Let's Play House

Chapter Nine

The rest of that morning was very peaceful. Brian and Richie were curled up together on the little boy's bed, deeply absorbed in Alice's adventures with the White Rabbit and the Cheshire Cat.

"Kitty!" Richie cried, stabbing at the page with his grubby finger. "Bunny!"

"That's right, little buddy," Brian said chuckling. He flipped forward several pages (marking their current place with his left thumb) until he found what he was looking for: the second book in the Alice series, Through the Looking Glass.

"Uncle Brian!" said Richie indignantly. "You've gone too far! This is the wrong story!"

"No, no, I haven't gone too far," said Brian. He turned the page towards Richie. "Do you know what this is, Rich?"

Richie stared at the page. All he saw was a jumble of letters. He stared up at Brian with a confused look on his face.

"Oh, right," said Brian. "You can't read yet, can you?"

Richie shook his head, looking embarrassed.

"It's all right. I just wanted to show you this little poem here. It's one of your dad's favourites."

"Read it to me," said Richie, cuddling in close to him.

"Okay," said Brian, clearing his throat. "The sun was shining on the sea, shining with all its might: it did its very best to make the billows smooth and bright"

As Brian approached the middle of the poem, Richie's head began to loll and his eyelids drooped. Withing two minutes he had fallen fast asleep, curled up like a little monkey and breathing deeply. Brian chuckled, closed the book and put it down. He edged away from Richie and tucked him under the blankets properly.

Then he crept out of the room and shut the door.

"Goodnight, little buddy," he whispered into the dimly lit room. "Sweet dreams."

* * * *

The phone was ringing, filling the hallway, echoing off the walls, desperate to be answered. Brian hesitated for a moment. He knew it was John - there was no question about that - but there was a niggling worry in the corner of Brian's mind: What if something bad has happened?

Brian eventually gave in and answered the phone on its final ring.

"Hello?" he said, his voice hoarse.

"Hello? Brian?"

It was John!

"Hey, Johnny," Brian croaked. "How are you?"

"I'm all right, for the moment."

For the moment. What was that supposed to mean?

"What do you mean?" Brian asked.

"Well," John said, exhaling loudly, "the baby's nearly here. Another hour or so to go before it's officially born. At least, that's what this nurse told me, so she might be wrong."

"What the hell, John? It's been nearly eight hours!"

"I know, that's what I said! Apparently it takes a lot longer - sometimes even as long as twenty-four hours!"

Brian's mouth fell open. "What if Paul's in labour for that long?"

"I really don't know," John murmured. "I sincerely hope that's not the case."

"Me too."

There was a long pause. Brian began fiddling with the loose button on his shirt and thought about how he really needed to get it fixed. He then felt really bad. He was worrying about loose buttons when his best friend's lover was in excruciating pain. Surely that wasn't right.