At first the infant,

"Oh, Mrs Player. Would you look at him? Isn't he a lovely little lad? What are you calling him?"

"Jack. He's like a yellow and crimson prune. Is there something wrong with him, nurse?" asked the mother. She slumped back in the plumped pillows, her eyes bloodshot and her hair greasy. Her veined breast almost overwhelmed the baby's egg-shaped head.

"He's perfect. He's gorgeous. They all look like that when they're just born." The nurse stroked the baby's cheek.

"That's enough breast for the first feed. You're very good to try. I'll take him away now and you get some rest. How about a nice cup of tea?"

She plucked the infant from his mother's arms and swaddled it neatly in a blue blanket. The small bundle began to cry weakly as she held it to her own chest. Mrs Player eased her bosom back into her nursing bra. It was so swollen, it didn't seem part of her own body. She heard the small eruption and looked up to see the nurse mopping a patch of puke from her shoulder. She turned her face to the pillow. The milky smell receded as they left the room.

And then the whining school-boy,

Mrs Player selected an apple, crammed it into the lunchbox and snapped the lid on. Jack poured out another bowlful of cereal.

"You haven't time for that," she said, putting on the kettle. She hadn't had her morning cuppa yet. "Go and clean your teeth. Hurry now. You don't want to be late for your first day at big school."

He slunk up the stairs, pulling a face. Mrs Player put his new red lunchbox inside his satchel. She glanced at the kitchen clock. She picked up his coat and his newly polished shoes and stood at the bottom of the stairs.

"Jack," she called up. "It's ten to."

There was no sound. She sighed and hurried up to his room. He was sitting on the floor surrounded by building bricks.

"For goodness sake!"

"I need to finish this castle," he whined.

"You haven't got time. I don't know why you started playing in the first place." She examined him closely. "And you still haven't washed your face. Into the bathroom, quick." She scrubbed his face, none too gently, with a flannel.

"I feel sick."

"That's not all you'll be feeling if you don't get a move on." She patted him affectionately on his head.

He managed to look grown up and small at the same time in his one size too large school uniform. She scooted him out of the house and stood on the doorstep until he had disappeared around the corner, resisting the temptation to follow him to the school gates. It wouldn't do to spoil the child. She sniiffed and went inside to pour herself a nice cup of tea.

And then the lover

There was a shrill ring at the front door. Jack leapt from his seat, sending the milk jug flying. He stopped in mid flight, dithering between the door and the spill.

"There she is at last. You get the door, Jack. I'll wipe that up," Mrs Player said, picking up a cloth.

There was a murmuring in the hall and then he ushered in a short, pale girl wearing skintight jeans and a lot of makeup.

"Daphne, this is my mum. Mum, Daphne," he said, gesturing stiff-armed. His face was flushed as pink as her pearly lipstick.

"How do you do, Daphne," said Mrs Player, wiping her hands on a teatowel and offering it for a handshake.

"Howya Hillary. Pleased to meet you," said Daphne. She plonked down on a chair and checked the teapot. It was cold. "I'm gasping. Shall I put the kettle on?" she said, going over to the sink.

"No, no, Daphne. You go and sit in the lounge and I'll bring it through. I'm sure you'll want a rest. It's a long walk from your side of town."

"Oh no, I don't hold with ceremony." Daphne started opening the cupboards and poking around inside. "Ah. There's the tea. Now where the mugs?"

Mrs Player's nostrils flared. She indicated a set of bone china cups and saucers on a tray. There was a plate of fondant fancies and a refilled jug of milk.

"Ah deadly. But I have to say, you don't get much out of one as small as that. As the actress said to the bishop." Daphne snorted with laughter. "I'll stick with the mug, all right? No offence Jack." She headbutted him on the shoulder. Jack smiled at her and reached his hand to her face to stroke her eyebrow.

"Of course, Daphne. We'll just go in here." Mrs Player pulled Jack into the lounge.

"Jack," she hissed. "What in heaven's name were you thinking of?"

He sighed and craned towards the door to catch another glimpse of her. "She's great, isn't she? I could watch her for hours."

Then a soldier,

Jack came charging over the hillock and rammed the blue flag into the top. "Yeah" he yelled. "Up the blues. We've taken the camp."

He punched his arm in the air in triumph, and looked around for an audience. There was no one but a woman with a clipboard, wearing a scarlet sweatshirt saying 'Adjudicator' in large letters.

"Come on lads." He took off his helmet, wiped the sweat from his forehead and scratched his beard. There was a large red welt on the bridge of his nose.

A group of men and women in matching khaki jumpsuits, emerged limping from the undergrowth. Some were stained with yellow paint, more with blue. They congregated around the adjudicator, arguing the toss but she held out the blue flag to Jack.

"Blues win again. 5 out of 6. Yellows, please brew up for the champions." The blue splattered team grumbled but soon had the jerrycan bubbling and the milk and sugar laid out.

"Inspired leadership there, Jack," said a well-dressed man, climbing out of a Humvee and picking his way through the mud.

Jack strolled over, blowing on his steaming tin mug.

"Well done. You drove them beyond anything we thought them capable of at the start."

Jack grinned and saluted him with a muddy hand. "I ran up against a few problems at the start but there's a lot of potential there if only they could be made to see it. No question about it."

"Indeed. I'm sure there'll be no objections to a partnership based on this performance." He patted him gingerly on his muddy shoulder.

"Let's drink to that, Mr Hadcock." He toasted him with his tea.

And then the justice,

Jack shifted in his chair and scratched his stomach through the gap in his shirt. His eyes followed from the young man pacing in front of him but his brain was engaged elsewhere. He had stopped listening ten minutes ago. It was all pretentious claptrap about startups, e-commerce and such like. The youngster had grown a half-hearted beard in the fashion of the day. Jack had to look twice to be sure that it was intentional and not a missed day's shaving.

Subconsciously, he rubbed his own, fuller beard, trimmed fastidiously every morning. He thought the grey colour gave him an air of distinguished authority though he secretly kept his thinning hair dyed dark brown.

"I've heard enough," he said finally. "I've considered all you've told me and I'm going to say 'No'. This is one undertaking you have to do without being shored up by me. Let it be your own work and your own money and we'll all sleep better at night. I know that your mother agrees with me on this."

"But Dad, I don't think you've…."

"No. There's no more to be said. That's my final answer. Now, pass me the milk jug. I'm ready for another cup."

He leaned forward, his buttons straining against his round belly, and picked up a delicate macaroon. There were some crumbs already trapped in his moustache.

the lean and slippered pantaloon

The man on the opposite side of her desk had barely moved since he had first sat down. She couldn't decide if he was taking any of the information in. She took a sip from her cup of tea and picked up the sheaf of papers again. Jack's cup remained on the table, untouched, next to her box of tissues. The steam had stopped rising from its surface.

"Here's the paperwork we need to you to sign, here and here." She indicated the dotted lines on various parts of the form. Her fingernails were bitten to the quick. She pointed at various closely worded paragraphs. "This one says that you have thirty years of service. That's the special bonus added to your retirement fund in lieu of taking it earlier than planned. It takes into account that you have no living dependants as such. And this part is to say that it is redundancy of the position, and there are no disciplinary or other issues."

Jack ignored the biro she proffered. He took his silver fountain pen out of his jacket pocket and put on his round reading glasses. He signed five times, scratching a thick line each time under his name. He didn't bother to read the paragraphs she had carefully highlighted in pink.

"Here's the final cheque and your copy. Here's a leaflet explaining how to get help if you find you need it."

She rose and offered her hand. He took his time putting his glasses away. He picked up the papers, stood up and walked out of her office. She watched him walk self-consciously upright along the corridor. People looked up from their computers as he passed. He looked neither to the left nor to the right. His trousers flapped around his legs and she fancied she could hear him wheezing.

"Good luck, Jack," she called, though probably not loud enough for him to hear.

Is second childishness and mere oblivion,

"Hello Jack. Has your visitor gone?" The nursing attendant straightened up his bedclothes. "Aren't you lucky to have such a good son to visit with you? Are these the flowers that he brought you? Lovely. I'll put them in water." She picked them up and buried her nose into the carnations. They had no scent she could detect.

"Waste of money," said Jack. "My money. Never liked flowers. Waste of good garden space."

"Yes lovey. He told me you used to grow vegetables. Leeks, wasn't it? Or was it marrows? You'll eat some nice vegetables with your dinner tonight. What do you fancy? Carrots? Peas?"

He shook his head and sucked his gums. "You always leave them too hard. No flavour. I'm not hungry."

"I'll get you a nice cup of tea then to keep you going." She turned to leave. "The doctor said you need to build up your strength."

"What for?" he muttered. He turned his ashen face to the light coming in through the window, looking but not seeing.

The rain came down in sheets.

^