***Imagine being Charlie Mortdecai's wife***

It'd been a long time since I'd been through my jewellery box, so I decided today would be a good day to do just that.

I stood up from my desk (I'd been writing a letter to my mother. She was constantly asking me if my and Charlie's (he's my husband), relationship was ok).

Uggghh...

Anyway, here's what I'd written:

Dear Mum,

I and Charlie are doing fine. Please stop asking, it's costing us a lot of stamps. There is something called a telephone, by the way, so use that instead would you?

Our relationship is great. If it wasn't I would be at home already eating pizza and ice cream, watching TV in my pyjamas.
Remember, I'm married now?

He's taken good care of me and I've taken good care of him too. Please stop worrying about me, I'm fine honestly.

On a much happier note, I'm happier than I've ever been with him.
What about you and dad?

Love you both and miss you very much.

Love Y/N xxxx

Ps: Use the telephone to reply.

Ok, so maybe my letter wasn't the nicest, but I'm trying to be truthful. I was bought up that way after all.

Anyway, I keep my jewellery box on top of my wardrobe (it's got my favourite jewellery in it. Some of the jewellery I've had since I was a little girl).
I need a stool to get my jewellery box down, so a stool I shall get....from the bathroom.

I opened my bedroom door and quickly hurried into the bathroom across the landing. The bathroom was painted white and covered in gold-coloured bathroom tiles.
I spotted the wooden stool next to the toilet, (I couldn't understand why it was there in the first place), but Charlie insisted that it stay there.
Well, I wasn't going to argue, but.....

As I retreated from the bathroom, (stool in hand), I heard my husband's voice echo loudly through the hallway.

"JOCKY!!!" I heard him yell.

"Hi, Jock." I sighed, to the tall man hurrying quickly along the hall.
Jock was tall and had quite a muscular build. He had little hair and had a scar on his forehead.

"Hello, madam, what you doing with that stool?"

"Getting something from my bedroom," I say. "What's Charlie yelling about this time?"

"No idea. That's why I'm going to find out."

"JOCKY!!!" I heard my husband yell again.

We both sighed.
"Well, I must be going." And with that Jock hurried off down the hallway and to goodness knows where.

I opened my bedroom door, placed my stool in front of the wardrobe and climbed on top of it. (I climbed on top of the stool, not the wardrobe. Obviously duh).

I stretched my hand as far as it could go, only grabbing at air and dust.
I groped about for the box for a few minutes then -

Ah-ha!

Found it!

I pulled the box towards me and pulled it off the top of the wardrobe.
Once I had a hold of it, I jumped off the stool and onto the soft cream carpeted floor.

I walked over to my bed and sat down on the white silk duvet. I plumped my pillows and sat against the headboard.
I then clicked open my jewellery box.

Before I say any more, can I just say how pretty my jewellery box is? It was a small lilac coloured box, with a little silver handle, a little golden lock that'd open the box. It was imprinted with little silver butterflies.
My mother gave it to me when I was eleven, along with a beautiful necklace. The necklace was made of gold and had a little pink butterfly charm. It was my lucky charm.

Anyway, as I clicked open the jewellery box, I opened the little secret compartment (that's where I kept my lucky charm). Then, I screamed, dropping the box, the jewellery spilling out and over the floor.

My necklace wasn't there. I sank to my knees and looked thoroughly through the jewellery. It wasn't there either.

Then I heard two pairs of footsteps hurrying quickly along the hall, stopping outside my door.

"Y/N, what's the matter?" Asked my husband, hurrying in, Jock entering behind him. "I heard a most frightful scream."

"My neck- neck - necklace... it's it's it's..."

"It's what?" Asked my husband, sitting next to me on the bed. "Jocky, leave us be for a few minutes."

"Right you are sir." Said Jock, turning away and shutting the door behind him.

Just as he left, I burst into floods of tears and put my head in my hands.
"Shhh...shhh.ssshhh." Charlie shushed me, rubbing my back.
"What's the wrong pookie?"

"M-m-m-my f-f-favourite n-n-n-necklace has g-g-gone." I sobbed, into his chest.

"That one with the pink butterfly charm on it?" He asked curiously, but quite nervously.

"Hh-how do you know w-w-what necklace I said had gone? All I said was my favourite one had gone, I have loads of favourites."

"Guesses?" He replied nervously.

"Wait. What have you done with it?" I asked sharply, looking up at my husband.

He went quite pale at this question.

"Um...well... I sold it." He said nervously.

"You did what?" I shouted, jumping up, now seeing red.

"I auctioned it." He said again, clearer this time, bounding up off my bed.

"Why? That was given to me by my mother for my eleventh birthday."

"Well if it's that old, then you don't need it." He said, backing away.

That was the most damn ass cheeky response I'd ever heard.

That was it. I picked up the thick red hardback book that I was reading and aimed it at the middle of his chest.

"No pookie, don't." He worriedly covered his head with his arms.

I threw my book at him anyway. "That was more important to me than anything. Just because it's old, doesn't mean it's not important to me. Everything has worth, it's not all about money!" I shouted, throwing something at my husband with every word: vases, books, everything.

Objects flew across the room.

"Jocky?! Jocky?! Help!" He squealed like a five-year-old girl, as my black Dior handbag was aimed at his head.

"Sorry sir, this one's all yours." Said Jock poking his head around the door, before quickly closing it as an old cardboard box was thrown.

When I'd thrown every object I could lay my hands on, I walked towards my husband slowly and then grabbed him by his tie.

"Oh, that's your way of expressing your love for me is it?" He asked, pouting and trying to kiss me.

I yanked his tie further, so he was bending over, both of us at eye level.
"No, this is my way of expressing my anger," I growled. "Charlie Mortdecai, you are in some serious hot water."

I let go of him and he snapped back up to standing straight.
"Thank you for letting go of me, darling. Now guess how much I got for your necklace?"

Seriously? Did he not just hear the whole previous conversation we were having when I was yelling?!

I gave him a soft slap on his face (I was cross, but I didn't want to hurt him if you know what I mean). Though I still attempted a couple of punches.
"No-no-no. Now calm down. JOCKY!!!" He screamed.

Jock came in just in time to see my husband standing there in a daze before he sank to his knees and fainted.

"Do you want me to do anything?" Asked Jock, my husband Charlie lying at his feet.

"No," I said nonchalantly as though nothing had happened. "Just leave him there. Now I'm off to have my bath." I said, grabbing my bathrobe, stepping over the unconscious figure of my husband.

*****I hope you found this story funny and entertaining. If you have any requests just let me know. I'm always happy to do them.*********************