__Mother May I?__
By Freerose
"Mother, may I have an ice cream?" Rupert asked. Eleanor gave up, as they passed the pushcart of frozen treats on their way across the park. There were always pitfalls when walking with a six-year-old.
"You may have one, but don't spoil your dinner, " She warned, placing the money in his hand and watching him run on his short little legs to claim his prize for being such a good boy during the Council meeting. Rupert was fairly well behaved, but the sights and sounds of London distracted him easily, keeping him entertained during his father's meetings had been
quite the chore.
Not to mention that she rarely spent this much uninterrupted time with her child, and had begun to wish that Nanny had been invited to come. The boy had so many questions, they cascaded out of his mouth like water from the tap, and he wanted to stop and try everything. Eleanor and her husband did not believe in inventing answers, so when Rupert would have a
question, the first thing Mummy would do was to find a tour guide, or palace guard, or pamphlet that explained things and made sure he drank up all the knowledge he seemed to seek.
"He'll make an excellent Watcher some day, " His father would say quietly. Eleanor would smile bravely and say, "Yes, he will, won't he." In less than a decade, he would officially begin his training as a teacher for the Slayer.
Eleanor sat down on a stone bench and folded her hands in her lap. Let him play for awhile, he deserved it.
"Is that your son?" The woman sitting next to her asked. She'd been so quiet that Eleanor wouldn't have even noticed her if she hadn't chosen to speak.
She was younger, and delicately thin, with olive skin and huge brown eyes. Her clothing and hair resembled a downmarket Jacqueline Kennedy, her suit was hunter green and her white gloved hands were pressed tightly together.
She smiled shyly.
"Yes, that's my Rupert."
"I have a little boy, myself. That's him, over there, " She pointed in the direction of a child who was running around in circles chasing a butterfly.
"Do you live in London?"
"No, his father is here on business. We live in Oxford. "
"What sort of business is your husband in?"
"I'm not at liberty to tell, "said Eleanor.
The other woman's eyes lit up.
"The Secret Service?" She giggled.
"Sometimes it feels that way," Eleanor agreed. "What does your husband do?"
"I don't have a husband, " She admitted. "His father-was-is-not interested in being a part of his life."
"Oh, I am sorry. I didn't mean to pry."
"It's not that bad, really. I try to spend as much time with my son as I can, we always visit the park after his doctor's appointment. "
"Oh, dear, is he-ill?" Eleanor inquired politely.
The boy was now rolling around in the grass, laughing to himself. His mother flushed.
"Psychiatrist. My mother thinks the source of his problems is his lack of a strong father figure, my father thinks he was dropped on his head as a baby.
My parents are paying for it. They've taken it upon themselves to "see to his proper upbringing". "
"In-laws can be quite bothersome, can't they?"
The little boy ran back over to his mother and tugged on her arm.
"Mummy, Mummy, that boy has ice cream, can I get some too? Can I? Can I? "He hopped up and down anxiously. He had the same dark eyes as his mother, the same thin frame and features, and a fashionable "Beatle" haircut.
The whole look gave the effect of a tiny changeling prince in modern clothing.
His mother fished around in her purse and extracted a few meager coins from her wallet.
"And tie your shoe."
The boy looked down at his ragged, dirty trainers, looked back up and grinned.
" `Kay, " and he ran away again.
**
"Rathberry, " The other boy said. The vendor handed him his ice cream and he turned to Rupert with a big, friendly smile. He was missing a front tooth.
"I like your plane. " He pointed at the plastic model airplane Rupert dangled from one hand.
"I made it myself. From a kit."
"I'm Ethan."
"Rupert."
"Do you like planes a whole lot?"
"I'm going to be a fighter pilot, "Rupert confided.
Ethan had ice cream all over his face now. He wiped it off with his sleeve and dropped the cone on the ground.
"I'm going to do magic, like Merlin in that Disney film. "
"With a long white beard and stupid purple robe?"
"No." Ethan sneered. "Don't be daft."
He seemed to get distracted by a worm crawling across the pathway. Ethan crouched down and let it slither onto his finger.
"Look." And he place it carefully onto Rupert's ice cream, "He's climbin' the Alps."
"The Alps aren't blue." The worm crawled onto Rupert's hand; the shock of its cold, slimy body on his skin made him drop his cone.
"So?"
"So you ruined my ice cream and now I can't eat it."
"I can climb all the way to the top of that wall, " said Ethan.
"Can't."
"Can. Wanna see? "
"My mother says it's too dangerous."
"I dare you. "
"I'll fall," Rupert protested.
Ethan folded his arms over his chest.
"I double dog dare you."
"You go first."
Ethan sauntered over to the wall and gripped the stones. He did manage to pull himself up, standing unsteadily on top of the six inches of space.
"What is he doing?" Ethan's mother cried, "Ethan, get down from there before you hurt yourself!"
"Rupert, come away from there!"
Ethan completely ignored his mother.
"Dare me to stand on my head?"
"Ethan-"
Just then Ethan slipped and lost his footing on the stones. He tumbled off the wall, hurtling toward the ground. The mothers raced over, Ethan's mother kneeling down next to her son's body. All Rupert could do was stare in horror.
To everyone's surprise, Ethan sat up slowly and rubbed his head. His mother checked him frantically for injuries, while Ethan seemed merely dazed.
"Mummy, I felled."
"Are you alright? I told you to get down from there!"
"I felled," Ethan kept repeating as his mother helped him to his feet and brushed him off. Rupert's own mother began lecturing him on reckless behavior.
"Look at your shirt, it's ripped!"
"Ripper!" Ethan snickered giddily.
"Come along, Ethan. Say goodbye to Rupert, "His mother said firmly. She grasped him by the hand and marched him away.
"BYE! " Ethan yelled.
* * *