Very Fawnedly Yours

© 2013 by Walter Reimer

(All characters courtesy of  EOCostello,  MercMarten and  Major Matt Mason. Any resemblance between characters depicted herein and any real person, living or dead, is too bad for them.)

The setting is Spontoon Island, in the story section Let's Doe It (Let's Fall In Love).

Art by  turnbolt


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Part 50.


Back, Again

Reggie:

Since we had to leave early, Mummy saw to it that Grandfather was bundled into the Rolls with his suitcase and Christmas presents for the trip back down to Kent. One of the staff went with him to make sure that things would be all right.

Before he left he took me aside. “You’ve a fine wife, Reggie, and I wish you all the best in the world.”

“It’s a bit rum, though, sending you back there all by yourself – “

“Nonsense, my boy. You have work to do.” He patted my shoulder, then embraced me. “Do me proud.”

With that to inspire me, how could I miss?

Willow and I went home that night, had a light supper and got packed up for our trip.

I told Apollo that Monday morning to get us to the station “quickly.” Of course, I had my fingers crossed that he wouldn’t turn out to be a repeat of Nosey in the slap-dash service department.

I needn’t have worried; he moved fast, but safely, all the way to the station. He saw us to our compartment before leaving us aboard the train.

“The Great Southern Railway – again,” Willow grumbled.

“I know, love,” I said, “but we have a new plane to look forward to.” She grinned, and I opened the paper that I’d bought as we boarded. “Hmm!”

“What’s that, Reggie?”

“Oh, reading this article about what’s going on in Parliament. The Member for Caerbannog’s sent in a letter about trades practices.”

“Where’s Caerbannog?”

“Wales, I think.”

“So, what does he say?”

“Very rough language – says we should behead the leaders of the trades unions. Funny; you would think a rabbit would be a bit milder in his outlook.”

“What about Henry VIII?”

“Point taken.”

We arrived in Southampton a bit behind schedule, but we were confident that the plane would wait for us.


***


Willow:

We got our first look at Aeolus as it sat on the apron leading into the harbor water. Big plane; four engines and painted a dazzling white with the blue leaf on the tail. Pretty easy to spot.

It would make a good contrast against the sky, which was about the same color gray as the warship anchored a distance away. As our bags were put aboard the breeze started to freshen up.

Coming from the west, which was where we wanted to go.

The plane had a crew of six, including the two pilots, navigator, engineer and two stewards. Lodge could have cooked for us in a pinch, but he was there to attend to us personally. Still, the crew looked quite dashing in their new uniforms, white with blue piping and rank stripes on their sleeves.

They looked a bit like – well, like if the Good Rumour Company had taken over the RAF.

I was a little disconcerted by the flight crew. The pilot was a short weasel and the copilot an equally short dachshund. The two of them were looking over the plane as the ground crew busied themselves.

As the flight crew walked past the pilot smiled and touched a finger to his cap. “Morning, Ma’am.”

He sounded like a New Yorker.

“Good morning, Mr. - ?”

“Fisher, Mrs. Buckhorn. Jack Fisher.” He grinned. “And it’s Captain.” He gestured to the four blue stripes on his sleeve, and then pointed to the dachshund, who sported two stripes. “This is my copilot, Lieutenant Carl Price.”

The canine nodded. “Ma’am.”

“Sorry. How’s the weather, Captain?”

“Ah, the weather.” He looked up at the sky and shook his head. “I’d be lying to you if I said it’s going to be a smooth ride, Ma’am. Cold front’s coming over Ireland right now. We might have some trouble, but it’s a good plane.” He rested a paw against Aeolus’ metal skin. “We’ll do all right.”

“About a day getting to New York?”

“Pretty much, yeah. Stops at Foynes and Botwood along the way.”

“But not Coooooooooooooooooooooooocamunga!” Lt. Price said, and the two started laughing.

It reassured me, and I got on board.

Reggie was walking from one end of the plane to the other, enthusiastically talking about the various features. “Gad, Willow! Father spared no expense in getting this thing fitted up! Staterooms, kitchen, even a boardroom!”

“A boardroom? That’ll be useful for meetings.”

“Oh, rather. Advantage of the ground, what?”

A very attractive red squirrel femme in a nicely turned-out uniform poked her head in then. “Excuse me, Mr. and Mrs. Buckhorn, we’re getting ready for takeoff. Captain Fisher wants me to make sure you two are in your seats.”

“Really? Jolly good!” He kissed me and sat down beside me on one of the very comfortable seats. “Ready, my dear?”

“Yes. Let’s go!”


***


Reggie:

The first leg of our trip was from Southampton to Foynes, which is in Ireland.

The first leg almost had us on our last legs.

We should have had some idea of the weather when the plane took off from Southampton harbor, and things didn’t improve much once we got into the air. I’ve had bouncier journeys, but I really couldn’t recall at the time.

Too busy, don’t you know.

Willow, on the other paw, seemed to taking it fairly well. After the light breakfast she’d had made an untimely reappearance, that is.

Me? I didn’t, but kept one of those wretched little bags ready to paw.

A brief stop at Foynes, with a fifteen hour leap across the sea ahead of us.

Fifteen hours. It beats three days or so at sea all hollow, and I really don’t see how they could ever get people across faster than that.

Unless they fitted them with rockets, I suppose.

The comedy team of Fisher and Price joked with each other as they got the Aeolus ready for the long leg of the trip. I have to say that they would have opened and closed in the same hour in New York, as some of the jokes seemed to have been long past mark of mouth.

Well, they might have killed in New Haven, since those chappies have been cut off for so long. Of course, they might end up getting killed in New Haven, so I won’t suggest it.

The plane did fairly well, as far as I know. If I recall, Aeolus was the god of the winds. You’d think a plane named after him would have had a better time of it.

I suppose that’s why the Greek gods fell out of favor – kept falling down on the job.


***


Willow:

Ulp.

Five hours into the flight across the Atlantic, I was ready to have the plane crash into the sea.

Anything to stop this damned whoopsy feeling in my stomachs.

I think I used every airsick bag in the place. I think I even shared Reggie’s (very romantic, but misery loves company).

I don’t recall too much about how I ended up on a bed in one of the staterooms, but I suspected Reggie. I was also gratified to learn that the stewardess, Penny (I think), was also a registered nurse.

The second five hours were a bit smoother.

The last third of the trip was the worst, and by the time the plane set down at Botwood in Canada I was feeling a bit worse than dead – tired, sick, and as weak as a dozen wet dishrags.

Deep in my mind, I could see Grace wasn’t faring too well either.

(You okay?)

(Stupid question, Twin.)

(Sorry. Just making small talk, Grace.)

“Mrs. Buckhorn?”

“Urp . . . yes, Penny?”

“I’m going to have you sit up.”

“Can’t you . . . just build the coffin around me?”

She smiled sympathetically. “No, you’re not dead, Ma’am, just dehydrated. Come on, oopsy-daisy,” and she managed to get me sitting somewhat upright.

She held the bag this time.

After cleaning me up a bit, she offered me a glass of ginger ale and a straw.

“You have GOT to be kidding.”

“No, I’m not, Mrs. Buckhorn. It’ll settle your stomachs. There’s no ice, because a cold drink’s the last thing you need right now. Small sips only to start.”

I tried a sip, and lo and behold it worked. One stomach at a time, of course.

“That feel better?”

“Yes. Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome.”

“Where’s my husband?”

“He went up to talk to the pilot.”

And right on cue, Reggie stood in the doorway of the stateroom. “Feeling better, Willow?”

I gave my best pathetic, hollow-eyed stare at him, and took another sip of ginger ale. “I’ll be okay, I guess.”

“Captain Fisher says that after they make sure nothing shook loose we’ll be shift ho for New York, or ‘Noo Yawk’ as he puts it.” He looked troubled. “I don’t like seeing you sick, my love.”

The pink fog started to gather.

“I’ll be all right, dearest.”

“Well, just to be on the safe side, I had them put a call through to New York.”

“Yes?”

“Yes. You have a doctor’s appointment after we land.”

How thoughtful of him. He looked a bit under the weather himself, even though we had been over and inside the weather for fifteen hours. I as much as said so.

He gave me a smooch, which was very daring of him considering what I’d been doing for most of the flight.


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