Chapter 14; Cousin Jemima

"We'll let the girls concern themselves with the dead and dying, there's the living to worry about still," said a great hulk of a man with dirty blond hair. His name was Edward; he was Jemima's older brother. It was odd, thinking of the two of them being, not just related, but from the same parents. They had similar personalities, but that was, really, where the similarity ended.

"You lot do a great job," a voice said from behind Humbert.

He turned in surprise. The voice was female – the owner was Jemima. Of course, she was the only girl who wouldn't register among the family as a girl, except when the mother's were matchmaking.

"Hey Jemima," Humbert said, pulling out a handkerchief and offering it to her.

Jemima was vehement in her claims of not being a girlie girl, and she did a pretty good job, but there were tracks down her face from crying anyway. She had admired Andrea's shrewdness, even if she wasn't keen on filling the traditional housewife role herself.

The woman sniffed and smiled wetly at the sight of the clean white linen square, taking it from the offering hand.

"Thanks," she said, cleaning herself up and blowing her nose. "I'll wash it before I give it back," Jemima added, looking at it when she was done. It went into her pocket.

Humbert nodded and turned back to his dad, the reason he was here. He had to do something to take his mind off it all…

"Dad, you want a hand on your latest vintage while we wait for the docs to tell us the bad news?" Humbert suggested quietly, wrapping an arm around his father's shoulders. They were thinner than he remembered too.

"Hmm? Yeah, yeah that sounds good. Andrea just got me another one the other week; I've hardly touched it yet," Harold said, coming to himself for a moment.

Everyone migrated to the garage. There wasn't much room, so Edward and another relative of similar build, called Duncan, rolled the car out into the driveway and the light.

It had once been a beautiful car, and it would be again. Everyone worked on it, even Jemima. She was gofer, fetching tools, parts, and cold drinks as they were asked for. By five o'clock, the only thing left to do to the car was re-upholster the seats and give it a new coat of paint.

Humbert had to go, but Jemima promised to stay with Harold, and call him the instant there was anything new to know. He thanked her, and with a last hug for each her and his father, climbed into his own vintage car – there wasn't room enough in his father's garage to keep all the cars he restored, most of them he gave to family members when they turned twenty – and drove home.

Humbert was barely through his front door when a chocolate coloured streak of lightning raced towards him and leapt at his chest.

"That isn't like you, Haru," he said, holding her and stroking her ears with one hand while he closed the door with the other. "Not that I mind, of course," he added, kissing her furry cheek and walking into the kitchen.

Haru put her paws up on his shoulder and looked at him the same way she had when he pulled her out of the bin – just a little frightened.

"Mum probably won't make it through the night, and cousin Jemima is staying with Dad, she'll call when it happens," Humbert answered to the look.

Haru butted her head against Humbert's chin affectionately, being as sympathetic and consoling as she could. The beeping of the microwave finishing interrupted the tender moment. Haru let herself down from the man's arms.

Surprised by the sound of the microwave, Humbert followed the cat into the kitchen. He was even more surprised to see her pushing the button to open the microwave and towing out one of Humbert's frozen dinners.