* Set in New Zealand
*
Gradually friends and family left the house following the post-funeral function until only Harry's youngest daughter Anita remained.
"Dad I'll stay the night. You can't be in this house alone, not tonight of all nights.
"Off you go love. I won't shoot myself. I'll have a few quiet drinks and think about some of the times I had with your mother."
"Dad you scare me when you say you won't shoot yourself. Give me the gun; I'm taking it with me."
"Nah you'll only end up accidentally putting a bullet through that useless jerk you live with."
"Dad I know your father hated lawyers and you grew up with that prejudice. Arnold is rather nice otherwise I wouldn't be with him."
"Does he fuck you stupid?"
"Dad!"
"It's okay, I can talk rough. Your mom's not around."
The attractive blonde burst into tears and Harry hugged her and said yeah, he missed Amy too.
Anita left ten minutes later after more tears and kisses and without the gun. She'd been told if she wished to take it she'd have to fight her father to get it out the door.
She sniffed, "You always were a tough bastard. Why on earth I've always loved you I have no idea. You and your ways would make some of my girlfriends vomit."
Harry grinned, well used to Anita's stretching of the truth.
"Tell you what Anita," he said, patting her ass. "Drop that chiseling lawyer and get yourself a tough-ass man and marry him and live happy ever after. You have a pathetic streak in you and need a guy around you who's rough diamond and will stimulate you."
"God you are an asshole. Well let's say you're right, and I'm not saying you are. How do I make your grand ideal happen?"
"Keep telling the lawyer his breath stinks and he's getting fat and he'll soon leave you, guaranteed. And then you phone Steve Young who has a daughter and ask can you meet him for a drink. Say you wish to talk about moving in with him. You've always wanted a family. You haven't managed to get pregnant so the next best thing is to marry into a family unit that's without a wife/mother."
"Dad!"
"Listen baby, just because he was the first guy to get into your pants that's no reason to vilify him. And he's possibly the best fuck you're ever had."
"How could you possibly know that?" she shouted.
"Father's know these things," he said inventively and watched her face turn crimson.
"Just do it baby."
She was crying again. She kissed him, called him an asshole and hugged him tightly, and when they reached her vehicle she sniffed as he opened the door of her SUV. She climbed in and said she'd think about what he'd said.
"You've been a marvelous dad to me and knew how to fill the hole for me emotionally when I learned how mom thought the sun shone out of Lynette's butt."
"You now control your own life Anita. Line up the life you want for yourself, no backing off. Lynette's less than happy in marriage and you must work to avoid making similar bad decisions. Take the chance to mother a girl who needs a mother."
"Bye dad, and thanks. Oh don't be mad if I take no action."
The women had cleaned up for Harry and someone, probably Lynette, had even left him a ham salad with two slices of buttered bread under a tea towel with a big slice of apple and apricot tart for a light evening meal. He thought weren't women great and poured a whisky and thought about his dear deceased Amy.
* * *
It was a long time ago, mid November 1967, a time when small town evening newspapers were flourishing although the threat to their existence from TV was already biting into economic viability through competition for advertising and luring away readership. It was a time of social liberalization of people though improved pay, growing ownership of motor vehicles and an improved national economy as time pushed beyond the recovery years that followed the destructive period of World War 11.
Harold Boone, now calling himself Harry, had just turned eighteen and been promoted from a cadet grade three reporter to a J1 (a first year junior grade) reporter on the Rutherford Times in the small North Island city of Rutherford.
The short, fat and balding managing-editor Mr Bassett stood in the doorway of his office and shouted, "Boone to my office, briskly now."
Not another grading lift already, Harry thought optimistically.
He trotted through the newsroom, ignoring the curious stares and nodded to Mr Bassett as he went past him into the dingy and very untidy office. He stood and looked down at the seated girl and checked if she had breasts. Something appeared to be there.
"This is my niece Amy Wiseman, youngest daughter of Major Wiseman, DSO."
"Good morning Amy."
She nodded without replying.
"You are making wonderful progress in learning the ropes here Boone. I'm attaching Amy to you and want you to teach my youngest niece everything you know to accelerate her progress. My sister, Amy's mother, expects this of me."
"Are you sure females are suitable to become newspaper reporters sir?"
"How dare you question my judgment."
Harry was up to this debate. "No one is perfect sir and judgment can become clouded when dealing with relatives."
The face of the unpopular editor turned purple and he was shaking in anger and his glasses were fogging.
"The boy is right Uncle Toby. "It's mother who wants me to become a journalist and she pressured you. Do you want me here?"
Uncle Toby pulled out a handkerchief, pulled off his glasses and mopped his face.
"How old are you Amy?" Harry asked and she said was going on seventeen.
"Why don't you finish high school?"
"I have completed. I'm what is known as being academically advanced."
Harry nodded and said that equated to being very bright.
"Have you ever cleaned toilets?"
Amy was nonplussed and said, "Of course."
"Been in fights with girls?"
She nodded, not looking at her uncle.
"Been in the homes of very poor people?"
"Yes and I've nursed the sick. Is this you assessing me if it's possible I would stand up to the rigors of being a gatherer of news?"
"Yes she's very bright Mr Bassett and appears capable of standing up for herself. I think we should give her a trial."
