When the first happy hour had gone by, Jim became suspicious. Robin was being a shade to quiet.
Most parents fight occasional losing battles with their children at some time or the other. But with child like Robin, you can never win!
Just Pretending a short story by Sheila Frazer
Illustrated by Tanat Jones
Just Pretending a short story by Sheila Frazer
Illustrated by Tanat Jones
IT was young Mr. Percy's favourite time of the year, of the week, and of the day. To be precise Whitsuntide, Whit Saturday, and that nostalgic, just after tea time hour when the gnats begin to gather beneath the trees and the bath time shrieks .of small boys remind parents that even the most exuberant of children must at last, like the birds, settle into downy sleep.
At this hour, Jim Percy liked to stroll in his garden and admire the blossom on the cherry tree; to take a pair of secateurs from his pocket and gently prune the rose bush; to uproot an especially fine lettuce to take indoors to Nonie, and perhaps even set a match to a bonfire carefully laid earlier in the day, Then finally, when all these happy tasks were attended to, he liked to sit on the little stone wall he had built himself and gloat over the splendour, the magnificence, of his wallflowers!
But on this particular Saturday poor Jim's happiness was sadly quenched. The blossom was there, the rose bush, the lettuces, even the bonfire. But his wallflowers !
There they lay in neat swathes, sheared as if by a master hand in all their glory of flaming yellow.
Presently he would gather them up in armfuls and take them into the house, and Nonie would distribute them amongst friends and relations, but now just for a brief, reverent, few minutes young Mr. Percy was going to wallow in his grief.
So deep in thought was he that he allowed himself to be taken unawares by Mr. Duffin, his next door neighbour, who suddenly popped up no the other side, of the fence.
"Evening," began Mr. Duffin cheerily, and then he saw the devastation and fell silent. For a moment or two he contemplated the massacred wallflowers. Then at last he spoke, briefly and to the point.
"Smack him?"
"What's the use?" Jim countered drearily. Actually he hadn't had time to take any kind of action, for Nonie had flown at him like a tigress. "The shears shouldn't have been left where , he could get them. He might have cut his fingers off!"
"Quite," agreed Mr. Duffin succintly. "You can't win, can you?" And he stumped off back down his own garden path.
Jim sank down on his little wall and brooded upon the truth of this remark. No! parents and fathers in particular, just couldn't win.
His mind went back over the past months to the start of the whole business.
It had begun on another Saturday afternoon. It was a winter one, with a light drizzle streaking the windowpanes, a log fire burning brightly, and one of the season's most exciting soccer matches on the radio.
Nonie had gone shopping, and Robin was restless and seemed to be feeling dissatisfied and irritable with all his toys. A wooden engine had hurtled through the air and struck Jim on the back of the head, and two building blocks had had to be rescued from the fire.
"They wouldn't do what I wanted!" wailed Robin.
"Why don't you play a pretending game?" suggested his father, desperate for peace and quiet. "Pretend to be a coleman taking sacks of coal into the kitchen."
Robin looked intrigued, but rejected the idea of pretending to be a coalman. "I'm going to pretend to be you, Daddy," he said.
"Splendid!" said Jim heartily, leaning forward and switching up the volume of the radio, for it looked as if a goal might be scored by the side he claim as his own.
Robin went out of the room, and presently reappeared wearing his father's hat and carrying his umbrella and, a rolled-up newspaper.
"Pretending to be Daddy going to work," he explained seriously.
"Careful with Daddy's hat, won't you old man?" his father said vaguely, his attention diverted by a roar from the radio that almost shattered the loudspeaker.
THE football match was over when he thought of Robin again, Then, with alarm chilling the blood in his veins, he leaped out of his armchair and sped in search of him.
He didn't have to look far, Robin was in the bathroom. Had been there quite some time by the look of things.
Jim's tube of toothpaste had been squeezed out and applied decoratively to the bath and washbasin. Robin had got up a pretty fair lather of shaving soap and was in the process of shaving himself, fortunately with a bladeless razor and Crackers, the Percys' mongrel dog, was delicately tasting a pool of Jim's best hair-cream.
He had seen the funny side, and so had Nonie. And they had stupidly made the mistake of retailing the incident to one or two of their friends actually in Robin's presence.
That was where they had made a grave mistake.
A few days later Jim had come home from the office with all the makings of a cold, and had decided to take a bath immediately, then have his evening meal in dressing gown and pyjamas and have an early night.
Robin, already bathed and ready for bed, was waiting for his bedtime reading session.
The bath water had been gloriously hot, but no sooner had Mr. Percy , settled his aching limbs into a tubful of it than the bathroom light went out.
He had thought it was a played-out bulb, and had shouted for Nome, but Nonie had called through the door that it must be a power cut for all the lights in the house were out.
By the time he had got himself out of the bath, dry and clad Nonie had unearthed some candles and built up the sitting-room fire to a wonderful blaze.
The flickering light of the candles gave the room a cosy atmosphere, and Robin, in dressing-gown and slippers and with hair neatly parted, looked like one of the Darling children from Peter Pan.
He flatly refused to go to bed in the dark, so they sat round the fire, the three of them, and Jim read a fairy story, and then they sang nursery rhymes and other children's songs. Crackers accompanied them from his corner. It was a happy hour.
At half-past seven Jim said: "How long do these power cuts usually last?
"I don't remember," Nonie said uncertainly. "It's ages and ages since we had one and then it was in the morning."
And it was only when she said that that it occurred to Jim to part the curtains and look out of the window. All down the road lights blazed in their, neighbours' front rooms.
Grimly Jim Percy took his torch and proceeded to the cupboard where the fuse boxes were, followed closely by a deceptively angelic, looking Robin. He found, as he had expected, all four switches pulled down into the Off position.
"I was just pretending to be you, Daddy," explained Robin, all blinking and owl-eyed. And he gave an enormous yawn.
So it went on all through the winter, and the spring, and always the cry, the explanation: "I was just pretending, Daddy. Just pretending."
As Jim stopped to gather up armfuls of the wallflowers he became aware of Robin watching him. Robin's expression was sorrowful. You could see that he had been just pretending , to be someone or something.
But Jim wasn't going to melt.
"You shouldn’t be out here in your dressing-gown," he said sternly.
Tears welled up in Robin's blue eyes. He looked like Crackers when he'd had his paw trodden on.
"Are you warm enough?" Jim asked, unable to prevent a note of anxiety creeping into his voice.
Robin nodded.
Jim went on gathering up the cut wallflowers. There were literally dozens of them. It was almost too much to bear.
Tenderly Jim set them down in a corner. Then he fetched the garden hose and unwound it, setting the nozzle end of it in the crotch of his garden fork preparatory to watering the lawn.
"I think you had better go in now," he said to Robin.
"Just let me see the water start to come out," Robin begged. And added winningly: "Please, Daddy."
His father looked dubious. "All right," he said at last. .. But don't touch the hose. If I find so much as a single drop of water on you I really will smack you."
JIM went round the side of the house and into the kitchen, where he connected the hose to the cold tap and turned on the water.
As he rounded the corner of the house on his return journey the jet of water hit him first in the chest, then in the face. It was very very cold indeed. Jim was not so much shocked as amazed at his own innocence.
Seconds later he and Robin surveyed each other across a muddy pool of water. Jim was drenched. There was not a single drop of water anywhere on Robin.
"Don't say it!" said Jim grimly. "I'm sure you were just pretending."
Robin nodded gravely. "Just pretending to be Daddy," he agreed.
Hand in hand they went indoors.
"You won't need a bath tonight, Daddy," Robin consoled.
Jim said nothing.
"Daddy," said Robin tenderly, as they neared his bedroom."Will I have you for a long time, if I don't wear you out?"
It was a stock question and stock answer rolled into one.
His father considered it carefully.
" Yes," he said at last. " Yes, I expect you'll have me for quite a long time, old chap."
In his own bedroom, peeling off his sodden clothes, he thought to himself that although Robin might have him for a long time he certainly would not have Robin for very long. Not Robin as he was now.
By next May the Robin of last year, of this year, would be gone for ever, with only the family snapshot album to show that he had once existed. Time, it seemed, was both the friend and the enemy of parents.
And he remembered his next-door neighbour saying: "You can't win." It was perfectly true. But who wanted to win, anyway?........ the end
At this hour, Jim Percy liked to stroll in his garden and admire the blossom on the cherry tree; to take a pair of secateurs from his pocket and gently prune the rose bush; to uproot an especially fine lettuce to take indoors to Nonie, and perhaps even set a match to a bonfire carefully laid earlier in the day, Then finally, when all these happy tasks were attended to, he liked to sit on the little stone wall he had built himself and gloat over the splendour, the magnificence, of his wallflowers!
But on this particular Saturday poor Jim's happiness was sadly quenched. The blossom was there, the rose bush, the lettuces, even the bonfire. But his wallflowers !
There they lay in neat swathes, sheared as if by a master hand in all their glory of flaming yellow.
Presently he would gather them up in armfuls and take them into the house, and Nonie would distribute them amongst friends and relations, but now just for a brief, reverent, few minutes young Mr. Percy was going to wallow in his grief.
So deep in thought was he that he allowed himself to be taken unawares by Mr. Duffin, his next door neighbour, who suddenly popped up no the other side, of the fence.
"Evening," began Mr. Duffin cheerily, and then he saw the devastation and fell silent. For a moment or two he contemplated the massacred wallflowers. Then at last he spoke, briefly and to the point.
"Smack him?"
"What's the use?" Jim countered drearily. Actually he hadn't had time to take any kind of action, for Nonie had flown at him like a tigress. "The shears shouldn't have been left where , he could get them. He might have cut his fingers off!"
"Quite," agreed Mr. Duffin succintly. "You can't win, can you?" And he stumped off back down his own garden path.
Jim sank down on his little wall and brooded upon the truth of this remark. No! parents and fathers in particular, just couldn't win.
His mind went back over the past months to the start of the whole business.
It had begun on another Saturday afternoon. It was a winter one, with a light drizzle streaking the windowpanes, a log fire burning brightly, and one of the season's most exciting soccer matches on the radio.
Nonie had gone shopping, and Robin was restless and seemed to be feeling dissatisfied and irritable with all his toys. A wooden engine had hurtled through the air and struck Jim on the back of the head, and two building blocks had had to be rescued from the fire.
"They wouldn't do what I wanted!" wailed Robin.
"Why don't you play a pretending game?" suggested his father, desperate for peace and quiet. "Pretend to be a coleman taking sacks of coal into the kitchen."
Robin looked intrigued, but rejected the idea of pretending to be a coalman. "I'm going to pretend to be you, Daddy," he said.
"Splendid!" said Jim heartily, leaning forward and switching up the volume of the radio, for it looked as if a goal might be scored by the side he claim as his own.
Robin went out of the room, and presently reappeared wearing his father's hat and carrying his umbrella and, a rolled-up newspaper.
"Pretending to be Daddy going to work," he explained seriously.
"Careful with Daddy's hat, won't you old man?" his father said vaguely, his attention diverted by a roar from the radio that almost shattered the loudspeaker.
THE football match was over when he thought of Robin again, Then, with alarm chilling the blood in his veins, he leaped out of his armchair and sped in search of him.
He didn't have to look far, Robin was in the bathroom. Had been there quite some time by the look of things.
Jim's tube of toothpaste had been squeezed out and applied decoratively to the bath and washbasin. Robin had got up a pretty fair lather of shaving soap and was in the process of shaving himself, fortunately with a bladeless razor and Crackers, the Percys' mongrel dog, was delicately tasting a pool of Jim's best hair-cream.
He had seen the funny side, and so had Nonie. And they had stupidly made the mistake of retailing the incident to one or two of their friends actually in Robin's presence.
That was where they had made a grave mistake.
A few days later Jim had come home from the office with all the makings of a cold, and had decided to take a bath immediately, then have his evening meal in dressing gown and pyjamas and have an early night.
Robin, already bathed and ready for bed, was waiting for his bedtime reading session.
The bath water had been gloriously hot, but no sooner had Mr. Percy , settled his aching limbs into a tubful of it than the bathroom light went out.
He had thought it was a played-out bulb, and had shouted for Nome, but Nonie had called through the door that it must be a power cut for all the lights in the house were out.
By the time he had got himself out of the bath, dry and clad Nonie had unearthed some candles and built up the sitting-room fire to a wonderful blaze.
The flickering light of the candles gave the room a cosy atmosphere, and Robin, in dressing-gown and slippers and with hair neatly parted, looked like one of the Darling children from Peter Pan.
He flatly refused to go to bed in the dark, so they sat round the fire, the three of them, and Jim read a fairy story, and then they sang nursery rhymes and other children's songs. Crackers accompanied them from his corner. It was a happy hour.
At half-past seven Jim said: "How long do these power cuts usually last?
"I don't remember," Nonie said uncertainly. "It's ages and ages since we had one and then it was in the morning."
And it was only when she said that that it occurred to Jim to part the curtains and look out of the window. All down the road lights blazed in their, neighbours' front rooms.
Grimly Jim Percy took his torch and proceeded to the cupboard where the fuse boxes were, followed closely by a deceptively angelic, looking Robin. He found, as he had expected, all four switches pulled down into the Off position.
"I was just pretending to be you, Daddy," explained Robin, all blinking and owl-eyed. And he gave an enormous yawn.
So it went on all through the winter, and the spring, and always the cry, the explanation: "I was just pretending, Daddy. Just pretending."
As Jim stopped to gather up armfuls of the wallflowers he became aware of Robin watching him. Robin's expression was sorrowful. You could see that he had been just pretending , to be someone or something.
But Jim wasn't going to melt.
"You shouldn’t be out here in your dressing-gown," he said sternly.
Tears welled up in Robin's blue eyes. He looked like Crackers when he'd had his paw trodden on.
"Are you warm enough?" Jim asked, unable to prevent a note of anxiety creeping into his voice.
Robin nodded.
Jim went on gathering up the cut wallflowers. There were literally dozens of them. It was almost too much to bear.
Tenderly Jim set them down in a corner. Then he fetched the garden hose and unwound it, setting the nozzle end of it in the crotch of his garden fork preparatory to watering the lawn.
"I think you had better go in now," he said to Robin.
"Just let me see the water start to come out," Robin begged. And added winningly: "Please, Daddy."
His father looked dubious. "All right," he said at last. .. But don't touch the hose. If I find so much as a single drop of water on you I really will smack you."
JIM went round the side of the house and into the kitchen, where he connected the hose to the cold tap and turned on the water.
As he rounded the corner of the house on his return journey the jet of water hit him first in the chest, then in the face. It was very very cold indeed. Jim was not so much shocked as amazed at his own innocence.
Seconds later he and Robin surveyed each other across a muddy pool of water. Jim was drenched. There was not a single drop of water anywhere on Robin.
"Don't say it!" said Jim grimly. "I'm sure you were just pretending."
Robin nodded gravely. "Just pretending to be Daddy," he agreed.
Hand in hand they went indoors.
"You won't need a bath tonight, Daddy," Robin consoled.
Jim said nothing.
"Daddy," said Robin tenderly, as they neared his bedroom."Will I have you for a long time, if I don't wear you out?" It was a stock question and stock answer rolled into one.
His father considered it carefully.
" Yes," he said at last. " Yes, I expect you'll have me for quite a long time, old chap."
In his own bedroom, peeling off his sodden clothes, he thought to himself that although Robin might have him for a long time he certainly would not have Robin for very long. Not Robin as he was now.
By next May the Robin of last year, of this year, would be gone for ever, with only the family snapshot album to show that he had once existed. Time, it seemed, was both the friend and the enemy of parents.
And he remembered his next-door neighbour saying: "You can't win." It was perfectly true. But who wanted to win, anyway?........ the end
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