My bedroom never seemed so lonely. My toys were all locked away in the chest, Ned was mad at me and banished from my presence and I was grounded for the whole month of April and May, the best time of the year. It was when all the baby animals hit the ground and I wasn’t allowed to watch or help.
No matter how I explained, no one believed Ned had shown me the way to Pennyroyal Court and his treasure; especially after Mum found the book of Castles in my room with the thumb marked page.
My punishment was to stay in my room unless Sally was with me and then I could only wander the house. Most of the time, she was busy with chores and didn’t have any spare moments to give me attention and I was thoroughly bored. Finally, after whining incessantly, Dad put me down in his study and turned on his brand new color telly and told me to stay there until he, mum or Sally came to get me, or else.
I hated the ‘or else.’ my fertile imagination conjured up all sorts of horrifying scenarios that were always worse than what he did.
I amused myself by changing the channels not that I had much choice. We got three, BBC being the strongest.
After that, I wandered the line of bookshelves and climbed to the top reading the titles. Mum had started me early; I had been reading since the age of three and chose more adult books than childrens choose. I did like the illustrations, though. I found one that seemed interesting, pulled it from the stacks, and made myself a perch atop one nearly empty shelf where I stretched out on the flat top and read. Hours passed and I was deep into Sir Edmund Hillary’s conquest of Everest when the faint sounds of a door opening disturbed my concentration.
“Aidan? Christ in heaven, where is that boy? I told him not to move!” My dad’s exasperated tones rose to my ears. My Mum’s were quieter, placating.
“Aidan, where are you?”
I popped my head over. “Here, Mummy.”
Her shriek startled me and I dropped the book to scramble after it, reaching the carpeted floor in seconds. I picked up the book and the spine had broken. “Sorry, Dad, I’ll fix it,” I apologized and his eyes went to the stacks soaring two stories above us, the second landing of his study/library with the rafters lost to our sight.
“Aidan,” he sighed. “Don’t do that again.”
“Do what, Dad?” I was puzzled, looked at both of them.
“Climb the shelves without the ladder. In fact, don’t climb the ladder. Aidan, you’ll be the death of me.”
“Da, I’m fine. Climbing’s keen. Easy. I’m going to grow up to be a Sir Edmund Hillary.”
“Last week you wanted to be a fireman,” he sighed. “Come along, it’s time for dinner. Sorry, you missed High Tea; I was helping Roger with the new bull.”
“No wonder I’m so hungry,” I complained and Mum took my hand and walked us all out to the dining room; the informal one that seated only the farm staff and family as we all ate together. I said hullo to Mr. P and he handed me a heavy silver whistle on a lanyard.
“For the new collie,” he said. “He comes to it.”
“Oh, aye? What color is he? What’s his name?” I climbed up onto the Sheraton chair and hid my dusty hands under the damask tablecloth but Mum saw and sent me to wash. By the time I was back, wet sleeves and all, the food was already going round the table and my plate filled.
Yummy. Filet of beef, home-grown. New potatoes, green beans, rolls and beets, all produced on the farm, even a glazed ham cut, sweet, pink and smoked.
I ate my way through the respectable pile and washed it down with milk, didn’t stop until my plate was nearly licked clean and I let go an enormous burp. “Scuse me,” I gasped as they all laughed.
Dad pointed his fork at me. “You still have room, belly boy? Mrs. C has made strawberry shortcakes with clotted cream.”
Ned said in my ear, “I love shortcakes, strawberries, and clotted cream. Save me a piece.”
“Where have you been?” I snapped.
“Oh, here and there. I’ve been keeping an eye on you.”
“You got me in trouble,” I complained under my breath because my parents were giving me the fish eye. “Go away. I’ll talk to you tonight.”
“Aidan?” my mum said and I smiled, grabbed for another dessert and that distracted them enough so they didn’t comment on Ned’s appearance.
“Sally’s waiting on you in the bathroom, Aidan. Tonight’s bath night.”
“I’m not dirty,” I complained. “I haven’t been outside in the yards or the stables.”
“You’ve been climbing in the stacks, dear boy; you’re full of dust and cobwebs. Ah, Sally, make sure he scrubs and does his teeth. In bed by seven, Aidan. You’re up early tomorrow. We’re off to Losthwithial to pick up roses.”
“Why can’t I stay here?” I whined as she pulled me out of my chair and pushed me down the hallway.
“Because you’d just find something nasty to get into,” Mum returned. “I’ll be in to say goodnight right after your bath. Don’t keep Sally waiting. It’s Friday night and she’s off to Truro for her gentleman caller and a movie.”
“Sally has a date?” I squealed and rushed off to tease her. She was waiting in the cloakroom watching the tub fill with bubbles. “Sally has a date!” I chortled and she sighed as she latched onto my collar and halted me.
“Here now, your lordship,” she said, long suffering. “No lip out of you or I won’t tell you all about the cinema when I come back Monday morn.”
“What’re you going to see?” I shucked my clothes and dove in, hollered as the heat hit my thingie and then ducked under, splashing the floor. Sally mopped up with my clothes, hurried me past drying and dressing. She had me tucked into bed in half the time I usually took and her last words were to behave or she’d scare me with details from the movie, The Birds.
Ned sat at the foot of the bed and mocked me.