I put everything back the way I found it.

About 1.0 a.m. the front door chimed. I answered it from bed. ‘Who is it?'

‘It's me, Mama. Donald.'

(Dirty names!) ‘Well, come in.'

‘I can't, it's bolted.'

‘Sorry, I'm not awake yet. I'll be down.' I grabbed a robe, found some slippers, went downstairs and let my youngest son in. ‘Come in, Donald. Sit down. When did you eat last?'

‘Uh, I grabbed a Big Mac in Bethany.'

‘Oh, Lordy.' I fed him first.

When he had polished off all of a giant Dagwood and had eaten a big dish of chocolate ice-cream, I said, ‘All right, why did you come here?'

‘You know why, Mama. To see Priss. I know you said she didn't need me... but you're mistaken. Ever since she was a baby girl, when she was in trouble, she came to me. So I know she needs me.'

(Oh, dear! I should have fought it in court. I should not have left my two youngest in the custody of - Regrets, regrets! Father, why did you have to go get yourself killed in the Battle of Britain? I need your advice. And I miss you dreadfully!) ‘Donald, Priscilla is not here.'

‘Where is she?'

‘I won't tell you.'

Donald looked stubborn. ‘I won't go back to Grinnell without seeing her.'

‘That's your problem. Donald, you two have outworn both my patience and my resourcefulness. You ignore my advice and disobey necessary orders and you are each too big to spank. I have nothing else to offer.'

‘You won't tell me where she is?'

‘No.'

He heaved a big sigh. I'm going to stay here until I see her.'

‘That's what you think. Son; you are not the only stubborn member of this family. Any more of your lip and I'll call your father and tell him to come get you because I can't handle you -‘

‘I won't go!'

‘- and then close this house and take an apartment for myself at the Kansas Citian - a single apartment, big enough for a sand box for Polly, not big enough for another person. I was about to move into an apartment when you and your sister showed up... so I changed my plans and rented this house, especially for you two. But neither of you have treated me decently and I'm sick of trying. I'm going to bed. You can stretch out on that couch and get a nap. But if you are not gone when I get up, I intend to call your father and tell him to come get you.'

‘I won't go with him!'

‘Your problem. The next step could be juvenile court but that is up to your father. As a result of your choice, six years ago, he has custody.' I stood up, then recalled something. ‘Donald, do you know marijuana when you sec it?'

‘Uh... maybe.'

‘Do you, or don't you?'

‘Yeah... I do.'

‘Wait here.' I was back in a few moments. ‘What is this?'

‘That's marijuana. But, shucks, Mama, everybody does marijuana now and then.'

‘I don't. And no one living in this house is permitted to. Tell me what this is for.' I reached into one pocket of my robe, got out that mirror so inappropriate to a girl's room, reached more carefully into the other pocket, got out that single-edged razor blade, placed it on the mirror. ‘Well?'

‘What am I supposed to say?'

‘Did you ever cut a line of cocaine?'

‘Uh... no.'

‘Have you seen it done?'

‘Uh... Mama, if you are trying to tell me that Priss is hooked on coke, all I can say is that you must be out of your mind. Of course, most kids these days have tried it once or twice but -‘

‘You have tried it?'

‘Well, sure. The janitor at our school sold it. But I didn't like it. It rots your nose out - did you know that?'

‘I knew that. Has Priss tried it?'

He looked at the mirror and blade. ‘I suppose so. It looks like it.'

‘Have you seen her try it?'

‘Uh... once. I chewed her out about it. Told her not to do it again.'

‘But, as you have told me and as she says herself, she doesn't like to take orders. And apparently did not take yours. I wonder if it's the janitor at her present school?'

‘Uh, it could be a teacher just as easily. Or one of the seniors, a Big Man on Campus. Or a book store. Lots of places. Mama, they clean up the neighbourhood dealers every now and then - doesn't make the least bit of difference; there's a new pusher the next week. The way I hear it, it's the same everywhere.'

I sighed. ‘It beats me, Donald. I'll get you a blanket to pull over you.'

‘Mama, why can't I sleep in my own bed?'

‘Because you're not supposed to be here at all. The only reason you're being indulged even this much is because I don't think it is safe to let you go back on the road without something to eat and a few hours sleep.'

I went back to bed, could not sleep. After about an hour I got up and did something I should have done earlier: I searched the maid's room.

I found the stash. It was between the mattress and the mattress cover, at the foot of the bed. I was tempted to taste the least trace of it, having some notion from biochemistry of what cocaine should taste like - but I had sense enough - or was chicken enough - not to risk it; there are street drugs that are dangerous in the tiniest amounts. I took it back up with me, locked it, the ‘grass' and the cigarette papers, and the mirror and blade, into a lock box I keep in my bedroom.

They won. I lost. They were too much for me.

I brought Priscilla home, cured but sullen as ever. Two Public Health officers, a man and a woman, called on us (Jim's doing, with my co-operation) almost as we were taking off our coats. They wanted to know, gently and politely, Priscilla's contacts - who could have given the bugs to her and to whom she could have passed them on.

‘What infections? I'm not ill, I never was ill. I've been held against my will in a conspiracy! Kidnapped and held prisoner! I'm going to sue somebody!'

‘But, Miss Smith, we have copies of your lab tests and your medical history. Here, look at them.'

Priscilla brushed them aside. ‘Lies! I'm not going to say another word without my lawyer.'

At which point I made yet another mistake. ‘But, Priscilla, I am a lawyer; you know that. What they're asking is quite reasonable, a matter of public health.'

I have never been looked at with such contempt. ‘You're not my lawyer. You're ore of the ones I'm going to sue. And these two characters, too, if they don't quit heckling me.' She turned her back and went upstairs.

I apologised to the two Public Health officers. I'm sorry, Mr Wren and Mrs Lantry, but I can't do anything with her, as you can see. I'm afraid you'll have to get her on the witness stand and under oath to get anything out of her.'

Mr Wren shook his head. ‘It would not work. In the first place, we have no way to put her on the stand; she has not broken any laws that we know of. And we don't know of anyone who has. In the second place, a youngster with her attitude simply takes the Fifth Amendment and shuts up.'

‘I'm not sure she knows what the Fifth Amendment is.'

‘You can bet she does, Mrs Johnson. Today all these kids are street smart and every ore of them is a chimney-corner lawyer, even in a rich neighbourhood like this ore. Put ore on the stand and he'll holler for a lawyer and the ACLU will supply one pronto. The ACLU figures it is more important to protect a teenager's right to clam up than it is to protect some other teenager from infection and sterility.'

‘That's ridiculous.'

‘Those are the conditions we work under, Mrs Johnson. If we don't get voluntary co-operation, we have no way to force it.'

‘Well... I can do one thing. I can go talk to her principal, tell him that be has VD running around loose in his school:

‘It won't do any good, Mrs Johnson. You will find that he is extremely leary of being sued.'

I thought about it... and had to admit (the lawyer in me) that I had nothing to tell the principal if Priscilla refused to co-operate. Ask him to run ‘short arm inspection' (Brian's Army slang for it) on all his older boys? He would have hundreds of parents on his neck before dark.