Norm nodded; he understood perfectly. Only the dolls themselves mattered. And now, for the first time, he saw Connie Companion doll.
She was being placed in her bedroom by Mr. Foster who evidently was in charge of her. And the sight of her took his breath away. Yes, she was older. A grown woman, not a girl at all… the difference between her and Perky Pat was acute. And so life-like. Carved, not poured; she obviously had been whittled out of wood and then painted – she was not a thermoplastic. And her hair. It appeared to be genuine hair.
He was deeply impressed.
"What do you think of her?" Walter Wynn asked, with a faint grin.
"Very – impressive," Norm conceded.
Now the Oaklanders were studying Perky Pat. "Poured thermoplastic," one of them said. "Artificial hair. Nice clothes, though; all stitched by hand, you can see that. Interesting; what we heard was correct. Perky Pat isn't a grownup, she's just a teenager."
Now the male companion to Connie appeared; he was set down in the bedroom beside Connie.
"Wait a minute," Norm said. "You're putting Paul or whatever his name is, in her bedroom with her? Doesn't he have his own apartment?"
Wynn said, "They're married."
"Married!" Norman and Fran stared at him, dumbfounded.
"Why sure," Wynn said. "So naturally they live together. Your dolls, they're not, are they?"
"N-no," Fran said. "Leonard is Perky Pat's boy friend…" Her voice trailed off. "Norm," she said, clutching his arm, "I don't believe him; I think he's just saying they're married to get the advantage. Because if they both start out from the same room -"
Norm said aloud, "You fellows, look here. It's not fair, calling them married."
Wynn said, "We're not 'calling' them married; they are married. Their names are Connie and Paul Lathrope, of 24 Arden Place, Piedmont. They've been married for a year, most players will tell you." He sounded calm.
Maybe, Norm thought, it's true. He was truly shaken.
"Look at them together," Fran said, kneeling down to examine the Oaklanders' layout. "In the same bedroom, in the same house. Why, Norm; do you see? There's just the one bed. A big double bed." Wild-eyed, she appealed to him. "How can Perky Pat and Leonard play against them?" Her voice shook. "It's not morally right."
"This is another type of layout entirely," Norm said to Walter Wynn. "This, that you have. Utterly different from what we're used to, as you can see." He pointed to his own layout. "I insist that in this game Connie and Paul not live together and not be considered married."
"But they are," Foster spoke up. "It's a fact. Look – their clothes are in the same closet." He showed them the closet. "And in the same bureau drawers." He showed them that, too. "And look in the bathroom. Two toothbrushes. His and hers, in the same rack. So you can see we're not making it up."
There was silence.
Then Fran said in a choked voice, "And if they're married – you mean they've been – intimate?"
Wynn raised an eyebrow, then nodded. "Sure, since they're married. Is there anything wrong with that?"
"Perky Pat and Leonard have never -" Fran began, and then ceased.
"Naturally not," Wynn agreed. "Because they're only going together. We understand that."
Fran said, "We just can't play. We can't." She caught hold of her husband's arm. "Let's go back to Pinole pit – please, Norman."
"Wait," Wynn said, at once. "If you don't play, you're conceding; you have to give up Perky Pat."
The three Oaklanders all nodded. And, Norm saw, many of the Berkeley flukers were nodding, too, including Ben Fennimore.
"They're right," Norm said heavily to his wife. "We'd have to give her up. We better play, dear."
"Yes," Fran said, in a dead, flat voice. "We'll play." She bent down and listlessly spun the needle of the spinner. It stopped at six.
Smiling, Walter Wynn knelt down and spun. He obtained a four.
The game had begun.
Crouching behind the strewn, decayed contents of a care parcel that had been dropped long ago, Timothy Schein saw coming across the surface of ash his mother and father, pushing the wheelbarrow ahead of them. They looked tired and worn.
"Hi," Timothy yelled, leaping out at them in joy at seeing them again; he had missed them very much.
"Hi, son," his father murmured, nodding. He let go of the handles of the wheelbarrow, then halted and wiped his face with his handkerchief.
Now Fred Chamberlain raced up, panting. "Hi, Mr. Schein; hi, Mrs. Schein. Hey, did you win? Did you beat the Oakland flukers? I bet you did, didn't you?" He looked from one of them to the other and then back.
In a low voice Fran said, "Yes, Freddy. We won."
Norm said, "Look in the wheelbarrow."
The two boys looked. And, there among Perky Pat's furnishings, lay another doll. Larger, fuller-figured, much older than Pat… they stared at her and she stared up sightlessly at the gray sky overhead. So this is Connie Companion doll, Timothy said to himself. Gee.
"We were lucky," Norm said. Now several people had emerged from the pit and were gathering around them, listening. Jean and Sam Regan, Tod Morrison and his wife Helen, and now their Mayor, Hooker Glebe himself, waddling up excited and nervous, his face flushed, gasping for breath from the labor – unusual for him – of ascending the ramp.
Fran said,"We got a cancellation of debts card, just when we were most behind. We owed fifty thousand, and it made us even with the Oakland flukers. And then, after that, we got an advance ten squares card, and that put us right on the jackpot square, at least in our layout. We had a very bitter squabble, because the Oaklanders showed us that on their layout it was a tax lien slapped on real estate holdings square, but we had spun an odd number so that put us back on our own board." She sighed. "I'm glad to be back. It was hard, Hooker; it was a tough game."
Hooker Glebe wheezed, "Let's all get a look at the Connie Companion doll, folks." To Fran and Norm he said, "Can I lift her up and show them?"
"Sure," Norm said, nodding.
Hooker picked up Connie Companion doll. "She sure is realistic," he said, scrutinizing her. "Clothes aren't as nice as ours generally are; they look machine-made."
"They are," Norm agreed. "But she's carved, not poured."
"Yes, so I see." Hooker turned the doll about, inspecting her from all angles. "A nice job. She's – um, more filled-out than Perky Pat. What's this outfit she has on? Tweed suit of some sort."
"A business suit," Fran said. "We won that with her; they had agreed on that in advance."
"You see, she has a job," Norm explained. "She's a psychology consultant for a business firm doing marketing research. In consumer preferences. A high-paying position… she earns twenty thousand a year, I believe Wynn said."
"Golly," Hooker said. "And Pat's just going to college; she's still in school." He looked troubled. "Well, I guess they were bound to be ahead of us in some ways. What matters is that you won." His jovial smile returned. "Perky Pat came out ahead." He held the Connie Companion doll up high, where everyone could see her. "Look what Norm and Fran came back with, folks!"
Norm said, "Be careful with her, Hooker." His voice was firm.
"Eh?" Hooker said, pausing. "Why, Norm?"
"Because," Norm said, "she's going to have a baby."
There was a sudden chill silence. The ash around them stirred faintly; that was the only sound.
"How do you know?" Hooker asked.