The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike) Part 1207 by Angharad Copyright © 2010 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

I finished feeding the baby and gave her to Jenny to change whilst I went and showered and changed myself. The snow was still about so I dressed for the elements with a polo neck in red and a black jacket and trousers with relatively flat black boots.

“Have a lovely evening, Mummy,” called Julie as we left, while the others were sulking because we were leaving them behind. I pleaded with them to behave for Jenny and Stella because Tom wasn’t very well–he had a lousy cold if not flu, and he’d gone to bed early. I was a little concerned for him when we left, but this was what I’d asked for as my birthday present, so I had to go. I’d be driving so Si could have a glass of wine or beer, and besides, it was my car.

The drive through the ice and snow–it was freezing–was a fiddle but I took it easy and the large tyres plus four wheel drive kept us safe. Simon directed me to the restaurant and the car park was half full. I supposed some people had cancelled because of the weather–I couldn’t blame them.

On alighting from the car, he offered me his arm and I held it as we walked into the restaurant. “Lord and Lady Cameron,” he said and the waiter bowed obsequiously and led us to a table in the centre of the room. After sitting us at our table, he returned with menus and wine lists plus a single, red rose bud for me. I thanked him and Simon smiled. “Perhaps he fancies you?” said Si smirking.

“Can’t think why?” I replied not really wanting this sort of conversation.

“He can see you as a sexy woman.”

“Simon, I’m twenty seven, not seventeen.”

“And probably more beautiful now than ever.”

“Cobblers, I’m wearing so much moisturiser against the cold, that I’m surprised you can see my face.”

“Ah, that explains it.”

“Explains what?”

“It.”

“It?”

“Yes.”

“What is it?”

“The fact that your complexion looks rather pallid tonight.”

“Does it?”

“Yes, but then if you’ve rubbed in two kilos of elephant seal blubber, it would.”

Before I could react and attempt to wring his neck, in a very genteel manner as befits an expensive and exclusive restaurant, the waiter returned with the Pinot noir which Simon had ordered. I did think about ordering the most expensive starter I could find but I don’t like caviar of any description–it looks like tiny dirty ball bearings and tastes about as good–don’t ask me how I know, I’m still not sure if I ever did pass all of the ones I swallowed.

I went with the soup–broccoli and Stilton, he had quail’s eggs, they were only fractionally bigger than the lumpfish roe–okay, they were bigger but you get my drift. I mean you could hardly stick a toast soldier in one, could you?

I drank mineral water while he quaffed his wine.

For main course, I ordered swordfish with pesto alla siciliana tomato, almonds and basil with olive oil sauce, a green salad and garlic bread. Simon went for a steak tartare–though why anyone would want to eat raw meat and egg baffles me. However, he ate it with gusto and I ate mine with pesto, mine was delish, his looked like cat sick with an egg on top.

Dessert for me was an apple and mint sorbet, Simon ordered baked Alaska–if it was half baked would they call it Sarah Palin? He also put away cheese and biccies, coffee and a cognac. I pushed the boat out and had a latte coffee.

It was a very nice meal but the place was only half full, the waiter said the place had been fully booked but people cancelled because of the weather. As we sat drinking our coffees, some bloke behind began to cough, then wheeze. I heard someone thumping him on his back and Simon looked concerned, “Poor bugger is choking.”

I turned round and the man was going from red in his face to blue round the lips. I jumped up and turning him to face the wall, did a reverse abdominal thrust, locking my hands in a fist and yanking them up under his diaphragm. A second go achieved the objective and he shot a piece of veal into the fish tank about ten feet away. I think everyone gasped. He certainly did and sat down heavily on the embroidered chair. His partner, presumably his wife thanked me and I nodded going back to finish my coffee.

“These things follow you about, don’t they?”

“Don’t be absurd, Simon, you could have done that just as easily as I did, and I’m sure there were several others present who could have done it.”

“So why didn’t they?”

“I have no idea, would you like me to stand up and ask them?”

“No, sit quietly and behave yourself.”

“Would you like me to fold my arms and sit up straight like a big girl–we used to do that in school, did you?”

“No,” he gave me a look of disbelief and I knew I’d got my own back for his earlier irritation.

“Any news from Henry about what happened to the bank building?”

“They think a gas explosion.”

“What about the bomb thing?”

“That might have been a hoax.”

“Come off it, what really happened?”

“If I told you, I’d have to kill you.”

“Very funny as well as unlikely.”

“Why d’you say that?”

“Can’t see you coping with all the kids–can you?”

“It’s okay, 005, I’ve changed my mind, you won’t need to do it tonight,” he pretended to talk into his wrist watch, much to the amusement of the woman on the table to the side of us.

“If you drink much more, you won’t be able to do it tonight either.”

“What kill you?”

“No, what’s the expression, oh yes–give me a good seeing to.”

“Of coursh I will, both of you,” he pretended to slur.

“Very funny.”

“Excuse me your lordship, the gentleman on the table behind would like to buy you both a drink for saving his life,” interrupted the waiter.

“Oh okay–another cognac for me, Cathy?”

“I’m fine thanks.”

“Go on the chap’ll feel guilty all night otherwise.”

“I don’t want anything.”

“Suit yourself,” Simon acknowledged him with a wave and I rose and went to the ladies. Unfortunately, as I came out of the cubicle his wife cornered me.

“Thanks for what you did earlier. I’d often thought I’d like to poison the old bugger, but when I thought he looked like a goner, I felt really awful.”

“That’s okay, it’s something I picked up during a first aid course years ago.”

“Well, we’re both really glad you did. Did the waiter say you’re Lady Cameron?”

“Yes, that’s me.”

“Glad to meet you, I’ve followed your adventures with great interest.”

“Oh?” What I thought was, ‘oh-oh.’

“Yes, we must have lunch together some time.”

“I tend to be very busy most days–big family and three full time jobs, not including the stunt woman at Ellstree.”

“Very funny, I insist.” She shoved a card in my hand and as I walked back to my table I glanced at it, Delia Duttine — London features correspondent, New York Times.

Just what I need.