Free House Rules by G.C. Scott Page B

coffee table.
    Ingrid looked with surprised pleasure at the room and the food, ‘I think I will have to keep you permanently. Thank you for tidying up.’
    Richard motioned for her to sit down and eat. She kicked her shoes off and curled her legs – quite nice legs, he saw again – under herself on the sofa. Women seemed to feel comfortable in that position. He knew of no men who could even get their legs into it.
    They ate in companionable silence. Richard judged the time was not right to ask Ingrid about Helena – not least because it would reveal he had been snooping.
    At last Ingrid set down her cup and said, ‘Another sandwich and I’ll begin to get middle-aged spread. They were very good. But now, if you are finished, it’s time to begin on you.’ She stood and led the way into the bathroom. There she ran water into the tub, added bubble-bath salts and filled it about halfway. ‘Take your clothes off and see if the water temperature is comfortable,’ she directed.
    Richard got undressed and stepped into the tub. The water came up over his ankles and was pleasantly warm. He smelt the faint perfume from the bubble bath.
    Ingrid motioned for him to sit down, and he did so. His legs were just that little bit too long to allow him to lie down fully with the water up to his neck. Ingrid began to wash him. He had never been washed by a woman since he was a little boy. It was soothing, and brought back pleasant memories of Saturday-evening baths in his parents’ home.
    All that changed abruptly when Ingrid said, ‘Now let me soap your legs well so I can shave them. Watch closely so you will be able to do it next time without cutting yourself. Razor cuts on a woman’s legs look so unsightly.’ Expertly, she soaped first one leg and then the other. She used a disposable plastic razor and gently shaved the hair from his legs, moving from bottom to top. ‘Go against the grain,’ she advised Richard. When his legs were bare, she pulled the plug and let the water drain away. There was a tidemark around the tub, and a clump of hair in the drain hole.
    ‘Always clean the hair away,’ Ingrid said. ‘Next time there will not be nearly so much, but it builds up. Try to be neat.’
    The air was cold on his newly bared legs as he stood in the empty tub. ‘I thought for a minute you were going to shave my pubic hair too,’ Richard said.
    ‘No need for that,’ Ingrid replied. ‘If anyone gets that far up your skirt, it will not be the hair that gives the game away. Besides, it itches terribly when it starts to grow back. Once I shaved mine for a date with the boy of my dreams. He was surprised to feel me bare down there when he got his hand in my pants. And it was a wonderful weekend we had in an Alpine chalet. But by the next Wednesday I could not bear to wear pants. I was prickly and sore all over. After it grew back, I vowed never again. But now stand still while I shampoo your hair.’
    Ingrid turned on the shower and washed Richard’s hair thoroughly. ‘You will need to shampoo regularly. Hair gets awfully dirty under a wig, especially when it is worn for long periods, as you will be doing.’
    ‘Anything else, Mother?’ Richard joked.
    ‘Yes. A thousand things you will have to learn – and unlearn. This is not something you can run through just once. Pay attention to everything I do. Now shave your face very closely, and be careful not to cut that either.’ She handed him the razor and watched while he shaved. ‘Do all men pull such faces in the mirror?’ she asked.
    Ingrid led Richard into the front room again. Outside in the streets, evening was falling. The first streetlights were appearing, with that garish yellow sodium glow characteristic of European cities. She drew the curtains. ‘It would not do to have the world and his brother peering in at us,’ she observed. ‘Now pick up all those things –’ indicating the dresses and other clothing they had chosen for him ‘– and bring it all