Ducks to Water
Greer Watson

When she got up that morning, the Secretary was surprised to discover, in her top drawer, a one-piece garment of a type that she had never seen in the clubhouse before.  She had, of course, tried the baths (albeit when Gurgos was not around); but, on the whole, she preferred to take her ablutions in a good old-fashioned American-style bathroom with a tub and taps—and a shower, if she was in a hurry.  The house was very obliging.

She looked at the bathing suit thoughtfully, put on her robe, and went over to the window.  Sweeping the net curtain aside with one hand, she inspected the landscape.

It appeared that they had acquired a pond.

She came down fully dressed to her breakfast, and found—as usual—that the early-rising Greeks had eaten before her, or taken their food out of doors to the porch.

It was going to be another hot day.  Perhaps, she thought, the house had the right idea, conjuring up a pond to cool off.  She made herself a cup of coffee, heat or no, and decided on cereal.  The larder had become quite versatile in its offerings, and no longer limited her to a mid-century English selection.  The antiquated cooking facilities of Christmas had also reverted to normal … her normal … and the refrigerator was a magnificent double-door model that she would have given her eye teeth for when she was alive.

After breakfast, she wandered out to inspect the polity.  The pond was quite charming, with ducks—mallards, mostly—and a muddy area on the far side that was thick with reeds and bulrushes, setting off the water most picturesquely.  A willow she didn’t remember swept its mane of branches low and trailed its leaves.  She suspected fish, maybe goldfish (though the pond was a bit large for a mere goldfish pond).  It was all very pretty; and there was a bit of a welcome breeze, riffling the water and tossing the leaves.

She walked around the pond, finding that the stream on the far side was bridged by a small stone span that looked a century old at least, with a waist-high parapet.  She hung over it for a while, watching the ducks upend themselves.  Finally, she walked back to the house, passing a cluster of Ancients sitting in the shade of the willow, contemplating the pond.  “This is a curious place,” said Phaedo, “with its comings and goings.”

These invitations and interviews are written purely for entertainment, and as a tribute to the creator of the characters and author of the books, Mary Renault.   No copyright infringement is intended.

The story, “ITOW – Ducks to Water”, was posted to maryrenaultfics on 31 August 2010 by greerwatson.