One Of Our Dinosaurs Is Missing by David Forrest Read Free Book Online

I’ll bet.”
    Susanne nodded. “She’s just gone off to thleep.”
    “Sleep, eh? Tired out, I guess. Mind if I go have a look at her, nanny? Mind if I go look at my little darling?”
    “By all means, sir.” She tried to remember when he had last seen baby Charlotte awake. It certainly wasn’t during the past two months.
    “Ready, Putney?” demanded a sharp voice.
    Mrs. Willett swung into the lounge, a white mink stole over the shoulders of her silk evening gown. “Hell . . . where’s that darned man gone now? Oh, nanny, where’s Mister Willett hidden himself?”
    “The nursery, madam,” said Susanne.
    “Oh, God, that man!” scowled Mrs. Willett. “He will go and play whenever we have something important to do. Really, nanny ... you shouldn’t have let him. We’re always late for everything.” She turned to the mirror over the fireplace and checked her makeup. She watched her husband walk back into the room. “Ah! There you are. Let me have a look at you. Thought so,” she said, triumphantly. “Bow’s crooked. God, you men! Why don’t you get yourself ready, instead of wasting time in the nursery. Turn round, let me see your back.” She dusted off imaginary specks. “Come along, we’ll be late as usual.” She led the way out of the room.
    Putney Willett turned back at the door. “Fix yourself a gin-sling, nanny. Get high or something. G’night.”
    “Put. . . ney ...” called Mrs. Willett.
    “Nanny . . . Nanny . . . Nanny.” Susanne mimicked her employers’ voices, as she heard the front door slam behind them. Why did they have to keep calling her that? It made her feel so old, like Emily and Hettie. And she was only seventeen. Sometimes she wished she worked in a boutique or something. Nannying seemed to be something for older people. She pulled the white starched band off her head, tugging out the pins and shaking her hair down on to her shoulders. She scratched her scalp where the band had made it itch. She walked into her room and pulled off her uniform.
    It was still light outside. She walked to the window, opened it and leaned out to watch the city below. It was a warm evening. A light flickered on her face. She looked up. A boy, in an apartment across the street, flashed a mirror in the last of the evening sunlight. He disappeared, and returned a few moments later with a large board. It said “Saturday?”
    Susanne found the lid of a shoebox and scrawled a reply with her lipstick. “Yes,” she held up. The boy waved and vanished into his room. Susanne smiled. She spent most of her off-duty evening with the boy across the road. And when she was lonely and the sun was in the right direction, she could flash a mirror at him, too. Or, if it was dark, they waved flashlights at each other. They’d even considered learning morse code. It seemed a lot more romantic than telephone calls. He was eighteen, and wanted to be an artist. She knew the other nannies wouldn’t approve. Hettie thought that artists were just parasites--that was, unless they were successful. Susanne wondered how an artist could be successful, if he didn’t start somewhere?
    Maybe his father being a Wall Street stockbroker was the right start.
     
     

THREE
     
    Hettie’s white cap bobbed gently in time to the joggling of her foot on the axle of the baby carriage. She folded her arms and watched a cluster of squirrels scatter away from a small black spaniel that lolloped after them. The nannies were sitting on their usual bench in Central Park.
    Emily’s knitting needles clattered. She finished an uneven row, and scratched her head with the point of the empty needle. She must have been very tired the previous night, she thought. She couldn’t even remember going to bed. And this morning the bright colours of her knitting jarred her eyes.
    Hettie stopped her carriage-joggling and leaned toward the old nanny. “That idea of yours about the dinosaur,” she whispered. “Do you really think we could do