The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike) Part 1626 by Angharad Copyright © 2012 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

“Did you send that letter to Jenny?” asked Simon the next day.

“Yeah, by recorded delivery.”

“So very official then?”

“Absolutely.”

“You didn’t think to take it yourself?”

“Why should I? She let me down more than once and was planning to do so again. I don’t think I want to see her again, period.”

“What about the advert for her successor?”

“We have three possible.”

“Is that all?”

“No there were dozens but three seemed to be most likely to fit the bill.”

“What are you going to do about the transgender business?”

“Nothing. We have no one here who is transgendered now. I’ll make sure each has a thing about diversity and how we don’t tolerate discrimination on whatever grounds.”

“So if you get some sort of mad Muslim turn up, you have to employ them?”

“No, I’ll ask how they’d feel about being employed by an agnostic, transsexual scientist.”

“And if they say they don’t have a problem?”

“I might employ them–but they’d have to be the best candidate.”

“Oh okay, when are you interviewing?”

“Tomorrow, why?”

“Who’s interviewing?”

“Stella and I are why?”

“Who’s looking after the kids?”

“They’ll all be in school, and Julie’s looking after the babies.”

“Okay, what’s for dinner?”

“Canard á¡ l’orange.”

“What?”

“Duck in orange sauce.”

“Oh, course–right, see you tonight.” He pecked me on the cheek and left for work. I roused and scrubbed three girls and one boy. He in turn woke his big sister who grumbled but came down to help. Since she’d recovered from this latest illness she seems to have matured a little. She certainly does more round the house than she used to.

The rest of the day was cleaning and cooking. We’d be showing the three candidates over the house so they saw what they were likely to encounter and then explain the job after which we’d interview them.

The duck was okay–though I prefer chicken. Daddy grumbled because it wasn’t in curry sauce, but I think he was teasing me. Anyhow, I didn’t blow a gasket so he just sniggered when Simon said how nice it was, we hadn’t had creamed quackers for ages. Simon’s humour never actually made it beyond junior school.

He then upset Trish by asking if when they went feeding the ducks stale bread, did it mean they didn’t need stuffing when he shot them. She snapped at him and stumped away from the table in high dudgeon.

At half past ten the next morning the first of the candidates arrived. They waited with a coffee until the other two appeared, one held up on the bus and the other got lost, sat-nav didn’t work properly.

They were all equally qualified, as Jenny had been. One was a black girl, Henrietta who had the most amazing huge white teeth. The other two, Jacquie and Anna were rather quiet by comparison possibly a little nervous–I know I was.

Henrietta, seemed the most interested in the history of the house–in fact she seemed to be the most interested in everything. However, she had one weak point, she wouldn’t be available on Sundays because she was very involved with her church. My tummy flipped over on that evidence.

“What if we needed you on a Sunday?”

“I’m sorry, ma’am, my church needs me and God needs me every Sunday.”

“Every Sunday?” I clarified.

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“Thank you for being so frank with us, we’ll be in touch in the next day or so if you’ve been successful.”

Off she went and in came Anna. She interviewed like a corpse. “Do you have any reason why you might not be available for work such as regular commitments, family, church what have you?” I asked.

“Um, my mother expects me home every night by seven o’clock–does that count?”

Doh.

Finally Jacquie. She stood about five feet six and was dark haired and dark eyed, a very dark blue, almost sapphire coloured. I hadn’t appreciated it before she sat opposite me. She was actually very pretty and at age twenty, could be company for Julie or a liability because of Julie.

“D’you drive?” she’d been the one who came late through the bus.

“Not yet, I’m learning, ma’am.” I nodded in response.

“Can you cook?” asked Stella, “We have quite a few bodies here, so it’s different to cooking for a small family.”

“I do plain cooking, ma’am–and I have some experience of cooking for numbers, worked for a catering firm when I was still in school.”

“Have you any regular commitments which might make you unavailable at times?”

“I don’t think so, ma’am.” She looked a bit bemused.

“The job is live in, which we explained earlier and is variable hours but with a basic of thirty eight per week. We do pay overtime at time and a quarter if you work beyond those hours. I should add that no one who has worked here complained about the pay and conditions but have finished with us for personal reasons.”

“That’s okay,” she said nodding to emphasise it was so.

“Any questions for us, which we’ll try to answer as honestly as we can?” I asked as we finishing up.

“Um–not sure how to put this, ma’am, but have I seen you on telly and in the paper?”

“Possibly, I made a film on dormice a while ago.”

“An’ you had a little girl die, last year, didn’t you?”

That surprised me. “Yes I did.”

“I’m sorry, ma’am.”

“Thank you.”

She left soon after, Julie taking her into the town centre to the bus station. She gave us her opinion when she got home and we revived ourselves with a cuppa.

“Waddya think?” I asked her.

“She’s okay, a bit young–but hey, nothing wrong with that.”

Stella roared at that, “She’s older than you, Julie.”

“Is she? Crikey, how come she can’t drive then?”

“Not everyone is in a position to learn, let alone afford a car,” I suggested tersely.

“What’s on your mind, Cathy?” asked Stella.

“She’s holding back on something, otherwise she’s probably the most suitable of the three.”

“She’s not you know–is she?” gasped my sister in law, muttering, ‘not again’ under her breath.

“No, she’s not transgendered, but there’s something.”

“So are we gonna risk it?”

“I did put a probationary clause in the conditions, plus of course references.” I picked up the phone and asked Jim to do a quick check for us, there was also the CRB check but Jim was quicker and better, if loads more expensive.

“Jacquie Morse–that was a tricky one, it’s not her original name.”

“How d’you mean?”

“Her original name is Joyce Watkins–ring any bells?”

“No, should it?”

“She murdered the little boy next door when she was five years old–went off to a children’s psyche unit. Released after ten years and given a new identity, why did you want to know?”

“I was about to offer her a job as my nanny/housekeeper.”

“Oh,” he went quiet then added, “Well on the positive side she hasn’t killed anyone since.”

“Can you email me any details of the case?”

“On its way.”

Oh bugger, why does something like this always happen?