then regretted it. This cursed facetiousness!
‘We never put our cat out at night,’ said Baggy. ‘Your grandmother didn’t hold with it. Of course you don’t remember her.’
‘Indeed I do,’ said Dickon. ‘And I remember the cat, too. It was a very fine cat.’ He added hastily, though he barely remembered his paternal grandmother, ‘And grandmother was a dear old lady.’
Baggy never thought of his wife as an old lady. Of course she’d have been one by now. It would be interesting to move her on in his mind, try to see her as she’d be if she’d lived. He would think about it on his walk tomorrow. That wasn’t the kind of thing he let himself think of at night; too apt to keep one awake.
Prue said, ‘You should have television in here.’
‘No need,’ said Baggy. ‘I can watch it in the Long Room if I want to. Not much of interest these days.’
‘You used to be so fond of it,’ said Prue, remembering many evenings when she had watched it with him – and the sound had had to be up louder than she could have wished.
‘Seems to have gone off. Your aunt and uncle seldom watch it and I can’t say I blame them.’
Prue thought, he’d like it all right if he watched with someone. Perhaps she ought to give her father and mother a hint. But they did deserve a rest from Baggy, after years of insisting he should have his favourite programmes, most of which her father detested. She said brightly, ‘You’ve your own bathroom now, haven’t you? What luxury! I don’t think I’ve seen it.’
Baggy opened the bathroom door.
‘Oh, what a lovely bathroom,’ said Prue. ‘Dickon, come and look at the nice white tiles. And so tidy! Very different from our old bathroom, Baggy.’
‘Still, that was a good bathroom,’ said Baggy defensively, feeling a wave of nostalgia for his nightly soak in it. He had always refrained from taking a morning bath, leaving the coast clear forthe rest of the family. But after ten o’clock in the evening he felt he could take his time as all the bedrooms were fitted with wash-basins. Unfortunately they were not also fitted with loos, as Prue happened to be remembering. How often had she sat in her bedroom wondering how long, oh Lord, Baggy would go on soaking.
‘Oh, I remember that bathroom,’ said Dickon. ‘It was like a junk shop, what with all Prue’s old bath toys.’
‘I suppose Mother threw those out before she moved,’ said Prue, without regret.
Baggy had regretted them and still did. Indeed, he had a sudden wild idea that a couple of plastic ducks might do something for this hygienic, repellent bathroom. Woolworth’s, perhaps? Absurd, of course. He must be in his second childhood.
Prue continued, ‘Anyway, it must be marvellous to be able to have a bath any time one wants to. I’d probably have three a day.’
Baggy, nowadays, took a brisk morning bath purely for the sake of cleanliness. He had only once tried a bath at night, when the white tiles under the brilliant strip-lighting had made him feel more in cold storage than in warm water.
He led the way back to his bed-sitting-room and invited them to sit down, wondering what to say next. He was surprised that he should find it difficult to talk to his grandchildren, especially Prue, who had lived in the same house with him for so many years.
Dickon, in a mature tone, said, ‘Well, I take it that the move to the country is paying good dividends.’
‘Yes, it seems to be giving pleasure,’ said Baggy.
‘I expect you’re enjoying Aunt May’s cooking,’ said Prue.
‘Yes, excellent, excellent.’ But Baggy sometimes thought it a mistake to have such good food at every meal; it eliminated the possibility of occasional treats. He added now, with both politeness and truth. ‘Your mother used to do some very tasty little suppers.’
‘Oh, she still does those. Nice things on toast.’
Baggy and Prue enumerated these until they couldn’t think of any more. Dickon racked his brains for some
‘We never put our cat out at night,’ said Baggy. ‘Your grandmother didn’t hold with it. Of course you don’t remember her.’
‘Indeed I do,’ said Dickon. ‘And I remember the cat, too. It was a very fine cat.’ He added hastily, though he barely remembered his paternal grandmother, ‘And grandmother was a dear old lady.’
Baggy never thought of his wife as an old lady. Of course she’d have been one by now. It would be interesting to move her on in his mind, try to see her as she’d be if she’d lived. He would think about it on his walk tomorrow. That wasn’t the kind of thing he let himself think of at night; too apt to keep one awake.
Prue said, ‘You should have television in here.’
‘No need,’ said Baggy. ‘I can watch it in the Long Room if I want to. Not much of interest these days.’
‘You used to be so fond of it,’ said Prue, remembering many evenings when she had watched it with him – and the sound had had to be up louder than she could have wished.
‘Seems to have gone off. Your aunt and uncle seldom watch it and I can’t say I blame them.’
Prue thought, he’d like it all right if he watched with someone. Perhaps she ought to give her father and mother a hint. But they did deserve a rest from Baggy, after years of insisting he should have his favourite programmes, most of which her father detested. She said brightly, ‘You’ve your own bathroom now, haven’t you? What luxury! I don’t think I’ve seen it.’
Baggy opened the bathroom door.
‘Oh, what a lovely bathroom,’ said Prue. ‘Dickon, come and look at the nice white tiles. And so tidy! Very different from our old bathroom, Baggy.’
‘Still, that was a good bathroom,’ said Baggy defensively, feeling a wave of nostalgia for his nightly soak in it. He had always refrained from taking a morning bath, leaving the coast clear forthe rest of the family. But after ten o’clock in the evening he felt he could take his time as all the bedrooms were fitted with wash-basins. Unfortunately they were not also fitted with loos, as Prue happened to be remembering. How often had she sat in her bedroom wondering how long, oh Lord, Baggy would go on soaking.
‘Oh, I remember that bathroom,’ said Dickon. ‘It was like a junk shop, what with all Prue’s old bath toys.’
‘I suppose Mother threw those out before she moved,’ said Prue, without regret.
Baggy had regretted them and still did. Indeed, he had a sudden wild idea that a couple of plastic ducks might do something for this hygienic, repellent bathroom. Woolworth’s, perhaps? Absurd, of course. He must be in his second childhood.
Prue continued, ‘Anyway, it must be marvellous to be able to have a bath any time one wants to. I’d probably have three a day.’
Baggy, nowadays, took a brisk morning bath purely for the sake of cleanliness. He had only once tried a bath at night, when the white tiles under the brilliant strip-lighting had made him feel more in cold storage than in warm water.
He led the way back to his bed-sitting-room and invited them to sit down, wondering what to say next. He was surprised that he should find it difficult to talk to his grandchildren, especially Prue, who had lived in the same house with him for so many years.
Dickon, in a mature tone, said, ‘Well, I take it that the move to the country is paying good dividends.’
‘Yes, it seems to be giving pleasure,’ said Baggy.
‘I expect you’re enjoying Aunt May’s cooking,’ said Prue.
‘Yes, excellent, excellent.’ But Baggy sometimes thought it a mistake to have such good food at every meal; it eliminated the possibility of occasional treats. He added now, with both politeness and truth. ‘Your mother used to do some very tasty little suppers.’
‘Oh, she still does those. Nice things on toast.’
Baggy and Prue enumerated these until they couldn’t think of any more. Dickon racked his brains for some