Magic Sometimes Happens Part 24

Did Mr Wonderful know what had happened between Ben and Alexis? If so, did it trouble him at all? Or was he too busy showing Europe how to manage its affairs?

I took Rosie's hand. I told myself whatever happened next, I would never let this woman go.

ROSIE.

'You're a dark one, aren't you, mate?' said Tess, when we met for coffee in a Starbucks two days later. 'So how long has this been going on?'

'Since he was here in February.'

'So when I was staying at your flat and you said you hadn't got a bloke, that wasn't strictly accurate?'

'Tess, I didn't know if he'd be coming back. After all, his life is in America, and anyway he's married.'

'Yes, and as we both know very well, that never stops them, does it?'

'This isn't just a casual Tess, I'm not even going to say the word. It's serious. I love him, he loves me.'

'Of course you love him. He's absolutely gorgeous and I must admit I rather fancy him myself. But, my clever intellectual friend with your degree from Cambridge and your quarter blue in tiddlywinks as you have observed, the man is married, and he has children, too.'

'So perhaps this means he's really serious about me, is prepared to make a lot of sacrifices so that he can be with me?'

'So perhaps this is his way of paying back his wife? She cheated on him, yes. But what's he doing, if not cheating back?'

'It's not like that at all.'

'Of course it's not. This is a love to last a lifetime. You're Romeo and Juliet. You're Antony and flaming Cleopatra. You're Cathy Whatsername in Wuthering Heights and Mr Rochester.'

'Mr Rochester is in Jane Eyre.'

'Yes, okay, whatever. Just you be careful, girl. You have your fun and ring me when it all goes pear-shaped, right?'

'What's the matter, Rosie?'

Pat was lying on my sofa. I was lying on Pat. I refused to let myself think any more about what Tess had said.

'Nothing,' I replied.

'You're not usually so quiet.'

'I'm tired.'

'You got a headache?'

'No.' I kissed him. 'But I think I want to go to bed.'

PATRICK.

Lexie called to say that she and Mr Wonderful were going on a trip to Dsseldorf. He had meetings with some guys from German banks. He'd be sorting out the world's financial crisis, right? I guess it had to be?

They would be gone three days, said Lex and, when I asked for details of their travel schedule, she announced that they were booked on British Airways and were going first cla.s.s. Then she added she would sure appreciate it if I'd watch the kids while they were gone.

'Why can't you take them with you?'

'Pat, why don't you want to see your children?'

'I do want to see them. But it's kind of awkward when I'm working.'

'I really don't see why.'

'Okay, I'll take them to some meetings. Maybe Poll could join in the discussion? Joe could swing by at my lectures, too?'

Lexie told me not to be sarcastic because it was the lowest form of wit. Why did I not have a few days off, take this opportunity to show my children some of quaint, historic Britain: castles, turrets, battlements and genuine haunted houses? Stephen said ...

I couldn't give a s.h.i.t what Stephen said. But I postponed a lecture. I told the graduate students I'd arranged to meet that I'd be out of town and I rescheduled all my stuff with them.

I hired a Volkswagen sedan, made reservations for the kids and me at a hotel in Guildford. This was close to where the Limey had a house where he and Lexie and the kids hung out, that's when they weren't at his apartment someplace in the City.

Guildford was allegedly a quaint, historic town convenient for lots of other quaint, historic stuff. I saw it had a Starbucks anyway. I thought this might be useful because the woman on the desk at the hotel had looked at me like I must be an alien form of life who might bite or sting her on her stuck-up British nose.

So I didn't think this place would be exactly welcoming to kids. But where would kids be welcome? I'd realised the British mostly have no time for kids. Of course, no British people were ever kids themselves.

Lexie and the children met me at a filling station nearly two hours late. No apologies were made for jerking me around, wasting my time. Lexie had a printed list of dos and don'ts. 'You'll need this, Pat,' she said.

I saw green salads, outdoor exercise and early bedtimes, these were all still mandatory. As for fries and shakes and acting like a pair of monkeys in a zoo, yelling, fighting and mad-housing, they were still forbidden. So was drinking water from a faucet bottled water only was allowed so that was new.

'It's in case of allergies,' she told me.

'How can a person have an allergy to water?'

'You don't know what's in the water here in Europe, Patrick. Stephen says-'

'Lex, I'm sure you have a busy schedule, so don't let me hold you up.'

As Lexie drove, or rather kangaroo-hopped she clearly wasn't on good terms with British stick shifts yet out of the parking lot, I dropped her idiot list into the nearest garbage bin.

'What now, Dad?' asked Joe.

'Let's go have ourselves a bunch of fun.'

'Dad, can we be alligators?'

'Awigators?' echoed Polly.

'Yeah, sounds good to me,' I told them. 'Okay, guys, let's go.'

A year back, Lexie had banned alligators. They were not allowed in the apartment. They made too much noise. They flooded out the bathroom and terrified our nearest neighbours who were nervous seniors with a ton of heart conditions.

I doubted alligators were allowed in Mr Wonderful's and Lexie's place too messy, too much fun?

I thought it likely the kids were starved of fun. So when we came back to the hotel, I let Joe and Polly fill the bathtub and burrow underneath a zillion bubbles, shrieking like a pair of banshees, soaking all the towels and robes and flicking blobs of foam up all the walls.

Meantime, while my children learned through play, I called up Rosie, told her Lexie was back Friday. 'So could I see you Friday evening? Unless ...'

'Unless?' she prompted me.

'You'd like to take a day off work and spend some time with me and Joe and Polly?'

'I don't know.'

'You don't know what?'

'Perhaps I shouldn't no, forget it. Actually, I'd like to meet your children. I'd like it very much. Why don't we meet in Pat, where are you, anyway?'

'Guildford.'

'Why are you in Guildford?'

'It's historical and Lexie says the kids could use some history.'

'The last time I was there, I noticed a historical McDonald's, ancient Topshop and a venerable Gap. They must all have been there since well, 1995? Okay, I'll come and find you and then we'll take the children somewhere seriously historical. I know just the place.'

'Where do you have in mind?'

'You wait and see,' she said mysteriously. 'But I can tell you now you and the children, you're going to be impressed.'

'Come on, Rosie, give me just one little clue?'

'It's not too far from Guildford. It's unique. You have nothing like it in America. If you go into Google Maps, you'll find it. There four clues see you tomorrow, right?'

So I invited her to meet my kids.

Why didn't I do this before?

I don't really know, except that she had never mentioned kids, had never said she liked them, didn't like them, wanted any of her own, was seriously into cats. I wasn't sure if she and Joe and Poll would get along.

I guessed I'd soon find out.

She said four clues. I clicked on Google Maps. But then Joe started drowning Polly, so I went into the bathroom, pulled the plug.

When Joe and Polly were dried off and dressed again, we rode the elevator to the restaurant. There, they stuffed their faces where did I hear that expression, maybe it was one of Rosie's with a bunch of things their mother didn't let them touch: delicious British fries and chicken strips in neon-orange breadcrumbs no artificial colours, flavours in the meals for kids, or so it stated on the menu card, but I didn't buy that for a second and chocolate shakes with sprinkles and marshmallows on the top.

They traded sprinkles Joe refused to eat the pink ones, Polly wanted all the pink ones argued over who had got most red ones, agreed that greens were poisonous.

'Listen, guys, I have something to tell you,' I began, as they slurped and blew big chocolate bubbles and made patterns with their sprinkles on their plates. Two pairs of eyes were suddenly locked on mine, daring me to tell them there was lettuce for dessert. 'Tomorrow morning, we're going to meet a lady.'

'Who?' demanded Joe.

'She's one of Daddy's friends.'

'What's she like?'

'She's young, she's nice.'

'She's pretty?'

'Yeah, she's very pretty.'

'She's a guardian ad litem?'

'What?' I frowned at him. 'Where did you hear that expression, little guy?'

'Mom asked Stephen if we'd need a guardian ad litem for us kids if you decided to play dirty.'

Oh, she did?

'What's a guardian ad litem, Dad?'

'It's a person who's appointed by a court of law to look out for the welfare of minors and people who are otherwise incapable. Rosie's not a guardian ad litem. She's a British lady. I'm sure you guys will like her very much.'

I wiped the glop from Polly's face then picked her up and took Joe by the hand. 'Okay, let's go,' I said. 'We got a busy day tomorrow. So why don't we head up to our room and get some sleep?'

All kids are programmed to trip their parents up.

'What happened to The Terminator, Dad?' asked Joe, yawning as I tucked him up in bed.

'He got blown up,' I said.

'Dad!' Joe was suddenly wide awake again and his big brown eyes filled up with tears. 'Why did you let him get blown up? Mommy said you'd take good care of him!'

'Oh, you mean that Terminator!' I forgot the rodent. 'When you and Polly came to the UK with Mom, I asked your teacher to look after him. Mrs Daley has him in your homeroom.'

'No kidding, Dad?'

'No kidding, Joe.' I found my cell. 'See here, little buddy here are pictures of your homeroom here's the petting corner and here's The Terminator, safe and snug inside his cage.'

'Dad, can we go see him on the weekend?'

'We're in Europe now, Joe. So I'm sorry, but that won't be possible.'

'Does Mrs Daley know he likes zucchini?'

'Yeah, I wrote it down. Now you guys get some sleep.'

'Tell us a story first.'

'Stowy,' echoed Polly.

'I don't know any stories.'