The Superintendent's new car pulled up outside his new house. His new car was much larger, and his new house was much larger. It was dark but not too late in the evening.

The driver stepped out of the driver's side door and walked around to the rear and opened the door for the Superintendent.

The Superintendent stepped out of the limousine as the driver stood smartly to attention.

‘Thank you Constable’ - the Superintendent said.

‘Normal time in the morning, Superintendent?’ - Asked the Constable.

‘Yes, thank you comrade’ - said the Superintendent.

‘Have a good night Superintendent’ - said the Constable.

‘Thank you comrade’ - said the Superintendent, opening the front gate to his much larger house.

The driver closed the rear door, and walked back to the driver's door and climbed in. The car pulled away.

The Superintendent was wearing his smart black uniform, with polished silver buttons. On his shoulders were epaulets with a silver star of the People’s Republic on each shoulder. He wore a black Sam Browne belt, and on his right hip was a revolver contained in a polished covered black leather holster. The Superintendent was wearing a black police cap with a silver star of the People’s Republic on the front, and he was carrying a black leather attache case.

The Superintendent walked up the long footpath to his large house, and as he approached the door it was opened by a woman in her early forties.

‘Papa’ - the woman said.

‘Hello Ceilia’ - the Superintendent said, and he kissed the woman on the cheek.

‘How was your day papa?’ - Ceila asked as she held the door open to the brightly lit hallway.

‘My day was just fine, Ceila - and how was your day my love?’ - The Superintendent stepped into the brightly lit hallway and took off his police cap.

‘It was lovely papa, I have nearly finished the oil of the old cathedral - it looks quite good if I do say so myself.’

‘That is wonderful Ceila - you will have to show me after dinner.’

‘Yes papa.’

‘Do you know what the cook has planned for dinner?’ - Asked the Superintendent, unclipping the Sam Browne belt and removing the revolver.

‘Roast lamb, I think. And a red berry pudding for dessert.’

‘Lovely’ - said the Superintendent.

The Superintendent had been moved into his new much larger house with his promotion from Chief Inspector. The front garden was a large space with manicured lawns and cherry trees that had pink and white blossoms for a few weeks a year. In the spring tulips and daffodils bloomed, and there were large, neatly trimmed lavender bushes. The rear garden was large and walled - and had an ornamental fish pond with large, colorful koi carp and water lilies that bloomed all throughout the summer months. There was a gazebo with seating, and the garden was filled with Japanese maple trees that turned a fiery red in the autumn.

The inside of the house was neat, with sparse decorations. In the hallway there was a grandfather clock, paintings hanging on the walls, and a few photos arranged on a hall table.

One of the photos was of the Superintendent - much younger - in his Naval uniform, smiling. He was in the photo with a woman. The woman was smiling too. They looked happy and in love.

‘I will tell cook that you are home - and then we can eat papa’ - said Ceila.

‘Very good my love’ - said the Superintendent.

Ceila walked away down the hallway, and the Superintendent walked into the drawing room. He went to the drinks cabinet and poured himself some whiskey.

‘Dinner is ready papa’ - Ceila had stepped into the dining room.

‘Thank you my love’ - said the Superintendent, and he walked from the drawing room - following Celia to the dining room.

The dining room had a large polished oak table in the middle of it, with seating for 12 people. The table was set for two. One setting at the head of the table, and the other to the left. Celia sat at the seat to the left, and the Superintendent sat at the head. There was a decanter with red wine on the table, silver salt and pepper shakers, and each place setting had a wine glass. A white plate was set between silver knives and forks, and a white napkin was folded on top of each plate.

Once the Superintendent and Celia were seated, the dining room door opened and a short, dumpy woman entered carrying a large tray with white covered dishes.

‘Good evening cook’ - said the Superintendent.

‘Good evening sir’ - said the cook warmly.

‘I understand we are having your lovely roast lamb tonight’ - said the Superintendent, placing a crisp white napkin on his lap.

‘Yes sir, just the way you like it sir’ - said the cook.

The cook placed the large tray on the table and then moved several covered dishes from the tray to the table. There was a large covered platter, a gravy boat, and a pot of fresh mint sauce.

The cook removed the lids from the dishes; there was a bowl of steamed baton carrots, a bowl of boiled broccoli, some boiled minted new potatoes, a platter with slices of roast lamb, and the gravy and mint sauce.

‘Thank you cook - we can take it from here’ - said the Superintendent, smiling at the cook.

‘Very good sir - if you need anything else let me know’ - the cook bowed her head and then left the dining room with the large tray.

‘You serve the vegetables, and I will serve the lamb’ - said the Superintendent.

Celia picked up her plate and served herself some carrots, broccoli, and some potatoes - ‘Just two slices for me papa.’

The Superintendent put two slices of lamb on Celia’s plate. Celia then served the Superintendent some vegetables, and he placed three slices of lamb on his own plate.

‘Gravy my love’ - the Superintendent said, offering the gravy boat to Celia.

‘Just on the lamb please, papa.’

The Superintendent poured some gravy on Celia’s plate, and then poured some on his own plate.

The Superintendent picked up the small bowl containing the mint sauce - ‘Mint sauce?’

‘No thank you papa’ - said Celia.

The Superintendent spooned a little mint sauce on top of his lamb, and then placed the small bowl back on the table. He picked up the wine decanter and poured Celia and himself a glass of red wine each.

‘Cheers’ - said the Superintendent, raising his glass.

‘Cheers papa’ - said Celia, doing the same.

They clinked their glasses together, and each took a sip of the wine.

The Superintendent put his wine glass down, and picked up his knife and fork.

‘This looks lovely’ - said the Superintendent.

‘Yes papa.’

They ate in silence for a short while.

‘It would have been mama’s birthday today’ - Celia said, breaking the silence.

The Superintendent stopped chewing, and froze for a moment. He continued chewing and then swallowed.

‘By gosh you are right Celia’ - said the Superintendent.

The Superintendent picked up his wine glass again - ‘To your mother and my wife - the love of our lives.’

Celia picked up her glass again and clinked the Superintendent’s glass.

‘Do you miss her much, papa?’ - Celia asked, sipping her wine.

The Superintendent was eating again - ‘Yes my love, I miss your mother very much indeed.’

The Superintendent continued eating.

‘Can you tell me what it was like - before the war?’ - Celia asked.

The Superintendent chewed his food, and looked at her.

‘You know Celia, we cannot talk about the past. Talking about those things could get us in a great deal of trouble.’

‘I know papa, but please tell me something about how things were. Something about when mother was alive, before the war. When you were with her and happy.’

The Superintendent chewed his food. He put down his knife and fork, and took a sip of wine.

‘Your mother - like you - was an artist, Celia. And she loved to visit art exhibitions. Before the war, there were these large buildings full of paintings by artists from all over the world. They were called art galleries - and they were free to visit. They would have special exhibitions by certain painters with a collection of the artist’s paintings. Your mother was very fond of a certain type of painter - French painters. They were called Impressionists. The Impressionists were a group of painters who were reviled by the traditional French painters at the time’ - the Superintendent paused to take a sip of wine - ‘ The Impressionists were considered radicals, as their work was considered to be in violation of the academic rules of traditional painting. Anyways, the artist who can be considered the father of the Impressionist movement was a French painter named Claude Monet. Monet was your mother’s favorite artist. Impressionism, as an art movement, was all about putting your perceptions of nature before nature itself. Whereas traditional painters strived to produce works of near photographic quality - replications of the observed. The Impressionists, and especially Claude Monet, injected feeling and subjectivity into their paintings.’

Celia refilled the Superintendent's glass.

‘Thank you my love’ - the Superintendent took a sip of wine - Where was I?’

‘They injected feeling and subjectivity into their paintings’ - said Ceila.

‘Ah yes, feeling and subjectivity. So, I was on leave from the Navy - and this was before you were born - and your mother and I traveled into the city to see an Impressionist exhibition at the national gallery. We caught the train into the city; on the ride in we had half a bottle of sparkling wine and drank it out of paper cups. We walked to the gallery and spent the afternoon walking through the exhibition looking at the collection of paintings. Towards the end of the exhibition, was a large space with about a dozen paintings by Claude Monet. The centerpiece was one of Monet’s paintings of waterlilies. You see, Celia, of all the paintings Claude Monet painted, he was most famous for his paintings of waterlilies. These delicate paintings of waterlilies made people flock from all over to just stare at their beauty. Claude Monet transformed something as ordinary as water lilies floating on a murky French pond, to this enchanted and exquisite scene that captured the hearts and minds of everyone who saw it. Your mother Celia, stood for over an hour just staring at this simple yet beautiful painting of lilies floating on a dirty French pond. We left the museum and your mother was so full of life - she said that she could feel the energy and beauty in that painting of waterlilies flowing through her. The only time I have seen here happier, Celia, was the day you were born.’

The Superintendent took another sip of wine, and then picked up his knife and fork and continued to eat.

‘What happened to the painting papa - the painting of the water lilies?’

‘Oh, I don’t know. Probably locked away or destroyed during the war.’

A single tear rolled down Celia’s face.

‘Do you think, papa - that there is a photo of the painting - the water lilies - in a book that I could see?’

The Superintendent chewed his food - ‘A book?’

‘Yes papa, a book. I would very much like to see the painting of the water lilies that moved mother so much.’

‘Hmmmm - let me think about that Celia. Some books are no longer permitted, my love.’

‘I cannot see what would be so bad about a book with a painting of water lilies papa.’

The Superintendent ate more food, and then took another sip of wine.

‘I will see what I can do, my love - the issue is not the water lilies. The problem is the feelings that some books provoke.’

‘What happens when you look at water lilies papa?’

‘It is not the water lilies my love - but certain things are not allowed now. Things like impressionism are considered...how should I put this... “dangerous”.’

‘Dangerous, papa? How can beautiful paintings be dangerous papa?’

‘In the People’s Republic Celia, things and thoughts about the perception of reality are - shall we say - discouraged.’

‘Discouraged?’

‘Yes my love. People in the People’s Republic are encouraged to accept reality - to accept this reality, our reality, and to not imagine something different from our reality.’

‘But papa, what if what we imagine is more beautiful than reality, like Claude Monet’s beautiful water lilies? You said that they were just flowers floating on a dirty pond, but Claude Monet transformed them into something beautiful!’

‘In the People’s Republic, Ceila. There are just flowers floating on dirty ponds - and nothing else’ - said the Superintendent.

Another solitary tear rolled down Ceilia’s cheek.

‘Celia, my love. We have spoken about this enough.’

Celia sipped her wine.

The Superintendent placed his knife and fork on his plate, and wiped his mouth with his napkin.

‘I have to do some work in the study Celia - please thank the cook for a lovely dinner.’

‘Yes papa.’

The Superintendent stood, and walked to the dining room door. He paused, and thought for a moment. He was going to say something, but he didn’t know what to say.

He opened the dining room door and collected his attache case from the hall, and then walked to the study.