(aka Bike) Part 1698 by Angharad Copyright © 2012 Angharad
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“If I tak’ ye fa lunch, ye’ve to agree no greetin’ the day.”
“Okay, Daddy, I promise not to greet anyone.”
“Och, ye scunner, ye ken fine weel whit it means.”
“Okay, I won’t cry all over your curry, that better?”
“Aye, I’ll see ye in heff an’ oor.”
I hadn’t planned on going to lunch other than a flying visit to the refectory for a sandwich and a cuppa, both of which are passable and reasonably priced. Instead I’d have a tuna jacket potato–hmm, I could quite fancy that today. Tom had called me about something else–the meeting on Friday–and when he offered to pay for lunch, I assumed he wanted me there for a reason. I looked at the letter from the United Nations again. I wondered if the two were connected. Too bad, I gave my answer last time, I haven’t changed my mind.
I dealt with the rest of the post and freshened my lipstick, checked my hair and wandered up to his office, the offending letter in my handbag. I offered to drive as he was wanting his usual glass of Guinness–though how he could drink that stuff was beyond me.
I took us to his usual luncheon venue and we were shown to his usual table and he ordered his Guinness and an orange juice with lemonade for me. When those came, he pretended to peruse the menu only to order his chicken curry with rice and I held to my original idea of a tuna jacket. While they went off to fish for the potato or dig up a tuna fish, we chatted.
“So what was the reason for inviting me out to lunch?!
“I prefer tae eat wi’ someone, why?”
“I thought I might have to sing for my lunch.”
“Nah, I’ve hear’d ye in yon bath–nae thanks.”
“So that’s it, you just wanted my company?”
“Aye, whit’s wrang wi’ that?”
“Nothing.”
“Guid, here comes oor food an’ I’m starvin’.”
He tucked into his curry with gusto as I tried to eat my jacket spud as elegantly as I could, until I dropped some into my lap, which of course missed the serviette and landed on my velvet trousers.
He chuckled, “Aye, watch ye dinna drap ony.”
I blushed as I cleaned up my little mess, licking my finger and scraping at the mark before wiping it with the paper serviette. I became aware of him watching me, “What’s the matter I asked, noticing he had a faraway look in his eye.
“Nothin’,” he replied.
“Yes there is, what is it?”
He blushed and avoided my gaze, “Och it’s nothin’, it’s jes’ ye minded me o’ ma Celia, ye looked jes’ like her.”
I smiled at him and placed my hand on his, “If I do, then I regard it as a great compliment.”
He went beet red and finally gave me an embarrassed smile, “Aye, it wis meant as ain.”
We finished eating and I asked for a cuppa, he opted for an espresso coffee–one of those would have had me bouncing off the ceiling with the caffeine hit. I reached in my bag for my handkerchief–well okay–a tissue, when my hand brushed against the envelope. “D’you anything about this?” I asked passing him the envelope.
He took it glanced at the logo on the front of the envelope and then extracted and read the contents. “When did this arrive?”
“This morning.”
“I thocht ye telt them ye’re no interested.”
“So did I.”
“Sae, who’s reminded them o’ye, I wonder.”
“I have no idea, but my answer is the same–I’m not interested.”
“Hae ye daen onythin’ yet?”
“No, I thought I’d speak to you first.”
“Because ye thocht I wis responsible?”
“Something like that,” now it was my turn to go red.
“Aye, weel it wisnae me.”
“Gareth?” I queried.
He shrugged, “Esk him.”
“I could I suppose, except I’d hate to scare him off when things between him and Stella look a bit better.”
“Dinnae esk him then.”
“It couldn’t be Sussex again, could it?”
“Ye mean, Ezzie Herbert?”
“Yes.”
“Could be, I’ll esk around.” He glanced at his watch, “Drink up yer tea, I’ve a meetin’ in ten minutes.”
I dropped him off at the university, only this time I had my laptop with me and drove home immediately afterwards. When I got home, Jacquie was rushing round like a headless chicken.
“What’s the matter?” I asked as I entered the house.
“It’s Puddin’, we can’t find her.”
“Have you tried calling her?”
“Yes, of course we have.”
“Let me change and I’ll go looking for her, you keep a watch on Fiona and Catherine. Where’s Stella.”
“She’s out looking for her.”
If I knew Stella, she’d be frantic and wouldn’t be able to see the child standing in front of her. I rushed upstairs and pulled off my trousers and shoes and pulled on a pair of jean and trainers, swapping my blouse for a tee shirt and a pullover on top. There was still a coolness in the breeze.
I decided I’d start at the top of the house and work down. I could hear Stella calling out in the drive. I couldn’t believe she was outside, but then she could be inside and in danger: children do such silly things like falling asleep in washing machines.
I went up to the attic rooms and checked everywhere. She wasn’t there. Down to the next floor, and I started with the children’s rooms–she wasn’t there, I checked my own, she hadn’t got stuck in the wardrobe and fallen asleep. I looked in Tom’s–or would have done but his room was locked–unusual, we never lock bedrooms.
I went into Stella’s suite and checked everywhere there, she wasn’t under the bed or stuck in a cupboard or even in her own bed. Then downstairs and once again, she wasn’t anywhere to be seen.
Stella came in and we hugged. She was crying and certain she’d never see her baby again. I asked Jacquie to make her cup of tea. While she was doing so, I asked her if she’d changed some of the beds today as I’d asked her. She told me she had. I asked which ones–her answer, Tom, Stella and Danny. An idea was forming.
“Was Tom’s room locked?”
“When?”
“When you did the bed?”
“’Course not, I wouldn’t have been able to do it, would I?”
“Because it was just now when I tried it.”
“I didn’t lock it, I didn’t know it did lock.”
“Calm down, I wasn’t accusing you.” I looked at Stella, “I might have solved our problem.”
“You’ve found her?”
“I might have done, I need a newspaper and a hair grip.”
We tried banging on the door and calling her and all we got were whimpers in return, Stella asked her to unlock the door but it was obviously beyond the wit of a frightened toddler to do. So I did what I watched my dad do when a neighbour’s kid locked himself in their bathroom–remember Dad was very practical.
I slipped the newspaper under the door and then began working at the key. It took me about ten minutes to work the key into a neutral position and push it out of the lock, it falling with a metallic ping on the floor. I pulled through the newspaper and recovered the key and unlocked the door. Stella was through and into the room in a moment, two ticks later she was back out with her elder daughter.
I left them to their reunion and went in search of that brain food, a cuppa and plain chocolate digestive.
Comments
NO!
The way, thr truth and the light remains the plain choc Hobnob.
And a cuppa, of course.
You'd
never get the key under my door, not enough gap!
Nice epsipode, just enough drama to make the Archers but not Enders! lol
Mads
Madeline Anafrid Bell
I dunno
I dunno about that... You've not seen the gaps between the bottom of the door and the floor - for most of the older doors in our house. Oy. It's only the new construction that gets them down close here... I suspect I could get it under even on many of the newer ones - except for the bathrooms - where there's a marble sill.
Nice Tom wanted company for lunch... Wonder who's behind the new letter... And why.
Thanks, Ang.
Annette
And they say that men are logical?
Pah! So they may be but they've got nothing on us women.
Stella was too close to the problem but Cathy was used to figuring things out.
And in an old house, gaps under doors are quite likely.
S.
Toddlers! Gotta Love Them!!
That was good thinking on Cathy's part to verify with someone else that the door was unlocked when the bed was made. Since the door had a key, probably a skeleton key type that can lock and unlock from either side, all it took was a little effort by Cathy.
Toddlers! Gotta Love Them! And Puddin' was just doing what any other toddler her age would be doing - exploring, seeing a key, and having probably seen an adult turn the key countless times, she explored the key, turned it and locked herself in! Now she knows that a key will lock doors, and you can be on the wrong side. Perhaps a short lesson on locks, and how to unlock the locked door should be forthcoming.
Another great bikesode about everyday occurences that we all have. That is why the series is so believable.
Nice Touch this bikesode, Bonzi and Izzy.
Don't let someone else talk you out of your dreams. How can we have dreams come true, if we have no dreams?
Katrina Gayle "Stormy" Storm
Food
Somehow I'm not surprised that Cathy likes tuna jacket potatoes. ;)
Martina
Easy As Falling Off A Bike pt 1698
Why was the key left in the lock?
May Your Light Forever Shine
The key thing works.
My wife and a friend broke into a cottage that way. They thought it was the one we were renting for our New Year break but it wasn't as they realised when they saw all the personal stuff scattered around. Fortunately they weren't spotted and eventually got the key for the right cottage several doors down :)
The cross toasting at the cycle club dinner was very funny that year and a one of the awards included a jemmy, striped shirt and mask in a bag labelled 'Swag'. They weren't amused but everyone else was.
Losing a child must be an awful experience even when it turns out to be for a silly reason like here. My genes stop with me so I've no personal experience.
Robi
Seems to me Cathy is having trouble with spuds all day
^_^
The human kind is always more trouble though.
I am surprised Puddin' did not cry the whole time though.
Kim
Puddin' is a bit of a mess.
Puddin' is a bit of a mess. Reminds me of my recently deceased younger sister. She was good at getting in similar spots when she was a toddler.
CaroL
CaroL
I can certainly
sympatise with Stella. We were travelling down to Devon one year for our holiday, And as you do with a young family we stopped at a sevice area, For one moment we got distracted and that was enough for my daugter suddenly she was nowhere to be found..... Cue frantic parents dashing around like headless chickens It w
as with great relief when we found her some 3 or so minutes later innocently looking at (don't you just know it) some dollies..... She still gets reminded to this day of her mother rushing into the gents loo's looking for her errant offspring....
Kirri
.
Kids eh!
the little buggers find the most extraordinary ways to lose themselves, or worse, place themselves in danger.
One day I was spraying the second level bedroom floor high up in the attic because we found some wood-worm infestation.
To prevent uninvited access because the spray was toxic, I locked the bedroom door in the attic and sealed the surrounding gap with gaffer-tape. I was going to exit via the arched attic window and down a ladder onto the lawn approx 25 to 30 feet below..
Anyway, floorboards up, spray joists, replace boards and finish spraying ... easy yes? No!
I'm backing towards the attic window, slowly finishing the spraying and quite pleased with myself. Suddenly a little voice behind me asks,
"Wha' choo doin' daddy?"
"Spraying the bedromm floor darling," says I not realising for a moment where the voice was coming from. Then it hits me!
Rebecca, my little daughter, has climbed up the ladder after realising I was 'up to something' in the bedroom and she wanted to know.
I turned around to find my five-year-old daughter standing at the top of the ladder some 25 to 30 feet off the ground and leaning in through the attic window to see what was going on.
Kids!
They turn your hair white !!!
In the piccie below, the little arched window right up in the apex is the window of which I speak and of course, 29 years ago there was certainly no scaffolding around the house.
I can thoroughly understand exactly where poor Stella is coming from. Kids is a worry!!!
I've heard of bathroom door locks
being referred to as IQ tests for parents. Cathy passed.