A Friend in Need... Indeed

A Friend in Need... Indeed!

Mairi was much the same as any other five year-old girl, lively,
effervescent and forever asking questions. Her little legs would take
her gambolling along the Scottish beach and clambering up rocks. Where
she would invariably get stuck and demand the attention of the
grown-ups, whose capable arms would come to wheek her back to the
safety of level ground. She would capture the attention of all at
family gatherings and tell tales that would render the whole room
mystified. Her hearty, zestful nature was a joy to behold. Here was an
untainted soul at the source of life's flowing, ebbing path, bursting
with energy, minus the inhibitions of making new friends, young and
old.

However, what she did not understand bemused her. Mairi could not
always be the centre of attention and although she was the milk
chocolate in the box, those grown-ups, she felt, were just damned....
plain actually! Her hot tears bubbled over her russet-red cheeks. WHY
did her aunt hide behind that door and pretend that her voice was only
a recording, when Mairi wanted someone to talk at? WHY did Mummy claim
that little girls weren't allowed to go to clothes shopping with their
mothers? And WHY did Granny tell her that if she said rude words, God
would put His hand down from Heaven and give her a smack? ("And A'll
smack Him back!") Those adults must think I'm stupid, thought she, and
they should learn a thing or two!

You see Mairi was an only child. And while her isolated status has seen
her in good stead for the duration of her adult life, she was all alone
in the strange world of adults.

Ever resourceful, Mairi sat thoughtfully on the beach. And looking up
from her sand-encrusted hands on that warm Spring morning, she was
greeted by a sight that would mark her character for life.

TOAD had arrived! Toad had come to save her from boredom, to earnestly
listen to all her suggestions and agree, but most importantly, to never
answer her back. Not exactly a knight in shining armour - that's never
been Mairi's style. Rather, he arrived resplendent in a green hacking
jacket and tweed trousers, seated in a plastic washing-up bowl that had
presumably crossed the sea from Fife. Mairi had no need to question
whether or not that is from where Toad had originated. After all, she
had never been to Fife! Her mother had told Mairi of the picnics that
she had had there as a child, but all that her little girl could see
from the North Berwick shore was Fife's hazy, mottled banks across the
Firth of Forth, it's shores alight in the darkness with scattered,
sparkling speckles. Huh, that was Fairyland for sure, thought Mairi,
and Toad had come from there. And now, he had to be treated like a
prince. After all, he was her guest!

Mairi made the somewhat patchy arrangements for Toad to move in to her
house - in other words, none of the adults were consulted at all! They
couldn't see the shiny, mossy reptile, who aspired to civilisation by
walking on his two hind legs. And if they could, they may well have
asked

"Why did you not invite a pretty wee princess to stay, darling?"

They would then have been greeted by infernal fury. How DARE they make
fun of her friend! Wasn't she always polite to theirs? And so the
adults had to humour Mairi, which was no big deal because it kept her
occupied and out of everybody's hair. Not that they didn't appreciate
her; now it seemed that the lassie was having far too much fun taking
her new friend to the seashore, showing him the beach life that was to
be found within the confines of the rock pools. In the end, they too
get caught up in the silliness. Maire's mother scolded her daughter for
not offering Toad a slice of chocolate cake.

"Always look after your guests, Mairi" she said. And the advice stuck
with her for time immemorial.

But nothing prepared them for what the resident reptile would do next.
And Mairi learnt the art of passing the buck!

It was one of those pre-school days of yore, when Mairi would be
dragged from shop to shop with Mum and Granny. There were a hundred and
one other more fun things to do, Mairi whined as she stamped her foot
on the pavement. No amount of sulking or tantrums would get her out of
the obligation. The narrow High Street of the small seaside town may as
well have been Princes Street in Edinburgh, with all it's attendant
bustle, to her stumpy legs. All the interesting little nooks and
crannies that Mairi would have chosen to delve into were denied today,
for the grown-ups were going on a bathroom suite hunt!

Into the diminutive branch of the village bathroom shop they trooped,
with Granny attempting intelligent conversation with the salesman.
Mairi's mother glanced around, no doubt lost in her sadness that
nothing would ever update her parents' bygone, cheapskate taste.

"Mum, what about the peach range?" asked Mum, anglicising her words to
show the salesman how grand she was. "You could get a set of matching,
fluffy towels." Her suggestion was meaningless. Her father would never
agree to the price.

"Oh no, Linda. I want Harry to buy the turquoise range" Granny
responded, trying to outdo her daughter in sounding upmarket. "Mairi!"
she cried, her attention alerted to the naughtiness of her
granddaughter. "Kindly refrain!"

Mairi was certainly up to no good. Her little limbs were exhausted and
she was sitting on a priceless porcelain toilet. Or should that be, she
was charging and leaping around in the background, a resounding
C-C-C-R-R-R-AAAAAAA-C-C-KKK!!
being the result.

"Mummy!" Mairi squeaked, pulling at her mother's curly Afghan sleeve.
"Mummy, A've broken tha' pa-an!"

"Shush Mairi, A know!" she surreptitiously replied.

But Granny didn't know and more evidently, neither did the salesman.
And so she brought it to their attention. You've guessed it, the
pan-man spotted the evidence and the beaming imp was suspect number
one.

"But it wasnae me, Mummy!" Mairi yelped. "It wasnae me, it was Toad.
Look, TOAD BROKE THA' PA-AN!"

Her mother's pretty face turned henna red to match her curtaining hair.
Ever the eccentric, Mairi's grandmother said sharply

"No he didn't, Mairi! Toad was being a good boy." Mairi's mother
managed a pearly grimace. Now she'd done it - the village really would
take them for a family of half-wits now. After all, who on Earth were
they talking about? A friendly observation on her part to the salesman
about her little girl's imaginary friend, as well as invoking the wrath
of Mairi, would have been superfluous and well she knew it. And so they
left the shop under a cloud of humiliation.

Oh well, at least the adults claimed the remainder of the day as their
own. That man from the bathroom shop was coming round to smack us,
enthused Mairi's mother, so she best be in bed. Hurriedly, Mairi and
Toad hid in their room with a supply of chocolate biscuits and a bottle
of lemonade.

***********************************

Years passed, and Mairi became a big sister to many. Not for them the
delights of imaginary friends, when they could pull each other's hair
out. Sometimes I wonder if it is such a bad deal to be an only child,
for Mairi was loved exclusively for a while. In my opinion, she has
steered her ship with nautical precision through lapping oceans. Some
say that she is as cold and unfathomable as the waters that she
navigates and that she ought to come in to dock from time to time and
climb across the rocks, looking for crabs as she did as a child. Maybe
then she would have to ask for help to get down from the loftier,
craggier peaks. Some wonder if she's got any real rocks for friends, or
if she swims back out to sea again if anyone gets in too deep. Oh well,
she must be happy, they say. She's always up to something ingenious and
she obviously likes her own company, given the number of times she's
been spotted in conversation with herself.

But she has got a friend who she confides in. One who believes in her
dreams and accepts her wayward existence for what it is. Don't scoff
unless you know her as well as I do.

I should know, for I've been her companion through thick and thin. I've
told her tales of my magical land of Fife. I've raided the fridge on
her behalf on midnight feast frenzies. I've played sneaky practical
jokes on her nasty ex-boyfriends and planted stink bombs in the school
toilets.

And I've taken the blame on numerous occasions when something delicate
has gone
C-C-C-R-R-R-AAAAAAA-C-C-KKK!!
in a china shop.