Odds and Sods
The ice cream truck drove up, ringing its bell loudly. The children began running to their homes to procure money. Stephanie and Katherine abandoned their game of hopscotch with Mirabelle and trotted back to their flat.
"Daddy there's a lorry outside and a man selling ice cream. May we get some, please?" Stephanie asked, her cherubic face smiling expectantly.
"Pleeeeease, Daddy?" begged Katherine.
"We haven't had dinner yet. You know how Mummy gets when you eat sweets before dinner. Hmm?" He looked at them, his lips drawn into a tight smile.
"Pleeeeease? We'll eat all our dinner, we promise!" Stephanie bargained.
"Every crumb!" Katherine added, nodding her head for effect.
"Oh, I guess one ice cream won't ruin your dinner," Stephen caved.
They skipped outside triumphantly and ran to the parked lorry.
"Eskimo bar, ice cream sandwich or vanilla crunch?" ice cream vendor asked.
Katherine pointed her little finger at the pictures on the side of the truck.
"Eenie, meenie, miney, most, catch a tiger toast. Yes, no, well, oh. My Mum said to pick the berry best one, dirty dishrag, you is not it!" she recited sing-song, "Vanilla crunch, please."
"Where did you hear such rubbish?" Stephen asked, pulling back and looking at her flabbergasted.
"Elspeth says it all the time when we play games and we hafta pick somebody," Katherine stated matter-of-factly.
He closed his eyes, shook his head, and sighed.
She held out her hand to receive her confection.
"Thank you," she smiled at the vendor.
"You're most welcome."
Stephanie looked over her choices and settled for an Eskimo bar. He handed the treat to her.
"Thank you," she said plainly.
"You're welcome."
"That'll be 50p, sir."
Stephen's hand jingled the coins in his pocket. He handed the vendor a 50p coin.
The girls raced off.
"Thank you, sir," the vendor said, dropping the coin into the till with a ka-chunk.
"Good day."
Katherine ran back to her father, "Daddy! Could Mirabelle have ice cream, too?" her little eyes pleading.
"I suppose so," he shrugged.
"Noooo, I mean could you buy her some ice cream? Pleeeeease?"
"Katherine, Daddy can't go about buying ice cream for the whole lane, Dear!"
"Not the whole lane, Daddy," she rolled her eyes and waved her arms, "Just Mirabelle. She don't have a Daddy and I told her I would share mine. So if you're gonna be her daddy, too, you hafta buy her some ice cream or that wouldn't be fair!"
The corners of his eye pricked and he swallowed the lump in his throat.
"Yes, Sweetheart, of course," he said quietly. He didn't have the heart to correct his daughter's grammar.
"What kind of ice cream would she like?" he could barely speak.
"I'll go ask," she said, happily skipping away.
"That's a good'n you got there, sir. A right good'n," the vendor remarked.
"Indeed," Stephen said, smiling proudly, watching as his daughter went to find her friend.
Coitus Interrupted
Late night passionate lovemaking. The door flew open and Stephanie ran into her parents' bedroom.
Blimey! I thought that door was locked! It's like bloody Heathrow Airport!
"Kathy had a bad dream!" Stephanie gushed.
"She's not the only one!" Stephen muttered.
Betty elbowed him sharply.
"Oof!" he grunted.
What Will She Think Of Next?
Betty was ironing one of the girls' pinafores; Stephen was enjoying his paper and a second cup of coffee when the kitchen door swung open and Stephanie entered.
"Mummy, I heard you screaming last night! What was wrong?" Stephanie inquired, her grey eyes surveying her mother.
Betty's face flushed crimson and her eyes shot open wide. She shook herself and quickly recovered.
"The next item is a lie…a lie!" Stephen murmured to himself.
"Huh? Oh, Mummy wasn't screaming, Darling!" she hesitated, choosing her words carefully, "Mummy was…laughing! Yes. She was laughing because...um…Daddy was…tickling Mummy. Yes. He was tickling her mercilessly."
Stephanie looked up at her mother rather confused. Betty resumed her ironing, a puff of steam exhaled from the iron.
Betty nodded and glowered over at Stephen, who hid behind his paper and stifled his laughter.
Stephanie's head swiveled toward her father, "Daddy! That was naughty!" she scolded.
"Yes, Daddy," Betty crooned teasingly, "That was very naughty! Well, Mummy retaliated and tickled him until he was crying out as well!"
Stephanie shrugged her shoulders and walked out of the kitchen and into the lounge.
Stephen could not contain himself any longer and burst out laughing and snorting.
"I'm glad you find this funny!" Betty glared.
"Oh, I do! The look on your face was priceless! Quick thinking, Love. Tickling, huh?" he chortled.
"We're going to have to be more quiet from here on out," Betty cautioned.
"She only heard you, so you're going to have to learn to control yourself!" he cajoled.
She threw a tea towel at him, ripping through his paper.
Girls' Day Out
Betty descended the stairs and entered the lounge with Stephanie and Katherine in tow. Stephen sat engaged in a football game.
"We're going shopping downtown for the afternoon," she announced.
"Yes. Dear," he answered, half paying attention.
"Will you be alright with us gone?"
"I'll manage…somehow," he feigned helplessness, "I'll find something to do to wile away the time until you come home."
"Daddy, I'll stay with you so you won't be lonely!" Katherine offered.
"Oh, Sweetheart!" he chirped, scooping her into his lap, "Daddy's just joking! No, you and Steffie go with Mummy and have a wonderful time."
He reached into his pocket and took out a few coins, "Here," he said, offering them to the girls, "Buy yourselves something."
Katherine showered his face with kisses, "Oh, thank you, Daddy!"
Stephanie wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed his cheeks, "Yes! Thank you, Daddy! I wish you could come with us!" she said, her eyes pleading.
"Daddy has a few things to catch up with around the house…mainly a nap!" he chuckled.
"We're going to have lunch downtown as well," Betty stated.
The girls scooted off his lap.
Stephen picked up his wallet from the coffee table, flipped it open and took out two pound notes and handed them to Betty,
"Here, my shout!"
"Thank you, Daddy!" Betty smiled warmly.
He stood up and stepped toward Betty. He pressed his lips to hers, "Have a fun time!"
They departed and he stood at the door watching them walk down the lane. When they turned the corner, he scurried out to the car and popped open the boot. Reaching in, he removed a stack of wooden boards, returned to the lounge, and set them inside. He went back out to the car and took out a hammer, a box of nails, and a small hand saw. He ascended the stairs to their bedroom.
About two hours later, his task done, Stephen entered the kitchen and put the kettle on. He opened the fridge and took out a paper-wrapped stack of sliced cheese, returned to the worktop and opened the bag of brown bread. The kettle shrieked and he took the teapot and a beaker out of the cupboard. He poured boiling water into the teapot to warm it, and then poured the water back into the kettle to reheat. Bunging two teabags into pot, he poured the boiling water over them. While the tea was steeping, he went to the fridge, took out a bottle of milk, and poured a little into the bottom of his cup. He poured the tea in and spooned in some sugar.
Having eaten his lunch and finished his tea, Stephen returned to the lounge to read his paper.
Betty and the girls returned from their afternoon of shopping, having only purchased a few hair ribbons and a box of dusting powder.
"Come here, Darling, I want to show you something," he entreated.
"'Ere, what's your game out there on the roof?" she asked suspiciously.
"Just come have a look," he invited in his Royal Signals voice, which melted her heart.
He climbed out the bedroom window onto the kitchen roof. He held his hand out to her and she skeptically grasped it. As daintily as she could, she carefully stepped out.
"How ignamonious!" she exclaimed as she lifted her leg over the window sill, "I hope I'm not showing my nether-regions to the whole common!"
"No, the trees will hide you!" he chuckled.
Her eyes widened as she saw his handiwork: two wooden deck chairs facing out onto the common. The moon shone brightly and he had set out a bottle of wine and two glasses. A small candle glowed in a jelly jar.
"Oh, you charmer!" she crooned, leaning over and kissing his cheek.
"I liked that veranda at the bed and breakfast we stayed at in Venice. So I thought I'd knock up a few deck chairs for us to sit in and enjoy the warm summer nights." His eyes locked on hers in a smoldering gaze and he lifted her chin, covering her mouth with his.
He steadied her as she made her way to the chair and sat down. Taking his own seat, he reached over and took the bottle of wine from the pail of ice. She giggled at his makeshift wine chiller and he poured them each a glass of wine.
"This is lovely. Did you have this planned all along?"
"I had the equipment in the boot of the car. I just had to wait for a window of opportunity to get to work. It was a nice warm day today and you three were gone quite a while."
"Did you get your nap?" she asked, eyebrows raised.
"Eventually."
Untitled
Betty and Stephen shared a quiet cup of coffee. The girls were snug in their beds, the kitchen had been cleaned up from dinner, Stephen's coffee was set up for the next day, and this was that part of the evening that Mummy and Daddy had to themselves.
"When do you have the talk with the girls?" Stephen asked as he embraced Betty on the settee.
"What talk?"
"The talk…you know where you tell them what it means to be a woman?"
"Not at three and four years old, Stephen!" she exclaimed, "I can't go telling them about bleeding and men putting their hands all over them. It'll scare them to death!"
"Well, now's as good a time as any to get them used to that idea!" he stated.
"Oh, you're awwwful!" she drawled, "Drink your coffee!"
Special Order
Stephen opened the front door to leave for work and was startled by the arrival of Sam the Milkman.
"Good morning, Captain Peacock!" Sam greeted as he bent over to retrieve the empty bottles from the front step.
"Good morning, Sam," Stephen answered.
"Word on the lane is congratulations are in order," Sam chimed.
"Yes, it's true!" Stephen beamed proudly.
"Are the girls excited?"
"Oh, yes! They are indeed!"
"How is Mrs. Peacock feeling these days?"
"Tired, as is to be expected."
Sam collected the milk bottles from the rack, "Tell Mrs. Peacock I appreciate her washing out the bottles. Sometimes I pick up bottles which are very mucky."
"I'll be sure to tall her. She will appreciate your noticing."
"You want your usual?" Sam asked, filling out the bill.
"The doctor has suggested that Mrs. Peacock drink more milk, so I think we'll increase our order to three pints of milk, two yogurt, and one cream, thank you."
Sam returned to the milk float and retrieved the requested items. The empty bottles clanked in the rack as he unloaded his carrier. He returned with Stephen's order and bill, "Sign here, please," handing the bill pad to Stephen.
"Thank you, Sam," Stephen replied as signed the chit and took the wire rack of bottles into the house.
"Good day, Captain Peacock."
"Good day, Sam."
