The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike) Part 1379 by Angharad Copyright © 2011 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

Once the food was organised, I ran upstairs to change–I’d worn a skirt to rehearsals because I’d be wearing one during the play, however, I wanted to wear something different to dinner, and opted for some smart slacks with short sleeved top both in black–they make you look thinner. The top had some lace around a deep vee neck–if you’ve got it flaunt it.

Simon came in and said, “You look nice tonight, babes, any reason why?”

“Just to be attractive to my hardworking husband, oh and Iain McPherson.”

“We gonna watch a film after then?”

“I hadn’t thought to, why?”

“Well he’s a film actor, isn’t he?”

“He’s also a Shakespearean actor of some renown.”

“I know, I’ve seen him on stage–but I thought he did the same as Tony Hopkins and all the others do and push off to Hollywood.”

“Chasing the money?” I suggested.

“Yeah.”

“A bit like bankers?”

“Yeah–I s’pose–hey, you wotchit.”

I sniggered at Simon, I catch him everytime.

“This alright, Mummy?” asked Julie wearing a top which had less material than a handkerchief.

Before I could say anything, Simon launched forth, “You’re not going out like that, my girl.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“So, why are both of you dressed up like floozies?”

I burst out laughing but Julie got quite angry–“I can wear what I like in my own home, can’t I? Seeing you sitting about in a pair of shorts with your belly hanging over the top is far worse than me showing my assets. Bloody caveman.”

Not the best way to deal with Simon, so before he exploded I sent her up to put on a longer skirt and steered him to the dining room to select some wine to go with dinner.

“What the hell is going on? You’re both acting like there’s something special happening.”

“We’re having a dinner party.”

“Gee. Thanks for the advance notice.”

“I only decided at six o’clock.”

“Why?”

“Because that’s when I invited our guest.”

“Guest, what guest?”

“Iain McPherson, how many times have I got to tell you, now go and change into something casual but tidy.”

“I’ll bet Tom’s not changed.”

“In which case he’ll get no dinner.”

“Is this all richt, Cathy?” Asked Tom looking tidier than when he went to work this morning.

“Fine, Daddy.”

“Go on–hurry up,” I pushed Si towards the staircase.

“I don’t believe it,” he said sounding like Victor Meldrew, but he ascended the stairs. Moments later, Julie appeared wearing a different skirt but it was the same length, I glowered at her but did nothing else. She poked her tongue at me.

“That’s most unbecoming in a young lady,” scolded Tom and she blushed.

“Sorry, Gramps, do I look alright?”

She did a twirl and he held her at arm’s length and said, “Ye look, braw, lassie.” She gave him a hug and pecked him on the cheek.

“You wouldn’t mind reading the girls a story, would you, Daddy?”

“Aye, all richt,” he went up the stairs, still quite sprightly for an older man.

Jenny came down, also wearing a plunge top and short skirt, I hope she realises we’ve got soup for starters.

At five minutes to eight, the door bell rang and I let Simon answer the door. I listened to voices in the hallway then chuckles. “Cathy, there’s a copper–sorry–a police officer here, something about you speeding?”

“I haven’t been speeding,” I protested, well no more than usual, and walked out to the hallway. Standing there was Iain and Si, both laughing like schoolboys, but Iain was holding a bottle of wine and bouquet of flowers.

“Any more from you husband, and I’ll send you to sit on the naughty boy’s step. Hello Iain, you found us alright, then?”

“I take it that’s a rhetorical question, or I’m some sort of hologram.”

“You look pretty solid to me,” said Simon clapping him on the shoulder, “Come on in and meet the rest of the family.”

“Oh wow,” said Julie as she was introduced.

“You don’t look old enough to have such a beautiful and grown up daughter,” said Iain turning on the charm.

“Oh she’s my adopted mum, she’s only a few years older really, so ignore the grey hairs and bags under her eyes.”

“If I have grey hairs and bags under my eyes it’s worrying about you, missy, that’s caused them.”

“Ladies, please, there’s enough of me to go round and I’m happily married–I hope, this time–I’ll have you know.”

“This is, Jenny, my nursery nurse and housekeeper.”

“I can’t believe I’m meeting you in person, oh my God,” she rushed off to the loo and I thought I heard sounds of retching.

Finally, Tom appeared, “Thae lassies ’re lyin’ doon noo.”

“Iain, this is my adopted Daddy, Professor Tom Agnew–he’s also my boss, so be careful what you say to him.”

They immediately lapsed into broad Scots shaking each other’s arm off and chattering away like a bubbling cauldron. I went to sort the soup, calling Julie and Jenny to help.

“Oh, Cathy, these’re fa ye,” called Iain and I went back to accept them.

“Thank you, kind sir,” and I pecked him on the cheek. I took them out to the kitchen and plonked them in some water–they’d have to wait, Trish could do them tomorrow, she likes flower arranging.

The three waitresses arrived carrying two soup dishes and laid them on the table, we sat where we usually do and that meant Julie was next to Iain on one side and Tom was on the other.

The meal was a success insofar as everyone enjoyed it, but Iain and Tom blethered practically the whole time–they came from the same area of Scotland and both had gone to Edinburgh University–Iain read philosophy and political science. Somehow I felt very ignorant. I watched Simon muscle in on the conversation and even he developed a slight Scottish accent–or revived his own one. I’d never heard him talking like that before.

Julie tried several times to interrupt or join, and while they were polite, they ignored her. I cleared the table and Jenny, who’d given up trying to get attention helped me carry the dirty dishes out to the dishwasher.

“My one chance to meet a dreamboat like him and he’d rather talk about football or rugby–are they all like that?”

“My experience is limited, but it’s one hundred per cent like that, I’m afraid.”

“Gee whiz, what a waste.”

She looked at me and we both started to laugh. At this point, Julie arrived and I set her to making the coffee.

“Ha,” she said loudly, “if I went in there naked they wouldn’t bloody notice–bloody football.”

“I think they might all notice one little thing–and it would spoil the illusion,” I suggested not thinking for one minute that she’d actually do it, but just in case–she can be a bit unpredictable and I never offer a dare–she’d do it.

Jenny looked puzzled for a moment, then smirked, “Oh that, I forgot you weren’t a native female–you certainly look the part now, me girl.”

We took the coffee through to the dining room where it seemed much quieter–the reason became obvious, there standing before the table was Trish in her Hello Kitty pyjamas. She was talking philosophy with Iain.

“And why are you down here, young lady?” I asked pretending to be a stern mother.

“I was discussing Aristotle with Iain, why? Oh yes, Catherine is cryin’, thought you oughta know.”

“She may want a feed, Cathy,” suggested Jenny, “Shall I go and get her?”

“Better had,” I picked up my coffee and turned to go to the kitchen, “You, missy, bed in two minutes or else.”