Tim by Colleen McCullough

begged, smiling up at her and stroking the cicada softly. "Look, isn't he lovely, all green and pretty like a butterfly?"
    The golden head was bent over the cicada; Mary stared down at them both in sudden, blinding pity. Tim seemed to have some kind of rapport with the creature, for it lay on his palm without panic or fear, and it was indeed beautiful, once one forgot its Martian antennae and lobsterish carapace. It had a fat, bright green body about two inches long, tinted with a powdering of real gold, and its eyes glittered and sparkled like two big topazes. Over its back the delicate, transparent wings were folded still, veined like a leaf with bright yellow gold and shimmering with every color of the rainbow. And above it crouched Tim, just as alien and just as beautiful, as alive and gleaming.
    "You don't really want me to kill him, do you?" Tim pleaded, gazing up at her in sudden sadness.
    "No," she replied, turning away. "Put him back in his bush, Tim."
    By lunchtime he had finished the front lawn. Mary gave him two hamburgers and a heaping pile of chips, then filled his empty corners with a hot steamed jam pudding smothered in hot banana custard.
    "I think I'm finished, Mary," Tim said as he drank his third cup of tea. "Gee, but I'm sorry it wasn't a longer job, though." The wide eyes surveyed her mistily. "I like you, Mary," he began. "I like you better than Mick or Harry or Jim or Bill or Curly or Dave, I like you better than anyone except Pop and Mum and my Dawnie."
    She patted his hand and smiled at him lovingly. "It's very sweet of you to say that, Tim, but I don't really think it's true, you haven't known me long enough."
    "There's no more grass to mow," he sighed, ignoring her refusal to accept the compliment.
    "Grass grows again, Tim."
    "Eh?" That little interrogative sound was his signal to go slow, that something had been done or said beyond his understanding.
    "Can you weed garden beds as well as you can mow a lawn?"
    "I reckon I can. I do it for Pop all the time."
    "Then would you like to come every Saturday and look after my garden altogether, mow the grass when it needs it, plant seedlings and weed the flower beds, spray the bushes and trim the pathways and put down fertilizer?"
    He grasped her hand and shook it, smiling broadly. "Oh, Mary, I do like you! I'll come every Saturday and I'll look after your garden, I promise I'll look after your garden!"
    There were thirty dollars in his envelope when he left that afternoon.
     
     
     
     

 
    Nine
     
    Tim had been coming for five weeks before Mary Horton phoned his father late on Thursday night. Ron answered the phone himself. "Yeah?" he asked it.
    "Good evening, Mr. Melville. This is Mary Horton, Tim's Saturday friend."
    Ron pricked up his ears immediately, beckoning Es to join him for a listen. "Oh, nice to hear from you, Miss Horton. How's Tim doing, all right?"
    "He's a pleasure to have around, Mr. Melville. I do enjoy his company."
    Ron chuckled self-consciously. "From the tales he brings home, I gather he's eating youse out of house and home, Miss Horton."
    "No, not at all. It's a pleasure to see him eat, Mr. Melville."
    There was an awkward pause, until Ron broke it to say, "What's the matter, Miss Horton? Tim not wanted this week?"
    "Well, he is and he isn't, Mr. Melville. The fact of the matter is, I have to go up to Gosford this weekend to see how my summer cottage is getting on. I've neglected it sadly so far, concentrated on the garden at home. Anyway, I was wondering if you'd object to my taking Tim with me, to help me? I could do with some help, and Tim is terrific. It's very quiet out where I am, and I give you my word he wouldn't be subjected to strangers or undue stress or anything like that. He told me he loved to fish, and the cottage is situated right in the middle of the best fishing for miles around, so I thought perhaps-perhaps he might enjoy it. He seems to like coming to me, and I certainly like his company."
    Ron squiggled his