The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2261 by Angharad Copyright © 2013 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

Sammi came down as Stella brought back the mouseketeers which was moments before the walkers came back. The sun had shone today and began to think we might not all have to develop gills to survive.

Once the youngsters had changed out of their school uniforms, I gave them a drink and the last remaining hobnobs–they had one a piece. I told them dinner would be in about an hour, and I checked my creation in the range oven. It was looking okay, mind you, compared to David’s pastry, mine is like reinforced concrete.

Oh well, we can always use it as hardcore if we need another shed.

I got Trish to lay the table, a job of which she is fiercely protective. I reckoned we had about half an hour to wait before testing teeth against my culinary skills or lack of them. Apparently the best pastry cooks have cold hands–mine are usually warm, it’s my feet which get cold, especially on the bike.

At six o’ clock I served up some dinners–the knife didn’t break on my pie, so it might yet be edible. Using plate spacer things I stacked the three dinners for across the way and asked Sammi to take them over. She was about to dissent, probably playing the invalid card when my smile disarmed her and she picked up the tray and I let her out the back door.

As she came back in I was serving pie portions out on the warm plates. I let them help themselves to potatoes and other vegetables but I poured the gravy for the youngsters. Judging by the lack of conversation I assumed they were all busy testing their digestive systems against my cooking. The sounds emanating from the table were that of plates being scraped and other eating noises.

“That wis braw,” was Daddy’s assessment. He rose taking his coffee with him to test some of the malt miniatures I got him for Christmas. He also had someone’s degree dissertation to look over. I didn’t envy either him or the author.

Danni stayed seated while I poured teas and she accepted one of them. Sammi asked her how her ‘wound’ was. “Okay, fed up with shoving bits of placky up it.”

“Tell me about it.” Sammi replied before I closed the conversation. There were probably better topics for a dinner table, like vivisection or sewage disposal–joke.

They went off together to compare notes or something similar. Julie was dealing with a call on her mobile, “Hang on, I’ll ask her. Sam...” she called after her departing sister.

“What?” came back the reply.

“You fancy making up a foursome on Friday, boy’s name is George Curtis.”

“He’s not into computers, is he?”

“He could be, why?”

“I was at uni with a George Curtis–total shithead.”

“It’s only for a night out, you haven’t got to marry him...”

“What if he recognises me?”

“Oh come on, your own mother wouldn’t recognise you from the nerd who came to stay.”

“I would,” I said, just to annoy them.

“Very funny, I meant the other one.”

“The one with bells on?”I offered.

“Yeah–what?”

“The other one, it has bells on.”

“What has?”

“That’s what people say.”

“Mummy, I’m trying to have a sensible conversation here with my sister–so if you don’t mind...”

I could take a hint and started to set up the ironing board. I couldn’t help but overhear what was being said.

“But he could recognise me, couldn’t he?”

“I doubt it, your hair’s different to start with.”

“Duh--Her whole body’s different.”

“Mum–will you...”

“Will I let you do your own ironing?”

“Um–no, oh leave it there, I’ll do it afterwards.”

I smiled, she didn’t realise she’d been had yet.

“I’m sure he won’t recognise you, especially with your hair down.”

“I don’t know, Ju.”

“C’mon, the other guy is like, gorgeous, do it, please.”

“Well don’t blame me if it all goes belly up.”

“It won’t–I’ll bet he won’t recognise you.”

“Well if he does I’m not sticking around to be insulted by him, I’ll be off.”

“Well yeah, I mean, you’re my sister, so I’ll be right there with you.”

“It might help if you say your name is Cameron and you work for a bank, you don’t have to say in what capacity.” I offered advice as I finished one of Simon’s shirts.

“Yeah, Mummy’s right, I could do you a colour rinse too, how about a redhead.”

“Uh, no thanks.”

“But you will come, pretty please?”

“Jules, you’re a...”

“Desperate?” I ventured.

“No funny,” Julie shot back at me with a daggers glance.

“Okay, but if he twigs I’m off.”

“He won’t, he’ll love you.”

“Mummy, waddya think?”asked Sammi.

I finished pressing the collar of Trish’s blouse, “I doubt he’ll recognise you, you have changed quite a bit since you’ve been here.”

“Okay, I’ll do it.”

Finally Julie got what she wanted and Sammi went back upstairs to her computers. I finished Trish’s blouse and picked up one of Livvie’s. “You gonna be all night?”asked Julie.

“No, if you want to do your stuff, I can do my mending instead.”

“Mending, I thought we were a family of millionaires?”

“How d’ya think we got it?” I asked and picked up my sewing basket.

Julie went over to the washing pile, “Mummy, if I do some of yours, would you do my mending?”

“What needs mending?” I asked.

“Hem’s come down on my skirt.”

“I taught you how to do hems.”

“I know, but you’re so much quicker.”

Had I been had? Probably. “Let me see?”

She chucked it over to me. It had to be black, didn’t it? Sewing black in artificial light is a nightmare. “When d’you need it?”

“I’ll wear trousers or leggings tomorrow.”

“I’ll do it in daylight, assuming we have some tomorrow.”

“Thanks, ma.”

I glared back at her and she chuckled.

“I can’t do this,” stated a disgruntled Livvie.

“Do what, sweetheart?”

“This geography thing.”

“Let me see...” she handed me the book and I read the homework question. “What did Trish do?”

“She’s in a different group, ours has to do this one.”

One way to stop sisters collaborating I suppose. I re read the question. Then went down to the study and pulled out the requisite OS map. “Ah ha, here look. The reason they didn’t do a straight road were these hills, so the Romans went round them.” I dug out an OS map of Roman Britain and showed her the road as it appeared then.

“Cool,” she said, now I understand it–were Ordnance Survey around in Roman times, then?”

“Nah, the Romans used GPS.”

“Right,” she said walking out the door then a moment later reappeared, “Muuummmy.”

I booted up the computer and printed her off a series of maps and graphs showing the area concerned and it’s topography in linear form. I took them to her and she said, “Wow, how’d you do that?”

“I used to do it for my bike rides at one time, when I used to keep a log.”

“I can see where they get it from,” said Julie as we returned, Livvie now triumphant over her homework.

“Get what?”

“Their brains.”

“Not from me, anymore than you do.” I said reminding her I wasn’t anyone’s actual mother.

“No, I got your looks instead–I’m not complaining.”

Some days I’m sure I’ve stepped into a parallel universe.