There was a Roman from Vinidium Whose shirt was made of iridium;When asked why the vest, He replied, "Id est Bonum sanguinem praesidium."
Meggie's lips twitched. "I'm going to hate myself for asking, but what did the Roman say?" was "It's a bloody good protection." his "Is that all? I thought it was going to be a lot worse. You surprise me. But getting back to what we were saying, dear girl, in spite of your neat effort to change the subject, what's wrong with marriage?" Justine imitated her grandmother's rare snort of ironic laughter. "Mum! Really! You're a fine one to ask that, I must say."
Meggie felt the blood well up under her skin, and looked down at the tray of bright-green trees. "Don't be impertinent, even if you are a ripe old seventeen."
"Isn't it odd?" Justine asked the mixing bowl. "The minute one ventures onto strictly parental territory, one becomes impertinent. I just said: You're a fine one to ask. Perfectly true, dammit! I'm not necessarily implying you're a failure, or a sinner, or worse. Actually I think you've shown remarkable good sense, dispensing with your husband. What have you needed one for? There's been tons of male influence for your children with the Unks around, you've got enough money to live on. I agree with you! Marriage is for the birds."
"You're just like your father!"
"Another evasion. Whenever I displease you, I become just like my father. Well, I'll have to take your word for that, since I've never laid eyes on the gentleman."
"When are you leaving?" Meggie asked desperately. Justine grinned. "Can't wait to get rid of me, eh? It's all right, Mum, I don't blame you in the least. But I can't help it, I just love shocking people, especially you. Hew about taking me into the 'drome tomorrow?" "Make it the day after. Tomorrow I'll take you to the bank. You'd better know how much you've got. And, Justine . . ." Justine was adding flour and folding expertly, but she looked up at the change in her mother's voice. "Yes.
"If ever you're in trouble, come home, please. We've always got room for you on Drogheda, I want you to remember that. Nothing you could ever do would be so bad you couldn't come home."
Justine's gaze softened. "Thanks, Mum. You're not a bad old stick underneath, are you?"
"Old?" gasped Meggie. "I am not old! I'm only forty-three!" "Good Lord, as much as that?"
Meggie hurled a cookie and hit Justine on the nose. "Oh, you wretch!" she laughed. "What a monster you are! Now I feel like a hundred."
Her daughter grinned.
At which moment Fee walked in to see how things in the cookhouse were going; Meggie hailed her arrival with relief.
"Mum, do you know what Justine just told me?" Fee's eyes were no longer up to anything beyond the uttermost effort of keeping the books, but the mind at back of those smudged pupils was as acute as ever.
"How could I possibly know what Justine just told you?" she inquired mildly, regarding the green cookies with a slight shudder. "Because sometimes it strikes me that you and Jussy have little secrets from me, and now, the moment my daughter finishes telling me her news, in you walk when you never do."
"Mmmmmm, at least they taste better than they look," commented Fee, nibbling. "I assure you, Meggie, I don't encourage your daughter to conspire with me behind your back. What have you done to upset the applecart now, Justine?" she asked, turning to where Justine was pouring her sponge mixture into greased and floured tins. "I told Mum I was going to be an actress, Nanna, that's all." "That's all, eh? Is it true, or only one of your dubious jokes?" "Oh, it's true. I'm starting at the Culloden."
"Well, well, well!" said Fee, leaning against the table and surveying her own daughter ironically. "Isn't it amazing how children have minds of their own, Meggie?"
Meggie didn't answer.
"Do you disapprove, Nanna?" Justine growled, ready to do battle. "I? Disapprove? It's none of my business what you do with your life, Justine. Besides, I think you'll make a good actress."
"You do?" gasped Meggie.
"Of course she will," said Fee. "Justine's not the sort to choose unwisely, are you, my girl?"
"No." Justine grinned, pushing a damp curl out of her eye. Meggie watched her regarding her grandmother with an affection she never seemed to extend to her mother.
"You're a good girl, Justine," Fee pronounced, and finished the cookie she had started so unenthusiastically. "Not bad at all, but I wish you'd iced them in white."
"You can't ice trees in white," Meggie contradicted. "Of course you can when they're firs; it might be snow," her mother said. "Too late now, they're vomit green," laughed Justine. "Justine!"
"Ooops! Sorry, Mum, didn't mean to offend you. I always forget you've got a weak stomach."
"I haven't got a weak stomach," said Meggie, exasperated. "I came to see if there was any chance of a cuppa,"
Fee broke in, pulling out a chair and sitting down. "Put on the kettle, Justine, like a good girl."
Meggie sat down, too. "Do you really think this will work out for Justine, Mum?" she asked anxiously.
"Why shouldn't it?" Fee answered, watching her granddaughter attending to the tea ritual.
"It might be a passing phase."
"Is it a passing phase, Justine?" Fee asked.
"No," Justine said tersely, putting cups and saucers on the old green kitchen table.
"Use a plate for the biscuits, Justine, don't put them out in their barrel," said Meggie automatically, "and for pity's sake don't dump the whole milk can on the table, put some in a proper afternoon tea jug." "Yes, Mum, sorry, Mum," Justine responded, equally mechanically. "Can't see the point of frills in the kitchen. All I've got to do is put whatever isn't eaten back where it came from, and wash up a couple of extra dishes." "Just do as you're told; it's so much nicer."
"Getting back to the subject," Fee pursued, "I don't think there's anything to discuss. It's my opinion that Justine ought to be allowed to try, and will probably do very well."
