while but this was not one of them. After he received, what can only be described as, a jeering phone call from his chess opponent Victor, Arthur dropped everything and made his way to the British Museum to see if what Victor had said was accurate. For Arthur, everything had to be veritable by himself and he trusted no one, especially Victor, whom he longed to beat at chess someday. They both belonged to a chess club with its headquarters in an antique gentlemen’s club where dull middle-aged men went on to become incredibly boring old men. It suited Arthur as his personality was akin to that of a dead fish and the only thing remotely interesting about him was the aforementioned eyebrows. Arthur and Victor were, at that time in the middle of a chess match which had been in play for three months. Their table, in the corner by the old mostly neglected bookcase was set up ready for the next move, which was Victors. He and Victor had that rivalry that can only come from a deep and secret loathing of the other. They were polite to each other, but it was an uncomfortable politeness with an undertone of mistrust. Two weeks previously Arthur had moved his bishop to a secure position and Victor’s king was in a very insecure location, although, at this stage, capture was by no means inevitable. This had made Victor childishly infuriated, Arthur saw it in him. Even though he was calm and gracious on the outside, he knew that inside, Victor was fuming and Arthur basked in his minor success. That is, until the phone call.
The light was starting to fade as he entered the museum. Waking into the Great Court he encountered the portly security guard. ‘You know that we close in ‘arf an ‘our?' Arthur waited for the ‘sir’ but it never came. ‘Yes, I won’t be that long. I just need to see one exhibit.' His shoes squeaked down the hall to the East Lift and made his way to the first floor. He thought of Victor’s words ‘You should pop along to the museum Arthur, I was there today and saw something you would be very interested in.' Then he had given a little snigger which had annoyed Arthur very much.
‘And what might that be Victor?'
‘Today Arthur, old man, I met your doppelgänger.'
‘My what?'
‘Pop along there, I’m sure you’ll find it as fascinating as I did. New exhibits section.' Another snigger. ‘See you at the club tonight.' Arthur could have sworn he heard uproarious laughing as Victor hung up.
He reached the second floor and spotted the sign, a large hand with a pointing finger, New Exhibits. Arthur wondered who his doppelganger could be. A Roman Emperor? A Greek Philosopher? Was he a statue? Bronze possibly? A fine marble made by ancient craftsmen of high intellect? But, if it were any of these things would Victor have sniggered? Or even mentioned it? Arthur became very nervous as he reached the room. Upon entering he saw a large glass case with the information above Latest Exhibits. He moved cautiously across the room, stopping by the case and before looking in he got out his handkerchief out to wipe away some smears. ‘Dam schoolkids, shouldn’t be allowed in a museum.’ Looking gingerly into the case he saw five shrunken heads. In the middle was a poor unfortunate Dutch explorer with enormous tortoiseshell eyebrows. In fact, the head was actually the spitting image of Arthur, but the size of a grapefruit. Oh, the humiliation, to have a shrunken head as a doppelgänger. At that moment Arthur hated Victor. He turned around and stormed out of the museum straight to the chemist, to buy some tweezers before chess club.
© Copyright. Cassandra Jarvis (2017)