How to be a Good Veronica. Michael K Freundt

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      “Yes,” he said and then added rather sheepishly, and which aroused Veronica’s professional interest, “well, it was her mother’s style, actually.”

      “Right,” she said. “Well, when a little boy likes a little girl and wants to talk to her but can’t think of what to say, he says the first thing that comes into his head.”

      “Have you spoken to him about this?”

      “Of course,” she said, and then remembered that although she had intended to talk to him about it, she hadn’t. “He doesn’t remember exactly what he said but his words or tone must’ve been very clumsy and ill-chosen because her reaction was a surprise to him as his words were to her. I think she misunderstood.”

      “That doesn’t explain the bitterness of her tears? It seemed more than a misunderstanding.”

      “Would you believe it?” burst in Mrs. Verlarny, ”not a clean glass, or a dirty one for that matter, in sight. I had to search everywhere for one and then wash it. Here,” she added proffering the glass of water, “I hope this helps.”

      “Thank you, Mrs. Verlarny,” she said as she took the glass,” it’s just what I need.” And as she drank a little she was aware of Ben watching her. She put the glass down, resisted saying ‘I must look a fright’, but ran her hands through her hair, instead.

      “Veronica seems to think our little problem is due to a bout of puppy love,” said Ben.

      “Really?” said Mrs. Verlarny with a note of incredulity and a feeling of ‘how stupid!’

      “Well, yes, actually,” was Veronica’s rather lame reply.

      “Cinnamon was very upset,” said Ben.

      “Maybe the attraction is shared,” suggested Veronica, “and she was more upset by what she mis-heard because she too wanted to talk to him but didn’t know what to say.”

      “Yes, but...” began Ben.

      “And now,” interrupted Veronica, “she’s afraid that the moment’s been lost and the relationship’s ended before it’s began.”

      “Is this your professional opinion?” asked Mrs. Verlarny with an edge of sarcasm that wasn’t lost on Veronica. Mrs. Verlarny continued for Ben’s benefit, “Veronica’s a kind of psychologist.”Kind of ?!

      Ben chose to continue with the point at hand. “But it was Jack who, I think, we all agree, made the first move. He must’ve said or done something to elicit such a bitter reaction.”

      Veronica noted that this was the second time that he had used the word ‘bitter’ so she asked carefully, “Is Cinnamon a little ... sensitive about her plaits?”

      “She wears a single plait and always has, as her mother did and as her mother showed her how, so..” and he gave Mrs. Verlarny a resigned look and then turned to Veronica,”...yes, I can see your point.”

      “Would you like me to talk to her about this?” asked Mrs. Verlarny, a little aggrieved that she seemed now to be in danger of being no longer needed.

      “No!” answered Ben quickly: he obviously thought the offer was presumptuous too. “I’ll talk to her about this; maybe I should’ve done so a little earlier.”

      “It’s just that I thought a woman may....”

      Ben cut her off sharply, “No, no Mrs. Verlarny. I’ll talk to her. We’ve talked a lot about her mother but obviously there’s a little more to cover. And Jack?” he inquired of Veronica with raised eyebrows that disappeared under those floppy curls.

      “I’ll have another talk to him and I’m going to suggest that he try again but this time with the help of a little coaching in ‘schoolyard small talk’”.

      “In my view, I think we should keep them apart for awhile,” offered Mrs. Verlarny keen to still be considered ‘on the team’.

      “Their own embarrassment and reticence may do that for us,” said Veronica without worrying if she was belittling Mrs. Verlarny’s advice. “We know our children, Mrs. Verlarny, and we may miss things from time to time, but we both seem to have a history of parent-child chatting so I think we need to continue this and encourage them to talk; maybe not right away, but soon.”

      Mrs. Verlarny wasn’t prepared to let go so easily, “What about the three of us talking this over?”

      Veronica was pleased when Ben jumped in. “That’s what we’re doing now, isn’t it? Let’s try the parent-child chat first. We don’t want to make this into anything bigger than it really is. The four of us”, he added making it very clear that Mrs. Verlarny wasn’t included, “will handle it. I’m inclined to agree with Veronica’s puppy-love theory. Us big boys get it wrong sometimes too,” he said with a knowing look to Veronica who felt a few cockles of her heart warming up a bit. “And so for little boys it must be a mine field.”

      The meeting ended. It hadn’t been planned, not by Veronica anyway, but Ben walked with her to the school gate. He asked if he could give her a lift home, indicating his car with Cinnamon sitting in the passenger seat. Veronica thought she looked very neat and prim, sitting with a straight back, a buttoned-up collar and that plait, but Veronica politely declined his offer of a lift: she had her own car with her. As they neared the school gate she saw Jack waiting for her and realised that a meeting would ensue and wondered if that was a good thing but her worry was soon allayed.

      “Hi Mum!” said Jack as he watched her approach.

      “Hi darling! How was today?”

      “Fine.”

      “Jack, this is Cinnamon’s father, Mr. Carmody. Ben, this is my son, Jack.”

      “Hello Jack,” said Ben holding out his hand to the boy. Veronica looked over at Ben’s car and saw Cinnamon watching.

      Jack stood looking at the ground.

      “Jack?” asked Veronica with a frown, “Where’s your manners?”

      “Hello, Mr. Carmody,” said Jack still looking at the ground.

      “Jack, Mr. Carmody wants to shake your hand.”

      Jack finally looked up at the man. “I’m sorry I made Cinnamon cry.” The little boy’s face was wrinkled with concern.

      “Thank you Jack,” said Ben with a little surprise in his voice. “I accept your apology and Cinnamon, I’m sure, will too when I tell her.”

      “I...” began Jack not quite knowing how to continue, “I mean...you know...”

      “Yes Jack?” encouraged Ben.

      “I like her hair,” he said in a little boy voice.

      “And so do I, mate. It’s exactly the way her mother wore her hair.”

      “Is she beautiful too?”

      “Jack!” reprimanded Veronica.

      “No СКАЧАТЬ