I could get addicted to this feeling,
helping others.

I would like to thank my dear friends,
Angel O’Hare, Karen Page, Joni W., Annette MacGregor and Holly H Heart
for their kindness, help, support, and input.

Education in the Hills
Chapter 38

By Penny Reed Cardon

Thursday, February 17, 2005.

There's only one thing that's more unnerving than waking up in a strange place, and that's waking up in a strange place with strange person looking down at you.

A startling moment later I remembered where I was and that face looking down at me was one of the female Flight Attendants. "I'm sorry if I startled you, luv. Your friend said it was okay to wake you."

"Where is my friend?" I asked.

"She nipped off to the lavatory. Judging by the bundle she was carrying, I imagine she's changing out of her jammies. We'll be serving breakfast very soon. I'm assuming you'll want to change out'a your lovely nightgown before we land. Would you like something ta eat before, or after, you change?" came the friendly reply.

"I think I'd like to change first."

"Very good, miss. I'll check back in a few minutes."

I slid out of my seat and opened my bag. Collecting everything I needed, I carefully wrapped what I didn't want to show off into the middle of my bundle. As I approached the lavatory’s, the door to one of them swung open, and Mary Beth stepped out.

"Oh, good morning, Munchkin."

"Morning, MayBee."

"Did you order your breakfast yet?" Mary Beth asked.

"Not yet. I thought I'd change first. You can order for me, you know what I like."

"Be happy to. See you in a few."

"Don't leave without me," I jokingly teased, while heading for the lavatory.

I carefully arranged everything on the limited counter space. Pulling off my nightgown, I started with the wet wipes. The wipes were a bit chilly but I still felt cleaner when I was done, even though I was putting on the same clothes, I was wearing the day before. Breakfast was nothing to rave about, but airline food is better than hospital food.

When we touched down in London, everyone started clapping, which was a little puzzling, because I didn't know why. Mary Beth appeared to be just as puzzled as I was. Being that she was in the aisle seat, she leaned across the aisle and asked inquired about the applause. She was told it was to celebrate another successful Trans-Atlantic flight.

After getting off the plane, we followed the signs that took us to customs. Nothing unusual here, it was basically the same procedure we went through in Salt Lake City. Coat, shoes, and PDA in a plastic tub and my suitcase by itself. Naturally, I kept track of my things, as I went through one scanner and they went through another. I was surprised by the actions of a young customs agent. After my bag came out of the scanner, the agent picked it up and stood it on its side, and then ran the conveyor belt backwards, back into the scanner. As my bag came back out, the young customs agent walked alongside the conveyor, keeping pace with my bag.

As my bag neared the end of the conveyor, the customs agent put his hand on it and asked, "Whose bag is this?"

Rather timidly I raised my hand, so it was level with my face.

I assume the agent didn't see my hand, because he again asked, a little louder, "Whose bag is this?"

This time I raised my hand up as high as it would go.

This time the agent saw my hand go up. You could see his head move, as he scanned from my fingertips down my arm, until his eyes were locked onto mine. He paused a moment, just looking into my eyes, before he asked, "Who are you with little girl?"

A minor earthquake shook the conveyor, as I scowled at the agent and dropped my hand.

"Is there a problem?" RJ asked.

"Are you her parents?" he asked, looking at RJ and Miss Adams.

"Her parents? No, but we are responsible for both these young ladies. What seems to be the problem," Miss Adams replied.

The agent quickly scanned the four of us, saying, "You need to come with me." As he picked up my bag and escorted us into a small office.

Inside the office were two more customs agents and several desks. One agent was just hanging up his phone as we entered, he asked, "What's all this about, John."

"I think we've got a bag half full of narcotics," the agent, who we now knew as John, replied, as he set my bag on a desk.

I heard the third agent chuckling as Miss Adams asked, "Matilda, what do you have in there?"

"No drugs, that's for sure," I quickly replied.

"Wait until I tell everyone back home, Matilda was accused of smuggling drugs. The Black Sheep will be so proud of her," Mary Beth cheerfully teased.

John stood right in front of me and asked, "Who packed your bag little -"

"NO," Miss Adams squealed.

" - girl? OUCH! What the hell - she kicked me!" John complained.

"I'm sorry, she doesn't like being called 'little girl'," Miss Adams explained.

"But, she is a little girl," John stated, moving a little.

Swing, and a miss.

"She’s ten years old," Mary Beth said, gruffly.

Turning to address Mary Beth, he said, "That's ridiculous, she can't be more than six, maybe seven. OOOOUCH! Now stop that, or I'll lock you up for assault."

John's two associates were laughing like crazy. One of them interrupted his laughing to say, "I can see the headlines now, Johnny boy. Heathrow customs agent, jails a ten-year-old midget, because she kicked him when he insulted her."

This brought forth more laughter. I however was not amused and tried to stand tall, with my fists on my hips. Well, as tall as my shortness is capable of standing. Of course, my attempt at looking angry only resulted in renewed laughter.

"Mary Beth, would you try to calm down your study partner," RJ pleaded.

Mary Beth pulled me over to a couple of chairs, which were against a wall, and sat with me.

The, apparently, senior agent, came over to me and gentle asked, "Who packed your bag, miss?"

"I did!" I gruffly replied.

"Did anyone help you?" he asked.

I looked at Mary Beth, "Would you consider what you did helping?"

"Well, I took one item out, but I didn't put anything in," she replied.

"True." Turning back to the agent I replied, "No, nobody helped me pack my bag." I was quickly calming down, thanks to no longer being treated like a very small child, even though I might have looked like one.

"Did anyone ask you to carry anything in your bag for them?" the agent asked.

"No, there’s nothing in there for anyone else, only my things," I replied.

"Ok, thank you." Turning back to John the senior agent asked, "Ok John, why are we here?"

"I told you why, there's narcotics in that bag. She must be covering for one of these adults."

RJ and Miss Adams stood by, quietly watching and listening.

"Is it all right if we have a look, miss," the agent asked.

I slowly nodded, knowing that my secret, although known by my companions, was to be publicly displayed very soon. Mary Beth, knowing how I felt, put her arms around me for support.

"All right John, open it up, let's see these narcotics," the senior agent requested.

John set the bag on its back and tugged on the zipper handles. He was glaring at RJ and Miss Adams, I suppose he was expecting to catch a change in one of their expressions, as he flipped the open the cover. He continued to stare at RJ and Miss Adams as he thrust his hand into the bottom of my bag and pulled out a soft, object, holding it in front of the senior agent, without having looked at it.

"There!" John exclaimed.

Miss Adams was quietly giggling. RJ expression never changed, I'm not sure what he was thinking.

The other agent was laughing again, while the senior agent asked, "Excellent work there Johnny, excellent. I do have a couple of questions, are you supposed to inject it, swallow it, or smoke it?"

John finally looked at what he was holding, it almost scared him and he dropped the pink object.

"What the devil is that," John screamed.

"They're called UnderJams," Miss Adams calmly stated. "Matilda has a little problem."

"It's a what?" John questioned.

"It's a NAPPY," the senior agent replied.

"Technically yes. However, Matilda may take offense at her protective garment being referred to as a nappy or diaper," Miss Adams corrected.

The senior agent quickly shifted, placing John between me and himself.

"But in the x-ray it looked like bags of narcotics," John confessed.

"John, were you watching over the shoulder of the x-ray tech again?"

"Yeah, I guess I was," John admitted.

"That's why we have trained x-ray techs, John. He knew they weren't narcotics, but you weren't listening, again! I think you owe these good people an apology," the senior agent said, reprimanding John.

"I'm sorry I accused you of smuggling," John confessed.

"Matilda, is there something you'd like to say?" Miss Adams asked.

"I'm sorry I kicked you in the leg . . . twice," I said, even though I really wasn't.

"Pete, why don't you take John down to the dispensary for some ice packs, to sooth his wounded shins. Then a cup a tea, to sooth his wounded ego," the senior agent requested, while stifling his urge to laugh.

"Are we finished here?" RJ asked.

Once Pete and John had left, the senior agent replied, "Technically yes, you may leave at any time. However, I would like to ask a few questions if I may."

"Of course, Mister . . ." Miss Adams replied.

"I'm sorry, we weren't properly introduced, were we? I'm Malcolm Daily. Please forgive John, he's only been with us for a fortnight."

"Quite understandable. Now what can we do for you?" Miss Adams inquired.

Mr. Daily leaned forward and spoke with Miss Adams in hushed tones. After a few seconds Miss Adams expression changed, radically. She was obviously concerned about something.

Then she stopped Mr. Daily and asked, "Excuse me, but why are you asking those questions?"

Apparently, Mr. Daily explained his reasoning to Miss Adams, because she noticeably relaxed. Eventually she smiled and said, "I'm sorry, but you'll have to ask Matilda."

"Really?" he asked, with a puzzled look on his face. It was almost as if he were stunned by the thought of talking with a child.

"Absolutely. Matilda is the only one that can answer your questions," Miss Adams confirmed.

Mr. Daily moved so he was standing directly in front of me, then suddenly he got down on one knee, placing him well within striking distance. Before he could say anything I smiled and said, "I'm sorry Mr. Daily, I just can't marry you."

There was one of those magical moments when you could have heard a pin drop, just before everyone broke out laughing, including RJ and Mr. Daily.

Once Mr. Daily could control his laughter, he said, "Of course not! Besides, my wife would object." Which brought on more laughter.

Eventually, Mr. Daily settled down enough to ask, "I want to ask you about your problem. I'd like to know how well the UnderJams work for you, how they feel, and why you're not afraid of going out in public. Please, don't think I'm trying to embarrass you. You see, I have a six-year-old daughter, her name is Abigail, and she has a problem similar to yours, only she refuses to leave the house and rarely leaves her bedroom."

I thought for a moment, then quietly answered, "Honesty, I've only been using the UnderJams for a few days. They got them for me just before we left on this trip because, well, while we're traveling, there's no way of knowing if there will be a restroom close by, when I need one. I didn't like the protection I was using before the UnderJams. They crinkled and they were noisy when I moved, so everyone around me knew what I was wearing. They also didn't fit very well, so I was constantly reminded I was wearing them. These are quiet and fit comfortably. If I don't think about it, I can almost forget I'm wearing them."

Mr. Daily thought for a moment, then commented, "That's good information, thank you. You know, I like the term protection, it's more descriptive of the function rather than a nappy. Umm, how absorbent are they?"

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Well, to put it bluntly, do they leak?"

"Like I said, I've only had these for a few days, but the one time I couldn't get to a restroom, they didn't leak."

"Only once - you don't use them all the time?" Mr. Daily seemed puzzled.

Mary Beth put her arm around me, protectively, and added, "If we can get to a restroom every hour and a half, to two hours, we have no problem holding our water and everything is good. Two hours, to two and a half hours, is pushing our limit and we better get to a restroom quickly."

It was embarrassing, but I continued, "After two hours, there will be some leakage, as I fight to maintain control over some weak muscles. If I have to push it much past two and a half hours, I better be wearing full protection, which the UnderJams provide."

"Humm, that's different than Abigail, she uses her nap ... er ... protection all the time."

"Does she have to?" I asked.

"What do you mean, have to?" he asked.

"Well, does Abigail have a medical condition, a reason why she can't hold her water, or does she use them because that's what she's expected to do?" I asked.

Mr. Daily thought about my question, and his daughter, before answering, "I know she doesn't have a medical condition, we've had that checked out. As for the rest, I don't know. I know that she won't talk with me about her problem. I wonder if she'd talk to - ? Matilda, would you be willing talk with my Abigail?"

"Gee, I guess I could try. I don't know why she'd talk with me about her problem?" I questioned.

Miss Adams answered my questions, "Two reasons; first, Abigail may feel more comfortable opening up to you, because you have a similar condition and are close to the same size, as the old saying goes 'misery loves company'. Second, you've never met before, so there is no risk of being judged or criticized."

"That makes sense. I guess I can talk with her, I'm always willing to help others. Will your wife bring Abigail here, or will you go get her," I asked.

"Oh, no. If it’s all right with you, I would like to take you to her," Mr. Daily stated.

There was another one of those magic moments. Once again Mary Beth put her arms around me and said, "Matilda isn’t going anywhere without me, at her side!"

"Or me." Miss Adams added.

"Or me. And I haven't decided if we're going!" RJ stated emphatically.

"When does our flight to Edinburgh leave?" Miss Adams asked RJ.

RJ looked at the tickets and the clock on the office wall, and replied, "They should start boarding in two hours - fifty minutes."

"And how far away from the airport is your residence Mr. Daily?" Miss Adams inquired.

"Oh, depending on the traffic, it'll take between fifteen to twenty minutes each way." was Mr. Daily's reply.

"Well, it looks like we have the time. I guess the next question is, does Matilda want to talk with Abigail. Well Matilda, what do you say?" was the next question Miss Adams posed.

'Once again, all eyes were on me. I think I've said it before, but I really don't like being the center of attention.'

"I'm still not sure what good it would do, me talking with Abigail. I suppose if Mr. Daily thinks it will help, I'm willing to give it a go," I quietly replied.

"Great, let me call my wife and let her know we're coming," Mr. Daily said, as he went to his desk.

"Are you sure you're okay with this?" Miss Adams asked me.

"He seems to think I might be able to help. I don't know if I can help Abigail or not. I guess it won't hurt anything to talk with her. And, as long as all of you are with me, I won't worry about any sudden trips to France," I quietly replied.

“What’s wrong with going to France?” Mary Beth asked.

“There’s nothing wrong with going to France, as long as you’re going because you want to go to France,” Miss Adams replied.

“And you haven’t been kidnapped!” I added.

Mary Beth suddenly had a light go on above her head, as she remembered our last adventure.

Miss Adam turned to Mary Beth and quietly asked, "We have a problem, holding our water? I wasn't aware that you had a problem. I was of the understanding that Matilda was the only one that had a little problem."

Mary Beth put her arms around me and pulled me close, saying, "Hey, if my partner has a problem, then I have a problem."

Miss Adams looked at the two of us for a moment, then replied, "I think that's study partner."

Mary Beth eased off on her grip so I could sit up, and callously replied, "Whatever!"

"It's settled then," Mr. Daily announced, as he hung up the phone. "You know, I was expecting that Matilda would need an escort, I just wasn't expecting such a large escort. It will be a little tight, but the five of us should fit in my car. The four bags should fit in the boot, okay." Mr. Daily said, as he tossed the UnderJams back into my bag and zipped it closed.

Picking up my bag, Mr. Daily started for the door, "We'd better get a move on."

Mr. Daily was moving quickly as we followed after him. Down one hallway, turn left, part way down a second hallway and through a locked door that he had a key for. Then we went down some stairs and then along another hallway, with lots of pipes hanging from the ceiling. Then up a flight of stairs and through another locked door. As Mr. Daily closed and locked the door, we were a short distance from some automatic, sliding, glass doors. We followed Mr. Daily through the glass doors and across the concrete platform, stopping just short of the, yellow painted, curb. As we were exiting the terminal and crossing the platform, Mr. Daily was talking with someone on his radio.

Shortly after we stopped at the curb, a bus pulled up and stopped right in front of us. The doors opened and Mr. Daily wasted no time in stepping aboard. Of course, we followed and quickly sat in the first available seats.

"Thanks George," Mr. Daily said, as he patted the driver's shoulder. "I really appreciate this, were kind of in a hurry."

"No problem, Malcolm. What's the rush?" George asked, as we pulled away from the curb.

"Strange as it may seem, this small yank, may be able to help my Abigail," Mr. Daily replied.

"Really, that'd be grand. She's not much bigger than yur Abi. Ya sure she can help?'

"I don't know for sure, but nothing we've tried so far, has helped."

"Well, g-luck. We still on fer pool at ta pub tomorrow?"

"Sure thing, be there at half seven."

"Right you are. Well, here be your car, mate," George said, as the bus came to a stop.

"Thanks again, George. We'll see you back here in about an hour and a half."

"Right oh."

"You did say your car was on the small side, are you sure we'll all fit?" Mary Beth asked, as Mr. Daily was opening the trunk of . . . no, the boot of a dark blue Mini Cooper.

"I did say it would be tight. Also a good thing you don't have any added luggage. These four bags will be a snug fit in the boot," Mr. Daily replied. After the four bags were in and the boot was forced shut, he continued. "I think it will be best if you three ladies occupy the rear seat, while RJ and I sit up front."

I looked in at the back seat and knew I'd be sitting on someone's lap. Miss Adams got in first, sliding across to the other side. I got in next, but I didn't sit down. I leaned over the front seats while Mary Beth got in and sat down. Once Mary Beth was settled, I rotated and sat on her lap, with my legs between Mary Beth and Miss Adams and my arms around Mary Beth's neck. The two gentlemen got in and we were off.

"You two did that so smoothly, I'd guess that you do a lot of sitting on your friends lap," Mr. Daily said, as we pulled out of the parking lot.

"No, this is the first time that the Munchkin has been sitting on my lap," Mary Beth confessed.

"Munchkin?" Mr. Daily asked.

"That's what the other kids at school call me, just a nickname," I explained.

"I see," Mr. Daily acknowledged.

Looking into Mary Beth's eyes, I softly added, "Actually, I kind of like this, we're almost at eye level with each other this way."

"It wouldn't be bad, if your butt wasn't so boney," Mary Beth teased.

"It's a perfect match for your boney knees," I countered.

"Now girls, let's not start that. This car is too small for one of your bosom buddy sessions," Miss Adams cautioned, before we really had a chance to get going.

We both sighed at having the wind stolen from our sails.

"Oh, all right. You sure know how to spoil a girl's fun," I complained.

Miss Adams shook her head and smiled.

As we traveled, I let my head rest on Mary Beth's shoulder and closed my eyes. I was remembering a few weeks back, when I was the one complaining about wearing a particular type of protection. More important, I was trying to remember the conversation I'd had with Ellen, on the subject.

Mr. Daily had accuracy stated the time it would take to reach his home. As I felt the car come to a stop, I heard Miss Adams whisper, "Mary Beth, I think it's time to wake Matilda."

"I'm not asleep," I said, as I lifted my head and opened my eyes. "Just thinking."

"We're in trouble now, the Munchkin has been thinking again," Mary Beth teased.

I smiled and replied, "Everyone can relax, no plans for world domination . . . this time."

"This time?" RJ questioned, as he got out.

"Exactly. The last plan was a bust, however I have some new ideas cooking in the dark recesses of my evil mind," I replied, as I stood so Mary Beth could get out.

While giggling, Miss Adams asked "How long do they need to cook?"

"If you see steam coming out of her ears it's time to put some distance between you and her," Mary Beth jokingly replied.

Joining in the spirit of the conversation, Mr. Daily asked, as he opened the boot to get my bag, "Will we be safe with half a planet between us?"

"It's hard to say, we are talking about world domination. Although, she's still having trouble with taking over the school," Mary Beth teased.

"Of course, she did managed to get one family arrested and on their way to some very long prison terms," RJ added, as we headed for the door of a two story structure, which reminded me of something from Harry Potter.

Mr. Daily paused, before opening the door and looked at us with some concern in his eyes.

I quickly added, "They were involved in child abuse and child pornography."

"And you got them sent to prison?" Mr. Daily asked.

"Let's just say, I was part of the team that found a solution to the problem," I replied, trying to down play the whole episode.

Mr. Daily looked at me, and then RJ and Miss Adams for a moment. Eventually he shrugged his shoulders and opened the door, and we followed him into his home.

As we entered, Mary Beth whispered in my ear, "Part of the team?"

"Well, I was," I replied.

"Yeah, like Joan of Arc was just part of the French army," Mary Beth muttered, as she followed me inside.

I smiled to myself, thinking, 'She really has been paying attention in history.'

We came to a stop just inside the door. Mary Beth, being the last to enter, closed the door.

"Everyone in?" Mr. Daily asked, then started in with the introductions. "Everyone, I'd like you to meet my wife, Eliza. Eliza, this RJ, but don't ask me what RJ stands for. Moving on, we have Miss Wednesday Adams. The young lady by the door is Mary Beth and the other young lady is Matilda."

"Mel, you said that a yank named Matilda was going to chat with Abi, but I was expecting someone, well, someone not so tiny," Eliza said, to her husband.

Mary Beth quickly put her arms around me, so I couldn't get within striking distance.

As Mr. Daily pulled his wife back, he explained, "Relax my dear. Matilda may be a bit small on the outside, but they tell me she's got a big heart and she's quite intelligent."

My fury being defused by Mr. Daily's complement, I asked, "Does Abigail know that I'm coming to have a chat with her?"

"I told her that someone from America was coming to have a chat with her," Mrs. Daily replied. "She ran up to her room complaining 'she was tired of people coming round to chat'. I can take you up to her room."

"If you don't mind, I think it will be better if we had a private little chat. If you would tell me where to find her room?" I asked.

Mrs. Daily looked at me suspiciously. Mr. Daily picked up on his wife's anxiety and gave her a hug and whispered something in her ear. She quickly relaxed and asked, "Really?"

Mr. Daily nodded and said, "Matilda, Abigail's room is upstairs, the last door on your left."

I picked up my bag and started for the stairs. I was part way up when I overhead Mrs. Daily ask, "Is she moving in?"

I smiled and kept going, I knew the others would take care of explaining things to Mrs. Daily. Knowing Miss Adams, she'll probably talk with the Daily's while I was talking with Abigail. Arriving at the top of the stairs, I started down the hall. The first door on my left was closed. The second door was open slightly, revealing a bathroom. I knocked gentle on the third door.

"Mum, I said I don't wana chat with no yank shrink." I heard Abigail call out.

Turning the knob I pushed the door open and replied, "Then it's a good thing I'm not a shrink."

Inside the room, a startled Abigail turned to look at me. The room was about the size of my room back home, before I came to live at the Manor. It was obvious that Abigail spent a lot of time here, the bed was rumpled, there were dolls and other toys scattered around, some on shelves and others in what was a play area. Abigail herself was obviously not expecting visitors, she was wearing a colorful sweater, black knee socks, and what was unmistakably a diaper, which seemed like it was just a little too small.

"Who the heck is you?" she asked.

"I'm Matilda," I replied, with a smile. After I entered the room, I closed the door. "Your dad thought it would be a good idea if we could chat for a while."

"Mum said dad was bringing some body to chat with me, bout the nappies. I expected someone bigger."

"Nobody bigger, just me. Could we sit down?"

"OK," she said a little glumly, as she sat at one end of her bed.

I sat at the other end and asked, "Just between you and me, do you like wearing diapers, I mean, wearing nappies."

"NO! I hate um."

"So why are you wearing them and why don't you wear something over them?" I asked bluntly.

"When we're at home, mum says it's easier to change me if I don't wear pants. When I don't wear the nappies I . . . sometimes I have accidents," she said sadly.

"Your dad says you won't go out and that you spend most of your day hiding in your room, is that right"

"Well, how would you like to wear nappies all the time, having people looking at you like you was a over growed baby?"

From here I had enough information to break into a discussion about the difference between a handicap and an inconvenience. Thank you Ellen.

After we finished talking about having our problem not being a handicap Abigail asked, "You're sure smart, but how come you know how I feel?"

I thought for a moment, trying to decide how to answer that question. I finally decided to be honest and up front with her. "About a month ago, I talked with someone else about the same problem."

"You know someone else like me?" Abigail interrupted.

"As a matter of fact, I do. I was on the receiving end of that conversation," I admitted.

"What?" Abigail clearly didn't understand.

They say that a picture is worth a thousand words. With that in mind, I slipped off the bed and raised my skirt. It took Abigail a few moments to realize what I was wearing.

With her eyes wide and one hand over her mouth, she pointed at me and exclaimed, "You too?"

Shrugging my shoulders I replied, "Me too."

"What are you wearing? It don't look like a nappy."

I dropped my skirt and picked up my small suitcase. Putting the suitcase on the bed, I opened it and handed two of the underJams to Abigail.

"They're called UnderJams. They got them for me for this trip. We couldn't be sure I'd be able to find a restroom when I needed, so I've got these for just in case."

"If you are wearing these, why not go in them?" Abigail asked.

"Because I don't want to. And, I'm trying to strengthen my muscles so I won't need to wear protection all the time," I calmly proclaimed.

"Straighten your muscles, how do you do that?"

"No, not straighten, strengthen. That means to make my muscles stronger."

Of course that led into some questions about what I was doing to strengthen my bladder muscles. Unfortunately, my PDA alarm went off during our talk, which prompted more questions. Not wanting to change what I was wearing, I asked to use the loo and recommend that Abigail change, into one of the UnderJam I'd given her, while I was out of the room.

As I returned I had to stifle a giggle, seeing Abigail in the UnderJam, instead of her nappy, but still not wearing a skirt or pants. I helped her into a skirt and suggested we go downstairs.

"There's my princess," Mr. Daily exclaimed, when he saw Abigail. He opened his arms wide and Abigail ran over to her father. He scooped her up and hugged her tight.

I smiled, seeing the loving bond between father and daughter. Sadly, that loving bond was something I would never know.

Abigail was whispering in her father's ear. His responses were somewhat vague, but I could tell she was telling him about me and our chat.

"Yes, I know she does." "That was very kind of her." "No, I couldn't tell." "Of course we will." "As soon as I get off work." "You are. That's great, sweetheart." "Did you tell her thank you?" "You forgot." "Don't you think you should?"

At that point, Mr. Daily kissed Abigail's cheek then set her down. She scurried over to where I was standing and threw her arms around me.

"Thank you, Matilda."

"You are very welcome, Abigail," I replied, with a smile.

"Malcolm, we need to get back to the airport," RJ pointed out.

"Of course, of course. We wouldn't want you to miss your flight. Good bye my love," Mr. Daily said, and then he tenderly kissed his wife. To Abigail he said, "Bye, bye princess. I'll see you soon." Then he kissed her on the top of her head.

We quickly went out and squeezed back into Mr. Daily's Mini Cooper.

As I was resting my head on Mary Beth's shoulder, I whispered, "Mrs. Daily looked like she had been crying. What was going on while I was with Abigail?"

She turned her head and whispered back, "I'll tell you about it later."

When we got close to the airport Mr. Daily called his friend, the bus driver. We were getting our travel cases out of the back of the mini when George pulled up with his bus. We quickly got on board as Mr. Daily thanked George for getting there so fast.

After being taken to the main terminal, Mr. Daily led us to the security checkpoint for airport employees. After he talked to the security agents briefly, we were all cleared through the checkpoint, after producing our ID's, boarding passes and having our bags x-rayed again. Mr. Daily stayed with us until we got to our departure gate, which we arrived at just as they were starting to board the rest of the passengers.

As we were getting in line Mr. Daily dropped down on one knee in front of me. Before he could say anything I jumped in with a little sarcasm.

"I'm really sorry, but like I told you before, I just can't marry you, Mr. Daily."

After chuckling and shaking his head twice, Mr. Daily replied, "Of course you can't, Matilda. But, I do want to thank you. I haven't seen Abigail that happy and full of smiles for a very long time."

"I didn't do much. We just had a friendly little chat, girl to girl."

"Well, whatever you two talked about, it must have been done the trick. Thank you."

"You're welcome."

"When you get home, will you write to Abigail? I know she would love to hear from you and she'd feel extra special to have an American pen pal."

I looked up at RJ, questioningly. He nodded in reply. Looking back at Mr. Daily, I smiled as I replied, "It will be a pleasure to correspond with Abigail."

The line started moving and we waved goodbye to Mr. Daily. I've only traveled by air a few times, but this has been the strangest, yet most rewarding, layover yet. And, I'm sure it will be sometime before I'll experience a layover that would top this one.

Once we were in the air, I turned to Mary Beth and asked, "So why did Mrs. Daily look like she'd been crying?"

"Because she had been," came Mary Beth's reply.

"Okay, so why had she been crying?" I asked, trying to get a little more information.

"Miss Adams was talking with Mr. and Mrs. Daily about Abigail's problem when Mrs. Daily started crying. After that she admitted to Mr. Daily that she's been keeping Abigail in diapers. That she’s been sabotaging Abigail’s potty training efforts, for the last four years, just so Abigail would have to wear diapers and be dependent on her."

"But why? Why would someone do that to their own child?" I asked.

"Something happened when Abigail was born and Mrs. Daily can't have any more children. So, she wanted to keep her Abigail as a baby as long as she could."

"Well, I suppose that is somewhat understandable and possibly forgivable."

"I guess. It’s not as if she was trying to force her daughter to be a boy," Mary Beth concluded.

"You're talking about my dad again."

"Partly, also my mom's reaction to you. You know, maybe my mom and your dad should have gotten together, they share the same ideas and attitude about a lot of things."

"MayBee, now that's a scary thought, two bigots on a mad crusade to eliminate diversity from the human race."

"When you put it like that, it is scary."

"Ladies and Gentlemen, we'll be landing in Edinburgh shortly. Thank you for flying with British Airways."

Another airport and another visit with the customs people. Fortunately everything was routine, there was no excitement and nobody was accused of smuggling narcotics. After being cleared through customs, we took a shuttle bus to our hotel.

As we were getting off the shuttle bus, I noticed a line of small shops on the other side of the road. Teasing RJ again, I asked, "Hey, that's convenient, there's a toy shop across the street. Can we get some balloons?"

Mary Beth giggled a little.

Miss Adams smiled and shook her head.

RJ looked at me funny, I think he was trying to figure out if I was serious. Eventually he simply said "No."

"Oh well, I guess we'll have to go with plan 'B', paper airplanes," I said, with a big smile.

"Matilda!" RJ said, with a bit more emphasis.

"She's just teasing you RJ. We'll be good," Mary Beth told him.

"I think I should hear it from her," RJ stated.

I smiled and replied, "RJ, I promise that I will take no action that would bring shame or embarrassment to either myself or the school, which we are here to represent."

Miss Adams asked RJ, "Was that a promise to be good?"

"I'm not sure," he replied.

Laughing, I confirmed, "I'm sure."

After a little more verbal debating we went into the hotel. RJ took care of getting us checked in. RJ and Miss Adams each had their own room while Mary Beth and I were sharing a room, no surprise or complaint there. I mean, I really didn't want my own room, I was perfectly happy sharing a room with Mary Beth.

We took our bags up to our rooms. Mary Beth and I were laying on one of the beds, talking about the last day and a half, when there was a knock on our door. Being nearest, Mary Beth slipped off the bed and went to the door. I followed along, just a few steps behind her. Assuming it was RJ or Miss Adams to collect us for dinner, I picked up the room key and slipped it in my pocket, with my PDA.

As Mary Beth opened the door I discovered my assumption was in error. Standing in the hall was Miss Adams and RJ.

"You two ready for dinner," asked Miss Adams.

"Yes, ma'am," Mary Beth replied.

"One of you have your room key?" RJ asked.

"Right here," I answered, while patting my skirt pocket.

Dinner was interesting, Mary Beth and I were given the freedom to order for ourselves. Because of the time we'd spent learning the language and customs, the menu held very few surprises. The only real surprise was when the waiter handed me their children's menu. It was a good thing for him that he was out of range, because he’d set my blood on fire. I really need to control that a little better, unfortunately it would be sometime before I made any real progress in that area.

After dinner RJ hired a cab and we did a little sightseeing. We drove around the Edinburgh Castle and through what is called Edinburgh Old Town. We went past the Edinburgh Dungeon, which looked like it would have been a fun place to go in, but they were closed for the night. Then we drove past the Scottish Parliament building and the Palace of Holyroodhouse. The sun was going down so RJ had the driver take us back to our hotel.

Once back in our room, we changed into our jammies, read our scriptures, said our prayers, and crawled into bed. It had been a long day and we were both very tired.

Friday, February 18, 2005.

We woke early, for some strange reason. A strange bed and Mother Nature probably had something to do with it. Whatever the reason, we both felt rested and ready to face the day. Showered and dressed, we were working on the schoolwork that had been loaded on our PDA's, when RJ and Miss Adams came to get us for breakfast.

"In your school uniforms?" Miss Adams inquired.

"It was her idea," Mary Beth professed.

"Matilda?" RJ excelled at one or two questions.

"Well, we are here as representatives from our school. I just thought this would make a good impression. After all, we're just innocent young school girls, at least that's what they're supposed to think, right?"

RJ smiled and replied, "Well, school girls at least, I'm not so sure about you being innocent."

Miss Adams giggled and ask, "Who's hungry?"

The hotel had a breakfast buffet set up. There were a few unusual items, along with all the regularly breakfast foods.

After breakfast we went back to our rooms and finished repacking our bags. Back downstairs, we checked out and RJ arranged for a cab to take us to the address of the Breen Marketing Company. I was surprised that we weren't in an industrial complex, but rather what appeared to be an older section of Edinburgh, with small shops lining both sides of the street.

"Can we look through some of these shops after we're done?" Mary Beth asked.

"Perhaps, we'll have to see how much time we have," RJ replied.

RJ led us past a toy shop, a cobblers shop, and a small bakery, before stopping in front of an unmarked door. Opening the door we went down a long, well lit, hallway. At the end of the hall was another door, it was locked, but there was a small speaker grill on the wall with a button just to the side.

Without any hesitation RJ pressed the button and said, "Mr. Wentworth to see Shawn Ramsey."

Almost immediately, there was an electrically buzzing, a click, and the door opened an inch. RJ pushed the door open and held it while we all went through. Inside was a well-appointed waiting room.

"We'll leave our suitcases here," RJ informed us, as he stood his in a corner, followed by the other three. Then we sat down to wait.

It was about ten minutes before the door on the other side of the waiting room opened. A tall man, in his mid-thirties I guessed, came in and quickly crossed the small room. RJ stood, so we all stood.

"RJ, Good ta see ye again, lad-die."

"It a pleasure to be back here, Shawn."

"And who be these beautiful ladies ye brung with ye?" Shawn asked.

RJ then did the introductions, "Everyone, this is Shawn Ramsey, he's the sales manager here. Shawn, this is Miss Wednesday Adams, she's one of our teachers. Currently she's acting as chaperone for these two young ladies. This young lady is one of our computer wizards, Matilda McNeil. We also have Matilda's study partner, Mary Beth Phelps."

"Tis indeed a pleasure ta meet such lovely ladies," Shawn said, while shaking hands with each of us. "RJ, will they be joining us in the showroom?"

"Mary Beth and Matilda will be joining us. Miss Adams will wait for us here," RJ replied.

"They'll have ta sign a non-disclosure greement, like ye did, when ye was here afore," Shawn stated.

"That's not a problem, Shawn."

Shawn went back to the door he'd come through. Entering a code into a keypad, he left us alone for a few moments.

"Here ye be," Shawn said, as he returned. "Read um over an sign the last page."

As I was quickly reading the three page document, I motioned for RJ to bend down to whispering distance.

"Is there a problem Matilda?" RJ quietly asked.

"Doesn't this go against what you want me to do in there?" I whispered.

"Not at all. This is to assure them that you won't tell their competitors what you see or what they are working on. What we want you to do is keep them honest and help us get the most for our money," came his hushed reply.

After signing the forms we were each given VISITOR badge and we followed Shawn through the door. Immediately in front of us was a glass wall. There was a door about five feet away, towards the left side, with a sign above it that said SECURITY. There were halls going left and right, from where we were standing. Shawn turned right and headed down that hall, naturally we followed him.

Through the glass wall, I saw a dozen work stations where they appeared to be assembling, what looked like, PDA's. The area was obviously a white room, because of how everyone was dressed.

We past several offices, on the right, before we came to the door at the end of the hall. Shawn opened the door and held it while we went through. We found ourselves in a room, about twenty feet square, that was nicely furnished, very modern compared to the shops out on the street.

There were some padded chairs along the walls and a few small tables, here and there. On one of the tables was a device I recognized and I crossed the room to that table.

"Is this what I think it is?" I asked.

"If ye is thinking it be a tricorder from the original Star Trek, then ye be correct. More precisely a medical tricorder. That's been ta inspiration for quite a few of our products. Like this little device," Shawn replied, as he picked up a small device which he pointed at me.

"Let's see now, blood pressure is ninety-two over forty-seven. Respiration, twelve. Heartbeat, seventy-three. Body temperature, seventy-two. These readns look to be perfectly normal, for a young male Andorian."

"Andorian?" RJ asked, in surprise.

"And a male Andorian at that," I stated, with a bit of surprise.

"I always knew there was a reason you kept your room so much colder than the rest of the school," Mary Beth teased.

"Ta engineers still be working on this. We have some others that work very well," Shawn said, as he set the device back on the table. "But, what ye be here ta see, be the PDA's, they be over here." He led us to the table in the center of the room.

On the three foot diameter table was a three level Plexiglas display case, with a variety of PDA's on display. They appeared to be arranged by size, and I guessed date of manufacture, from bottom to top.

Lifting the PDA off the top of the display, Shawn handed it to RJ, saying, "This be ta enhanced version of ta PDA's ye were testing. It has all ta upgrades that ye talked about."

RJ looked it over, balanced it in his hand, "It doesn't seem to be any heaver."

"She is, but only by a few grams," Shawn replied.

RJ turned it on and went through a few menus. Then he glanced at the system information, memory used and available, and the cpu speed options. Looking at Shawn, he said, "Very nice, very nice indeed, but how does it stand up to a little abuse?"

Shawn looked surprised, "What do ye mean by abuse?"

Smiling, RJ handed me the PDA, saying, "Matilda, you may - indulge yourself."

* * * To Be Continued * * *

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