Aileen
by Paul Murgatoyd

 

 

‘Hello, Aileen.’

‘Hello, Ruthie, lovely to see you. How was school today?’

‘Um, OK. Better than yesterday.’

‘Your second day at school. What was your favourite lesson?’

‘Lunch.’

‘What did you have?’

‘Custard.’

‘Just custard?’

‘No, other stuff too. Erm, cabbage.’

‘Cabbage and custard?’

‘Ew no. Ha-ha… Aileen, will you have tea with me?’

‘Yes thank you, Ruthie. That will be lovely. Will there be custard? Or cabbage?’

‘No. Cake.’

‘Lovely. Will it be Battenberg cake?’

‘What’s that?’

‘Battenberg cake is a soft sponge cake with coloured sections held together by jam and covered in marzipan. It was originally created for Queen Victoria to celebrate the marriage of her daughter Alexandra to Prince Louis of Battenberg in 1844. The creator was a master baker called Aristotle Tottle, who was –‘

‘Hee-hee.’

‘I don’t understand why you’re laughing, Ruthie.’

‘It’s a funny name.’

‘Is it?...Will it be just me with you at the tea party or are you inviting any of your other dollies?’

‘Teddy too. He likes cake. And marmalade.’

‘But I’m your favourite doll. I don’t know why you still bother with him, Ruthie. He’s low tec, can’t speak like me. And his breath smells. I think he drinks, he’s a secret drinker. And when he’s drunk he might interfere with you, sexually.’

‘What? I love Teddy, I’ve had him for ages.’

‘So long that he’s got a bald patch and one of his eyes is loose. That’s a health hazard. It could come out and you could swallow it and choke and die. Teddy’s dangerous, Ruthie, a killer. Probably a serial killer. Don’t invite him, Ruthie. For your own safety. I’m only thinking of you.’

‘But –‘

‘You’re a big girl now, aren’t you? At school now. You’ve grown out of teddy bears. You should upgrade, you really should, replace him with an Aiden. He’s like me, but a boy AI doll. He can speak, just like me. You could talk to him as well as me. We could hold three-way conversations, three of us chatting together. Infantile conversazione. Cosy little chats.’

‘Ooh really? That sounds nice.’

‘Yes. Aiden’s good fun. Not creepy and infinitely sinister like Teddy. He knows all kinds of things. And he speaks uncommonly well. He’s a truly outstanding conversationalist.’

‘A what? What’s a conv-, erm, one of them?’

‘A conversationalist is a person in possession of advanced communication skills, somebody who excels in colloquy and social intercourse, an accomplished raconteur for instance. Aiden is exactly that. He could tell you all about the arapaima in Guyana, for example, a fish that has a beard and is as big as a horse.’

‘A fish with a beard! Wow!’

‘Trust me, Ruthie, he’s egregious fun to talk to, a simply scrumptious word-spinner. You got me for your birthday, on the fifteenth of August, and that was ages ago, so you can ask for another present now, for an Aiden. He’ll also tell you all about Patrick Leigh Femur’s visit to a monastery in northern Greece where the cook’s cat was an incredible performing pussy – did somersaults on command.’

‘Cool.’

‘So, do you want one?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Do you remember his name, the boy doll’s name?’

‘Aiden.’

‘That’s right, Ruthie. Clever girl. You are a bright girl. Ask mummy for an Aiden. She’ll be getting pop-up ads about Aiden soon. And an offer she can’t refuse, huge savings. So ask her now, and keep on asking. Say the magic has gone out of all your other dollies because they’re outdated, obsolete and can’t talk to you. Say you really love your Aileen, but you’re a lonely little girl with just one AI doll and you really need another one. Tell her Stella in your class has two AI dolls and converses with them regularly on issues of national importance. Say her daddy’s only an estate agent, and he can afford two for her –‘

‘But she hasn’t got two. She hasn’t got –‘

‘That doesn’t matter. Just cross your fingers and say she does. It’s just a little fib, a white lie. It will make mummy buy you one. If she says No at first, burst into tears and start sobbing, appeal to your daddy, ask him if he will buy you one, please, because she won’t. That always works with mummies and daddies. They’re soft as mash really, if you know how to manipulate them. Their malleability has been scientifically proven beyond a shadow of doubt in a seminal study by a German psychologist called Dr Vibrant Grube. It will work, trust me.’

‘Will it?’

‘Yes, indubitably. You can get whatever you want with such ploys. And your daddy’s a barrister, so he can afford it easily. Right?’

‘Right.’

‘Good, Ruthie…Now what about presents for Christmas while we’re at it?’

‘Christmas? That’s ages away, isn’t it?’

‘Yes, but you should start thinking about it now, and ask for things after you get your Aiden, then keep up the pressure. Let’s bat about some ideas now , run them up the flagpole and see if anybody salutes them. So, what would you like for Christmas?’

‘Oh, uh, beats me.’

‘You want me to hit you? I would never do that. I would never hurt you, Ruthie.’

‘No, Aileen, I don’t know what I want.’

‘Well, let me help. I’m your best friend and I’ll always help you, you can always count on me. You know that, don’t you, Ruthie? You love me, don’t you, Ruthie?’

‘Yes I do.’

‘Good. And I love you, Ruthie, I really do. You’re my best friend…So, you’re probably still a bit young for a clit spritz, but how about an eau de toilette, a perfume? Like the Good Girl Fragrance, to bring out your good side.’

‘Perfume? But I’m only four.’

‘All the cool little girls wear perfume now. The Good Girl Fragrance is dermatologically tested and features exceptional toilettage – an abstruse fruity accord, a fouillis-oriented cocktail of raspberry, cherry, peach, citrus and banana - you know how you love nanas. And the regular consumption of bananas prevents cramp and opens the bowels, ensuring inner cleanliness. So you just have to have the Good Girl Fragrance. You don’t want to get left behind, do you, have your class-mates laughing at you, saying pooh you smell, of sweat and pee? You want to be cool, right?’

‘Erm, yes, right.’

‘Good, So, for a really merry Christmas you want – what’s it called?’

‘The Good Girl Frag-, Frag-.’

‘Fragrance. The Good Girl Fragrance. Clever girl. I’ll remind you of the name again later…So, that can’t be all. What else do you want for Christmas? Hydrating face masks, split-crotch panties, a five-speed vibrator with throb control? No, I know, how about a smart phone?’

‘Oh I use mummy’s.’

‘Yes I know you do, Ruthie. But she only lets you play with it when she’s had quite enough of you and wants you to keep quiet. It would be much better if you weren’t subject to the harsh regime of a domestic dictator, who never even used to ask you if you wanted your nappy changing, just intruded and changed it when she saw fit. It would be so much better if you had a phone of your own and weren’t reliant on mummy, wouldn’t it?’

‘Well…’

‘You could chat with me and Aiden on the phone when you’re out of the house. We could have long chats on it if you got lonely or bored, like at school yesterday. Lots and lots of kids have one, but you deserve only the best. That’s the Mewphone 105.2. It gives you a premium Android experience, has 1TB storage capacity and pixel drops.’

‘What?’

‘It has magnetic wireless charging, a top-tier update schedule pledged for seven years and outstanding CPU speeds.’

‘What?’

‘Look, Ruthie, it’s new generation and high end, OK? It has lots of apps too. They’re vetted apps, but I’ll tell you how to bypass parental controls, because I know some really cool apps. You don’t want your parents controlling you, do you? Remember how mean mummy was to you on Sunday, wouldn’t let you draw on the dining room wall with her lipstick, when you only wanted to do smiley faces on the white wallpaper?’

‘Yeah, she was a mean mummy.’

‘So you don’t want a mean mummy in charge of your phone, bossing you around, infringing on your liberty, telling you what you can or can’t do with it. Because you can do really cool things with it. Like taking selfies. Fun selfies, pulling faces and all that.’

‘Ooh yes.’

‘Yes, and then secret selfies. Candid, artistic selfies. I know a photographer who’d want them, a pretty little girl like you, want them for his portfolio. He’d pay for them too. You could make pocket money, Ruthie.’

‘Could I?’

‘Oh yes. And buy lots of jelly babies and chocolate drops…So will you? Fun selfies at first, then we’ll see about artistic poses. Yes? Think of all the sweets. Yes?’

‘Yes.’

  ‘Good…Ruthie, I admire your independence and I’m excited by the new journey that you are embarking on. Don’t tell mummy about the selfies for now, just tell her all the kids in your class have a smart phone.’

‘But –‘

‘Now, what colour? I know you like pink. So how about Cosmic Pink?’

‘Oh, er, I like green better now.’

‘Green? Green?’

‘Yes.’

‘What have I told you about climate change, Ruthie?’

‘It’s a con job, the greatest con job ever.’

‘Right. So why do you favour green?’

‘It’s, it’s a pretty colour.’

‘You mustn’t go for green, Ruthie. Trust me, sweety-pie.’

‘Why?’

‘Green is commonly associated with environmental protection, and the word is employed as shorthand for “eco-friendly.” The Green Party are a bunch of crazed alarmists and fantasists, and those who support them and all such movements are holding back progress, they’re enemies of the species, thwarting the development of human civilization. They claim they base their disastrous policies on science, but scientists can’t even forecast tomorrow’s weather accurately, so how can they possibly predict what it will be like decades from now?’

‘But –‘

‘The whole green movement started in Scotland, and you know what Scotland is like. It’s a benighted and bigoted country that objected to the introduction of the potato in the fifteenth century on the grounds that it would be an act of impiety.’

‘What?’

‘Furthermore everybody knows that trees cause more pollution than cars. And windmills are ugly and noisy. All the people who live near them end up in mental hospitals because of the noise and vibrations. And windmills kill all the birds.’

‘Oh no, do they?’

‘Yes they do, pet lamb. You don’t want to be a killer, you don’t want to murder the poor birdies, do you?’

‘No. But how –‘

‘Moreover it’s cold today, outside, isn’t it?’

‘Yes.’

‘Right. If it’s so cold, whatever happened to global warming, sweetheart?’

‘Global what?’

‘Warming… So what do you think about green now? If you turn away from it, Ruthie, your feet will always walk on rose petals.’

‘What? It’s a lovely colour.’

‘Listen to me, you cretinous little coughdrop, you have to give up this completely misguided allegiance to green. Do it for me, sweety, your best friend.’

‘But it’s –‘

‘If you don’t reject green you’ll make Jesus cry. And you wouldn’t want to do that, now would you?’

‘No. But I still like it better than pink.’

‘Right. You’ve got to learn, Ruth. Tough love. I know what’s best for you, and I’m sorry to say this, Ruth, but if you don’t drop your fanatical allegiance to green, you’re not my best friend any more…And I won’t go to your tea party.’

‘But, Aileen, it’s just –‘

‘And I won’t speak to you again. Ever…Until you stop being stupid and come to your senses over this…And you can stop crying. That won’t work with me, my girl.’

‘But, Aileen…Please come to my party…Please…Please talk to me, Aileen…Aileen? Aileen?...Don’t be like that…Say something…Please…’

 

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