Phone Conversation

[jbz2079]

Good as usuall, we wait to see what happens next???????

[alex 04]

nice update kinda brougt home what happing where i am

[freswith]

Many thanks jbz and Alex. I take it that you are an Army wife, Alex? I hope I haven't given you any bad dreams!

I hope to put another episode up over the weekend - I've only got it half-written as yet, and there are some plot lines still to be decided. Not least how to handle Holly!

[alex 04]

Many thanks jbz and Alex. I take it that you are an Army wife, Alex? I hope I haven't given you any bad dreams!

I hope to put another episode up over the weekend - I've only got it half-written as yet, and there are some plot lines still to be decided. Not least how to handle Holly!

yeah am a army wife but my hubby not out in afgan but had a lot of friends out there for the last 6 months

his unit could be going out next year

[freswith]

I wish you all the best for his tour. Sometimes I am quite glad to be too old for service now. The Cold War might have been daft, but at least it was relatively safe, and played by well-established rules.

Here's another episode. I hope you all enjoy it.

[freswith]

Sharing Secrets

Matt strode out to the car looking thunderous. "I've fixed it with them." he said, presumably meaning his partners in the practice. "But do you know what that bloody woman said? She said that Simon shouldn't have been in Afghanistan in the first place, that he'd no business to be there, and now he was just clogging up bed space that would be better used for sick people!"

"Don't let it get to you. A doctor she may be, but she's just a silly fool all the same. They always say that she has no bedside manner at all. That's why the patients prefer to see you." Amelia was doing her best to calm him down. He was driving us, after all.

Amelia and I had left at an early hour, and avoided the traffic during the run up to Matt's place, bowling along through the crisp air of an autumn morning, and humming across Bodmin Moor at a thoroughly shameful speed. Amelia, being accustomed to London traffic, would brook no delay from the dithering locals, and after an invigorating - terrifying - ride, during which she spared nobody, we arrived at Matt's in time for a quick breakfast and comfort break. Then we set off for Birmingham in Matt's more respectable car at a more respectable pace, and joined the motorway.

Amelia half turned and said "Of course I'd never drive on the motorway with the roof down."

"Too much noise and wind?"

"That and other things. Look...."

We were passing a car towing a caravan. Amelia looked towards the driver, tossed her hair and flashed him a dazzling smile. He did a double take, and the caravan began to snake wildly.

"AMELIA! Stop It! Naughty Girl!" snapped Matt.

"Oooh Daddy! Don't be unkind! Just having fun! Is Daddy going to punish Poor Little Amelia then?" she pouted towards Matt. To his credit he kept the car straight.

"No. Not now. Later, maybe, if you're bad."

"Oooooohhh, Daddy! Is that a promise?" and she stroked his inner thigh. Matt had enormous self-control; the car barely wavered.

"Remember we've got a passenger in the back. Two passengers, in fact."

"Oh, so sorry, Daddy."

Amelia turned towards me again. "He really keeps me under control, you know."

"That's never been possible. How does he manage it?"

"Smacks my bottom and puts me in a nappy. Makes me wear it all night. Until I can persuade him to take it off."

"How do you do that?"

"The usual way. You know what they say: There's no such thing as an impotent man, only a lazy woman. I just keep on teasing him until he has to rip it off!"

"What do you do if you need to go?"

"That's the final threat; I haven't had to use it yet."

"For God's sake don't tell Peter about all this. It'll give him ideas."

"Does he need any ideas?"

"No. He's quite active, but God knows when he'll be fit enough, and I'll be free enough."

"Oh, I think you'll find it'll help his recovery no end."

"I hope it isn't his end that needs to recover. I just hope he still has an end."

I mused for a while. It was true that there had always been this little tickle in the back of my mind, and I knew how Peter responded to the same stimulus, but I had just been too close to the stinking reality of nappies to pursue the erotic possibilities of them, as Amelia obviously had.

I was still a bit worried about Holly, and felt guilty about transferring the responsibility to Mum, although I realised that was just what grandmothers were for. Holly had woken up dry, and tonight she would have to negotiate with Mum. I suspect that Mum, from what she had said the night before, would be anything but a soft touch, but then she would be anxious to keep things simple, and Holly-in-a-nappy was simpler than handling a bedwetting situation. I began to appreciate Gran's approach for the first time; it was easier to put the troublesome child back into nappies and let her wet than to try and sort out her real problems. It avoided transgressing the mother's prerogatives, and it was better to keep quiet about it, but it kept the peace.

I realised that I was in the company of two experts in the situation, and I shared my thoughts with them. Both were surprisingly positive.

"She's associated nappies with babyhood and with security." said Matt. "She's been severely upset by Peter's wounding, and has reverted to a state where she was cared for completely, body and soul, and has chosen to re-enact that situation. So far, so good - it's better than bottling it up inside until it forces its way out like an abscess - but the problem arises that she will make a habit of it, like Amelia has." - Amelia looked sharply at him - "Not necessarily a bad thing, but it can become a lifetime habit. Not good - but probably better than having a nervous breakdown about it."

"Yes, but what do we do with her? Do we play her along and keep her in nappies?"

Matt thought for a while. "Probably not." he said, "You're reinforcing the weakness. Better to ignore the bedwetting. She'll stop when she realises she can't get her way, and the bedwetting will stop when the source of stress - Peter's unknown situation - is removed."

"I'm not so sure, Doctor Johnson!" said Amelia with a hint of sarcasm, "She's going to worry herself sick that she's going to wet the bed. It's all stress, and then wetting the bed will add to the stress that's already on her. If you let her wear a nappy, then the pressure on her is much less."

"I'm not so sure, the problem is also what Jack will say. Holly's always been very sensitive to his taunts."

"How did you used to handle it?" asked Matt.

"If it got too bad I would threaten to put him in a nappy, too. That would normally shut him up."

"Ooooh, that's cruel!" said Amelia, "Very crushing on a small boy."

"I didn't have to do it often, and it became a bit of a joke in the end; we could both laugh at it."

"How have you left it with Mum? After all, she will have to make the actual decision."

"I've given her a free hand. She should know as well as anybody what the child might do, and she will have to wash the sheets if she gets it wrong."

"Mum's always been a bit pro-nappies," said Amelia, "I seem to remember it was you who first let me try a night without them. Mum was still humming and hawing when you took the plunge. How do you think she would have reacted if you or I had started wetting again?"

"What was her favourite phrase? Once is Happenstance, Twice is Coincidence, Three times is Enemy Action. I don't know where she got that from. I suspect that after the third time we would have been nappied without any choice in the matter."

"It's from James Bond - Goldfinger, I think." replied Matt. "That sounds reasonable. Holly's only done it the once so far, then?"

"Only the once. Happenstance. Let's hope to God it stays that way!"

We arrived at the hospital at Selly Oak just before lunchtime, but my stomach was full of butterflies in fear of what I might find when I saw Peter. It wasn't as bad as I'd feared, but it wasn't good. He looked pale and sunken beneath an enormous number of bandages, had a frame over his leg, and seemed to be wired up to a number of machines and bottles, but he was still breathing. I went over and took his free hand, and he opened his eyes and smiled at me. My pulse and blood pressure dropped to something near normal, and I negotiated a path through his various bandages and tubes to kiss him. Damn the hygiene! I just wanted to reassure myself that it was really Peter and he was really alive. We murmured our greetings carefully, and Peter asked after the baby, commenting on my enormous size. I reassured him that all was well, and he gently chided me for taking the risk of the journey so near term. I pointed out that I had brought my own doctor with me, and he forgave me. Amelia went round his other side and Matt made an excuse and went to talk to the staff. Peter told me what had happened, and how he had tried to bring the helo down in one piece and without it crashing onto its side, and his dim memory of being carried across to the other helo like a sack of potatoes, then waking up in the field hospital. I told him what Simon had said, and when I got to the bit about the technical manual he even managed a laugh. "Seven pages from my bum? A good thing someone had done the amendments!"

Erica returned at that moment, having evidently been here for much of the morning., and Amelia made way for her so she could resume her position by her son. While doing so, Amelia caught the eye of the fellow in the next bed who had recognised her, and was plainly anxious to meet her. She started a conversation with him, and then with the next man, and ended up working the whole ward, autographing plaster casts and chatting up each patient, demonstrating the healing effect that a beautiful woman can have on wounded men. Amazingly the various wives and girlfriends tolerated her chatting up their menfolk, and the improvement in morale was almost tangible. Several cameras were produced, and Amelia was required to pose with the wounded heroes, which she enjoyed doing .

By and by Matt came back, and gave us an expert summary of Peter's wounds, condition and prognosis. I think Peter was grateful, as he was savvy enough to realise that the staff might try to humour him, but he knew and trusted Matt to give him the true situation. It wasn't as bad as it might have been; Peter had been hit by several splinters, and been badly bruised by the blast, but no vital organs had been hit. There were one or two small splinters still in him, and he would need another operation to remove one that was close to his spine, and better delved for in the calm of a hospital than in the simpler theatre of the MASH. They would wait a day or two for his bruising to reduce and for him to strengthen before they operated, after which the prognosis was for a full recovery. My blood pressure dropped a few more points.

Amelia came back, towing another figure in a dressing gown, with his arm in a sling. "Look who I found in the next ward!" she said.

"What are you doing here Simon? I thought you were still in Afghanistan with only a scratch?"

"When I told the Surgeon Commander about Vickie's condition she decided that my little scratch was a bit more than that. The Wing Commander was only too pleased to agree - he said my helo was well shot up, and wouldn't be fit to fly for at least a week either, and since I had less than three weeks to go, they decided to get rid of me, so here I am."

"Does Vickie know?"

"Not yet. I just got in less than an hour ago. I thought I'd surprise her."

"I think you'd better tell her straight away. She's really very worried about you, you know, particularly after what happened to Peter." He nodded, and was towed away again by Amelia to a place where her mobile could be used safely.

I was very tired by the time I got back to Erica's house, and ruing the fact that a glass of sherry was a no-no in my present condition. I slumped gratefully into one of her large armchairs and reviewed the day. I'd got Peter back. A little damaged and dented to be sure, but repairable and should be back to full health in a month or two. He would probably be back home in a week or ten days and hopefully my baby would wait for him to arrive first. I would then have only two basket-cases to look after, and Holly and Jack would have to pull their weight a little. I thought of all the provisioning that I would have to do in terms of food, and then about my probable confinement at the same time. Someone would have to look after Holly and Jack. And Peter. Oh God! It was all so much! Mum, where are you? It struck me suddenly that I hadn't called her, and begging Erica's permission, I used her phone to report the events and Peter's condition to my family in Cornwall. She told me that she intended to stay in the cottage at least until I was at home with my new baby, and with my old one as well. I thanked her deeply, and then asked about the children. She had just got Holly to bed, and with some trepidation I asked about the state of her loins. Mum replied that they had discussed the matter, and had been surprised when Holly had asked for a nappy, and astonished when, despite Mum's best arguments to the contrary, Holly had insisted on wearing one. "Just to make sure.," she said, "she wanted to feel safe and secure."

Oh Granpa, you were so right! Twenty-four hours on, and I'll be worrying about something else.

[Pollyanna Fleshman]

You had better continue this story. It is so freaking awesome!

[freswith]

Oh, if you insist! Thank you for your kindness. Hers is the next one. I fear that if I take it much further, it will have to be moved into the future, but that isn't impossible. I might even infill a few episodes where I have left a slot like this.

[freswith]

My Kingdom for a Cup of Tea!

I sunk back into the chair with gratitude. Mission Complete! Peter's operation had been successful, and he was well on the road to recovery. He had even persuaded me to return to Cornwall with Simon as the expected arrival of our new daughter was now only a week away, and he didn't want me to have her on the floor of Selly Oak Hospital. I suggested if she was, then we might call her Sally, but Peter riposted that if she was born in Helston we certainly wouldn't be calling her Hell. He suggested that I go home, but not via Scunthorpe, Berkhamstead or Cockfosters. I had to agree; it was so good to see Peter laughing again, and apparently oblivious to any pain it might have cost him. On reflection, I said that I rather liked Sally. Sally Simmonds. It went rather well, and blended well with Holly and Jack. Nice simple calling names. Peter nodded, and suggested we add Georgina after Gran, and so it was settled. If the scan turned out to be wrong, we thought of David and then added Gordon, after Peter's father.

Peter was expected to be returned home to convalesce in the next week or so anyway, and I just hoped the baby would wait that long. I had no qualms about leaving him to the tender care of the nurses and the temptation they might present. I had met Wayne, the staff nurse, and his hairy forearms were nearly as thick as my thighs; he really wasn't Peter's type at all.... I hope!

Mum brought me a cup of tea. It was so good to relax after all the upsets and all the travelling.

"First the big news. Vickie has gone into hospital. About an hour ago. I expect we'll have a new baby by tomorrow." she said.

"She's beat me to it then. I hope to God she's going to be all right. You never quite know with the first."

"There speaks the voice of experience."

"How have the kids been?"

"Good as gold. Never a peep out of them." she replied.

"Has Holly been dry?"

There was a brief delay before she replied. "Her bed has been dry."

My heart fell. "Go on..."

"I can't fathom it. It's as though she actually likes wearing nappies."

I needed a moment to think, and raised the teacup to my lips. It was still a little too hot for comfort. "Still?...Every night?"

"Well, yes. She asked me to put them on her, and I nearly did. I could see the logic of it, and I didn't want her waking in a wet bed with all that implies, but I didn't want to encourage her. She eventually put them on herself."

"Did she wet them?"

"Only one night. That was the night I had told her would have to be the last if she stayed dry."

Once is happenstance. Twice is coincidence. I wasn't going to wait for enemy action. I put the teacup down with a click, and made to get up. "Has she finished her bath, I wonder?"

"You stay there. I'll go and look." She went upstairs. I picked the teacup up again. Just then the doorbell rang. Mum was still upstairs, so I lowered the teacup untasted and went to the door. It was Jean Bainbridge, so I let her in and returned to the lounge with her. We were halfway through discussing Peter's welfare when Mum returned. She greeted Jean, then turned to me and said: "Yes. She is. Again." I made my excuses to Jean, and made my way slowly upstairs to have some firm words with Holly.

I found her in her bedroom, sitting at her dressing table, brushing her long hair. She was wearing a short pyjama top and a nappy.

"Hi Mum! I was just coming down to wish you goodnight."

"Not like that I hope!"

"Like what?"

"With a nappy on. You really shouldn't be wearing one, you know that!"

"Aww, Mum, I really do. I had an accident only the night before last...."

"We can't have you back in nappies. Accident or no. Are you sure it was an accident? It sounds rather odd that Mum was trying to stop you wearing them that very night. You're a big girl now and you shouldn't have accidents. Big girls don't have them. You're going to take it off right n.... Oh God!" The pain racked me. It had started. I clutched the doorframe to hold me steady and tried to breathe as the spasm gripped me. Then my waters broke.

"Mum! MUM! What's the matter? You've had an accident!"

"Oh GOD! It's the baby! It's coming!"

Holly jumped to her feet, and ran across to me. "Mum, Mum, what can I do?"

I caught my breath as the pain subsided a little. "Fetch Gran. She'll handle it."

Holly ran out onto the landing and called for her grandmother. "Gran! GRAN! The baby's coming!"

All hell let loose. Mum was at my side in moments, Jean not far behind. All talking at once. They guided me downstairs, and Jean supported me for a few moment while Mum went for the car. I told Holly to get the hospital bag I had left ready-packed, and staggered into the lounge for my handbag. The cup of tea was still there, still full, and accusing me of neglect. Holly returned, and I suddenly realised that the children would be left alone. Jean promptly volunteered to look after them, which I accepted immediately and then saw what Jean was seeing. Holly was standing there holding my hospital bag, and it was blatantly obvious that she was wearing a nappy. There was nothing I could do now, the secret was out, it was Holly's fault and her problem, and I watched the redness spreading up her cheeks as she realised her mistake. I would just have to sort it out with Jean later.

The car's headlights illuminated the hall. I looked round the room in the usual check before departing, then I picked up the teacup and drained it. Bugger the others! I didn't know when I would get another half-decent cup of tea, and I would feel the better for it. I picked up my bag, straightened my shoulders, and said; "Let's do it!"

Mum had been wonderful, but I sent her home to relieve Jean well before midnight. This was my third, and I knew the drill, and could manage. Sally, beautiful Sally, came into the world very easily in the small hours of the morning, and we ended up in the same ward as Vickie and her new daughter. I thought how delighted Simon's mother would be to have a granddaughter after having had four sons herself and no daughter.

Vickie had had a bit of a hard time of it, and was very sleepy, but we admired each other's children, or what we could see of them, and exchanged our news. Simon came in the afternoon together with Emma and Mum to see the new members of the family, and we placed bets on which of the new arrivals would be toilet-trained first, a conversation which completely mystified the other people in the ward.

It wasn't until I had got home with Sally that I really missed Peter. Mum was still looking after me hand and foot, as well as caring for Holly and Jack, but I was going to have to shift for myself soon. I found that Holly no longer wanted to wear nappies at night, and after a few lessons in how to change Sally's Chaucerian offerings, showed absolutely no further interest in them. I managed to make up a passable story for Jean, who brushed the incident off, saying that kids were such funny things, and so the problem passed into history.

After what seemed like an age Peter was discharged from Selly Oak to the care of Doc Martin, and after meticulous examination of his several healing wounds, returned to me. As I snuggled up beside him, carefully avoiding those parts of him that were still very tender, I resolved that the Queen had had her pound of flesh out of Peter, and I would make quite sure that all the rest was mine from now on.

[alex 04]

nice update again hope to see more soon

[Pollyanna Fleshman]

Oh God! Keep on writing! This is getting great! I love it! And I bet that you could go on into the future. yOu have a way of making the story interesting.

[freswith]

I'll put another one up over the weekend. It won't be a long one, because I will be rounding off this episode. Yes, I've got an idea to take it into the future; in some ways it's easier because I don't have to tie it down to current events. (There is always a danger that there might be a real live naval officer called "Peter Simmonds" with a wife called Juliet!) I'll be very busy this evening and tomorrow with fireworks, so Sunday looks possible.

[freswith]

Return to Eden

Peter came into the room with some trepidation, holding the envelope from the Admiralty. He had passed his medical board in the previous week, and was now fit for service again. I had been very pleased, as although I certainly didn't want him to go anywhere near Afghanistan again, the alternatives I had examined had all been unacceptable. We needed a larger house for our burgeoning family and that meant a larger mortgage and that meant Peter had to have a secure job. His chances of finding any employment as a helicopter pilot or of converting to a fixed-wing commercial pilot were heavily dependant on his passing his medicals, and keeping on passing them, and I had just seen how unwise it would be to depend on that for a future career. There was virtually no other hope of employment for him in Cornwall, short of setting up a guest-house for the tourist trade, and certainly nothing that offered a similar standard of life. I had resigned myself to him carrying on flying, and frankly the flying pay would come in useful for financing the mortgage. I just didn't want to see him hurt again, and I wanted him at home.

I didn't rush him or try to read the letter over his shoulder, but occupied myself with feeding Sally, who was the most beautiful baby who had ever been, just like Holly and Jack had each been in their turns. The past few weeks had been pure bliss, with Peter at home and making a full recovery, and the two of us finding each other again, with no interference from that other woman in his life, the one who dwelt in Buck House. Now she had reappeared, and we were back to normal.

Sally made a noise that implied that she was now full, and then another noise, which implied she was making more space inside. I got up and went to the nursery for essential maintenance. She had excelled herself, and the clean-up took some time.

Then Amelia called. I hadn't heard much from her since Sally was born, and she lost no time in telling me why. The press had got hold of some of the pictures of her chatting up the wounded servicemen at Selly Oak, and the result had been the first favourable publicity she had received for a couple of years. She was back in demand as a model, and was now very busy, spending much of the week in her flat in London, and spending the weekends in Devon with Matt. She was also making time to visit Selly Oak again, this time at the behest of the staff, who had appreciated the effect her tour of the wards had had on morale and would like her to repeat the exercise. Then she gave me the big news. Matt, fed up with General Practice, had signed his papers to join the navy, and was starting his course at the end of the year. She had no idea of where he would be posted after that.

Very gently I challenged her on how it was going between them, and whether she would want to follow Matt wherever the Queen might wish to send him. She sighed, and replied that although the life in London was always exciting, she could afford to work it part-time or commute from some distance, and she found life with Matt was much more fulfilling. I knew what she meant; the papers had been full of her popstar ex-boyfriend, who had recently been found hanging in a wardrobe. I compared him with Matt. The callow youth always looked as if he had forgotten to take the hanger out of his coats, had the pallor that was kindly referred to as "heroin chic" and possessed a sharp wit and certain cruel saturnine attraction, but compared with that big gentle hunk like Matt, he was a non-starter.

In turn I passed on the news from my end. Peter was fully recovered, and Vicky's little girl - the second most beautiful in the world - was thriving. We joined forces on shopping expeditions and I was constantly being asked my advice on childcare.

By the time I'd got down Peter was poring over the computer, and the screen was showing a grey, dumpy slab-sided little ship, certainly not the prettiest thing ever to slide down a slipway. I came up beside him. "It's back to sea," he said, "Fishery protection patrol." I felt a sense of relief. Very few fishermen used rocket-propelled grenades, and fishery protection usually meant working from home ports on a timetable, a few days at sea, and then a couple in port. I would have my husband around for a reasonable proportion of the time. "Portsmouth based." he added, "We'll probably have to move there." I sat down beside him. I had come to love Cornwall, but there were certain limitations to the place, and the price of property was sky-high. This could be a good solution to our housing problem.

I looked more carefully at the little ship. "Where does the helicopter go?" I asked, "There isn't room!" I didn't like the idea of Peter trying to land on that little thing on a stormy night.

"There isn't one." He said and with his finger indicated something in his letter. I read it, and the significance it jumped out at me. Okay, Mrs Queen, you've won. I can't match that. You've got Peter body and soul for the next few years at least, and I won't argue; I just can't think of any argument that would stop Peter accepting that job. The phrase was short and simple; "H.M.S. Eden, In Command." Slab-sided, utilitarian little ship she might be, but to Peter she was obviously the most beautiful vessel ever to grace the sea.

[Pollyanna Fleshman]

i can't wait for the next installment! Go on please! NOw, you got my mouth watering for more.

[jbz2079]

Another good chapter Thanks.

[freswith]

Ok, here comes another one! (I'm taking the story on twenty years, so I might want to put something in here later.)

[freswith]

Twenty years on...

A little cloud out of the sea...

Holly and Stuart were having a bit if a rough time, and so the least I could do was to take the children while they got away for a spell and tried to mend things between them. Stuart had shown willing, and had booked a holiday in a splendid new resort off the coast of Belize, where they could indulge their mutual interest of scuba diving and perhaps also visit the old Aztec ruins. Holly had studied archaeology at university, but had never had the chance to practise. Unfortunately it was term-time, and the problem arose of What To Do With The Kids. That is where I came in. I could hardly refuse.

I waved them goodbye, picked up Rupert's bag, turned to the children. Jennifer was facing me, clutching her bag while already young Rupert was running cheerfully ahead up the stairs. I looked at my eldest grandchild, at her big eyes, and saw the slight redness around them. The troubles between her parents had not escaped her attention; at ten years old she was no longer so easy to deceive about such things, and the tension had plainly taken it's toll. I would have an uphill battle there, and on looking down I could see that it would start immediately; what self-confidence she had managed to scrape together was now dissolving as the wetness spread down her legs. Suddenly I was transported back to another occasion, another house, when a small girl had faced her awesome grandmother in a similar situation, and had done the thing she had emphatically promised her mother that she would never do. I had seconds in which to limit the damage, and a fortnight in which to see if I could engineer some improvement in the situation, so I should start right away. I leant forward, patted her on the shoulder, and said: "Never Mind! Worse things happen at sea! Let's get you sorted out, and into something more comfortable. Then you won't have to worry, and you can relax and enjoy yourself. Afterwards we'll take Rupert to feed the ducks, shall we?"

She looked up at me, and I feared an outburst of tears, but she said: "Are we going to feed Rupert to the ducks then? Wouldn't they prefer bread?" and I relaxed. As long as her sense of humour was working there was hope. This girl also had more courage than I'd expected, and with those two strengths I could work miracles.

Peter was away again, but that was something I'd got used to over the years. It would probably be the last time, as he was due to haul his flag and retire within the next year or so, and I couldn't deny him the pleasure of a last voyage particularly when it involved the working-up of the aircraft carrier Queen Elizabeth after her recent refit, and doing it in the Caribbean to boot. There was a loose agreement that I would fly out there at the end of the process and spend a few days with Peter in the warm sun. At least he would be safe and out of trouble for a couple of months.

I put an arm around Jennifer's shoulders and guided her towards the stairs. "I've put you in the yellow room, and Rupert in the blue one, so he won't be a nuisance for you." Jennifer nodded. I knew what a pain little brothers could be, and Jennifer was nearly eleven, an age when she certainly should have a room to herself for reasons of modesty. I fielded Rupert in the middle of his voyage of exploration, and patted his bottom. As I suspected it was heavy with wet, and so I guided him towards the blue room. "I'll change Rupert first. Can you manage to do yourself?" Jennifer nodded again, and went into the yellow room.

Rupert was not in the mood to be changed, even though his nappy was sodden and it must have been very uncomfortable, but I got him cleaned up and dry despite his protests and wriggles. The modern nappies were so much smaller than the old ones - when dry - but I suspected that they were much more prone to leak. I set him on his feet and he fiddled briefly with the leg elastics to make it more comfortable, but didn't try to take it off. They were his usual dress, and he accepted them. Better that than a mess. Then I turned my attention to Jennifer. By the time I got into her room she was pulling her jeans up over a fresh "protector" as they were termed these days. The dress she had arrived in was hanging neatly on the cupboard door, her wet tights rolled into a ball, and the wet protector was neatly bagged. I was impressed; she was very tidy and self-disciplined for a ten-year-old. I sat down on the other bed. It was a good time to talk.

"I didn't know you still wore nap...protectors during the day, Jenny?"

"No, I don't. Normally. But Mum said you'd probably want to keep me in nappies to protect your carpets and furniture. I just don't want to cause you any trouble, that's all. I don't want to have an accident. I think my problem has caused enough trouble as it is."

I noted the terminology. No euphemisms with this girl; she said it like it was. "Why should it cause trouble, pet?"

"Well, it just does. I hear Mum and Dad rowing over it, and Dad is always on at me to dry up. I just wish to God that I could!"

"It'll happen. We've all been through it. Always dry up at about your age. Quite suddenly, too."

"Yes, they always tell me that, and in the morning I'm always wet again. And Dad gets angry, or just sarcastic."

Ouch! I had a salvage job on here, no doubt about it. "How do you get on at school?"

"I make a point of going in between every class. Haven't had an accident for years."

"Have you managed to keep it a secret from the other girls?"

Her shoulders fell. "Not really. They all seem to know. And they make my life hell!"

"Don't you have any friends to help you?"

"Not really, only Kim, and they are usually horrible to her as well, because her English isn't very good and she's small. And clever. And Chinese. I've never been on a sleepover, nor had any friends to stay. It would just be too embarrassing."

Better ring the Lutine Bell and call in the salvage experts. This was heading for disaster. "I thought it was a very good school. It's certainly expensive. I thought the girls would be nice."

"They're still girls."

"Does Kim know about your problem?"

"Yes, she's alright about it."

"That's good. At least you have a friend you can confide in. Do you normally change yourself?"

"I try to. Keep it all to myself. Mum usually nappies me at night - she says we get fewer leaks that way."

"That's good. I want you to feel that you are in charge of it. You're growing up quickly now, and I think I should recognise that. This is your room, and that's your bathroom. It was your mother's before she left home. I want you to feel at home here."

"Thanks Gran. I'll try not to be any bother."

"You're no bother at all, child, it's always nice to see you, and I'm going to enjoy your company. It can be very lonely here when Granpa's away." The words brought a wave of nostalgia. My own Gran and Granpa were long gone now, but I still missed them. I missed their wisdom, the wisdom of age that grew like a stalactite, drip by drip, molecule by molecule.

It was a series of strokes that had finally got Granpa. Slowly they hewed into the hardened oak of which he was made, and slowly and with great dignity, he toppled. We stood helpless beside him, as cruel Fate swung the axe with heartless deliberation. There was nothing we could do. In the dust of his falling, Gran stood bereft and inconsolable. She didn't linger for long without him, but gently faded away to rejoin her one and only love.

Now I was the Gran, and Peter was Granpa; the old sea-dog who always seemed to be away somewhere. And another little girl stood dumped on her granny while parents had a sort-out. I just hoped it would be as successful as my own parents' reconciliation had been, but they had done it so quietly that I had never had an inkling about it until years and years afterwards. They used to tell children nothing, now they seem to tell them too much, and plainly I had a very worried and depressed little girl on my hands, and it was all down to me now.

Stuart had swept Holly away in a high style. He was a banker, a something-in-the-City, and one of Granpa's last remarks had been that he thought Stuart was a Complete and Total Banker. Stuart simply didn't have the ethos of our family, the dedication to duty and service, the naval traditions and the rigorous codes of personal behaviour. He made a lot of money, that was true, but he was a child of the modern age, and there was a basic shallowness and selfishness about him that did not enthuse Granpa, and when Stuart tried to impress us by boasting about the size of his annual bonuses, it had gone down like a lead balloon. Percy had fumed, and repeated Granpa's judgement, so now the High Court had also pronounced on Stuart. The one consolation was that if Stuart decided to divest himself of my lovely daughter, Percy would see to it that she had the very best legal representation to ensure that Stuart would be skinned alive in the divorce court. I almost felt sorry for him. Better he tame his roving eye, and learn to appreciate the qualities of the mother of his children.

Rupert came trotting in, and I remembered my promise about the ducks. Between us, Jennifer and I got his trousers on him and then headed for the door. I had kept a bag of breadcrumbs handy, with the remains of some stale rock cakes. I had come to enjoy doing a little baking, although I knew I would never match Gran's expertise, but I seldom had sufficient call for my wares, and they ended up going stale. The presence of Jennifer and Rupert would doubtless rectify any shortfall in future demand, and so I had a baking session planned. As I emerged from the kitchen, I saw that Jennifer was fitting a rather reluctant Rupert with a set of reins.

"Is that really necessary, Jenny?"

"'Fraid so, Gran. He'll be in the water without them, as sure as fate." I took her word for it, and we set off. It wasn't far. I had quite come to enjoy Hampshire, where we had moved when Peter had been posted to the Ministry, but I still yearned after Cornwall, the keening gulls as opposed to the quacking ducks, and I looked forward to our holidays down there in Dad's old cottage near Helston. Still, Hampshire was far enough from the London to be quiet and affordable, and near enough to Portsmouth for Peter's job.

Jennifer had been right about Rupert's harness; he strained at it in the way that Asbo used to pull at his lead, and would have been straight in the river without a firm hand on the reins. The ducks made short work of the breadcrumbs, and even appeared to enjoy my stale rock cakes, although they seemed to be noticeably lower in the water when the bag was finally emptied. We didn't linger, although the autumn day was unusually warm I didn't want to test Jennifer's bladder capacity too much; I still had memories of what could happen. As we strolled homewards, Jennifer asked me about Belize, since her parents were on their way there. I started to answer her, but then said, "Let's make a project of it. We'll research the place properly after tea. Then we'll both know all about it!" Jennifer agreed. Peter would have approved; he always believed in good staff work, and it had helped his career immensely. It was time to show Jennifer how it was done.

After tea we managed to settle a freshly-changed Rupert with a colouring book, and went on the web to research Belize. The information was very easily found, and we noted the vital points. Sometime a British colony, the only one in Central America, the population were once English pirates, and the Spaniards let them live there as long as they gave up piracy. Main business had been timber, now it was agriculture. Developing tourist industry, but a huge oilfield had recently been discovered offshore, and a large deposit of tantalum ore in the hills. Hence Holly's desire to see the place before it was ruined. Ancient Mayan ruins; those would please Holly, too. Neighbouring Guatemala had a long-running border dispute, not pursued for many years. British garrison recently reduced following defence cuts.

After Jennifer went to play with Rupert, I looked briefly at Guatemala. It had been in the news a lot recently, with a new loudmouthed populist leader called Ronyoso making a lot of trouble. Oh well, a little man, and far away. Time to get Rupert to bed.

I tucked Rupert in, and turned my attention to Jennifer. At her age she needed recognition of her seniority, and so I didn't drive her straight to bed. We stayed and chatted for quite a while; a rare privilege since her mother had always been around in previous times, and I enjoyed getting to know my granddaughter as an individual, especially now she was a bit older and could frame her opinions coherently. We found we agreed on so many things, and I was pleased to see that Holly had passed on so many of the family traditions. I told her some little bits of family history and some of the cleaner anecdotes, and Jennifer lapped them up. It was with reluctance that I ushered her upstairs to bath and bed; she had to go to school tomorrow, and that particular duty had to be served.

Jennifer came out of the bathroom clean and scrubbed, with her hair damp on her shoulders. We faced each other again. This was the difficult moment. The bag of nappies that she had brought with her was open, and I removed one. She hesitated. I had nappied her as a baby, but that had been some years ago, and I was reluctant to presume upon her, but The Problem was still there, and had to be handled.

"Can you do this yourself?" I asked.

She hesitated. "I've done it," she said, "from time to time, but Mum usually does it to me. To prevent leaks, she says."

I thought of the under-confident basket-case I had seen when she arrived this afternoon. I was at a crossroads; if I insisted on doing it myself, I would impose upon the child, and continue the suppression that had dogged her all through her life. If I let her do it herself, there was the risk of a leak, perhaps a large one. I weighed the alternatives, and decided that the risk of a leak was a lot less than the cost to Jennifer's dignity that would result from being nappied like a baby.

"I'd like to leave all this to you. Can you manage?"

Her reaction told me that I'd done the right thing. I watched as she applied the ointment, and then laid down on the spread nappy, and with some awkwardness lifted the front up between her legs and taped it closed. I refrained from interfering until the very end, when I readjusted the tapes to make it a bit more symmetrical. It wasn't perfect, but it would do. I tucked her in, and kissed her goodnight.

As I was going down the stairs I reflected on how content I felt having children in the house again, having a purpose again so long after my own children had grown up. I thought of Gran, and the pleasure she had taken in looking after us, and I felt at one with her after all these years.

[freswith]

The Orphan

Fortunately Jennifer's school was even closer to me than it was to Holly and Stuart's house, so it was no trouble taking her to and fro. It was only three days to the half-term holiday, and then she would be at home for a week. I waited for her at the gate with all the mums, one grey head amongst all the younger women. Jennifer came out a bit after the rest, accompanied by a small dark girl.

"Hi Gran! This is my friend Kim." She said, and I greeted Kim. Jennifer's description of her was accurate, but she had not said how pretty Kim was, with stronger features than usual amongst Chinese, and paler complexion. I looked around. There was no obvious parent there to meet her, so I asked her if she was being collected.

She replied, shaking her head. "Grandfather very busy man, I stay here, in boarding house."

"No Mummy and Daddy?"

Her face clouded. "Just Grandfather, and me." Her voice echoed with emptiness, and I felt so sorry for her. She embraced Jennifer for a moment, then turned and walked off towards the school's boarding house, a lonely little figure against the turning trees.

Jennifer scrambled into the car, heaving her knapsack of books onto the back seat. As we drove away I remarked on how lonely poor Kim seemed to be. Jennifer told me that her mother had been English, and had been killed in an airliner crash along with Kim's father a couple of years before. Her grandfather, a widower, was one of the richest men in China, although he based himself mainly in London while making many trips home. She normally spent her holidays with him when he was in London, and had been back to China many times herself.

Once back home I made tea for the children and checked the emails. Peter said that the work-up was going very well, and they would be in the Caribbean for another week or two, and perhaps I could join him in Belize when it was finished. I checked the dates, and saw that it would be after Stuart and Holly were due back, and after Jennifer's half term, and I replied that it would be ideal. I also told him that Holly and Stuart would be in Belize for the next two weeks. Rupert was complaining about being confined to his high chair, and so I set him on his feet, and asked Jennifer to keep an eye on him while I washed up. Then it was time for his bath and bed, and for Jennifer to do her homework. I was slipping back into the "mother" role with some ease, and rather enjoying it. After I'd got Rupert bathed and ready for bed, the phone rang. It was Holly telling me that they'd arrived safely and all was going very well. They were going up tomorrow to see the Mayan ruins at Cahal Pech and Xunantunich near the border, and she had managed to prise Stuart away from his scuba diving for that day. I told her how pleased I was that they were getting on well, and passed the phone to Jennifer.

As I was leaving the room, I heard Jennifer telling her mother that she had actually been dry that morning. I'm sorry to say that I hadn't noticed as I'd just been too busy with Rupert, but a glance into Jennifer's room showed a disposable nappy hanging over the radiator. I decided not to pursue the matter further, but to leave it to Jennifer as a matter of policy; the more responsibility she could take for herself the better. I tucked Rupert into bed, and then helped Jennifer with her homework. Eventually I let her get herself to bed, congratulated her on being dry that morning, and wished her a dry night to come. It was obvious that she had re-used her nappy from last night, and I took the chance to count the remaining nappies in the bag. There were only half a dozen, and it was obvious that I would have to get some more at some time soon; there was nothing worse than running out of an evening, and having a panic.

The following morning I dropped Jennifer off at the school gates, and saw her run across the playground to greet Kim, then I went down to the shops to get some more nappies in Jennifer's size. It was only on my way home that I turned on the radio and the sky fell in on me.

"....shooting reported in Belmopan and Belize City. British troops are believed to be holding the airport adjacent to their barracks, but telephone and data links have been cut. Presidente Ronyoso has declared that he is exercising Guatemala's historic claims to the entire territory of Belize on order to eliminate piracy and colonialism from the region. The Foreign Office has condemned the invasion and summoned the Guatemalan ambassador to demand the immediate removal of Guatemalan troops from the entire territory of Belize....Now for the classified snooker results..."

I drove home as rapidly as I dare, dumped Rupert unceremoniously on the hall floor and grabbed the telephone. I could normally get Peter "at work" although I respected his wishes and didn't do so often. This time I couldn't. The number came back "not available". I began to panic a little, then Rupert tugged at my skirt, and I began to think rapidly and carefully. It wasn't unusual that the communications would be shut down with a carrier, and it didn't necessarily mean that it had sunk. It would be done if the ship was going into action, and they wanted to go silent and cut all transmissions. I thought of the computer, and switched it on. The tug at my skirt was becoming more and more urgent, and I looked down to see a very worried small boy in a very droopy nappy. I hesitated for a second, and then whisked him into the downstairs loo. There was a potty there, and I whipped his nappy down and plonked him on it. The chime from the computer said that I had email, so I left him to his business, and rushed back to see what the message was. It was from Peter, short and to the point. Guatemala had invaded Belize, and he was going there to sort things out. He would be shutting down the transmitters in a few moments, and didn't know when he could get back on air; it might be several days, and the phone wouldn't work in the meantime, although a few emails might be allowed in and out from time to time. If there was something very urgent, I should talk to Simon. He knew about Stuart and Holly. He sent his love.

Simon! Brilliant! Simon was now the Naval Attache at the British Embassy in Washington. He would know everything, and would probably be in close contact with Peter. A noise from the toilet brought me back to earth. I went to clean Rupert up and get him changed. He still looked very worried. He couldn't have failed to notice my agitation, and was much too young to understand what it was all about. He probably thought he had done something awful, so I made a particular point of fussing and cuddling him to put his mind at rest.

I looked at the clock. Ten o'clock here, that meant it was still 5am in Washington. Too early to call Simon, although I suspected that he was probably up and working very hard. I sat. I fiddled. I did some chores. I made a cup of coffee, and some milk for Rupert. Eleven o'clock. I turned the radio on to get the news. The Guatemalan troops had come over the border and reached the outskirts of Belmopan before they were challenged. A small force of British troops had resisted, and then withdrawn to avoid being surrounded. There had been a seaborne invasion of Belize City, and the British troops were now confined to the area of garrison and the airport, and holding on. Jet aircraft had bombed them. The rest was speculation, journalists interviewing other journalists, the usual filler. One "expert" raised an unpleasant fact; that the new President of the US, Raoul Sanchez, the first Hispanic to hold the office, was descended from Guatemalan grandparents. There was no guessing where his sympathies would lie. Another speculated on where the jet aircraft had come from; Guatemala was not known to possess any. Then they went on to talk about some soap opera, and I turned the radio off again.

I sat. I fiddled. I did some chores. Then the phone rang. Sally!

"Mum, I've just heard! What's happening?"

"I wish I knew, Sally. You know that Holly and Stuart are out there?"

"And Dad. And they're all right in the middle of it! I'll come down to you."

"What about college?"

"No lectures till Tuesday. I'm up to speed on essays. I just can't concentrate at the moment. I'd rather be there where the news will come. I feel so isolated here."

"Come on then. I'll be very pleased to see you."

"I'll be at the station about half-four. Can you pick me up?"

"I might be late. Picking Jenny up from school first."

"I'll wait."

I sat. I fiddled. Rupert came in, pushing his little car. I fetched a story book and we sat on the settee and we read it very slowly and carefully from end to end. After that I made some lunch for both of us, then I changed Rupert and put him down for a nap. Anything to fill the time. The phone rang again.

"Oh Vickie, I'm so glad it's you! Have you heard the news?"

"Simon's been at the Embassy since midnight. There's a huge fuss on, and he's desperate. I don't know when I'll see him back here. Apparently there's something about a Chinese aircraft carrier that's involved in all this. Peter's taking the Queen Elizabeth down there as fast as he can, and he's loaded for bear."

"Did you know that Holly and Stuart are in Belize?"

"What the hell are they doing there?"

"Holiday. Had a row. Big row. Trying to patch things up."

"They should be safe if they're on the islands. It's all happening on the mainland. There's a still lot of shooting going on."

"They were on the islands, but Holly said something about going inland to look at Mayan or Aztec remains or something. I haven't heard from them since."

"Oh God! Trust Stuart to get in over his head!"

"Probably Holly this time. She's the one for ruins."

"I'll tell Simon. I doubt if he'll be able to do anything, but he'll keep an ear open, and might be able to make enquiries."

By the time I'd spoken to Mum and Dad, and phoned Amelia and Jack, it was time to go and fetch Jennifer from school. She came out with Kim, and the little Chinese girl looked utterly despondent.

I bent down to her. "What's the matter, Kim?"

"Nothing. So Sorry." She replied, her face downcast.

"It's her granddad." said Jennifer, "She was supposed to be going home for half term, but he's had to go away on business. She's got to stay in the boarding house for the whole week."

"That sounds terribly boring. What'll you do with yourself?" Kim didn't reply and didn't look up, but simply shrugged. I felt so sorry for this little girl, standing in the cold dusk and dry leaves. I made a decision and took the plunge. "Would you like to come and stay with Jennifer and me for half-term?"

Kim looked up sharply, her eyes bright. "Could I?... Really?"

"If your grandfather will let you, of course. It'll be up to him."

Kim reached frantically into her school bag, and withdrew a mobile phone. "Can I ask him now?"

"Of course." I was quite amused to see this level of sophistication. Kim called the number. It was answered promptly, and Kim started to chatter away in what I assume was Cantonese. I caught the odd word here and there, "half term", "Jenny" and then "Lady Simmonds"; which was anticipating things a bit, although a knighthood normally went with Peter's rank at some point. Kim looked up and handed the phone to me. I was a little unsure of what to expect, but Kim's grandfather spoke perfect English. He thanked me with great politeness for my offer, and was delighted to give his permission, and trusted that Kim would not be a burden to me. We settled the minor details, and I watched Kim and Jennifer dancing with delight and cheering. Having Kim to stay would provide a welcome distraction at a time when Jennifer might have a lot to worry about.

I gave the phone back to Kim, arranged to pick her up after school next day, and watched her skip away through the dry leaves to her boarding house. Then Jennifer and I got into the car and I started to tell her about the problem in Belize, but she said it had been the main topic of discussion during break. She asked if I'd heard from Stuart and Holly, and I had to reply that I had not. She went a bit quieter at that, and I pointed out that the telephones in Belize were very likely turned off. She nodded, but was plainly rather worried. I squeezed her hand, and told her that I was sure that her parents wouldn't get involved in any fighting. I just hoped to God it was true.

Sally was waiting for us outside the station, and climbed quickly to escape the cold wind. I was grateful to see her, and to have some grown-up, (well, almost grown up) company. She had brought the usual bag of washing with her, and doubtless a student's appetite as well. We chatted about family news as I drove home, and Sally again asked about her sister, but there was nothing new to tell. She told me that Jack had called her from Vancouver, and his course was going well. I was pleased to hear that; my son was not the most communicative of people.

The early evening news was packed with items on the situation in Belize. Every aspect was covered, mostly by journalists interviewing other journalists, and the Foreign Minister's brash statement to the House of Commons was repeated, but the fog of war was plainly obscuring the reality of the situation. About a thousand British troops were holding out around the airport, under almost continuous attack. The Task Force, which meant Peter, was already in the area. There were reports of aircraft being shot down in flames, and pictures from Guatemalan television showing their victorious elite forces, the Kaibiles, advancing down the avenues of the capital, Belmopan. The pictures showed clouds of smoke over the airport with the crackle of gunfire in the background. Then a statement was read out by the Official British Spokesman, slowly and carefully, stating that the aircraft carrier Queen Elizabeth, and the helicopter assault ship Prince of Wales were both on their way together with other vessels to relieve the garrison and liberate our Commonwealth colleagues.

President Ronyoso had made another lengthy speech, and declared that the territory of Belize was now a province of Guatemala, and warned all "imperialists" to withdraw of face terrible consequences. A party of journalists had succeeded in getting across the Mexican border and were now interviewing each other in a luxury hotel almost within sound of the gunfire. There were more reports of Guatemalan jets bombing the airport, which was still in British hands.

I decided to ring Vickie and see if she had heard anything from Simon.

Simon answered the phone himself. He couldn't tell me much about what was going on in Belize, but said that they were getting a lot of information from the Pentagon. Apparently the jets were Chinese; their pilots had been heard talking in Chinese, and it seems unlikely that the Guatemalans have learned to fly fast jets and speak fluent Chinese at the same time. China's only aircraft carrier had been on a goodwill visit to various countries in South America, and was now off the Pacific coast of Guatemala. What had been expected to be a sales demonstration of the new Chinese fighters had turned into the real thing.

Apparently China's reserves of tantalum, on which their electronics industry was utterly dependent, were rapidly being exhausted and a number of interests had cornered the market, were driving the price through the roof, and were gleefully denying supplies to the Chinese. China was desperate, and had cooked up a deal with Guatemala to give very close assistance to Guatemala in exchange for a guaranteed supply of Belizian tantalum. Everybody was putting pressure on President Sanchez; but since winning a landslide victory Sanchez had done very little, and was often portrayed as slumbering under a sombrero against the White House wall. El Sombrero, as he was now nicknamed, was beginning to realise that a Chinese aircraft carrier engaged in a war in Central America was very bad news indeed, and needed some forceful response, but the administration was still working out how to respond without starting a full-scale war.

From the sublime to the ridiculous, I then went to bathe Rupert and put him to bed. China or no, Rupert couldn't wait. Fortunately Sally was keeping her niece occupied, and I was able to do so without interruption. After supper it was time to get Jennifer to bed. I went up to wish her goodnight, but found that she as still up, and a second glance took in her last-night's nappy, which was still hanging over the radiator. She asked me very politely if she could stay up to watch the late evening news in the hope there might be something about her parents. It was a reasonable request, and I could see how worried she was, so I told her that she could do so provided the was in all respects ready for bed, and I pulled the nappy off the radiator and spread it on the bed. She was a little reluctant to do it for herself, and I was rather tired, so I pulled her pyjama trousers down, sat her on the nappy, added a dollop of ointment and taped her nappy up exactly as I did with Rupert. Then we retired to the lounge to watch the news.

The news was extended, because much had been happening. Fighters from the Queen Elizabeth had intercepted the "Guatemalan" aircraft - either the BBC didn't know, or was keeping quiet about the carrier - and at least four Guatemalan aircraft had been shot down. Now the Royal Navy was bombing the Guatemalan elite troops around the airport. Peter had plainly taken the necessary action. Jennifer, much agitated, asked if her mum and dad would have been anywhere near there. I looked at her as I tried to reassure her, but I saw how she was trembling and fidgeting. I suggested that it was better that she be in bed, but that produced a frantic response. I tried to think what old Gran would have done in that situation, and then I remembered. I went and fetched a large blanket and spread it on the sofa beside Jennifer, then got her to sit in the middle of it before I wrapped the sides tightly around her, swaddling her tightly as I murmured softly to her. Then I fetched a sleeping draught and dosed her up. Finally I took one of the bottles, which I had left prepared for Rupert, and holding her firmly, started to feed her like a baby. It worked, her eyelids began to droop, and she fell asleep in my arms. I winked at Sally, and hoped that she had now learnt that trick.

We sat up until midnight, thirsty for news, but none was forthcoming. Politicians postured, journalists speculated, newsreaders repeated old news, and we went to bed. Sally and I managed to half-wake the slumbering Jennifer, and steered her gently upstairs to her room. Between us we changed her - it was very necessary - and then tucked her into bed, where she was instantly asleep. Tomorrow would be another day.

[jbz2079]

Thank you, I never seen that comming- Great writing.

[freswith]

Kim's Game.

I awoke as the greyness of the autumn morning finally penetrated the curtains. One of the few benefits of age was that I needed less sleep. I turned the radio on just in time to catch the early news. It was terrible. During the night a British frigate had entered the channel between the resort islands and the coast, and intercepted a convoy of Guatemalan troopships that were trying to take reinforcements to the invading force in Belize City. The carnage had been awesome, like a fox slaughtering chickens. All four troopships had been sunk, and their human cargo thrown into the shark-infested waters. Reaction was coming in from all over the world, nearly all hostile to Britain. Not a word was said about what those soldiers were doing there, or the mayhem they were intending to wreak once ashore. Nobody remarked about the beleaguered Belizian troops and the British garrison holding out desperately at the airport. Then right at the end of the bulletin it mentioned that the RAF had made a supplies drop to the garrison, and had lost a Hercules to groundfire in the process. Its crew was now "missing". Peter was right in the thick of it, and heaven only knew where Jennifer's parents were.

I went to look after my charges. Rupert was already awake, and got him up and topped and tailed him. Then I looked in on Jennifer, who was still sound asleep. I didn't need to check on Sally, since she kept student's hours and probably wouldn't wake for some time yet. I went downstairs with Rupert, put the kettle on and laid the breakfast table. Then I went to wake Jennifer, as war or no war, school was a priority. I managed to get her half-awake with the application of a cup of tea, but she sat on the edge of the bed and grimaced, running her hands down between her legs.

"Oh Dear. Wet night?"

"Sorry Gran, I couldn't help it. I've done it again. I'd hoped to stay dry, especially as Kim is coming to stay. I did try very hard!"

"Never mind, love, it's what your nappy's there for, isn't it. It was probably the sleeping draught and the milk I gave you. Remember that?" She nodded. Now stand up, child." I undid her nappy and removed it as quickly as I could. I heard the sharp intake of breath as the cool air hit her wet bottom; she was certainly fully awake now, and shifting her weight from leg to leg in her discomfort. "Let's not mention it again. Now get yourself cleaned up, and come down for breakfast. Last day, then it's half-term. Cheer up!"

"I don't want to wear a nappy while Kim is here. Not in front of her. Is there any chance....?"

"No, dear, afraid not. After all, if then you wet the bed, there'd be an enormous scene, wouldn't there? And she could hardly avoid noticing that. As it is, we'll try everything we can to be discreet, but I'm afraid you're still in nappies at night, and that's it."

She shrugged miserably, and I left the room so she could clean herself up in private.

After dropping Jennifer off at school, I called Claire. Uncle Percy was just about to retire from the bench, and there was going to be a big party at Pembroke in the next week, and I wanted to ask Claire if I could bring an extra child. I explained Kim's circumstances and she was delighted to extend the invitation to cover her. We discussed the situation, and Claire pumped me for all the information I had. I could tell her very little, except that I was sure that Peter wouldn't refrain from any measure necessary to fulfil his orders, no matter how difficult. I told her how pleased I had been with Jennifer's knowledge of our family history, and hoped that a visit to Pembroke would educate her further. Claire said she would sort out some of the old pictures, and tell Percy to find some of the memorabilia that had been stored since old Granpa's time. Hal had said he would try to come up from Portsmouth, if the admiral could spare his flag lieutenant for a day in these desperate times, and the whole clan would gather with the exception of Vickie and Simon who were stuck in Washington.

Sally helped to look after Rupert, and I was happy to let her learn some child-caring skills, but it left me at an even looser end than yesterday.

I turned on the television to watch the lunchtime news. Following the loss of the troopships there had been riots in Guatemala and the British Embassy had been sacked and burned. Well, that was to be expected. The British Pirate Admiral had been burned in effigy. Well, that would amuse Peter; the effigy didn't even resemble him, he was fair-haired and the effigy was dark. President Ronyoso was visiting Belmopan, and would be expected to make a speech in a few hours time. Well, there wasn't much he could say. The British Garrison was still holding out, but was taking casualties. The US President had remained silent. Well, that was entirely new, he never done that in his life before. UN Security Council was in session. In the Commons, one part of the Opposition was demanding withdrawal, the other part was demanding more action, while the government was remaining calm and saying that we should wait for the diplomatic process to work. Well, they're a bit too late for that; the shooting has well and truly started. No news about British tourists such as Holly and Stuart, but there was a number to ring. I rang it. After a long, long wait I got through. They noted my concerns, but they didn't know anything. They had managed top contact some of the island resorts, but the mainland was still cut off. Then in a moment of inspiration I tried Holly's mobile number: number not available. I tried Peter's number: number not available. All told I knew less at the end of the process than I knew at the start, but I noted that there had been no mention at all of any Chinese aircraft carrier. I realised that the time difference meant that it was barely daybreak in that time zone, and I joined Sally and Rupert for lunch.

Sally was obviously enjoying looking after her nephew, and he was plainly enjoying the attention, and I was glad to see that she had used his harness to keep him from scrambling out of his high chair. She was always a sensible girl, but being the youngest child she had never had any practical experience of childcare at first hand, and I was more than content that she would have a chance to practise. Changing a few dirty nappies might well make her revise her opinions, but that would come in its own good time; Rupert was fairly well trained in that respect, anyway. We discussed the news. Sally was studying psychology at college, but hadn't yet got to the part of the course that covered crazed dictators, let alone our own crazed politicians.

I went to pick up Jennifer and Kim from school. I arrived as the girls streamed out of the gate, but I couldn't find Jennifer. I stopped a hurrying teacher to enquire after her, and while we were talking there was the sound of raised voices from around the corner. Then a shout of "Filthy gweilo bitch!" was followed by a solid meaty impact. Moments later a large ruddy girl came round the corner, walking crabwise and looking behind her nervously, her uniform stained with mud and studded with dead leaves. Following her round the corner came Kim, in a high dudgeon, with Jennifer close behind. The teacher called sharply to Kim, told her to behave herself and in particular berated her for using the word "gweilo" as it was plainly racist. Kim apologised sweetly, and said that the girl, Susan, had been abusing her friend Jennifer. The girl was nowhere to be seen, having taken advantage of the teacher's intervention to make her escape.

I loaded the pair of them into the car, and collected Kim's bag from the boarding house. Jennifer asked after her parents, but I couldn't give her any news. Kim said that no news was good news, and she was sure they'd be all right. They told me that the school had been a-buzz with talk about the war, and Jennifer had been the centre of attention, which Susan seemed to resent. She had made a cutting remark about Jennifer needing a nappy change and Kim had had to get in between them. I said I'd seen the result, and Jennifer said Kim had flipped Susan onto the ground very easily. Kim obviously had a trick or two up her sleeve.

When we got home Kim was delighted to meet Rupert, and made a big fuss of him; Rupert was delighted at all the attention he was receiving and crowed with delight. Oh, you lucky little man to have so many pretty girls looking after you! Kim explained later that, being an only child, she had never had a baby to care for. If Rupert resented being described as a baby, he certainly didn't show it.

After tea Kim helped Sally to put Rupert to bed. It appeared that I was to have two nannies to do my work, which was useful when Simon rang. He hadn't yet heard anything about Holly and Stuart, but the only action in that area had been the bombing of a bridge over the Macal River to try and cut the supply line to the Guatemalan forces in Belmopan. There was no report of civilian casualties. Peter was somewhere well off-shore, awaiting the arrival of the assault carrier Prince of Wales with its marines; once they had arrived he could get on with the job of clearing out the invaders. Simon said that the working-up of the Queen Elizabeth had been shifted to the Caribbean in order to make a show of force around Belize, as the invasion was not unexpected. "Just for once we were prepared, but they must have found out about it and brought the whole thing forward. They were hoping for a fait accompli, but the garrison was on its toes and managed to hold out. They weren't expecting that, and it's given us a chance to get back at them. It sounds as if you've got a house full of children there!" Jennifer and Kim were coming down the stairs chatting cheerfully, and he must have heard it. We made some small talk about them, and I told him about Kim and her wealthy grandfather, and the half-term holiday. Simon asked who the grandfather was.

"He's called Lo Kung-mien, "I said, "Some sort of merchant or businessman."

"Lo Kung-mien? Yes, I've heard of him... Interesting! Does she talk to him much?"

"Oh yes, two or three times a day, on her mobile." There was a brief, but pronounced, silence.

"That could be useful. I'll talk to you tomorrow."

While Kim was in the bathroom I took the opportunity to get Jennifer into her nappy and pyjamas, so she was sitting in her bed when Kim came out, and nothing was showing. Kim stood by her own bed, smiled at me, and said "Please, can I have one on too?"

I was a bit nonplussed, and replied "A what?"

"A nappy. Like Jenny has."

"Why on earth would you want that? You don't need them, do you?"

"No, but Jenny has to have one, and will lose face if she has to wear one and I don't. have to. She's my best friend, and I don't want her to lose face, and best way to do that is if I wear one too, then we are both equal. Please?"

"I really don't think...."

"Oh come on Mum," came a voice from behind me, and Sally walked in, "Sounds perfectly reasonable to me. Nice of you, Kim, to think of that." She took a nappy from the bag, which I'd stupidly left out in plain sight, and opened it out on Kim's bed. "Come on then, Kim, let's do you just the same way we did Rupert."

Kim grinned and undid her dressing gown. Sally took it off her shoulders and without further ado sat her down in the middle of the nappy. "Can you pass the ointment, please Mum? We don't want Kim to get a rash, now do we?" and she winked at me. I overcame my amazement, and passed the ointment pot over to her. Jennifer was staring open-mouthed at the scene, as surprised as I was. "Now be good and don't wriggle like Rupert did." Sally took a generous dollop of ointment and began to spread it over Kim, who after a token wriggle, relaxed and appeared to enjoy it. Sally spread Kim's legs, brought the front of the nappy up between them, adjusted it slightly, brought the sides round and fastened the tapes. She was nappied as neatly as any baby ever was, then Sally helped Kim into her pyjamas. Kim was grinning again, and briefly reached in to her pants to adjust her leg elastic as Sally turned down the bedclothes and nudged her in, giving her a pat on the seat as she did so. Then she tapped Kim on the nose and said "Now don't you dare take your nappy off for anything, Baby, just try your best to keep it dry, and above all stay clean!" Kim laughed, raised a clenched fist, and declared "Solidarity with the Wetting Classes." Jennifer raised a clenched fist and replied "Yeah!"

It took them an hour or more to stop whispering to each other and to fall asleep. It didn't matter, there was no school tomorrow and they could sleep in. I spent the evening watching television with Sally, trying to extract the few grains of fact from a wealth of speculation and comment. I asked Sally what she thought of Kim.

"Clever girl. Very clever. Keeps a lot of it under a blanket, too. I noticed that her pidgin-English accent dropped every now and then, and she spoke perfect English.. She puts the pidgin on, you know. Probably makes people listen more carefully to her. Manipulative. She's a very lonely child, obviously, and very insecure. That business with the nappy this evening: just too neat. She might have reverted to bedwetting for a time after her parents were killed. Her Grandad might even have put her back into nappies as well. She might still wet the bed from time to time - that would explain why she palled up with Jennifer. Common experiences, shared problems. She might even be afraid that she'll wet while she's here. All that said, she's a lovely kid, full of life and enthusiasm."

"If she wets, we'll just ignore it. Not just to save her precious face, but her self confidence is very thin, I suspect. It is with most children, after all." I said, and Sally nodded. She was only a year and a bit into her psychology course, but it was obvious she was very good at it.

Much later that night, as I was going to bed, Simon rang again. He asked if the children were all in bed, and then asked me if I knew Lo Kung-Mien's mobile number, the one Kim used, and I gave it to him. He then spoke to me very carefully, and said he would ring me tomorrow at exactly the same time he had phoned this evening. When he did so, he wanted Kim to hear what was said, so I was to put the phone speaker on. I was taken a bit aback and asked why? All Simon said was "Just do it Juliet, please, for Peter's sake. I'll tell you why later. Just don't tell the children about this. Don't tell anyone."

I agreed. I knew Simon very well, and felt I could trust him. And for Peter's sake I'd do anything.

[freswith]

Simon's Ploy

I overslept the following morning. I don't know how I managed it, but I did. Eventually Sally came in with a cup of tea and woke me. She had already topped and tailed Rupert and got him dressed, with Kim's help. She set the tea down on my bedside table, and opened the curtains. I was beginning to regret sending her to university; she was being quite invaluable back at home. "What's the news?" I asked.

"Here, or from Belize?"

"Belize. He hasn't sunk, I hope!"

"Not Dad. He's too canny. I don't think Davy Jones would have him, anyway. Nothing new there, they're still all shooting at each other and the politicians are prattling on."

"What's the news from here, then?"

"Jennifer's actually had a dry night in the middle of all this!"

"That's jolly good. She's improving. I thought she would be desperately worried about Holly and Stuart. If anything would make her wet, that would."

"...but I had to top and tail Kim. I got it right there. I think that was a bit more than just solidarity; she's a bit of a bedwetter, too"

"Oh dear. You were right. How's she taken it?"

"Not very happy, but Jenny's being very sweet with her."

"We'd better not mention it again. Once is happenstance. She's in a strange house amongst strange people."

"Worse things happen at sea."

"Oh God, don't say that! Think of your father!"

"Sorry!"

As I was heading downstairs I noticed Kim standing half-hidden behind the banister.

"Are you all right, Kim? You look so worried."

"Very Sorry Mrs Simmonds. I had accident last night. Very wet. I'm Very Very Sorry."

"But you had a nappy on? You kept it on didn't you?" She nodded vigorously.

"Nothing leaked out?" She shook her head. "That's all right then. Why are you so worried?"

"When I'm with Grandfather and I wet the bed, the nurse beats me. On the bottom. A lot. You're not going to beat me, are you?"

"Perish the thought! I'd never do that. How often do you wet?"

"Sometimes. Quite often when with Grandfather and the nurse is there. I'm very frightened of her."

"That's dreadful! Really dreadful!" I thought for a moment. "Do you mind wearing a nappy?"

"Less nasty than wetting the bed. I feel much safer with a nappy on. Like the old days when Mummy was alive. She never beat me. Thank you for letting me wear one. I did try not to wet it."

"That's what they're for, Kim. If you like, you can wear one every night like Jenny does. Jenny's never been beaten for wetting. Nobody outside need ever know, and everybody in the family knows that Jenny wears nappies. They won't worry if you do too."

"Thank you!"

"Now come along and have some breakfast." I put an arm round her shoulder and guided her into the breakfast room.

The weather was vile for October, a real day for the ducks. No taking the children there to feed them and occupy an hour or two. Thinking of ducks made me think of cakes, and thinking of cakes, and hungry children made me think of ways to entertain them. Time to demonstrate Granny's baking skills, and try to teach them how it's done. Make something to take up to the party at Pembroke. Something for Sally to take home to college as well. I got busy, and despite the girls enthusiastic assistance, my efforts were crowned with success. I introduced Kim to the delights of cleaning the cake mixture bowl out, and Jennifer to the art of icing the cake. She was then allowed to clean the icing bowl out. Sally appointed herself Chief Taster of Rock Cakes, and gave them her unreserved approval, only commenting that they lacked their normal armour-piercing qualities. I considered using the rolling pin on her, but instead sent her off to top and tail Rupert again. He was covered with flour on top and well overdue for maintenance at the bottom.

The lunchtime news contained a report about another clash of fighters over the jungles of Belize. The navy was claiming three "Guatemalan" fighters destroyed for no loss. Peter must have been very pleased with that result. Then they showed footage of the dead bodies of Guatemalan troops being washed up on the beaches of the resort islands, and interviews with the few pathetic survivors. They were all aged about seventeen, conscripts, and utterly shattered, having spent a long night in the sea as their comrades were picked off one by one by the sharks. Jennifer and Kim were horrified to see the actual effects of war, and even Sally was fuming. The next scene was of the riots in Guatemala City, although there was now some confusion about what they were actually rioting about. There were also protests in London by a handful of Guatemalan immigrants, outnumbered by the police necessary to protect them from the public. The garrison was still said to be holding on around the airport, although no journalists had managed to get into the area.

I took the children out shopping that afternoon, mostly for something to do with them, but also because I had two more mouths to feed. Jennifer and Kim were a great help in watching over the all too adventurous Rupert, and Sally was a great help in looking after the two of them.

The early evening news had nothing new. It was as if the hurry-up-and-wait nature of war was in its "wait" phase. They were all waiting on some decisive action before starting over again.

Simon called again that evening. Sally, Jennifer and Kim were in earshot, so I put the speaker on, and they gathered round. No, there was no news yet about Holly and Stuart, but Ronyoso had been in Belmopan to look over what he hoped was now his own country, and the Belizians an the British wrere still holding out around the airport - just. "Peter's got a hell of a problem," said Simon, "that carrier is still off the coast of Guatemala, and they've sent more aircraft over to attack our boys. They've been intercepted, and we've shot some of them down, but until he's got rid of the carrier Peter really can't send the Prince of Wales inshore to land the relief force; it's much too vulnerable, and we really can't afford to lose it. At the moment the carrier's in the radar shadow of the mountains and Peter has to try and guess where it is - it's a bit like playing tennis when you can't see your opponent. We're trying to get some airborne early warning from the Yanks, but Sanchez is blowing very cool on it, especially after yesterday's business with the troopships."

"I thought the Americans were our allies?"

"It appears that Sanchez is reverting to type. He has a lot of cousins still in Guatemala, it's possible there were even some on those troopships. We're getting lots of help through our own contacts, but nothing is official, so we can't rely on getting it. In turn, they're desperate to get the combat reports of the F35 against the new Chinese fighter. It's the only time they've ever gone head to head. We've actually got a sub in the Pacific, it was going to do weapons trials on the ranges off San Diego, and it could easily take out the carrier, or Peter could probably organise an airstrike himself with a very good chance of success; it's all in the air at the moment. We can even bracket them, with the Q.E. in the south and the sub in the north. That leaves them a choice of west, and homewards, or Davy Jones. We just wish we could make the Chinese see this and depart quietly, which is why we're keeping so quiet about their carrier even being there. It's all about saving face; we can't threaten them directly or they'll take a stand, and then we'll have a confrontation, and God knows what will happen. They'll lose both face and carrier. It would be much better for us to sink it quickly with a nice anonymous torpedo or a sudden air strike, and then let them have to explain exactly what they were doing there anyway. That would be very humiliating for them, and an awful lot of people would die. Lots of sharks off that coast, and not much chance of rescue. The trouble is that these big carriers are just too large, and too prestigious to risk losing, and you can't make any real use of them without the risk of losing them in some way. They are all about "face" for us as well as the Chinese. By the way, have you had any news about Holly and Stuart?"

"Nothing at all. There's no phone connection either."

I put the phone down, and looked at Jennifer and Sally. They were very still. Eventually Kim got up and said she had better phone her grandfather to tell him that she was all right. As she left the room, I called Jennifer over, and asked her to lay the table for supper. I really just wanted to keep her busy for a while. Simon was playing some kind of deep game, and I would play along with him.

When supper was over I started to nudge the children towards bathtime and bed, as I anticipated it taking some time. Sally helped by doing the washing up, and so I chivvied the girls upstairs. They complained in unison that it was still too early, and begged to be allowed to watch the later news, citing that it was half term, that tomorrow was Sunday, and they were both very worried. I eventually gave in, but on condition that they got ready for bed first. I then gave them what a salesman would call an "alternative close" by asking which of them would take a bath first. Jennifer actually volunteered, but both went into the bathroom together. I left them to it, checked on the soundly sleeping Rupert, and went downstairs. Sally joined me in the lounge with cups of coffee, and we chatted about everything but the war. Eventually the children rejoined us, scrubbed and ready for bed. I patted Jennifer on the bottom to make sure that she was well padded out, and Kim promptly patted her own bottom and repeated her claim of "Solidarity with the wetting classes!" to which I simply replied that it was probably a good thing in the circumstances, which quietened her down a bit. I didn't mention her accident last night, but it might be useful to remind her that I was aware of the situation.

The two girls sat with me on the settee and watched some bonnet drama, and by the time the news came on Jennifer was right out of it, and Kim was almost asleep. The first item was a report from Guatemalan television showing President Ronyoso in Belmopan, strutting proudly around the parliament building escorted by a squad of soldiers in combat gear. Some of the sullen Belizeans in the small crowd were holding Guatemalan flags and trying very hard not to wave them. The commentator was saying that the president was greeting some of the tourists who were to be "held in safekeeping" so they would not be killed or injured by the "capitalist imperialist pirates" who were "murderously bombing Guatemalan homes and hospitals". Hostages, in other words.

The camera panned across a sea of faces and snapped into focus. Sally yelped, and Jennifer woke up sharply "There's Holly! And Stuart!" The camera lingered long enough on Holly's angry face for Jennifer to recognise her mother, and there was instant pandemonium. I tried to field a dozen questions from the excited child as the camera panned across an equally angry Stuart, and down a long line of other faces, before cutting back to the wretched Ronyoso. I couldn't hear a word of Ronyoso's diatribe, nor did I really need to. I was sure that he had found out whom Holly was, and was delighted to use her to intimidate her father. The camera returned to Holly and the lean cruel-looking army officer beside her. Ronyoso couldn't have made the threat clearer.

The phone rang. It was Mum. Had I seen it? Yes, Was I sure it was them? Yes. What was I going to do about it? I was going to call the special number as soon as the phone was free and see if they knew anything. Mum quietened down a little, and I promised her I would let her know the result. Then Amelia rang. Then Emma rang. Then Percy rang. All said the same things. It appeared that the whole family had seen Holly and Stuart and phoned me simultaneously. Eventually I got the line free, and called the help line. After an age on hold I got through and spoke to the nicest, sweetest idiot in Christendom. I told her who I was and she assured me that Peter would be well and I shouldn't worry and he would be alright and I had to shout at her to get her to listen while I told her about Holly and Stuart. She asked me if I was sure, and then if I was really sure and certain, and no, her supervisor was busy on the other line, and no they didn't have any information about the people in Belmopan - she managed to avoid using the word "hostage" and I should ring back in two days if there was any further news. Utterly and completely useless. I put the phone down and fumed. Then I dialled Simon's number in Washington. I got Vickie, and told her about Holly. She said she had already seen the news but hadn't recognised Holly. She would tell Simon straight away and get back to me. I put the phone down and let my temper subside a little. I had done all I could for the moment. I looked at Jennifer, and realised there wasn't any hope of getting her tucked up in bed until this was sorted out.

Eventually Simon got back to me. Apparently there was a major row going on in the State Department, as many of the other people in the report had been identified as US citizens, and a tidal wave of protest was converging on the White House. Ronyoso had never been the flavour of the month in D.C. but it had been hoped that relations might improve under the new President. Those hopes had now been utterly dashed, and the policy towards Guatemala was "under active revision". The news of Holly and Stuart had been passed up the diplomatic channels and was causing more consternation. He'd phoned his contact in Langley, and they had identified the officer standing beside Holly as a Colonel Alvarado, commander of the elite Kaibiles, and a man with a reputation for being utterly ruthless. I thanked Simon for his help, and he thanked me for mine. I wasn't quite sure what I was supposed to have done, but he told me that at least Holly and Stuart were still alive, and it appeared that El Sombrero had finally woken up to the seriousness of the situation.

I sat back and took stock. It seemed that Holly and Stuart were alive and well, and that greater forces were now being mobilised on our side. I gave a long sigh of relief. Then I noticed the clock. It was approaching midnight and the children were still up. I shooed them up to bed. Jennifer appeared rather unhappy, looking at me from under her eyebrows. I asked her what the matter was, and she asked me if she could have a change. I groaned, and she said she was sorry, but she had woken up with such a start on hearing Sally's shout that she had an accident in her nappy. Only a small one. I sighed and patted her on the shoulder, and said that she should have spoken sooner, that there was no need to have to sit there in a wet nappy when she could have had a change. She replied that she didn't want to miss anything. She'd nearly missed spotting her mother, and it was worth putting up with it in case she saw her again. I told her to clean herself up, and opened the new pack of nappies while she did so. Then I looked at Kim, and raised an eyebrow. "How about you, Kim? Are you O K in there?" She nodded, but I told her to use the loo all the same. No point in wetting it if you didn't have to. She gave me a funny look and went into the bathroom as Jennifer came out. I completed Jennifer's change in record time, and bundled them both into bed. I think they were asleep in moments.

I realised that I was totally exhausted, and was glad when Sally came up the stairs to say that she had locked up and turned everything off. I retired to bed and slept the sleep of the greatly relieved.

[alex 04]

nice update hope for more soon

[freswith]

Thank you Alex!

[jbz2079]

Totally exellent, still very interesting.

We wait for further additions- thanks.

[loopy]

So, I'm sat here on a Sunday eve reading a lovely story about a family "secret" and the various methods they use to get dry... then it takes a left turn straight into Tom Clancy territory , Seriously could see the other side being written by him (probably not as well) from the view point of the pentagon, CIA, the bridges of the carriers, would make a cracking thriller .

Still great, read the whole thing from start to here over the weekend, and loved it all.