Mrs. Rimmer is having One Of Those Days.

She's just received very bad news indeed, bad in the sense that it was about to chuck a stone into the nicely symmetrical garden of her family's existence. Not to mention that it's the day before her four sons head back to school, the worst possible timing.

And now this:

"You can't quit, Mrs. Maitland, we need you too much. The boys..."

"Are out of control. Which I've tried to tell you before, but...

Mrs. Rimmer speaks over this; she really doesn't have the time to stand here arguing with anyone, much less her housekeeper. "I know having to deal with their little friends coming over during the holiday must have been quite..."

At this point, the housekeeper does some interrupting of her own. "It's not their friends."

"Well," Mrs. Rimmer says automatically, "I'll have a talk with Arnold."

"It's not Arnold either. Arnold is the least of it."

Mrs. Rimmer manages to control her temper, reminding herself that she needs to leave soon, and she can't, as much as she wants, spend any time defending her three precious other boys. She has to do something - she really can't cope with losing yet another housekeeper, especially with the news she's just gotten.

"Mrs. Maitland, as you know, the boys start back at school tomorrow, and I apologize if they've been rather...high spirited lately..."

"Well, that's one way to put it," the housekeeper comments dryly.

"...but my brother-in-law and his wife just passed away, and we have to take their daughter. She's Arnold's age; they'll be in the same class, and I know she won't be any trouble."

"The poor lamb. I'm very sorry for your loss, Mrs. Rimmer, but..."

"She'll be on the same schedule as Arnold, too - remember, first thing when he gets home, he's to sit down and do all his homework before anything else. We don't want a repeat of last term."

The housekeeper frowns. "Mrs. Rimmer, if I may speak freely, perhaps your son would have done better if he wasn't being bullied."

"By his classmates, I know, it's an ongoing - issue, but what do you expect me to do about it? Say I go in and make a fuss, and the children in question are disciplined, who do you think they'll take it out on later?"

"Actually, I meant by his brothers." The housekeeper's tone is grimly patient. She knows where this is heading.

"Now that's absurd. All siblings bicker. They're simply a little...boisterous. Anyway, I'll speak to them about behaving better in the future, and I'm more than happy to make the addition of an extra child worth your while. Though I really don't expect her to be any trouble."

"I don't want to leave you in the lurch," the housekeeper lies. "And you're right, girls tend to be easier. At any age."

Yes, Mrs. Rimmer thinks, which is why she had planned on having one after she'd given her husband a son and heir. But somehow things had gotten bollixed up, and now she has four "high spirited" boys.

"Why don't we discuss your salary later when there's more time. I really must leave to get the girl, and I'll be taking Arnold, so that will be one less child for you to worry about today."

"That's satisfactory, but as I told you before, Arnold is not..."

But Mrs. Rimmer is already marching away, calling for her youngest son to come right this minute, no dawdling, they have to go, and she doesn't hear the final words.

"...the problem."

His mother's high heels stab the corridor as she propels him by the arm down a series of lookalike halls. Arnold Rimmer has no idea where they're going, but his mother, as usual, doesn't have that problem. She knows exactly what their destination is and doubtless, the most convenient way to reach it.

It smells nasty in here, and the fact that he can't see or hear any kids at all is spooky. But it's better than being home trying to avoid his brothers and their friends. And it's definitely better than being back in school.

"Why do they call it a Home?" he asks.

"Because it sounds a lot nicer than calling it an orphanage," his mother replies shortly. But at least she gives him an answer.

All this does is raise more questions. Such as why didn't my parents ever tell me that I had a cousin? Or an uncle? Why aren't there any photos?

"What's my cousin's name?" he asks, choosing what he hopes is the least inflammatory of his questions.

"Aurora. She's just your age, and remember, I'll be counting on you to help her settle in, especially at school where she won't know anybody."

"I will, but she won't like Mr. Truitt."

'Now what's wrong with Mr. Truitt? You've never even had him before." His mother's voice sounds like she's losing patience, but this time he has a good answer.

"No, but John did, remember?" He braces himself for his mother's indignation, though for once it won't be directed at him.

"Oh. That ghastly man." His mother grimaces. "He had the nerve to accuse John of cheating. Cheating!"

But maybe he really did cheat, Arnold thinks, though he knows better than to say this out loud.

"Anyway, your job this term is to get those marks up. Don't make me sorry I went and pulled strings with the headmaster not to keep you back."

"I won't." At least, I'll try, he thinks, but that never seems to make any difference. Try was a term right up there with "focus," something to vow to do but never actually accomplish.

"What do her parents do, I mean did?" he asks, hoping to change the subject.

"Her mother is...was in the Space Corps. I believe her father had some job with a pharmaceutical company at one point."

"But why haven't we met them?"

"Because your father had a falling out with her father."

"Why'd they have a falling out?"

"I've no idea," his mother says in a tone that indicates she knows perfectly well but isn't going to reveal anything.

"Why are we taking her? Aurora?" Again that seems one of the least dangerous questions, though with his mother, you never knew.

"Because no one else will," his mother snaps.

Well, Arnold thinks, that clears that up.

"But if anyone asks," she says, fixing him with the gimlet gaze he knows all-too-well, "tell them that it's the least we can do." She halts before a door and raps smartly against it. "We're here. Let's get this over with as soon as possible."

End