The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike) Part 1688 by Angharad Copyright © 2012 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

“They’ll ring up tonight or first thing tomorrow,” replied Livvie to my question about how many were coming.

“So we don’t know for certain yet then?”

“Nah, but I invited a few just in case.”

“What?”

She giggled as did the other two. “Trish invited a couple of extras and Mima wanted her friend Grace to come as well.”

“Hang on a moment, how many are possibly coming?”

“Ten, maximum, Mummy.”

I felt like banging my head on the steering wheel but that would probably set of the airbag and bruise my face again. “This is supposed to be Livvie’s party,” I said a little tetchily.

“I don’t mind, Mummy.”

But I do, and I’ll bet the others wouldn’t do the same for her.

“Right, if anyone else invites anyone, I’ll cancel the whole thing,” I threatened as I started the car and drove home as fast as the traffic would permit. At this time of day, it’s probably quicker to cycle. I was calculating how many bits I had to make up goody bags, which they all seem to expect and they’re not cheap. By the time you’ve finished, redecorating the house, paying off the police for injuries received and actually fed and goody-bagged the little monsters, it’s probably cheaper to fly them all to Spain and let them lay waste there. I’m sure the crusades were only about trying to find cheaper ways for young mediaeval men to have stag nights; and let’s face it, every night is a hen night in a nunnery. At this moment I’m half inclined to want to run off to one, except I wouldn’t pass the entrance exam, and by the second week, I’d probably have them all agnostic.

I called in the toy shop on the way home and leaving the girls in the car with instructions not to move unless the car catches fire or gets hit by another. Fortunately, neither of those things happened, and I managed to grab half a dozen more bits and pieces for the goody-bags. Then it was home and they could do their homework tonight before dinner.

We were having fish, Marks and Spencer had a special offer on plaice, so I’d grabbed three of the boxes of four fillets and, hence our tea tonight with chips and peas–should go down a treat. Simon was bringing the chips home with him at six, so I put the fish in the slow oven on some baking sheets covered with foil after spraying them with lemon juice and a slice of tomato.

Once that was done and the kids changed into their playing clothes, I made them do their homework and while they were occupied Jacquie and I made up a dozen or more bags for the party. I warned her that tomorrow we’d need all hands to the pumps to get the food done in time. The party was four till six, and part of me thought, why don’t I just order in pizzas instead–kids seem to like junk food better than the stuff I make? Simon and Danny will eat anything left over.

I called Livvie and asked her which would she prefer, pizzas or party food. Without one iota of hesitation, she filled my prediction. I called the pizza place and ordered four, all different–like I said, Simon and Danny will eat any leftovers–Stella and I will have a jacket potato.

I mentioned my concerns about Kite’s death and implications of us being involved. “I’ve dealt with that, I had Jason visit the local plod and he had a forensic scientist come engineer with him. There isn’t enough of the car left to identify the make, and barely enough of Kite to make a sandwich.”

“Ugh, that’s horrid–could there be a chance he got out of it?”

“No way, besides he left enough blood behind to make black puddin’.”

“Simon, you are revolting at times.”

“At times? I’m obviously slipping from my low standards.”

“Yes you are, good night.” I kissed him and turned over to go to sleep, “Oh I’m ordering pizzas tomorrow for Livvie’s party.”

“Oh good, bags me the doggy bag.” He gets more like a spaniel by the day, if he starts panting with his tongue hanging out, I’ll take him to the vets.

The next morning after breakfast, Livvie was given her birthday prezzies and was delighted with the Wii. An hour later while I was making sausages on sticks and jellies she was fighting it out with Trish in a virtual tennis match–she’d already beaten Si and Tom. Mima fell moments later, then Trish succumbed and I think Danny let her win because he was off playing football. Jacquie has less hand eye coordination than I do, so she was next on the victory march and I opted out saying I was too busy–she’d have beaten me anyway, not that I care. If she gets a virtual cycling game–nah, I’m not tempted.

At four pm, in fact a few moments before that, we had arrivals who came bearing gifts. By the time we finished, we had fourteen of the little darlings and I had to raid my secret store to make up two more goody bags–if anyone else arrives, they get a few dog biscuits.

The pizzas arrived at five and I cut them into thin sections, they are only eight year olds, and Danny and Si, assisted by Tom, ate the equivalent of one and half large pizzas, besides all sorts of sausage rolls and sausages on sticks.

Julie didn’t arrive home until the kids were going home, so she had a jacket potato with Stella, Jacquie and me. I had tuna, but I think they decided on cheese–I had a bag of grated cheese in the fridge.

By seven, the dishwasher was on and I felt exhausted, I’d pretty well been on the go from the moment my eyes opened. Livvie was still queen of the Wii, except she was running out of cannon fodder. Finally, Danny stirred his stumps and beat her comprehensively. I felt glad that someone had, now if he could do the same with Trish and her physics, I’d be very grateful.

“You were certain about that car, weren’t you?” I asked Simon just after we’d got into bed.

“Look why don’t you just go and confess to the police if it’s causing you so much worry.”

“I can’t, I have the children to consider–they still need me.”

“Well then, just forget it–that evil bastard was threatening you and them–I’m not sorry for what happened except the trauma to the two lorry drivers, and we can make that up to them later–an insurance pay out or some such thing.”

“It was still a life, Simon.”

“Yeah, but the average spider is less repulsive than Kite was. He was pure poison and wanted to get his bite into you. The police will be examining his accounts for ages yet, they say the Inland Revenue are extremely interested and a few more arrests could happen yet–he was dealing in drugs all along the south coast.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, really. He’s linked to stuff in Brighton and down to Bournemouth in the west. He was a bigger villain than anyone other than you had appreciated.”

“I didn’t know he was that bad–how come he didn’t get caught?”

“He was careful, and ruthless–anyone who even thought about talking, met Ditchley on a one way ticket to the nearest motorway.”

“Motorway? What a trip away from the area.”

“Only as far as propping it up.”

“I thought that sort of thing only happened in gangster movies.”

“Yeah, those and real life.”

“Crikey, he was a wicked man.”

“Something like that to the power of twenty.”

“You always bring in mathematics–I’m going to sleep,” I kissed him and turned over to go to sleep, irritated by the bed shaking with his laughter.