When we returned from chasing after Spikey,
who spat at us three just as we had all expected, and who almost bit me because
I reproached him for it, we left Candle with her grandmother in the kitchen of
Gentle House, since she was hopping mad with Spikey, whom she now regarded as
an ungrateful wretch, and didn’t care to confront Uncle Gen just then in case
he said he had told her so and she couldn’t take that and would kick him in the
shin.
Aunt Mabel went straight to the gallery where
her husband was having afternoon tea and began scolding Uncle Gen, just as she
had been mumbling she would do all the while we were away.
“How could you even think of taking two
babies to the McDonald Islands on an
empty stomach?”
“There must be a McDonald’s there, don’t you
think? It sounds like there should be, no? Now they have food for vegetarians.”
“Why do you interfere? Do as your father does
and turn a blind eye!”
“Ah, he doesn't turn a blind eye when he sees a chance to foil me. That girl is very little, even if she is a
shrew,” Uncle Gen justified himself.
“Impose the social contract on a two-year-old!
You’ve busted Candle’s friendship with the Prickly. Are you happy now?”
“That was no friendship. She only wanted to
dominate him.”
“And you have liberated him, or what?”
“No. That kid only put up with her because he
wanted to bleed her. He’s a leech. Even so, I only wanted her to see it’s not
easy to raise a kid.”
“How can you know? You never paid any
attention to ours.”
“Because our daughters have their own
interests. Neither you nor I could ever have led them into a library. Only Nicky
Sweetquill can make them read books. Kids have a will of their own. And some
kids have nasty dispositions from day one. Let me tell you something. That
Spikey and I had already had a showdown before he pretended to befriend Candle.
Brightfire and I were having coffee and doughnuts one fine day outside his
forge when the imp appeared hanging from a tree. He asked us to treat him to a
doughnut, and we were going to, but we asked him first who his parents were in
case they had an objection. The kid spat at us both. Then Fi wanted to treat
him to a puff in the face. And I had to hold Fi back.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake! Tempest and fire
against a three-month-old babe!”
“Laugh, if you will. But consider that if I
had had to drench Fi to restrain him from charring the kid, Fi would have
boiled me. That kid almost got us to quarrel among ourselves. I’m sick and
tired of clashing with Pricklies. There is nothing that can be done about them.
They are indomitable and that is that. The only one who knows how to deal with
them is Evenfall. He lends them a hand when they allow him to and lets them do
as they please when they please. Believe me, Mabel, that horrid kid would have
caused us no end of problems. Us includes his mother. I mean, that includes
Candle. It’s best he’s gone. She knows it is. She’s smart. I’m sure she has
already understood this.”
“And this cute doggie?” asked Aunt Mabel, for
Crispin was licking her ankles.
“That is Crispin. He belonged to the
Brightfires. But now he wants to be ours.”
“But…well! Not only do you separate Candle
from an inconvenient friend, you also steal the little girl’s doggie.
Seriously, Gen?”
“Certainly not! Here animals are free to
choose whom they wish to belong to! And this dog prefers me, because I call him
by his rightful name, which is Crispin, and not by an inadequate nickname. What
is Sparky about this dog? And he will love you too, Mabel, because today you
are acting strung up, but normally you are as flat as he is now. Crispin only
wants to live in peace. And that’s not possible at my brother’s place. This dog
is a herder. He was made to look after others and keep them safe. He is always
on the look out for possible dangers. And it is his nature to protect his own,
be they cows or sheep or other dogs or his fairy people. At Fi’s everyone is
always boggled or in distress. Where is
that kid? Why are you burning the curtains? The roof has flown off! The fridge has exploded! My hair is on fire!
And now I rant spectacularly because I feel like raving! No wonder Crispin
is worn out. Not to worry, Mabel, I will compensate my nieces and nephews. I’ll
find them a truculent dog that will bark louder than they do and frighten
intruders away before they or someone else gets scalded. After all, aren’t dogs
supposed to resemble their owners?”
“You are saying I married a corgi? I will
leave you for impossible too, my dear,” said Aunt Mabel. “Agapeton!” she called
out and her black labrador retirever, who had been lying quietly under the
table, came up to her. “Do you think we should invite this corgi to live with
us, Agapeton?”
Agapeton nodded, though his head was a little lopsided from lying for hours on the same side, and the matter was happily clinched.
“Arley had better have tea with you, Gen. He
has to be famished. Did the green soup upset your stomach, Arley? Is grass
boiled in salty water safe to eat, Gen?”
“I’m not sure. I don’t like chlorophyll or
too much salt in my food. I prefer vitamin C and sugar,” answered Uncle Gen. “Go
ahead, Arley, serve yourself some tea with lemon. Equal parts of tea and lemonade,
that’s how I like it, and the sugar is already in that. And start by eating
those cheese and tomato sandwiches I just made, more stuff is due from Granny and
her kitchen.”
“Listen, Gen, tomorrow me must send a load of
food to the Munificents, so they can do whatever they please with it,” Aunt
Mabel interrupted Uncle Gen.
“I already did that,” said my uncle, “as
soon as I got here.”
After tea, Uncle Gen and I went out to the
garden for a walk.
“I want to find the tree Melissa was born in,”
said my uncle. “I have to speak with the bees that adopted her. I’ve already
spoken with your mother. My idea is to move that tree with its beehives and all
to one of Titania’s gardens, one that she has ceded to Melissa so the child can
play at being a gardener. Bees are very useful creatures, and I don’t want Melissa to get out of touch with
her bee relatives. Not everyone can get along well with bees. It’s an advantage
the child has, and should keep.”
“Those beehives probably produce good honey.
You will lose a useful tree.”
“I didn’t even know it was there. Had I
known, I think I would have discovered Melissa the day she was born.”
It pleased the bees to move to Mum’s palace
and we were able to take the tree to Melissa’s garden. The child and the bees
were very happy to be together again. So all was right. Mum invited Uncle Gen
to dinner and he accepted her invitation but said we first had to drop by his
father-in-law´s golf course to speak with the Peach Boys. It would only take a
moment.
The Peach Boy Five are quintuplets, sons of a
sister of Belvedere the Mnemosinite and a Japanese bewitching spirit who is a
poet and a manufacturer of fine paper. We call him Momo San, meaning, we
believe, Honorable Mr. Peach. Momo San was a guest at my Name Day Party and he gave me a writing
set and a great big lacquered document box with one hundred and thirteen sheets
of paper of different sizes and colours, all exigent. Exigent paper is paper
that won’t allow anyone to write, draw, paint or print something that is not
excellent in its way on it. A curious poem, an exquisite drawing, that yes.
Vulgar or indecorous stuff, never. It can be a rather cross and unfriendly censor, but it does push one to do one's best.
Momo San is usually quiet, because he has a
problem that is similar to Uncle Brightfire’s. Neither of these two men can
communicate easily. Uncle Fi doesn’t speak to certain people because he can’t
avoid using profanity or expressing opinions that are not popular. Momo San
speaks seventeen languages but can barely be understood in any of them. This is
so because the man cannot regulate the tone of his voice. He either shouts like
crazy, frightening people, who flee as fast as they can from him, or whispers
so softly that most folks can’t make out a word he is saying. They become
impatient, and leave him to himself as soon as is politely possible. However,
Momo San and I understand each other pretty well, for I can boast of having as
fine an ear as moths have. Even so, we do make some use of sign language and
face-making to communicate.
For some reason, Momo San can speak clearly and sweetly
to his wife, who is the only one who can live with him. Such is the power of
true love, I suppose. But their kids moved next door, to their Uncle Belvedere’s
house, to be more comfortable. That is, to Mabel’s father’s home. Mabel’s
grandparents gave their five children an enormous lot of land in Apple Island.
In the middle of it, the Memorion built his ideal house. One of his four
sisters built hers north of it, another south, a third west and the fourth,
Momo San’s wife, built hers east of her brother’s, so she is still at a stone’s
throw from her children. Or at one of Momo San’s lesser shouts.
The Peach Boy Five all have fantastic names
that get on the nerves of those who aren’t poetically inclined because they are
as long as a haiku, and are in fact, really haikus. This makes most people
confused, and as a result they confuse the five boys, though they are all very
different from each other, and these kids have ended up being called Ichiro,
Jiro, Saburo, Shiro and Goro, that is, One, Two, Three, Four and Five. One of
these days, and it will be soon, I will learn those five haikus and call them
by their extended names. These kids have a younger sister whom everyone calls
Cami, because her name is a haiku about a Camelia. This one I already happen to
know.
Profoundly
pink Camelia
Who
blushes purple
when
kissed by the moon god.
The Peaches recieved me well, because though
I haven’t had much to do with them, we already knew each other, having
coincided at parties and at football games and archery matches. They were eager
to show me the golf course, which is not as grand as Grandpa’s, but looks
friendlier and less standoffish. The boys spoke to the gate of the golf course and to
the rest of the doors there too, and told them to open whenever I wanted them
to.
“Who is this Fisipki?” I was asked.
“I don’t know him well, but now he is
Demetrius Richearth’s son.”
“Ah,
Deme San!” whispered Momo San.
“We
were at Uncle Richi’s wedding. So now he has a son?” said Goro.
“Feeseepkee seems… a little… old to be such a
recent son. And he is a little…strange. But you will soon get to meet him. And
I, too, will get to know him better, because we haven’t seen much of each other, but we
will now. Grandpa asked me to teach him to play golf. I suppose that will be
the way to get to know him better.”
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