The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike) Part 1325 by Angharad Copyright © 2011 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

I suddenly realised that it was a Saturday and that it was two weeks to Easter, which meant the children were now on holiday. That could be a help and a hindrance. Showering with Simon reminded me of how much time we seemed to have before we were knee deep in offspring–sadly none of it ours, except by dint of legal process. However we loved them and I hoped that they loved us.

Jenny was due the day off, because from Monday she was with us full time the whole holiday. I was going to Bristol and putting some flowers on my parent’s grave whatever happened. I also wanted to check out the house. Although I paid someone for keeping it tidy and mowing the lawns, it wasn’t like seeing it myself.

Danny was playing football, and Simon agreed to go and watch him and take Meems with him, she wanted Puddin’ to go so he agreed to have her too. Julie was working but would help Si when she got home should I be delayed. I took Billie, Livvie and Trish with me and of course Catherine, who got to sit in the front seat as navigator.

By the time we’d had breakfast, and sorted the car seats, packed everything we’d need–like push chair and change of nappies–that sort of stuff, it was nine o’clock.

I kissed Si, Danny and Puddin’ goodbye and off we went. It’s a boring ride but fairly straightforward, and about an hour and a half later we were outside my parent’s house and unloading our stuff, including the large bouquet of flowers I’d purchased on the way up.

I had no choice, they’d all have to come with me to the cemetery as they were too young to leave on their own. However, I decided we’d have lunch first and Trish carried the food for making the sandwiches into the kitchen. I emptied the kettle and refilled it for making my tea–the girls would drink fruit squash.

Trish went to use the cloakroom and moments later, Billie, who’d been watching Catherine, went to do the same–Trish told her to go away. I heard the ruckus and told her to use the upstairs bathroom. She went up and I continued buttering the bread for our sandwiches.

I was just about to start the second round of bread when Billie called me from upstairs. Her tone was urgent, and while I had no idea what could be alarming her, I dropped everything and rushed up the stairs.

She was staring into what had been my parent’s bedroom. “What’s the matter, darling?”

She pointed and my eyes followed the line of her fingers and into the bedroom. In my parent’s bed were a young couple–very young, like fifteenish, the duvet pulled up to their necks–presumably for the same reason any of us do that–we have nothing on underneath. I stared at them for a moment and they blushed–so they were in the wrong and I wasn’t in the wrong house.

I sent Billie to the bathroom and walked into the bedroom, “Just who are you and what are you doing in my parent’s bed?”

“We didn’t know you were coming, we didn’t mean no ‘arm, ’onest.” The boy spoke with a broad Bristolian accent, which I’ve more or less translated for you.

“How often have you done this?” I demanded rather than asked.

He blushed and was about to say this was the first time, when his girlfriend nudged him and he confessed, “This is the second time.” His eyes only flittingly met mine and hers didn’t at all.

“I see. Is this true?” I directed at the girl.

“Yes,” she said almost in a whisper, tears beginning to trickle down her cheeks. “I told you we shouldn’ta dunnit,” she accused him.

“I take it one of you must be related to Mrs Hardy,” my caretaker cum cleaner.

“She’s my mum,” said the boy very sheepishly.

“So you must be Josh?”

“Yeah,” he said and nodded.

“And you?” I asked the teen girl.

“Abbie.”

“And how old are you–and the truth, please?”

“Fifteen,” she said the tears flowing down her red face.

“And Josh, how old are you?”

“Fifteen,” he replied in a tone which if it had got any more sheepish would have been bleated to me.

“I believe that means in English law, you are both under the age of consent. That means I have to insist you stop your amorous activities and get yourselves dressed.”

“Are you going to tell my mother?” asked the boy.

“Do you think I should?”

“I dunno.”

“If you came into your parent’s house and found two underage kids bonking like bunnies in your parent’s bed, what would you do?”

He blushed so red I was worried he might spontaneously combust, “I dunno, tell ‘em to clear off, I s’pose.”

“I’m within my rights to call the police.”

“Oh please don’t do that, lady,” implored the girl.

Billie reappeared at this point and I sent her down and told the others to stay downstairs.

“You’re acquainted with the police are you?” I asked her.

“Yeah,” she looked down at the bed.

“What for?”

“We done some shopliftin’ a couple a months ago.”

“I see. So should I call your parents?”

“They’re not in,” she said quickly.

Josh shrugged, “I cain’t stop ya.”

“True.” I pretended to muse for a few moments although I knew what I was going to say from the beginning. “Perhaps we can come to some sort of deal.” They both looked anxious but in favour of anything that kept their parents and the police out of things.

I looked at them. “We’ll discuss this downstairs, I’d be grateful if you got yourselves dressed and stripped the bed.” With that I shut the door and left them to it.

I was making sandwiches still, when they came down carrying the bedding. “Washing machine is through there,” I pointed to the utility room, “detergent and conditioner are on the top.” They both went through and I heard the washing machine door closed and the water run a few seconds later. They came back out looking very embarrassed in front of my giggling girls, even Catherine was giggling though possibly because the others were.

I marched them into the lounge, shutting out my gaggle of giggling girls, and told them to sit down. “How did you get in?”

Joshed showed me his mother’s key. “I came to mow the lawns.”

“And have you?”

“Not yet.”

“Okay, I think you’d better go and do it now.”

“Are you gonna tell my mum?” he asked.

“I might not if you do a good job in the garden. Have you had lunch?”

“I’m not very ’ungry.”

“That wasn’t what I asked?”

“No, miss.”

“Right, you go and mow the lawns,” I pointed at him. “Abbie, you come and help me do the lunch. Well come on, I’m sure you have other things to do afterwards.” They jumped up when my tone became more imperative.

I sent her to wash her hands, and introduced her to the rest of the squad. She was embarrassed and they were excited. I got Trish to lay the dining table and Abbie I left to wash the salad stuff. I finished the ham sandwiches and made the tea.

We called Josh in after he’d finished the front lawn and I asked him to put his shirt back on and to wash his hands then come to the table. It was excruciating for them to sit there and politely eat and drink while I breast fed Catherine and then had Trish feed her some babyfood.

When the machine finished, I made Abbie hang out the washing on the line while Josh finished the grass. When they were both finished, I pretended to inspect the grass.

“Okay, you can both go. If you give me your solemn word that you won’t do anything like this again, I won’t say anything to your parents. If I catch you at it again, I’ll call the police–not because I’m that upset by what you were doing but because you’re both too young to get saddled with a baby.

“I presume your mother gives you something for cutting the grass?”

“Yes, miss.”

“Okay, here’s another tenner, off you go–oh and Josh–I expect my lawns to be well looked after from now on.”

“Yes, miss.”

Abbie came up to me, “Thanks for not callin’ the police.”

“Go on–get lost, both of you before I change my mind.” They left arm in arm smirking like guilty teenagers always do.

“What were they doin’ upstairs, Mummy?” asked Trish smiling like a demon.

“You know jolly well what they were doing, which is why you asked me–go and put the dishes away and take that smile off your face you little squirt.” She pouted and went back into the kitchen, and I turned away so she couldn’t see me snigger.

I looked at the grass–he’d done a better job than I did when I had to do it. Oh well, a bit of a surprise but it wasn’t as bad as it could have been.