The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2160 by Angharad Copyright © 2013 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

“And where were you?” Trish said loudly at me before noticing I had company blushing and mumbling ‘sorry’ as she backed away.

“That was Trish who isn’t usually quite so rude. Excuse me while I send them up to change unless you want to see them in their school uniforms.”

“No, you send them to change.”

“I’ll organise a cuppa as well.”

Five or so minutes later I was back with two mugs of tea and plate of biscuits–the plain chocolate hobnobs that neither Simon nor the girls had found. I’d also left out a biscuit and drink for the three mouseketeers while they were changing into their playing clothes.

Danni came down and showed me her homework, it looked satisfactory and she asked if she could go and do her facebook stuff. I asked if that was as Danielle and she nodded.

“Just be aware that if you revert back, some people will remember, so try not to post anything too personal or too identifying.”

“I won’t.”

“It worries me the stuff that kids will post unaware of who might be accessing their page. You never know who is about these days and the internet plays into the hands of these creeps rather too easily.”

Lizzie agreed with me, she was holding little Lizzie who was quite content to be nursed by anyone whose attention she could get.

“Mummy, what’s for tea, please?” asked Livvie knocking on the door.

“Some roast lamb, which I’ll need to warm up for you. Are you staying for tea?” I asked Lizzie who shook her head.

“No, I’ll have to go in a minute and sort out my own family.”

“This is Olivia who prefers to be called Livvie, the one just coming in is Jemima whom we call Meems, and the one skulking at the back is Patricia who is usually known as Trish.”

“Pleased to meet you, girls.”

“This is Mrs Alexander with whom I was at university.”

“Hello, Mrs Alexander,” all three echoed like she was a VIP visiting their classroom.” Then the three of them dashed off to do their homework before their favourite television show started.

Lizzie left about twenty minutes later and we all waved her off, including Danni who’d obviously finished facebooking or whatever verb is used for posting too much personal or confidential information on a public site is called.

I’d get Sammi to check her computer later on just in case it was getting too personal. Sammi had persuaded her university to allow her to finish her course online–it was a computer course after all and I suspect they couldn’t teach her too much anyway.

She did a couple of hours per week on assignments, more when she had time, but seemed to be staying the course from what she told me. The bank was paying for her course, so she was well pleased.

Julie arrived in a right old strop and I asked her to go out and come back in again. She swore, went out and I heard the car starting up and off she went. Phoebe who was upstairs was then pumped for more information.

It seemed Julie had acquired a massage couch as someone she knew wanted to offer that service from the salon, and it would all help pay the bills and attract customers. However, Julie also had an ulterior motive, she now had somewhere to entertain prospective lovers, and while it wouldn’t be as comfortable as a bed, it had to be better than in the back of a car, especially a Smart car.

I knew Julie was boy mad and seemed to get through them quicker than she did a pack of tights. So that’s what she was up to. She was however an adult and as she wasn’t doing this under my nose, I couldn’t say anything at all other than to caution her.

According to Phoebe, last night, Julie, who was supposed to be working late, had a liaison set up only for the cleaner to turn up in the middle of it. She usually comes after eight on a Wednesday, the salon’s late night or early in the morning. However, seeing the place all closed up she thought it was okay to go in and spoilt Julie’s little game. Tonight when she went in, they had a flaming row and Julie sacked her, then got into her strop because she realised she’d have to clean the place up herself before the morning. I do keep trying to teach them actions have consequences.

I sent Julie a text, ‘Want me to speak with ur cleaner?’

She responded with the woman’s phone number. Phoebe told me her name was Janice Reynolds. I dialled the number.

“Hello?”

“Mrs Reynolds?”

“I’m not buyin’ nothin’.”

“I’m calling on behalf of my daughter, Julie Kemp.”

“Oh yeah, to apologise I hope.”

“If that would make you feel better, I’m happy to apologise to you, though I make no excuses for her behaviour, I’m sure you’re aware how stressful running a small business can be these days.”

“Does she realise ’ow stressful bein’ the cleaner can be?”

“I know she appreciates the work you do for her.”

“So she should, works me ’ands to the bone, I does.”

“So would you be prepared to come back to work for her?”

“I dunno, she was pretty mean to me.”

“If I was to pay you a compensation of fifty pounds, tax free of course, would you consider it.”

“I think I might just consider it.” She paused as if pretending to decide. “All right, done.”

“I’ll tell her to expect you tomorrow evening.”

“Right you are, Mrs Kemp,” she said and rang off. I placed five ten pound notes in an envelope and wrote Mrs Reynolds’ name on the front of it. I then asked Phoebe to ring Julie and tell her to come home and have her dinner.

By this time Si and Sammi had arrived as I was dishing up the roast lamb. Danni and I had a snack having already eaten a dinner at lunchtime. Julie came a little later and I gave her her dinner.

“Thanks for sorting that out, Mummy.” She pecked me on the cheek as she sat down at the table.

“That’s okay, sweetheart.”

I handed her the envelope. “What’s this?” she asked and I explained it was Mrs Reynolds’ blood money.

“What? That scruffy old git, she should be glad she’s got a job.”

“She is now and so are you, so unless you want to continue your evenings cleaning the place as well as working there by day, feel free to tell her.”

“Uh–I think I’ll leave it for now.”

“I’da come an’ helped you, Sis,” volunteered Danni.

“Actually, we could do with a new Saturday girl, if you're interested?”

“Oh yeah, that’d be great.”

I interrupted, “I’m not sure how legal that would be, Julie as Danni’s only thirteen, so if I were you, I’d suggest you pretend you’re simply helping your sister out, rather than working there.”

They both nodded at me and smiled.

I thought I was helping the government, the Prime Minister said that kids should be earning or learning if they wanted government help. I wonder when he’s going to send them up chimneys again, ours could do with a clean.