The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2168 by Angharad Copyright © 2013 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

At mid-morning the next day, the phone rang and I answered it. It was Jason, the school had heard of the arrest of the schoolteacher and offered apologies, it had nothing to do with his activities and deplored his attempted assault. They also said that while they were not aware of Danni’s current status he or she was very welcome to return to the school where they operated a policy of equal opportunities and difference and diversity was welcomed.

I nearly fell over when I heard this and Jason could hardly keep the mockery out of his voice. I knew when I told Danni, she’d cry with laughter. It might be what it said on the tin but the contents were anything but, otherwise, how did the young thugs I reported to the headmaster have the freedom to pick on smaller children? besides which Danni was doing so much better with one to one tuition and her English was coming along nicely.

We were focussing on just a few core subjects, maths, English, science, history and geography. As it became known I was a biologist I was talked into doing some of the teaching of this subject when it became necessary. The problem being I operate at a slightly higher level of knowledge than that required for GCSE exams or even A-S level, so coming down to that level could prove a bit of a challenge. Oh well, we’d see, I refused to do any chemistry or physics–they weren’t exactly my strong point though in certain areas I’d obviously used them indirectly in my undergrad stuff but I was always a bit shaky on the maths and physics.

As these were quite strong areas in Simon’s education, he did maths and physics at A level, then went on to do PPE at London, he could sort out any queries Danni might have and I could make myself scarce at the same time or even simultaneously.

After the phone call I made the tutor a cuppa and took it through to the dining room, which is where they usually do this stuff. Danni was using her laptop and it reminded me to show Sammi the curriculum on the IT module and ask if she could teach Danni what was required. She’s going to be around for a bit as she’s due for surgery in the next month or so. I must ask her if she’s got the date yet and be free to go and collect her. Simon will miss her on the train when he goes up to town–then she’ll have the fun of shoving a square peg in a round hole, or is it the other way round? Dilation is such a joy–I don’t think unless done with the help of a sexy man–enter Simon. Well, I think he’s sexy, so there–do stop laughing, it’s uncalled for...

I was drinking my tea in the kitchen when David came in to start making lunch and preparing for dinner. It must be a real dawdle for him as in a restaurant he’d be used to making twenty different meals all at once. Stella had finished her tea and gone to change Fiona who’d pooed in her pants. I offered David a cuppa and he accepted, though he likes it stronger than I do–just as well it had stood for ten minutes already and would be the Darjeeling equivalent of Tom’s coffee–liquid mud.

In the course of the conversation, I asked David if he found us rather boring by comparison to a restaurant or hotel. “Different but certainly not boring,” he replied.

“Don’t you hanker for banquets or multiple desserts or even working with others in a busy kitchen?”

“No, not one bit. I enjoy the fact that since I came here I’ve been able to stop my blood pressure pills and I don’t get palpitations anymore. I can go home at a reasonable time and know I’m finished at the same time you occasionally ask me to do something special and I enjoy that as a different challenge.

“I love working for you because apart from the actual cooking, it’s sometimes fun to be part of the bigger things you get involved in and it’s also good to be part of such a devoted team and family. If I hadn’t been here I’d never have met Ingrid and her daughter would I? Like yourself, I can’t have kids but Hannah does give a chance to pretend I’m her dad like your kids do with you as their mother.”

“D’you plan on marrying her?”

“I dunno, Cathy, she’s not divorced yet so she’s still tied up in that regard, and I don’t know what I want from the relationship yet. We’re very fond of each other and we are good together but whether that will last forever is another matter.”

That puzzled me but I had the politeness not to ask why he felt so undecided, it wasn’t my business and I had enough to worry about of my own stuff, so let it go. Naturally, as a nosy woman, I was intrigued by what he’d said but I could live with it and find out when something happened one way or the other. I hoped it settled down because Ingrid had helped significantly with my housework and she was teaching Jacquie a few tricks too.

Then he went on to his favourite subject, Portsmouth football club, of which he was a shareholder as was half the city. I sometimes think he did this to get rid of me as I find soccer as appealing as paint drying as a spectator sport and he well knows it. So on the excuse of needing to make a phone call, I left him to his catering and got on with my emails and mammal survey work. He called me an hour later to go for lunch where he prepared a delicious chicken salad with things like homemade coleslaw and pickle. He also did the vegetables from the garden we stuck in the freezer–boy is that tedious, peeling and cleaning, chopping and blanching but he does it with no complaints at all, makes me look a right whiner–I’m not am I? It’s so unfair to be compared to a professional...

Lunch is at one and the tutor, whom I’ve invited to stay always goes telling me she’s given her homework to do which should keep her quiet all afternoon. Quiet? Ha, she comes to me if I’m home and asks how she should answer this or that. If I’m not there then David or Stella get asked and they get it wrong as often as they do right, so she gets a telling off which she tries to evade by saying that English is not her native tongue.

The teacher was canny enough to know that there was a joke coming–it’s Pompey talk, is her native language–bit like a watered-down Cockney only perhaps more glottal or as they’d say here, glollal. Still, I’m sure there are worse places to live so gi’me a few hours and I’ll try and think of one, there must be one–um...