The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike) Part 1826 by Angharad Copyright © 2012 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

The next morning was Friday and David usually did something with fish, despite none of us being Roman Catholic, and I adore his fish dishes. So it was with some disappointment I discovered we, or rather he, had a problem.

He approached me while I was fiddling with Meem’s hair, it wasn’t doing what I wanted in terms of plaiting it, and she was getting irritable as well. “I need to take a couple of days off, Cathy.”

“You were due the weekend off, in any case,” I replied not wanting to quarrel with him, but hoping that he might cope with that time instead.

“Sorry, I need today, something has come up, it might take a few days to sort.”

Curiosity is my middle name, so I was almost biting my tongue to avoid prying. He’s a good worker and has helped me out a number of times by watching the kids. I hoped it was nothing serious.

“Fine, let me know when you can start back and if there’s anything we can do to help.”

As David is quite a private sort of person I knew he’d prefer to solve his own problems, at the same time I felt obliged to offer help as he was a valued member of the household and a brilliant cook.

I got the girls to school and by the time I was back at home David’s car was gone, so I presumed he would be with it. I had a cuppa with Jacquie and we resolved to see what was in the fridge for dinner. Some salmon, but not enough for everyone unless–unless I made a fish pie, I hadn’t done one for ages. Doubtless David would do it better, but then he was a professional, I was just a basic amateur who occasionally had the good fortune to throw some ingredients together in the right order and quantity. I hoped my luck held out until he was back.

I set Jacquie to making some fresh bread–we’d need two loaves at least. While she was doing that I filled a bowl with potatoes from the paper sack of them which lived in the larder. We seem to get through them in an astonishingly short time, but David knew a wholesaler and we got them at the wholesale rate. He organised everything, I just paid the account once a month.

As I peeled the tubers, I wondered what he was doing and did he need help. Something inside me thought he did, but whether that was intuition or an overdeveloped need to save the world and everyone on it, I wasn’t sure.

“Bread’s on, need help with those?” asked Jacquie who was turning into quite a useful pair of hands about the house.

“Could you check on Catherine? she seems a bit quiet.”

“She’s up with Stella and her two.”

“Oh, okay, then grab a peeler and jump in.” You know what they say, about we could all use an extra pair of hands, the only problem is it would make sweaters look very odd and play hell with the design of jackets.

Between us we finished the mound of spuds and I set about cutting them up and shoving them in the large saucepans. It needed two pans to cook that many, remember we are like a tribe here, not just a family.

The pans were set to boil and I began to prepare the fish, stripping it off any skin and frying it quickly with some basil and chives to seal in the flavour. I then made a white sauce mix and placed the fish into the bottom of two large ovenware dishes, and poured the white sauce mix over them adding a little salt and pepper. I popped the dishes into the oven to warm though and turned down the spuds to simmer.

Jacquie made us some more tea and took a mug up to Stella along with a biscuit. By the time we finished our cups, the spuds were cooked and I mashed them, added some butter and milk and creamed them. Then I added the grated cheese Jacquie had prepared and mixed that in. This was placed on top of the fish, with a little grated cheese being added to the fish in sauce and also sprinkled on top of the spud.

Lunch was poached eggs on toast, which I knew all the children would eat and by the time I’d cleaned up the mess and checked on the dinner, it was time to collect the girls. I’d spent nearly all day again making meals–no wonder I valued David so much–I just hoped he wasn’t bored by living with us and was looking at other jobs–we’d never get anyone as good as he was.

We returned home and just in time to check the fish pie, which was cooking rather well, if I say so myself. It smelt delicious, which tended to indicate it might taste quite good as well, so I lived in hopes. The girls were sent to change and start their homework after a drink and a biscuit–just to keep them going. Danny came home a little later and as he’d been playing football–how daft is that–having them play in their sport’s lesson the day before they were due to play for school matches. So all his kit was wet and dirty; it’s just as well he has two sets of boots and so on, some of the others probably don’t.

Si and Sammy arrived with Tom who’d done the dormice for me and finally, Julie and Phoebe got home so I could dish up the dinner, which was served with mixed vegetables–frozen ones rather than fresh.

David’s car parked outside his place and Simon and Tom began to realise who’d cooked the meal. I think they were impressed, I know I was pleased with the result. I sent Danny over to ask if David if he wanted any as there was a portion left over. To my surprise he accepted and came and ate with us.

“So you did cook it then or did David leave it for you to warm through?” asked my suspicious hubby.

Before David could deny all knowledge, I lied, “Yeah, I just warmed it through and did the veg.”

“I thought so, you can tell the professional touch,” trilled Simon, whereupon Jacquie, Stella and David began to laugh.

“What’s so funny?” enquired my bewildered hubby.

“You are,” beamed his sister, circling round him like shark eyeing up a drowning man.

Simon began to smell something fishy, and it was the pie but also the conspiracy of silent sniggers coming from those in the know. “Why?” he asked.

“David had the day off, Cathy cooked the pie.” Stella crowed as loudly as any self important rooster ever had, and Simon began to look as if he might be related to a tomato.

“I knew that all along,” said Simon stroking his nose, which I checked in case it had grown.

“That was very good,” said David laying down his cutlery his plate empty save for a few streaks of sauce. I felt my chest swell with pride, praise indeed.

“Absolutely,” agreed Simon still trying to wriggle off the spit upon which Stella was roasting him.

“Sae ye didnae dae ony o’ yer dissertation, then?” accused Tom bringing me back to earth with a thump.