A Time and A Season
Episode 8: Swings and Roundabouts
by Janice

Part One: Helen

Friday, October 15, 2004

Helen took in her surroundings with a practiced eye. She straightened a dried flower arrangement, shifted a few ornaments and stood back to check the effect. The little house was nowhere near as cozy as her own home, but it was greatly improved since she had moved in. The dinner table was set, ready for their guests, and the food was in the oven. With a satisfied nod, she returned to the bedroom to check her own appearance.

Tonight was an important night. She was not entirely sure why - Don and Rosemary Taylor, their guests, were old friends. Perhaps Peter had been too casual when he mentioned the invitation. A quick look in the mirror assured her that she looked fine. Turning side-on, she noted that there was no hiding her pregnancy any longer. Any woman who cared to look would soon be able to tell.

“Admiring your bump?” asked Peter, appearing suddenly in the doorway. “I think it’s beautiful.”

“Admitting that I can’t hide it anymore is more the point,” she replied. She sighed and changed the subject. “They’ll be here soon. Are you ready?”

He nodded and led her out of the bedroom. “I’m really looking forward to this evening. We’ve lost touch with too many people. I don’t want that to happen with the Taylors.”

“Even if he’s still working at the bank?”

“I don’t hold it against him,” he said, smiling. A sound outside caught his attention. “I think that’s them. I’ll just go and let them in.”

While he was gone, Helen took a moment to check on the food. Satisfied, she walked into the living room just as the door opened to admit their guests.

“Helen!” cried Rosemary, obviously pleased to see her. “It’s been too long - and don’t you look wonderful. Don’t you dare deny it!”

Blushing, she made a suitable reply as she embraced her old friend. Soon, the four were engaged in a lively conversation. It carried them right through the meal that Helen had prepared. There seemed to be no end to the topics of common interest between the two couples.

“Well, that was a wonderful meal, Helen,” said Don, pushing back from the table. “I can’t tell you how much I’ve enjoyed being here this evening.”

Helen blushed and thanked him, as the others added their praises. She stood and started to clear the table.

“Let me help you with the dishes,” said Rosemary, picking up some plates. As they entered the kitchen together, she lowered her voice. “I’m sure that Don and Peter have plenty of catching up to do and they won’t want to do it while we’re there. Besides, I have a thing or two to talk to you about.”

“You don’t need to help,” said Helen. “Just take a seat and we can talk while I tidy up.”

Rosemary smiled and started helping regardless. She pushed the kitchen door closed, blocking out the sound of quiet conversation beyond.

“I heard a whisper of something that I thought you might be interested in,” she said. “Do you remember the Mitchells? Not the old couple; the son and his wife.”

“Blanche and Frank?” Helen asked, after thinking for a few moments. She had never known the family well and wondered how news of them could possibly interest her.

“Yes, that’s them. Well, you’d remember that they divorced a few years back and she left Sleepyside.”

“They both did, eventually,” said Helen. “He had to sell his land, and I haven’t seen him since. Both Peter and I felt very sorry for him, actually.”

“So did we,” her friend replied. “His parents dying in the house fire, and his wife leaving him and then to lose what was left of his inheritance… it doesn’t bear thinking about.” She shook her head. “But, it was actually the wife - or ex-wife - that I wanted to talk about. She’s back in Sleepyside and Libby Carter told me that she saw her kissing the mayor!”

“No!” said Helen, in a suitably horrified tone. “He’s a married man - and with his position to consider.” Helen was sure the Sleepyside rumour mill would certainly be having a field day with this. Libby Carter, in particular, would be spreading the news for all she was worth. The woman is an insatiable gossip, she thought. I’m not at all surprised to hear her name in connection with this.

“I’d never say this to Libby,” Rosemary added with a grin, “but I’m quite sure she was wrong. It wasn’t the mayor that Blanche Davis was kissing; it was another married man with a position to consider: it was the new bank president.”

Tuesday, October 19, 2004

It still seemed early, though Helen could not seem to summon the energy to actually look at the clock. Without having to check, she knew that she was alone in the bed. It had been a very long time since she had felt this tired and this after a good night’s sleep.

I do have someone elses well-being to consider here, she thought, snuggling down into her pillow. I think I’ll just stay in bed a little longer. Peter will just have to get his own breakfast. Through the haze of tiredness, the background noise resolved itself into his voice. Who is he talking to?

His footsteps were coming towards her. Had she fallen back to sleep without knowing it? Was it late? The bed moved as he sat down on it.

“Helen?” he said, softly, but with an edge of excitement to his voice. “Are you awake?”

“Mmm-hmm?” she answered, hoping that was enough.

“Open your eyes, Helen,” he said. She reluctantly complied. “I’ve had a call from Don. They want to interview me for a position.”

All at once, she was wide awake. “Position? What position? And wasn’t the new president the one who wanted you gone?”

“It doesn’t matter what the new president wants,” said her husband. “He has been - let us say, he no longer holds the position and is unlikely to hold any position in Sleepyside ever again.”

Her eyes widened in shock. “Does this have anything to do with your little conference with Don when he was here?”

“Whyever would you think that, Helen?” Peter asked, with exaggerated innocence. “You don’t think I would interfere in things which don’t concern me, do you?”

Helen contemplated her husband for several long moments. “Well, however it happened, this could be just what we’ve needed. Have you had breakfast?” He shook his head. “Give me a few minutes and I’ll whip up a batch of celebratory blueberry pancakes.”

He smiled at her, happier than she had seen him in months.

Sunday, October 24, 2004

Helen was busy preparing the evening meal when she heard the sound of a car out in the yard. She looked up in surprise. To her knowledge they were not expecting any visitors this afternoon. Peter must have seen the car and let it in, she decided, checking the time. He should be here any time now. The thought was confirmed by the sound of footsteps.

“Helen?” her husband called. “We’ve got visitors.”

She turned at the sound of his voice. There was a note of - was it dread? Behind him, stood her second son and his girlfriend. Why are they here? she wondered, her heart turning cold. And why do they look so… guilty?

“Hi, Moms,” said Mart. “We’ve got some news to share with you.”

His mother smiled tightly, murmured a greeting and checked on the vegetables. “Why don’t we go into the living room?” she suggested aloud. Inside, her thoughts were churning. “Won’t you sit down, Diana?”

The young couple sat close together on the sofa, while Helen took an arm chair. She looked across at her husband. He remained standing, behind the matching arm chair on the opposite side of the sofa. His grip on the chair back was so hard she could see his knuckles turning white.

“Moms, Dad,” Mart said nervously. “Di and I were wondering if you had any plans for Christmas Eve this year.”

That was unexpected. Helen’s eyes met Peter’s. “No,” she said, slowly. “I don’t believe that we do, other than the usual things I would do that day - preparations for Christmas and so on.”

“Good,” her son said. “Because that’s the day that we’re getting married.”

Helen felt her jaw drop. Involuntarily, her eyes strayed to Di’s stomach and she noticed the girl blushing.

“No, Mrs. Belden,” Di said, anticipating the question. “I’m not pregnant, and we certainly don’t have any plans of changing that.”

“Then, why?” Peter asked. Helen could see the deep emotion hidden just below the surface. She thought that he was handling the situation far better than she was. His voice sounded so calm and reasonable.

“Just in case,” Mart said, dropping his eyes. “Dad, I can’t guarantee that I can live up to the terms of the will. I don’t want to take a risk, and this is the best way we can come up with to safeguard my claim. We’ve had a lawyer look at it and this is our best chance. Di’s going to drop out of college at the end of the semester. Then, we’ll get married the day after finals are finished. She’ll go back as soon as I graduate.”

“You make it sound so final,” Helen said, her voice shaking despite her attempts to stop it.

“It is.” Mart had a determined look on his face. “This is what we’re doing.”

Peter cleared his throat. To all appearances, he was deep in thought. His next words betrayed, at least to his wife, the line which they had taken.

“We promised,” he said, softly, almost to himself.

“We did,” she replied. She dropped her eyes, knowing what was going to come next, but unwilling to see it happen.

“You’re sure this is what you want?” her husband asked their son.

“Yes, Dad. We’re sure.”

“Then, your mother and I will support your decision.”

“You will?” He sounded amazed. Looking up, Helen found that his expression matched the tone of voice. Beside him, Diana looked thoroughly taken aback. “Really?”

For the first time, Peter smiled. “Yes, really. Your mother and I know what it’s like to live with parental condemnation. We promised each other long ago that we would never do that to our own children. I think it’s time to honour that promise.”

“Thanks, Dad,” Mart said. In an instant, he had given his surprised father a bear hug. “Thanks, Moms.” A kiss landed on her cheek and her second son took her hand. “This means a lot to us.”

“Helen? Are you still awake?” His voice sounded lost and alone. The room was dark. They had both retired more than an hour ago. Peter, apparently, was having as much trouble sleeping as she was.

“Yes.” She rolled over to face him. “You want to talk?”

“I want to pull the covers over my head and pretend it isn’t happening.” He gave a short, humourless, laugh. “Maybe there’s something to be said for revenge by Last Will and Testament, after all.”

“I don’t think so,” she replied, draping an arm across his body. “We would have done what we did anyway, regardless of any will. And I doubt that Harold would have reconsidered his actions.”

“No,” Peter conceded. “That would have required more patience than I’ve ever seen him display. Besides, it was his big act of rebellion.”

Helen had not been around to witness her father-in-law’s fury, so many years before, but it had become something of a family legend. The announcement that his eldest son intended to move in with a woman who was actually married to someone else had elicited an instant blast of venom and a long-term plan for revenge. When his other two sons had also fallen short of his expectations, the old man had apparently gone over the edge. The resultant will was a nightmare of devious clauses and conditions.

“I’m so glad that none of our kids have rebelled against us,” she said, snuggling in. “And I’m glad that we made that promise when they were little. I don’t think I could have thought it through on the spur of the moment. I just wanted to tell Mart that he couldn’t get married, because he’s my baby.”

“I don’t think that would have gone down well,” Peter replied. He sighed, softly. “I think that was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to say. We support his decision. And now we’ll have to live by it.”

“I know,” she said. “Just remember that it’s better than the alternative.”

Tuesday, November 9, 2004

Helen walked uncertainly through the hospital corridors, looking for the Childbirth Education Room. She quickly consulted the map attached to her booking confirmation, finding that she must be almost there. Keep your chin up, she told herself, trying to ignore the churning of her stomach. It’s just the baby turning over. I’m not really that nervous about this.

When her doctor had first suggested that she take antenatal classes, she had laughed aloud. The idea seemed ridiculous - she had four successful births behind her. What good would a class do her now? After a good deal of encouragement, from both the doctor and Peter, she had finally agreed. The deciding factor had been the fact that she had never attended them before. No one ever suggested them to her when she was pregnant with Brian or Mart. Trixie had been born at Sleepyside hospital, which did not offer classes in those days and by the time that Bobby came along there did not seem very much point. Now, she wished that she had avoided them this time, too.

The corridor she was following ended in a T-intersection. A large sign indicated that she should turn to the left. After a few paces, she found the room. Taking a deep breath, she opened the door and stepped inside.

The cheerful room was set with a number of chairs. About a third of them were occupied. Some of the women were alone and some had their husbands with them. A few had apparently introduced themselves and were quietly talking. At the front of the room a middle-aged woman smiled and beckoned her over.

“And what’s your name, dear?” she asked, kindly. Helen told her and the woman marked her off on the list. “Here is some reading matter for you to take home. Just take a seat anywhere you like. We’ll be starting in a few minutes.”

Thanking the woman, Helen took the papers and sat close to the front. As she waited, she took a first, good look at the other occupants of the room. They’re all so young, she thought, feeling uncomfortable. There’s no one near my age here. At that moment, the door opened and a well-dressed woman walked in. She, too, was marked off on the list, before turning to look for somewhere to sit. Her eyes strayed across the room until she noticed Helen, then she walked purposefully towards her.

“May I sit here?” she asked. At Helen’s nod, she sat down, sighing softly. “I’m Linda,” she said, looking at Helen carefully. Her voice dropped to a whisper, “And I’m forty-three. Are you anywhere near my age?”

“Helen, and I’m forty.”

“What a relief. I’ve been feeling so silly,” the other woman confided. “I mean, I know women my age who are grandmothers. And my friends think I’ve gone mad. I always said that I’d never have children; that they were throwing their careers away, and now-” she gestured to her expanding waistline, “I have to hear all those same things said to me.”

“It’s not any better if you’ve already got kids,” Helen replied. “I’ve been feeling pretty silly, myself. I’ve got four, and the oldest three are in college. People keep telling me that I should have known better. And my youngest thinks I’ve done this on purpose to embarrass him.”

“Teenager?” There was a definite grimace in that well-made up face.

“Not even that. He’s ten.” She smiled. “Don’t even think about those sorts of things yet. I didn’t find the teenage years harder than any other stage with my older ones - though, they had their moments. Pregnancy and babyhood is enough to think about for now.”

At that moment, the instructor called for their attention and the class started. Maybe I did need this, she thought, as the midwife began to talk. She glanced at her new friend and smiled. I feel like it’s done some good already.

Wednesday, November 17, 2004

Morning sunshine was streaming in the bedroom window. Helen had slept late once again, tired from a late night and from the demands that her unborn child made on her body. She was just summoning the motivation to rise when the telephone rang.

Bother, she thought, dragging herself out of bed and sliding her feet into slippers. Peter will be gone for the morning and I’ll have to get that. She reached the kitchen and picked up the receiver, while pulling on her robe with the other hand.

“Belden residence.”

“Helen,” a familiar voice said. “Sorry to disturb you. It’s Don Taylor here. Is Peter around? I’d like to speak to him.”

“I’ll get him for you,” she replied, sincerely wishing that she had risen half an hour earlier. With her luck, Peter would be on the furthest reach of the property and she would have to walk there in her nightgown. “It may take me a few minutes. Can you hold on?”

“Sure,” he said. “Take your time.”

She was reaching for the back door to look out when it opened by itself. Her husband stopped, surprised to meet her there, then said, “Was that the phone?”

“Don Taylor,” she said, with a nod.

As he picked up the receiver and greeted his friend, she returned to the bedroom to prepare for a morning shower. She took her time selecting a comfortable outfit for the day, giving her husband privacy for his call. The bedroom door opened and he rushed in.

“I got the job,” he said, wrapping his arms around her and planting an enthusiastic kiss on her lips. “Say hello to the new supervisor at the First National Bank of Sleepyside.”

“Supervisor?” she asked, stunned. “Not your old job?”

“One step up the ladder, with remuneration to match,” he said, smiling. “Starting right after I finish up here.”

“Oh, Peter, that’s wonderful,” she said, tears of joy spilling down her face. “I’m so happy for you.”

“I’m happy for us,” he replied. “Sleepyside, here we come.”

Part Two: Honey

Tuesday, September 28, 2004

Honey got out of the car and looked up at the Riker house. With an effort, she squared her shoulders and took that first difficult step forward. She had always hated this place. Its main redeeming feature had been the presence of Aunt Caroline.

“Shall we?” she asked, with a forced smile. Her boyfriend nodded solemnly. His sister, obviously uncomfortable in her dress and heels, looked to Jim and took his arm. Together, the four approached the house. Outside, their friends waited.

“This is the place?” Di asked when the groups merged. “Impressive.”

“If you like that sort of thing,” Jim muttered.

They started up the steps together. Moments later, they were in a sumptuous room, filled with society-types. Trixie headed straight for a corner, taking Honey and Jim with her.

“I can’t stand this sort of thing,” she whispered in her friend’s ear. “Let me hide behind that plant before I make a fool of myself.”

Honey suppressed a giggle. You could always rely on Trixie to complain of social ineptitude at times like these. The conversation flowed between the three, commenting irreverently on the other occupants of the room, until a gentle hand landed on Honey’s shoulder. She jumped violently, more out of guilt than fright, and was enormously relieved to find that it was only her father. A moment later, he and Jim had excused themselves.

“Something’s wrong,” she said to Trixie, as the men left. “Did you see the look on Daddy’s face? And the envelope he was trying not to let me see. There’s something wrong and he’s keeping it from me.”

“Maybe he just wants to tell Jim first,” her friend replied, apparently distracted by something over Honey’s left shoulder. “He’ll tell you afterwards, I guess. Or, maybe it’s just to do with Jim and Jim will tell you when we get home.”

“Then why was he avoiding my eyes?” Frustrated, she tapped Trixie on the shoulder. “Are you listening?”

“Yeah,” she replied. “Avoiding your eyes. Definite sign of guilt.”

“What’s so interesting behind me?”

Trixie’s face reddened. “Your uncle?”

“What about my uncle?”

“And the woman in the green dress. Is that the one you meant before when you said she was ‘offering her condolences’?”

Without appearing to do so, Honey took a quick look. “That’s her, all right. Can’t she leave him alone?” Another hand landed on her shoulder at that moment and she almost jumped out of her skin.

“Sorry,” her cousin, Ben, said. He seemed unprepared for her reaction. “I’m so sorry, Honey. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“It’s all right,” she said, gently touching his arm. “I was just being terribly rude and I thought I’d been caught.”

“You, rude?” he said, laughing softly. “I don’t believe it.”

“It’s quite true,” Honey replied. “There’s a woman in a deep green dress-”

“Piranha,” Ben said, viciously.

“Excuse me?” His cousin was genuinely puzzled.

“Man-eater. And she’s the worst of them. I hate her.” The angry look left his face. “I’m sorry,” he repeated. “I was actually coming over here to invite you back to the family room. I don’t think I can stand to be in here any longer, with all these-”

“Of course, we’d love to,” Honey interrupted, as the anger began to rise on his face. “We’ll be there as soon as Jim comes back. Or, I could go with you now and Trixie could wait for Jim. Yes, let’s do that.”

“Thanks, Honey,” he said. He led them out of the room and into the corridor. “Jim’s in here,” he said to Trixie, indicating a door. He gave some brief directions on how to find the family room, before he and Honey left her there.

“I’m glad that we’ve got this chance to talk,” Ben said to Honey, as they walked. “I want you to know how much your friendship means to me. I’ve been thinking a lot since - since Saturday and I don’t think I’ve ever consciously noticed before, but you’ve gone above and beyond ‘cousin’.” He paused outside a door. “I want you to remember that over the next year or two.”

“Of course, I’ll remember it,” she replied, giving him a hug. “You’re definitely my friend as well as my cousin. And, you need to remember that I’ll be there for you, whenever you need me.”

“Thanks, Honey,” he said, swatting a tear away. “I’m going to need it.”

Saturday, October 9, 2004

“Where are you going, all dressed up like that?” asked Trixie lazily, as Honey headed for the front door. “Is it a garden party?”

“Why, of course,” her friend replied, apparently serious. “I have nothing better to do than sip tea and engage in idle chatter. Especially in such delightful weather.”

“I don’t recall having received an invitation to this garden party,” said Trixie, pretending to think. “Though, I have so many social engagements, it’s really quite difficult to tell.”

“Actually, it’s a kind of family meeting.”

“Jim didn’t mention it.”

“He doesn’t know.” Honey frowned. “Please, don’t tell him. Aunt Vera arranged it and she doesn’t want him there.”

Trixie shuddered. “My lips are sealed.”

Smiling her thanks, Honey continued out of the house and got into her car. I think I’d rather go to that garden party, she mused, as she drove away. Whatever Aunt Vera wants, it can’t be good.

The lights were on in the Manor House library when she arrived. The light rain, which had persisted through almost the whole journey, had increased as she neared Sleepyside. It made the room seem dark, even though it was well lit. Matthew and Madeleine Wheeler were waiting, each seeming lost in their own thoughts.

“Thank you for coming, Honey,” her father said, with barely a glance at her. “Your aunt will be with us shortly.”

There was not even time for her to reply before the doors swung open again. The well-oiled hinges let out no sound, but the gentle swish of air and quiet click were every bit as ominous as if they had groaned loudly.

“Good morning, Madeleine,” her Aunt Vera said, in solemn tones. “Please sit down.” She swept on, heedless of Honey’s murmured greeting. “When last we met, it was hardly the time for serious discussions of your future. However, the matter has not escaped my mind. A young lady in your position cannot be too careful of her conduct.” She shot a scathing look towards Matthew Wheeler. “Your father should be watchful, as should your mother, and since this is not happening, I have decided to step in.”

“Really, Aunt Vera,” said Honey, as politely as she could manage, “I don’t need-”

“Young ladies are often ignorant of what they need,” her aunt interrupted. “Any young woman of your social standing needs to be careful of her reputation. Sometimes, she needs to be particularly careful.” The old woman raised an eyebrow towards her nephew, who turned an ugly red.

“There is no reason why that should be the case for Honey,” he said, with obvious anger.

“On the contrary, Matthew,” Miss Carlton replied, “in my opinion the child is in a very delicate position. Her chances of making a suitable connection could be seriously damaged.”

Honey frowned. A ‘suitable connection’ sounded like something you used to join the computer to the sound system.

“I don’t intend to marry for social reasons,” she said, trying to sound firm. “I’m going to get a good education and have a career. If - and I really do mean if- I marry, it will be for love. Any man who won’t accept me as I am isn’t worth marrying.”

“My opinion exactly,” said her father, still angry. “Honey is not going to be someone’s trophy wife. The arrangements that her mother and I have made are completely suitable and that’s the end of the matter.”

“It is most certainly not,” said his aunt. “The girl’s virtue is at stake. Anything could be happening in that house and no one would know.”

If no one would know, Honey could not help thinking, why does it matter so much? And, anyway, that’s completely untrue! Nothing is completely unnoticed in a household of seven people, especially when the seven people are the Bob-Whites!

“One of those men,” (Aunt Vera said the word as if it had a nasty taste) “could be taking advantage of her.”

“I can assure you that they’re not,” Honey said, filling the words with all of the outrage she felt. “None of them would do anything like that!”

The old woman lifted a disbelieving eyebrow.

“My decision stands,” said Matthew Wheeler, frowning deeply. “Aunt Vera, I appreciate your concern, but I have already considered everything that you have said. You heard Honey yourself: she is not interested in pursuing a social position. That is her decision and I support it completely. I think we can say that the matter is now closed.”

“This is very short-sighted of you, Matthew,” she replied. “I am quite sure you will live to regret this decision.” The door closed behind her with a sharp click. Without a word, Matthew followed her.

“They will both calm down, when they’ve had a little time,” said Honey’s mother. In the course of the argument, she had remained silent and almost forgotten. “Your aunt will support you in public, even if she condemns your behaviour in private.”

Honey nodded thoughtfully. “But it’s the private condemnation that worries me.”

“Oh! Are you okay?” Di asked, as Honey walked in the front door later that day. “You look like you’ve been battling ferocious beasts, or something.”

“No,” she replied. “Just Aunt Vera.”

“Even worse,” Di said, with a grin. She dropped her voice to a whisper. “I’ve got some chocolate in my room. Come and tell me all about it.”

Unseen by the other members of the household, the two entered Di’s room and softly closed the door. Di tossed an assortment of pillows onto the floor and produced the promised treat.

“Just what I needed,” said Honey, around a mouthful of chocolate. She sank into the pile of pillows and closed her eyes. “Today has just been a nightmare. I can hardly believe some of the things Aunt Vera said about me - and about living here.”

“She still wants you to leave?”

“She thinks my virtue is at risk.”

Di giggled. “Only if you still have it. And considering that you and Brian seem to have been getting on a lot better lately…”

Honey assumed an innocent pose. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Yes, you do. The last two or three weeks have been blissfully free of arguments between the two of you. Now, spill!”

“I’m not sure that I want to,” she said, in a soft voice. “It’s kind of embarrassing.”

“Please? I promise I won’t laugh, and I won’t tell a soul.”

“I don’t know why I’m doing this,” muttered Honey, “but here goes: you remember the night when the body was discovered, with Jim’s ID?” Di nodded. “Later, after you’d gone out, Brian and I had a big fight. I really wanted someone to talk to about it, but the only ones here were Jim and Trixie, so I talked to Trix.”

“You didn’t.”

“I did.” She took a deep breath. “She gave me something, from a web site.”

“Not the one about how to seduce a man?”

“You know about that?”

“I was the one who found it,” said Di. “You didn’t think that Trixie went looking for that sort of thing, did you?”

“Well, yes, I guess I did. I mean, she’s - well, I think she has, or, at least, it looks like she did and, now that I think of it, she said she’d tried some, so I kind of thought that she’d, well, started that way.” She blushed, then took a calming breath. “But, anyway, I thought it couldn’t hurt, so I read it and went to talk to Brian.”

“And you tried one of them on him? Which one?”

Honey’s face began to turn pink all over again. “I didn’t, exactly. All I asked him was for him to give me a back massage, skin on skin.”

“And did he?”

“Yes.”

“And then?”

“It was very nice.”

“And then?”

The pink on her cheeks deepened. “Well, the next thing I know, we’re face to face and he’s on top of me and things are moving rather a lot too fast and I kind of got… scared, I guess.” She paused to take another square of chocolate. “We talked about it the next day, and I swear he scared me on purpose. I mean, he wasn’t laughing at me or anything, but there was something in his manner. So, we’re basically back where we started, except that I’ve decided to trust Brian’s judgement.”

“Those Beldens,” said Di, with exasperation. “They just have to have their own way, by any means available.”

“You think I’m right about him doing it on purpose?”

“I know you’re right, Honey.” She grinned suddenly. “And your Aunt Vera’s right as well: your ‘virtue’ is most definitely at risk here. Brian didn’t try to scare you right away; he just wanted to be the one to set the pace.”

Sunday, October 24, 2004

A gentle tapping on the door pulled Honey’s attention away from the essay she was drafting. After she had called a distracted, “Come in,” the door opened a tiny way and Di’s face appeared in the crack.

“Come out for a minute? It’s important.”

Sighing with frustration, Honey went out to see what was the matter. Once outside, she found the rest of the household assembled in the nearest living area. Trixie was impatiently moving from one foot to the other, whilst casting suspicious glances at Mart.

“Finally, we’re all here,” she said. “Now, please, tell us what this is all about, or do I have to start guessing?”

“Okay, Trix,” said Mart, with a smile. “Now, this is in strictest confidence, you understand?”

“Yes, yes,” said Trixie.

“You’ve all got to promise not to say a word until we say so, okay?”

“Mart!” cried Trixie. “You can trust us! Get on with it!”

Honey hid a smile at her friend’s antics. There was an underlying excitement there. She was almost sure that Trixie had already guessed what her almost-twin was going to say.

“We promise,” said Honey, hoping that this would speed things up a little. Around her, the others repeated the same words.

“Well,” said Mart, looking at Diana, “we’ve got some news and we thought you’d like to know first.”

Honey glanced at Trixie, noting with amusement the sheer frustration written on her friend’s face. You could almost see the next hurry-up sentence forming. Turning her attention to Mart, she was surprised to see that he looked reluctant to continue. Diana took his hand and squeezed.

“Maybe it would help if I showed them,” she said, holding out her left hand and the diamond sparkling on her third finger.

The room spun around Honey for a moment. She absolutely could not believe what was happening. She was fairly sure, on the other hand, that one of the startled gasps she heard was her own. Trixie was apparently not surprised at all. Her hug had almost knocked Mart off his feet.

“And when do I get you for a sister?” she heard Trixie ask Di, muffled slightly by the hug she was giving her.

“On Christmas Eve,” Di replied. “Finals have to be finished by the twenty-third. You’re all available, aren’t you?”

“Of course we are,” said Trixie, hugging Mart all over again. “We wouldn’t miss it for the world!”

“I think he might like to breathe a little,” said Jim, gently disentangling her.

“Thank you,” said Mart, pretending to gasp for breath. “And now, if you’ll excuse us, we have some parents to inform.”

“I just need to get my purse,” Di said, slipping off towards her room. Before she had gotten very far, Honey caught her arm.

“Can we have a word?” she whispered. Di nodded in response, indicating her room.

“And what do you think that you’re doing, Ms. Lynch?” Honey demanded, as soon as the door was closed behind them. “How did I hear no warning of this little development?” Di shrugged elegantly, but said nothing. “Surely, you didn’t just decide this morning that you’d like to get married? There must have been something before now!”

“We’ve been talking about it for a while,” Di admitted. “Besides, it was last night that he asked me.”

“Details, details!” Once again, there was no answer. “Diana Margaret Lynch! You- What?” Her friend had dissolved into near-hysterical laughter.

“You sounded just like my mother,” she finally managed to say. “Which reminds me, I’ve got to get ready to go. My parents would kill me if they knew we’d told all of you before we told them - Mart’s parents, too, probably.”

“I’m glad you did, though,” said Honey, in a small voice. “I can’t believe that you’re actually getting married, but I’m so honoured that you wanted me to know about it.”

“You’re one of my best friends,” said Di, pulling her into a hug. “Of course I wanted you to know. And I probably would have told you we were talking about it, but I really didn’t think it would be this soon. And I’ll tell you all about the proposal later - after we’ve told both sets of parents.”

“Good luck,” said Honey, trying to hold back her tears.

“Thanks, Honey. I think I’m going to need it. My mother is going to kill me!”