CHRISTY
The Greenhouse
Inspired by Katie Christy
First published by Blurb, Inc. © 2016
Copyright © 2016 by Steven Bowman and Katie Christy All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
Steven Bowman and Katie Christy asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
This book was inspired by Katie Christy.
First edition
Cover art by Steven Bowman
Translation by DeepL Translate Editing by DeepL Write
This book was professionally typeset on Reedsy.
Find out more at reedsy.com
I dedicated The Greenhouse to my beloved grandmother, Marie Olive Christy, who I affectionately call Nanny.
She has been a source of love
and strength throughout my life.
I will cherish her memory forever.
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I would like to thank my cousin, Katie, for the incredible inspiration that drove us to create our book.
Her unwavering passion and dedication to helping others lit a fire in us and motivated us to share our stories and experiences with the world.
We are forever grateful for her guidance and support, and we hope that our book will continue to spread the message of hope and empowerment, just as she has.
Thank you, Katie, for being such a shining light in our lives.
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Mr. Pryce was forty-four years old, thin but muscular, English, and had glaucoma.
Despite his white hair, he could navigate his way around the greenhouse.
Early in the summer of 1950, while Mr. Pryce was tending to his greenhouse, a boy named Forrester Cahill entered.
Forrester was short, chubby, pale, with many freckles and short reddish hair.
“When will the greenhouse be open, mister?” he asked, panting.
Mr. Pryce replied, “It will be open soon.”
Forrester, who was eight years old, had been visiting Mr. Pryce’s greenhouse since he was five years old and learned that it was about to open.
When Mr. Pryce opened his greenhouse a few weeks later, he offered Forrester an apprenticeship. On Forrester’s first day, 1
they walked in together.
Mr. Pryce gave Forrester his first assignment: to plant and tend a sunflower. Forrester carried the small plant to a patch of dirt in the greenhouse.
He picked up a small shovel and began to dig. When the hole was a foot deep, he placed the plant in it.
Mr. Pryce taught Forrester how to water the plant and expose it to sunlight. Forrester appreciated how Mr. Pryce taught him about plant growth patterns.
After completing his education on plants with Mr. Pryce, Forrester ventured into the distance with a friend.
They were joined by a twelve-year-old girl of medium height, Mediterranean appearance, and light blonde hair.
Her name was Poppy Reed, and she knew nothing about the greenhouse, but she wanted to be a part of it.
Poppy asked Mr. Pryce if she could enter his greenhouse, and he allowed her.
After entering and exiting with dirt on her arms, which angered him, she noticed and stopped.
Later that day, Forrester and Poppy were hungry after planting all morning.
2
Mr. Pryce had nothing to give them, but Poppy suggested they call her mother, Jasmine.
Jasmine, thirty-one years old, of Mediterranean descent, with strawberry blond hair and a muscular build, arrived after a while with food for them.
Mr. Pryce asked, “Who is it?”
“Hello, sir. My name is Jasmine Reed. I’m Poppy’s mother,”
Jasmine replied.
Mr. Pryce tried to say something but couldn’t because he couldn’t see Jasmine.
“Good Lord!” yelled Forrester.
“What is it, dear?” asked Jasmine.
Forrester panicked and pointed to the animal-shaped hole in the ground.
Jasmine approached the stressed Forrester and tried to calm him down by singing a lullaby called “Lavender’s Blue,” which soothed him.
Poppy tried to help, but Jasmine pushed her aside and prevented her from doing so.
She questioned her mother, but Jasmine stood firm and wouldn’t listen to her child.
3
Forrester felt calm.
Slowly he walked over to tell Mr. Pryce what was happening.
Finally, Mr. Pryce understood.
Mr. Pryce began by scratching the back of his head and sighing,
“What happened in my greenhouse, Forrester?”
Forrester wanted to cry, but he held back his tears. “There’s a hole in your greenhouse in the shape of an animal, sir,” he replied.
Mr. Pryce quickly took Forrester’s hand and led him to the location of the animal-shaped hole.
Mr. Pryce knew the location of the animal’s burrow and its identity.
Once inside Mr. Pryce’s house, the group was relieved to find that the animal was a friendly rabbit named Humphrey.
As they relaxed, Mr. Pryce began to talk about the war.
“It’s called the English and French War,” Mr. Pryce said. “It’s between England and France.”
Mr. Pryce filled Forrester and Poppy in on the war, giving them quick facts on the subject.
Jean-François Robert is a French soldier serving as a First Sergeant, or as the French call it, Premier Sergent.
4
There is also a French general named Lucien Bonaparte, known in French simply as “général”.
Poppy was surprised that Mr. Pryce had talked about these facts, and Mr. Pryce himself was surprised.
Forrester and Poppy were excited to set out the next day to make new friends. They sat by the fireplace, warmed by its glow, as it rained until dawn.
As the day ended, they shared fascinating stories about garden-ing techniques around the fire.
The children remembered these stories more than ever.
Forrester recalled, “It’s like this,” he said. “Good things come from planting the seed firmly in the ground.”
“Firmly?” Mr. Pryce replied, questioning Forrester. “What do you mean, master?”
“Like this, I’ll show you,” Forrester replied. “Let me give you a demonstration.”
Then Forrester picked up some seeds and began to press them firmly into the ground.
“I see, master,” said Mr. Pryce. “Is that all?” he asked Forrester again.
“Now you understand,” Forrester replied. “Yes, close your eyes.”
5
Poppy wanted to draw too, so she drew butterflies.
“Do you like my drawings?” she asked. “This one or this one?”
“I like both, actually,” Mr. Pryce replied.
Poppy was pleased with his answer. As the day drew to a close, Mr. Pryce told everyone to go home.
Eventually, everyone left. Mr. Pryce went to his bedroom and lay down to sleep.
6
Mr. Pryce awoke from a deep slumber to an alarm. “What’s that noise?” he cried. “Who’s there?”
There was no answer, but Mr. Pryce had a frightened look on his face that turned his skin pale.
“Seriously,” Mr. Pryce continued, “you better not be messing with me, whoever you are!” But the room remained empty and silent.
Mr. Pryce got out of bed, sat down at his bedside, and wondered about the noise he had heard.
He thought for a moment that his mind might be playing tricks on him, but then dismissed the idea.
“No,” he said, “this is crazy. I heard that noise.”
Mr. Pryce took out his Bible, turned to a random page, and prayed to God.
“Holy Spirit, let it be nothing or whatever it is.”
7
Mr. Pryce got out of bed and was on his way to the kitchen for a quick breakfast when he heard a knock at the door.
“Who is it?” Mr. Pryce asked.
Shaken and frightened, he opened the door to see a man with children.
“Hello?” Mr. Pryce inquired. “And who might you be?”
“Hello, sir,” the man replied with an accent. “We are from Bristol, England. My name is Sir Theodore Colston, and these are my children, Henry and Phoebe.”
“Sir,” the boy said, “hello! My name is Henry, and this is my father and my big sister. It’s nice to meet you!”
“Hello, young master,” Mr. Pryce replied. “My name is Mr.
Pryce.”
The boy informed his father that the man’s name was Mr. Pryce, and the father nodded in recognition.
“Good morning,” said the father. “Nice to meet you.”
The man held out his arm to shake Mr. Pryce’s hand, and they did so. Sir Theodore then left with his children.
Henry returned a few minutes later to meet his new neighbor.
“Hello, good sir,” Henry said. “My name is Henry, and I’m seven years old.”
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“Nice to meet you,” Mr. Pryce replied.
“What are you doing back here, master?”
Henry quickly entered Mr. Pryce’s bedroom, angering him.
Mr. Pryce yelled, “What are you doing in my bedroom?!”
Fearing Mr. Pryce, Henry hid.
“Master, it’s okay,” Henry said in a soothing voice. “Why don’t you come out?”
But Henry ran out of the room and through the door, leaving Mr.
Pryce confused.
“That was strange,” remarked Mr. Pryce. “What a strange little boy.”
Then he went to his greenhouse and met another guest.
“Good evening, sir. Nice day, isn’t it?” the new guest greeted him.
Astonished, Mr. Pryce replied, “What the…? Who are you and what are you doing here?”
When the stranger took a step forward, Mr. Pryce realized it was Forrester. He hurried to his feet with a smile on his face.
“It’s me, Forrester. Do you remember me? I’ve been your 9
neighbor since I was a baby.”
Forrester approached Mr. Pryce and let him feel his face before replying, “Ah, yes. It’s you, Forrester Cahill.”
“Yes,” Forrester replied. “Do you remember me?”
Forrester walked away and returned with Henry.
“Hello, sir,” Henry said. “It’s me, Henry. Do you remember me?
You told me to hide because of the yelling.”
“What?” asked Forrester. “I thought you were new in the neighborhood?”
“I am,” Henry replied. “I just moved here recently.”
“Do you have any siblings?” asked Forrester. “Like a brother or sister?”
“Yes, one,” Henry said. “Her name is Phoebe, and she’s ten years old.”
“How old are you?” Forrester asked.
“I’m seven,” Henry replied. “I’m her younger brother.”
Henry was a seven year old boy with jet black hair. He had a strong, muscular build for his age and was from England.
“Where are you from?” asked Forrester.
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“We’re from Bristol, England,” Henry replied.
“Okay,” said Forrester. “That’s cool!”
“Is that it?” Henry asked. “I’ve never heard that before. Really?”
They entered the greenhouse together, bonded as best friends.
Mr. Pryce felt his way into the greenhouse.
He picked a random seed from the shelf by instinct and tried to navigate to Henry to give it to him.
“What’s that?” Henry asked. “Why are you giving it to me?”
“Here,” Mr. Pryce replied, “take this as a token of my gratitude for welcoming the new guests.”
“Thank you, kind sir,” Henry said. “You have my sincere thanks.”
When Mr. Pryce stepped back from the greenhouse, Henry planted the seed.
Forrester showed Henry how to water the plant and provide it with sunlight.
“Thank you, young sir,” Henry said to Forrester. “You have my sincere thanks as well.”
Henry and Forrester watered the seed carefully.
“Like this?” Henry asked. “Am I doing it right?”
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“Yes,” Forrester replied. “That’s good, but you’ll learn more as time goes on.”
The sun peeked through the greenhouse and shone on the spot where they had planted the seed.
The boys were happy and excited to see what it would grow into.
“What do you think it will be?” Henry asked. “Do you think it will be a nettle-leaved bellflower or an ox-eye daisy?”
“I don’t know,” replied Forrester. “But it will be a pretty one.”
Henry left the greenhouse, disappointed to see Sir Theodore standing there.
“Henry?” asked Sir Theodore. “Where have you been, son?”
“I’m sorry, Daddy,” Henry replied. “It’s my fault for not coming home this afternoon. Can you forgive me?”
Henry and Sir Theodore went home and rode off into the sunset, leaving Forrester alone. He had never felt so alone.
Then Mr. Pryce went out and returned with a telephone in his hand.
“Forrester, it’s for you. It’s your mother.”
Five minutes later, Forrester hung up.
“I have to go home,” he said. “My mother needs me.”
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“Why?” Mr. Pryce wondered. “Is it an emergency?”
As Forrester disappeared through the door, Mr. Pryce was confused.
“I wonder what the emergency was,” Mr. Pryce mused. “The boy was certainly in a hurry.”
As Mr. Pryce entered his house, he heard a knock at the door.
“Who is it?” he asked. “I’m armed.”
Mr. Pryce opened the door to find a forty-eight-year-old Hispanic woman with long, dark hair and a slender body.
Her name was Ms. Alexandria Maddox.
“Good afternoon, sir,” she said. “What a beautiful afternoon, isn’t it?”
“Good afternoon to you too,” Mr. Pryce replied. “And who might you be?”
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“My name is Alexandria Maddox. Who are you, kind sir?” the beautiful lady said.
“It’s nice to meet you, madam,” Mr. Pryce replied. “I’m Mr.
Pryce.”
“Good name,” the fair lady said. “What is your age?”
“I am forty-four,” Mr. Pryce replied. “And yours, fair lady?”
Alexandria pondered the question for a moment.
“I am forty-eight,” she replied. “Do you have children of your own?”
“No,” Mr. Pryce replied, “do you?”
“Not yet,” Alexandria replied.
Mr. Pryce then invited Alexandria in, asking if she would like to come in for a cup of tea.
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She agreed and sat down at Mr. Pryce’s kitchen table.
“How many lumps of sugar, madam?” Mr. Pryce asked as he poured hot water from the kettle into two cups.
“Three,” Alexandria replied. “That will do.”
Mr. Pryce then felt his way to the sugar bowl and tried to count the lumps.
“Three?” Mr. Pryce hesitated. “I only like two.”
He walked over to Alexandria, reached for her hand, and she took it.
Alexandria graciously thanked Mr. Pryce for the cup of tea.
“What is there to talk about?” she asked.
Mr. Pryce was reluctant to discuss the war, fortunately, Alexandria insisted on discussing other matters.
“Talking is good enough,” Mr. Pryce said. “But there’s so much to talk about.”
“How about this?” Alexandria suggested. “We couldn’t have met before. Let’s discuss this.”
“Good,” Mr. Pryce said gratefully. “We should discuss that.”
“Where were you born?” Alexandria asked. “In Europe, perhaps?”
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“Why do you say that?” Mr. Pryce replied. “Is it because of my accent?”
Alexandria hesitated and said, “Yes, I think you are English.”
“Well done, my fair lady. That’s right,” Mr. Pryce replied.
“Thank you, kind sir,” Alexandria said. “What do you notice about me?”
Mr. Pryce pondered the question and said, “You are Hispanic, am I correct?”
“Yes,” Alexandria replied. “Well done, sir.”
She reached out to shake Mr. Pryce’s hand, and he noticed her firm grip as they shook hands.
After talking, they heard a knock at the door. Alexandria answered and saw a boy standing there.
“Who is this, Mr. Pryce?” Alexandria asked.
“This is Henry,” Mr. Pryce replied. “He’s my new neighbor.”
“Hello,” Henry said. “My name is Henry Colston and I’m seven years old.”
“Hello, Henry,” Alexandria said. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“Indeed,” Henry replied. “Nice to meet you too.”
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Henry entered Mr. Pryce’s house and sat down on the couch.
“Can I watch TV?” Henry asked. “I want to watch Captain Marvelous.”
“Who is Captain Marvelous?” Mr. Pryce asked. “What’s his real name?”
“He’s a superhero,” Henry replied. “His real name is Sir Bernard Radcliffe. He’s from Nottingham, England, and he’s twenty-seven years old.”
“Oh,” Mr. Pryce replied, “that’s cool.”
Mr. Pryce let Henry watch the TV show and said, “This is a new episode called ‘Episode 97’. It’s the season finale of the fourth season and the twenty-sixth episode.”
As he sipped his cup of tea and listened to Henry, Mr. Pryce replied, “That sounds interesting. Can I watch it with you?”
Henry hesitated to tell Mr. Pryce that it was a children’s show, but Mr. Pryce didn’t mind.
“Sure,” Henry said.
Mr. Pryce went into the living room and watched the show until Henry wanted to go outside.
“What’s your favorite part of the show?” Henry asked. “Well, from what you’ve heard.”
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Mr. Pryce respected Henry’s wishes.
“I liked the part where Captain Marvelous rescued a cat from a tree before he fought Doctor Nightshade,” he replied.
After their conversation, Forrester returned with terrible news.
“My grandmother, Josephine Hartley, has died,” Forrester said, crying.
“How did she die?” Mr. Pryce asked. “What was the cause?”
Forrester cried miserably, “She died of a lung disease. I forget the name.”
Mr. Pryce pondered the possible cause of death.
“It’s called tuberculosis,” he replied. “They shorten it to TB.”
Forrester then asked Mr. Pryce if he could stay at his house, to which Mr. Pryce replied that it would only be possible if Forrester’s parents agreed.
“May I use your phone, please, sir?” Forrester asked.
“You may,” Mr. Pryce replied. “If you stay here, you’ll have to do chores.”
Forrester left to call his parents and returned ten minutes later.
“They agreed,” he said. “Sir, how much will I be paid?”
18
“Let me think,” Mr. Pryce replied. “I’ll pay you 10 pounds.”
Alexandria informed everyone that thunderstorms were approaching.
“We should all get inside,” she said. “It’s going to start pouring soon.”
They all went inside and sat by the fire, enjoying its warmth.
Night fell, and Mr. Pryce told everyone to go home except Forrester and Henry.
After everyone had left, Mr. Pryce told Forrester to get his pillow and blanket from his house.
With the room now silent, Mr. Pryce asked Henry a question.
“Would you like to meet Captain Marvelous?” Mr. Pryce asked.
“If you do, I’ll take you to him.”
“Yes!” Henry exclaimed excitedly. “I will. But how are you going to do that?”
Mr. Pryce told Henry not to worry, he would make it happen.
Henry went home and Forrester returned to Mr. Pryce’s house.
They rested until morning. Forrester awoke early, while Mr.
Pryce awoke a little later.
“Good morning, sir,” Forrester said. “What’s for breakfast?”
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Mr. Pryce thought for a moment and replied, “I have cereal, milk and bowls in the cupboard. I’ll get them and make breakfast.”
“Thank you, sir,” Forrester said respectfully. “I’ll take whatever you have.”
Mr. Pryce made his way into the kitchen and sat down at the kitchen table.
“I’ll give you Nestlé Honey Nut Corn Flakes,” Mr. Pryce said, since that was all he had.
“Please,” Forrester replied politely, “I’ll take whatever you have.”
Forrester and Mr. Pryce had breakfast. Then they went outside, where Mr. Pryce gave Forrester his first chore.
“Clean up the yard,” Mr. Pryce instructed. “This is your first chore.”
Mr. Pryce handed Forrester a garden shovel and warned him to be careful. Thirty minutes later, Forrester was done.
“What’s next?” he asked. “I’ll do whatever I can and work hard at it.”
Mr. Pryce thought of a new task and assigned it to Forrester.
“Paint my fence a new color,” Mr. Pryce instructed, “and I’ll teach you how to do it.”
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“What color, sir?” asked Forrester respectfully. “I’ll be happy to paint it any color you want.”
Mr. Pryce tried to think of the colors he had.
“Peach Melba,” he said. “I also have Bluebell. Those are my colors.”
“I chose Peach Melba,” Forrester replied.
“Good,” Mr. Pryce replied. “You have chosen well. That is what I would have chosen.”
Mr. Pryce led Forrester to the supply closet and picked up a paint can marked “Peach Melba” on the lid.
“Here,” Mr. Pryce said, “be careful of the handle. It spills easily.”
“Okay,” Forrester replied, “I’ll be careful.”
Mr. Pryce led Forrester to the fences that needed painting.
“Paint them with me, making sure the strokes are even.”
“You know how to draw straight lines?” Mr. Pryce asked.
“Yes, sir,” Forrester replied respectfully. “I do.”
“Enough?” Mr. Pryce asked Forrester. “What do you mean by
‘enough’?”
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Forrester replied, “I’ll do it well enough, sir.”
Mr. Pryce and Forrester continued painting the fence until Henry appeared in the doorway and entered the backyard.
“Hello, my good sir,” Henry said. “It’s me, Henry. Do you remember me?”
“Hello,” Mr. Pryce replied. “Yes, Henry, I remember you.”
“Do you know why I’m here?” asked Henry.
“Yes,” replied Mr. Pryce, “I have to get my shoes on. Then I’ll take you to him in a taxi.”
“Hooray!” Henry exclaimed excitedly. “I’m going to meet my favorite idol, Captain Marvelous!”
Mr. Pryce told Forrester to finish up and go home before taking Henry to meet Captain Marvelous.
Upon arrival, Mr. Pryce and Henry entered the building and 22
noticed a medium sized, muscular man.
They met a man from Nottingham, England, and struck up a conversation with him.
“Good afternoon,” the mysterious person said. “My name is…”
He paused for a second.
Henry, getting nervous, exclaimed, “You’re Captain Marvelous!
I know you from your number one TV show.”
The man revealed his name: “It’s me, Captain Marvelous!” he announced in a deep voice.
He was immediately mobbed by fans. Captain Marvelous didn’t know what to do, the flashes from the cameras were intense on his face.
Henry really wanted to get Captain Marvelous’ autograph, but he missed his chance as loud, screaming kids swarmed the character.
After ten and a half minutes of cameras in his face, the crowd left Captain Marvelous alone. Henry then had his chance to get an autograph.
Henry took Mr. Pryce’s hand and led him straight to Captain Marvelous.
“Excuse me, sir?” asked Henry. “May I have your autograph, please?”
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Captain Marvelous thought for a moment and decided to give Henry his autograph for free.
Henry looked at his idol in awe as he signed.
“For you,” Captain Marvelous said, “it will be my honor to give it to you for free.”
Mr. Pryce took Henry home in a taxi, and they thanked Captain Marvelous for the autograph.
Upon arriving home, Mr. Pryce walked into the backyard to see the peach melba-colored fences that surrounded it.
Then Mr. Pryce dialed Forrester’s parents’ number, and Forrester’s father answered the phone.
“Hello, is this Henrietta Cahill?” Mr. Pryce asked. “This is Mr.
Pryce.”
“No, this is Everett Cahill. Who’s calling?” replied Everett.
Later, Mr. Pryce realized he was not speaking to Henrietta and asked to speak to her on the phone.
“Yes?” inquired Henrietta. “Who might this be?” Mr. Pryce was confused by her question, for she should have recognized him.
“It’s me, Mr. Pryce,” he replied. “You already know me, remember?”
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Henrietta remembered asking why Mr. Pryce had called her. He replied with the respect one might show a woman.
“I mean that with respect,” Mr. Pryce said. “Your son, Forrester.”
“Yes?” Henrietta replied. “What about my son?”
Mr. Pryce considered how to answer.
“Your son is a very talented painter,” Mr. Pryce said. “You should seriously consider encouraging him to become an artist when he grows up.”
“Thank you, sir!” Henrietta said. “You’re a good influence on my son.”
“You are a kind woman,” Mr. Pryce replied. He hung up the phone, climbed into bed, and slept until morning.
Morning came, and Mr. Pryce awoke from his slumber. He made his way to the kitchen to get something to eat.
As he was leaving the kitchen, he heard a knock at the door.
As Mr. Pryce arrived at the door, he heard a loud bang from outside. Then an MI5 agent named Arthur Kingsley Jr. knocked on Mr. Pryce’s door.
“Hello, sir. My name is MI5 Agent Arthur Kingsley Jr. and I’m here about an explosion outside. May I have your full name, please?”
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“Hello, who might you be, sir?” Mr. Pryce inquired. “What did you say happened?”
As Mr. Pryce started to close his door, MI5 Agent Kingsley stopped him.
“Sir,” MI5 Agent Kingsley said, “I’m Agent Arthur Kingsley Jr.
There was an explosion outside. May I have your name, please?”
“What is this about, Agent Kingsley?” Mr. Pryce asked. “An explosion? I had nothing to do with it. Why do you need my name?”
“Have you seen or heard from this individual?” Agent Kingsley asked.
“Their name is Herbert Reynolds, they’re from Bromley, England, and they look like this.”
Agent Kingsley showed him a photograph. “No, I’m sorry, I can’t help you,” Mr. Pryce apologized. “I can’t see the photo because I have glaucoma.”
“That’s all right, Mr. Pryce,” said MI5 Agent Kingsley. “Sorry to bother you, sir, but you’re not the person I’m looking for.”
“That’s all right, Agent Kingsley,” Mr. Pryce replied. “Was there an explosion?”
“Is everything all right?”
26
“That’s classified, Mr. Pryce,” replied MI5 Agent Kingsley. “I’m sorry, but I can’t divulge that information.”
“I understand, sir, but is there anything else you need from me?”
Mr. Pryce inquired.
“Well, there is one last thing,” MI5 Agent Kingsley said. “Do you know anyone else who might be able to help with my case, Mr.
Pryce?”
“I don’t know how that would help you,” Mr. Pryce replied. “But I do know one person whom I trust with the information. His name is Henry Colston. Let me give him a call, will you?”
Mr. Pryce called Henry to come over. After Henry arrived promptly, Mr. Pryce explained the situation and Henry quickly grasped it.
Henry said, “Oh, did you know there was an explosion, Mr.
Pryce? I’m not sure I can be of any help, sir.”
MI5 Agent Kingsley asked Henry, “How do you know about this explosion, Henry? Have you ever heard of a man named Herbert Reynolds from Bromley, England?”
“No, sir. I’ve never heard of Herbert Reynolds. I’m sorry,” Henry replied. “Is he someone I should be concerned about, Agent Kingsley?”
“That’s okay, Henry. You’re doing great,” replied MI5 Agent Kingsley. “Well, I must get on with my case. Thanks for your help, Mr. Pryce and Henry.”
27
“Thank you, Agent Kingsley. Good luck with your case, sir.”
“I’m sorry I wasn’t much help,” Henry said.
“Yes, thank you, Agent Kingsley. Good luck with your case. I apologize for not being more helpful with your investigation,”
said Mr. Pryce.
MI5 Agent Kingsley left to investigate the Herbert Reynolds case while Henry returned home, leaving Mr. Pryce alone. Mr.
Pryce then went into his greenhouse.
Inside, he found the plant that Forrester and Henry had planted, it had grown into an ox-eye daisy.
Mr. Pryce recalled that the boys had hoped for either a nettle-leaved bellflower or an ox-eye daisy, and it had turned out to be the latter, which was Henry’s wish.
After some time, Mr. Pryce left his greenhouse and walked to his house as it began to rain, not wanting to get wet.
As Mr. Pryce entered his house, the rain intensified into a downpour. Thirty seconds after the rain began, he heard a knock at the door.
Mr. Pryce went to the door, grabbed the doorknob, and opened it.
“Who is it?” he asked. “I have my fists, and I’m not afraid to use them!”
The person remained silent, intending to intimidate Mr. Pryce.
28
Mr. Pryce shouted, “State your name!”
Then he wondered aloud, “Why are you here?”
The person, not knowing Mr. Pryce’s temperament, shook and trembled as they said in a shaky voice, “My name is Claudius Antonius.
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Claudius fell to his knees. “The reason I’m here is because I have no place to sleep,” he said, shaking.
Mr. Pryce, wanting Claudius to stop shaking, invited him into his house and made his way to the couch to sit down.
Mr. Pryce asked Claudius, “Where do you come from? Do you have parents?” Claudius stood up and began to tell his story.
“My name is Claudius Antonius,” Claudius said. “I think that’s my real last name.”
He continued, “I have no memory of my parents. I’m sixteen years old and I have no memory of my family, okay?”
Mr. Pryce first told Claudius not to speak out loud, then continued to question him.
“What about a mother or father?” Mr. Pryce asked. “Do you remember them?”
Claudius fell to his knees, begging to stay until nightfall.
30
“Sir?” he asked. “May I stay here tonight?”
Mr. Pryce thought of Claudius, who showed no mercy.
“Sure,” Mr. Pryce replied, “but it will cost you to stay.”
“Cost?” Claudius asked. “Am I too poor to afford it?”
It was then that Mr. Pryce realized that Claudius was an orphan.
“Claudius?” Mr. Pryce asked, “Are you an orphan?”
Claudius revealed his true self, sobbing.
“Yes! Yes!” he replied. “I am an orphan with no parents to care for me. I’m hungry, tired, and wet.”
Claudius’s distress shocked Mr. Pryce, whose kindness made him feel sympathy for the teenager.
“How is that?” Mr. Pryce said. “I’ll put you up for the night, feed you, and you can have a shower in the morning.”
Claudius stood up, almost jumping for joy.
“Thank you, thank you,” he said respectfully. “Your shelter is payment enough. I thank you very much.”
Mr. Pryce wanted to treat Claudius with kindness and respect because he felt compassion for him.
31
“You’re welcome,” Mr. Pryce replied. “Now, let’s get to it, sir.”
“Get to what?” Claudius asked. “Aren’t we going out in the pouring rain?”
Mr. Pryce thought Claudius was wrong.
“No, sir,” Mr. Pryce replied, “we’re going to bed for the night.”
Mr. Pryce and Claudius had a light snack before going to bed, intending to get up early the next morning.
Mr. Pryce rose earlier than usual to prepare for the day ahead with Claudius.
Mr. Pryce would call out, “Claudius Antonius!” Then he would say to Claudius, “Please wake up!”
After waking up, Claudius and Mr. Pryce ate breakfast and took showers.
“Boy, I have a lot to teach you!” Mr. Pryce said.
“Ah,” Claudius replied, “yes, sir. You know a lot about teaching a teenager like me.”
“Like this,” Mr. Pryce replied. “You wrap it like you’re wrapping a baby. You see?”
He followed Mr. Pryce’s instructions and began to wrap himself as instructed.
32
“Like this?” Claudius asked. “Is that right?”
Instead of confirming, Mr. Pryce had to redirect him.
“Here,” Mr. Pryce said, “let me show you another way.”
At first he resisted and wouldn’t let Mr. Pryce touch him. After a while, however, Claudius calmed down and allowed it.
“Sir, I…” said Claudius.
“Shh!” Mr. Pryce said, cutting Claudius off.
“But sir, must I?” Claudius asked.
“Must what?” Mr. Pryce replied.
“I insist. I want to learn your true ways, sir,” Claudius said.
Mr. Pryce, wanting to avoid trouble for Claudius, decided to reconsider.
“I’ll give it a try,” said Mr. Pryce.
Claudius barely noticed that Mr. Pryce was just trying to make him happy.
“Have you noticed?” Claudius asked.
“About what?” Mr. Pryce replied.
33
“How could a teenager like me learn methods like yours?”
Claudius replied. “I’ve learned a lot since you helped me.”
“Thank God for that, boy,” said Mr. Pryce. “Why don’t you have parents?”
Claudius looked sadly into the distance and frowned.
“I was only four,” Claudius replied. “My mother was abused by her husband and she had to shield me from that pain.”
“Your mother,” Mr. Pryce asked, “was she abused by your father?”
Claudius almost cried.
“Yes!” he shouted. “It’s true! Daddy was abusive!”
Mr. Pryce wanted Claudius to remain as calm as possible.
“Daddy, no!” Claudius screamed.
“Try to calm down, master,” Mr. Pryce urged Claudius.
Although Claudius wanted to be calm, he found it difficult when he remembered his father beating his mother.
“Daddy!” cried Claudius. “Don’t you dare hit Mom!”
He remembered his father’s reply, “What did you say, boy?”
34
“Don’t you dare talk to me like that!” his father had said.
Claudius’ painful memories made him sad.
“Oh, Daddy, please don’t hit me!” Claudius said.
Mr. Pryce told Claudius that it was okay to remember those memories, but not to speak them out loud.
“Do you want something?” Mr. Pryce asked Claudius.
Claudius rushed to his feet.
“Sure, I do!” he said.
“What would that be?” Mr. Pryce replied to Claudius.
“I want you to be my new daddy, please!” Claudius’ request gave Mr. Pryce pause for thought.
“I’ll give you a break, boy. I don’t think so, not yet,” Mr. Pryce replied.
Claudius nearly jumped for joy before Mr. Pryce shot down his wishes. Then his expression turned sad.
“Okay,” Claudius said sadly. “I respect your decision, sir.”
Mr. Pryce wanted Claudius to be like a son, but not his own.
After some thought, Mr. Pryce said, “Here’s the deal: I have a 35
nice lady for you.
“And who might that be?” asked Claudius. “What’s her name?”
Mr. Pryce wanted to find a lady who would be just right for Claudius.
“The lady’s name is Ms. Alexandria Maddox,” he replied. “She will be waiting for you at the appointed time.”
“Who is this Ms. Maddox?” Claudius asked. “How old is she?”
“Her name is Alexandria and she is forty-eight years old,” Mr.
Pryce replied.
Mr. Pryce then spoke to Claudius about the lady.
After that, Claudius understood what was to become of her. Desperate to meet her, he soon heard a knock at the door.
He looked through the peephole and saw a woman.
“Who is it?” yelled Mr. Pryce. “I’m armed!”
“Bonjour ! C’est moi, Madame Angélique,” she said. “J’ai quelque chose à vous dire.”
Mr. Pryce opened the door hesitantly.
“Bonjour !” the woman said politely.
“Bonjour, je suis M. Pryce,” he replied.
36
Madame Angélique looked at him with her hand over her heart.
“Bonjour, M. Pryce,” she said. “Je m’appelle Madame Angélique.”
Mr. Pryce looked out the door to see if anyone else was there before inviting Madame Angélique into his humble home.
“S’il vous plaît, madame,” said Mr.
Pryce, “pourquoi ne
viendriez-vous pas vous asseoir sur le canapé ? Je peux vous faire du thé si vous le souhaitez.”
Madame Angélique entered Mr. Pryce’s house and sat down on the couch.
“Non, je suis désolé de vous le dire,” Madame Angélique said,
“mais je ne bois pas de thé. Prenez-vous du café ?”
Mr. Pryce was shocked that Madame Angélique wanted coffee.
“Je dois m’excuser,” Mr. Pryce replied, “Je ne bois pas de café car je ne bois que du thé.”
“Très bien, c’est parfait, M. Pryce,” Madame Angélique said calmly. “Connaissez-vous un endroit où je pourrais prendre un café ?”
Mr. Pryce thought about the question.
37
Mr. Pryce replied, “Oui, je connais un endroit à Chelsea.”
“Quel est le nom de cet endroit, M. Pryce ?” Madame Angélique asked.
“La Maison du Café,” Mr. Pryce replied.
Madame Angélique then grabbed her purse and pocketbook and walked out the door.
“Attendez-moi, s’il vous plaît !” Mr. Pryce shouted.
He hurried to catch up with Madame Angélique.
When he reached her, Mr. Pryce asked if he could go with her to her car.
“Madame,” Mr. Pryce inquired, “puis-je vous accompagner dans votre voiture à La Maison du Café ?”
Madame Angélique immediately replied, “Oui, bien sûr, mon bon ami.”
38
Mr. Pryce went to the passenger door and opened it. Madame Angélique got into her car and they drove off, following Mr. Pryce’s directions.
“Excusez-moi, mademoiselle,” Mr. Pryce asked, “pouvons-nous parler en anglais, si vous le pouvez ?”
“Yes,” Madame Angélique replied in her best British accent, “I am Madame Angélique.”
“Do you have a last name?” Mr. Pryce asked. “If so, what is it?”
“No, kind sir,” Madame Angélique replied. “What is your first name?”
Mr. Pryce replied, “No, I can’t tell you that.”
“Oh, okay,” Madame Angélique replied calmly.
“I am a single woman,” Madame Angélique said loudly. “I have no husband!”
“Me neither! I’m a single man, just like you’re a single woman,”
Mr. Pryce agreed.
“Okay,” Madame Angélique replied.
Mr. Pryce gave Madame Angélique directions to La Maison du Café.
Mr. Pryce and Madame Angélique entered La Maison du Café together and ordered coffee and tea.
39
Madame Angélique then drove Mr. Pryce home. She then left and he went to sleep.
In the morning, Mr. Pryce awoke from a deep sleep after a long night.
“What a long night!” exclaimed Mr. Pryce. “How much more of a French mistress can I endure?”
Mr. Pryce then got up, looked around his house, and went from the master bedroom to the kitchen.
After eating something, he made his way to his greenhouse, where he found an unusual and unwelcome guest at the door.
“Hello,” said the unwelcome guest.
“Who are you?” asked Mr. Pryce.
“I am Evelyn Marie Pritchett,” said the guest.
Mr. Pryce wondered and asked, “Why are you here? Where are you from?”
“I’m here for a reason,” the guest replied thoughtfully.
“I’m from Wilmington, North Carolina,” she said. “Why are you here?”
Mr. Pryce told Evelyn his story, explaining how he had become the best greenhouse master in all of London.
40
“I live here,” Mr. Pryce replied, “you silly little girl.”
“Silly?” Evelyn asked Mr. Pryce. “What do you mean, ‘silly’?”
Mr. Pryce wanted to be nice, but Evelyn thought he was a mean man.
“What’s your problem?” Evelyn asked angrily. “I’m just a little girl!”
Mr. Pryce did not mean to hurt or crush Evelyn’s feelings, but she mistakenly took offense at what he said.
Evelyn, a nine-year-old with light brunette hair, was somewhat muscular and from the American South.
Mr. Pryce didn’t want Evelyn to take everything he said for granted, but she misinterpreted his intentions.
“Sorry, sir,” Evelyn said. “I didn’t mean to take it for granted.”
“It’s all right,” Mr. Pryce replied. “No need to apologize.”
“I insist,” Evelyn said. “I apologize for my actions.”
Although Mr. Pryce didn’t think Evelyn needed to apologize, she did.
Mr. Pryce told her not to come to his house because she was being rude.
“Come to my greenhouse, madam,” Mr. Pryce said. “It’s in my garden.”
41
“Why?” asked Evelyn. “It’s not like I live around the corner.”
“Then where do you live?” Mr. Pryce wondered.
“I’m going to tell you a story,” Evelyn said.
“Okay,” Mr. Pryce replied.
“It all started when my mother told me to go outside. She said my little brother would walk with me until the moon came up.”
Evelyn continued, “My mother would not have let my baby brother out of her sight. She and my father would be furious with me if that happened.
“My brother and I are the only things my parents care about.”
Evelyn finished her story, “Daddy told me to take care of my little brother as if my life depended on it.
Mr. Pryce looked at Evelyn in confusion.
“He’s only four years old,” Evelyn continued. “Daddy would be mad at me before Mommy could be.”
“Ah,” Mr. Pryce said. “I see.”
“Only God can judge me,” Evelyn said faithfully, “and don’t forget His beloved Son, Jesus Christ.”
“Yes, fair lady,” Mr. Pryce replied.
42
“Why do you call me that?” Evelyn wondered.
Mr. Pryce had to think deeply and carefully about his answer.
“Calling a woman ‘fair lady’ is simply a polite way to address her,” Mr. Pryce said. “As for you, my lady.”
“You should call me ‘Mister,’” Mr. Pryce insisted. “It’s the polite way to address a man.”
“Really?” Evelyn asked. “Should I politely call you ‘Mister’?”
“Yes, fair lady,” Mr. Pryce replied. “Call me Mister or Mr. Pryce.”
Evelyn approached Mr. Pryce’s backyard door and tried to open it.
Mr. Pryce stopped her at the threshold.
“Where are you going?” Mr. Pryce inquired. “No one but me is allowed to enter my greenhouse through that door.”
“Yes, sir,” Evelyn replied. “I sincerely apologize.”
Mr. Pryce approached Evelyn and touched her face.
“Ah, yes,” he remarked. “What was your name again?”
“My name, sir?” Evelyn asked. “It is Evelyn Pritchett. May I ask why you want to know it?”
“How old are you, Evelyn?” Mr. Pryce asked.
43
Evelyn replied, “I’m nine, sir.”
“Nine, huh?” Mr. Pryce said. “I remember when I was nine.”
“Let me tell you a story,” said Mr. Pryce. He told how his mother walked him to the bus stop for school every day.
She would always hold my little hand and say, “It’s going to be a good day at school, isn’t it?”
“Yes, Mummy,” I would answer, and she would send me on the bus to Southwark Primary School, where I was sometimes beaten up by Cedric Bradshaw, a bully.
“What did Cedric do to you?” Evelyn asked.
Mr. Pryce replied, “He hit and kicked me, called me stupid and ridiculous names, and did other things that bullies do.
“Ouch,” Evelyn said. “That must have hurt, huh?”
“Yes, but that’s in the past,” Mr. Pryce said.
“It’s not good that he did those things to you,” Evelyn said.
“Yes, but it’s still my past,” Mr. Pryce told Evelyn. “There’s nothing I can do about it, he could beat me up all he wants, but that would never hurt my pride and joy.”
After some time had passed, Mr. Pryce made his way to the greenhouse, with Evelyn following behind him.
44
“You’ll see different kinds of flowers and pots, madam,” Mr.
Pryce said.
“What kinds?” Evelyn wondered.
45
Mr. Pryce concluded, “All kinds, my lady.”
Eager to join in the excitement, Evelyn jumped in front of Mr. Pryce, startling him.
“Whoa!” Mr. Pryce exclaimed in surprise. “Watch where you’re going, lady.”
“Sorry, mister,” Evelyn apologized. She noticed a flower she had not seen before and stopped.
“Mister, do you know what kind of flower this is?” Evelyn asked Mr. Pryce.
“Yes, I most certainly do. I own all these flowers and I know every one of them,” Mr. Pryce replied.
“It’s called a gerbera daisy,” Mr. Pryce continued.
Evelyn took a whiff of the beautiful flowers. “Smells good,” she said.
46
“Yes, I know, my lady.”
After Evelyn finished sniffing the flower, she moved to another and smelled it. Thunder rumbled, causing her to leave.
Mr. Pryce went to bed and fell asleep.
When morning came, he woke up, groped his way out of bed, and went to the refrigerator to get cereal and milk for breakfast.
“Where are the Kellogg’s Choco Krispies?” Mr. Pryce said aloud.
“Now I have to go to the pantry to see if there’s any cereal,” he added.
He made his way to the pantry to look for cereal.
“I feel around, but I can’t find anything,” he said sadly.
“Aw, man! Darn it! Crud!” Mr. Pryce exclaimed in frustration.
He then launched into a tirade against his house, settling down later than usual.
“Dear Heavenly Father,” Mr. Pryce began, “I come to you today to ask for your help in acquiring some brand-new cereal boxes.
“I would like to choose some cereal options other than chocolate.
Please help me choose healthier options.”
Mr. Pryce reached for his phone and dialed MAYfair 629 to call Ms.
Alexandria Maddox. After a minute, Alexandria answered.
47
“Hello, Mr. Pryce,” she said.
“Is this Ms. Alexandria Maddox?” Mr. Pryce asked.
“Yes, how did you get my number?” Alexandria inquired.
Mr. Pryce replied, “You gave it to me for my phone book.” He quickly added, “Don’t you live in Mayfair, London?”
“Yes, Mr. Pryce,” Alexandria said. “Why are you calling me?”
Mr. Pryce replied, “I’m calling about a teenager I met who is an orphan.”
“What’s his name and age?” Alexandria asked.
“His name is Claudius Antonius,” Mr. Pryce replied, “and he’s sixteen, madam.”
“Claudius Antonius is sixteen, hmm?” Alexandria asked.
“Yes, madam, that is correct,” Mr. Pryce confirmed. “What do you say, miss?”
Mr. Pryce said, giving Alexandria time to think.
“Sure, I’ll adopt him. But it will take time and money, right?”
Alexandria replied.
“Yes, I’ll bring him in two days and give you 2 million pounds for the adoption,” Mr. Pryce said.
48
“That leaves me with 500,000 pounds,” Alexandria hinted. Then Mr. Pryce hung up and hailed a cab for himself.
“Welcome to Arnie Westcott Taxi Co.,” said the driver, Albie Westcott. “How can I help you today?”
“Hello, is this Arnie Westcott Taxi Co.?” asked Mr. Pryce.
“Yes, sir,” Albie replied. “What is your current location and where would you like to go?”
“I don’t know my location, but I need to find someone,” said Mr.
Pryce. “Please come quickly.”
“Who might that be, sir?” Albie asked.
“His name is Claudius Antonius. Why is that any of your business?” Mr. Pryce replied.
“I apologize for being nosy, sir,” Albie replied politely. “But I know to whom you’re referring. Allow me to come over quickly.
Please be prepared for my assistance, sir.”
“How much would that cost me?” Mr. Pryce inquired.
Albie replied, “It’s one shilling and four pence a mile.”
“Okay,” Mr. Pryce replied. “I’ll take that.”
“I’ll meet you there,” said Albie. “Remember, it’s one shilling and four pence a mile.”
49
“Why would you do that, sir?” asked Mr. Pryce.
“Because,” replied Albie, “it’s the least I can do for a fine gentleman like yourself, sir.”
Mr. Pryce hung up the phone, fell onto the couch, and lay there until the taxi arrived.
“Let me turn on the TV,” he said, “until the taxi arrives.”
“But what is there to look at?” Mr. Pryce asked. “Nothing but boring commercials and cheesy shows.”
Thirty minutes passed, and the taxi honked with the meter running.
“Coming!” Mr. Pryce yelled. “Just wait a few minutes!”
Mr. Pryce didn’t realize it was Albie Westcott and was eager to apologize for yelling.
He then prepared to leave, stepped out of the doorway, and climbed into the taxi.
“Good evening, sir,” Albie said. “I’ll be taking you to your destination. Please fasten your seat belt and enjoy the ride.
It’s going to be bumpy.”
“Okay,” replied Mr. Pryce. “How much is it per mile again?”
“One shilling and four pence, sir,” replied Albie.
50
“Will it take long?” asked Mr. Pryce.
“Just enjoy the ride, sir,” replied Albie.
“It’s just up Belvedere Road, isn’t it?” inquired Mr. Pryce.
“Yes,” replied Albie. “Any more questions?”
“No, I’m satisfied,” replied Mr. Pryce.
“Enjoy the bumpy ride, sir,” Albie said.
A few minutes later, Albie arrived on the scene and confronted the orphaned teenager.
Albie honked his horn, startling Claudius, who was hiding in the shadows of the alley.
Mr. Pryce paid Albie and told him to wait. Then he called,
“Claudius Antonius! It’s me, Mr. Pryce.”
He seemed to have disappeared, but Mr. Pryce could hear Claudius’s footsteps.
“What do you want?” Claudius asked.
“I’m here, don’t worry,” Mr. Pryce replied. “I’m here to take you.
Don’t you remember the deal?”
Claudius trembled. “Yes, sir, I remember it perfectly.”
51
“Why don’t you—” Mr. Pryce was interrupted.
“Why don’t I what?” Claudius interjected.
“Why don’t you come with me?” Mr. Pryce asked eagerly. “I’ll take you to her house.”
“I’ll do what’s best for me,” Claudius replied. “I’ll go, but it won’t work.”
“What do you mean?” Mr. Pryce inquired.
“I’ll go, but it won’t work,” Claudius repeated.
Claudius slowly poked his head through the cracks of an old building and saw nothing but pure sunlight.
“I’m coming,” Claudius said, “but I’m not going to enjoy it.”
Claudius took Mr. Pryce by the hand and they entered the taxi together.
“Take us to Ms. Maddox, please,” Claudius said politely.
Albie then drove them to Mayfair, London, where they arrived at her doorstep.
Upon their arrival, Claudius led Mr. Pryce to the entrance of Ms. Alexandria Maddox’s residence.
52
Claudius rang Alexandria’s doorbell. “Hello?” Alexandria answered. “Who are you, kind sir?”
“I am Claudius Antonius,” Claudius replied. “I am here to see Miss Maddox.”
“She is,” Alexandria told Claudius. “My name is Ms. Alexandria Maddox.”
Mr. Pryce had mentioned him to her. She allowed him into her home where they negotiated terms and contracts.
Once the terms and agreements were settled, they went to an official court.
Their case was shorter than expected, as they were next in line after a man named Joseph Hartwell Jr.
“State your names,” said the judge, “and why you’re here.”
“I’m Mr. Pryce,” said Mr. Pryce.
53
“I am Ms. Alexandria Maddox,” said Alexandria.
“I am Mr. Claudius Antonius,” said Claudius.
“Your Honor, we are here for the legal action of adoption,” said Alexandria.
“Okay,” said the judge. “You may all sit.”
The judge began his “Rules of Court” speech: “These are my rules, please follow them.”
After a few moments, the judge accepted the adoption papers, and Alexandria changed Claudius’ name and signed them.
“Sign on the dotted line,” the judge said. “He’s yours as soon as the payment is made.”
“Thank you,” Alexandria said. “I accept with my sincerest gratitude, Your Honor.”
She paid, signed her name on the line, and legally changed Claudius’
name.
“What will you call me?” Claudius asked.
“Your new name,” Alexandria replied, “will be Bentley Maddox-Pryce.”
“Bentley, huh?” Bentley said. “I love it, Mum.”
54
Alexandria tingled all over when Bentley called her “Mum.”
“Sure, you can call me Mum now,” she said.
Bentley waited patiently until they left the courtroom to praise her.
“I sincerely commend you,” Bentley said. “And I love you, Mum.”
They left the courtroom and returned to Alexandria’s home.
“My, my,” Mr. Pryce said, “I’m like your father.”
“Father?” Bentley asked. “How so?”
Mr. Pryce wanted to surprise her with a ring, but he didn’t have one.
“Let me get a cab,” Mr. Pryce said.
A few minutes later, a taxi arrived to pick him up.
“Take me to any jeweler, please,” Mr. Pryce told the driver.
The driver took Mr. Pryce to the jewelry store, where a clerk helped him choose a wedding ring that was the right size for her. Mr. Pryce paid for it.
“How much is this one?” Mr. Pryce asked.
“The total is £1,715.58,” said the jewelry clerk. “Is this the ring you want?”
55
“Is it a 14k yellow gold ring with diamonds?” Mr. Pryce asked.
“Yes, sir,” the jewelry salesman replied. “Its size is 7.5. Is that okay?”
“Yes,” Mr. Pryce replied. “That’s fine.”
Mr. Pryce paid for the wedding ring, took a taxi to his home to pick up the engagement ring, and then returned to Alexandria’s home.
After Mr. Pryce paid both drivers for the round trip, he got down on one knee and took out the engagement ring.
“Will you marry me, please?” he asked politely.
“That’s sweet,” Alexandria replied. “Of course I will.”
They kissed. It was August 1950, and Mr. Pryce said he would make arrangements for their wedding.
They were married on August 5th, 1950. They then flew to Rome for their honeymoon, where they had a chance to see the sights.
There they met the Italian ruler, King Umberto II, at the Quirinal Palace. They then returned to England.
Mr. Pryce had become very ill and was spending his days and nights on the couch, prompting Alexandria to call 999 for an ambulance.
56
The ambulance took Mr. Pryce to the hospital because of his condition after their trip to Rome.
Alexandria and Bentley went to the hospital and entered Mr.
Pryce’s room, where he was connected to an oxygen mask and an intravenous drip.
“Oh, honey,” Alexandria cried. “Please don’t die!”
Then the doctor entered the room and informed them of Mr. Pryce’s condition.
“This is the problem,” Dr. Thomas Goodman said. “It’s pneumonia.”
“What’s that?” Bentley asked.
“Pneumonia is an inflammation of one or both lungs, usually due to a bacterial, viral, or fungal infection,” Dr. Goodman replied.
Dr. Goodman continued, “Pneumonia causes the tiny air sacs in the lungs to fill with fluid or pus, leading to symptoms such as cough, chest pain, and difficulty breathing. Anyone can get pneumonia.”
After asking them to leave the room, Dr. Goodman returned an hour later with terrible news.
“Your husband,” Dr. Goodman said, “is very sick and close to death, he needs to be hospitalized immediately.”
57
Dr. Goodman allowed Alexandria and Bentley a brief moment with Mr. Pryce.
“Dear Lord,” Bentley began, “please don’t let Father die and let your angels watch over him. Amen.”
Dr. Goodman arrived and told Alexandria and Bentley they had to leave. They left Mr. Pryce in the hope that he would survive.
Fifty minutes later, Dr. Goodman emerged with the news,
“Madam, he will be fine, but his time is limited.”
Alexandria and Bentley praised the Lord and entered Mr. Pryce’s room to see him and make sure he remembered them.
“Honey,” Alexandria said, “it’s me. I’m here, baby.”
“Alexandria?” muttered Mr. Pryce. “I’ll be all right, but I won’t live much longer.”
“You’re fine, Father,” Bentley said.
“Is that you, son?” Mr. Pryce asked.
“Yes, Father, I’ve heard the news,” Bentley replied. “I will do whatever is necessary to keep you happy.”
Alexandria and Bentley left to let Mr. Pryce rest.
They left the room just before Dr. Goodman informed them that he would need to be hospitalized until he was well enough 58
to go home.
They knew they could visit Mr. Pryce any day until he died.
Sadly, they cried as they left the hospital.
They returned home hoping that Mr. Pryce would recover.
Alexandria and Bentley would have cried daily, hoping for his improvement.
A few weeks passed, and they visited Mr. Pryce in the hospital to see how he was doing. They went to his room.
“Are you well enough to go home?” wondered Alexandria.
“Yes, but it will take some time to get the discharge papers,” Mr.
Pryce said.
They waited for Dr. Goodman’s handwritten signature on the discharge papers before they could leave.
When they got home, Alexandria and Bentley gently hugged him and praised the Lord that he was well enough to be back.
“What’s this for?” Mr. Pryce asked. “I know I’m still alive, but according to Dr. Goodman, I only have two weeks left. So let’s not be happy or sad just yet.”
After hugging Mr. Pryce, Alexandria and Bentley wanted to spend as much time with him as possible.
59
They went outside and drove Mr. Pryce to his chosen destination.
“Where are you going, Father?” Bentley asked.
“Take me to Buckingham Palace, please,” Mr. Pryce said.
60
Alexandria drove Mr. Pryce to the palace. “Why do you want to come here, Father?” wondered Bentley.
“Because I want you all to meet King George VI,” said Mr. Pryce.
They walked through the gates only to come to a halt.
“And who are you?” the guard asked. “Who are you here to see?”
“We are here to see King George VI, please,” Alexandria replied.
“What for?” asked the other guard. “He is not here at the moment,” the guard continued, “but I am ordering you to leave the palace grounds.”
So they left the palace grounds and went to another place that Mr. Pryce wanted. “Please take me to my older brother,” Mr.
Pryce asked.
“What for?” Alexandria asked.
“I want to tell him that I’m going to die soon,” Mr. Pryce replied.
“I want him to come to my funeral.”
61
Mr. Pryce gave them directions to his older brother’s house, and when they arrived, they helped him out of the car and into the house.
“Good afternoon,” said Mr. Pryce’s older brother. “What brings you here, Winslow?”
“Sir Whitby Pryce II, I have some terrible news,” Mr. Pryce replied.
“Why is it always bad news?” Sir Whitby asked in amazement.
“I’m going to die in two weeks,” Mr. Pryce said. “So could you please come to my funeral?”
The room fell silent, not even the sound of a squeaking mouse.
“Certainly, Mr. Pryce,” replied Sir Whitby. “I’ll come, but please don’t forget me.”
“I’m sure I won’t,” said Mr. Pryce. “I’ll just miss you all.”
They left Sir Whitby’s house and went home to help Mr. Pryce water his garden one last time.
Mr. Pryce said goodbye to the animals that burrowed under his garden.
“Bloody hell!” screamed Bentley. “Why, God? Why does it have to end like this?”
When the day was over, they all went to sleep.
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Alexandria kept a close eye on Mr. Pryce to make sure he didn’t die in his sleep, and then morning came. The sun was shining and the birds were singing.
They drank tea together and enjoyed themselves. “Would you like some more tea?” asked Alexandria.
Mr. Pryce replied, “Yes,” and thanked her.
“Thank you, dear,” Mr. Pryce said to his wife. Bentley then awoke from his slumber, feeling tired and wanting some breakfast.
After preparing and enjoying a hearty breakfast, Bentley asked,
“What shall we do today, Father?”
“Let’s go to the park,” Mr. Pryce suggested. “Then we can get some ice cream at a place I know.”
They walked to the park, with Alexandria and Bentley helping Mr. Pryce along the way.
“Let’s go to Kensington Gardens,” Mr. Pryce suggested. “Then we can get ice cream at Creamy Carousel Cones by the Round Pond.”
They went to the park, as Mr. Pryce had suggested, and watched the children playing in the playground.
After some time, they left at ten o’clock in the morning, because they were bored.
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Then they went to the place Mr. Pryce had mentioned and got the ice cream they wanted.
“What kind do I want?” Bentley asked.
“Get whatever you want, Sonny,” Mr. Pryce insisted. “As long as I’m paying, you can have anything you want.”
Bentley spotted three flavors he was unfamiliar with. “What flavor is this?” he asked the ice cream clerk.
“It’s strawberry, sir,” she replied. “Is that what you want?”
Bentley chose that flavor and two others. “And this one?” he inquired.
“It’s vanilla, sir,” she replied. “Do you want that flavor?”
Bentley chose his flavor, leaving him with one more choice.
“Let me guess, this one. Is it chocolate?”
“Yes,” the ice cream man confirmed. “Do you want it?”
Bentley made his final selection, and then it was Alexandria’s turn to choose her ice cream. She selected her flavors and sat down to eat.
Mr. Pryce chose his flavors and sat next to Alexandria, and Bentley joined them. They all sat together, eating their ice cream and enjoying the moment.
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“Where would you like to go next, Father?” Bentley asked.
“Let’s just go home for the rest of the day,” Mr. Pryce replied.
They went home after their ice cream and rested until nightfall, which marked the end of the day.
They did nothing for five days, which became a week.
It is August, still in 1950. Mr. Pryce’s funeral took place and everyone gathered for it.
Pastor Bradford led the singing of “O Love That Will Not Let Me Go” as they carried Mr. Pryce’s body to the front of the service.
Pastor Bradford said a prayer as they carried the body forward.
Then Forrester began the Lord’s Prayer.
Our Father, who art in Heaven, Hallowed be thy Name.
Thy Kingdom come. Thy will be done, On Earth as it’s in Heaven. Give us this day our daily bread.
And forgive us our trespasses, As we forgive those who trespass against us.
And lead us not into temptation, But deliver us from evil.
Amen.
Alexandria and Bentley talked about Mr. Pryce, starting with Forrester and ending with him.
During their final farewell, Pastor Bradford led hymns and prayers as they carried Mr. Pryce’s body.
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Then they all shed tears in the hope that he would rest in peace, marking the conclusion of Mr. Pryce’s funeral.
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In the summer of 1950, Mr. Pryce passed away peacefully from pneumonia, leaving behind a legacy of love and care for his home and greenhouse.
Despite his absence, his passion for growing plants and making new friends will always be remembered.
It is with great sadness that we say goodbye to Mr. Pryce, but we take comfort in knowing that his beloved greenhouse is in good hands with Claire Thompson.
Mr. Pryce’s kindness and generosity touched the hearts of everyone he met and he will be greatly missed by all who knew him.
His devotion to his home and garden was truly inspiring, and his memory will live on through the beautiful plants he so lovingly tended.
As we reflect on Mr. Pryce’s life, let us remember the joy he brought to those around him and the beauty he created in his backyard greenhouse.
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May we all strive to carry on his legacy of caring for our homes and gardens with as much love and dedication as he did.
Rest in peace, Mr. Pryce.
You will always have a special place in our hearts.
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