It was a pleasant house, with good landscaping and a fenced back yard - and it was furnished.

Mr Strong said, ‘Ali he asked to have shipped to him were his books and his clothes. Her clothes and those of his youngsters and their personal possessions all went to the Salvation Army. The rest - bedlinen, blankets, rugs, towels, drapes - have all been cleaned and the mattresses sterilised. The house is for sale furnished or unfurnished, and you can have it either way on lease.'

It had a master bedrooan and mo smaller ones upstairs, each with bath. The master bedroom was on the west and. had a ‘sunset' balcony, like the flat we had in 1940 on Woodlawn in Chicago. Downstairs was both a parlour and a family room, an arrangement I strongly favour for any family having children at home. Youngsters need a place where they can be less than neat, without disturbing mother when she has someone in for tea.

Off the back hallway, balancing the kitchen, was a maid's room and bath. The kitchen had a GE dishwasher and a Raytheon electronic cooking unit of the same sort that I had in my old farmhouse - and in both cases the equipment was new, not the age of either house. A feature that struck my eye was an abundance of built-in bookcases... added later, it seemed to me, except a pair of small ones flanking the fireplace in the family room. Most houses didn't even have that much, as most people don't read.

(Before the twentieth century was out that could be worded, ‘most people can't read'. One of the things I learned in studying the histories of my home planet and century on various time lines was that in the decline and fall that took place on every one of them there was one invariant: illiteracy.

In addition to that scandalous flaw, on three time lines were both drug abuse and concurrent crime in the streets, plus a corrupt and spendthrift government. My own time line had endless psychotic fads followed by religious frenzy; time line seven had continuous wars; three time lines had collapse of family life and marriage - but every time line had loss of literacy... combined with - riddle me this - more money per student spent on education than ever before in each history. Never were so many paid so much for accomplishing so little. By 1980 the teachers themselves were only semi-literate.)

The house had - mirabile visu! - two hot-water heaters, one for upstairs, one for kitchen, laundry room, and maid's bath. I tried a tap and was amazed to discover that the water was hot.

George Strong said, ‘After you called yesterday I instructed our maintenance foreman to have services turned on and the house aired. You could sleep here tonight if you so wished.'

‘We'll see.' I took a quick look in the basement and we left.

George Strong treated us to a lovely lunch in The Fiesta Patio in the Plaza, then at my request we were taken to Dr Rumsey's office. I spoke to Jim Rumsey and told him what in particular I wanted him to look for - I can be truthful with Dr Rumsey, thank goodness, since he understands Howard problems.

‘Don't tell her whether or not she is pregnant; tell me. She's a difficult case; I need leverage. Do you want to know her real age?'

‘You forget that I know it. I'll try not to let that fact affect my judgement.'

‘Jim, you're a comfort.' I kissed him goodbye, went out and spoke to my youngsters:

‘Just sit tight and wait. He has other patients ahead of you. When you are through, make your best way home.'

‘You're not picking us up?' Priscilla seemed amazed. ‘I thought we were going shopping?'

‘No, we've run out of time. Perhaps we'll go to the Plaza after dinner; I believe Sears is open late.'

‘Sears?'

‘Do you Nave something against Sears?'

‘Aunt Marian never shops, at Sears.'

‘That's interesting. I'll see you at home. You can walk or take the bus.'

‘Wait a moment! Did you tell the Doctor that I don't want to be poked?'

‘On the contrary, I told him that if you gave him any lip or showed any lack of co-operation, I wanted him to tell me.'

Priscilla pouted. ‘I thought that you were going to pick us up and go shopping and then we were going back to decide which house to rent'

‘I am about to decide that right now, while you two take your physicals.'

‘You mean we don't get a vote?'

‘Did you think that we were going to vote on it? All right, we'll vote by the rules of the Republic of Gondor. For each dollar each interested party invests in the deal he or she gets one vote. How many votes do you want to buy?'

‘Huh? Why, I think that's mean!'

‘Priscilla, it has never been in the Bill of Rights that minor dependants get to pick the family domicile. And, while I do not know how Aunt Marian ran things, in my household I make such decisions. I may consult others; I may not. If I do consult others, I am not bound by their opinions. Understand me?'

Priscilla did not answer. Donald said quietly, ‘Slugger, you're crowding your luck.'

I rejoined George at his car; he handed me in. ‘Where now, dear lady?'

‘I would like to look again at the furnished house.'

‘Good.'

We rode in silence. George Strong was a comfortable man to be with; he had no small talk. Presently I said, ‘Did you bring those two envelopes?'

‘Yes. Do you want them now? If so, I had better park. They are in a concealed zipper pocket, rather hard to reach.'

No, I was just checking, before we got too far from your office.'

When we reached the house, I went upstairs with George at my heels, and into the master bedroom. I started undressing; his face lit up.

‘Maureen, I had hoped that you had this in mind.' He sighed happily and started reaching for fastenings himself. It's been a long time.'

‘Too long. I've been overwhelmed with mother problems and with school. But school is over for me, for a long time at least, and my mother problems I have under control - I hope - and I'll have more time, if you want me.'

‘I'll always want you!'

‘I've been thinking about you and your sweet ways all day. But I had to park the children first. Do you want to undress me? Or shall we both hurry and see how quickly we can be in bed?'

‘What a choice to have to make!'

George wasn't the greatest bedroom artist in the world, but in the six years I had been his now-and-then mistress, he had never left me hanging on the fence. He was an attentive and considerate lover and he took as his prime purpose being certain that his partner in bed reached orgasm.

If he was no Adonis, I was no Venus. When I was Priscilla's age, I looked pretty good - as tasty as she did, I think. But now (1952) I was seventy and a simulated forty-seven, and did look past forty despite special effort. An older woman must work at it, just as George worked at it (and I did appreciate his efforts). She must keep her breath sweet, her inner muscles in good tone, her voice low and mellow, her smile ready and her frown never, and her attitude friendly and co-operative. Father had told me, ‘Widows are far better than brides. They don't tell, they won't yell, they don't swell, they rarely smell, and they're grateful as hell.'

That's Maureen Johnson from 1946 to 1982. When I first heard Father's bawdy formula I was simply amused by it and never expected it to apply to me... until that sour day that Brian let me know that his younger concubine had displaced me. Then I found that Father's joking description was the simple truth. So I became an available ‘emergency squaw'. I worked hard at being agreeable and smelling good. And I didn't insist on Adonis, just a friendly fair exchange with a gentleman. (Never an oaf, never a wimp!)

I always left time for a second one, if he wanted it. He wants it, if you have done the job on him you should do. The reason American men are such lousy lovers is that American women are such lousy lovers. And vice versa, and around and around. ‘Garbage in, garbage out.' You get what you pay for.