The Lotus House by Katharine Moore Page B

grown splendidly — but so had the weeds. She was emptying her bucket of these on the compost heap among the old bushes by the fence one day just as ‘the Terribles’ rushed out in a body and started to use the fence as a target. Pop, bang, pop went their peashooters, making Janet jump so that she upset her weeds all over the place. One bullet came over and nearly hit her.
    “Stop that at once!” she called out. Immediately heads appeared above the fence.
    “Get along, you old cow,” shouted out one boy.
    “Let’s see if we can hit her bucket,” shouted another, “if she gets peppered it’s her own bloody fault.”
    Janet trembled with rage but just then Dian appeared, it being Tuesday, to shake out the ground-floor rugs.
    “Look out,” called out one of the boys, “it’s big Luke’s trout,” and all the heads disappeared.
    Janet picked up her basket, she was still trembling at the outrage.
    “What’s them boys bin up to?” said Dian. “They get above themselves sometimes. Mind you it’s their Mums’ and Dads’ fault. You and me was brought up different.”
    “I should think so!” exclaimed Janet Cook. “I shall complain to the police.”
    “Oh, I wouldn’t do that, really,” said Dian, “My Luke’ll see to them, they’ll mind him better ’n any policemen.” Janet, recollecting the postman and considering how rapidly the Terribles had disappeared, was inclined to believe her and, true enough, she was free of insults from that day. Feeling under an obligation to Dian, she actually decided to invite her in for a cup of teaon one of her Tuesdays. Dian accepted with alacrity. She looked appreciatively round the flat.
    “It’s real cosy, I wonder Mrs Sanderson didn’t take it for herself, instead of them great fancy rooms of hers.”
    Janet was gratified. “It isn’t just as I want it yet though,” she said. “I’m saving up for a new carpet.” Now why have I told her that, she thought, it’ s none of her business.
    But Dian nodded in quick sympathy. “I favour them as suck your feet in like, as if you were walking in a bog,” she said, “Luke and me’ll buy one of those when we win the pools. But this one’s a nice colour though. Tell you what, mind if I bring along me new shampoo? Got it as a sample last week. What you can get nowadays! Free it was, ’cept for the stamps. It brought mine up lovely.”
    The shampoo certainly did make a difference and the two women shared the pleasure of achievement and another cup of tea together.
    “In spite of her looks and the way she speaks, I believe she really has a heart of gold,” Janet said to that persistently admonishing voice of her mother, undeterred apparently by the grave, “and her Luke has been most useful. Yes, Mother, I know he is black, but I can’t help that and nor can he, and whatever grandfather would say, he’s been a real help.”
    Miss Cook soon had another worry. A mouse actually ventured into the kitchen of the basement flat. “I never thought to have had mice here ,” she exclaimed outraged to Letty, who found herself apologizing humbly.
    “I wouldn’t have thought it either,” she said, “especially in your kitchen, Miss Cook.”
    Janet abominated mice. They were dirty, destructive and noisy — “How anyone can say ‘as quiet as a mouse’, I can’t imagine, and they dart about so, it unnerves me.”
    “It’s primeval,” said Dian darkly, “you can’t do nothingabout what’s primeval — except traps.”
    “I can’t bear dealing with traps,” said Janet. There had been mice and traps at intervals in Albert Street, but her mother or Henry had always dealt with them.
    “Traps is cruel,” agreed Dian, “well, there’s cats, they’re more natural, and leastways the cat gets some fun.”
    “I don’t really want to be bothered with a cat,” said Janet. “We never were a family for pets.”
    “Well,” said Dian, “it’s traps or cats or mice, ’cause it won’t stop by itself. Cats is