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From: HMS Victor Victorian <victorvictorian@hushunomail.com>
Newsgroups: alt.fan.prettyboy
Subject: The Old Toffee Tin, Chapter 5
Date: Thu, 16 Dec 2010 07:09:35 -0700
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Chapter 5
Father Makes an Assessment
That evening, Pooh found himself pinned to a laundry line to drip-dry,
while Nigel had to sit alone in his corner and contemplate the extent
of his calamity. At long last, as the sun set, Nigel tearfully
apologised to his mum for having made such a disaster, and promised
sincerely he'd not ever do it again.
Dad turned on the tellie and Mum brought dishes of ice cream with
butterscotch, and they crowded together on the divan and watched a
special on the BBC. It was a documentary about the Blitz. Nigel sat
wrapped in his favourite blanket and covered his head at the more
scary parts, when the air raid sirens wailed and the spot lights
pierced the fiery night, when the German planes roared overhead and
the bombs whistled down.
It was very frightening.
Presently Poohkums sauntered up as if the very picture of innocence,
wanting to get on Nigel's lap.
"Go away," the boy hissed. "It's all your fault, you stinky cat."
But then he felt badly and let her up anyway. She had, after all,
found the treasure.
"That was certainly grim." Roger said at the conclusion of the
programme, and shut the tellie off. "Not exactly children's fare."
Then he turned to Nigel, who was allowing Poohkums to lick his ice
cream bowl.
"Now, let's take a look at this wonderful treasure of yours," he said.
Nigel immediately leapt up, shedding his blanket and the cat, and
naked hopped excitedly over to the kitchen counter where his treasure
tin was.
"Put it on the table, son." Dad instructed, then pulled up a chair and
sat down. Angela and Claris followed, bringing in the dishes.
"Could you draw the drapes, please Claris," her father asked, "Nigel
Claris screwed her face up in a look of irritation and pulled the
drapes.
"Can I watch the tellie, Dad?" she asked.
"Too late, dear." Roger replied.
"Why can't I have my own tellie in my own room?" she complained.
"Little Lord Fannybum here always gets what he wants."
"Whatever." Claris groaned, sat down in a huff and gave her brother a
withering look. Nigel, who had climbed into his dad's lap, flung his
arms affectionately around the man's neck and resisted the great
temptation to stick his tongue out at her.
Mr. Macmillan peered at the front of the box, painstakingly ciphering
what words were still legible. At last he spoke.
"It's a toffee tin," he announced with a great grin and read the
He put the lid aside and began to methodically remove the toys from
the battered tin. He set them carefully, almost reverently, in a row
on the table top. He was sincerely fascinated, just like a little boy
himself, so much so that everyone, including Claris, stared in rapt
interest as he examined each one.
"What do you think, Roger?" Angela asked.
"Well, since I was at grand mum's house in Driffield. I couldn't have
been more than two or three years old. She had a collection of them
"They're all made of metal." Claris observed.
"Oh, yes. They all were in those days, before the War." Roger said,
"I hope they're not dangerous." Angela said.
"I doubt it," Roger replied, continuing his examination. "Now the
on them."
look from the corner of her eyes.
"Will not. That's not a pencil."
"You don't get lead poisoning from a pencil lead, you twit."
"And where did you find these, Nigel?" Angela asked.
The boy balked at saying, and then decided to tell the truth.
"In the front by the old wall," he said. Well, a half truth anyway.
"Was it on Mrs. Whitby's side?" his mum inquired.
Nigel shrugged.
"I'd wager he found them behind that old laurel bush." Claris
volunteered. Nigel gave her a nasty look.
"Well, in any case, I don't think they're Agnes Whitby's." Father
said, "What is for certain is that they'd been there for a very long
Roger had a love for mysteries, even minor ones such as that.
"I wonder what little boy owned these so long ago?" he pondered with a
look of whimsy.
"I think it was Christopher Robin's treasure chest." Nigel offered.
His dad laughed and tousled the boy's hair.
"I suppose it could very well be, if Christopher had had a grand mum
living here then." Roger smiled, and then abruptly added, "But the
probability of that is near zero, so I think they're yours now."
A thrill shot through Nigel, but then he frowned.
"But they must belong to some other little boy."
"Well," Roger patted his son on the knee. "You can take care of them
until I find out who they belong to."
still suspended out in the yard, least he raise an objection.
Angela picked up the tee shirt baby with the fallen diaper.
"I just love this piece!" she chuckled, "Wouldn't this be a scandal
nowadays?"
"Look at this one, Daddy." Nigel said, handing him the fat man in the
derby. "Can you make his arm move?"
studied the figure for a moment, and wiggled the arm holding the
bottle. "Definitely hinged but doesn't want to budge."
He got up, pulled a small squeeze bottle from a kitchen drawer, and
then sat back down.
"Little light oil should do the trick."
He squeezed a bit on the hinge and began to work the arm back and
forth. All of a sudden, the arm swung up, bringing the bottle to the
man's lips. Simultaneously, a long straight object emerged from the
front of the man's pants and everyone let out a yelp.
"Talk about a scandal!" Angela roared in hilarity, "He's got an
erection!"
Laughter filled the kitchen and Nigel laughed the loudest of all,
though he wasn't sure what he was laughing at.
"Well, you're not taking that one to school!" Roger cried in feigned
shock. "I suspect some little boy's mother didn't know about this
one."
"He must have been a naughty little boy." Nigel exclaimed with a
mixture of reproach and envy.
"Let me have it!" Claris begged, reaching out for it. Angela
glowered at her and took the figure from her husband.
"I think our randy little man needs to stay out of reach," she said
and set it on the top of the ice box.
"Mum!" Claris complained.
"So, do you suppose these toys could be valuable?" Angela wondered,
changing the subject.
Roger shrugged.
"Well, to a little boy they're very valuable, particularly that last
able to sell one for a few bob, but you'd be lucky to get that.
They're not worth much, I suspect."
"Frankly, I think Nigel got them from the Whitby property," Angela
warned, "If we don't return them, she'll raise a stink when she finds
out."
hand, "Who's to say she'll find out?"
"Are you volunteering to bring up the matter with her, then?" her
husband asked.
"I'd rather chew glass," Angela grumbled.
"So, there you have it."
And Nigel gave a very big smile.
HMSVV2010
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