The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike) Part 1269 by Angharad Copyright © 2011 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

I had to go and collect the girls from school and when I arrived back home there were a series of envelopes addressed to each of us on the kitchen table. The girls tore into theirs in a moment, “Auntie Stella’s havin’ a party,” they were dancing round the kitchen squealing. If you can imagine a bottle of well known cola being shaken violently for ten minutes, then released–you’ll get the impression of my kitchen, awash with skirts flapping as they bounced up and down and round and round.

I let them continue for a few moments before calling a halt. “Right, girls, before you all get too excited and wet yourselves, just remember I’m the one who says if you can go or not. So any grief and I might just say no on your behalf.”

“You wouldn’t, like do that, would you, Mummy?” asked an incredulous Livvie.

“If you misbehave, yes.”

“It’s at the hotel, Mummy, we can take swimming stuff,” declared Trish.

I looked at Mima who’d nearly drowned there once before. “It’th awwight, Mummy, I can thwim better now.”

“We’ll see about swimming. Now after you’ve had a drink and a biscuit you can go and change into your playing clothes and you can each write a letter to Auntie Stella telling her how pleased you are for her engagement, and that you’d like to come to her party.”

“What does RSVP mean, Mummy?” asked Trish.

“It means please reply.”

“Yeah, um–rite soon very please,” quipped Livvie.

“Not bad, it’s French, ‘Répondez s’il vous plaît’. It means, reply if you please.”

“What if you don’t please?” asked Trish.

“Then it means you’re not going and also that you’re rather rude, because polite people would respond and say if they couldn’t make it as well as if they could. One of the reasons for doing so is to make it easier to estimate how much food and drink you’ll need.”

“Oh that’s a good idea,” said Billie, “Can I say, I’m starvin’?”

“I always thought you were Billie,” said Trish, who pushed her sister and ran off, with Billie in hot pursuit. I cogitated on the advantages of boarding school or even a zoo–not much difference really–well, there’s probably less sex in the zoo, but that’s about it.

Eventually, they settled down and wrote their notes, which I made them draft and show me before they wrote to Stella.

“Does this mean a new party frock, Mummy?” asked Livvie.

“We’ll have to see what you already have, but it could do, or something similar.”

“Oh goody,” she almost sang and went back to tell the others.

While I was organising dinner–a fisherman’s pie–well, they got fed up eating dead shepherds–the phone rang. “Can somebody get that please?” I shouted, being up to my armpits in creamed potatoes.

“Yo, got it,” called Danny, who’d not long emerged from the shower after a football practice. “Mu-u-um, it’s some solicitor on the phone.”

Bugger–I glanced at the clock, it was nearly six, he was working late. “Lady Cameron, the funeral will be next Monday at midday at the crematorium. I trust this is convenient?”

I glanced at the calendar next to the phone and I had nothing down against it, “Yes, that’s fine with me.”

“The wake, if that’s the correct term for it, I somehow think it isn’t but then English is so abused these days; is in the pub down the road, I’ve told them to do tea and sandwiches for up to fifty, is that okay.”

“I have no idea how many would come but I suspect there’ll be a good turnout from the school. Have you spoken to the headmaster?”

“Yes, he’s doing a short eulogy, is there anything you’d like to add?”

“I could say a few words if you wish me to?”

“You are his next of kin, officially, so I think it would it tie things in, the service is going to be a non-religious one as per his instructions.”

“Fine, that makes me feel happier with it.”

“Right then, I hope to see you at the funeral, oh and please, no black.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Please don’t wear black, he’s asked for it to be an uplifting experience, so for everyone to wear bright colours.”

“It’s a funeral, people will be sad.”

“I don’t write these things, I just observe client’s requests.”

“Okay, Mr Sangster, I shall see you on Monday.” I put the phone down. Oh great, start of half term and Stella’s party is on the Sunday. Just wunnerful. I asked Danny if he’d like to go to Mr Whitehead’s funeral and he said he thought he ought to. I agreed.

The rest of the week flew by. The girls and I went through their wardrobes and they each needed some new clothes, so did Danny and alas, so did Julie–her dresses aren’t cheap these days. Leon had been invited to the party, so at least she had someone to dance with later.

I gave her fifty pounds to get a new outfit, any more than that came out of her pocket. She already had more shoes than Imelda Marcos, so she wouldn’t need any of them, and she wore heels which towered above mine. What it is to be a teenager?

On the Saturday, Simon went off with Danny to get some new togs for the party and a new shirt and pants for the funeral. He was beaming as they drove off in the Jaguar, and we all waved them off before climbing into my Cayenne for the girly shopping.

I don’t know about the girls, but Trish and Livvie practically dragged me into the changing room with a red sequined dress. I hummed and hawed about it, having the wrong bra on and I had a nice dress already and so forth, but they insisted. So I stripped off my jeans and top and pulled it on. Trish zipped me up–well, why struggle when you have a willing helper.

“Wow, Mummy, that is awesome,” she said and Livvie and Billie nodded.

“It’th vewwy thparkwee,” Mima agreed.

I already had some suitable black sparkly shoes and a bag, and I did have a plunge bra to make the most of my not inconsiderable assets. The nice thing was it made my waist look thinner and my hips contrastingly bigger.

“If I buy this, it’s for the evening party and no one says anything about it beforehand–okay?” If I was going to look like the singer for a big band, I wasn’t going to give Simon warning, and besides, I’d have some competition for most outrageous dress from Julie.

We finally got something for the girls at the ninth shop we tried, it meant new shoes and bags too–boy, why didn’t I adopt more boys, they’ve got to be cheaper to run than these little monsters?

The last act was to get a nice little dress for Baby C, which we did in a children’s boutique, so she’d look almost like a blue candyfloss. Jenny was coming, and we’d agreed we take turns watching the kids, especially the baby.

The party was to start at three, with access to the hotel’s facilities, the evening would start at seven thirty, with a buffet and dance floor with disco from eight. Henry was standing the bar tab, which I thought was brave of him, although in my case would be very little and as we’d have to take two cars, either Simon or Tom would need to stay sober to get the second car home.

I took some sports clothes, to do an hour’s spinning in the gym on the stationary bikes, have a quick swim and then after getting the kids ready, I’d change myself. We were using the family suite, so had a set of rooms at our disposal, and we could stay overnight if it finished that late. That seemed a better idea, the kids could sleep at the hotel and we could party until we got fed up or until two AM if we didn’t.

I packed up the cases and loaded the car. Simon took the Mondeo and loaded that up as well, Tom was going independently because he wanted to come back, ‘tae see tae the dug.’ Then we set off in convoy towards Southsea and Stella’s engagement party.