Day 21
Chapter Text
Day 21 of Isolation on Tracy Island 2.0
"What the hell kind of noise was that?"
"I sneezed."
"That was NOT a sneeze," Alan argued, looking at me warily, like he expected me to explode again any second and take them all out with me. I glared at him, because how dare? I was the sick one and he was treating me like I was doing it to spite him.
"Be nice to her," John sighed, but his tone said he was barely listening and was pretty much done with all of us now.
I was camped out on the couch, where I'd been for much of the day. I'd gone past the point of having a head that felt like a steel band was rehearsing in there and had downgraded it to little demons with pitchforks that jabbed me whenever I coughed, sneezed or moved my head quickly. It was more bearable and wasn't as affected by sound levels made worse by noisy brothers.
I looked like crap, I knew that, my hair was scraped up on top of my head in a loose bun, I was wearing the shirt that John hates (but it was hidden by a blanket so his eyes were safe), soft leggings and the fluffiest socks imaginable. I wouldn't be winning any beauty pageants any time soon but at least I was comfortable. And I was still cold.
I know, I know, I could just go and put a jumper on or something, but that wouldn't work. Because I was in that awkward stage where I was too hot with a thick jumper on, but too cold without it. The blanket helped but it still wasn't right. And I was getting rather fed up.
Gordon, sweet boy that he is, handed me a mug of his famous tea (which is a lot more useful than his equally as famous squid sense right now) and immediately went into lecture mode.
"Have you let Virgil check your temperature lately?"
"Yes," I sighed and he lifted an eyebrow, clearly not believing me.
"She has," John confirmed. "And she's taken those vitamins. She's behaving."
"Makes a change from last time."
"Hey! No picking on me," I croaked, pausing to have a coughing fit. "Last time I was a strong, independent woman and now…" I paused, not sure how to finish that sentence without making myself sound bad or proving his point. I rephrased. "Look, last time I was used to doing everything for myself and not relying on anyone, now I've learnt to accept a little help now and then."
"You mean you were awkward, argumentative, you bit me and we had to resort to underhanded tactics?" Virgil joined in, earning himself a glare.
"Anything sounds bad when you say it like that," I grumped, lifting John's arm to snuggle under. "I said I was sorry for biting you but you were trying to do medical things to me and you know I don't work that way."
"Let me see your throat," Gordon asked, ignoring the ranting going on. I dutifully tipped my head back and opened my mouth.
"Not as bad as it was," Gordon admitted, after shining a light inside. "Close."
I closed my mouth and straightened my head so he could feel the glands in my neck.
"See, in being an adult and allowing myself to be looked at," I said, turning my head slightly to stick my tongue out at Virgil.
"Oh yes, you're a very mature adult," Virgil drawled. John sniggered but hid it with a cough that I knew was faked but I couldn't be bothered to argue about.
"Glands have gone down, she's definitely on the mend," Gordon told John, completely ignoring me. "Did she sleep OK?"
"I am here you know, I can answer questions." Again I was ignored. "You don't have to fuss over me, I can look after myself."
"EOS said she was very restless and woke up a number of times."
"I could have told you that," I said. "Since I was the one not sleeping."
"Did she drink much during the night?"
"They aren't listening to me, are they?" I asked Alan.
"They never do. Try being the youngest with four big brothers and a grandma. I've found it's best to just let them do their thing and just ignore them," he shrugged and offered me his spare controller. "Wanna play?"
I shook my head. "Thanks for the offer, baby bean, but I'm crap at it most days and this is not most days, plus I think the screen would make my headache worse."
Alan nodded his agreement, seeing the wiseness in my answer and went back to his game.
"I've been doing some research," a voice piped up from the portable comm on Jeff's desk.
"You have, EOS? What about?" John asked, pulled from his conversation with Gordon about my apparently fragile physical health.
"Cold remedies," she answered proudly.
"Cold remedies?" I asked dubiously. "Thank you, but I don't think I need-"
"Some of them seem to have no basis in scientific fact and so I cannot vouch for their effectiveness, but I do believe that some may help," she continued, completely ignoring the fact that I had been talking.
"Per my research I have disregarded some ideas and made plans to implement others."
"John?" I whispered, looking up at him.
"Hm?"
"Are we sure she's not still evil and trying to kill me off?"
"Well, nothing in life is a hundred percent certain," he mused. I sat up a little and tried to shift away but his arm tightened around my waist and dragged me back. "I'll make sure she doesn't try to kill you, OK?"
"Promise? Death by AI might be cheaper than a divorce."
"Tempting as that sounds, I promise."
I narrowed my eyes at him but stayed put, he was comfy and smelt nice but the second Scott got back I'd be swapping, Scott would never treat me this way.
"One of the remedies involves a drink called Gogol Mogol," EOS announced.
"That doesn't sound good," I muttered under my breath.
"What's that? It sounds vaguely Russian," John asked, already interested. Damn him and his desire to allow her to continue to grow and think for herself. He encourages her far too much.
"It is, it originates from both Russia and the Ukraine, you whisk together warm milk, honey, sugar-"
"That doesn't sound too bad so far," Gordon said, sounding surprised.
"Butter and egg yolk," EOS continued.
"Nope! I'm out, I don't do egg in drinks, it's just weird. And butter should be on bread, not in a drink."
"So you don't like eggnog?" Virgil asked.
"Eww, no, I'm English, we don't do that sort of thing." Yes, I admit, I said 'that sort of thing' like it was something disgusting and inappropriate, which to me it was.
"You never know, if this lockdown continues we might actually get a peaceful Christmas at home this year, then Dad can make his famous eggnog, the one that we all have to drink Christmas eve…" Virgil grinned evilly.
"Why are you picking on me today, Chonky? You're supposed to be the nice one."
Virgil batted his eyelashes innocently in my direction, but I wasn't fooled, I knew the truth.
"If you do not like that remedy there is also the one with the dirty socks."
"Erm, the what now?" Virgil was let off with a warning as I became instantly distracted. "I refuse to have dirty socks anywhere near me, let alone crushed up or stuffed in my mouth or whatever form this remedy takes."
"You simply massage a substance called lard into your neck and then use dirty socks as a scarf…"
"Pass," I declared.
"I've heard of that one!" Gordon said.
"I've looked into what lard is and my research says it is the rendered fat of the fatty tissue of a pig."
"We could try bacon grease," Alan suggested.
"No, we can't. That remedy is definitely not true," John insisted, seeing the look of horror on my face.
"It is, I read about it on Wikipedia," EOS argued.
"Oh, then it has to be real," John rolled his eyes.
"I have more if bacon fat is not to your liking," EOS interrupted.
"What are they?" I asked suspiciously.
"Pickled plums," EOS suggested. "In Japan they eat umeboshi, also known as a pickled plum, to prevent and fight colds and flu."
"That doesn't sound too bad," Alan commented, obviously listening in.
"Although it's not actually a plum, it's a variety of apricot-"
I gasped loudly, lifting my head in horror. "I TOLD you she was murderous!"
"I am not!"
"EOS, she's allergic to apricots," John explained. "And feeling dramatic."
"I am not dramatic, I'm just not well," I pouted.
"Garlic in a glass of milk," EOS tried again.
I shook my head.
"Next?" John said.
"Onions are said to be very good, you can put them in her socks or she can wear them as a necklace."
"Is she determined to make me smell?"
"Two pairs of socks," EOS continued to reel off.
"I'm already wearing the thickest I can find," I assured her.
"No, for this you soak your feet in hot water, then take a pair of socks, soak them in cold water, wring them out and wear them with dry socks over the top and sleep in them."
I didn't even dignify that with an answer. Wearing wet socks was never going to happen.
"That's not healthy, EOS, wet socks will make her feel worse. Plus she already puts her cold feet on me, I don't want to suffer them cold and wet."
"What about lizard soup?" EOS offered next.
"What, with real lizards?" Gordon asked with a laugh.
"Yes, the recipe calls for dried lizards simmered with yams and chinese dates to make a broth."
"John, please," I whined, burying my face in his neck in an attempt to escape all my problems. I love EOS, I do, she is our weird AI child but my gods does she try my patience sometimes.
"EOS, if you do not have any sensible suggestions then let's not have any at all."
"I do have sensible suggestions, I told you that I had disregarded some as they had no scientific basis or the ingredients would not be available on the island," she argued.
"And you think that dried lizards are something we just have hanging around in the pantry?" I asked, completely bemused, my voice muffled against his shoulder.
"No, but we have lizards in Scott's office. As far as I can see they serve no purpose…"
"I'm out!" I coughed, sitting up and throwing the blankets off. "I won't sit here and have her suggest I eat our babies because I have a cold."
I don't know if John said anything to her because I'd left the room, but I hope so, she needed telling. There were some things that should never be thought about let alone suggested. Honestly, next she'd be telling me to skin Armstrong and use his fluff as a vest or something.
I had only moved from the lounge to the kitchen but I was already feeling a bit shaky and very chilly, wishing I'd brought the blanket with me.
I reached for the tea kettle, checking there was water in it before putting it on the stove to boil. I'm old fashioned in many ways and any good witch will tell you that when it comes to tea leaf or coffee grounds readings you have to have fresh boiled water over flame, it's the law and so I have to have a proper old style kettle in the kitchen at all times. And yes they tease me about it. I flicked on the flames and that was when I heard it in the distance, the familiar whining drone of powerful engines.
"Oh, thank the gods," I groaned, my salvation was incoming.
I had made my fruity herbal tea and was sipping it by the time Scott came to find me.
"I heard that you stormed out of the lounge," he told me by way of greeting.
"EOS told me to eat our children," I informed him.
He blinked. "Well, I can't say that I ever expected to hear that, but unfortunately I'm not that shocked either."
"Mood," I muttered, sipping from my cup and shivering pathetically.
"I might regret asking," he started, helping himself to one of my blackberry and apple tea bags and pouring in hot water, "but how did the subject of eating Buddy and Ellie come up?"
"EOS was trying to help by offering cold cures, apparently lizard soup is a thing," I shrugged, adding more honey to my tea. I like things sweet dammit.
"Well, you learn something new every day, I guess. Did any of these remedies sound like they might actually work?"
"Nope," I sighed. "And I'm not going back to hear more, I'm just going to sit here and freeze for a bit and then maybe got to bed."
"That's not exactly what I'd call a sensible plan, the freezing part I mean, the bed would be good."
"But I'm bored of bed," I whined, yes, I'm admitting it, I was in whining territory today, I'm not proud of it but it is what it is. "I've been waiting for you to get back to save me from them all, I'm counting on you, don't let me down."
"So the fact that I just had to save a family of hikers from a broken down Gondola cable car half way up Ben Nevis means nothing when I should have been here to save you?"
"Was anyone hurt?"
"Nope."
"Were the kids excited to ride in Thunderbird One?"
"Yep," he grinned, proud of his baby.
"Then no, it means nothing, I'm more important," I decided, sipping my tea, daring him to argue. "You need to go and sort your idiot brothers and EOS out."
"Fine, you win," he chuckled, getting up from his chair. "I'll go and whip them into shape."
"Thank you," I said. He dropped a kiss on top of my head and left me alone to my misery.
It was actually quite nice to sit quietly for a while, the only person who wandered in was Jeff, but he didn't disturb me to the point of being annoying. He just helped himself to some coffee from the pot that was on its warmer and after checking on me briefly, left again.
Scott returned after twenty minutes, finding me half asleep with my head on my folded arms which rested on the dining table.
A warmth encircled my shoulders and I sighed gratefully, sliding my arms into the sleeves.
"I knew you had it," I muttered.
"Well, it is my hoodie."
"No, it's our hoodie," I corrected him, sitting up. "But I appreciate the loan of it at this, my time of need."
"Come on."
"No, I've not finished my drink."
Scott picked up my half finished tea, felt the temperature, luke warm would be kind, and abandoned it, knowing it was a lost cause, I was just using it as an excuse. "Back to the lounge, you can't stay here all day."
"I think you'll find I can," I argued, but I didn't put up much of a fight when he dragged me to my feet and propelled me up the stairs to the lounge.
Scott deposited me on the couch beside John and took the other side, sandwiching me between them so I couldn't run away.
"EOS, don't you have something to say?" John prompted in a semi-stern voice that I would have been a lot more interested in if I wasn't feeling so close to death. I made a mental note to explore it at a later date, preferably when I had rejoined the land of the living.
"I am sorry that I suggested using the bearded dragons to make soup," she parted obediently.
"And?" John pushed.
"And I have presented my findings in a more helpful way to Gordon and Virgil and they have agreed to help me implement them," EOS continued.
"Do I even want to know?" I asked Scott, who was my saviour, champion and provider of the hoodie and there I trust him.
"It's safe, we promise," John assured me. "I checked her research and picked the things I knew you could actually stomach."
"OK," I sighed. "What am I getting?"
"EOS was right, onions and garlic do help, so, since I can actually follow a recipe and Virgil isn't too bad either, we're going to make you your favourite bolognese with lots of onions and garlic."
"And lemon, honey and ginger are all recommended ,"Gordon added, "so I'm going to make you a big pot of lemon, ginger and honey tea from scratch."
"That doesn't sound too awful," I admitted.
"We can't do anything for the reduction of stress," Scott added, "we can't do miracles, but we'll try to behave for a few days until you feel better."
"I'd appreciate that."
"While we're doing that you're going to go and enjoy a hot bath, as hot as you can stand, because sweating out a cold is recommended," John continued. "Then you're going to get dressed in your warmest sleepwear-"
"My bat onesie!"
"Oh! I'm gonna wear my onesie too," Alan decided.
"And me," Gordon grinned, glancing at Virgil.
"Sure, let's have a onesie night."
"I refuse to wear that thing," John argued.
"Me either," Scott said, joining in. "They don't fit us."
"I'll allow that," I agreed generously.
"And then we can watch that ridiculous puppet thing that you like because you always say it makes you happy," John finished.
"Seriously, you're volunteering to watch the Muppets with me?" I was so shocked you could have smacked me around the head and called me Melvin.
"Sometimes we have to make sacrifices for the good of the family," he answered seriously. "Now scoot, we have cooking to do and you have a bath to stew in."
There wasn't much I could say to that, so I did as I was told, heading to the biggest bathroom where I kept the good bath oils, the one with the jacuzzi tub. I could feel the bubbles calling my name.
"You know you're not getting that hoodie back any time soon, don't you?" I heard John telling Scott as I went up the stairs. I didn't need to hear the answer to know he was right, I was keeping this for at least a week.
Chapter Management
Day 22
Chapter Text
Day 22 of Isolation on Tracy Island 2.0.
There is weirdness going on in this villa, weirdness I tell you. They all seem to be getting on really well and I knew they were planning something, I just didn't know if that was a good or a bad thing.
"OK, what's going on?" I asked Alan, picking on the smallest of the bunch. He was often the weak link in the group, he couldn't stand to be accused of things he hadn't done.
"Nothing!" he squawked but he had that shifty look in his eyes that I recognised far too well.
"Nope, not buying it," I coughed, folding my arms. I was starting to feel better but I was still feeling delicate and needing to rest a lot or I was getting light headed and grumpy (although Gordon said I was always grumpy).
"OK," he sighed, knowing he was beaten.
I waved a hand in a 'continue' gesture.
"It's thanksgiving tomorrow."
I gave him a blank look, because I'm English and even though I'd heard of thanksgiving it wasn't something that I knew anything about and I definitely didn't celebrate it.
"We've never celebrated before," I said.
"We'll we've never had the time before," he shrugged, not taking his eyes off his game.
Scott came in to sit down beside me with a cup of Gordon's tea which he handed me. I swear if I drink much more of this tea I'd start to slosh and look like a lemon.
"What he means is that International Rescue has taken up so much of our time for so long that we've never wanted to do a big celebration because it would always get interrupted. We tried the first few years but every time a rescue call would come in and we'd end up leaving, it stopped being worth the effort."
"We still try to do Christmas," John added, nudging me until I sipped my tea. Honestly, I hate tea, I only drink it when I'm not well because coffee tastes weird when I have a cold, but it was making me feel a bit better so I was sucking it up.
"But thanksgiving ended up being forgotten," Alan finished. "So Dad said we should make the most of this year and the fact that it's unlikely we'll get a call."
"We know the world is in a bad place right now but people need to be grateful for the fact that, while they can't see their family and friends as much as they would like to, they are doing their bit to keep their loved ones safe. And that's what thanksgiving is about, spending time with family and being thankful for everything you have," Scott said.
"I can understand that part," I nodded. "I just don't get the whole thanksgiving thing, it's not something we do where I'm from, so I know nothing about it. What's the story?"
All three of them looked at each other, exchanging one of those silent looks that family does where they are communicating nonverbally.
" I too would like to understand more about this human custom," EOS said, her holographic symbol floating peacefully above the table. "It sounds most interesting."
"We could tell you, but Grandma would be better, she used to tell us the story when we were kids," Scott said.
"Does this mean you guys have forgotten most of the story?" I guessed.
"No, of course not!" Alan protested.
I can't say I believed them.
Grandma was duly summoned to the lounge and we all settled in various chairs and couches like kids in anticipation of storytime.
"It all began around five hundred years ago," Grandma began, holding court like the Queen she is. "And a great many people in England were unhappy because their King wouldn't allow them to worship as they liked."
"Always the way," I muttered under my breath. "Always some king or other telling people how to pray. Couldn't even be a witch without being killed for it, but I know the Protestants had the same kind of trouble."
"The king told them they must worship his way or risk imprisonment or even death," Grandma said. "They were of course unhappy with this and a great many took it upon themselves to flee the country to settle elsewhere."
"So basically they yeet skeeted out of there?" I said.
"That's one way of putting it," Scott laughed.
"First they tried Holland, and called themselves Pilgrims, a word meaning someone who is always travelling to find something they love or a land where they could be happier. They said 'from place to place, toward heaven, their dearest country'."
I sipped my tea and listened, it was easy enough to follow so far, I knew about religious persecution, although I'd never left my home for it.
"The pilgrims were happy there for a while, they were quiet, peaceful people, but they were very poor. And, when their children began to grow up, they didn't have the same upbringing as their parents had, they weren't like English children, they spoke Dutch, like the children of Holland and some grew very disobedient and refused to go to church anymore."
"Sounds legit."
"The parents weren't impressed with this and, after much deliberation they decided to move again, wishing to go somewhere they could live their own way and make their own rules. They hired two ships, the Mayflower-"
"Oh, I've heard of that one! That's one thing I do know," I said, quite proud of my rather limited knowledge but you know, you gotta take what you can get.
"They hired the Mayflower and the Speedwell to take them across the sea to another land where they could make their home."
"So the pilgrim Mamas and Papas were like forget this, we're gonna ship off somewhere we get to make the rules?" I asked.
"Essentially, yes," John admitted.
"Honestly, I'm not too sure what to think of this right now, but I'm reserving judgment."
Grandma gave me a squinty eyed look of warning and I mimed zipping my lips.
"Unfortunately," she who must be obeyed continued, "the Speedwell was not a strong ship, and the captain had to take her home again before she had gone very far. The mayflower returned too to take some of the Speedwell's passengers. They travelled for more than two months-"
"Two months!" Alan yelped, "we can go from here to England in less than an hour in Thunderbird One."
"Yeah, that's crazy," Virgil agreed, shaking his head like he couldn't quite believe it.
"They landed and started building the first homes on Christmas day, but the journey hadn't been kind to them, many were sick and still suffered months later so were little help in the house raisings. They had barely any food, they had landed in winter when the land was barren and frozen, with great snow falls the likes of which they had never seen before."
"That sucks," Gordon said. "They should have been better prepared."
"By the time spring arrived their number had reduced by half from illness, starvation and cold," Grandma said, continuing with her far from pleasant tale. "The indigenous tribes of the area came to help, being friendly people and offered grain, seeds and tools with which to farm as well as the knowledge of when and how to plant to make the most of the land."
"That was nice of them," EOS said. "I have observed that it is uncommon for humans to help each other without payment or gain, but it seems that it was not always the case."
"No, it wasn't," John agreed. "No matter what you read of humans, EOS, remember that where there is bad there is also good. Unfortunately it's often the bad we hear about while the good remain unnoticed, but that doesn't lessen their value or importance."
I squeezed his knee affectionately, just because I could and it's funny to watch him jump sometimes. His hand landed on top of mine to prevent me doing it again but I knew he didn't mind really.
"The pilgrims farmed well all summer and when the autumn cape and they had harvested their crops they decided that a feast was in order to celebrate their first year, their first harvest and their new life. They invited all their native friends to attend and they happily agreed, bringing with them deer and other foods to share. They must have enjoyed themselves because the party lasted for three days. And now we celebrate being thankful for what we have every year at thanksgiving," Grandma finished, looking pleased with herself. She obviously loved the story and had told it with a kind of familiar comfort which told me that it was once she'd heard many times before, probably from her own grandparents.
I loved those kinds of stories, the ones that bring back memories or a time past, one's that make you smile when you think of them.
"Wow, they really knew how to throw down and have a good time," Alan grinned. " Do we get a three day party?"
"I wish we did, but no, " Scott chuckled, "nice try though, squirt."
"Right, now that you've all kept me busy telling you stories, I'm going to go and see if you're father is ready to go, he's taking me to the mainland for supplies for tomorrows meal." Grandma jumped up from couch with a lot more energy than I had (she was obviously invigorated by the thought of shopping) and toddled off to hunt down Jeff.
"John?" EOS asked quietly.
"Yes, EOS?"
"I don't understand Grandma's story."
"What didn't you understand, baby girl?" I asked her, butting in because I was bored quite honestly.
"I have checked the facts of the story and found that it is not historically accurate."
"What isn't?" Alan asked.
"It appears that, while the meal did indeed happen, it was not called the first thanksgiving until later and that it was actually an American president, Abraham Lincoln, who heard about the meal from a diary of the time and used it as a moral booster during the Civil War."
"Oh, well that's not as nice," Gordon admitted.
"My research also tells me that the pilgrims and the native Americans did not stay friends for long, indeed there were many nasty things done to them culminating in the decimation of their culture. Therefore I do not understand why such a thing is celebrated."
"Unfortunately, that's the English for you," I sighed. "For a small country we've done a lot of harm, we've invaded a lot of countries and taken over thinking that our ways were better, when really the best way was that of the native people. It's one of the things about being English I'm not proud of."
"It's not always that simple," John started, adopting that patiently explaining tone of his. It wasn't that 'I'm talking to an idiot' one that some men end up doing, but one that showed he was willing to listen and engage in an actual conversation. And people wonder why I love him so much.
"Why not? History cannot be ignored," EOS insisted.
"In this instance, it's not about history being ignored, but the spirit of the holiday changing over time. In the case of Thanksgiving its more about taking time out of your lives to stop and think about why you are thankful, to think about what you have and what your are grateful to have. You spend time with your family and friends and share stories and time. As with many things in life its a nasty part of history that something positive has come out of."
"Like how a lot of people don't celebrate Christmas as the birth of Jesus, because they aren't religious in that way, but treat it more as a time of family and a time to enjoy company, food and thoughtful gifts. So many traditions have developed over the years that can't be explained by history but are important just the same," Virgil told her. If John was the closest thing to a father to her, Virgil was definitely her ever patient uncle, he was always happy to talk to her.
"So it is not a celebration of the harvest, the meal or the actions after?"
"No, its about the spirit of the meal, the sharing of food with those for might not have any, of reflecting on the things you are thankful for and enjoying time with your loved ones," John explained.
"I do not understand the spirit, I do not recall any ghosts in the story, but I find humans to be confusing, so I shall simply observe the remainder of your rituals and see for myself," she decided, her hologram blinking out.
"Well," I sighed. "I have a feeling that tomorrow is going to be interesting."
Chapter Management
Day 23
Chapter Text
Day 23 of Isolation on Tracy Island and I found out something today…
Jeff is an amazing cook. But shhh, don't tell anyone.
I'm at that point in my cold where I'm able to breathe again (well, mostly), I've stopped sneezing and I'm only coughing when I talk too much. The boys are enjoying the quiet time while they can.
"I'm feeling a bit better," I announced to John as he was getting dressed. He paused half inside the T-shirt he was pulling on and tilted his head to look at me through the neck hole. For a smart boy he can be so dumb sometimes. I got up and pulled the shirt down the rest of the way, smoothing his hair when his head popped up out through the neck hole. I couldn't help myself and stole a little kiss, just because he was there, adorable and gorgeous.
"That's good," he stole a kiss of his own in retaliation.
"And I want to stay that way," I continued, passing him his comb from the desk.
"A wise decision."
"So, I have a question."
He was concentrating on the combing of his swooshy hair so didn't look at me when he answered. "And that is?"
"What's the likelihood of me having a relapse if I eat Grandma's cooking?"
"None at all."
"Babe, I love Grandma, I do, but I beg to differ, her cooking could make a zombie throw up."
"Well, that's an image I'll never get rid of, thank you."
"You're welcome," I said, smiling sweetly.
"But in answer, you won't because Grandma doesn't cook Thanksgiving dinner, that's Dad's domain."
"It is?" Did I sound shocked? I thought so. "Jeff cooks?"
John nodded, moving aside so I could rummage in the wardrobe. I chose my warmest smart top, not that I had a lot of choice in there, John had refused to let me bring more than a third of my clothes out of fear that he'd end up sucked into Narnia while looking for a tie or something. And he calls me dramatic. The top was a soft purple jumper, quite light so I could wear a vest top under it and layer without being uncomfortable. I'm picky with my clothes, sue me.
"Yes, Dad cooks, but he doesn't do it that often, he knows Grandma likes to do most of it. As you know it makes her feel useful to look after us, it gives her something to do while we're out on rescues, something to focus on. So he never argues with her about it, except for Thanksgiving. Then it's all on him."
"So we're safe?" I pulled on my jumper and stole his comb to fix my hair again. I was feeling better, that was true, and so I'd made an effort to actually brush and semi-style my hair and I'd even pushed the boat out with a little concealer to cover up my cold induced spots, dusted on a little powder and even done something that could be called eyeshadow, but I was still a bit delicate.
"Well, in eating it you are, but Dad can get a little bossy in the kitchen, he likes things done a certain way and to his schedule."
"Then I'll be keeping out of the kitchen, I wouldn't want to get in his way."
"That will not be an option," John warned me, picking up both our phones from the bedside table where they had been charging and handing me mine. "But you might get away with light duties due to your fragile physical state."
He dodged my smack (I'll show him fragile) and dived through the door to freedom.
"Alright, troops, listen up!" Jeff yelled from the kitchen. "I want everyone down here helping and I mean everyone."
We all jumped to attention and made our way to the kitchen like good little soldiers reporting for duty.
"I've split you into pairs," Jeff said pointing to the counter. "There are your lists of tasks, all simple things, I'll be handling the cooking, you're just on prep. Any questions?"
I wasn't sure if Jeff was suddenly scary, impressive or weirdly attractive in his apron (I made a mental note to snap a picture for the fan page) so I was a little hesitant in raising my hand.
"Yes?" he asked in the same tone John has when he knows he has to answer, doesn't want to, but is trying to be polite .
"Yeah, I have a question."
"What is it?"
"What foods do you have at Thanksgiving? Like what will we be making? Because I've never done this before and I'm a little out of my depth. I'm English, we show our thanks with a box of chocolates or a bacon sandwich in the morning after a good night."
Scott snorted softly in amusement, John just grinned knowing he'd received many bacon sandwiches for just that reason.
"Oh…er...just the usual, I guess," Jeff answered, already seeming distracted as he glanced at his watch to check the time. Had I thrown his schedule off already? Oh well, too late now.
"What's the usual?" I pushed.
"Turkey," Virgil offered.
"Turkey I know."
"Mashed potatoes," Alan added.
"Cool, got that. Do you do roast ones too?"
"Roasted potatoes?"
"Yeah."
"She means those things she made with Parker two Christmases ago," John told him. "Remember she said 'you can't have a roast without roasties' and everyone got confused?"
"Oh! Those crispy potato chunk things?" Alan grinned. "I liked those, but no, we don't have them for Thanksgiving."
I just shook my head sadly, their poor turkey was going to look so sad to me without the proper accompanying potatoes, but I wasn't here to judge…who am I kidding, I totally was.
"What else do you have?"
"Corn and cornbread," Scott said.
"Green bean casserole," Gordon added.
"Oh and stuffing in the turkey, and don't forget the pie."
I tried to school my face so it was only registering confusion rather than the disgust that I was feeling. There were maybe three things in that list that sounded normal or even slightly edible to me and I was feeling a little scared.
"Get your lists, we're three minutes behind schedule now," Jeff prompted and we scrambled to grab and get going.
I had been paired up with in a threesome with Alan and Kayo, Scott had been paired with John and Virgil was with Gordon. I wondered how well this would go down but it seemed that everyone was more concerned about messing up Jeff's carefully organised plans than in being silly, so things went off without much trouble.
I was set to work on the pies which turned out to be pumpkin. I'd apparently been given this task because I can actually bake.
"Do I have to follow the recipe exactly," I side whispered to Alan but Jeff apparently had the ears of a bat and heard me from across the room.
"Yes, you do," Jeff answered.
"But this is shortcrust pastry," I argued. "Like, plain pastry."
"Yeah."
"And isn't pumpkin pie sweet? As in it's a dessert?"
"Sure is."
"Then why isn't this sweet pastry?"
There was silence. I waited.
"Because it isn't," was the answer I eventually got. I shrugged and got on with making the very boring and not complimentary pastry and lining tins with it while Alan hollowed out and chopped up some pumpkins.
Following the recipe we blitzed the pumpkin then I left Alan and Kayo to the measuring of things, as I had done with the pastry ingredients. I would never understand the weird measuring cups system they used. John was with me on this one, it was far more precise and regulated to weigh things out. Like if you were measuring something like butter, did you use the whole cup to scoop it out of the pot like ice cream? Did you pack it in? Or melt it which wouldn't work for pastry as it needs to be kept cold? Nothing made sense!
Kayo thought it would be more useful to send me to John and Scott to deal with, since I was the rogue extra and apparently my constant questions were annoying her.
I sidled over to their workstation and sat patiently on a stool to await my orders.
"You win," Scott said, shaking John's hand. "It took them less than half an hour to pass her over."
"How dare! You two are supposed to be nice to me. I'm not staying here to be insulted." I slid off the stool and went to Virgil and Gordon, them I could trust.
"What did they say?" Virgil asked when I appeared by his side.
"They were apparently betting on how long I'd survive in the Kayo camp."
"Well, you're more than welcome to hang with us," Gordon said generously. "Wanna shuck those corn cobs?"
"Ewww! Do I want to do what to the corn?" I yelped.
"Shuck, woman, shuck! Not whatever your dirty mind thought I said."
I heard a clang as Scott dropped something, too busy laughing his arse off to hold on to it properly, but I tried hard to ignore him, I was an adult after all.
"I resent that remark. I don't have a dirty mind, I have a sexy imagination."
I shot a glare at my darling husband who was now laughing with his rat of a brother. Honestly, I get zero respect in this house. ZERO.
"Just how sexy is her imagination?" Scott asked John between gasping breaths as he tried to calm down.
"Don't you dare answer that!" I yelled over, setting Scott off into fresh hysterics.
"Wouldn't dream of it," John promised but I didn't believe him. He had that wicked glint in his eye that told me he couldn't be trusted, just like the rest of them (even Alan was sniggering to himself).
I looked at Virgil, who had his lips pressed together so tightly they had ceased to exist in an effort not to laugh.
"Five out of ten for effort," I told him.
"Thanks," he said, clearing his throat.
I tried to be sensible, I really did, because Jeff was looking over like he was debating where to hide our bodies and I didn't want to test him.
"So how do I do this corn?"
More sniggers. I swear they are like five year olds that heard the word poop.
"You sh- uh, you peel them so that we can grill or boil it," Virgil answered.
"Just peel them? Like a banana?"
"Kinda, you have to really grip them tight and…hang on I'll show you." He picked up some corn.
"So you grab a corn stick."
"The ear."
"Fine, grab its ear, whatever."
"No, it's called an ear of corn," Gordon laughed.
I ignored him.
"Pull off the outer leaves," he stripped off the green leaves with practiced ease. "Until you have just the one thin layer of inner leaves."
"Take it's jacket off, got it, what's next?"
"You do it too," he instructed, nodding to the pile of corn. I dutifully selected a stick, sorry, an ear, and pulled the outer leaves away.
"Next you peel back the leaves just enough to see the top few rows of kernels, think of it like a zipper on a sleeping back, or like you said, as a banana." He showed me what he meant and I followed. I like learning from Virgil, he is a big believer in learning by doing, but he'll always give you examples of what he means and show you how to do it.
"So you strip it like it's friday night?"
More laughter and a glare at Scott later and I turned back to Virgil and his instructions.
"See this bit that looks like a tassel?" He pointed and I nodded. "Grab it and yank down firmly in one smooth move. Sharp and firm, okay?" He grasped the tassel and yanked down quickly and easily, the leaf coming away with it. Perfect.
"Now you try."
I gave it a go but didn't quite have the same knack as he did.
"You'll get there, you're just a bit too slow and delicate," he paused for a second to think. "Try thinking of it like a wax strip when you do your legs, hard and fast."
Now that made sense to me. I held the tasseled end and gave it a quick, hard tug straight down but at an angle. It peeled down in one easy motion.
"There, that's it, you got it," he praised, quickly doing the rest of his ear. "Now just make sure all these little silky thread bits are stripped off, break away the leaves and you're done."
I picked at the threads and proudly displayed my shucked ear of corn.
"Perfect," Virgil praised. "Now do the rest." I looked over at the bucket full of corn. This would take a while.
"Want to help me do these beans?" Gordon asked when I was eventually done. I reached over and poked my finger into the green beans Gordon was arranging in a very large casserole dish. They looked gross, not gonna lie.
"What are you going to do to them?" I asked dubiously, because honestly their idea of good food wasn't matching up to mine.
"We're gonna add some fried onions," Gordon said and I nodded, that seemed normal enough. "Then we're gonna pour in the soup-"
I held up a hand to cut him off. "Excuse me, soup?"
"Yeah, mushroom soup," Gordon pointed to the cans on the table beside Jeff.
The noise I made was somewhere between bubbling swamp and a cat with a hairball. Gods, I felt sick.
"Excuse me for one moment," I said as politely as I could, sliding down off my stool and scooching over to John.
"Hey," he greeted me, glancing up from the sugar he was dissolving in a big pan of water.
"Hi," I answered, nosing into his pan.
"You OK?"
"Nope, because my husband lied to me this morning," I sighed sadly, ignoring Scott who had started to chuckle again.
"I can assure you I did no such thing. I'd never lie to you," John answered, gently stirring the sugar water.
"You promised me the food would be safe, when Gordy is over there dumping mushroom soup on the veg. Tell me in what world is that a safe or good idea?"
"Ah, yeah, I might have fudged the truth a tiny bit, but honestly I forgot about green bean casserole."
"How could you forget about that frankencreation of a dish? Look at it!" I gestured to the table where Gordon was merrily pouring soup on top of the beans. "It's evil."
"You don't have to eat it," he promised. "We know you see mushrooms as poison."
"I'm really not sure about any of this," I winced.
"This is a LOT of food," I whistled when we finally sat down at the table Grandma and I had set out, some six hours later. I was hungry, and I know the boys can scoff like they haven't eaten in a year, but even this might be too much for us.
It had been decided that I would be of more use in helping Grandma and I was (nicely) banished from the kitchen, which was kinda alien for me since I was usually the one yelling at them to get out while I was cooking. How the tables had turned.
I looked at the array of dishes on offer and honestly, most of them looked rather scary, but the turkeys, both of them, looked amazing, there were four mountain sized piles of mashed potatoes in huge bowls, a shiny tray full of grilled and buttered corn cobs, the dreaded green beans, some random thing in a bowl that looked like the top of a hot chocolate, bread rolls and something that I think was the corn bread they had talked about but I wasn't sure. This was going to be interesting.
We all sat down, well, Jeff did and I did, but then there was a fight over who got to sit to my right since John claimed the left. I have no idea why I was suddenly so popular, but Alan won by sliding into the chair when Scott and Gordon were having a good natured shoving fight.
I don't know if it was for my benefit or because they aren't a particularly religious family in general, but there was no grace said before the start of the meal. Instead Jeff started and one by one we went around the table and said what we were thankful for that year. The consensus was that we were mostly thankful for being lucky enough to be together, to be safe, to have a nice roof over our heads and food in the cupboards. We, probably more than anyone, knew just how harsh the world could be. The boys had seen the worst of society, seen accidents and injuries and knew that they couldn't save everyone, but they would have a bloody good go. We'd talked a lot over the last lockdown and this one, and couldn't quite understand why people seemed to be going out of their way to endanger people by being selfish rather than helping as much as they could. In our world that wasn't even an option, being selfish was not on our radar.
When the thankful talk had finished Jeff, with much ceremony, began to slice one of the turkeys and fill the plates that were passed down like they were on a conveyor belt. You know how people would form a line to pass buckets of water to fight a fire? That was us with plates.
"Scott, you're a breast man," Jeff passed his plate back down the line heaving with succulent meat.
"That smells amazing," Scott grinned. "I can't remember the last time we had turkey."
"Probably can't remember the last time you had breast either," Gordon side whispered under his breath, receiving a clip around the back of his head.
I got breast too, Alan got a couple of legs and the others had a mixture. This was good, this was safe. I knew where I was with turkey. You can't really mess that up. I accepted a little of the stuffing but didn't eat it, I'm not a fan but didn't want to be seen as awkward, no more than usual anyway.
The side dishes were passed around too, I took potatoes because that's the law, a corn cob, a bread roll and some gravy. I was playing it safe.
"Are you not even going to try the rest?" Alan asked me.
"I refuse to touch that mushroomy evil."
"What about the yams?" he pushed the bowl with the hot chocolate topped thing towards me. It looked a bit like the savoury souffle I'd had once, that had been a soft, cheesy delight. This had to be something similar.
"Yams are sweet potatoes, right?"
Alan nodded. Cheesy souffle topped sweet potato actually sounded pretty good.
"Okay," I agreed, allowing him to dish me up a spoonful and plonk it on my plate.
Everyone stopped eating to watch me, which should have been my first clue that something was amiss. Alas, I trusted the baby too much.
"Urghhh! OH MY GODS! What the hell is that? What's wrong with it?" I spluttered, only just managing to swallow the mouthful I had because it wasn't polite to spit food into your napkin at the dinner table.
"There's nothing wrong with it," Jeff said, sounding slightly insulted.
"Why is it sweet?" I gasped, turning to glare at the one who had betrayed my trust…
There he was, phone up, filming my reaction. The snot. "English woman's reaction to american food," he grinned, waving it in my face.
"How dare!" I swiped at him but he dodged my hand, laughing so hard he almost fell off his chair. I shall never trust that boy again, hell I won't trust any of them again. Now I know why they had all wanted to sit next to me.
I steered clear of anything I didn't know after that, I wasn't even going to risk the cornbread but John insisted I tried it, dipped in the gravy. It wasn't as bad as I had anticipated but I'd had to really psyche myself up to even try it.
Everything else was delicious, Jeff had apparently used cream and butter in the potatoes, something I'd never done as it felt way too indulgent, but he went there, and he went there well.
Unlike the only comparison that I had, which was Christmas dinner, no one wandered off between courses. In my house growing up everyone would leave the table and collapse on the couches for a few hours to watch TV and burp out some room before they built up an appetite for dessert, but not here. Here we stayed seated, although all the dishes were pushed into the center of the table, and we talked. We talked a lot. We talked between bites, we talked between first helpings and seconds, we chatted after we'd finished eating and settled back in our chairs with drinks, although their version of apple cider was not what I was expecting.
We spent more than two hours sitting at the table, talking about anything and everything. I mostly stayed quiet, not just because I was starting to feel quite tired and the more I talked the more I coughed, but because it was nice to listen to them all. I didn't really have much to contribute to the reminiscing of thanksgivings past but as always I didn't feel excluded.
"Time to clear the table," Grandma announced, and even though we were feeling quite stuffed and lazy we all grabbed plates and serving dishes and trooped to the kitchen. That was one advantage to having such a big family, clean up took hardly any time. We split into teams, some of us transferring the leftovers to put in the fridge, others loading the dishwashers and the rest gathering the pies and coffee pots to take back with us to the dining room.
Pie, now that isn't usually a bad thing for me, I do love me some apple pie and will happily sit with Scott and indulge, although I've learnt that you can't just take a slice and expect there to be any left if you want more. Won't happen. Nope, you have to grab a fork and dig into the pan as he held it or he'd eat the lot before you even realised it was gone. We've eaten cherry pie, banoffee, apple and blackberry, mince pies, we have a wide taste range. But I'd never had pumpkin pie, I didn't even like a pumpkin spice latte. This wasn't going to go well, they didn't even have any custard to help it go down easier. Who doesn't have custard with pie? Crazy people, that's who. Even Scott likes custard now. I've trained him well.
"We have pecan pie too," Jeff offered but Scott answered for me.
"She has a rule, apparently nuts should be salty."
I swear, the amount of sniggering I'd heard from these idiots today…
"I don't like sweet nuts, no nuts in cakes or desserts or sweet things of any kind," I elaborated, "I don't do nuts in chocolate either."
"Won't you even try the pumpkin?" Gordon asked.
They all looked at me expectantly. I gave in gracefully and opened my mouth for the bite that Scott offered me.
"Foul," I declared firmly. "No thank you."
"Well you have to have something," Grandma insisted.
"I'm fine," I said, smiling reassuringly. "I'm more than happy with a cup of coffee." I took a sip to prove my point.
"Don't worry, Grandma, I got this," John said, putting down his spoon and heading back to the kitchen.
"What's he doing?" Virgil asked. I shrugged. I had no clue,
He was back a minute later and, with much ceremony, he carefully placed a small glass bowl in front of me.
"Oh my gods, my hero," I sighed happily. Was there ever a more magical sight than a tiny, perfectly formed chocolate cheesecake? The english kind, with a crushed biscuit (cookie) base, creamy cheese filling and a layer of chocolate sauce and whipped cream on top. Perfection in a bowl. "You are amazing."
"Thank you."
"I was talking to the cake," I lied, giving him a sweetly innocent smile. He narrowed his eyes playfully but he knows me too well to take it seriously. "Where did you dig this up from?"
"It was left in the freezer from that movie night we had a few months ago. I know your taste in desserts so I thought it would be wise to let it defrost in the fridge in case you needed it."
"And you said I failed to raise him as a gentleman," Jeff chuckled.
"I have revised my opinion," I assured him, digging my fork into the gooey deliciousness.
"Come on, love," John said softly, shrugging his shoulder to gently jiggle my head that was resting against it. "You don't want to sleep there, my shoulder is hard and boney."
"No it's not," I argued, not moving or opening my eyes, even though he was right. I was so tired, my cold (always worse in the evenings) was catching up with me and demanding that I atone for the energy I had used up today by sleeping immediately.
"Yes it is," he jiggled again. "Let's go."
I sighed but did as I was told although sitting up was an effort. I allowed John to haul me to my feet and propel me towards the bedroom.
Now that I was thinking about it I was feeling tired, it was like acknowledging it had rushed in to sweep me off my feet and not in a good way.
I collapsed face down on the bed without getting undressed, that was far too much effort. I dozed off again to the sound of John laughing as he tugged off my shoes.