The Peacock 367

 The tulips are now in their glory and the bearded irises are rapidly gaining ground.

"The gardens here are just exquisite", says Carol.  "You know despite the loveliness of the English country garden, for sheer splendour the Dutch do put us to shame."

"I'm surprised they don't grow food here", say I.

"Yes, more is the pity, I imagine.  Christopher, did you know that during the Nazi occupation during the Second World War, the Dutch had to eat tulip bulbs in order to stay alive.  Can you just imagine?  They are such lovely flowers, I think that I would go hungry instead."

I refrain from comment, having already seen how well and how amply this famous pianist can put away food.  I am also thinking right now of a recent conversation with Aaron, when he told me about a quarrel between two ladies at St. James.  This happened some years ago.  One was British and had lived through the bombing of Britain.  The other was Dutch, and she had survived the Nazi occupation of her country.  It got really nasty when the British woman suggested that the English had suffered every bit as the Dutch from the bombing, and that this woman was a very typical arrogant sort of British middle class, completely incapable of real empathy or of seeing other perspectives.  The Dutch woman, this was over the breakfast table in the clergy house following an early morning mass, broke down weeping as she tried to convince the stubborn cow that there might be something decidedly more traumatic when they go jackbooting into your country as the Nazis did.  I prudently keep my counsel, having already guessed what I might expect to hear from Carol by way of reply.

As we approach the house I imagine that I will be going into the kitchen to help with dinner before Melissa volunteers me.  Not to my surprise, Carol simply disappears in the direction of the stairs that will take her up to her room...