A Tale of Dinosaurs and Dahlias

From: FelicityFarmer@webworld.com

To: EmilyEveret@silversurf.co.uk

Subject: The Most Massive Favour Ever

Darling Emmet

Well aware this is asking something absolutely beyond enormous and know how I’m putting on you and putting you in a terrible position. If you say no, honestly, I’ll understand, and hope I can work something else out. 

I have to go into hospital for some more tests. Dr Mason talked about “Just clearing a few things up,” and I’ve always found him to be an honest man. But I’ll admit I’m worried sick.

And I’m worried sick about Matt too. He’s my little man of the house and I couldn’t be more proud of him. But the fact is, Emmet, he is only six, and it would mean so much to me to have him with someone I love and trust as much as I do you while I’m in hospital. 

Please let me know either way.

Thanks for being you.

Love ever, Fliss.

From: EmilyEveret@silversurf.co.uk

To: FelicityFarmer@webworld.com

Subject: Of course!

Dearest Fliss

Of course I’ll look after Matt while you’re in hospital! You just put your whole focus on getting well. He’s such a dear little lad, and I know you’re not supposed to have favourites but I sometimes think I’d have to say he’s my favourite great nephew. 

I’ve a rough idea of what food he likes and what his little ways are and all that, but please let me know if there’s anything in particular I should be aware of.

God bless you, love!

A big hug from Emmet

From: FelicityFarmer@webworld.com

To: EmilyEveret@silversurf.co.uk

Subject: Million Thanks

My precious Emmet

You are the best Great Auntie in the history of the universe, official, as Matt would say. This is such a huge weight off my mind. I had a quiet little heart to heart with him and he was so grown-up about it though I could see his lips trembling. Trying to be brave he asked me why we called you Emmet. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t told him before, but I did so now, about how you were called Emily, and Emmet is a word for a(u)nt! He thinks insects are fantastic (not sure I agree with him about that) and that it’s the coolest name and reason for a name ever.

But don’t worry, he won’t be bringing any insects with him – he has strict instructions on that subject though apologies in advance if he imports any creepy-crawlies from the garden! 

     The other massive thing in his life right now is (are? You have always been better at grammar than me – or than I, I suppose!) dinosaurs. He knows a quite impressive amount about them and will be bringing a couple of his models. He currently takes them to bed with him instead of his teddy, though he was at pains to point out that he always explains to Ted Tom that he does still love him really and he’s not to be upset or offended. Yes, Emmet, he actually used the word “offended” – wonder where he picked that up! 

     About his eating habits, well, I didn’t bring him up to be fussy, and he still isn’t. He’s pretty much an omnivore, though he has recently developed a bit of a phobia about runny eggs. As I’m inclined to agree with him on that score, I’m not inclined to lay the law down! I’m not that doctrinaire about sweets and can trust you not to stuff him with him, though he does have a weakness for Jaffa Cakes (er, I wonder who he takes after?). He genuinely does prefer water to fizzy drinks, which is a blessing, and he’s also quite partial to a cup of tea on occasion.

     I know you’re not the type who’d want me to say thank you, thank you, over and over, but believe me it’s what I’m thinking.

Love ever, Fliss

From: EmilyEveret@silversurf.co,uk

To: BattyHatty@openweb.co.uk

Subject: What have I let myself in for?

My dear Hatty,

I still say your email address is the most inappropriate one ever as you’re the sanest person I know and offer the best advice, too, and I mean that as a compliment though I know you might not take it as one!

     Life is going to get “interesting” at The Eaves in the not too distant, in fact, in the very near future. My lovely niece Fliss (I know you’ve met) has to go into hospital, and I’ve agreed (how could I do otherwise?) to look after her little boy Matt while she’s there.

     I don’t need to tell you that I love both of them more than life itself. Fliss and I have always had far more than the normal Great-Aunt, Great-Niece relationship, and Matt’s a great kid – I know you don’t like the word “kid” for children but he IS! All the same, I wonder what I’ve let myself in for. Pete, bless him, used to say that he sometimes thought people who didn’t have children didn’t for a reason. Well, I’m not at all sure about that. But I do know that though I love children and though I say it myself, I have a way with them, I’m not quite sure how I’ll cope having sole charge of an intelligent and hyper-active little boy who’s missing his mother for nearly a week. 

     I know this is going to sound incredibly petty, and you, more than most, perhaps, know I’m not that house-proud, let alone “garden proud” but my dahlias are doing particularly well this year, and I’m rather proud of them, and even though Matt is by no means a destructive or inconsiderate little boy, he’s still a little boy, and little boys tend to run rampage over gardens, without much bothering about what’s within them.

     I tell myself it doesn’t matter, but know that you, Hatty, will understand, even though I doubt it would ever matter that much to YOU.

     He’s into dinosaurs and hates runny eggs and loves Jaffa Cakes. Well, that’s something to go on.

     Wish me luck!

     With Love, Em

From: BattyHatty@openweb.co.uk

To: EmilyEveret@silversurf.co.uk

Subject: Sooner You than Me!

Oh Saintly One!

You think I’m joking? I mean every last word of it, from the depths of my agnostic heart to the depths of your good and faithful C of E one! Not that I needed any confirmation that you are a far, far better person than I am, and as that irritating TV presenter used to say I mean that most sincerely! My advice, which you seem to value so highly, would be along the lines of – oh dear, what am I going to say? I was about to say move heaven and earth to get out of it, but that makes me sound like a very mean person. Truth to tell I suppose that in your position I’d do the same, but not with such a willing heart – and for all you’re worried about your dahlias, I can tell that you have a willing heart and don’t go denying it. 

     Not that I’m maligning your nephew, who I’m sure is a delightful child, as small boys generally are, as long as you can send them home after their visit. And then collapse with a large gin! 

     It goes without saying I send all my best wishes to Fliss. Only met her a couple of times, but she struck me as a lovely young woman, and I trust your judgement. What’s that saying? Bad things happen to good people!

     All of you in my thoughts, and remember I’m at the end of a phone if you want to “vent” when young Matt is tucked up in bed.

     Yours in admiration, Hatty.

From: EmilyEveret@silversurf.co.uk

To: BattyHatty@openweb.co.uk

Subject: Knackered!

Yes, dear Hatty, the Saintly One (trust me, that’s not justified!) is using language I’d tell young Matt off for using in no uncertain terms, even if his Mum is in hospital! 

     As my Mother used to say with one of those special sighs she had perfected to a fine art (which is more than I have – I just sound as if I’m yawning!) it’s been a long day!

     Fliss brought Matt round early as she had to be at the hospital for nine. They were both trying not to cry and both did shed a few tears, and no bad thing either. I stood back and let them have their few minutes together, then Fliss gave him a big hug and both of them were smiling again, though I don’t think tears were far away.

     I offered to help him unpack his things, and he jutted out that little chin of his and said he could do it for himself, hurriedly adding thank you. I didn’t argue. Yes, I can be an old fusspot and I know it, but if all his clothes aren’t neatly folded (and Fliss, who has sense, gets non-iron wherever possible) then it won’t do either him or me any harm.

     It was all done suspiciously quickly, and he said he liked the view from the window, down onto the back garden. Then we sat down on the sofa, and I had a cup of tea, and he had a glass of orange squash, and we each had a slice of Victoria Sponge cake. Of course he’s seen the house before, but time lengthens when you’re a child, and in a sense he was seeing it for the first time, too. “It’s a very old house, Emmet,” he said – not exactly critically, but in a quizzical kind of way. I suspect it wasn’t just the house he was talking about, either. 

     The rather stiff little conversation soon turned more natural which was a good thing of course. But I’m realistic enough to know no lad his age really wants to be on the couch making polite conversation with his great aunt. “Can I go into the garden, please, Emmet?” he asked. Well, you know it’s my default position to point out that it isn’t Can I, it’s May I, but I bit my tongue to stop myself. After all, he had said please!

     “Of course you may,” I said – perhaps he might learn by example!

     As soon as I’d said it, or not long after, I realised that it would have been far more sensible to propose a trip to the park instead – it’s only 5 minutes down the road, which he didn’t know, and much as he admired the view, I was pretty sure it would be more fun playing there!

     He had brought his own football, as I realised soon enough! At least it wasn’t a heavy one, only one of those children have, made out of plastic with hexagon shapes on them. I looked down on him from my own upstairs window and at first thought fondly that he seemed to have an imaginary friend to play with, just as I had at his age. I was probably right about that, but caught up in his game, he trampled all over the dahlias to retrieve the ball. Hatty, I most definitely am NOT a saint and was within a whisker of opening that window and shouting crossly down to him. They’re particularly lovely this year – or they WERE – with their peach and pink little tendrils looking more like something on a coral reef than in a garden. 

     When he came back in, flushed and slightly scruffy, I made myself be laidback about it on the surface. He genuinely hadn’t meant to be naughty. “Matt,” I said, “I know you’ll think I’m a bossy old lady, but could you manage to not trample all over the dahlias?”

     “What’s a dahlia, Emmet?” he asked. It wasn’t cheek, he genuinely didn’t know. I took him out into the garden again and told him what they are – or were, telling myself at the same time that they were hardier than they looked and if they were beyond repair it wasn’t the end of the world. He did seem truly contrite and I sugared the pill by saying, “We only live a few minutes from a park – it would be much more fun to play there, wouldn’t it?” I have to admit I cringed at the sound of my own voice in that laboured, oh, what a good sport Emmet is manner.

     Oh, and he also trampled mud all over the carpet. And though he is deeply missing his mum, it hasn’t affected his appetite (for which I know I should be grateful) and though I will grant him (and Fliss) that he has very good table manners, I am still in awe at the amount of pasta that found its way into one skinny little frame very quickly.

     Well, I’ve bored you enough for one day!

     Yours in love and exhaustion (but knackered is still more expressive!)

     Em

Text message from Fliss to Emmet

Hi, Emmet! Have had those tests and more tiring and tiresome than I thought. They believe in being thorough. Just want to SLEEP. Will talk to Matt tomorrow. Thanks a million times again for having him. Fliss xx

Text message from Emmet to Fliss

Hi yourself. Yes this is Emmet saying the dreaded word “hi”! So sorry it was a bit of an ordeal. Hard to find the right words to say. Matt is doing well, though of course he misses you, and it’s a pleasure to have him. Love as ever, Emmet xx

From: Battyhatty@openweb.co.uk

To: Emilyeveret@silversurf.co.uk

Subject: Poor dahlias, poor you!

Dearest Em

I’m not nearly as “garden-proud” as you, but I feel for you. I know he didn’t mean to be naughty, but sick Mum or not I fancy I might have given him a shouting-at or at any rate a stern talking-to. Pardon sentences ended with propositions. Have to dash as I have choir practice. Sending you good wishes and thoughts and positive vibes and hope that prayers from a heathen will work for the survival of the dahlias!

Love ever, Hatty.

From: Emilyeveret@silversurf.co.uk

To: Battyhatty@openweb.co.uk

Subject: I have been educated!

My Dear Hatty

Not sure yet if your prayers have worked, but Him Up There should at least give you credit for singing far more beautiful music about him than I ever have or ever will. But this has been – well, a long day too, but one that has been oddly touching and oddly instructive. I don’t know why I inserted that “oddly” – there’s nothing odd about it. 

     I went to Aldi with Matt to replenish the supplies he was largely responsible for draining, and he was pretty well-behaved, but he’s no more of a saint than I am (contrary to what you appear to believe!) and I didn’t expect him to stay by my side all the time. He rejoined me at the checkout, and proudly (and I must admit, impressively) insisted on pushing the heavy trolley. Once we were in the car he said, “I mean to wait till we’re home but – I can’t. These are for you!” He handed me a packet of dahlia seeds. A horrible thought crossed my mind though I didn’t want it to. As if guessing what was troubling me he said, “It’s okay, Emmet! I paid for them!” He proudly produced his receipt. And it had made considerable inroads into the pocket money Fliss had given him. But I knew he would be mortally offended if I said I’d reimburse him. He really is a great kid.

     Oh, and I have learnt more about dinosaurs in an afternoon than I previously had in my lifetime, as he showed me his books and his models (his own favourite is the triceratops and he can both pronounce and spell it!) and said “There are thousands more at home!” I knew “thousands” was probably poetic license, but of course I didn’t say anything. And you know what – not only is he an expert but he can explain things beautifully as well, his enthusiasm shining through. I ended up not only listening to be polite but genuinely enthralled. I think we have a future professor of palaeontology on our hands.

     Had to break off, Hatty – phone call from Fliss. And oh, my dear, the best possible news. They’re going to monitor her for the next few months, but it looks as if it’s going to be absolutely fine. She had a word with Matt, too, of course, and afterwards the two of us did a joyful jig round the garden. And you know what? I’d have trampled the dahlias myself and not been unduly bothered.

     Oh – and hope I did the right thing – I told Matt your email address and he thinks it’s splendid. If the two of you meet and he calls you Batty Hatty, it’s a compliment. He may even let you see his triceratops!

     Lots of love

     Em