The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike) Part 1194 by Angharad Copyright © 2010 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

When we got home, Stella and Jenny asked how it had gone at the school. Julie was effusive in her praise, especially of Trish’s vote of thanks. “Yeah, Mummy was pretty good, she made ‘em laugh alright, but Trish’s vote of thanks stopped ‘em dead. There wasn’t a dry eye in the house.”

“I gave Mummy da fwowes,” declared Meems muscling in on the act.

“Yes, and you presented them beautifully,” I said ruffling her hair. “So who dressed this lot?” I asked, indicating the three younger girls, who were smartly turned out including their hair.

“That was a joint effort, Julie and Jenny dressed them and I did their hair,” admitted Stella–“The problem was, we couldn’t start until you’d left. We were also so glad you took the Porsche. If you’d taken the Mondeo, they’d have had to take two cars to get them all there.”

“I told you I was going to impress–the irony is, I do a talk on ecology and turn up in a gas guzzler, with acceleration like a jet fighter.”

“Did anyone see you driving Jim’s car?”

“Only the headmistress. Mind you, I had a fight on my hands about who was going to ride home in it with me.”

“I see,” said Stella surveying my brood, “Who won?”

“Simon,” I said and Stella looked very strangely at me. “So who drove the Mondeo?”

“Trish,” I said–the look on her face was priceless.

“But she can’t---that’s illegal–you’re joking.” When we all burst out laughing she nearly hit me.

“I got to ride home in it, Auntie Stella,” beamed Danny.

“Yeah, ‘snot fair,” said Trish and the other girls nodded agreement.

“But you got to do the vote of thanks, and embarrass your mother in front of hundreds,” smiled Stella.

“I s’pose so,” said Trish, although I’m not sure at the tender age of six, she really appreciated the opportunity she’d been given. If she remembers it at sixteen, she’ll see what she had–a chance to steal my thunder completely, backed up by Meems.

I let them have some cereal and a drink, then sent them off to bed. I had a sandwich and a cuppa, which I hoped would stop the growling noises in my tummy. I went up and settled the children down, while Julie compared notes on my performance with Tom and Si. After settling Danny down, he was so pleased I’d let him drive with me, I announced to Simon that I fancied a glass of wine.

“Red or white?” he asked, heading for the wine store in the larder.

“If I have white, Julie can have a drop as well.”

“Oh wow, Mummy, you are on a high tonight.”

“Yeah, hence the wine–it might help to ground me.”

She came over and hugged me, “I love you, Mummy,” she said and rested her head on my shoulder.

“I love you too, sweetheart.” I gave her a squeeze and she sighed, then let go and went and sat down.

“What was all that about?” hissed Stella as she helped unload the dishwasher and put the dishes away.

“Sometimes things trigger actions or reactions. Tonight she became a big sister again, sharing her love with the other kids and receiving some back. I think it reminded her she’s part of a family–she was just checking.”

“Oh, okay–I just wondered, it seems odd seeing someone who’s about ten years your junior calling you mummy–doesn’t it feel odd?”

“It did at first, but you get used to things.”

“Yes I suppose you do, Puddin' is calling me Mamma, that makes me go all gooey.”

“I always thought they said dada first.”

“I wish Des had been here to see her.”

“Me too, I suspect it might have been the making of him.” She looked rather sad so we hugged just as Simon arrived with two bottles of wine. He gave us a funny look that usually would be accompanied by, ‘Women–huh.”

I left him to open the bottles which although not chilled, were pretty bloody cold–the larder is built onto an outside wall on two sides and stays cool even in summer, which is what it was designed for, keeping food cool in the days long before refrigerators had been invented. In country houses, the gentry often had an ice house to which lumps of ice would be taken to keep food cold in summer.

We drank the two bottles of wine between us–none of us were going anywhere the next morning, and all it meant was we each had two. Julie was glowing after the second one. So was I–my tolerance or lack of it, of alcohol is legend in the house. Simon reckons that Meems would stay sober longer.

It’s not my fault, I seem to absorb it very quickly and it goes straight to my head upon which I start being sick. Tonight that didn’t happen, my supper must have slowed it down just enough, mind you I zonked when I got to bed and slept right through until a hand was shaking my shoulder.

“Whaa–what is it–oh hello, sweety-pie.” I cracked open an eye.

“It’s snowed, Mummy, may we go and play in it?”

I heard Simon groan from behind me. “Hmm, I don’t know. It sounds as if there might be a yeti about.”

“Wossat, Mummy?” I was delighted to realise Trish didn’t know everything–yet.

“Go and look it up on the internet.”

“How d’you spell it?” she asked.

“Y-E-T-I.”

“May we go and play then?”

“Not until you’ve had a proper breakfast.”

“All right.” She skipped off and I got up, aware that the room had an unusually light feel about it. When I pulled back the curtains, it had snowed, though hardly enough to do much with.

I did get them to eat before they went out. When they did, they built a rather small snowman in the orchard.

I was watching them from the kitchen window. Simon put his arms about my waist and kissed the back of my neck. “What d’ya want for your birthday?” he asked quietly.

“A Porsche,” I said, and he laughed. I didn’t join him.

“You’re serious, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Yet you turned down the Audi.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“It’s a bit expensive–I hate to mention we are going through a rough time at the moment.”

“Yes I know–but you asked what I’d like–that’s what I’d like, but I’d settle for a nice dinner somewhere, just the two of us.”

“Okay, I’ll sort it.”

“Thank you.” Just then the baby woke up again and I had to go and feed her. I told her it was my birthday soon, but she wasn’t very impressed. That’s the problem with babies, they’re too young to deceive or impress with either goods or cleverness.

I’d told her all about my triumph the night before and she fell asleep–honestly–she has a genius for a mother and she ignores me–impressed–oh yeah, but like Simon, it’s more with my breasts than my brains.