I was planning to stop in the bathroom before going downstairs, so I could possibly appear like the sweeping-in actress, with my hair brushed and my lipstick perfect, but the door was locked. So I patted my hair into place as best I could and went downstairs.
Sophie was in the kitchen with her parents. The two elder Starks were sitting at the kitchen table reading a newspaper; apparently this was allowed. Dorothy Sayers was perhaps not so scandalous, then. Sophie wasn’t reading, but throwing an arm out, in the midst of declaiming. She should definitely study the speeches of Caesar; she would perform them so admirably.
“Do you realize what a handicap it will be to this kid to be born on Yom Kippur?” she was saying. “Every time their birthday falls on that day, they’ll be totally overshadowed. No birthday party. No cake. Not even a glass ofwater.”
“I suggest you tell Barbara to hold off, then,” Mr. Stark said. “See how that works.”
“It isn’t a choice, Sophie,” Mrs. Stark said. “Babies come when they come.”
“I don’t see why,” Sophie said. “Can’t you choose when to start them?”
I choked a little at this, and she said, “Oh, hi, Marguerite. Barbara’s going to have the baby, I guess. Did you realize what a big production it is? She’s in the bathtub, and David is in the bathroomwithher. When she’s naked and huge!”
“Less of that, please,” Mrs. Stark said.
“Well, yes,” I said, going to the stove and picking up the teakettle to fill it. Rather boldly, as I’d let Joe do all the opening of cupboards in this house in the past, but if the Starks weren’t allowed to touch kitchenware today, how else would Joe get his tea? “Having a baby is painful and rather difficult. And one can’t choose exactly when to start a baby, either.”
“Why not?” Sophie asked. “If you know how to do it?”
I looked at Mrs. Stark. She looked at me. I turned on the gas under the teakettle, and Sophie said, “Well? Also, I thought you were only drinking water.”
“Joe is ill. I’m making him some tea. Would you have a bottle of aspirins, Mrs. Stark?”
“Oh, no,” she said, standing up. “What’s wrong with him?”
“Flu, I think. ItisOctober, after all, when such things begin to circulate. But we must keep him far away from Barbara.”
“Oh, yes,” she said. “Oh, goodness. Does he need a doctor?”
“No. He needs an aspirin. The bottle?”
“For heaven’s sake.” Mr. Stark threw down his newspaper and marched upstairs. Even his back view looked irritable.
“He doesn’t operate very well without coffee,” Mrs. Stark said.
“Meanwhile,” Sophie said, “I need to use your bathroom, Mother, and so does Marguerite, because Barbara’s been in there forages.”
I finished spooning tea into the teapot and asked, “Where would I find a tray?”
“Oh, dear,” Mrs. Stark said. “Oh, dear. Tea, and …”
“Yes,” I said, “but I’m sure God understands. A tray?”
Sophie said, “Over the refrigerator.Mother.The bathroom?”
“Of course,” she said. “Use ours. And show Marguerite where it is.”
Heavy footfalls on the stairs. Mr. Stark, with the aspirin bottle. He handed it to me without a word and sat down again with his newspaper.
Sophie said, “Come on, Marguerite. The cups are in the corner cupboard. No, the other corner. Comeon.I really have to go to the bathroom.”
That was when the ceiling began to drip.
Upstairs with Joe, I could hear knocking at the bathroom door, then voices, and finally, Barbara saying, “What do you mean, I have to get out? This is the only thing that feels good!”
David answered her soothingly, speaking in a patient sort of tone that would have made me want to hit him. Mrs. Stark was looking into our room, saying, “How are you feeling, Joe?” and then, before he could answer, “Sophie, get more towels and mop up in the kitchen. No, not the good ones! For heaven’s sake, have some sense.” Upon which Sophie said, “Well, how wasIsupposed to know? Honestly. Thisfamily.”
Mr. Stark, then, shouting up the stairs, “Where’s that plumber? And who took the sports page?” And Joe looking at me and grinning around the thermometer even as he shivered, while I sat propped up on the pillows beside him and read Dorothy L. Sayers between pouring tea.
