At Aunt Greta’s–
A Gaggle of Girls
by Gabi
Chapter 17 of a Continuing Saga…

Hearing footsteps coming down the stairs we looked up and saw Bryony coming down; she was wearing a swirley, knee-length, light green tiered skirt and a yellow strappy top, which seemed to accentuate her boobs, with white ankle socks and sandals.

‘Oh, hi, Bryony,’ Farah chirped. ‘You look awesome,–great top.’

‘Wow, Bryony,’ Lacey gasped, ‘Looking at you now, I can’t believe you were ever a boy, you’re so pretty, and I love your outfit. I’ve got a skirt just like that ’cept mine’s mauve.’

‘I was only a boy on the outside, I’ve always been a girl on the inside.’ Bryony replied, as she reached the bottom of the stairs and did a twirl for us, making her skirt flare out prettily.

Juniper, Kristal and Angela each gave her a hug by way of saying, ‘Hi!’

‘You’re looking amazing, Bryony; sooooo kewel,’ I told her, able to get a word in edgeways at last. She gave me a big cheesy grin.

‘Well, girls,’ said Mrs Rose, ‘let’s go into the lounge and have a chat, shall we? I want you to explain to me all about your B.B.C. It reminds me of a secret society I had with some of my school-chums when I was your age.’

Bryony held the lounge door open for us and we all trooped in. Mrs Rose sat in a large comfy-looking armchair and we ranged ourselves on the two sofas facing her. Angela, Juniper, Kristal and Lacey took the big one and Bryony squeezed between Farah and me on the smaller.

‘So tell me about your B.B.C.’ said Mrs Rose. ‘What does it stand for, apart from British Broadcasting Corporation?’

‘The Bryony Buddy Corps, ma’am,’ replied Farah.

‘So I guess that with the word buddy in it, it was your idea, Farah?’

Farah blushed, and nodded. Bryony gave her a hug.

‘So what gave you the idea for the Bryony Buddy Corps?’ asked Mrs Rose.

‘One of the other kids at my school, back in the States, is like Bryony, and when she started coming to school as Nora–instead of Aron–some of the jocks and dumber kids started bullying, teasing and calling her names; so several of us girls got together to protect and support her.’

‘When Farah told us about Nora,’ I said, ‘we decided that we should do a similar thing for Bryony for when she comes to school as her true self.’

‘Especially after what ’appened to Gaby last week,’ Angela chipped in.

‘What happened to you, Gaby?’ Mrs Rose asked.

I wished Angela had kept her mouth shut. ‘I–I–was…’ I began.

‘Molested, she was,’ piped Angela, sounding more Welsh than usual, ‘by that ’orrible Kenneth Quinn an’ two of ’is big macho mates. And her on ’er period too.’

‘It was all the fault of my stinking brother, Kevin,’ Kristal added with her eyes cast downwards. ‘He told Quinn that Gabs was a tranny–a boy who likes to dress up as a girl.’

Mrs Rose looked shocked. ‘You poor dear, how absolutely appalling. I hope they weren’t rough with you.’

‘When they grabbed me I told them I was a girl, but they wouldn’t believe me,’ I said. ‘I’m afraid I kneed Quinn in his gooli…his you-know-whats.’–I felt myself blushing at the word I had nearly said–‘It was three against one and it was all I could think of. At least it made him let go of me ’cause he had to nurse himself…’

‘–That was tidy,’ Angela interrupted.

‘–But the others grabbed me; Dick Head held me while Ray Gunn pulled down my–’

‘How absolutely revolting,’ Mrs Rose exclaimed. ‘Boys are such savages these days. I hope something is being done about them.’

‘Well, just as Gunn was pulling my err–knickers down, my aunt arrived on her motorbike and they got the shock of their lives. Head bolted for it, but Auntie had Gunn in an arm-lock and Quinn was still clutching himself in agony. Soon after that the police turned up.’

‘I’m glad to hear it,’ said Mrs Rose, ‘but they’ll probably get off with just a ticking off and told not to be naughty boys again.’

‘They’ve been, like suspended from school,’ Kristal said. ‘I’m just glad Mummy grounded Kevin before he could go and join in what he thought would be such jolly fun. Honestly, boys are sooooo pathetic.’

‘I bet Kevin’s glad too–NOW,’ Lacey added. ‘Why is it that are boys so stupid? D’you think they have more than a single brain cell in their heads? Ooh, I bet his friends will be piss–oops, sorry, Mrs Rose–at him.’’

‘Well it seems that the three who molested Gaby must have had something barely the size of an amoeba up there,’ Mrs Rose said with a smile. Then, looking serious again, added, ‘Surely they must have known there would be consequences. This incident makes me worry about Bryony’s safety.’

‘That’s why we have formed the B.B.C.’ Farah said. ‘After what Gaby suffered when they thought she was a boy, we thought that if Bryony was to start coming to school as a girl she could be bullied like my friend Nora in the States. If we girls stand up for her, I guess other girls, and maybe some boys will join in our group.’

‘There are a few decent boys in our year,’ I remarked. ‘Michael Heard and Philip Atlee for example.’

‘Yeah,’ said Angela, ‘It’s a good thing Phil Atlee’s not a bully.’

‘Why do you say that?’ asked Lacey, looking puzzled.

‘Well,’ replied Angela, ‘surely you’ve heard the old saying, “Phil Atlee will get you everywhere”!’

A groan came from most of us and Mrs Rose looked bemused.

I had a sudden thought and proclaimed, ‘Intimidation is the severest form of Phil Atlee.’

‘That’s tidy,’ said Angela, giggling.

Mrs Rose grinned.

‘I don’t understand,’ complained Juniper. ‘Phil’s a nice boy; he wouldn’t hurt a fly.’

‘We didn’t say he wasn’t a nice boy, Juniper,’ said Farah. ‘Gabs said it was a good thing he wasn’t one of the bullies, then Angela and she mangled some well-known sayings like “Flattery will get you everywhere”.’

‘Oh, I seeeeee,’ said Juniper after a short silence. ‘Phil Atlee sounds a bit like flattery.’

‘I wonder if Phil Atlee collects stamps?’ asked Bryony.

‘I’ve no idea, darling,’ Mrs Rose replied to her daughter. ‘Whatever made you think of that?’

‘His name,’ replied a giggling Bryony.

‘His name? What d’you mean, darling,’ asked Mrs Rose.

‘Oh, Mum-mee! Think about his name–Phil Atlee.’

‘Yes, darling, I was,’ replied Mrs Rose, still looking perplexed; ‘but I still don’t see why being called Philip Atlee has anything to do stamp collecting.’

We girls just looked at each other and grinned. Some mothers!

‘And now, girls,’ continued Mrs Rose, ‘shall we go through to the dining room where Bryony and I have laid out a tea-party. You can explain more about the B.B.C. while we eat.’

It was a delicious tea with hot-buttered crumpets, dainty sandwiches, brown bread and butter and strawberry jam (my fave) and then a gorgeous cake with pink icing on it and finally strawberries and Cornish clotted cream.

During tea, Farah had mentioned how we spent the morning searching for Auntie’s old dolls’ house in the garage loft so, natch, everyone wanted to come and look at it. I gave Auntie a quick ring to ask if it was convenient for an invasion of girls to come and inspect her treasure, and she said it was and would we like some tea?

‘We’ve only just finished a huge tea, Auntie,’ I explained, ‘and there will be seven of us.’

‘Seven?’

‘Yeah–Farah, Bryony, Angela, Kristal, Lacey, Juniper and little me.’

‘That’s quite a gaggle,’ replied Auntie.

‘Are you saying we’re like geese, Auntie?’

‘No, you silly wee goose, of course I’m not,’ she replied with a chuckle. ‘Bring your gaggle round and play with the dolls’ house to your hearts’ content. It will be so nice to see it giving children pleasure again.’

‘Okay, Auntie, we’ll be round in about half an hour.’ I replaced the ’phone on its rest and returned to the other room.

* * *

As we approached Auntie’s house, Farah was waxing lyrical about the dolls’ house. ‘It’s just sooooo cute,’ she was saying, ‘and Auntie Greta told us that her dad made a lot of the miniature furniture for it and that he copied it from some of the pieces in their house.’

‘That’s right.’ I confirmed. ‘Auntie still has the dining table and chairs and loads of other things, including the bed I sleep in–which was hers when she was a girl.’

Farah looked at me and grinned: ‘It’s gargantuan–a real giant of a bed,’ she remarked. ‘Gabs and I shared it last night and there was still enough room for one or two more. The doll house has a miniature version of it.’

‘And there’s even a tiny potty underneath it,’ I added. ‘It’s got flowers all over it.’

‘A doll’s gazunder?’ chirped Juniper. ‘But how sweeeet.’

‘I hope it’s empty,’ Bryony chipped in.

‘Bryoneeeee!’ said Lacey pulling a face. ‘Eeewwww, dolly poo and wee–that’s sooooo disgusting.’

We all grimaced and then fell into a fit of the giggles. Two ladies walking towards us looked askance as if we were all feeble-starkers-bonkers and quickly crossed the road to the other pavement in case we had something contagious they could catch if they came too close, which made us giggle all the more. We were still giggling as I opened the front gate. As we walked up the path to the house, Auntie opened the door to greet us.

‘Welcome, girls,’ she said as we trooped up to the door. ‘So you’ve all come to see Esmeralda’s house.’

‘Esmeralda?’ I queried.

‘Yes, Esmeralda; didn’t I tell you my favourite doll was called Esmeralda? I called her that after seeing the film of The Hunchback of Notre Dame, with Maureen O’Hara playing Esmeralda to Charles Laughton’s Quasimodo.’

‘Did you have a Quasimodo doll too?’ asked Bryony.

‘I don’t think there was such a thing,’ Auntie replied. ‘My Esmeralda wasn’t really meant to be her. It was just that I liked the name and she was a redhead which made her look like Maureen O’Hara.’

‘Would you have liked to be called Esmeralda?’ asked Kristal.

‘When I was your age, yes, because I used to think it was such a glamorous-sounding name. Mind you, if I had been given that name I would’ve wanted to change it in my teens, and today the idea of being called it, fills me with horror.’

‘I don’t think I’d wanna be called Esmeralda either,’ Farah stated. ‘It seems kinda un-cool. I wonder where it came from?’

‘I believe it was Spanish originally,’ replied Auntie G. ‘Something to do with emeralds.’

‘That makes sense,’ Angela said. ‘I like emeralds; Mummy has a fab emerald ring–it’s really tidy.’

‘You and your tidy,’ said Auntie G.

‘Well, everyone says tidy in Cardiff,’ Angela replied in her sing-song Welsh accent. ‘It’s, like, the same as kewl only different.’

‘That’s tidy,’ said Farah with a grin and Angela stuck her tongue out at her.

‘So I suppose unkewl would be untidy?’ queried Lacey.

‘I never thought about that,’ admitted Angela, ‘but I suppose it could be.’ She frowned. ‘Hey, Lacey, look yur you, you’re not takin’ the Mickey, are you?’

‘No, Angie, ’f course I’m not,’ Lacey replied hastily.

‘Well, girls,’ Auntie said, ‘You’d better go and see Esmerelda’s House. I’ve set it up in Gaby’s room. Be careful with it, won’t you; it’s very precious to me.’

‘We will, Auntie,’ I said, leading the way upstairs. As soon as I opened my bedroom door, I saw Esmerelda’s House was set up in the same place it had occupied in 1944–next to my chest of drawers. As each of my friends saw it they would gasp and utter a series of ‘Wows, Kew-elles, Awesomes,’ and a couple of ‘Tidys.’

‘Wow, Gabs, that’s totally like, amazing,’ gasped Juniper. ‘Would you mind if I brought my kid sister, Holly, round to see it sometime?’

‘No prob.,’ I replied. ‘What year’s she in now, year six?’

‘No, five,’ came the reply. ‘Logan’s the one who’s in year six. Mind you I reckon he’d like to see it too.’

I looked at Auntie and, noticing an amused smirk on her face, guessed she was thinking about the names Mr and Mrs Berry had chosen for their children which set me wondering what they would have chosen had they had another baby; would it be Rasp, Blue, Black, Cran or Goose? I had to stop there as, offhand, I couldn’t think of any other types of berry and suddenly I realised Kristal was asking me something.

‘May we see inside please?’ she asked.

‘Sorry,’ I said, coming back down to earth, ‘I was away with the fairies.’ I knelt in front of it and unhooked the two catches that held the two halves of the front shut and swung them open wide.

‘Oh, wow-wee, Gaby,’ gasped Lacey. ‘It’s like sooooo awesome. You’re really-really lucky to have something like this.’

‘It’s not mine,’ I replied hastily, ‘it’s Auntie G’s.’

‘It’s the perfect size for Barbie,’ Bryony said. ‘Did you have any Barbies when you were a girl, Miss Chambers?’

‘Good gracious me, no. I had mainly soft dolls–stuffed with some sort of wadding or sawdust. Mummy made some of them and others came from the toyshop. Sadly they suffered from moths. Barbies never appeared in the shops until the 1960s by which time I was grown up and much too old for them.’

‘I think we’re really too old for them, too,’ said Juniper, ‘but I really love my Barbie c’lection, and of course I share it with Holly who’s not yet nine.’

‘How about Logan?’ giggled Lacey.

‘Logan’s not into dollies,’ replied Juniper.

‘Not even Action Man?’ asked Bryony.

‘Actually he has about four of them,’ replied Juniper, ‘and you’re right, Bryony, Action Man is a dolly–a boy dolly.’

‘–With cooties,’ I added.

‘Look, there’s the gazunder,’ Kristal squealed joyfully.

‘It’s just like the one we used to keep in the air-raid shelter,’ Auntie G replied. Farah nudged me and when I looked at her she grinned.

‘Good ’eavens,’ exclaimed Angela, ‘did you actually ’ave a wee in the air-raid shelter? Couldn’t you have used the outside loo?’

‘We could have done, but what if a doodlebug fell on the house while one of us was in there?’ Auntie replied. ‘Ah, that’s the front door bell.’

She headed downstairs, leaving us playing with Esmeralda’s House. I could hear happy voices coming from downstairs and wondered who had arrived. I didn’t have long to wait before finding out, because there was a knock on the door and a gruff voice I recognised instantly said, ‘Is like, my sister in here?’

‘Tim-meeee, darling!’ I squealed joyfully, leaping to my feet and nearly knocking Bryony over in the process. ‘Are you all better now?’ I rushed to him and gave him a bear hug.

‘Hi, Gabs. Yep, all germ free now. Wow, you look like, amazing; and your hair–it’s grown so long.’

‘Careful, Gabs,’ Farah warned me, ‘remember he’s a boy and boys have cooties!’

‘Timmy doesn’t. If he did he’d be ringing a hand bell and calling out, “Unclean! Unclean!” Timmy, this is my new friend, Farah Way from the USA; she’s in year seven with us. Farah, this is my big brother, Timothy Chambers Esquire.’

‘Hi, Farah, Mum told me a bit about you.’

‘Hi, Timothy Chambers Esquire,’ said Farah, holding out her right hand. ‘I sure hope you don’t have cooties.’

‘None at all; the doctor examined me all over and she said like I was a cootie free zone.’ He looked around the assembled company. ‘Help, I seem to be like outnumbered–’ he counted our heads, ‘–seven to one. Wow, Gabs, you’re so pretty. If I wasn’t your brother I would, like, fancy you.’

‘Thank you, brother dear,’ I replied, thrusting out my A-cup chest at him.

‘Is that all you?’

‘All me. No padding at all,’ I replied proudly. ‘So you’re like all better now? No strawberry tongue?’

‘Nope. All mended,’ he replied and then stuck out his tongue for inspection.

‘Eeewwww,’ said Lacey, throwing up her hands in mock horror.

‘So what are you all doing up here,’ Tim asked.

‘Lookin’ at Miss Chambers’ wonderful dolls’ ’ouse,’ said Angela.

‘Auntie G, Farah and I rescued it from the loft over her garage,’ I explained.

‘I suppose that now you’ve got that to play with, Gabs, you’ll not want to do anything more for our model railway layout.’

‘Don’t be silly, bruv,’ I told him. ‘Girls are allowed to like model railways too; anyway, I love making models with you.’

‘And we all want to like, see it, too,’ said Angela.

‘And me,’ said Bryony.

‘Oh, hi, Bry–ony,’ Tim said. ‘Mum said something about you; you look really nice and I think you’re being very brave, so if you get bovver from the likes of that ape Quinn, just let me know, okay?’

‘Thanks, Tim,’ Bryony replied, beaming at him.

‘We’ll have to make you a member of the B.B.C.,’ said Lacey, and seeing my brother frown, added, ‘–the Bryony Buddy Corps.’

‘I’ll explain about it to you, Tim,’ I said. ‘It’s like, only in case Bryony comes to school as herself–instead of being Bryan.’

‘So she doesn’t suffer what Quinn did to Gabs,’ Kristal explained.

‘And the teasing like, she got on the first day,’ Angela added. ‘Some of the boys were rotten the way they be’aved.’

‘Yes, I owe that great lumbering oaf one for what he did to you, sis.’

‘Well he’s suspended from school at present: Ray Gunn and Dick Head too,’ I said.

‘I’d like to suspend all three of them from something else,’ Tim said, grimly. Looking at him he seemed different from how he had last time I saw him–the day he went off to scout camp about four weeks earlier–stronger, more determined and more of a man.

‘My brother Kevin like, could have been in trouble too,’ Kristal told him, ‘but Mummy had grounded him ’coz she heard him telling Quinn stories about Gabs on the ’phone.’

‘You mustn’t blame Kevin,’ I said. ‘I must take some of the blame for pretending to be a boy for so long. He thought I really was a boy.’

‘I think we all did,’ Lacey added. ‘You made a very realistic boy you know, Gabs.’

‘Complete with cooties?’ asked Farah.

‘Yep, complete with cooties,’ I agreed, grinning.

‘Eeewwww!’ exclaimed Farah, but giving me a hug all the same. ‘Just as well you’re a girl then, isn’t it?’

‘Yeah,’ I replied, giving her a grin.

‘Well then,’ Tim said, ‘are you guys gonna let me see this superb-looking dolls’ house? How come I’ve never seen it before?’

‘It was put away up in the garage loft,’ I replied. ‘It makes the little houses I build for our model railway layout look rather sad in comparison.’

‘That’s baloney, Gabs, the houses you make are at a scale of four millimetres to a foot, and the detail you put in them is awesome in something so small,’ Tim reassured me. ‘This must be at least one twelfth scale–one inch to a foot.’

‘We’re all longing to see your train set, Tim, and to watch the trains going round and round in circles,’ Lacey remarked–rather cattily, I thought.

‘It’s not a train set, Lacey,’ I protested, ‘and it does not go round and round in circles; the trains run into a terminus.’

‘Does it take long to set it up?’ Kristal asked.

‘No time at all,’ replied Tim. ‘It’s set up permanently in the loft.’

‘Does that mean we have to like crawl round on our hands and knees?’ Juniper asked.

‘Of course not,’ Tim replied, ‘The baseboards are at table height, so you can stand up and view it in comfort.’

‘I think I have a couple of photos somewhere here,’ I said, heading for my chest of drawers. ‘I think they’re in my knicker drawer.’

‘So you have a knicker drawer, do you, Sis?’

‘’Course I do, brother dear. I don’t wear Y-fronts now,’ I replied, while looking under the colourful assortment.

‘Y-fronts?’ Farah asked.

‘Boys’ briefs,’ Kristal answered.

‘We call them tighty-whiteys. Eeewwww,’ Farah squealed. ‘They’d give you cooties.’

‘I’ve found them; one colour and one black and white.’ I handed them to the sceptical Lacey.

‘Oooh, steam trains,’ Angela squeaked, looking over Lacey’s shoulder, ‘There’s lovely. My tad-cu”  has lots of pictures of steam trains he took from the bottom of his garden in Caerdydd. The main railway line runs just over the back fence.’

‘Where’s that?’ asked Juniper.

‘Cardiff, twpsan*,’ replied Angela.

‘Steam trains are more interesting than the smelly modern diesels,’ Tim stated.

‘Wow,’ exclaimed Lacey. ‘It looks so real. Did you two really make that?’

‘Tim makes a lot of the trains,’ I said.

‘From kits,’ he added, ‘and Gabs makes the buildings, and they have furniture and people inside. She’s got such nimble fingers.’

‘It’s awesome,’ Farah said. ‘Look, in the garden there’s like washing hanging on the line and two girls are doing handstands and showing their panties. That’s sooo cute, whose idea was it?’

‘Mine,’ replied a blushing Tim, ‘but Gabs modified the figures, and she made the washing lines and the houses from scratch using plastic card. She also made the hotel, and when you come and see the layout you’ll see it has a full interior if you look through the windows. There’s a reception desk in the hall, a bar and a restaurant, and bedrooms upstairs.’

‘The houses in the colour picture are set against the backscene,’ I explained, ‘so they’re only half-houses. I’ve only done one room in them so far.’

‘It’s a bathroom,’ said Tim, grinning. ‘With a naked lady drying herself after her bath.’

‘I s’pose that was also your idea, Tim,’ Juniper said, giggling. ‘Typical boy!’ She raised her eyes heavenwards. ‘Haven’t you any naked boys anywhere for us girls to look at?’

‘Yes–well almost naked,’ I replied. ‘He’s wearing his underpants in one of the bedrooms in the hotel, and mopping his bald head with a towel.’

‘Ooh sex-eee,’ quipped Lacey.

‘It’s because his girlfriend’s like, reclining on the bed without any clothes on,’ Tim added.

Juniper and Lacey looked at each other wide-eyed.

‘Ach-a-fi,”¡’ exclaimed Angela. ‘I think that’s a bit rude.’

‘Are you sure Tim doesn’t have cooties, Gabs?’ Farah asked, giggling.

‘He definitely doesn’t have them,’ I replied.

‘Did you make the boat, Gaby?’ asked Bryony, quickly changing the subject.

‘I made that,’ Tim said. ‘It was from an old Airfix plastic kit.’

‘Who made the hills and things?’ Bryony asked.

‘We did that between us,’ I replied. ‘Tim made the frame, and we both did the papier maché covering.’

‘Gabs did all the detail work–like the rock outcrops and things; she’s like really-really clever,’ Tim added. ‘And she made the trees; some of them even have like, wild life in them–squirrels and birds.’

‘Awesome,’ sighed Farah.

The door opened and Auntie G and Mummy came in. ‘Hi, Mummy, I didn’t know you were here. Have you come to see Auntie G’s amazing dolls’ house?’

‘Well, I thought I’d like to see it before I cart your poor invalid brother home.’

‘We’ve been looking at some photos of Tim’s and Gaby’s awesome model railroad,’ Farah remarked. ‘They’re like, sooo clever to have built up something like that.’

‘And I bet my wicked son’s been pointing out all the naughty bits,’ said Mummy, sticking her tongue out at Tim. ‘Honestly, Gaby, you’ll have to learn how to keep your big brother under control.’

‘But he’s bigger than me, and three and a half years older,’ I grumbled.

‘Yes, dear, but you’re a girl,’ she replied and added quietly so Tim could not hear, ‘knowing how to keep boys in check is something all girls have to learn. Now let the dog see the rabbit.’ She knelt down by the dolls’ house. ‘Oh, Greta my dear, it’s absolutely wonderful. I longed to have one like that when I was a girl.’

‘It’s like, a bit special, isn’t it, Mum,’ Tim remarked. ‘Auntie Greta, Gaby says that Great-Great Uncle Crispin made a lot of the furniture for it.’

‘Yes, Daddy was very clever at such things, and he had enormous patience,’ Auntie G replied. ‘It wouldn’t surprise me at all if you and Gabs inherited a lot of your modelling ability from him.’

‘I must say, Greta, the furniture in the dolls’ house is beautifully made. He must have taken so much trouble over it.’

‘Well, he used all the right timber,’ replied Auntie, ‘and he French polished the dining table and chairs with all the care and attention of a professional French polisher.’

‘I must admit they are exceedingly beautiful,’ Mummy said. ‘In fact real miniature works of art.’

* * *

After having a glass of freshly-squeezed orange juice seated round the dining room table, the girls headed for their respective homes. Bryony was complaining of a tummy ache, so her mother came and collected her in the car.

Soon after the others had gone home, the five of us who remained–Auntie Greta, Mummy, Tim, Farah and me–sat down to have Saturday high tea, a bit of a tradition in our family. The menu could be anything from fish and chips bought from the chippy down the road, through baked beans on toast, an omelette, a bowl of nourishing home-made soup, or a salad. That Saturday, Auntie told us she had some rather delicious kippers for us.

’Kippers?” exclaimed Farah. ‘What the heck are kippers?’

‘They are smoked herrings,’ Auntie replied. ‘They’re one of our favourites for Saturday high tea. A friend in Scotland sent me some special ones from their local smokery.’

‘Not those gorgeous pale ones?’ asked Mummy.

‘The very same.’

Oh, wow,’ Tim exclaimed. ‘What a treat.’

I know some people don’t like kippers on account of the multitude of small bones in them, but I don’t worry about them because they are so small and hair-like that they won’t get stuck in your throat. We had them grilled and accompanied by thinly-cut wholemeal bread and butter, and a mug of tea–absolutely scrummy, and Farah enjoyed every bite.

Not long after we had finished, Mummy took Tim home and Farah and I helped Auntie with the washing up–well, loading the dishwasher, and then went up to “our room” and played with Esmeralda’s house until bedtime.

* * *

Meanwhile, in the Rose household, Bryony’s tummy ache was no better. The blame was laid firmly at the door of “too many strawberries” at tea-time–she had had a second helping and would have liked a third if her mother had not put her foot down firmly. As she didn’t really fancy the supper her mother had made her, it was decided that she would be better off having an early night and would probably feel much better in the morning. So she went upstairs, undressed and had a bath and was in bed ready for “lights-out” by ten past eight and tried to go to sleep.

At half past nine she was still awake and she needed to go to the loo. She put on her slippers and headed for the bathroom, bumping into her mother outside her room.

‘Are you feeling any better, sweetheart?’ Helen Rose asked her offspring.

‘Not really, Mummy. My tummy’s worse if anything. I’m just going to the loo.’

‘You don’t feel icky, do you?’

‘No, I just need an urgent wee,’ was the reply, as she entered the bathroom.

After she had finished, Bryony looked in the pan and got a surprise. ‘Mummy, can you come please?’ she called.

‘What is it, darling, is something wrong?’

‘Look in the loo,’ came the reply.

After a brief glance, Helen sent her back to bed and went to the telephone and dialled a number.

When it was answered, she said. ‘Oh, hello, Dr MacNeish; I’m sorry to trouble you so late, but I’m worried about Bryony. She has a bad tummy ache and has just passed some blood through her penis.’

To be continued…
_______________________

”  tad-cu: Welsh for grand-dad
* twpsan: stupid girl
”¡ ach-a-fi: A Welsh expression of disgust

---

Thanks are due once again to Bonzi and his Mum for their erudite proofing and bits of Welsh language and dialect.
Thanks also to Kaleigh and Annette for advice on American girlspeak
Any mistakes remaining are the entire responsibility of the author.

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