Open Writing

The earthworks would be the most trouble. They would require a lot of excavation and then the levelling. Afterwards the sides would need to be tiled and grouted, material that was in short supply. The position was good, far enough from the big apricot tree and not in the way of the roots and leaf-fall in the autumn, but getting a bit of shade at midday. The soil was easy, mostly sand with a gravel underlay, it would not take long to dig; there were no problems there.

Then the drought hit and water was at a premium. The only way to fill the pool was with a bucket system. Working in relays, buckets were passed from hand to hand.

In the end, they had to settle for only half-full, but that was good enough in the heat and drought. It was bliss to step into the water, warm and frothy like beer, despite the leaves and twigs, and soon they were jumping and shouting, stamping their feet with pleasure, splashing all the carefully gathered water on to the soil.

The sense of fun this engendered soon led to another more risky undertaking. One member of the party was sent to the secret hideaway with instructions to find and bring back the highly-prized article hidden there. When the member returned, the anointing took place, and one by one, taking it turn-about, they were anointed with the divine stick until finally the faces were thickly covered with the secret mask and they were able to present themselves to their adoring public.

Many were the bowed heads from the followers and admirers who stood around to see them as they walked, heads held high, amongst the people. Many were the smiles of welcome and amazement, as they swept their gaze across the astounded countenances, viewing the transformation they had effected.

“Children … C-h-i-l-d-r-e-n-…

C-H-I-L-D-R-E-N, C-H-I-L-D-R-E-N!

WHERE HAVE YOU GOT TO?

I’ve been looking for you for ages … WHERE ARE YOU?’’

Two bedraggled little figures squelched into the house, Sunday-best shoes sodden and ruined, bright cotton dresses mud-smeared and torn. But worst of all, both faces were smeared with stolen red lipstick, from ear to ear, hairline to jaw, the two tired little girls had painted one another with lipstick until there was not a speck of skin to be seen.

“Whatever have you been DOING? And WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN? You naughty, naughty children!’’

Tears spurting, rubbing muddy fingers into blood-shot eyes, they blurted out their tales of woe.

“Wa, wa, wa, We j-j-j-just w-w-w-wanted to put lipstick on like YOU do Mommy, an’ we wanted to make a swimming-bath so we could have a swim in the hot summer, an’ we, …” The other joined in, words tumbling over in her eagerness to tell the story, “Yes, an we worked SO HARD, we dug, and we dug, and we dug, an’ then we had to carry lotsa buckets of water, an’s fast as we carried the water, it all ran away. So we just jumped in quickly before it was finished …” “An’ then, we thought if we went an stood down by the bus-stop we could show ever-body how pretty we looked with the lipstick on our faces …”

The tired little voices faded away at the stern look on their mother’s face, and uncertainly they edged closer to one another and held hands tightly. Somehow, things weren’t going as well as they had expected. Somehow, their Mummy didn’t seem to think they had been as clever as they thought; and somehow Mummy was very angry at what they had done. In their childish minds they didn’t know why, and just as they didn’t understand the enormity of their crime in her eyes, they didn’t know the reasons for her anger.

“You just wait until your Father gets home!! He’ll give you what for, that’s for sure, you bet he will. Ruining your best shoes, and your dresses – what did you think you were up to? Both of you not even in school yet, and already up to so much mischief! And into the bargain, you have wasted all that water when there’s such a terrible drought, and you have made a fool of me plastering that stupid lipstick all over your faces and showing yourselves off in public … What on EARTH did you think you were doing?”

Seizing a stick the mother turned on the two small girls and struck them lightly on both legs, then , with an exhausted sigh, wiped a tired hand over her brow, filled a basin with warm water and taking up a clean washcloth, soaped it and began wiping them down.

“Never seen such a mess,” she grumbled, poking and probing between their toes and scrubbing behind their knees. And now, taking another swipe at both their bottoms.

“I’ll have to use the table butter to get that lipstick off your faces and the Lord only knows how I’m going to get the stains off those dresses.”

Then, realising that her anger was solving nothing, she shook them both saying, “Och, get along with you now. You both just sit there without moving a muscle while I get your milk and biscuits,” and they knew that they were forgiven.

“And them still so tiny,” she chuckled, pouring two glasses of rich Jersey milk and arranging a plate of golden shortbread biscuits. “Gotta hand it to ‘em, they’ve got initiative and drive, lot more than that father of theirs. Perhaps I should ease up on punishing ‘em, better let ‘em keep their sense of fun, there’ll be many years of hardship afore them, they might as well enjoy their childhood while they can.”