Rated R: Discussion of a Sexual Nature

Author's Note: Please bear with me through this chapter, but there are certain details that needed to be explained...

My Darling Love

Chapter 34 – The Finest Lover in All of London

"The best love affairs are those we never had."

-Norman Lindsay

"I never was with two women at the same time, well at least not alone. On the day in question, it was their idea, and their idea to do it in our parlor with you gone for the day. I was too afraid of being caught, and quite uncomfortable with what they had in mind. It's a lot of pressure for a man like myself in that way, and really a rather unpleasant proposal if you ask me. I didn't even have to lie, for there was no way I could perform under such circumstances, and so they pleasured themselves and made me watch. Please don't ask me what they did, because I kept my eyes closed and tried to keep from getting sick. I never knew you found Peter's wife here, she said nothing when she met up with us later in the evening.

"She used the washroom when they were done and I was quite anxious to leave, so I just ran out with Vivian and told her aunt to catch up. You must believe me that not in a million years did I want to bring that into our home, let alone have you find any of us here. But then I saw the rug changed when I arrived home later and waited for the confrontation that never came." George exhaled out and lowered his head, "Mary," he scrunched his face, almost in terror to ask, but he had to, "What did she tell you happened?"

"I came in the door and she was lying on the rug nude, George, she really didn't have to tell me anything." Mary suddenly pulled the blankets up over her head and continued, sounding almost squeaky in her tone even muffled below the covers, "She told me you were a rather adventurous lover."

George waited several tense moments, but that was it. "That's all she said?" he queried, gently moving the blankets to see her face.

"Do I have to repeat it, George? If you said nothing happened, I'll take your word."

Curiosity killed the cat, but George was braver and more skilled in his astute resolve at discovery, gently he asked, "Yes, Mary, we are to be honest with one another now, and since it was spoken about me, I want to know. What did she say?"

George really shouldn't have pressed, for Mary got up and ran to the bathroom, tossing her half digested breakfast-in-bed into the toilet. Mary soon returned with fresh breath, brushing her teeth like the lady she was. She did not sit back down only held her hands over her eyes as she finally recounted.

"She told me you bent them both over on the sofa and switched back and forth between them. Then when you finished, you let them both taste you. You watched as they, well, George, did their own business and you participated again by, oh God give me strength..." Mary sat down suddenly on the bed, now breathless, needing a moment to compose herself before giving the last details. "I am not sure how to say this, but Peter's wife suspected you were surely a fairy for what you asked her to do to you." Mary raised her eyes to George, who was watching her. Seeing he was clueless to her hint, she blurted, "While you were being intimate with Vivian, you told Peter's wife to stick her forefinger in your arse."

George stared at his wife for one full minute. Mary was sure of the time, for she counted each second. She reached sixty, and it was George's turn now, for he got sick all over his clothes, the bed, the floor and Mary as well.

They were both covered from head to toe in vomit, and had to laugh, for that was the only thing that left for them to do, so they did. They laughed together all the way to the washroom, while Mary ran George a bath and cleaned up the bedroom as he soaked. They laughed and joked about the ridiculous absurdity such a thing was.

The tub was drained and as Mary wiped it clean, ran more water and climbed in herself, they still laughed. "How foolish it is, George, not something a proper gentleman would ever allow!" Mary commented, and George's laughter ceased.

His silence said it all, and Mary, dumbfounded beyond all innocent understanding, began to cry. As experienced in womanhood as she thought she was, this revelation brought her to tears. "I'll make you some tea to calm your stomach," George offered and fled downstairs to the kitchen. Mary cried for an hour in that tub, she sat in it until the water was chilled, all the while, George hid by the stove, watching over a steaming teakettle.

George gathered his nerve and came up the stairs carrying two cups of piping hot tea to his bedroom, finding Mary holding the blankets clutched to her neck. George could tell by her expression she had more questions and he nodded his head with a look of distress and she spoke, "Are you a fairy, George?"

George was aghast, not at all the line of interrogation he'd imagined while in the kitchen, his reply to that was simple, "Well no, Mary, not at all."

"You were with two women and someone else, you said? Another man? I have no idea what that could mean except the obvious?"

George reaffixed his spectacles, knowing this would take awhile. "Yes, but before I explain the situation further, I really have to throw up again." He fled from the room after handing her two teacups with his hand on his mouth, and hacked into the washroom sink. He rushed back in quickly and sat down beside her. With his eyes shut tight he repeated quickly and without taking a breath, "Before I go any further, everything Peter's wife said was completely false. As far as all of us together, that was some time before the start of the affair. I had at Peter's wife, and he had at Vivian while we were all in the same room at the hotel. I couldn't really perform then, either, and she made fun of me for losing my erection. Then we switched back to the other's lover, and, because I was thinking of you -- and you must believe me that I was -- I was able to finish." Before Mary could utter a word of response, he fled back to the bathroom for more heaving.

George slowly peeked into their room to see Mary's expression before he entered, he expected the worst, but found her no worse for the wear. "George, no need to make yourself sick with unease. I just want to understand what drew you to her and away from me. Please help me understand, so I can accept it and change the parts of me that need changing."

He told her she need not change anything. He conceded that he was jealous of all the attention she gave the children, and understood all of her reasons. His acceptance and forgiveness in her small accidental wrongs were easier to attain.

Mary regarded him with understanding. "You told me you were unhappy and I did nothing. You said last night, we should just not move on without resolving everything that brought us to this place. You are right; we should do it and we will do it together. You should be honest and not afraid your words will hurt, for sometimes the truth needs to hurts."

George nodded and rested back on the bed. He was aware of her delicate nature, aware that the dents he'd made upon her armor must be mended. "Ask me anything and I will give you the honest answer."

"Would you like a finger in your arse, George?"

George was in mid sip of his tea, and spouted it out all over his wife, once again causing her to laugh aloud. George was not amused, in fact, quite humiliated and he rested his head on the bed and began to cry.

"George, I wasn't laughing at you. Just the tea." Mary bent over her husband and hugged him tightly to her. "If you don't want to tell me, that's alright, but if is something you enjoy and you want me to do that to you, I guess I could try."

George perked his head up and quietly responded in all seriousness, "No, Mary, I would rather you not."

His wife giggled a little doing her best to contain the outright guffaw she wished to expel from her stomach, seeing his shocked expression. "Yes, George, my nails are far too long. I will cut them, George, and keep them short and dulled."

Mary looked down to her husband as she gave her declaration, proudly nodding her head to show him her earnestness. George touched her hands and smoothed them out over his own, "No, I like them long. Keep them long and feminine for me." He sat up and turned to her as he wiped his face, "Vivian was not as talented as you in your oral pleasures, therefore, I criticized her once when she was in the act. At the moment I was to finish, she did that to me."

Mary sat next to George, "Well, what happened?"

George shrugged his shoulders, "Nothing, I finished and told her never to do that to me again, and never to tell a soul she did it in the first place. There are things on a man's body that should never be touched by a woman, Mary, and that is one of them. I ask you kindly not to joke about it."

Mary finally understood, and she felt foolish for laughing, for it was not a funny story. It was an insult to a gentleman's sense of self, and her husband felt less a man for having his private matters invaded in that way. "George, I am so sorry. I didn't mean to attack your dignity. I always thought that you took pleasure in what you were doing with her. I didn't know, but I understand now and I will speak of it no more." Mary embraced George who sat stiff as a board, his body tensed from the suit of armor around him.

"There were plenty of other things she did that I didn't like," George whispered, giving Mary the opening to begin a new conversation in her favor, so she took it, "Like what George?"

George moved back and rested his head on his pillow, tugging Mary to follow suit. With her in place, he began, "She wasn't you, and she knew it, but still she always acted as if we were husband and wife. She was very needy, not an independent woman with her own mind. 'I like whatever you like, George,' she used to tell me all the time."

"Can I ask you something, George? I heard a lot of rumors and gossip, and they all said the same thing. When you were with her, you were seemed the happiest that anyone had ever seen you. You were all about the town with her on your arm, eating out, going shopping, and all the other things. Were you truly that happy?" Mary gazed at George, the moment of truth had come, and now he was to tell the truth or would surely burn in the fires of hell forever.

He shifted his head to his wife, who already had tears filling her beautiful eyes ready at a moment's notice to flood down her face. "When would I have had the time to be so happy? I only saw her during the week, Tuesdays we ate dinner together, and everything that was to transpire, such as gift giving and, well Mary, times of intimacy usually took place then. We had lunch together maybe twice a week, usually on Tuesday, planning for the evening and Mondays for she was eager to hear of my weekend. We met on Friday mornings because she insisted she see me to wish me well on the weekend, and because she had not seen me all week as well. I did not mind her company, and at the time I will admit I looked forward to seeing her for she showered with me with attention, like a little puppy who waits at the front door for its master all day. Which is also why I gave her gifts and sent her flowers, I felt sorry for her, for she always complained she was lonely and unloved. But I would not say I was that happy when I was with her, more so just mildly content."

Mary reared her head back and glared at George, "What of the parties and dinners and her being at your beck and call, George? And the living room, and the hotel room with Peter and his wife, and the chocolate covered strawberries, and the dressing room at the boutique and in the bushes in the park and in the cemetery on your father's headstone?" Mary's voice was very hostile, and she rose from the bed, yanking her robe off the chair fitting it on.

"My father's headstone? Bushes in the park? What are you talking about, Mary? Have you gone mad?" George's eyes bulged from his head and he jumped up to block Mary's exit from their room.

"You were with her intimately plenty more times than just on Tuesdays George, you told me yourself. Why are you lying, you told me we are to be honest, and still you will not give me the truth?" Mary had her robe on and she shoved her husband as hard as she could, but George, already fully suited in steel, he did not budge.

"I told you we were intimate in that way on occasion, not every single time we were together, or every Tuesday evening for the matter. In fact, Mary, I told you it was more than we were having only because it was. From Christmas to that night with Michael we had not made love once."

Mary continued to push her way past him. "Well how many times then, George? Shall I count?" George stepped back and with all his might pushed Mary back into the room causing her to land on her fanny.

"Sorry, Mary," he said, as she was up and to the door he had just shut once more trying to leave. Still in her way he replied, "You want to count? How would you know? You were not there. I was there and frankly, fine, Mary, I have nothing to hide. The first time when we met, the time with Peter's wife, four maybe five times after dinner on Tuesday, the one time in our living room, although I can hardly count that because I just watched, once, twice," he actually counted on his fingers, "three, four, no three, but no more than four times, no I'm sure it was only three times on a Friday mornings. So that's one plus the one is two, add the five is seven, add the one is, no I'm not adding that one is still seven, and then add the three is ten. I committed adultery ten times Mary."

"Liar! You are a liar George!" Mary slapped George in his chest; now struggling with whatever strength she could muster to move past him.

"What did you think I was doing with her, Mary, just having sex? I never even considered my greatest sin being intimate with her, I thought that sharing the part of myself that was yours you were talking about was the part that sat at the kitchen table after supper and kept company with you. I spoke to her of my life and shared my feelings with her, that is the worse sin, not a few lustful liaisons we shared, and then only to release the tension of her constant pleading."

Mary stopped struggling, and stepped back, "Are you telling me you only gave her your favor because she asked for it?" George nodded his head. "But only last night you said you made what you were doing obvious so I would find out."

"Aside from the receipts that I left in plain view and a few handkerchiefs and shirts I purposely dropped in the hamper for you to find, I didn't go around in public with her on my arm, Mary. The only time I was seen with her was in a place such as a restaurant or a park bench chatting. The other things we did together, we did behind closed doors and away from prying eyes. There were no chocolate covered strawberries. I'm allergic to strawberries, and the dressing room in a boutique? I never took her shopping."

"I think you are the one who has lost your mind, George? Did you not tell me she was at your beck and call?"

George nodded his head and clarified, "Yes, she always told me whenever I wanted to see her she would drop everything for us to be together."

Mary had one hand on the doorknob, the other on her hip, "I saw your name myself, almost everyday on the reservation lists of several restaurants, flowers came to this house signed in your hand, I saw the receipts and the bills."

George nodded toward Mary, "And you added the totals, believe me, Mary you could not live alone in a flat in the seedy part of London for a week on what I spent. If I was wining and dining her all over London, Mary, I would be in the poor house. I still have to pay all the expenses here and continue to invest into our savings. I did not steal one penny from this house, our children nor any of our other accounts. I used my own allowance."

Mary dipped her head to George as well, "The jewelry, the shawl, the perfume, the flowers..."

"The shawl I bought for you, an early birthday present, but she begged me for it, so I just gave it to her. The perfume as well, she told me she wanted to smell like you. Not exactly like you, more so she wanted to wear a proper fragrance for a lady as opposed to the strong scent she wore that made her smell like a prostitute, for that's what others had told her. The jewelry I did purchase for her, a simple set, she retrieved herself and improved upon from her own funds. The flowers were a simple bouquet of..."

Mary held her hand to George's mouth as dawn broke over her thoughts. "The flowers I received here at the house were grand arrangement of pink roses."

George spoke through her hand offering, "I would never give anyone but you pink roses, Mary. I sent her daisies."

Mary quickly moved from the doorway to her vanity. There within the top drawer where she kept her makeup brushes, she lifted a secret hidden compartment, crafted to conceal the most priceless possessions that not a soul knew existed up until that moment except herself. She removed a simple piece of her stationary covered in writing front to back with lists of dates and times. "Here, George." Mary handed it to him and he eagerly gave it a once over.

"What is this?" he asked, halfway through the first side.

"That is every day that I heard or saw mention of you or your name in passing. Whether it be a rumor, or a restaurant, George, it's there." George held the paper out in front of him and let it drift into the air to the floor. "Oh my God, Mary..." He clutched his chest and then bent at the waist falling to the floor. George was a writhing mess in agony crying out as if someone had just stabbed him in his heart. George gazed to where the paper landed by his face.

March 16th – George at Benson's (lunch/ML)

March 16th - George at Holly Dove's (dinner/dancing/ML)

March 17th – George dress shopping (lunch/ML)

March 17th – George in Park/ML

March 17th – George's late night at bank – Finnegan's Pub (ML)

March 18th – George at Christine's breakfast

March 18th – George out all day with mistress – seen at La Blanche

March 19th – George at Finnegan's lunch/dress shopping

The list went on from there. Every single day from mid January right through to Wendy's birthday listed something else, several items listed to one day and most days listed "ML."

"What does ML mean Mary?" George already knew the answer as Mary knelt down beside him and rubbed his head.

"Made love."

George rolled on his side and away from her, "What makes you think that was when it happened?"

Mary followed him and did her best to comfort him, for he was still in excruciating pain. "Because those days you were signed in as a guest in Peter's room at the hotel or elsewhere. I was not the only one watching; George, my father and Aunt Millicent and all her upper class friends had similar lists. After you were caught red handed, they turned theirs over to me and I compiled this one. A lunch reservation at one and then promptly at one thirty you were signed in as a guest somewhere."

George sat up and did his best to catch his breath. He glanced to his wife who was well composed. With all she had seen and experienced proven in her record keeping, George was sure she would be enraged at his betrayal. But still she looked to him as if she was expecting him to see the same thing she did. And as he went to speak in his defense and deny these allegations against him he realized, she had already spoken her accusations. She was no longer calling him a liar nor was she screaming at him like she had when they engaged in battle. Mary was waiting patiently for him to regain his vision and remove his blindfold.

"I have lunch at one, I never go any further than the café around the block, for it takes me ten minutes there and back total, leaving me half an hour to eat and ten minutes to use the lavatory when I return and another ten minutes to prepare for my afternoon work." George stood and went to his dresser to retrieve his pen. He circled every time the name of the café was listed, every Monday and Tuesday at one. He crossed off a few he circled, randomly explaining, "Business lunch...held over at a meeting...ate at my desk..."

Every lunch appointment that had a specific description of an event that took place after the time of 1:40 pm promptly, George slashed away, "When I leave for lunch I always return twenty minutes early, to assure I am never late."

George did the same for dinner and Friday mornings, "No I always made sure I was home promptly by nine on Tuesdays to see the children before they went to bed, and on Friday mornings, I made sure I was heading off to work by half past seven as not to be tardy to my station at the bank." He also laughed a little under Mary's watchful eye as he went. "I NEVER saw her on the weekends, they belong to my family ... I never even heard of this eatery Mary ... You and I were together on this very day, do you not remember taking John to get new spectacles? ... This day as well, we had to go see Michael's professor ... and this one too, we took Nana to be groomed."

Every so often, while examining Mary's hard work in keeping track of her husband's mysterious whereabouts he would query, "My father's headstone?" Mary shrugged her shoulders and replied, "A friend of the grocer's daughter said she saw you there, you know, George, in that way."

It was always a friend of someone's, or passing acquaintance of Mary who provided the locations which George scoffed as, "Rumors and gossip, probably made up." But there were things he could not explain away as falsehoods of the imagination or could he? "I never, Mary, not once ever signed in as guest of any Hotel. It is true that we did not always go to Peter's hotel, for sometimes it was too far with too little time, but just the same, I still used Peter's name when I registered. Nor did I ever take Vivian dress shopping. If I remember correctly, she did need a gown for a dinner party Peter was having and I stopped by the seamstress early in the morning and paid an account in advance for one simple gown. She bought several with shoes and these needless accessories, and I told her she would have to return them. I would not even allow Wendy to spend so much money and I always insist she be presented in the best. She pouted and my brother Peter told me he would pay the difference."

"Peter..." Mary repeated his name, realization again dawning. "George, is Peter allergic to strawberries?"

George shrugged his shoulders, "I don't think so, and he delights in them....dipped in chocolate."

George closed his eyes after removing his glasses and rubbed his face. Mary got up and extended her hand to help him rise as well. Instead of standing, he knelt and wrapped his arms around her waist. "You thought that I was doing all of this? I don't know if I should be sorry for making you think that, only reaffirming what's written on this paper by my words yesterday, or simply furious at you for thinking it possible at all."

Mary held him back and kissed his head, "Peter tortured me mercilessly, George, please do not be angry with me for thinking it possible. I knew you were unhappy with me, I knew I was purposely withholding my affections from you. I was punishing you for Paris. I'm sorry." George held her tighter, squeezing her to him with all his might. She nuzzled his head. "So it seems now that this was not at all what I thought it was, for in the end, Peter still wins."

"How so, Mary?" George asked as she withdrew from his embrace, picking up her list of interludes that never were.

"Because I don't know who you truly are anymore. For so long I thought you were someone else and treated you as such. Only to discover, you were the same person all along, or were you? I have so many questions that I fear there are no answers for." Mary stood by her bedroom window waiting for the knight in shining armor to ride up on his horse and save the day.

But the knight was not to make his entrance valiantly from the street, for he was already inside. George rested his head over her shoulder and offered, "Ask me anything, Mary, and I will tell you who I am."

She asked her questions and he answered them, one by one. The longer their discussion went on, the more relieved they both became, for it took place in a gentle tone now, without the accusations or lies, only complete and unrelenting understanding and acceptance. George was freed of his secrets, and now Mary again knew everything there was to know about her husband. And Mary was reassured that there was no way a comparison could be made between her and the French whore.

The last questions were for the both of them and had to be answered before the passion they were both eager to engage in could begin. "What will we tell the children?" he asked.

"So now our children are aware that you were an adulterer, no matter how brief or unimportant it was. And they saw me die a thousands deaths holding whatever it was I was feeling, anger, disappointment, sadness, slight, malice, whatever it is, inside of me. I don't ever want our children to think this is an acceptable way to live."

"Whether I chose to believe it, I am as my father made me. He beat my mother, and I hit you." Mary grabbed George's arm and hushed him, telling him that old wounds need not be opened to repair new ones, but George continued, because this was a significant fact that needed to be settled. "I always looked up to Peter, he was my hero. He had the best profession, plenty of money, and was well liked by all that knew him. He engaged in lurid behavior after he married that witch he calls a wife, and tempted me into it. I never knew he was a monster, Mary, or I would have never brought him around you, let alone our children. I thought it best to mimic his behavior and then people would think me the same as him. And I got just what I deserved. I swear I don't even know who he is anymore, and this is who I attempted to model myself after."

Mary rubbed George's back lovingly, he was not the only one burdened with the circumstances of birth and upbringing.

"My mother made me who I am, my father cheated on her all the time with many women and she accepted it without question. She ignored it and carried on without a word, even though I told her she was crazy to do so. And when you did the same thing, I acted just as she would have. With one difference. Unlike my mother, I have strength of mind and am very hard headed. I'll admit it is a dreadful combination, for when my dam breaks and the flood of rage begins, I can inflict quite a lot of pain before I realize my wrongdoing, as you are now fully aware. Luckily for me, you have a caring heart that repairs itself quickly."

It was a charming scene, George and Mary Darling sitting in their nightclothes in the late afternoon on their bed, chatting about their trouble with loving hearts, with no thought but each other and the ones dearest to them. "Well, if Wendy's husband ever strays, I'll just kill him. And if John or Michael ever cheat on their wives, well I'll just have to kill them, too," George offered, the valiant knight of the kingdom now returned.

His comment and stern expression made Mary giggle, "You can't kill our children, you'll be saying rosaries forever!" She hit him with her pillow and knocked his spectacles from his face. They both broke out into laughter, and then fell into each other's arms.

"I think we should tell them, that they know and have experienced enough to make a judgment for themselves on the importance of the wedding vows a husband and wife take, and why they take them in the first place. There is no choice involved in honoring them or not. Not that anything in a loving marriage should be considered a duty, more so a desire to always do what's best for your partner. There should be no secrets and no hiding. Think of all that could have been saved if I had just said something," George said, shaking his head.

"Think of all that could have been saved, if I had just done something, George. And I agree about the children, they are grown-ups now. Wendy wants to go to a writer's college in America, and I think she should, she's very talented. John is already going to University in the fall and will become a banker. Michael wants to enlist in the military as soon as he's able, although with his interest in history, I think he would do better to become a professor of the subject." Mary ran her fingers through George's hair and when she passed them down his face he caught sight of a few broken nails, filed shorter than the others and healing bruise that was much darker, he was sure, a few days earlier that he had failed to notice.

"From your meeting with Peter?" George queried.

"Yes, he stopped by and attempted to have his way with me on the sofa. I kicked him where it hurts a man most. And then I told him if he dare step foot in our house or anywhere near you again, I would kick him there until he was dead. He started kissing my feet and pulling on my skirt when he recovered and begged me to take him up to our room so he could show me what a real man felt like and teach me how to reach completion or some such nonsense, like all scoundrels do."

Mary pulled George up to hear her better, and her next statement made him chuckle. "Really, George, your brother must think me wicked. I told him, George, I did, however unladylike it is, that youhit the correct place on my womanhood every single solitary time we make love. And if you fail the first time, your manhood stands at attention again, waiting to go back up inside of me, that you were extremely well endowed in personal measure, and you have the only key that would ever unlock me. He was actually dumbfounded! Stunned silly to hear a lady such as myself speak of such things so frankly and without reserve."

"Your hand?" George held her hand that held the injury and kissed it.

"Oh yes, so then he called you impotent, because you refused to continue on with that girl. So I lost my temper and bashed him a good one and then he raised his hand to me..."

George hearing this rose from the bed with his hands on his hips and glared down at Mary. "Oh, don't worry, George, John came home that very moment, and he called for Uncle Peter to turn around, because you told him to never hit a man from the back. So Peter turned around and laughed at John, calling him a wimp like his father, and then John punched him in the jaw. He fell over like a ton a bricks and bled all over my new rug."

"Your nails, dearest?" George asked, afraid to know the answer. "Oh yes, I called a cab and then John and I assisted him into it. Wouldn't you know it, he was back an hour later wanting to challenge John to a duel using pistols! Can you imagine? Well, I told him that I'd warned him to never return to this house again, so I scratched the hell out of Peter's face and broke my nails. When that didn't work, I kicked him again where it hurts. I wanted to keep kicking him, but John pulled me off. Then our son kicked him out on his bum."

"And where was I when all this was going on?" George was shocked, and sat back down as Mary urged him to.

"That was the day Aunt Millicent needed an escort on the train from London to wherever it was Margaret hid. Remember? She got that anonymous letter that told of her location that very morning. Grandpa Joe couldn't go, so you took a day off of work to help her. I never allowed myself to be left alone so I kept John home from school that day while Grandpa Joe off on his own holiday."

"Margaret," was all George could manage.

"What ever of Margaret?" Mary watched George rise and begin to dress with a quizzical expression.

"I'll explain in the carriage to Millicent's" George threw Mary her dress and began to pull up his pants when he caught Mary's wanting gaze.

"Right now? Do we have to go right now?"

George stopped and smiled, as disappointed as she was. "Yes, we have to. I promise that tonight I will make it up to you, but before we put the past in the past, live in the present and look forward to the future, we have to rid ourselves of one last evil. Come on, Mary, get dressed."

To make sure she was not devastated and accepted his offer for a rain check on their passions, he threw her bloomers at her. They landed on her head and when she pulled them off, she stuck her tongue out at him. "Why are we going to see Millicent now?"

"If anyone can keep Peter safely out of our lives forever, it will be your Aunt Millicent. You trust me don't you, please say you do."

"Yes George I trust you."