The Good Housemaster
Chapter Four
What the hell, Alan!
Stop it! We have to focus!
He was stuffing another professor under our noses!
We know! Stop worrying about that and let Alan remember! Now relax.
There's going to be hell to pay.
Where are we? This isn't school...
"Found it, mom!"
My fifty-one year-old mother returns to the kitchen with a tablecloth in hand. "Ah, the molds. Thank you, sweetie."
I place them on the counter. "You understand, we don't have to make mince pies this year."
"Yes, we do, young man. It's tradition. Besides, I've grown to like them."
Shrugging good naturedly, I vacate the area, knowing the whirlwind of activity that is about to commence. I retreat to the sitting room and find my father reading the business section. Sitting across from him, I pull out the crossword. The classical sounds of BBC Three float from the radio as I put my pen down on one across.
"Bond futures going down."
"Oh?" I never cared for the labyrinthine intricacies of the markets. Yet my father would treat every piece of news as a possible chance to browbeat into me his hopes that I would change my career. After several years of this, I had managed to pick up a thing or two. "Fuel stocks or metals?"
"Grain. The Soviets are promising more land for crops this year."
I could tell he was waiting for me to make some kind of connection. "Brezhnev never was a reformer. Any problems in Ukraine or Romania?"
The older man nods his head. "I think we have some bad news coming from Alexei Kosygin, and the Soviets are getting out in front of it. Needless to say, I have shifted my investments in anticipation of lower yields this summer."
I softly sigh. "Always taking advantage of other people's misery."
"It's just business; and it got you through school. I dare say your current income will not support a family the same as I did you."
"I'm doing just fine now, dad."
"As long as you live at; Eddingham. What wife would want that?"
The kind who might be living at 'Eddingham' I think irreverently. The constant sparring with him. I had gotten used to it, but I can tell the tension stresses my mother. Especially now that I'm older and not buckling under anymore. Still, I didn't want a big fight the evening before Christmas. "This isn't forever, father. After a few years..."
The phone rings, and we hear mom answer it. A moment later, she peeks around the corner. "Call for you, Alan. It's someone from Eddington." She covers the mouthpiece. "A woman."
Trying to look surprised, I stand. "I wonder what this could be about?"
My dad harrumphs. "Calling you on Christmas Eve. Some kind of employer you have."
I take the handset from mom and walk into the kitchen, trying not to smile. "This is Professor Wright."
"Hello, Alan," Penelope answers lusciously. Just hearing her voice makes the hairs on my neck stand up. "Guess where I am?"
"I'm sure I have no idea."
A languid sigh. "Just in the Headmaster's office; all alone. I must tell you that I have done something very naughty."
I see mom busy herself at the counter, and my palms begin to sweat. "What exactly, Ms. Pritchard?"
"Not alone, then?" She giggles. "Somehow my knickers ended up on the carpet. What am I to do?"
I face away from my mother as I detect an uncomfortable tightness in my undergarments. "That sounds like a clear violation of School Code."
"Then I really shouldn't be sitting in my boss's chair. Can you imagine the trouble I would be in if he saw me like this?"
"How; exactly."
"With my legs up on his desk. I bet you're wondering what I'm doing with my other hand."
"Indeed." My mom is glancing at me now with a look of mild concern. Then a strange, squelching sound emits over the receiver. I couldn't mistake that noise for anything innocent. It lasts just a few seconds, but I know she is still doing something very dirty as her ragged breathing returns.
"Do you want more?"
"Absolutely." I give my mom a serious look. "I will need to have a talk with Miss Penny Stuart when I get back. A very stern one."
"Mmmmm. Yes, Professor. Be firm with me."
"You can be assured of that. Thank you for the update, Ms. Pritchard. Happy Christmas."
"I can't wait... Mmmmm!"
I hear a loud clunk from the other end. I so want to just stand there listening, but my mother is more than a bit curious now. I have to hang up.
"Trouble at school?"
I shrug, hoping not to look as uncomfortable as I feel. "You can say that. A problem that will have to be dealt with when I get back."
"You sound so different now." She goes back to making dough. "I didn't think you liked punishments."
"Not if I can avoid them. In this case, the lady in question is going out of her way to, errr; deserve discipline." Why am I talking like this with my mom?!
"Nothing too harsh, I hope."
"No ma'am. You've taught me better than that." Leaving the room quickly, I let out a long breath. Penelope. She really got me. I'll have to come up with something to even the score. Walking back to the living area, I find my dad staring at the radio.
"We are now approaching lunar sunrise, and for all the people back on Earth, the crew of Apollo 8 has a message that we would like to send to you."
Oh my! I had completely forgotten. The pickup has a lot of static in it, yet we are hearing people's voices from almost 300,000 kilometers away.
"In the beginning, God created the heaven and the earth."
"And the earth was without form, and void; and darkness was upon the face of the deep..."
My dad shakes his head. "Better be careful."