The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike) Part 1047 by Angharad Copyright © 2010 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

“‘Snot fair,” sulked Trish, “she can wear makeup an’ I can’t.”

“Trish, I explained that it was as a disguise to get her out of the café.”

“Don’t care, ‘snot fair, I wanna wear makeup too.”

“I think you’re going to be wearing your nightie when we get home, young lady.”

“No I won’t.”

I stopped the car and turned around to face my backseat passengers. “Trish, when we get home you will change into your nightdress, you can then have some cereal or toast and you will go to bed. Do you understand?”

“That’s ‘snot fair, too.”

“I don’t care. You will not openly defy me without definite consequences. I gave you a chance to withdraw and apologise. Instead, you continued to cheek and defy me. The consequences are that you will go to bed early.”

“I don’t care, I won’t sleep.”

“Trish, don’t push your luck—you’re acting like a spoiled brat—and if I were you’d I’d quit while you’re ahead. Anymore cheek and the punishment will grow.”

She leant back in her seat, arms folded and she mimed, “I hate you.”

“Sadly from your point of view, I love you, and will continue to do so despite your actions or words. I’m your mother, and you will do as I say, no matter what you think.” I turned back and drove them home.

I sent Trish upstairs to change and went to start cooking the dinner.

Billie followed me into the kitchen, “Can’t you let Trish off? It’s sort of my fault that this happened.”

“That’s very kind of you to intercede on her behalf but it’s too late—she pushed her luck and now has to take the consequences. In the words of the Bible, ‘As you sow, so shall ye reap.’”

“Mummy, for someone who is always God-bashing as Daddy calls it, you seem to know a lot about the Bible an’ religious stuff.”

“Religious stuffing, yes, that’s an accurate description. It was stuffed down my throat in junior school, and ever since I’ve disliked it intensely.”

“That’s all right, Jesus will forgive you.”

I ruffled her hair, “Yeah, I suppose so.” I decided I wouldn’t bother trying to explain anything else and upset her or the applecart.

Trish sulked into the kitchen and I made her a bowl of cereal and some toast. “What are you having for dinner, Mummy?”

“Lamb chops, why?”

“But that’s my favourite, Mummy ...” The tears began to flow and I felt a total monster, but I was going to hold firm.

“Maybe you’ll learn when to stop trying to cheek me or insist on your own way.”

“I’m sorry, Mummy.”

“It’s too late now, sweetheart.”

“But ‘snot fair.”

“Life rarely is fair, you have to learn to cope. If I let you off now you’ll cheek me again, no matter how you promise, you won’t keep it.”

“I will, I promise, Mummy—cross my heart and hope to die.”

“I won’t let you off—you can go upstairs and wait in your bedroom until dinner is ready, then you can come down and eat, but straight to bed afterwards, and you can keep your nightie on. Now go, or it’s bread and water for the next week.”

She hugged me, apologised once more and ran off before I could strangle her. I must not give in to her—little besom. Once again, she outwitted me—dammit.

I banged pots and pans about in the kitchen and the others took the hint and kept out of the way. I sent Billie to take off her makeup and she looked at me completely clueless. “Go and ask Livvie or Trish—there’s some remover pads in the bathroom—try not to get the stuff in your eyes.”

Minutes later Stella arrived with Julie, who now had jet black hair. I decided to just ignore it—life is far too short for all this stress. I wonder if I took the UN job, would they allow me to run away to New York? At the moment, it looks rather an enticing prospect.

“Thanks for collecting her, Stella.”

“‘Sokay, that smells good.”

“Lamb chops.”

“Oh goody.”

I carried on with my cooking and Stella came down and asked, “Why is Trish in bed? Is she ill?”

“No, she was naughty and didn’t take the hint to stop when I made it perfectly clear she was dancing in a minefield.”

“Ah, the delights of youth.”

“No, the rewards of foolishness.”

“I’d better go before you send me to bed as well then.”

“Can you ask Livvie to lay the table?”

“She was upstairs with Billie in the bathroom.”

“Okay, Danny, can you lay the table, please.”

He came out to the kitchen and began clucking like a chicken then he pretended to strain—“Nah, it’s no good, I can’t lay anything, sorry, Mum.”

Stella sniggered, and I sighed loudly, “What is the matter with them all tonight? It’s not Friday the thirteenth is it?”

“Don’t think so.”

“Must be a full moon then. Can you lay the table while I dish up?”

Despite further protestations and sympathy from everyone but me, I sent Trish back to bed—I knew perfectly well she’d only read until the others came up, but on her own she might reflect on her behaviour and modify it. Knowing her it would be to get round me next time without any hitches. Life with her is like playing chess against a supercomputer.

When I took the others up to bed, she was still awake and reading. I read them a story and tucked them all in. Then I kissed them and told them I loved them all.

“When is Billie gonna come in here as well, Mummy? asked the chosen one.

“There isn’t room for another in here, that would be four—it would be more like a dormitory than a bedroom.”

At this they all shrieked, “Lights out at nine, candles out at ten.”

“You what?”

“It’s what Auntie Stella says.”

“It’s very rude.”

“Why is it rude, Mummy?” guess who wanted to know?

“You’re not old enough to understand yet.”

“Is it about sex, Mummy?” Trish continued to torment me.

“No, candles are a fire hazard, now go to sleep.” I blushed and left behind a gang of gigglers whose cackles were clearly audible downstairs.

“I thought you put them to bed?” Stella chuckled.

“Just because I haven’t actually killed anyone yet, doesn’t mean I won’t before the night is out.”

Stella giggled and went back to loading the nappies into the tumble dryer. I had a quick cuppa before chasing the um—other kids to bed. When I got them upstairs, Danny asked me, “Mum, how long have I got to share a room with a girl?”

“You seemed happy to share with Billie before.”

“Yeah, that was before she went all girly—I can hardly do so now can I?”
,
“So where do you suggest I put her or you?”

“Can’t she go in with Julie?”

“Hardly—Julie is virtually grown up, and sharing with a youngster would be unacceptable.”

“I’ll share with her then.” His eyes sparkled.

“Over your dead body—and believe me, the first time you upset her, it would be. Besides, what’s the difference between Billie and Julie?”

“Julie’s got tit—um, she’s more grown up.”

“And you seem to have booked a passage on the Titanic and be heading straight at the iceberg.”

“Yeah—okay.” He shrugged, and I smiled at him. Hhe’d lost his little game but had the nous to know when he was beaten.

Simon arrived full of himself, so after he’d eaten he told me was pleased with himself. I asked why and he explained he’d sold a large tranche of BP shares for a client and the commission had paid for a present for me.

“You bought me a present?”

“Yep,” he fished in his pocket and brought out a small oblong box which was gift-wrapped. I wondered if it was a bracelet.

“Thank you, darling,” I said and kissed him.

“Aren’t you going to open it?”

“Of course.” I smiled and gently eased open the package trying not to tear the paper.

“Just rip it open,” he exhorted.

“No, I don’t like to.”

“I think we can afford new paper, we don’t have to save the old stuff, ya know.”

In the end I had to cut it with the kitchen scissors, and on opening it and seeing what it was I squealed. “Oh, thank you, darling.” I hugged him and kissed him.

“It’s outside, or had better be.”

I rushed to the drive and there sitting next to his Jaguar was an A class Mercedes. My eyes filled with tears and I hugged him. “How can I thank you?” I kissed him again.

“When we get to bed, we’ll consider it.” he winked at me and then said, “Well aren’t you going to try it?”

Before he could change his mind I grabbed my bag and ran down to the car.