Baby brother 3/9

Jennifer Jane had flown to Lurbridge and was sitting comfortably in the George and Dragons drinking her ginger beer. “How is Sir George getting on these days,” she asked, “do you ever hear from him?”

“Doing very well I hear,” replied the landlord, “Phil at the timber yard was saying only the other day, that he was getting a lot more orders for his wood. He’s even had some of it taken across the river so that George can deliver it more quickly. He’s not feeling quite as young as he was though. I think the extra work is a bit too much for him; he was even talking about retiring a few days ago. If you fly across the river opposite his place, you might see George for yourself soon. He’s just about due back to pick up his last load"

Jennifer Jane finished her drink and set off on her scooter to see if she could spot George while he was on his way. To her surprise he was already there, loading long planks of wood on his cart.

“You must have made good time getting here,” she said as she landed beside him, “you weren’t expected for another hour or so.”

“We were attacked by bandits in the forest where the witch you turned into a cat used to live. We came back here in rather a hurry.”

“Wouldn’t be here at all if I hadn’t bolted with the cart,” said the horse. “He doesn’t believe half I say, even after all these years!”

“Didn’t have much opportunity back there did I?” replied George, “we’ll have to drive back to Lower Dene the long way round, the poor old horse certainly won’t be able to bolt when he’s pulling a cartload of timber. So we’ll start first thing tomorrow morning and take our time. Pity, time is money these days!”

“Would you like me to come with you, then you could go the shorter way and save an hour or two. I’ve been brushing up on my attack and defensive skills, it might be interesting to have a chance to try them out.”

“All very well for you to say,” said the horse, “I hope the defence includes me as well as you two. After all if they manage to stop me then there’s five of them against the two of you and with all respect miss, you’re not used to real fighting!”

Jennifer Jane laughed, “I think you’ll find I’m well able to keep the three of us safe. I suppose you’ll be staying at the Inn tonight. If you like I’ll meet you there to morrow morning.”

“Can’t afford the time,” said George. “We’ll be leaving at sun up. You just fly after us and try and catch us up before we go into the forest.”

She left George to finish his loading and flew back to the Gate for another stint of swotting. Later that night at her parent’s house she was talking about the day’s events and how Abigail thought she might stand a good chance of becoming a ‘third year’.

“Oh that reminds me! Abigail says that all the apprentices are expected to do a turn after the award ceremony. You know I can’t dance and I certainly can’t sing very well either. I don’t know any jokes that the others haven’t heard already, so have you got any idea to what I could do to entertain everyone?”

Mary thought for a moment then laughed. “How about ‘Baby Brother,’” she said to Dave.

“Good idea, it’s not too long and I’m sure she remembers Auntie Dot. We had some very good holidays on the farm before we bought the dinghy.”

“Of course I remember; the front path to the cottage was bordered by a boxwood hedge on each side. It used to smell nearly as nice as the old round barn where she kept the chicken feed.”

“Do you remember having to help her collect the eggs?”

“Yes I do, there was a wobbly plank across the ditch beside the road to go through a gap in the hedge. Then you had to start looking for eggs on the ground before feeling under the chickens in the hen house. Though I don’t remember anything about a baby brother.”

“Talking of smells,” said Dave, “there was a paraffin cooking stove and Aladdin lamps? She didn’t have any gas or electricity you know, everything was run on paraffin!”

“Auntie Dot was really your great aunt,” explained mum, “she was a real Victorian lady. In her day in the countryside, there was no entertainment other than what you made for yourself. Most people couldn’t afford a piano, so many of them sang songs or recited a monologue when they had a party. Auntie Dot had learned a poem called ‘Baby Brother’ that she would be asked to recite on occasions when she was in company.”

‘A dear little baby brother has come to live with Flo, she wanted it brought to the table so it might eat and grow,’ said Mary with a smile.

“Let me think a moment,” said Dave, “ah yes, I’ve got it.”

‘You must wait a while said grandma, in answer to her plea, for a little thing that has no teeth can’t eat like you or me.’

“There’s a lot more of it of course, but it ends up with Flo writing a letter, asking God to come and finish the baby.”

“Crumbs, that sounds just the sort of thing I’m looking for! I’m sure nobody else will know anything like that.”

She got her parents to write down the whole poem and went to bed that night practising it in her head.

‘That afternoon in the corner, with paper pen and ink, Flo said don’t talk grandma or else
you’ll ‘sturb my fink.’