Mother's Favourite

Humboldt edges past Gaius to the window seat, and sits down.

What's this about legs? asks Humboldt.

Gaius is taken aback. There has been nothing about legs in particular.

Legs? says Gaius.

Young Terence says you read to him from your notes.

I did, says Gaius. He was quite perspicacious.

He was not, says Humboldt. Unless your notes say the bandy bandy has legs.

They don't, says Gaius. They are, if memory serves me, from Wikipedia.

I thought you said Weipa, says Humboldt.

Wikipedia, the online encyclopedia. I scribbled down a few notes when we were in Paris.

So where did he get the idea of legs from? asks Humboldt.

What preceded the mention? asks Gaius.

Um... says Humboldt. Something about socks. He was complaining.

Of course, says Gaius. Did he say they had not enough rings?

He did, says Humboldt. The bandy bandy has forty eight. Or does it?

Forty eight OR MORE, says Gaius. I'm glad that you're here. Why forty eight, I ask you?

A minimum? suggests Humboldt.

Possibly. I shall make a note to test that, says Gaius. If I see a bandy bandy with less than forty eight rings I shall go in and edit the article.

You can do that? asks Humboldt.

Oh yes, says Gaius. But if it wasn't on Wikipedia, I can't.

Was it or wasn't it? asks Humboldt.

That part of my notes is missing, says Gaius. I'm sorry. What's that you're eating?

A smoked oyster, says Humboldt, spitting it out. I was talking to Saint Roley and picked up something I shouldn't have. They are business class leftovers.

Amazing! says Gaius. I mean, that they gave you business class leftovers.

Not me, him, says Humboldt. We spoke of his brother. And I spoke of mine.

You have a brother? asks Gaius.

Wilhelm, says Humboldt. Mother's favourite.

Mothers! says Gaius, (hoping this will suffice).

I've been trying to dredge up a few happy memories of my mother, says Humboldt. She was emotionally distant. When she died I received a letter from a friend saying "Her death must be particularly welcomed by you".

Well there's a good memory, right there,  says Gaius.

Not really, says Humboldt. I'm thinking more of head patting, cuddles.....

If you can't remember them, says Gaius, perhaps there weren't any. Not all mothers are tender.

Humboldt picks up his chewed oyster again. Sniffs it.

A thought occurs.

Wikipedia. Is he on it? If so, is she? Will there be a portrait? Him with his mother. She with a snood on. He, innocent, golden curls, looking up at his mother, hopeful of maternal attention.

She, with what sort of expression?

He swallows the oyster.