An Excellent Wife?. CHARLOTTE LAMB

got the smile this time, and felt his stomach muscles contract disturbingly.

      ‘You are funny,’ she told him indulgently.

      He carried her up the steps on to the verandah and over the painted wooden floor which creaked every step of the way. James forced himself to put her down at the front door.

      ‘Well, goodbye, Miss Kirby, don’t come to my office again. I have tightened up security procedures; you won’t get in again.’

      She gave him a distinctly wicked glance through her long, darkened lashes. ‘I bet I could if I really tried.’

      He bet she could, too. His security men were only human.

      Sternly, he said, ‘Don’t try. I would hate you to land in jail.’

      ‘You’d love it,’ she said, mouth curling, pink and teasing. ‘Men love to exercise power. Tyranny is their favourite occupation.’

      James refused to argue with her any more. He turned to go back to the car, but at that second the front door swung open and a noisy multitude rushed out of the house and engulfed him in barking dogs with wagging tails and licking tongues, what appeared to be a dozen yelling children in scruffy jeans and sweaters, two old ladies in floral aprons and an old man in dirty boots and dungarees.

      James should have fled there and then but he was too slow, too busy looking at the old ladies and wondering if one of them was his mother. He saw no resemblance at all, but then would he, after twenty-five years? Patience had said that his mother was frail and delicate. The description did not fit either of the two women; they looked tough and capable, in spite of both being at least seventy years old.

      ‘He’s taken our puppy and he’s going to drown it!’ one of the children sobbed. ‘Make him give it back.’

      Patience was greeting dogs, her small hands busy on their heads, impeded by their licking tongues. ‘What puppy?’ she asked the tallest child, a boy with a mop of familiar red hair and eyes like melting toffee.

      The old man answered her gruffly. ‘They found it and brought it home with them. As if there weren’t enough dogs underfoot without bringing puppies back here!’

      ‘I found it,’ the smallest child said, a little boy with spiky ginger hair. ‘I bringed it home in my spaceship.’

      ‘Spaceship?’ asked Patience.

      ‘Her wheelbarrow,’ interpreted the eldest boy.

      Her wheelbarrow? That was a girl?

      Patience smiled down at the smallest child, ruffling the hedgehog-like hair.

      ‘Where did you find it, Emmy? It must belong to someone! They’ll be worried about it; we must let them know the puppy is safe.’

      ‘No good,’ the old man grunted. “They don’t want it back. They’re not daft; they jumped at the chance to get rid of it.’

      “The lady at Wayside House gave it to me!’ said Emmy. ‘She said nobody wanted it and I could have it, and it likes me. It wanted to come with me, it licked my face and jumped in my spaceship, but Joe says he’s going to drown it. Don’t let him, Patience, please...’

      Emmy began to cry, tears seeping out of her eyes as if she was melting, and trickling down her small face.

      ‘This place is already overrun with animals; we’ve got to take a stand!’

      ‘I hate you, I hate you,’ Emmy sobbed, and kicked the old man with surprising violence on his ankle.

      He hopped back. ‘Here, you stop that!’

      As if at a given signal, the children all surged forward and were clearly about to launch a physical attack on him, too, but Patience said sharply, ‘No! Don’t be naughty, children!’ and they fell back obediently but glared and muttered.

      ‘He’s a nasty man!’ Emmy said, still dripping tears.

      ‘And what business is it of his, anyway?’ the tallest boy said, his voice breaking with temper, making him sound oddly touching, stranded halfway between child and man, neither one nor the other.

      Patience produced a handkerchief and gently wiped Emmy’s wet little face. ‘You shouldn’t kick grown-ups; you know that, Emmy.’

      ‘Not even if they deserve it?’ the tall boy asked cuttingly.

      Patience looked confused. ‘Not even then, Toby,’ she said at last, and the children shifted, scowling.

      By then James had worked out that there weren’t actually a dozen, only about half a dozen, and he wasn’t sure if they were all related. The ones with hair on the red side were probably related to Patience; the three others of about the same ages were probably just their friends.

      Barny got out of the car and came up the steps, asking quietly. ‘Are you coming, sir? I have to get back to Enid, if you remember, or we’ll be late for the theatre.’

      Patience swivelled to look at James; the children, the old women and the old man all stared, too, silenced for a second or two and taking James in then, their eyes curious, probing. ‘Is it him?’ the children whispered to Patience, who nodded at them, putting a finger on her lips.

      James knew he should be going. This whole family were obviously crazy. Nothing like this had ever happened to him before. His life had always been so neat and ordered, a world of calm colours and hushed voices. He couldn’t help being fascinated by this revelation of a very different universe and he hesitated, feeling he should leave yet so curious he knew he would stay.

      ‘Off you go, Barney, you mustn’t keep Enid waiting. I’ll get a taxi,’ he said offhandedly.

      Barny nodded. ‘Yes, sir.’ For some reason he smiled, too, as if he was pleased with James, although why he should be James could not imagine, flushing slightly and feeling irritated and self-conscious. Barny went back down the steps; the car drove off and James felt one last wild urge to run after it, but at that instant a tiny hand twined itself around his fingers.

      He looked down into the bright green eyes of the little girl.

      ‘Come and see my puppy. Do you like puppies?’

      ‘Don’t encourage her,’ said the old man. ‘You can see how many dogs we’ve got. The last thing we need is another dog, and this puppy isn’t even house-trained; it leaves puddles everywhere and it has already torn up a cushion and Mrs Green’s slipper—chewed it to bits, it did.’

      ‘Oh, never mind that old slipper! I don’t care twopence about it. Don’t you drown that poor little mite on my account!’ said a spry, white-haired woman whose blue flowered apron exactly matched her blue eyes. ‘I’ll soon house-train him. I’ve always had a soft spot for a Jack Russell, and he’ll certainly keep the vermin down. We won’t need to worry about rats or mice if we have that little chap here.’