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I heard part of what Uncle Tom told Dad about it. Not all of it, as a phone conversation with a bounce time of over twenty minutes is episodic. I heard none of what Dad said and only one monologue of Uncle's:
"Nonsense, sir! I am not dodging my own load of guilt; it will be with me always. Nor can I wait here until you arrive and you know it and you know why- and both children will be safer in Mr. Cunha's hands and not close to me ... and you know that, too! But I have a message for you, sir, one that you should pass on to your wife. Just this: people who will not take the trouble to raise children should not have them. You with your nose always in a book, your wife gallivanting off God knows where-between you, your daughter was almost killed. No credit to either of you that she wasn't. Just blind luck. You should tell your wife, sir, that building bridges and space stations and such gadgets is all very well ... but that a woman has more
important work to do. I tried to suggest this to you years ago... and was told to mind my own business. Now I am saying it. Your daughter will get well, no thanks to either of you. But I have my doubts about Clark. With him it may be too late. God may give you a second chance if you hurry. Ending transmission!"
I faded into - the woodwork then and didn't get caught. But what did Uncle Tom mean by that-hying to scare Dad about me? I wasn't hurt at all and he knows it. I just got a load of mud on me, not even a burn ... whereas Poddy still looks like a corpse and they've ~ot her piped and wired like a crèche.
I don t see what he was driving at.
I'm taking care of that baby fairy because Poddy will want to see it when she gets well enough to notice things again; she's always been a sentimentalist. It needs a lot of attention because it gets lonely and has to be held and cuddled, or it cries.
So I'm up a lot in the night-I guess it thinks I'm its mother. I don't mind, I don't have much else to do.
It seems to like me.