90th Birthday Party.

Bernice turned 90 years old at the beginning of August. Her family put on a small party for her inviting some family, and friends. Some friends who travel on the same bus trips with her. And past bus drivers, who had taken her on trips.

Here are some of the photo I took.

The three in this photo all have their birthday on the same date - mother, daughter, and grandson. That is why there are two cakes.

Winter Fingers

These are two rugs which I finished recently. The wool was passed on to me from those people not wanting to use it. Each one has been give to a lady who passes them on to people who are in need. I hurried up to finish them while the weather was cool enough to work with such weight on the lap, and not be hot. I had slowed down during the summer months. Now, with the colder months, the writing has slowed because the house is like a freezer. But I have completed the two rugs. I have another one on the go. I am trying to catch up with bits of writing while I have a couple of days of peace. I also seem to have more non interrupted time since I have added my phone number to the "No More Calls" list.

This story is another one I have written for ABC Open.

Winter Fingers


I shivered throughout the night.


The quick change in the weather from hot, to chilly, had all the muscles crying with pain.


In the early hours of the morning, I slipped, shivering, from my cold bed in the search of blankets.


Rivulets of Arctic fire shot up my legs from my feet, when they encountered the wooden, polished


floor.


In the darkness, I opened the cupboard door to grab what felt like blankets, then rushed back to my


bedroom. I shook out each one to dump on the bed before climbing in to try to build some warmth.


Didn't happen.


The chill had settled into my bones.


My feet were like icebergs.


I was still trying to warm my body when my uncle rang.


“I use a thermal blanket,” was his reply, to my complaints. “I only need the one.”


“Yeah,” I thought, remembering where he lived. And the air-conditioner he used to warm his room


before going to bed.


Thermal. The word rang bells.


I had one of those. Somewhere.


I had no intentions of spending another frosty, sleepless night.


I stripped the bed.


After four loads of washing I began my search. Downstairs.


I pulled a striped bag from a wardrobe. Placing it on the bed I zipped it open.


Surprise. Surprise.


No. not the thermal. New blankets still in the package. Never been used.


My triumph faded when I read the size. Queen. Double, I needed.


Not to be beaten. I carried the three packets upstairs.


The mattress had to be turned. With aching fingers I struggled to lift the mattress. Walked it across the base before lowing it to the base.


I set to build my cocoon.


Blanket.


Sheets.


Three new blankets.


New comforter with matching pillowcases.


The over used, shrunk blankets were packed in bags ready to be recycled.


Exhausted. I slipped between the sheets after a warm shower.


Shivering, I couldn't hold the book to read, I cast it aside. Switched off the lamp.


Pulled up the blankets to my ears.


Oh.


What a wondrous haven?


Within minutes I was as warm as freshly toasted bread.


The rising of the sun woke my from a deep sleep. The sheets were hardly rumpled because I hadn't


moved much in my sleep. I put my arm out from the warmth to the cool morning air.


Groaned.


Shivered.


Whipped the covers back into place then went back to sleep.


I'm waiting to see if the fingers of winter that seep through the walls will penetrate the wall of


warmth I have built. With the large blankets reaching the floor, I hope they can't.


Once started on my search I kept going, cleaning, eventually, finding the thermal blankets.


Two weeks of turning out hiding places.


Dusting and moping.


With aching muscles I finished by polishing the stair railings.


The job is completed.

Until I decided to search for another hidden treasure.

Phew!!! Nearly lost the story. I pushed the wrong button. But I found the right one to return it to my file.

Desert Roses

I have changed to growing Desert Roses. (Photo above)
In the past. I liked to grow Cactus.
Due to a disease which go to them I lost all but one. Its just hanging on for dear life. The plant rotted after being covered by some mildew type of fungus.

Now. I'm having fun finding different colours in Desert Roses. I have been collecting them when I have been visiting markets. But there are only some many different colours.

For some reason. I went searching for different colours on the net. Well. Not at first. I searched for another plant I had been trying to find. Searching I found all these different Desert Rose plants. More seeds then plants.

The packets of seeds are arriving. And I'm busy germinating. All have sprouted plants. I just have to wait to see if they flower is the same as the picture I liked.

The above photos are of different stages of the germinating process I have been using.
Once I planted seeds but receive nothing for my trouble. Planting in the soil didn't work. Or I'd been given the wrong seeds.

Then the next time I tried. I had success. I filled a flat plastic container with potting mix. Made a shallow gutter in the middle. About the depth of the first knuckle of my finger. I laid the opening pod face up in the gutter then scraped a little of the potting mix over the top.

What a success. I ended up with over 40 seedlings.

Then. Not wanting to waste money buying seedlings. I decided not to place them in soil. I had read up on different ways to germinate the seed. I put all that together to come up with my own version. I placed water in trays I'd placed on the bench. Sat cotton wool balls in the water. Then I placed a seed on each one.

Surprise. Surprise. Within a few days. The shouts were coming out of the shell. Once they were big enough I planed them into small pots. I have another two trays set waiting. And watching. For the shouts to appear. I've had a 100 percent strike rate so far.

I just have to wait for them to grow to produce the first flower.

Chili Thief

Ah! Caught you.

My Bird's Eye Chili kept disappearing. Not that I use too many.

I knew there was some bird taking them but I could never take a photo of it. I looked out the window one morning and there it was perched in the bush eating the chili whole.

I quickly rushed to the kitchen to grab my camera. Without out making too much noise to alert it to what I intended to do. I set the camera for distance. Pulled back the curtain. Aimed the lens through the security screen design to focus on the bird. I snapped a couple before it flew away.

Its stomach must have been on fire. Or by swallowing the chili whole the heat didn't affect the stomach.

Dead. Or Alive.

   Hasham Croyden closed his office early to go home to his wife, Stella.

 Stella doesn’t like storms. The approaching storm promised to be wild, 

windy, and wet. Accompanied by a striking lightning show with booming 

thunder. The rain pelted down on Hasham soaking his clothes on his race to 

his car. He wanted to reach home before the full force of the storm reached 

their home. Hasham didn’t want Stella fear of storms to bring on an early 

labor.

   The power of the storm built every minute Hasham sat stuck in traffic. 

   He tried to take different streets to escape the gridlock. No matter how many 

turns he took movement crawled at a snail’s pace. Facing a few close shaves. 

Many blaring car horns at his reckless he took. Hasham fought his way to 

the city limits where the traffic thinned out. Though the traffic had thinned 

the rain pelted down clouding his vision of the road ahead. The curving 

mountain road which has many sharp bends. Sheer sides down to the valley 

Below. Trees, and boulders, littered the progress of the car if you were lucky. 

Or the car didn’t explode on impact.

   Trying to avoid not seeing the edge of the road, Hasham kept to the 

middle of the sealed section. Half way up the mountain, on a sharp bend, a 

car with high beam lights, came out of the darkness straight for him. The 

driver of the car drove at speed unsuitable for the weather conditions.

   Hasham pulled hard to the left on the steering wheel to avoid a collision. 

Slammed his foot on to the brake. Too late. The wheels had no traction. His 

car had become airborne. The bump from the other car sent his car over the 

edge to crash down through the trees. And over boulders.

   The driver of the other car swerved to miss Hasham’s car. Skidding om 

the wet road. The back end clipped Hasham’s car bumping it over the side of 

the mountain. He tried to correct the slide of the car. Over correction had the 

car colliding into the side of the steep cutting flipping the car to roll over a 

few times before finally coming to rest in the middle of the road.

   Thunder rolled. Lightning flashed over the deadly scene.

   A truck crawling up the incline had a chance to brake before he smashed 

into the upturned car in the dark. Only for the flash of lightning, the truck 

driver wouldn’t have seen the car. Quickly, applying the trucks caution 

lights. 

He sent out a call over the radio warning of the accident. Stepping down 

from the cab, after retrieving his flashlight, the driver rushed to the up turned 

car to search for the driver. Hearing moaning from the car, the trucker faced 

the torch to shine through the broken windscreen. The car driver hung in his 

seat-belt.

 “Are you, okay, mate,” asked the truck driver of the man struggling to 

release his seat-belt.

   “Let me out of here,” came the slurred voice of the man. “I don’t want to 

die.”

   “Were there any other cars involved in the accident?”

   “I’m not sure. Two flashes. Lightning. Blinded.”

   The truck driver backed away from the car. “Don’t leave me here.” 

Keeping on walking, he shone the flashlight around. Making his way across 

to the edge of the road, he found where Hasham’s car went crashing down 

the side of the mountain. Focusing through the rain into the darkness, he 

Finally found what looked like a headlight of a car.

   Sirens were approaching. Eerily flashing lights slowly made their way up 

the mountain. The thunder. And lightning moved further to the west leaving 

behind a misty rain. Emergency vehicles made their way around the truck, 

and car, to reach the curve. They needed to block the road to stop other 

traffic bursting on to the accident scene.

   “Only one car,” asked the leader of the emergency services.

   “No. There’s another car over the side.” He showed where the car went 

over the side.

  Portable lights were set up to light the accident scene. Paramedics worked 

to free the driver of the first car. Besides a few cuts from flying glass, and 

bruising. He didn’t have any life threatening injuries. But. Alcohol. How 

much had he consumed before getting behind the wheel of his car?  

   Rescuers slowly abseiled down to where Hasham’s car had come to rest. 

The first person on scene checked Hasham over. Didn’t find a pulse. On 

being retrieved. The paramedics didn’t find any sign of life. Declared dead. 

His body placed in a bag to be delivered to the morgue.

   The police went to the home of Hasham to notify Stella her husband had 

died in the accident. Shock from the news. And the terror she had been 

through with the fear of storms. She went into immediate labor. Crumpling 

to the floor. Unconscious.

   A call was made for an ambulance to be sent to the home of Hasham 

Croyden. Unconscious woman possibly in labor.

   By the time the paramedics arrived the head of the baby had crowned. A 

baby girl born a few minutes later. The mother opened her eyes to find her 

entrance hall packed with people.

   “What happened?” Stella turned her head to the right at the wail of her 

baby. Her hands automatically went to her stomach.

   “You have a beautiful daughter,” one paramedic told her.

   “Why, now? She should have been a son. A son who looked like my-” 

she sniffed. “He’s dead. Isn’t he? I remember being told.”

   “Yes,” said the policewoman who’d been standing near the doorway. 

“We need someone to identify the body. Do you have a relative willing to do 

this for you?” 

   “I’ll do it. Where did they take him?”

   “Once you’ve been settled...”

   “No. I want to see him on the way to the hospital to show him his 

daughter. Or I won’t budge.”

   Stella and her baby, were loaded into the ambulance for the journey to 

the hospital. The police led the way down the mountain past the area where 

the accident had happened. People still worked to clear the area.

   Arriving in town, the police, and paramedics went with her to the morgue. 

She had to ride there in a wheelchair. One of the paramedics carried the 

baby. They were all led into the room where the body bag waited to be 

opened. The zip was slide down enough to open for her to see Hasham.

   The baby wailed.

   A deep suction of air echoed around the quiet room.

   Hasham opened his eyes. Sat up. “Where am I?”

   Stella screamed. Her head flopped back against the chair. Now out for 

the count. again.

   One paramedic rushed over to Hasham. He checked his pulse.

   “What’s going on here?” Hasham looked at all the shocked faces.

   “Are you Hasham Croyden,” asked the policewoman. Hasham nodded. 

“You were in a car accident. You were declared dead at the scene. You were 

brought to the morgue.”

   Confused. Hasham shook his head. “Who thought up this joke?”

   “No joke, sir. You can read all about this in tomorrows newspaper. The 

driver who hit you will be pleased you are alive. He won’t be facing a 

manslaughter charge.” The baby wailed once again. “While you have been 

out of circulation. Your wife gave birth to a baby girl. Congratulations.”

   “Time to deliver this family upstairs to a warm, comfortable bed,” said 

the paramedic with the baby. Another wheelchair arrived to take them all to 

emergency to be checked over.

                                     ------------------------------------------

I received an e-mail from someone suggesting the topic of a person declared dead at the scene but later returned to life. This is the way I set up the story.

If you want to follow my stories on ABC just use the link.

https://open.abc.net.au/projects/500-words-personal-challenge-56xt3jr/contributions/don-t-look-down-03ed0ei

This is a 500 word story I did on the fear of heights. There are a few other stories on different topics. New ones are put up each month. Have to do my one for March. Yet.

Forgive and Forget

Lady Siron Roberts drove her Bentley to her reserved parking bay.

Another car stood in her place.

She couldn't believe someone had the nerve to park their rattle-trap. Piece of junk. In her parking place. Furious. With the unknown upstart who dared to take the park of Lady Siron Roberts. She skidded the car tyres on the loose gravel. Sped down the row nearly colliding with another car. She swung into an empty parking bay.

She slammed the car door. Marched down the row to where she usually parked. She was shocked to find her name had been taken from the wall. The sign had been replaced with the name of another. Her temper rose another notch. She managed to keep it under control.

“Morning. Elizabeth.” Lady Roberts forced a smile. While she spoke to a friend. A co-worker.

“Humph.” Elizabeth walked away. She had looked at her like she had turned into a bag lady who had never washed. Not a wealthy lady who had respect of her peers.

Other friends. Co-workers. Whispered to each other when Lady Roberts walked into the building. They stopped. Stared at her with revolution then quickly moved on before they were contaminated with her crime. They knew of the charges of her crime she'd be facing when she walk into the conference room. Someone had accused her of these misdemeanour.

“Morning. Helen,” she greeted one woman who came to stop near Siron. Not a smile cracked on her face. Or a greeting. “How are you this lovely morning,” came out from behind clenched teeth. She didn't want to demand why she was being treated like she had the plague.

“Madam Chairperson would like you to see her in the conference room. Straight away,” Helen emphasised, then turned to lead the way to the room.

“Is there a problem?” Siron increased her usually dainty steps to keep astride with Helen.

“I'm only the messenger. I drew the short straw.” Helen opened the door. Led the way into the room, not affording Lady Siron Roberts her proper due being a Lady.

All eyes present stared at Siron. Some unwelcome. Not a friendly face to be found. In a short span of time, she had become the enemy.

“Morning. Ladies. What has happened around here this morning. There have been some changes since, yesterday.”

“The Crown of Empress Veron has been removed from the showcase. I have notified the police about the disappearance. They want to ask you a few questions,” Madam Chairperson announced in her stern voice.

“Why me. I didn't know the crown was missing.”

“Everyone else have accounted for their movements. You were seen near the display case admiring the crown for a long time, yesterday.”

“I glanced at the crown in passing. I tried to imagine how anyone was able to keep the monstrosity on their head. I didn't take it.” Siron was mortified she had been accused of the crime she had not committed.

“It has been brought to our attention you were seen taking the crown from the building,” Madam Chairperson told Siron. “Because of this theft. You are no longer welcome in this museum. Hand over your badge.” Her wrinkled, bejewelled hand, she held it out for the badge to placed in it.

Siron smiled. She unclipped the badge. She let it slip from her fingers to the floor where she stepped on it with her shoe. Crushed it to pieced. Rubbed it into the carpet. She turned then went to storm out of the room. She opened the door to find two police officers were standing waiting for her. They took her away.

At the police station Siron had to go through the indignity of being searched. Questioned. Fingerprinted. Photographed to have her picture placed in their files. The police obtained a warrant to search her home, and car, for the stolen property, while she was held at the police station.

No matter how long the police badgered her with questions. Siron sat with a secret smile on her face. “I don't have the crown. I didn't take it.”

“But you know who did, don't you,” one of the officers finally surmised. “Why don't you tell us what you know?”

“I. Did not. See. The crown being stolen. I don't know where it is,” she persisted with a tough stand in the face of adversity.

“You can go home if you tell us what you know.”

“I hope you left my daughter's room the way you found it. She knows if any of her mess has been disturbed.” She slowly rose from her chair with much dignity she was able to muster to stroll toward the door.

“Where do you think you are going?”

“To do your job of finding the real thief.” She still held her smile in place. She quietly closed the door.

Lady Roberts was enthroned in her lounge room when her daughter arrived home bubbling over with happiness.

“Look at the beautiful necklace Danny gave me.” Jessica held the necklace away from her body for her mother to see. She didn't see the savage look in her mother's eyes before the necklace was grabbed. The delicate chain snapped from the force her mother used to remove it from around her neck.

“Ouch.” Jessica cried at the pain the pulled chain had caused before it broke. “What did you do that for. Give me back my necklace.” Tears streamed down her cheeks. She was disappointed with her mother's reaction. Jessica made a grab for the hand from which the necklace dangled.

Lady Roberts snatched back her arm. Rolled her arm over like bowling a cricket ball. She sent the offending necklace sail through the air to have it land out of sight.

“I hate, you,” cried Jessica. She unsuccessfully searched for her treasure.

“You can hate me all you like. My girl. You are to have nothing to do with Danny. I forbid you to go near him ever, again.”

“You never did like Danny. You're a snob. You don't Like Danny because his family isn't rich. I'm going to live with Danny, if he'll let me. He appreciates me. He loves me. You don't love anyone but yourself.”

“At least I'm not a criminal. Even though. I've been treated like one all day. It isn't fun being hauled down to the police station to be fingerprinted. Have a mug shot taken. Have my body searched. And treated like a leper because someone had accused me of a crime I didn't commit.”

“What are you rabbiting on about. Why were you at the police station. It's a wonder you know there are such things outside your silver cloud.”

“I was dragged into a police car. I spent hours being. Grilled. I think the word is. You want to know why.” Jessica stared at her mother like she had never seen her before. “I'll tell you. Your wonderful Danny's mother. Has accused me. Me of all people. Of stealing a valuable crown from the museum. Is that how Danny can afford to buy you such a valuable gift?”

“You have a nasty mind. Why would his mother steal the crown. She earns money by working.”

“Dealing in stolen goods. Selling them on the black market?”

“I hate you,” echoed through the house when Jessica ran from the house to go to find Danny. Jessica was unaware she was being followed. She hadn't believed the story her mother had told her. Danny's mother was a thief.

She raced all the way to the home of Danny. Te trip took longer than usual because she kept running into objects. Blinded by the tears streaming down her face.

Jessica banged on the front door. She kept banging until the door was answered by his mother. “Hello.”

“Where's Danny,” Jessica shouted, not wanting to speak to his mother.

“He's in.”

“Danny. Danny,” Jessica yelled. She pushed her way past his mother to find him.

Danny came rushing from his room to find Jessica running toward him. “What happened?” She rushed into his arms. “Where's your necklace? Did you lose it?”

“Mother took it. Threw it away.” Jessica lifter her head to look at his mother. “Maybe you should ask your mother why?”

“My mother. Why would my mother know?” He looked from Jessica to his mother. “Would one of you tell me what's going on.”

“How would I know?” The defiant look said his mother wouldn't talk.

Danny looked at Jessica for her to answer.

“I gather your mother is responsible for the police dragging my mother down to the police station”

Shock showed on his face. “What? What was the charge?”

“Theft. Some silly crown is missing from the museum.”

Danny looked at his mother with disgust. Disappointment. He shook his head. “How could you? You promised you wouldn't steal, again. So you fooled the doctors, once again. I'm ashamed to call you. Mother.”

“I didn't do it.”

“You say that every time. Promised me you'd never do it again. What else have you taken no one has missed. Yet.”

She made me do it. The snobbish. Bitch. She thinks she is better than me. I'm dog poo beneath her shoes. Now. She the dog poo. Let her suffer the indignity of having a police record.” Her temper rose with every word she spoke. She was ready to explode into action.

“I think you've said enough,” said the officer, who stepped through the open doorway. He was fol lowered by two others. “Cuff her.” She fought. Struggled. In the end she was cuffed ready to be taken away.

“Sorry about this, son. Would you have any idea where she might stash her booty?”

“You're welcome to search. I know the drill.” The officer shook his head at the defeated look on the boy's face. 'We'll go wait in the kitchen.”

The crown. And other pieces. Were found, finally. Bagged ready to be taken to the police station. Different pieces were spread throughout the house.

“We may have to return for another search if more pieces are found to be missing.”

“Take the key. I might not be here. She's had her last chance.”

“Where will you stay?”

“Don't know, yet. My first place to go will be to apologise to Lady Roberts for my mother's behaviour.”

Danny. And Jessica. Made their way to her home. They both had planned an apology to Lady Roberts. Holding hands. Jessica opened the door to her home. They walked into the lounge room to find Lady Siron Roberts enthroned on the couch with a glass in her hand sipping a drink.

“So you have chosen to return home. Are you here to stay?” She stared at Jessica.

“Lady Roberts. I've come to apologise for what my mother has done to you. She has been arrested. This wasn't her first time.”

“I'm sorry I didn't believe you, mother. I don't hate you. I was upset.”

Lady Roberts placed her drink on the coffee table. Stood. Walked out of the lounge room without saying another word. Jessica. And Danny. Stared at the retreating back. Moments later Lady Roberts returned with the vacuum cleaner. “I suppose we had better search for the necklace. Them make a room ready for Danny to sleep in.” The phone rang while Danny plugged in the socket. Jessica went to answer the phone.

“Mum. You are wanted on the phone.” Jessica put down the receiver. She went to help search for the necklace.

“Siron picked up the receiver. “Hello,” she said, thinking a reporter may have heard of her arrest.

There was a moment of silence before the caller spoke. “Siron,” spoke Helen, not wanting to make the call. “Madam Chairperson.”

“Helen,” Siron butted in before Helen had time to finish her spiral. “You can tell Madam Chairperson to take her gracious offer and shove it.”

“Mother,” said a shocked Jessica, hearing what her mother had to say.

“I'll no longer be supporting the museum with my donations. I have a more rewarding project in mind.” Lady Roberts slammed down the receiver.

After a long search the necklace was found. Together. Lady Roberts. Jessica. And Danny cleaned away the dishes then sat at the table to repair the necklace. Restore the faith in each other.

Three Different Views

Different Views.

We were given a topic, with characters. We had to write it in three different ways. The way of the man, woman, and child. First I started with the Man.

Man.

Jason sat in the lazy boy chair reading the evening paper. His smelly pipe sending up curls of smoke toward the ceiling.

The smell of the smoke made Helen's stomach churn. Turn sour. She gagged. She rose from her chair to race toward the bath room. Sounds of Helen being sick reached Jason in the lounge room.

He made his way to the bathroom. Knocked on the door. “Are you, okay, dear. What did you eat to make you sick. Do you need me to ring the doctor?” Jason heard Helen mumble. He didn't catch all the words. “What did you say, dear?”

The door jerked open. A pasty face Helen came out of the bathroom. “I've been to the doctor,” she said, on her way back to the lounge room..

“What did the doctor say was wrong,” he asked, following in her wake.

“I'm pregnant,” shouted Helen. “You should be pleased.”

“I think you had better find another doctor. You doctor is a quack.” Jason looked closely at his wife for her reaction. “There's no possible way you can be pregnant.”

“Have you become a doctor. He took all the tests. The results were all positive.” Helen looked at her husband with suspicion. The look told her to tread wearily because her husband knew something she didn't. “How can you be certain you didn't make a mistake.”

A nasty smile curled up each side of his lips to show his temper had risen. He folded the paper to gently place on the table beside the chair. The pipe he bumped into the ash tray to empty the bowl. Jason glared at his wife while he pocketed the pipe.

“I'm one hundred percent certain the child can't be mine. You want a child so Ilet you adopt Cheryl. You wanted this marriage even though you knew I loved another. So who is the father. Do I know him?”

“You're the father. Why are you in denial?”

“Sorry. Helen. You have the wrong man. I won't accept another man's child to have my name. Falsely.”

“How can you be certain?”

“Because I had a vasectomy.” He ignores the shocked gasp from his wife. “Before we were married.”

“You did what?” Helen couldn't believe her husband was so cruel.

“You taught me well. My unfaithful wife.” Jason turned to leave the room. “You had better find the right father. If you can. Hope he will be able to support you. You are finished in this house.” Jason whistled a happy tune when he walked from the house.

Woman

Helen had hoped for years to have a baby of her own. Even though, she loved her adopted daughter, she still craved to have her husband's child. Or a child her husband thought was his. In all the years they had been married they were no closer than the day they were married. Emotionally. She had prayed Jason would have learned to love her. But. There was a wall around his heart ans he didn't let her in.

Time was passing for Helen. She had to do something quick before the window of opportunity had passed her by. She'd soon be too old to have a chance to conceive.

While Jason was away on a business trip Helen began to put her plan into action. She has made plans to be impregnated at the IVF clinic. She had book for the day after Jason had left on his trip. She prayed there would be no complications for him to cancel his plans to leave. Helen had even sussed out the person to help her with her plan. But. As yet. He didn't know he'd been vetted to fulfil her scheming plan.

By the time Jason had returned from his extended business trip, Helen had passed her first trimester in her pregnancy. She was very pleased with herself. She had the scan. The scan showed she was having twins. Helen expected Jason would be excited to know he'd finally be a real father. But. Her hopes were dashed. He didn't even comment of the fact she was pregnant.

“Haven't you anything to say?” Helen looked at Jason, to watch for signs of reaction to the news. “Aren't you even pleased we are going to have our own baby?”

“You look like you've put on a bit of weight from all the parties you've been going to while I've been away.” Jason turned from Helen to go up the steps.

“Aren't you happy we are going to have a baby. We've been trying for years.”

“I haven't been trying. You have been doing all the hoping. And wishing. I haven't. Your condition has nothing to do with me.”

“But this is our baby. Babies to be exact. We're to be the parents of twins.”

“That'll keep you busy for years. There goes your party life style.” Jason hurried up the stairs to the master bedroom before he told her what her thought of her scheming.

Helen waited in the lounge room for Jason to return. He didn't come back down the stairs.

“Mum. What's wrong with, dad,” Cheryl asked, when she found her mother in the lounge room.

“Probably shocked to hear he's going to be a father. He'll come around once he becomes used to the idea.”

Cheryl shook her head. “I don't think so.” She worried her bottom lip with her teeth. “Dad's not a happy chap. He's mad like a wild hornet.”

“Why do you say that,” asked her mother, puzzled by Cheryl's words.

“Dad is moving his clothes into the suit at the end of the passage.”

“He wouldn't.” Helen couldn't believe Jason would do such a thing.

“You go and have a look if you don't believe me. I wouldn't stand in his way.” Cheryl advised her mother. “He'll trample over you and keep moving. I think I'll go out for awhile until he cools down.” Cheryl left the house not wanting to be there when the storm hit.

Helen went up the stairs to see what Jason was doing. She was surprised to see her daughter had been right. Jason was busy moving his belongings to the suit.

“Why are you moving your clothes?”

“You have the use of the bedroom until the babies are born. In the meantime, I'll look around for somewhere you can move to.”

“I'm not moving, anywhere. We'll have children to raise. Your children What will people say if you throw me out?”

“You deserved what you received.”

Helen deluded herself thing would change but the gap grew wider. She prayed Jason would change his mind when the babies were born. The battle had been lost years ago when Helen had struck a deal with the devil.

Jason had everything in place for the day the babies were born. He had test done before the babies arrived.. More tests were taken the day the babies were born.

“The girl is yours to keep,” Jason told Helen “The boy is mine. You will go to your new home from here. We are finished. Your scheming day are over. 'Bye, Helen.”

“But. Why. You can't,” spluttered Helen.

Jason stopped at the doorway. “I know all about your last scheme.” Jason walked away. Out of her life. He'd taken with him his son. He'd paid for the treatment she had taken to have the babies. So by rights. One half of the pair belonged to him.

Girl

Helen, and Jason, were seated in the lounge room. Jason smoking his pipe like usual while reading the newspaper. Helen sat knitting baby clothes. Or was attempting to make something for the babies. She wasn't very successful.

Jason ignored her.

Or he answered in monosyllables.

Cheryl walked to the lounge room door. She had, finally, picked up enough courage to conquer the mountain her parents had built between them. Her family had never been a close, loving affair. They tolerated each other for appearances sake. Now. Jason didn't try. He blocked every advance his wife made to put the marriage on an even keel.

Taking a deep breath to fortify her courage. Cheryl marched into the lounge room to stand near her squabbling parents. “Would you two mind keeping the noise level, down. I can't hear myself think.”

Two pairs of eyes swung in her direction. The looks she received told her they believed she had flipped her lid.

“I can still hear the noise. What are you two doing?” Neither of her parents spoke. They waited to see what happened next. Cheryl rubbed her stomach. “Ah. Gee. It's my stomach. It's making the most of noise I've heard in weeks. This house is worse than the library. Even the vermin are complaining. They're not game to move from their hiding place.”

“What are you on this week. Cheryl,” her mother sniffed the air for any telling signs.

“Sniffing won't help. Mum.” Cheryl advised her mother. “Not with dad burning manure. The smell would drown out anything I might have used.”

“You had better mind your manners, my girl.” She had, finally, received verbal attention from her father. “You're not to big to be put across my knee to receive a spanking.”

“Hooray.” Cheryl cheered. “You both can still. Talk. I thought the both of you had lost the power of speech. Now. I've solved one problem. Maybe you can explain the silent. Cold shoulder treatment. You had been dealing out around here.”

“Are you trying to be a smart ass. Cheryl.” Her mother not pleased with her daughter's straight talking.

“While we are speaking. Will someone tell me why this family has derailed. Before you tell me a pack of lies. Or half truths. I'll know which is which. I've been doing some research into the background.”

“You've what?” She now had the attention of both of her parents. Each praying Cheryl hadn't pried too deep.

“There's nothing to find,” said Helen.

“Wrong.”

“This was an arranged marriage. I didn't want it,” replied Jason.

“Hooray. Some truth.”

“We loved each other,” claimed Helen.

“What rubbish. I was forced to bend to the will of my family,” Jason counter claimed, sending dagger looks at his wife.

Cheryl reached into her coat pocket to produce a few sheets of paper. “Would you like me to tell you both about this, so called, family. It's very interesting reading. Dad seems to have the cleaner slate. So we'll begin with him.”

Cheryl explained how her father had been in love with someone else. He has some of his sperm saved before he had a vasectomy.

Mum had used family pressure to be married to dad. You found out what dad had done. Savage at him. You bribed someone for some of the sperm to mix with your eggs. But. They were impregnated into another woman. You paid for her services so you were able to adopt me. The same idea has been used for you to become pregnant. You have also had a sleazy affair in the event the other didn't work.

“So. I'm really your daughter. I don't have to look for the people who gave me up for adoption. The rest is interesting reading. There's a copy for each of you.” Cheryl placed the papers on the coffee table between her parents. “I'll return home in a day. Or two. To find out if the house still stands.” She walked out of the lounge room before the explosions began.