superstitions, and the setting-up of family-planning clinics——'
'All right! All right!' I broke in testily, 'there's no need to talk to me like some pink left-wing paper! And in any case, it isn't so much the size of the family, but the move to the towns that's depleting us here. This makes the third family within a year to leave Fairacre. They've all gone nearer the atomic station. Mr Roberts is still looking for a really reliable cow-man.'
'We shall get an influx when the new housing estate goes up,' observed Miss Jackson, 'or will they all go to Beech Green School?'
'I should think the children would go to either,' I said, shaking my head at a very naughty little boy who had decided to empty the dregs of his milk bottle into the ear of his neighbour. 'I wonder if we shall have to have any new buildings?'
'More likely to have a colossal new school on the estate,' hazarded Miss Jackson, rescuing the milk bottle.
I felt uncomfortably jolted.
'I never thought of that!' I answered slowly.
I drove over to the Annett's house that evening for my weekly baby-sitting session.
Young Malcolm was having his j umping practice at the end of the cot, singing a tuneless and breathless accompaniment to this exercise. To his mother and to me, peeping through the crack of the bedroom door at this bundle of energy, it looked as though he would be at it for at least another hour.
The usual thousand-and-one last minute injunctions were given me by the departing mother, while her husband brought in coal and logs, for the evening was turning chilly, gave me the Telegraph, The Times Educational Supplement, The Farmers Weekly and Eagle— the last, I suspected, confiscated from one of his pupils. I decided to read that first, whilst giving an ear to Isobel's directions.
'Let him jump until he falls asleep, and if you can get him into the right end of the bed, all the better. If not, tuck him up where he's asleep. If he stirs, you'll find the old shawl he takes to bed with him, somewhere among the covers, unless he's thrown it over the side. If he's wrinkled up his mackintosh sheet and you can possibly straighten it without waking him, it would be a help.
'I've left some boiled water in a blue jug on his bunny tray in the kitchen—not the white jug—that's got orange juice in it. And if he rcally seems hungry he can have some warm milk, preferably in his mug, but if he's really being frantically naughty put it into his bottle and he may drop asleep as he takes it that way. I'm trying to break him of the bottle, but he has it occasionally at bed time.'
I said I would remember all this, reaching for Dan Dare. Mr Annett called anxiously from the hall.
'It's past seven, Isobel!'
'Coming!' said she, throwing a scarf round her neck and grabbing her violin. 'Oh! And one last thing, take the bottle away as soon as he's asleep!'
I said that I would. Dan Dare appeared to be in a most awkward predicament, having been hoisted on a crane of some sort, by green-faced men with claws and legs like birds. I was dying to read about his adventures.
'You are a dear,' said Isobel, giving me a hasty kiss, and knocking Dan Dare to the floor unnoticed. She rushed from the room and I heard the front door slam. I bent down to retrieve Eagle and heard the front door open again. Isobel's head appeared round the door. She looked extremely agitated.
'Of course, if he's emptied the bottle before he's asleep, take it away in any case, or he'll get the most frightful wind!'
She vanished before I could reply. The door slammed again, the car gave a distant and impatient hoot, and finally drove off towards Caxley.
I listened to my charge. He was still jumping rhythmically in the distance.
Sighing luxuriously, I leant back in my chair and put my feet up on a footstool. In ten minutes' time, I reckoned, I should insert my young god-child into the right end of his bed, put his comforting old shawl into his sleeping hand, and forget him.
Meanwhile, I turned my
'All right! All right!' I broke in testily, 'there's no need to talk to me like some pink left-wing paper! And in any case, it isn't so much the size of the family, but the move to the towns that's depleting us here. This makes the third family within a year to leave Fairacre. They've all gone nearer the atomic station. Mr Roberts is still looking for a really reliable cow-man.'
'We shall get an influx when the new housing estate goes up,' observed Miss Jackson, 'or will they all go to Beech Green School?'
'I should think the children would go to either,' I said, shaking my head at a very naughty little boy who had decided to empty the dregs of his milk bottle into the ear of his neighbour. 'I wonder if we shall have to have any new buildings?'
'More likely to have a colossal new school on the estate,' hazarded Miss Jackson, rescuing the milk bottle.
I felt uncomfortably jolted.
'I never thought of that!' I answered slowly.
I drove over to the Annett's house that evening for my weekly baby-sitting session.
Young Malcolm was having his j umping practice at the end of the cot, singing a tuneless and breathless accompaniment to this exercise. To his mother and to me, peeping through the crack of the bedroom door at this bundle of energy, it looked as though he would be at it for at least another hour.
The usual thousand-and-one last minute injunctions were given me by the departing mother, while her husband brought in coal and logs, for the evening was turning chilly, gave me the Telegraph, The Times Educational Supplement, The Farmers Weekly and Eagle— the last, I suspected, confiscated from one of his pupils. I decided to read that first, whilst giving an ear to Isobel's directions.
'Let him jump until he falls asleep, and if you can get him into the right end of the bed, all the better. If not, tuck him up where he's asleep. If he stirs, you'll find the old shawl he takes to bed with him, somewhere among the covers, unless he's thrown it over the side. If he's wrinkled up his mackintosh sheet and you can possibly straighten it without waking him, it would be a help.
'I've left some boiled water in a blue jug on his bunny tray in the kitchen—not the white jug—that's got orange juice in it. And if he rcally seems hungry he can have some warm milk, preferably in his mug, but if he's really being frantically naughty put it into his bottle and he may drop asleep as he takes it that way. I'm trying to break him of the bottle, but he has it occasionally at bed time.'
I said I would remember all this, reaching for Dan Dare. Mr Annett called anxiously from the hall.
'It's past seven, Isobel!'
'Coming!' said she, throwing a scarf round her neck and grabbing her violin. 'Oh! And one last thing, take the bottle away as soon as he's asleep!'
I said that I would. Dan Dare appeared to be in a most awkward predicament, having been hoisted on a crane of some sort, by green-faced men with claws and legs like birds. I was dying to read about his adventures.
'You are a dear,' said Isobel, giving me a hasty kiss, and knocking Dan Dare to the floor unnoticed. She rushed from the room and I heard the front door slam. I bent down to retrieve Eagle and heard the front door open again. Isobel's head appeared round the door. She looked extremely agitated.
'Of course, if he's emptied the bottle before he's asleep, take it away in any case, or he'll get the most frightful wind!'
She vanished before I could reply. The door slammed again, the car gave a distant and impatient hoot, and finally drove off towards Caxley.
I listened to my charge. He was still jumping rhythmically in the distance.
Sighing luxuriously, I leant back in my chair and put my feet up on a footstool. In ten minutes' time, I reckoned, I should insert my young god-child into the right end of his bed, put his comforting old shawl into his sleeping hand, and forget him.
Meanwhile, I turned my
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