The Aunts   by Mona Morstein Author's warning: PG for just a touch of sex, otherwise fully G There were few things left in life left for John Steed to fear. A marvel of a man, he had spent over thirty years of his life surviving all manners of terrible travails, from his harrowing experiences in WW II, to his being interned at the Chinese prison camp Nee San, to his dark years as a cold war spy, numerous traumatic injuries, near fatal illnesses such as malaria and typhoid, his triumphing over a couple hundred diabolical masterminds in his own homeland, losing his true love to a cruel whim of fate, and his becoming a father in his 50s. Through all the difficult times, Steed had not only come out very much alive, but he had also thrived, personally, financially, and in his specialized field of intelligence. At 57 years old, he was still tall with superb posture; he stood straight, lean, and broad-shouldered. His strength was undimmed, nor was his eyesight, his hairline, his wits, his confidence, his genial nature, or his evident sexuality. He was happily married, father of a soon to be hellion six year old daughter, and a tiny and nearly angelic four year old son. He was the Head of the Ministry, the most respected and well-run organization in the whole of British Intelligence, and thus had access to computers and analysts and the best of British agents to deal with any risk threatening the peace and security of Britain. Combining those resources with his own slightly paranormal sense of danger and the household bodyguard he had finally acquiesced could walk the perimeter of his stately mansion home in Hertfordshire, there was little Steed worried about, and even less he feared. Thus, on the first warm, sunny Saturday in late June, an energetic release from all the drizzling rains of spring, it wasn't surprising that by mid-morning Steed was outside with his family around him, leading a couple of saddled horses out from their stalls, both the animals and their owner biting at the chomp to prance around the green and verdant countryside. There was a palpable sense of peace and happiness among the four Steeds, as the chirping birds and hopping rabbits and the cloudless blue sky joined in with them in their contentment. Thus the startling incongruity of a car screeching down the long gravel driveway leading to their house caught them all by surprise, including the bodyguard, who appeared like a phantom from the woods that stood between the front of Steed's home and the country road that he took each day to the Ministry's headquarters in London. The grey Volvo came to a sliding halt fifty feet from the Steeds, at the edge of the wide curving driveway. The horses whinnied and danced a bit but Steed's soothing "Ssh. Ssh. It's alright," and a few gentle pats on their haunches calmed the well-trained horses down. They all recognized the car and its well known inhabitant leapt out of it much more spritely than her 74 years should have allowed, as the slam of the car door behind her reverberated through the silent air. "For god's sake, John! What are you doing here? Haven't you heard?" beloved Auntie Greta yelled, the usual tightly wrapped grey bun on her head spraying itself out in wild ripples as if a pebble had been tossed into the middle of it. "What kind of incompetent intelligence organization do you work for, anyway?" Steed had faced many more menacingly people than a nearly hysterical aunt. He stood there composed and calm. "Hello, Aunt Greta. Lovely to see you again." Aunt Greta came to the Steeds fairly regularly, and it had only been a little over two weeks ago since she had spent a very pleasant day with them. "Lovely to see you again!" Eddie repeated, smiling widely at her. "Oh, skip the stupid social graces, John!" Realizing her gaff regarding Eddie's input she glanced down at him and quickly said, "Lovely to see you, too, dear Eddie. Emma. Elly." Then she returned her glaring look at Steed. "You've got to pack and get out of here! Now! Get a move on! There's not much time!" Steed patted the horses again and then shook his head casually at the approaching bodyguard, who nodded and returned to his patrolling of the perimeter. "But, I don't want to pack and go. Anywhere. I want to ride my horses with my family." Greta came to within two feet of Steed. "John, The Two Of Them have escaped!" Emma Steed had started off her acquaintance with her husband under the most dangerous of activities-being his secret agent colleague. She had been with him facing the most evil and twisted of men and their minions and their inventions, and had never ever seen his face go as pale with shock and fear as it did at that moment. She suddenly grew terribly afraid herself and drew her children closer to her. "Steed?" she asked. "What's going on? Who are these two people?" Not meaning to, Steed ignored his wife while speaking to Greta, in his surprise not even having heard her question. "The Two of Them have escaped? But, why? How? When?" Greta spoke quickly. "You know lately I go visit them twice a month. I'm the only one they'll allow to see them. I went there two weeks ago and everything seemed fine. Well, as fine as it can be with The Two of Them. But, at least they showed no inclination to leave the Elder Resort. Today I arrived early and was told that they must have left after breakfast, just snuck off the grounds. Essentially escaped! 'We shall prevail in Hertfordshire!' they wrote in a note stuck to a lamp in their sitting room." "Hertfordshire!" "Yes, and you're the only one who lives here. Most all of us are still in Berkshire or London." "Did they have a car?" "No, but we know how skillful they are at hitchhiking. Even all the way from Norfolk." Steed's eyes widened, then he seemed to settle down perceptibly. "Wait, there's no way for them to know my address. Even on our invitations to come for the wedding reception or to see our babies, I never gave them the address, and they never RSVP'd wishing to be picked up, blind-folded, and brought here." "Blind-folded?" Emma asked. Steed nodded seriously. "One must take certain precautions in life." Emma could summon forth no more of a response then to blink, several times, repeatedly. Were friends or family of Steed's diabolical masterminds? Greta hemmed and hawed and shuffled her feet about. "Well, John, haha!, you know, I may have told them where you live once…or twice…" All signs of settling down immediately disappeared. "You did what? Why didn't you just shoot me in the head, instead?" "Awfully sorry…" Greta mumbled, obviously contrite. Emma, not used to being left out of a conversation that seemed to be causing such concern in her husband, said, more forcefully, "One of you tell me what's going on right now." "Mummy wants to know what's going on," Eddie said. "Does this mean we can't ride the horses, Daddy?" Elly asked. Suddenly another car pulled onto Steed's driveway and slowly motored down to where the five of them were standing. It was an old Peugeot, dented and scraped and driven by a young man with an equally young woman besides him in the front seat. It came to a halt fight next to Greta's vehicle. At the exact same moment both back seat doors opened and simultaneously on each side, one old lady leg popped out of the car, followed, as if they had synchronized their actions, with a hand on the top of the car, a grunt of effort and a complete debarking from the car to a standing position with a smoothing of their respective dresses and placing little carryalls and handbags on their shoulders. The one on the left then pulled out two exactly similar pieces of luggage. The one with the luggage was wearing a white cloth hat and the other had large rings on a few of her fingers. Emma noticed both Greta and her husband staring blankly at the two women. Were they the threat? Why, they looked like twin sisters, and had to be at least 75 years old. Yet, there was Greta and Steed whispering "Oh, no…" and Steed did nothing to stop the horses from wandering away to find some succulent grass to eat. The car drove away to the waving thanks of the women who then directed their full attention to looking around at the house, the scenery, and the Steeds. "So," one of them said, "this is the tatty old shack you now call home?" The "tatty old shack" was an immense and gorgeous three story Georgian mansion that more than once had been high-lighted in English architectural journals. "I didn't know it was tatty, Mummy," Eddie whispered to Emma. "It's not, ssh." Emma watched her husband close his eyes for a couple of seconds as he got his emotions under control; he opened them with a slight smile softening his face. "Auntie Patricia, Auntie Margaret, how lovely to see you, again." Patricia walked up to Steed and in the most outrageous move Emma had even seen anyone do to Steed, she whapped the side of his thickly haired skull with the cotton hat she had been wearing on her head. "Don't lie, John. Very unbecoming." Eddie's mouth dropped open and he pointed at his aunt. "She hit Daddy with her hat!" Steed smoothed his hair back into place. Emma was sure that if Auntie Patricia had been any other person on earth, she would have had a broken jaw by now. "What brings you here?" he asked. "We're moving in," Patricia declared, replacing the hat on a slant on her head not unlike how her nephew wore his bowlers. "For a fortnight." "Moving in?!" Steed choked out. "I'm Emma, his wife," Emma said, holding out her hand in a gesture of formal welcome. "Yes, John's little married hussy. We know," Margaret said. If Margaret had been any other person on earth she would have had a broken jaw by now. As it was, Emma controlled her physical reaction and snapped, "How dare you--!" Steed cut in putting his hand on his wife's arm. "-think that you can just come here and move in? I don't think that's going to work for us." "Well, make it work," Patricia said. "Surely you've got two guest rooms in that self-indulgent monstrosity of yours," she added, nodding towards the house. Before either Steed or Emma contain themselves to make a civil response, Eddie chimed in, smiling innocently as always. "What's a monstery?" Patricia and Margaret squinted through their wire frame glasses way down their tall bodies at the little boy looking up to them. "Who are you?" Margaret asked. "I'm Eddie!" "You are extraordinarily tiny. Are you a midget?" Patricia asked. "I don't know. What's a midget?" Eddie replied. "A midget is a very tiny person." "Then I guess I'm a midget. I am a very tiny person." Eddie was indeed short for his age and very thin. He was also, with his soft auburn hair, cleft chin, wide, grey eyes and constant look of amazement and joy, completely and utterly adorable. Elly stepped up now into the conversation. "Eddie isn't a midget. He's a little boy." Margaret said, "I don't believe little boys are ever that small." "Well, Eddie is. He hasn't grown yet. Unlike me. I'm tall for my age." And she was. Thin herself, but tall, with spider like arms and legs, and Steed's thick head of curly, dark brown hair that she wore a little down passed her ears, like her mother, whose high cheekbones and spirit she had clearly inherited. Patricia asked, "Are you two years old?" "I'm six!" "Well, you aren't that tall for a six year old. You would, however, be very tall for a two year old." "Oh, she'd be very tall indeed for a two year old," Margaret agreed. "She's certainly taller than a six year old cat," Patricia said. Then she turned back to Eddie. "Little midget boy, come with me over to my luggage. I visit your family bearing gifts." "You brought me a present?" Eddie asked, his eyes opening even wider, almost covering half his face. "Brilliant!" He ran after his aunts to their luggage. "You too, tall cat girl," Margaret said over her shoulder. Elly was stunned, a rare event, and when she recovered, the offer of a gift overcame her as yet developing six year old ego, and she darted after her aunts and brother. Steed and Emma both raised a pointed finger at the retreating figures, but then gave up. Emma instead decided to glare at Steed, who was doing essentially the same thing at Greta. "Greta, why are they here? Why pick on me? You know the havoc they cause wherever they go. That's why we put them in the Norfolk Elder Resort to begin with." "Yes, John, but you know they are there voluntarily. They can leave whenever they wish. And they do seem to have some sort of affection for you. Remember when they kept visiting you in your flat at 5 Westminster Mews? Found out that address from Emma's cousin's aunt at the Resort." "My cousin's aunt at the Resort? None of my cousin's aunts were at a Resort in Norfolk," Emma said, confused. Steed cast an exasperated glance at Aunt Greta as she cleared her throat and explained, "Ah, well, that was another Emma entirely, you see…before you…er…" Another woman in Steed's endless history of women. Emma rolled her eyes, giving Steed the opportunity to get the conversation over this awkward hurdle and back on track. "Do I remember?" he said. "Yes, I remember! It was very annoying. Once every several months they'd be knocking at my door. I'd crack it open, see it was them, beg them to leave, but they'd barge pass me and make themselves completely at home. In fact, their knowing my address there was the main reason I moved into 3 Stable Mews. Without telling them, mind you." Emma said, "I didn't know that." He nodded at her. "That got them out of my hair for some years." "They could have merely looked in the phone book." "The phone book? They've never do something as ordinary as that! Heaven forbid! That's one reason we've all had some peace, at times, from them. Sort of a family arrangement, a Steed law, actually, no one gives The Two of Them another's address. Isn't that right, auntie?" He gave Greta a withering look. "Awfully sorry…," she repeated with another foot shuffle. "I'm surprised I never met them, when they were visiting you so often," Emma said, thoughtfully. "After all, we did spend a considerable amount of time together." Steed's eyes faded into past pleasurable memories, "Yes, we did, I recall… a lovely mixture of time spent at work and at…blissful play…no children about… no… interruptions…" A silly grin curved his mouth upwards. "Halloa! John!" Greta chastised, shaking his arm. "Do focus on the crisis here." He flipped back to attention. "Even when they haven't been with me, they've been dreadfully aggravating to me. Greta, do you realize four years ago the amount of paperwork I had to fill out to keep them both out of gaol? Do you understand the currying of favors I had to call in with various Scotland Yard types?" "Well, they don't seem that interested in wandering around breaking into people's houses this time." Emma cut into the conversation, "Breaking into people's houses?" Steed explained, "Yes, they broke into empty homes, spotlessly cleaned them, then cooked dinner for the inhabitants to eat upon coming home, by which time The Two of Them had departed. They were caught after they fell asleep in front of someone's telly one night, by mistake, after having generously sampled the home-owner's Tokay." "Your aunts are all so weird," Emma said, watching them pull some items out of their carryall luggage while an eager Eddie and a suspicious Elly stood nearby. She then turned back and stared at Greta. "Don't look at me! They're from his father's side!" Greta grumbled defensively, crossing her arms over her floral dress. The three adults sighed and walked over to the aunts and the children. "Have they always been like this?" Emma asked. Greta answered, "Always. Twin sisters. Never married. Sympathetic minds. Eccentric, to say the least." Emma said sarcastically, "Harrumph! Steeds. Surprise!" Now both Greta and Steed stared at her. "I still can't believe I never ran into them at your flat," she mused. "Oh, boy! Candy!" Eddie said, grabbing the candy bars Patricia handed to him, as he took a bite out of the unwrapped one in his hand. To Elly they gave a £5 note. "I say, Aunties, we don't give our children candy or money without good cause," Steed said. "That's smart. Candy rots their teeth, you know. And giving them money willy-nilly teaches them to be lazy and spoiled." To which they gave Eddie another candy bar which he stuffed into his already bulging pockets, and gave Elly another £5 note. Emma chimed in, "Children, that's enough. Get away from your aunts." She almost added, "slowly, cautiously, don't take your eyes off of them" but held her tongue, not necessarily the easiest thing for Emma to do. "Look, aunties, I appreciate the visit, but-" Steed said. "But, take our luggage inside. Hitchhiking is tiring. We need a rest," Margaret said, yawning for emphasis. "Oh, yes, and I'd like a warm bath," Patricia added. "They'd like a bath and a rest, Daddy," Eddie repeated, munching on a mouthful of chocolate, apparently having first smeared half of it all over his face. "I'm sorry, but, you are not staying here," Steed said, hands on his hips. "That's it. Final." "We're not?" "No." "That's final?" "Final." The two aunts looked at each other and then burst into sobbing, fooling no one but Eddie and Elly as they removed handkerchiefs from their dress sleeves and began dabbing at their tearless eyes. "You don't love us. You never have. We always tried to be the best aunts we could, but you never liked us. Even though we gave you such good guidance that one time. You do remember that, don't you John? And now, now, in our time of need, you shunt us away into the cold, dark world," they wailed, one feeding off the other, as they hugged each other for comfort. "Goodness, Aunties, really. What a scene!" Steed said. "Patricia, Margaret! Shameful! Stop this charade!" Greta criticized. The sobbing grew louder, nearing the stage of howling. The adults rolled their eyes to high heaven, but the children were very upset, the goal of the aunts' ruse. Holding their presents tightly in their hands they implored their parents to allow their aunts to stay. "Mummy, Daddy, don't make them cry. Don't make them cry. We want them to stay. Can't they stay, please?" at which point the over-sensitive Eddie burst into real tears himself, the salty water spreading chocolate down over his chin. Violence, Steed understood. Spies, Steed understood. Evil scientists, Steed understood. The Cold War, Steed understood. His father's sisters; he had no clue. They came like a plague, causing nothing but problems. They were the scourge of the family and hardly had anything to with their relatives, except cause endless havoc and chaos when they showed up at someone's house. Invited to all celebrations they rarely attended any; they had not come to Steed's marriage to Emma, nor visited his children after receiving their birth notices. It was incomprehensible to him that suddenly, out of the blue, they had appeared like the ghosts of problems past to demand living space in his home, among his family. If only Greta had showed up earlier; then he could have flown with his family to Europe or better, Australia, avoiding all contact with them. But, no, here they were, their thin shoulders shaking in the effort of faking their despair. He stood there, running scenarios through his head of how he could send his aunts away but they all came back to showing his children the worst aspects of him, the most uncompromising, the most callous, the most insensitive. That was plainly unacceptable to him and since they had already mentioned they had plans to only stay a fortnight, he felt compelled to give in. Besides, he did indeed owe them for that one little bit of advice that had given him years ago…The ranting Emma would descend upon him later, when they were alone, he would deal with then. "Alright, you two can stay," he said, bracing himself for the smack to his ankle he knew Emma was going to apply with her foot, and he was right. "For a fortnight, no longer." "Yay!" the kids called out. "That's very kind of you, John," Margaret said, miraculously composing herself and putting away her dry hankie. "It's been so long since we've seen you. My, look at how you've grown." They eyed Steed top to bottom like he was on sale and they wanted to make sure he was worth their money. Steed fidgeted uncomfortably, maintaining his smile nonetheless. "Yes, yes, a fine specimen of a Steed man. A fine specimen. Lovely riding outfit. Lovely boots. I see your son matches your attire. I imagine he'll grow up drinking too much alcohol, too," Patricia said. "Now, see here--!" Steed exclaimed. "Goodness, John, relax. She wasn't saying he'd wind up a drunkard in a poor house," Margaret somewhat clarified. "Now, come and give your aunties a little kiss." If Auntie Margaret has asked Steed to pound his chest and grunt like a gorilla he could not have found it more off-putting. His whole association with his aunties had basically been one long nightmare. Family or not, kissing his aunts urged a certain sense of rebellion in Steed birthed from years of having to deal with their decision to not participate in family celebrations, their outrageous oddity, and their blatant obnoxiousness. Besides, Steed thought, striving for justification for his reticence, English gentlemen didn't go around kissing people right and left, even relatives. It was too expressive, too emotional. Then Steed once more recalled that one piece of advice, that life-changing piece of advice that if he hadn't followed would not have led to the family he now relished and had now been invaded by his infamous aunts. Steed was off two minds regarding the requested display of affection and in a rare moment of not being capable of making a quick and vital decision, there was a few seconds stand-off as Steed stood riveted in place. "Daddy, go and give your aunties a little kiss," Eddie said, instructing his father as he had been instructed to do at innumerable parties with innumerable relatives. That was when Steed realized that good parenting can sometimes backfire with appalling consequences. "That's right, midget boy, you tell him the proper thing to do." Steed had had to master himself in dangerous situations with criminals, spies, and evil masterminds. He had had to master himself to not fall apart when Emma had left his apartment the day she went back to her husband. He had had to master himself to not hate Beresford, Prendergast, Crayford and all the other people who had launched nasty plans against him or the people he loved. Realizing that as a gentleman he had no choice but to obey the wishes of his elderly aunts he mastered himself once more, and leaned forward to kiss Maggie on her cheek. Maggie in return gave him a short little kiss on his forehead that was entirely bearable. Steed rued his initial antagonism toward this display of affection; he had apparently unjustly and hastily allowed immature emotions to over-shadow his familiar obligations. He leaned next towards Patty. Exhibiting snake-like speed, she grabbed his cheeks, and planted a solid kiss right on his lips, lingering in the intimate gesture many seconds longer than aunt and nephew by any standards were required or allowed to do. His eyes opened wide, just as Emma's narrowed to threatening slits. Steed put his hands up on her torso to push her away and realized without too much effort he could probably dislocate Patricia's 75 year old shoulders, so he suffered in silence, although his children whooped with the fun of it all. It was not fun for Steed. When Patricia finally broke the kiss, the good-natured, calm and gentle demeanor of Steed was cracking at the edges like an egg, ready to give birth to his infamous anger. That would be unhelpful and very poisonous for his children to view, so withdrawing into his most implacable persona, Steed took the handkerchief Greta offered him as she murmured, "Disgusting" and he wiped the glossy make-up off his lips, handing the cloth back her when he was done. Elly observed, "Gee, only Mummy usually kisses him like that." "Mummy is aware of that," Emma snarled, her arms crossing in front of her body, never a good sign. "I kiss him lightly, Daddy says, like a butterfly!" Eddie said. "And no lipstick! That's just for girls!" "You're wearing chocolate lipstick, little midget," Margaret said, licking her handkerchief as she cleaned his giggling face. "Stop calling him a midget!" Emma growled. "My goodness me, John, is she always this bossy? Must be very hard to get along with." Patricia chimed in, "I'm surprised you even settled down with her. We've heard you always had so many women to choose from. At least a few others must have been more congenial." "One would think so, wouldn't one, Maggie." "Yes, one would, Patty." "And more buxom. Like Helen Hendrickson. Remember when John was caressing her?" "Oh, yes, indeed. She was much more buxom. Emma's riding outfit does her femininity no credit at all." "Indeed, not at all." "What's buxom mean?" Eddie began. "Never mind, Eddie. It's not important," Greta said quickly. "Do you like my riding outfit?" Elly asked, holding her arms out to her sides, and twirling around in a circle. "Very fashionable, tall cat girl." "Yes, you'll one day soar over the hedges like Mercury with wings on his feet." "Is Elly buxom?" Eddie asked. "Never mind, Eddie!" Greta and Emma said, forcefully, their teeth clenched together. Never one for headaches, Steed had a pounding one, as if the front of his brain, the inhibitive and civilized part that kept his instinct to kill in check, was having a tantrum and throwing itself against the inside of his skull. He rubbed his forehead, lamenting the ruin of a beautiful spring day. It had been a long time since he had wondered if the entire universe was against him, but that was the feeling that filled him at that moment. Rubbing his forehead, he dared a look at his wife, and her puffed cheeks were flushing so deeply a rather attractive dusky color suffused the skin on her face. "Now, tote our luggage inside, John. We're too delicate to do it ourselves." "Oh, yes, we're very delicate," Patricia agreed. "See how thin our old wrists are?" Considering the full nelson neck lock Patty had just held Steed in, he did not in anyway believe that. Yet, a promise was a promise and so he lifted up their luggage, which to his dismay, each weighed what seemed to be 25 pounds. The aunts then draped their long strapped carry-alls around his neck, adding another total ten pounds to his load. "Erf!" was his only comment as they pushed him forward into a slow plodding gait. "Run along, John. Don't dawdle. Follow your father, midget boy and tall cat girl," Maggie said. "My name is Elly!" "Oh, hush. Have a sense of humor. Be obedient," Patty added. "I'll thank you to keep your nose out of my children's business," Emma said, finally once more able to speak without it consisting of a long string of vitriolic curses. "And to call them by their Christian names." Patty bowed low, "As you wish, Bossy Wife." Emma opened her mouth and curled her fingers in hate as she prepared to launch into a loud and angry spewing of those same vitriolic curses, well aware of the counseling her children would probably need as a result of seeing their Mummy go hurtling off the deep end. "Emma, give it up. Please," Steed huffed, instinctively sensing her ire, and desperate to pull her out of her compulsion to rant like a mad-woman. "Let's just go inside." Emma closed her mouth, temporarily, visibly shaking with the tension that caused in her. "But, aren't we going to ride the horses?" Elly asked, as she followed her grunting father, her fuming mother, and her chocolate eating skipping brother, back to the house. "Later," gasped Steed. "We'll ride later." Emma began whispering in Steed's ear, very pointedly and continuously doing so the whole long walk back to their front door. Steed's simple words of "Yes; I know; You're right; I'm sorry;" had no apparent affect on Emma's temper or loquaciousness, as both remained unabated. "Patricia, Margaret, may I speak to you both for a moment?" Greta asked as the aunties fell in at the end of the family line. Patricia turned back to Greta. "No." "No," Margaret added, not even deigning to give Greta eye contact. Greta's mouth opened wide. "I say!" "I say, indeed!" Patricia agreed as she linked arms with her sister and went into the house. Chapter Two Once in the house, if a hurricane had followed them in, there couldn't have been more chaos. They walked through the large entrance hallway into the luxuriously decorated area between the hallway and the staircase going up to the second and third stories of the spacious home. With another grunt, Steed plopped the luggage down heavily onto the white floor, removing the carryalls one at a time, trying to not muss his hair as he lifted the straps over his head. Emma still continued her complaints as Steed wiped his face with a handkerchief taken from his riding trousers pocket. Emma stood with her hands firmly planted on her hips. "Just how much paperwork would you have to fill out to keep me out of gaol if I decided to murder the two of them?" "You're going to murder them?" Elly asked. "How? Guns? Knife? Poison? Car accident? Blunt object?" Poking dead birds with sticks, asking about various operations relatives' had experienced, and now, listing off efficacious ways to kill someone, their precocious child certainly did have a morbid curiosity. "Let's tickle them to death!" Eddie chimed in, playing with his sticky, chocolate fingers. "There will be no murder in this household," Steed said, firmly. "I abhor violence." He looked at Emma. "About enough paperwork to fill a second Bodleian Library." "That's not that much…" Emma said. "Emma, kids, look, my aunts are not the easiest people to be around. But, we shall just have to put up with them for the next fortnight. I gave my word and that's that." "I'll put up with them! I like them!" Eddie said. "Oh, Eddie, look at your hands and face. Let's clean them off. Come to the bathroom with me." She held her finger up to Steed. "You I'll talk more to later." Emma and Eddie went to the bathroom, Eddie licking his fingers as he walked. "Daddy, but when are we going to ride the horses?" Elly moped. "Later, we'll ride later. I have to first get your aunts settled in." That reminded him he had to track those two horses down before they ate their way across the countryside. "I want to ride right now!" Elly yelled, stamping her feet. Oh, no, please, not a temper tantrum, Steed sighed. Elly was, for all her strong-willed straight-forwardness, usually a well-behaved and thoughtful child. She watched over her younger brother carefully, helping him learn to ride his bicycle and teaching him the names of flowers she had been taught. She was a generous person who easily shared her toys with her friends. Yet, she had been having more and more tantrums in the last couple of months. Suddenly she had had the revelation that she was the daughter of two very wealthy parents, and had therefore come to the conclusion that she should be able to buy whatever she wanted and do whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted to. It was rather disagreeable to Steed. "Elly, don't think that if you whine loudly you shall have any more success in going riding now." "I want to ride now! Marilyn has her own horse! She can ride whenever she wants to!" Marilyn Petherbridge, the undisputed most obnoxious six year old in all Hertfordshire. Twisted her compliant parents around her plump and demanding fingers. Steed lamented the day that Elly had met Marilyn at their public school. "Why don't you go up to your bedroom now, instead." "No!" Steed was in no mood for a democratic debate over the issue. Temper tantrums were difficult for him to deal with-although his patience threshold and generally mild and easy-going demeanor was oftentimes considered saintly, he was also used to everyone from Prime Ministers to Admirals to any and all Ministry employee doing his immediate bidding. He never felt comfortable being angry; it was an emotion that throughout his life had been associated with causing other people real and occasionally fatal pain. This was where Emma was the more valuable parent. Yet, Steed knew he had to persevere somehow. Lowering his eyebrows into their most intimidating position, he rumbled, "Now, young lady, up to your bedroom and stay there until you can control yourself." Elly glanced up at her towering father, saw his mien and looked away, keeping her face set with a solid mask of rebellion. "No," she stated, this time softly. "No?" Auntie Margaret said, in the hallway with Steed's other two aunts. "Cat girl! You must listen to your father at all times, even if I, for example, don't. But, that is the prerogative of being old and decrepit. You are young. You must obey. So, upstairs we go." And before Elly or Steed could say anything, Margaret grabbed the girl by her arm and began dragging her up the stairs, much to Elly's screaming discontent. Somehow over the child's cries, Margaret asked, "Which room is hers, John?" Steed, feeling like his whole world was spinning entirely out of control, answered, "Second floor, down the hallway to the left. Room full of books, a doll house, and a collection of horses." Patricia watched the whole event. "Can't handle your children already? They'll turn into criminals, if you don't do something." "I can handle them. Elly is just in a temperamental phase." "Isn't that what they said of Stalin?" Free of chocolate all over him, Eddie and Emma came back into the room. Eddie suddenly dashed to Steed and grabbed hold of his leg. Smiling up at his father, his eyes sparkling, he said out of the blue, "I love you, Daddy." Steed's heart melted as he picked Eddie up and kissed the top of his head. "Auntie Patty says you're going to turn into a criminal." Emma's flashed a vicious look at Patty. "But, I want to be a asternaut! Elly can be a crimnal." Greta said, "Neither of you shall be a criminal. Don't listen to anything Aunt Patty says, Eddie." "I love you, Eddie," Patricia said, kissing the little lad's cheek. "Can I listen to that?" Eddie asked. "Very droll, Patricia," Greta said. "Where's Elly?" Emma asked. Steed explained, "She had another tantrum, about wanting to ride the horses now. Maggie, er, took her upstairs to her room." "Maggie did?" "Yes, it was quite helpful, actually." "I don't need help from her in raising my children." "Now, Emma-" "Really, John, what were you thinking, marrying her?" Patricia asked, flicking her chin towards Emma. "You had so many other women to choose from. If I had been you-" "Excuse me," Emma cut in. "But in my house, in which you are a guest, I do not particularly care for you to discuss Steed's previous relationships. That is all long in the past. And both of us prefer to keep it that way." She looked at Steed out of the corner of her eye and he nodded his head forcefully in agreement. Eddie nodded his head, too. "Let's keep it that way," Eddie said. "Do you repeat everything, midget boy?" Patricia asked. "Yes, everything!" he said. "I see," she said, as she took to walking about the house, studying the layout, the furniture, and the knick knacks. She began a running commentary of the things she stopped in front of mostly to herself, "Nice, nice, pretty, ugly, should be closer to the wall, lovely lamp, picture is crooked…" Then, over her shoulder she added, "Don't forget to take our luggage to our bedrooms. We're both so fragile." Steed put Eddie gently back on the ground. "I'll go do that, and then maybe they'll take a nap and we can ride, then." Margaret appeared at the top of the stairs. "Quite the spoiled little girl you've got there, John. Perhaps sending her to some third world country where she has to pick through the trash to survive would be a good thing." "That's a lovely idea, Maggie," Patricia agreed. "Come and look at this leather chair. Don't you think the color is too dark for this room?" Margaret walked to her sister and they were heard gabbing away about the house. Steed picked up one piece of luggage and the carryall and took it upstairs, Emma, once again, following him upstairs with her comments, some of them quite pointed, Eddie staying with Greta, who cleaned out his pockets of the chocolate bars to make sure the child didn't ruin his appetite the whole day. "Emma, please, give it a rest," Steed implored to no avail. Steed returned downstairs alone and carried up the other set. Greta raised her eyebrows questioning him silently and he shook his head silently in return. Steed had survived World War II. He had survived the prison Nee San. He had survived lurking in the back alleys of the Cold War. He had survived all manners of diabolical masterminds and their creations-he had dispensed with cybernauts three times, duplicates once, radio power, shrinking machines…he was a legend of survival in the Ministry. He seriously doubted he would survive the next two weeks. Or whether, with Emma's ire rising, his aunts would. And, on top of it all, he couldn't figure out why, after so many years, his reclusive aunts had decided to come visit him in the first place. After the luggage was placed in the room each aunt was assigned to, and bathroom towels laid out, Steed went out and caught the horses, putting them back in the stable. Then, Steed and Emma prepared themselves to speak to their daughter. They agreed completely on the problem and how to address it, and so went to Elly's room to talk with her. Eddie was playing with Greta; they had given the children's nanny the day off on the assumption that the family would be together riding all day long. The Two of Them kept up investigating the house and all the Steed's belongings, clucking away like chickens in a barnyard. Her parents came into Elly's room, full of horses of all breeds and sizes standing on numerous shelves and her little desk. In the corner was a large miniature house, divided into various rooms Elly was slowly filling with tiny furniture. There were books piled neatly in between the horses on her shelves, as she was an avid reader and quite ahead of children her age in her reading capabilities. Elly sat on her bed, her knees held up to her chest, her chin resting on her knees. Her frown sunk the sides of her mouth down until they seemed to rest on her pink and green floral bedspread. Her reddened eyes and wet face were evidence of previous tears that were no longer flowing, but certainly could at any moment. Steed stood back a little as Emma sat on the bed. Elly was like a petulant statue, only her eyes flickering to and away from them alerting her parents that she even knew they had entered her spacious bedroom. Emma spoke first, "Elly, your father told me that you had a little tantrum downstairs. Whilst we understand that you were very disappointed in not being able to go riding this morning, as we all were, life sometimes throws us off the course we had plotted for ourselves. The arrival of your father's aunts, your great aunts, is notable, as they are elderly and don't get out much. You might never see them again. I'm sure you can understand that we had to place them before ourselves." Silence. "We hope to ride later today, but in the meantime, you must realize that losing your temper is not a proper method of expressing yourself. You shall achieve nothing by stamping your feet and being rebellious." Elly came to life with a vengeance. "But, Mummy, Daddy, Greta, and Eddie could have cared for his aunts whilst you and I went riding. I could have seen my aunties later. It's been so rainy and drizzly that I really wanted to ride today. Marilyn Petherbridge-" Emma cut in, "-We don't care anything about Marilyn, her horses, or what her parents like her do. We are your parents and we do things differently. You shall have to adapt to that." "But, we have more money than the Petheridges, everyone says so, but Marilyn has a horse already! And she can ride whenever she wants." "Who has what money is none of your business. What Marilyn can do is none of your business. And the more you push us and act inappropriately, the less you shall achieve your goals." "But--!" Steed spoke. "No buts." Elly threw an imploring look at him. "But, Daddy--!" Steed took a step closer and ordered, "No buts." Elly looked at her parents' resolute faces and burst into tears again, smacking her hands and feet on her bed. "It's not fair! It's not fair!" "Right then," Steed said. "I don't want you to leave your room until you have stopped crying and you can say you are sorry to both of us for acting like this. It's deplorable. We shan't put up with it." Emma stood up off the bed and then leaned over and kissed Elly's head. "We do love you, Elly, but this behavior must change." They left their daughter's room, inwardly cringing at the wailing they could hear behind the closed door. "That's your girl," Steed sighed. "Taking right after you. Notice how continually sweet and delightful my son is, though." "Very funny," Emma said, then throwing up her arms she began pacing about the wide carpeted hallway. "What a day! I really do feel like strangling something or someone." "Well, you could just kiss me, instead," Steed said, "hugging me extra hard." Emma saw her husband standing casually, hands in trouser pockets, leaning against the wall, one leg crossed in front of the other. He was, indeed, the proverbial rock in their relationship. Good old steady Steed, she had called him more than once during their Ministry partnership, and as a rainbow never changed its colors, neither did Steed change his. His mellow personality consistently bobbed to the surface as if it was a piece of wood in an ocean of aggravation. She was, meanwhile, the fire in their marital partnership. Crossing her arms in front of her, Emma answered, "That's all you ever think about." He grinned, nodding, refusing to take offense. "It's true." She stuck to her pose of intransigence, more out of habit then of actually feeling that upset with her husband. "Why should I grant you a kiss? After the way you've ruined the day? And Elly's mood. And forcing us to spend two more weeks dealing with Them!" Steed shrugged, taking the blame. "A kiss could change bad to better." "For a second!" "For a long, passionate minute," he corrected, his ever malleable eyes now transforming into outlets of sheer lust that radiated across the wide hallway matching Emma's fire for heated intensity. His evident yearning for her won the battle, as it always did, because surrendering to him always wound up feeling so good. Her flame happily retreated, settling down into a glow that warmed certain areas of her body. "Well…you are an awfully good kisser…" "A lot of that has to do with the kissee," he said, standing up straight and sliding into his smooth, sexy gait as he neared her, his broad shoulders and strong arms ready to encompass her, and she was perfectly willing to submit to his embrace, his touch, his lust. Arms were raised and lips were loosened as Eddie ran into the hallway, "Mummy, Daddy, Auntie Maggie has fainted! And she hit her head! And she's bleeding! Auntie Greta says to come right away." He took a breath. "You must come right away!" Steed stopped a foot from his wife, sighing as his arms fell to his sides. "We'll be right there, Eddie. Go and tell them." "I'll go and tell them!" Eddie repeated and dashed back downstairs. Emma affected an American Southern accent, waving an invisible fan in front of her face. "I do declare I feel the vapors coming on. I feel so weak, so fragile. My nephew shall have to take care of me hand and foot, now." "Emma, that's not fair. She is 75. Something indeed may be wrong with her health." Steed took long strides to the stairway, and Emma rushed to catch up; they both quickly descended the long flight of stairs. "Perhaps. But, you must admit it could just be a ruse to entangle you more within their wiles." It was a big house but they followed the trail of disarrayed knick knacks to Auntie Patricia, after a sudden halt to survey the damage. A great deal of Steed and Emma's decorative vases, little pieces of artwork, photos in frames, trophies, and the like had all been moved around from their original positioning to some distant place. An end table vase was on the mantelpiece; the pictures of Steed's female partners were moved to a coffee table; a crystal bowl was now placed on a shelf; and so on with the vast majority of their moveable belongings. "Steed, they've rearranged everything," Emma gasped, flabbergasted, pointing right and left, while her husband silently swallowed his more irritated comment. "My goodness me, they work quickly," Steed said, lamely, in his distress. Both he and his wife prided themselves in their superb sense of décor, and both, also, enjoyed the comfort from their busy careers that their own familiar home afforded them. They felt like they had suddenly wandered into a hotel. They stood looking around trying to remember where things used to be. Suddenly Steed turned to his wife and planted a kiss on her lips. "I love you," he said, breaking away. '"Please don't kill my aunts." Before Emma could respond, Greta appeared in the doorway of a room and motioned them over to her. "Over here, John, Emma. Over here. I say, what a shock we've had!" They darted over to Greta and went into Steed's study. Maggie was flopped backwards in a leather chair, pale and wan, a glass of water held in her hand. Patricia stood over her, fanning her with a book, while little Eddie stood by the recliner holding Maggie's other hand. There was a dark bruise on Maggie's forehead, from which dropped a dab or two of blood. "John, it happened so suddenly. Patty and Maggie were in here, searching through your desk drawers-" "-Why, you informer, you!" Patty complained. "It's none of their business what we were doing in here." "What? Even if you had no business being in here, and were searching through John's desk?" "If he has nothing to hide, there is no reason why we shouldn't open a drawer or two. If he has something to hide, it should be found out, if possible, as it probably would be better for all if we all knew about it." "What rubbish! That's the most illogical thing I've ever heard." "Then certainly you must not listen to your own words, dear Greta. For all we know, John may have had a photograph of Helen Hendrickson in there, for old times sake. Wouldn't Emma like to know about that?" "Oh, not Helen again," Greta said. "She was the buxom lady, wasn't she?" Eddie asked. Steed interrupted. "Never mind, Eddie. And, there's no photo of Helen in my desk and would someone please tell me what happened to Maggie and how she's doing?" Maggie sat up straighter. "John, it's nothing for anyone to be concerned about. I merely raised myself too quickly after having a bit of a peek in your lower desk drawer. Things went dark, I got dizzy and I fell. Hit my head on the edge of the desk. Really, I wish you all would settle down. I'm perfectly fine. Just a little fatigued after our travels." "Did you lose unconsciousness?" Steed asked. "Should we call for an ambulance? There's a rather fine clinic not too far down the road." "No. I do not need either an ambulance or some incompetent country doctor poking me hither and yon." "Particularly in your yon," Patricia agreed. "I went there for a tummy ache, once," Eddie said, pointing at his belly button. "Nanny thought I might be having appyditis." Maggie smiled at Eddie. "Appyditis, little midget? But, your appy turned out to be healthy?" "Yes, my appy was healthy. But, I did throw up." "Goodness! How disgusting! Please don't do that around me." "I did it in Nanny's car." "Where is the nanny, by the way?" Patricia asked the Steeds. "Surely you must still have one. Unless Bossy Wife chased her away." Emma's voice rang shrilly. "I have had enough of your rudeness!" "You have? Why, but we've just gotten started. You must have a very low threshold of rudeness." "Indeed. A little bit of rudeness is good for the soul," Maggie concurred. "Keeps it on its toes." She snapped her fingers sharply as her nephew often did. "We do have a nanny," Steed said, trying to prevent his wife's arrest on a charge of double homicide, "but we gave her the day off as we had thought we were to spend it as a family riding about." "You certainly did think wrongly, didn't you?" Steed wondered how much paperwork he would have to deal with to keep himself out of gaol. Patricia noticed Maggie beginning to stand up and reached out to help her. "Slowly! Go slowly! No repeat fainting performances, please." Maggie slapped Patty's hands away. "I'm not an invalid. It was redecorating all the misplaced doodads in this house that tired me out." Steed welcomed the lead to continue that troubling line of conversation. "Yes, aunties, Emma and I must say that we are none too happy to discover you've moved so many things about." Patty answered, "Well, if they had been in the right places to begin with, John, we wouldn't have had to move them." "Are you feeling better, auntie?" Eddie asked, as his tall aunt once more soared over him. "Yes, sweet midget, much better." "I'm glad!" "I've warned you about calling him a midget," Emma said. "Did you? When?" Patty asked. "Can't say I remember." "We should put a bandage on your forehead," Greta said. "I'll go get the first aid kit." "I don't need first aid. I'm not that injured. Second or third aid would suffice." Greta left the room, shaking her head back and forth. Patty leaned squinting into her sister's forehead, as if she was examining a clue. 'Maggie, it is quite a bruise. A lovely dark purple. Like that sweater you bought in Islington last year." "The one I wore to Evelyn Albright's 80th birthday party two months ago?" Maggie asked as she gently fingered the swelling. "Yes." "Well, I always did look good in that color." "Yes, and isn't it interesting that now that color looks good in you." "Very interesting, indeed. Well, better a bruise on one's forehead than a large birthmark on one's chest." "Yes, the one is temporary, the other permanent." "Men look better with birthmarks, anyway, don't they, Patty? Even ones like pyramids," Maggie asked. "Oh, yes. And they look better in bruises, too," her sister affirmed. Emma threw a look of bafflement to Steed who shook his head indicating his equally confused state. Maggie suddenly tottered and Steed dashed to her side. "Auntie, I think you need to have a doctor look at you." "Nonsense! Those quacks! I'll have nothing more to do with them!" "Well, then, at least let me help you upstairs to your bedroom, where you can lie down and rest awhile." Oddly enough, for the first time since The Two of Them had shown up, Maggie looked at Steed in a thoughtful, serious fashion. It made him a bit awkward in its uniqueness. Her words completed the dazzling irregularity of her composed and rational behavior. "Yes, John, I do believe you're right. I should lie down for a while. It's been a busy few hours." "Yes, Maggie, do lie down," Patty concurred. "In a few hours we can then rearrange the rest of the house." "You shall do no such thing," Emma said, hands planted like flying buttresses on her hips. "Oh, Emma, do act English. Stiff upper lip and all. John, grab hold of Maggie's arm and lead her upstairs, won't you?" Steed put an arm around Maggie's waist and held her forearm with his other. Nodding his head at Emma, he walked out with her, her steps deliberate and a bit unsure. Emma, Patty and Eddie were left in the room. Emma held up her finger to Steed's aunt. "Now, you listen to me. However much Steed feels compelled to let you run roughshod over him, that is not the case with me. You are a guest in this home and if you don't act like mature adults, I guarantee that you shall not stay here the whole two weeks my amiable husband granted to you." Patty knelt down to bop Eddie gently on his nose. He giggled in a high-pitched voice that was very contagious and Patty couldn't help letting a little laugh slip out of her mouth, either. "You charming little midget, you." She then stood back up and asked Emma, "I'm sorry, were you speaking to me? I didn't hear a word. But, I do want to say that your son Eddie is proof that you and Steed must be doing something right, even if it is not the way you are raising your daughter." With that Patty spun around and darted out of the room. Emma and Eddie looked at each other and then Emma picked Eddie up and plopped down in the recliner, Eddie sitting on her lap as they held each others' hands. "Isn't it fun having Auntie Patty and Maggie here, Mummy?" "It's hilarious," she deadpanned. "Where's Elly?" "She's in her bedroom, having a tantrum." "Oh. Am I going to have tantrums too, someday?" Emma smiled at her son, and affectionately brushed his hair off his forehead, like she often did to his father. "No. It's not in your nature to do so." Eddie leaned forehead, resting his little body up against her torso. She relished that added weight on her, and how he wrapped his arms around her. She kissed his head and rubbed her hand up and down his back. "Mummy, don't be mad if they call me a midget. I don't mind." She closed her eyes and let that moment of peace, and the blessing of children dissolve away her anger and resentment. "I won't be mad," she promised. "Good. I love you," he said, snuggling in closer to her. She wrapped her arms around him and pulled his head up to her shoulder, where he rested it. She had a sudden revelation of the priority of things in life, and resolved to handle Steed's dreadfully outrageous aunts with more aplomb and style. They had merely caught her by surprise, and she had rushed headlong into being offended by their every word and action. But, she was a better person than that, and to prevent both her children and her husband from suffering with her ire for the next two weeks, she decided she would simply always keep in mind the joys she was gifted with, and the love that surrounded her. She made a pledge she would deal with her aunt-in-laws in a flawless manner. It was a lovely vow. She was quite pleased with herself, and Steed would very much appreciate her commitment to stay calm. It lasted all of eleven hours. Chapter Three The Two of Them did indeed retire to Maggie's bedroom, Maggie to rest and Patty to watch over her. Elly came out of her bedroom and approached her parents, engaged in replacing their vases and pictures where they were originally, and mumbled a terse, "Sorry", as she studiously examined her feet. Her parents accepted her apology, mentioned they were pleased with her for having done so, and then, asking Greta to stay and keep The Two of Them from getting into anymore trouble, the Steeds went merrily outside and spent a joyous few hours riding about. It rejuvenated their spirits and reclaimed their peace of mind. Steed rode with Eddie sitting in front of him, and Emma and Elly shared a horse, too. It was just about time for Elly to be able to ride by herself, but neither of her parents as yet trusted her impulsive self to not dash off on a mad galloping spree if she was wholly in charge of her own mount. Giving Elly the reins, though, did keep her from moping through their leisurely countryside jaunt, stopping at a pub for a light lunch. It almost made Steed and Emma forget what waited for them back at their house. Around 15:00 the clouds blew in and the Steed's were not quite lucky enough to arrive home before the sky had ominously darkened and grey rain began falling first in a drizzle and then in a sheet of water. Their helmets were useless for protection and they were sopping wet and a bit chilly as they trotted up to the stables. "Riding in England. Nothing beats it," Steed said, placing his drenched son down on the ground. "It's like taking a bath outside!" Eddie declared, jumping into a puddle on the gravel path. "It's like a recipe for pneumonia," Emma said, as Elly leapt down athletically from the brown mare's back. "I learned that England is one of the rainiest places on Earth. Good things the horses don't seem to mind," Elly said. "Steed, take care of them whilst I bring the children inside." Steed nodded and led the mares into the stables, where he used a towel to dry his head off and then quickly brushed them down, covered them with blankets and gave them some food and clean water. He dashed into the house, removing his wet riding boots in the foyer, placing them besides the boots of the rest of his damp family. He met Greta inside, by the stairway. "How are The Two of Them?" he asked. "They're in the kitchen planning tonight's repast." "Maggie's out of bed? Is that wise? She really did knock herself rather hard." "She seems to have recovered quite adequately. Listen John, I know you're terribly wet and need to change your clothes, but do take a moment and tell me what was that advice they mentioned they gave you some years ago." Steed smiled. "Oh, it was nothing much. Hardly worth mentioning. And, I do indeed need to change." With that, he kissed her forehead and then went up the main stairs. Greta may not have known everything about Steed and his noteworthy and highly secretive career, but she had long ago figured out that when her nephew avoided a topic, or down-played its importance, it was definitely a topic that was very significant to him and would be impossible to get him to discuss. No matter how much she tried, and she had made herself blue in the face a few futile times in the past. Tsking in disappointment, and disliking that mystery, Greta went into the kitchen to make sure Maggie and Patty didn't mistakenly, or deliberately, burn it down. Supper was served at 19:00, and the Steeds sat down famished. The meal was served in the casual dining room that had been set out by The Two of Them, who had loudly and vehemently refused any help in either cooking the meal, setting the table, or serving the food. "We earn our keep," Patty said, as she put a large bowl of mashed potatoes on the table. In fact, a very large bowl. "That's a lot of mashed potatoes," Steed observed. "Well, we can use the leftovers for breakfast tomorrow," she said. "Yuck," Elly opined. "What's for dinner?" Eddie asked, fork and knife in hand, napkin tucked in front of his pencil thin neck. He just barely reached the top of the table. "Stewed giraffe?" Steed asked. "That was a very frequent meal when I was growing up." "Nonsense, John. Stewed giraffe was only for solstice celebrations. Midget boy, you shall soon be eating a very delicious meal of braised squirrel teeth. Crunchy and very nutritious." Eddie and Elly had long ago gotten used to the adults around them joking about all sorts of weird and bizarre meals, so they no longer believed them or grew horrified at the sound of them. But, still, being young, they enjoyed the game and hearing about all the creative combinations of the make belief meals. For Steed and Emma it was heartening and pleasant that Auntie Patty had picked up on Steed's playfulness so aptly. Maggie entered the dining room with a platter, full of chicken breasts and asparagus spears. Each person took their portion and then the typical quiet sounds of eating ensued. After just a few bites, though, the Steeds and Greta all got a strange look on their faces. Elly actually spit her mouthful of food back onto her plate, receiving a disapproving look from her mother, who had somehow managed to choke down her food. Visibly forcing his food down his throat, Steed then put down his fork and knife and asked, "Aunties, exactly what flavoring did you use on the chicken? It's quite… exotic." "It's awful!" Elly said, grimacing and pushing her plate away from her. Emma very gently kicked her shin in warning. "Why, just the usual spices, John," Maggie answered, eating heartily. "Cinnamon, thyme, paprika, curcumin. Nothing unusual. Found in everyone's household. Why?" Emma was going to follow her vow. She remained quiet, content that she was around her family, in their home, they were all healthy, there was nothing to get upset about. "All those spices aren't usually found in the same meal," Steed clarified. "I like it!" Eddie said, eating another bite. "You like it?" Greta asked. Now everyone in the room stared at Eddie. True, the boy was unshakeable in his good nature, but suddenly Emma had a fear that he had some birth defect that no one until now had been aware of; that is, that their dear son had been born without any taste buds at all. A swell of panic rose in her, but realizing the ridiculous nature of her worry, she let her worry go. "Yes!" Eddie said. "It's like a bunch of meals all mixed into one! Like Christmas and Easter and my birthday all rolled up into a piece of chicken." "Midget, that is indeed the name of the meal-'All Holidays Chicken.'" Maggie said. "It's dreadful," Elly said, pushing the chicken and asparagus aside and ladeling several large glops of mashed potatoes onto her plate. "I'll just eat this." Steed or Emma could have got up to search the kitchen for some other appropriate dinner. But, the day had been long, they were tired, Eddie as happy eating the chicken, Elly was happy eating a sinkful of mashed potatoes, The Two of Them would create some irritating scene if they went for some other food, they could sneak back down later to satisfy their own hunger pangs, and so, sighing deeply, they each reached for the bowl of mashed potatoes as Eddie, Maggie and Patty ate their plates clean of "All Holidays Chicken." Seeing them, Greta sighed deeply herself, and did the same. "Are you feeling better, Aunt Maggie?" Eddie asked, shoveling more chicken into his mouth to the continued amazement of the rest of his family. Aunt Maggie had a little gauze taped on her forehead, but otherwise seemed her usual vital self. "Yes, I am. A little nap and I was back to my old self." "Did you enjoy your ride?" Patty asked. "Yes, but we got drenched," Elly said. "And I still had to ride with Mummy. Marilyn Petheridge is allowed to ride all by herself." "Who's Marilyn Petheridge?" Patty asked. Steed and Emma internally cringed whilst their daughter went off excitedly. "Marilyn is a friend of mine and she has her own horse, who has a nice pedigree, although everyone knows that my Mummy and Daddy are richer than hers. And, Daddy even raises horses, but Marilyn's parents don't, because her Daddy doesn't hardly know anything about horses, and still Mummy and Daddy haven't given me my own horse. I want a mare, sixteen hands high, who can fly like the wind and jump as high as the tower of London." "And what do you want aside from a horse?" Maggie asked. Elly, used to being told to cease and desist when she prattled on about all the things she was desperate to have, was ecstatic to have some adults willing to hear her out. Her eyes lit up like she was witnessing some Biblical miracle. "Oh, I want more clothes, and more pieces for my miniature doll house, and I want a telly for my own room, and I want Mummy and Daddy to build a movie theatre next to the garage, and I want five new dolls, and Marilyn Petheridge has her ears pieced and has diamond earrings in them." Maggie and Patty exchanged glances. "That's lovely, dear. A veritable cornucopia of material belongings no rich child believes they should be without." "I shouldn't be without them," Elly agreed. "But, Mummy and Daddy won't get me any of those things." "Do you know what I want?" Eddie asked. "What?" Patty asked. "I want a box of smiles to give to everyone, so everyone is always happy!" What children think up! "That's ridiculous, Eddie. Where can you buy a box of smiles?" his sister asked. "At a store!" "No store sells that." Eddie thought a moment. "Then…I'll make the box myself!" "Eddie, you made the box long ago, the moment you were born," Emma said. "You've been handing out smiles ever since." "Good!" "Elly, Maggie and I want to talk to you, alone. We'll come to your bedroom later," Patty said. Steed and Emma shared a look over that. "Alright, aunties." The meal continued on with everyone getting somewhat full on the food that they could countenance. Dessert was eventually served, little chocolate chip cookies mixed with peppermint tea leaves. A little too many pieces of peppermint wound up stuck in everyone's teeth, but in general, the cookies weren't that bad. Emma saw no reason to chastise The Two of Them for the time wasted in their kitchen putting together this disaster of a meal. She just silently decided to not give them the role of chefs again. Simple. No need to get upset. No need to have one's temper flare. "Emma, dear, how did you like our little supper?" Maggie asked her. Steed's eyes gave away his anxiety; they were the most expressive aspect of his face. Emma meekly smiled at Maggie and answered most civilly, 'It was fine, Maggie. Thank you for serving it." "Fine?" Maggie answered. "I say, then, Patty and I will cook supper for the next two weeks we're here." "NO!" Emma cried. Then, composing herself, she cleared her throat daintily and continued. "No, thank you, that's shan't be necessary. Nanny will be back tomorrow, and she usually cooks supper. There's no need for you to take over what we pay her to do." Steed sat stunned by his wife's composure. "We'll prepare breakfast then." "No, that's not necessary, either." "Lunch it is! I've a lovely tuna yoghurt recipe-" "No! Really, aunties, you must simply relax in our home. Walk in the garden. Read in the library. Play with the children. We will take care of our meals." "As you wish, Bossy Wife," Patty bowed. Vow. She made a vow. They were simply trying to agitate her. She knew their modus operandi, now. She was under control. Fully under control. She was not going to crash her chair onto their heads. Steed came to the rescue. Standing up he said, "Let's retire to the drawing room, shall we? Play some draughts? Or Snakes and Ladders? Read a book? Yoga, anyone?" The children followed him out of the room, discussing how the rest of the evening would pass. Greta was a dear. "Emma, go play with your children. I'll clean up dinner." "Thank you, Greta. That's very sweet." "That's Greta. Sweet as salt." "Listen you two, I've had it up to here…". Emma left the room, hearing a cacophony of old women behind her, including, she would have sworn, that accursed word, "buxom." The rest of the night was gratefully passed in peace. Greta drove to her cottage in Berkshire. Elly spent time alone with her aunts, quite a bit of time, actually, refusing to tell her parents what they had spoken about, and then, oddly went to bed earlier than necessary. A few games were played with Eddie and then it was time to put their exhausted child to sleep. By 23:00 The Two of Them were secluded in their individual bedrooms. Steed and Emma had the house to themselves and it was heavenly. "Just thirteen days to go," Steed the optimist said, wrapping his arm around his wife on a sofa. "If I hear 'bossy wife' once more…," Emma fairly growled. "I do say, my dear, that you seemed to compose yourself most impressively the rest of the day after the little incident in my study." Considering Steed had called their victory over the murderous Prendergast "a little incident" in his Ministry report, Emma understood his tendency to understate matters. Still, she was pleased he noticed. "Yes, I've made a vow." "A vow?" "To not allow Them to ruin my equanimity." "How very Steed-like," he smiled. "And, rather sexy, too. Your considerate nature makes you glow." "Oh?" "Indeed. And I wonder if I might also get you to vow to…" he whispered conspiratorially in her ear. She considered his idea. "Perhaps. If you vow to…," leaning into his ear, she explained in exact words what his vow would entail. When she was done, Steed leered at her, nodding his head eagerly. "I vow. I vow," he readily confirmed. She smiled, bopped his nose with her finger and then brushed back that snip of curly hair that always fell over his right forehead. "To bed, Sir Knight?" "To bed, milady." He stood up and then taking her hand helped her to her feet. They held hands as they walked into their bedroom. After a quick visit to the bathroom for their own evening toilette, a quick removal of clothes, a quick entrance into their bed, a quick switching lights off, silvery moonbeams flowed in through the windows, and they began caressing each other. Suddenly a frown coated Emma's face and she stopped rubbing Steed's finely haired chest. "What's wrong?" he asked. "Do you wish I was more buxom?" Steed dropped his head on her shoulder as if in defeat. "Emma…" "I know it seems a silly question to you, but I'd honestly like to know." Steed looked up at her. "Do you wish I was your age, and not fourteen years older?" Emma tilted her head, surprised at Steed's follow-up question. "Why, I never think of that. Besides you look very dashing with your graying hair." She ran her hand through his thick and luscious head of hair. "Well, I never think of how else you should look. You're perfect to me. Just the way you are." "But, the way those Two kept bringing up Helen Hendricksen-" Steed exhaled noisily. "Do you want to know something about Helen Hendricksen?" "I suppose…" "I don't even remember who she was! I've been trying to recall her all day, since The Two of Them brought her up and I just can't. Nothing comes to mind. Nothing." Emma started giggling. "Good God, Steed. Tell me, one more question. Something I've always wondered about but never dared to ask." "Can't we stop talking and instead make love?" Steed sighed, flipping onto his back. Emma slid on top of him, much to his delight. He ran his arms down her long back, loving the feel of her ribs and her muscles. "Just this one last question and them I'm all yours." "Alright…" "Tell me, how many women have you been with in your life?" "I beg your pardon?" Emma spoke slowly, playfully enunciating each word. "How. Many. Lovers. Have. You. Had. In. Your. Life? I mean, that you don't even recall them all!" "I have no idea. I didn't notch my bedposts, you know." "You must have some idea." "Must I? Have many have you had?" That slipped out of his mouth carelessly and he was disgusted with himself. "Six," Emma said simply. A certain embarrassed silence quieted Steed. Finally, after some long seconds he meekly said, "A gentleman does not discuss such matters. Not even in the locker room. Not even in his club. Not even with his wife. Especially not with his wife." Emma had the most annoying habit of biting onto a piece of conversation like a bulldog, then shaking it back and forth and refusing to let go. "100? 200? 500? 1000?" Steed would have rolled her off him if she didn't know him well enough. Accompanying each number she inquired about was a delicious lick of her tongue over his nipples, while one hand caressed the nape of his neck. Steed purred in response, "I don't know. Pick any number that makes you happiest and then let me ravish you." "No. Honestly. Tell me." Emma had slid slightly to the side of Steed; her hand had found Steed's burgeoning erection and was skillfully enhancing it. "12459!" Steed said, desperate to have the conversation come to an end, so in the end they could both come. "Thank you. That wasn't so hard, was it? Not like this is hard," she murmured, sliding down her husband's body, taking plenty of time to fulfill her personal vow to him, and enjoying every minute of it. When he was near to ejaculating, he pulled her off his manhood and fairly attacked her, his avidity and earnestness in his attention to her whole body eliciting desire that was boundless. At some point that they both recognized in their complete unity as a couple Steed mounted Emma fiercely. She wrapped her limber legs high on his back, and his mouth descended to her breasts, which Steed had always viewed as ideal, being a part of Emma, his ideal woman, ideal friend, ideal wife. He drove down hard into her and she grabbed hold of his torso as their pelvises rocked back and forth. The drawing away and meeting each other again and agent sent waves of growing pleasure shooting through them, and their voices expressed their growing bliss with various sounds and affectionate words. She never thought of Steed being fourteen years older than her. Not when he was still so capable of making her feel so good, so very good, the way he moved, his long and muscular body… Suddenly, the door to their bedroom opened and light from the hallway landed right on them, spotlighting them clearly as if they were actors on a stage. Their bodies locked together, no sheets covering their love-making, their hearts stopped still as they turned to the door. They had trained their children to knock loudly and ask if they could come in, because it scared them to have the door locked. Auntie Patty stood in the doorway, looking at them with no more concern as if they had been caught at stamp collecting. "John, Emma, you might wish to know that you are completely out of milk and butter," she said. "We must buy some tomorrow or your children will develop rickets." Mortification was not strong enough to describe Steed and Emma's emotional response. It didn't quite contain either their despair or their absolute desire to drop dead at that moment and fly away from Earth to heaven far away above. Emma, her legs still up around Steed's back, solidified into cold marble as Steed pulled the sheet up over them hastily, hampered in his movements by the fact that he was still firmly implanted in his wife and to pull out in front of his aunt… It was something inconceivable to Steed, like asking him to have a sex change operation and become an opera soprano. "Yes, yes, er, that's fine, fine, good, auntie, we'll do that, go away, goodnight," he managed to stutter once a sheet covered him and his wife, his thirty-five years in the field of danger not ever preparing him for quite this sort of encounter. "Right, then, good-night. Don't let the bedbugs bite," she said, closing the door behind her. Emma was still paralyzed from embarrassment. Steed pulled out of her, which was easy as his erection had dissolved away very much like their dignity had. "Are you catatonic?" he asked his immobile wife, shaking her a little. She moved her mouth in soundless ways, as if loosening up stiff and rigid lips. Slowly her skin seemed to soften, the marbling effect wearing off. "That bloody bitch!" Emma finally spit out, as much an affront to Steed as his aunt had been. She pushed Steed off her and stood up out of bed, wrapping her bathrobe around her as she paced like tiger in a cage, her arms crossed tightly in front of her. "How dare she do that! Just barge in! How humiliating! I want them gone! I want them gone right now! Do you hear me! Right now!" "I can't kick them out in the middle of the night," Steed said. "You will kick them out. Let them hitchhike to the devil, for all I care!" "But, what happened to your vow?" "Damn my vow! Damn them!" She continued fuming for many minutes, and Steed stayed in their bed, allowing his wife her somewhat righteous indignation. Still, he was by no means going to tell his aunts they had to leave tonight. Emma came to a halt right by Steed. "You. Go to Aunt Patty and tell her I want an apology. Now. Tonight." "An apology? But, why don't we just forget about it and go to sleep." "She's seen me with my legs up in the air! I cannot possibly sleep until I get an apology." "Emma-" She grabbed his arm and dragged him to a sitting position. Then she threw his pajamas and bathrobe at him. "Put them on and go to her." "Now, listen, I understand you're mad, but I don't particularly appreciate being ordered to do something which I have no desire to do." "Lovely!" Emma said, storming off across the room. "Then we just shan't have sex for the next two weeks. I won't risk this happening again!" She sunk down in a chair, grumbling. Steed let some long minutes pass, giving Emma a chance to have her anger settle down. Emma Steed certainly had a temper, but it was never long lasting and she wasn't the type to hold a grudge. Usually. This situation might well be the exception to the rule. Finally he got out of bed and wrapped the robe around him. He walked over to Emma and sat next to her, sighing heavily. "Why do women always use sex as blackmail?" "Because it works." "But, you'll miss it as much as I will," he smiled smarmily. Emma glanced at Steed. He couldn't read her look at first and then a cunning narrowing of her eyes intrigued and worried him. "Perhaps," she said, "but I'm much more comfortable with taking care of my own needs than you are." At that, her hands disappeared until her robe, moving about. Once by chance years ago as colleagues she had discovered that Steed, in a very kinky way, had his blood turn to lava when he saw her pleasing herself; his libido went off the scale. Since then, they had at times incorporated that into their own sex life. Nearly drooling as he stared at where her hands were, like an eagle eying prey a mile away, Steed shook his head back and forth, his training to resist torture helping his defiance. "I'm not going to talk to Aunt Patty." "Oh?" Emma slyly decided to raise her poker hand even higher by bringing in a new facet. She looked searchingly at her dresser. "Now, in which drawer did I put that vibrator?" Steed, his breaths panting, choked on his saliva. "What did you say?" "My vibrator. Finally went and got one. In London. At a very naughty store. You're gone too long on business, sometimes, so I've perfected my way of dealing with that. Got one just about as long and hard as you get, and that buzzing mimics the way you sometimes thrust…" Steed drifted off into an imaginary land that froze him in place; very naughty images ran through his mind and the physical needs which ensued made him realize that talking about their demand for privacy in their bedroom to his aunts was not too discomforting or problematic… "Alright, alright. I'll talk to her. I'll talk to her." One of Emma's hands reappeared and patted Steed's arm. "That's a good hubby." Steed dove to her, planting a kiss on her lips that stunned the two of them. They parted, eventually. "One day we'll laugh about tonight," Steed said. "No, I won't. Now, get out of here, talk to that old tart, and hurry back before I've taken care of things and you're left to your own devices." "As long as you leave your devices in the dresser drawer." "Device. And I will. Nothing beats the original." "Thank you very much. You know, one day I just may threaten to hold out on you, my dear." "Now that's funny!" Emma answered, chuckling at, not with, Steed. "All I would have to do is this-" and she sent her hands under Steed's robe while her lips found his neck and said, huskily, "I want you so badly, so badly, right now..." Steed immediately grabbed for her and she ducked out of his arms, standing up laughing. Steed realized his bluff had been called. "Touche," he said, grinning. "However, if I wasn't the gentleman I was, I wonder if I might not be able to convince you the same way." "Yes, but you are a gentleman." "I am beginning to see the flaws inherent in that role." They smiled at each other as Steed put his pajamas on, and then retied his bathrobe around him. Affecting a poised nonchalance in front of his wife, he left his bedroom setting out on the worst mission he had been assigned for the last twenty years. Steed could understand Emma's position in this appalling affair. Even though Steed was as English as anyone living in Britain could possibly be, and as a result was properly contained and reserved in most aspects of his life, when it came to his body, he had learned how to be at ease with it and with showing it to others. So many injuries and so many stays in hospitals and clinics, wearing the barest of gowns and having tubes inserted everywhere had gradually worn down Steed's reticence in showing the least amount of skin and scar. He didn't particularly like that his aunt had barged in on them inflagrante delecto, but he was comfortable enough with being seen naked that in the future, the far future, on his death bed, it would no doubt become an amusing anecdote. However, Emma was a different person altogether in this regard. Although very forward, aggressive and confident with her work, innately she tended to be even more reserved about herself than her secret-laden husband. Too intelligent for the masses, too athletic, too wealthy, too competent, Emma Peel had had to deal her whole life with all manner of jealous people, who were either uncomfortable around her, or resentful, or tried to seduce her like she was a trophy to be won. Steed was happy their being together had slowly opened her up, enabling her to trust and rely on others more than she ever had before. Yet, in terms of having herself exposed to the ignominy of her legs spread wide and upwards, that was indeed the antithesis of her innate private self and was not something she should be expected to quietly accept. Her anger was often a psychological attempt to regain control, and was completely justifiable in this regard. Too bad, Steed thought, she had been so healthy in her life she hadn't ever needed tubes stuck in her where tubes should never be stuck. He went down the hall quietly to where Aunt Patty had been placed and knocked on the door lightly. "Auntie? May I come in?" There was no answer after several repetitions, so, possibly risking life and limb he opened the door anyway, peering inside. The room was empty; the bed covers not even rolled back. He flicked on the light and stepped inside; there was no auntie to be seen, and the bathroom that was shared by Patty's and Maggie's rooms was also empty. Steed turned the light off, closed the door and went down the hallway, rubbing his chin. He progressed to Maggie's assigned room, espying a faint line of light at the bottom of her door. Apprehension filled him. After bracing himself as if he was entering a roomful of powerful duplicates, he knocked gently yet firmly. He was none too excited to confront both of them regarding this very unsettling problem. "Who is it?" a voice called through the door. "Me. John. I wonder if I might talk to you, Patty, for a moment." "Come in, dear." Steed entered the room to find Maggie in the queen-size bed sitting up on some pillows, attired in a thin nightie with lace around her neck and sleeves. Patty, in her nightgown and Victorian sleeping hat, and slippers she had obviously knitted herself, sat in a comfortably cushioned deep chair across the room, holding a book in her hands. There was a small lamp on the dresser next to Patty, shining light down on her in a yellow triangle, but otherwise the room was in the dark. Steed brusquely nodded at Maggie, who waved, and then looked directly at Patty as he took two steps into the room, immediately tripping over something in the middle of the floor he hadn't noticed. He stumbled in an ungainly fashion, and then hitting his slipper on the item again, he fell forward to the floor, landing with a hard "Ooomph!" on his side, his right ankle suddenly throbbing. "Mind the stool," Patty said, calmly. "Yes, do tell him. He might trip over it," Maggie added. Making a Charlie Chaplin entrance into his aunt's room to talk about his sex life was not a good mood enhancer for Steed. He looked back and was able to perceive in the shadows a little cushioned footstool on its side; it was the one his son still used to reach the bathroom sink. "What on earth is that little stool doing in the middle of the room? And why warn me about it after the fact?" He took off his slipper and massaged his ankle, relieved, at least, it wasn't swelling up. He moved it a little and there was just a touch of soreness. It didn't seem too badly wounded. Steed almost felt more shamed about his inelegant pratfall into the room than he was over having been seen in the midst of intercourse with his wife. He prided himself on his graceful gait and lightning sharp reflexes. To splay on the floor with a grunt truly hurt his ego. "Protection, John. Two little old ladies like us, we need some sort of alarm system," Patty explained. "In my house? Who were you expecting to burst in?" "Who knows? A robber. Rapist. Jay-walker. Diabolical mastermind. The world is fraught with danger." "Diabolical mastermind?" Steed asked, surprised. "Where have you ever heard that term?" As far as Steed knew, that was his and Emma's unique little phrase describing the class of criminals that was extra intelligent, extra cunning, extra inventive, and extra treacherous. Patty and Maggie exchanged looks, but on the floor in the near dark, Steed couldn't quite make out their faces. Patty said, "On the telly, at some point, I suppose. Some TV show or another." 'No, Patty. We heard it on the streets, in the back alleys, when we were children. We grew up in such a bad part of town." Steed stood up slowly, wary of putting any hard pressure on his ankle, and leery of their explanation. "You grew up in Berkshire, on a large estate, with no alleyways in sight." "Oh, yes, that's right. How's your ankle? Could you place the footstool back in position, please?" Changing the subject just like I do, he pondered. Maybe some spy characteristics are genetic. All in all, their use of that term was frivolous and Steed saw no point in maintaining the topic. He took a few gingerly steps and aside from a slight aching, his foot was fine. He felt sure it would be normal in the morning. He bent over and put the stool upright in the middle of the room. "What's Eddie going to use in the morning?" "Oh, it will be back in his bathroom by then. We'll all be very early risers," Patty assured him. "Now, what brings you to visit us so late at night?" Steed stood up straight, resting most of his weight on his left foot. He cleared his throat and hemmed and hawed for a few moments. "I really only need to talk to Patty. Perhaps outside in the hallway?" Patty put her book on the dresser and folded her hands nicely in her lap. "Certainly not, John. Maggie and I haven't had a secret between us for the last 60 years." Steed looked imploringly at his aunt Patty, but she seemed oblivious to his embarrassment, and merely waited patiently for Steed to speak. "Oh, Patty, I bet it's about you popping in on them unannounced," Maggie said. "During their love-making." Steed grimaced. She would have told her sister about it. A certain warmth grew on his face and he wondered if he was blushing. "Oh, that? Well, rickets is a very serious disease. The children could be bow-legged their whole lives." "Like American cowboys." "Yes, just like them." It was late. Steed was tired. There was still hope that he and his ideal wife, whom he loved with all his heart, might have blissful sex. He was, by nature, a man of action, and having reached his limit of accepting eccentricity that day, he blurted out what he needed to say. "Aunties, Emma wants an apology from Patty for having barged in on us, and we both need a promise from the two of you to not enter our bedrooms in that manner again." "Oooh, Patty, I bet they have a very active sex life." "She must make up for her bossy nature in some way to keep John around." "Look," Steed said, in a huff. "Emma is not bossy. She is very easy to live with. She merely took umbrage to you calling Eddie a midget and insulting her, er, figure. I think she's overall put up with quite a lot from the Two of You today and I shan't leave until I do hear that apology and promise." "Do you like Jane Austen?" Maggie asked. "That's what Patty is reading to me. Sit in that chair over there, if you're not going to leave." "I'm not sitting down." "You're going to stand? On your ankle? The whole time you're here?" Steed had had enough himself. "I don't know why The Two of You have chosen to visit me and my family out of the blue like this-" "Why, you sent us a birth announcement!" Patty exclaimed. "That was at least four years ago," Steed drawled. "Really? How time flies." The room sank into silence for a minute. Finally Steed thought to break things down into tiny little auntie bits. "You," he said, pointing a very long arm at Patty, "say you are sorry for barging in on us." "Sorry for saving your children from a life of nutrient deficient misery?" "Yes." Auntie Patty shrugged. "If it's that important to you. I'm sorry." "Good. Now-" "I must add, however," Auntie Patty continued, "I was disappointed in the humdrum positioning you and Emma were in. I thought with your experience you'd be more creative." "The ceiling straps are broken," Steed said. He wondered if smoke really ever came out of a person's ears, or only in the cartoon people he watched with Eddie. They both tsk'd. "Too bad," Maggie said. "Now, both of you. Promise me that neither of you shall repeat tonight's escapade, no matter what food we are out of and how that could possibly affect the health of our children." "I don't know, John, that seems very irresponsible to me." "Indeed, Patty, almost negligent. One wonders if they'd like to be alerted during tea time if their children stumbled down a well." "Now! Promise!" Steed growled. "Oh, how manly!" Patty exclaimed, clapping gaily. "Maggie, we must promise or he might beat us down. I'm sure you realize he has beaten people down." "It's beaten people up, Patty, and yes, I've heard. It's runs through the family gossip mill quite regularly." "Well, then, shall we promise?" "Let's." "John, I promise to not ent