To Sail Beyond The Sunset

I rubbed Vaseline on her paws and got back to work. Princess Polly went to sleep on a pile of books. If she missed Susan, she didn't say so. She seemed willing to pig it with just one servant.

About one in the afternoon I was still sorting books and trying to decide whether to make do with a cold sandwich or go all out and open a can of tomato soup - when the front door chimed. Princess Polly looked up.

I said, ‘You're expecting someone? Susan, maybe?' I went to the door.

Not Susan. Donald and Priscilla.

‘Come in, darlings!' I opened the door wide. ‘Are you hungry? Have you had lunch?' I did not ask them any questions. There is a poem by Robert Frost, well known on that time line in that century, ‘The Death of the Hired Man', which contained this definition: ‘Home is the place that, when you have to go there, they have to take you in.' Two of my children had come home; they would tell me what they wished to tell me when they got around to it. I was simply glad that I had a house to let them into and that I still had bed clothes for them. Cat and children had not changed my plans - but those plans could wait. I was glad that I had not managed to clear out the day before, Monday the fourth - I would have missed all three. Tragic!

I got busy rustling up lunch for them - fancy cooking; I did open Campbell's tomato soup, two cans. ‘Let me see. We have quite a lot of not too stale cake left over from the reception, and a half-gallon of vanilla ice-cream that has not been opened. How much can you two eat?'

‘Plenty!'

‘Priss is right. We haven't eaten anything today.'

‘Oh, my goodness! Sit down. Let's get some soup into you fast, then we'll see what else you want. Or would you rather have breakfast things, seeing that this is breakfast for you? Bacon and eggs? Cereal?'

‘Anything,' answered my son. ‘If it's alive, I'll bite its head off.'

‘Behave yourself, Donnie,' said his sister. ‘We'll start with soup, Mama.'

While we were eating Priscilla said, ‘Why are the books piled all around, Mama?'

I explained that I was getting ready to dose the house, preparatory to selling it. My children exchanged looks; they both looked solemn, almost woebegone. I looked from face to face. ‘Take it easy,' I advised. ‘There is nothing to look sad about. I'm not faced with any deadlines and this is your home. Do you want to fill me in?'

Most of it was fairly obvious from their condition - dirty, tired, hungry, and broke. They had had some sort of trouble with their father and their stepmother and they had left Dallas ‘forever' - ‘But, Mama, this was before we knew that you were planning to sell this house. We'll have to find somewhere else to go... because Donnie and I are not going back there.'

‘Don't be in a hurry,' I said. ‘You are not out on the street.

I'm going to sell this house, yes - but we'll put another roof over our heads. This is the right time to sell this place because I let George Strong - he's in real estate - know that this place would be available once Susan was married. Hmm -‘ I went to the screen and punched up Harriman and Strong.

A woman's face came on screen. ‘Harriman and Strong, Investments. Harriman Enterprises. Allied Industries. How may I help you?'

‘I am Maureen Johnson. I would like to speak to Mr Harriman or to Mr Strong.'

‘Neither is available. You may record a message-scramble and bush are on line if needed. Or our Mr Watkins will speak to you:

‘No. Relay me to George Strong.'

‘I am sorry. Will you speak to Mr Watkins?'

‘No. Just get this message to Mr Strong: George, this is Maureen Johnson speaking. That parcel is now available, and I punched in to offer you first refusal as I promised. I have carried out my promise but I am going to deal today. So now I will call the J. C. Nichols Company.'

‘Will you hold, please?' Her face was replaced by a flower garden, her voice by a syrupy rendition of ‘In an Eighteenth Century Drawing-Room'.

George Strong's face came on. ‘Greetings, Mrs Johnson. Good to see you.'

‘Maureen to you, old dear. I called to say that I am moving. Now is the hour if you want to bid on it. Do you still want it?'

‘I can use it. Do you have a price in mind?'

‘Yes, certainly. Just twice what you are willing to pay.'

‘Well, that's a good start. Now we can dicker.'

‘Just a moment. George, I need another house, a smaller one. Three bedrooms, within walking distance of Southwest High. Got something like that?'

‘Probably. Or across the line and close to Shawnee Mission High. Want to swap?'

‘No, I'm planning to skin you on the deal. I want to lease by the year, automatic renewal unless notice given, ninety days.'

‘All right. Pick you up tomorrow morning? Ten o'clock? I want to look over your parcel, point out to - you its shortcomings and beat your price down.'

‘Ten o'clock, it is. Thank you, George.'

‘Always a pleasure, Maureen.'

Donald said, ‘Dallas phones are all tanks now. How come KC still uses flatties? Why don't they modernise?'

I answered, ‘Money. Donald, any question that starts out "Why don't they - " the answer is always "Money". But in this case I can offer more details. The Dallas try-out turns out not to be cost-effective and the 3-D tanks will be phased out. For the full story see the Wall Street journal. The back issues for the past quarter are stacked in the library. It's a six-part series, front page.'

Tm sorry I brought it up. They can use smoke signals for all of me.'

‘Be glad you brought it up and make use of the opportunity I offered you. Donald, if you intend to cope with the jungle out there, you need to make the Wall Street journal and similar publications such as The Economist your favourite comic books.' I added, ‘Ice-cream and cake?'

I put Priscilla into Susan's room, and Donald into the room Patrick had had, just beyond my bath. We went to bed early. About midnight I woke up, then got up to pee, not bothering with a light, as there was moonlight streaming in. I was about to flush the pot when I heard an unmistakable rhythmic sound - bed squeaks. Suddenly I was goose-flesh all over.

Priss and Donnie had left here almost as babies, two and four years old; they probably didn't realise that this old house was about as well soundproofed as a tent. Oh, dear! Those poor children.

I kept very quiet. The rhythm speeded up. Then I heard Priscilla start to keen and Donald to grunt. Shortly the squeaks stopped and they both sighed. I heard Priscilla say, ‘I needed that. Thanks, Donnie.'

I was proud of her. But it was time for me to hurry - much as I hated to, I must catch them in. the act. Or I couldn't help them.

Seconds later I tapped on Donald's door. ‘Darlings? May I come in?'

Chapter 19 - Cats and Children

It was after one o'clock before I left the children; it had taken that long to convince them that I was not angry, that I was on their side, that my only concern was to sec that they did not get hurt - because what they were doing was exceptionally dangerous in all sorts of ways, some of which I was sure they knew but some of which they, may not know about or had at least not thought about.

When I had gone in to see them, I had not grabbed a robe. Instead I had gone in as I was, bare naked, because a fully dressed authority figure such as a parent, walking in on two children caught in delectable flagrente, is all too likely to scare it out of them - cause bladder and bowel to cut loose. But another human as naked and vulnerable as they were themselves simply could not be a ‘cop'. As Father had taught me years earlier, to know which way the frog will jump, you have to put yourself in the frog's place.