by Heide Goody
Michael gave it some thought before answering
"Even though I'll never have children of my own, I had the idea I might influence and develop this group. I have so much to share. Trouble is they're a complete mystery to me."
"Can't really help you there Michael, no experience of kids, and I certainly won't be having any."
"No?"
"No. All you can do is make the best of things in the here and now."
"That reminds me," said Michael, pulling out his phone. "My prediction app said to me When I was a child, I spoke like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I gave up childish ways. What do you suppose it meant?"
"Wow, your phone really said that to you?"
"It’s just this app I wrote."
Michael took out his phone and opened the G-sez app.
"Impressive," said Andy. "Did you ask it about children?"
"No, it doesn't work that way, you just get a daily prediction," Michael said.
"Hang on," said Andy, taking out his own phone and bringing up the app store. "So it sort of collates all the horoscopes about you in one place."
"Not just horoscopes. It uses any relevant fortune-telling data."
"Just downloading it now," said Andy, fiddling with his own phone.
"It does have an accuracy of ninety eight point seven per cent though."
"You mean it actually tells you your fortune?"
"I guess."
"Wait. Look. You’re not charging for it."
"Should I? It’s just a little app."
"Oh, you really should, you know. You don't need to ask for a lot, but you should get something back to cover maintenance and so on. People will get disappointed if you don't keep it up to date."
"I suppose you're right," said Michael slowly. "Maybe that would be a good idea. By the way, what was your G-Sez?"
Andy looked at his screen.
"See, I am sending an angel ahead of you to guard you along the way and to bring you to the place I have prepared. What does that mean?"
Michael blushed.
"I have absolutely no idea. Must be a glitch."
Michael eventually found Clovenhoof and the cubs. Paramedics were carrying stretchers out of the large gallery room and several Japanese people were sitting on chairs being treated for cuts and grazes. Museum staff were hastily erecting a barrier around a large iron exhibit that was oddly buckled in the centre.
"What on earth has happened here?" Michael asked.
"It seems as though a tour group got confused," said Clovenhoof. "They thought that this exhibit was for audience participation. It broke when they were all climbing on that top bit, right up there."
"Strange that they should think that even though there's a sign there saying that people shouldn't touch it?"
"Yeah? Maybe someone was standing in front of it or something," Clovenhoof offered.
"Did the cubs see this happen?" asked Michael.
"Yes, but I think they're all right. Not too traumatised," said Clovenhoof.
Michael looked over to the group of boys who seemed to be gleefully comparing mobile phone footage of the collapse.
"Maybe it's time we got them back to Boldmere. Tell me Jeremy, as someone who's older than everything in this museum, at what age do you think you'll give up childish things?"
Clovenhoof gave him a grin.
"There's only one childish thing that's worth giving up, Mickey."
"Oh, really? What's that?"
"Celibacy," said Clovenhoof giving an enthusiastic pelvic thrust by way of demonstration. "Have you worked out all the stuff your thing can do yet?"
~ooOOOoo~
Nerys poured Jayne a glass of wine as soon as she sat down in the flat.
"How was the date?" asked Nerys.
"It wasn’t a date but I'm exhausted," said Jayne.
"By what? Ben didn’t really ravish you among the Flemish Masters, did he?"
"Cubs," said Jayne. "I know I didn't have to look after the cubs, but they make you tired just watching them."
She sipped wine and leaned back, eyes closed, happy to be away from the restless green menaces that had accompanied them back in the minibus.
"I think they learned a lot from the museum. Not sure how, but they've picked up some Japanese. They were practising it on the way home."
"Well, as long as you brought back the same number of cubs as you started with then I'd consider it a win," said Nerys. "Particularly when Jeremy’s involved."
Nerys smoothed a snowy white cloth over the table and got out Molly's best cutlery.
"But, yes, I think it went well," said Jayne. "Ben and I spent the longest time in the tea room. What a nice chap he is."
"Don’t ever tell him that."
"What?"
"'You’re a nice chap' sounds like the most awful back-handed insult."
"Well, he is a nice chap. We might pop out for tea and cake again someday."
"As long as you're not too full of cake to turn down a delicious home-made meal," Nerys said.
She set down a pair of steaming plates on the table.
"I've made Hunter's chicken with sauté potatoes and a side salad," she said.
"Nerys," said Jayne, surprised. "This looks really tasty. You've gone to a lot of trouble."
She sat down and inhaled appreciatively. She started to eat and then noticed that Nerys was looking at her.
"What?" she asked.
"What?" said Nerys.
"You’re looking at me."
"Am I?"
"What’s going on?"
"Nothing." Nerys topped up Jayne’s wine glass. "I just thought you might like to relax after an afternoon with that lot."
Jayne took a sip.
"There was one thing," Nerys said carefully.
"Oh, so there is something."
"The solicitors called today about the flat."
"What did they say?" Jayne asked, putting down her cutlery.
"They have the original will. Apparently the one that I've got is only a copy, so theirs is the legal one."
"And?"
"It says that the flat goes to me. My name's on it."
Jayne stared at her plate for a long moment, processing this new information.
"Oh. I see," she said.
It was strange. Jayne had not consciously imagined that the will would say anything different but it was clear from her own reaction that some hidden part of her mind had been clinging to some fantasy that the will would provide for her too and give her an escape route from the grimness of life in her mother’s shadow. She knew in her heart that the flat wasn't hers, but it had seemed as though while there was a shred of doubt, then anything might be possible. She looked up to see Nerys smiling at her.
"You think this is funny!" she said.
"What? No, of course not," said Nerys.
"Why are you grinning like a Cheshire cat then?"
"Can't you see I'm trying to be comforting."
"I don't believe it!" yelled Jayne, standing up and slapping the table. "You're actually enjoying this!"
She was suddenly furious and all the more furious because she knew that she had little right to be angry at all.
"Calm down Jayne. You're being a bit silly," said Nerys.
"Silly! You're calling me silly? I'll tell you what's silly. Silly is lording it over the rest of your family just because you've inherited a stupid tatty flat in the arse end of Birmingham. I mean look at this place, it looks more like a rest home with its old lady furniture, its knitted cushions-"
Jayne took a breath and cast around for fresh inspiration, but Nerys advanced on her, eyes alight with fury.
"Oh no you don’t. Don’t you dare bring Aunt Molly into this. There’s a very good reason it looks like an old lady’s place, and that’s because it was, or had you forgotten her already?"
"No."
"Oh? You make me sick coming up here with some half-baked plan for pinching this place from under my nose so that y
ou can get away from mom."
"That’s not true!"
"You want to start acting like a sulky child when you can’t get your own way? Fine. Just remember though that your best chance of getting out of there is Glyn Pettigrew, and that’s a measure of just how desperate your life has become."
"That’s really uncalled for!"
"My life looks pretty damn good when you compare it to yours, don’t you think?"
~ooOOOoo~
Clovenhoof relaxed on his sofa, swigging Lambrini from the bottle. He had a handful of voicemail messages to respond to after leaving his phone off for a few hours. The messages might have been intended for Molly but Clovenhoof was only too happy to phone back and relay those important messages he was sure Molly wanted to send.
"Averill? Yes, love it's me, just ringing back. You wanted to know about bingo? They have sessions here in Heaven, three times a week."
Clovenhoof listened for a moment.
"Oh, yes, they have the pens you like, not those crappy dabbers. It's Heaven, isn't it? Must go, Richard Burton's popping round for a game of Twister."
He thumbed some more buttons and waited.
"Mavis? Hello, dearie. Now, I definitely wouldn't worry about vomiting on your daughter-in-law's carpet, Heaven understands the delicate nature of your constitution. Anyway, it's well-known up here that she's a terrible cook. In fact, you might want to tell her that. She'll be grateful in the long run."
He took a long slurp from the bottle as Mavis spoke.
"Attagirl. You're right, he definitely could have done better. Ciao Mavis."
One more. He burped happily as the call rang out.
"Cybil? It's me. Now that was an interesting voicemail that you left. Did you really say that you'd been ravished on the allotment? Tell me all about it."
Clovenhoof listened very carefully for the sordid details.
"Radishes?" he said. "Radishes! Oh for crying out loud woman, call back when you've got some real news, will you?"
He shook his head.
The last message was from G-Sez. Michael had told him that his phone was too old to run an application, but he’d set up Clovenhoof’s details so that the server would push out his predictions as daily text messages. He opened it up to see what it had to say.
We are happy when we are growing.
"Hippy poetry quotes?" said Clovenhoof aloud. "Arsehole. Why would I be interested in growth? Apart from the expansion of my giant, throbbing member, obviously."
He stalked up and down, thrusting his groin in time to an invisible beat. Then he stopped, realisation dawning.
"Is this about radishes?" he yelled at the floor. "Are you taking the piss? How have you made the computer mock me, you feathery twat?"
He spent some time jumping off the sofa onto the floor, in the hope that he might dislodge some pieces of plaster in Michael’s ceiling.
~ooOOOoo~
Ben answered the door to the insistent battering sound and found Jayne on the threshold. Her face was tracked with tears.
"Hi," he said.
Jayne sniffed loudly.
Ben knew that this was one of those moments when he should really have a clean linen handkerchief to offer. He patted his pockets, even though he knew he didn’t have one.
"Er, come in. I’ll go and get you a piece of kitchen roll," he said.
"Thank you."
He passed her some tissue paper. She looked at it and then noisily blew her nose.
"It’s Post Traumatic Stress Disorder," said Ben.
"Sorry?" she said.
"I had a little weep after my first experience with the cubs."
She smiled despite her tear. "I need to get out of here."
"If I knew you were coming over I’d have hoovered, I swear."
"Any chance you’d come out for a drink with me?"
Ben didn’t get offers like that very often and he was momentarily torn.
"That would be a bit tricky to be honest."
"Just down to the Boldmere Oak."
"I’m sort of in the middle of something."
Ben indicated the half-painted array of miniature lead soldiers on the table as he ripped off some tissue for Jayne.
She blew her nose again and sat down to take a look.
"What are they?"
"Seleucidian miniatures."
"Who?"
"The Seleucid Empire was created when Alexander the Great died and his empire was carved up. The Seleucids were one of the last strongholds of Greek culture before their ultimate colonisation by the Romans."
"I did not know that," said Jayne.
"I order these miniatures bare like this from the supplier and then paint them up in the way I want them to be."
Jayne peered through the large magnifying glass that was clamped to the edge of the table. Ben looked over her shoulder. Any moment now, she’d tell him to get a life and come to the pub. Some of his wargaming friends had been known to snag a woman from time to time. It was a well-known fact that their hobby would take a back seat when they did. It was always a slow process, insidious and subtle, like some invasive cancer. Women simply didn’t appreciate the hobby and it was for reasons that were a mystery to them all.
"Lovely detail," she said, as she studied the work in progress.
"Thank you."
"It reminds me of when I was a girl," she said. "My dad’s always had hobbies. He likes to be busy doing something and I’d always sit with him. It was usually in his shed, back in the days before he permanently moved in there. He’s an ancient history and mythology nut."
"Sounds like a nice guy."
Jayne nodded.
"Even if he was absorbed in what he was doing I’d sit in the room and read my book. It was lovely and relaxing just being there while he worked. Ben, can I sit here while you do your painting?"
"Er, yeah, sure."
"Maybe you can tell me about what you do with them?"
"Yes, okay," said Ben and then stopped. "Hang on. Just to clarify. You really want to hear about wargaming miniatures?"
"Yes, if it’s okay."
"It’s okay. It’s just unusual. I don’t think that’s ever happened before."
One hour later, Jayne’s tears had long dried, and Ben found he couldn’t keep the smile off his face. A chance to talk to someone who seemed interested in his hobby was almost unheard of. He made them both a cup of tea and sat beside Jayne on the settee.
"Feeling better?" he said.
She nodded and made a noise like a happy cat.
"All I’ve done is talked about soldiers," he said.
She shrugged.
"Admittedly," he said, "it’s quite nice that someone’s here to listen to me just for once."
"It’s not just that," said Jayne. "You talk with such passion. I can tell this is something that you really love."
"I suppose I do."
"And it’s wonderful to see you come alive when you’re talking."
"Come alive?"
"Oh yes. You should let that side of your nature show more often," said Jayne.
"What side?"
"The passionate side. The romantic side."
She caught his eye and his heart raced as her gaze dropped slightly. As if propelled by an unseen hand, he found himself leaning in to kiss her. His mind screamed at his impulsiveness. What if she pulled away? What if she slapped him?
Ben’s racing mind was pulled up short as she not only kissed him back but her hand came up to caress the back of his head.
"Now, what were your words the other day?" she said as they broke. "’Sort of nice’?"
"More than nice," said Ben.
"You’d better believe it," she said and he kissed her again.
She ran her hands across his shoulder.
"I’m a terrible person," she said.
"No, you’re not," he said.
"You’ve no idea what I’m thinking right now."
"No…"
"Have you got an iron and an ironing boar
d," she said.
"What?" Ben said in a hushed squeak, his mind full of incoherent images of sadistic sexual practices involving hot irons.
Jayne brushed her hand over his T-shirt.
"Let me get the creases out of this for you."
~ooOOOoo~
"Make a blog entry Little G," said Michael.
"Yes, Michael," said the computer.
"I have learned some interesting lessons today. Children cannot be relied upon to stay still or behave in a predictable way, much in the same way as the Adversary. It is a huge challenge to instil education and positive values within them , and yet I find myself still striving to do so.
"The museum was a fascinating place. It was filled with pictures that inspire or challenge me in ways that I don't fully understand. Admiring the physical form of humans as the pinnacle of God's creation is a wholesome and fulfilling pastime, but one that appears to provoke anger and confusion unless it is called art.
"I feel that somehow this is intertwined with the complexity of human sexuality. I find the subject impenetrable, and few humans are able or willing to speak with clarity on the subject.
"I believe that my G-sez prediction is suggesting that I should explore the difference between child and man. Does this refer to carnal love? I am really not sure how to do this, but I will maintain an open mind and continue to learn what I can from my stay here on earth."
Michael paused to review the text that had appeared on the screen. Was it a little confused? Well that was to be expected.
"Little G, can you tell me the status of G-Sez, since we made it chargeable? Are people still downloading it?"
"Yes Michael," the computer replied. "There have been two thousand and fifty downloads today."
Michael stared in surprise at the screen.
"Interesting phenomenon," he said. "It must be the cute picture. I'm sure it won't last. Good night Little G."
He turned off the monitor and gave the teddy bear an affectionate squeeze on the way to bedroom. Michael climbed under the covers and closed his eyes but sleep would not come. It had been a strange day, filled with incidents, but one image kept returning to his mind. Well, two blurred and overlapping images: that painting of the Greek charioteer with the divine body and the equally sublime musculature of the young fellow, Andy.
