Thursday, October 23, 2008

Legacy


Harold picked up the telephone. “You’ll have to take this one,” said Julie’s voice from the reception desk, “It’s School Services, about Lucy.”

Harold waited for her to connect the call. “Hello?” he said. “What’s happened? Is Lucy all right?”

“Mr. Waterman?” The woman’s voice was tinny. “It’s Mrs. Peterson here, from Laverstone First Starts. Lucy is fine, but we do have a problem with her.”

“Oh?” Harold’s relief regarding her well-being was transmuted into trepidation. “What has she done?” he asked. “She hasn’t disproved the existence of God again?”

“Nothing like that, no.” Mrs. Peterson’s voice was icy. “It’s the cats.”

“Cats?” Harold frowned.

“Yes. One followed her to school this morning and it was joined by several more. It’s almost lunchtime now and I can’t send the children out to play because the playground contains every cat and kitten for miles around.”

“Oh,” said Harold, suddenly deflated. “Her mother liked cats.”

2 comments:

aims said...

Anyone who likes cats is alright with me.

Leatherdykeuk said...

Lucy's an odd child.