Diptych

Petunia for days on end had been striving hard to sunbathe her heartbreak away. The suburban planetoid she called home had all but dipped to shadowside, meaning the sun-lounger on which she reclined was subject only to the very last traces of the condition for which it was named. That was why Petunia thought at first the dusky slanting beams must be playing tricks on her eyes, but when she pulled herself up into a sitting stance and peeped blinking over the rims of her sunglasses she found she really did recognise the crimson-coloured interplanetary racer parked opposite in the lane. Her astonishment jumped about ten petuns at once, and her heart began to beat. For there standing by the gate were Flashtease and Joe.

“Oh!” was Petunia’s greeting.

And at once she ran to let them in. This may have seemed an odd reaction from a girl who’d spent the best part of a week vehemently regarding one of these visitors as the architect of her anguish, but less so from one who throughout that time had never stopped yearning for this moment all the same. Now the mere sight of Petunia’s two friends worked more change upon her glumness than an infinity of sunglasses and sun-loungers.

She was also glad they were out in the garden, because their muddy feet were simply dreadful. Petunia couldn’t imagine where they’d been to get them like that, but her bedroom rug would never have been the same again.

The three of them sat side-by-side and for a while talked softly and contentedly, Joe and Flashtease at first never straying beyond praise for how pretty Petunia looked, and what a good job she did keeping her flowerbeds neat, and how much they had missed her. It was not that Joe could claim to be any expert on the hearts of young girls, but today of all days he knew more about Petunia’s feelings than she herself probably did. He had started his morning mulling over how her contemporary Flashtease was growing up fast, and although Joe could not imagine Petunia’s childhood had been packed with adventure and excitement after the fashion of the Flash Club glory days he had glimpsed at the archive, her life as a little girl was nevertheless now made up of comparable sunshiny spaces and states of being that would never come again. In its place was something easily as frightening to confront as those fallout shelter walls had been to Joe, for just like him, Petunia was facing a future where all was suddenly more complex and more consequential than anything the halcyon days could have prepared her for. Just a little kindness then, offered by one who had power to give, seemed to our hero the best available comfort. As was so often the case, the example to follow was that of Intelligentsor.

It appeared to be having some effect too, for presently Petunia interjected in a very small voice:

“I didn’t mean it when I told you I thought your jacket was stupid. Actually I really like your jacket. I just wanted to say something beastly,” and a flurry of tears followed.

“My vanity was not wounded, Petunia,” Joe reassured her, rationalizing that this one tiny half-truth served a greater good. “But it would make me happier still to know you were likewise sorry for the far harsher words you spoke against Neetra,” he added gently.

“She’s ever so nice, Petunia,” Flashtease implored her. “And she’d love you. You’d really get on. It would be the best thing in the universe for me and Joe to see the pair of you friends one day.”

But Petunia kept on crying. Joe understood.

Mini-Flash Frill, carrying a folded-up brown garment, stepped onto the starship's bridge.

“It was getting chilly in here,” declared Neetra. “So you’re a sight for sore eyes!”

“I’m not the only one,” observed Mini-Flash Frill, handing Neetra her tunic. “Are you sure you want to cover up nice knickers like those?”

“They’re not as pretty as yours,” Neetra replied. “Actually I need to schedule in a shopping trip with you between saving the universe and going home. And Frill, you’re a dab hand with the fabric regenerator! Look at that, it’s good as new. Which is just as well, because I’d never have been able to explain to Flashthunder how I got his spare outfit in such a state – ”

At that very moment he of whom she spoke burst in, accompanied by Flashlight and Mini-Flash Socket. The three boys were apparently quite flurried already, but this paled to insignificance when they caught sight of Neetra. With fitful blushes and palpitations they averted their eyes at once, colliding with each other and entangling themselves in a kind of rugby-scrum of decorous conduct.

“Guys,” Neetra beseeched them. “Tiny bit of privacy?”

“Talk about small moving parts,” Mini-Flash Frill added with a smirk.