A/N: A little light reading for a cold Sunday afternoon which I hope you'll enjoy …if only to take your minds off the miseries that are going on out there for a few minutes. Thank you to everyone who is still following life at the Barn for your lovely kind comments and for taking the trouble to review for me, I really appreciate it and as usual my special thanks to Flossy.

She'd thought that he'd like it if she went out and gave him a big hug, stupid really, but when she'd been standing out of sight watching and listening to him with the kids in the kitchen it had bought back a whole load of memories of old times when she'd look at him and long to put her arms round him. Had wanted to hug him and feel him hug her back ever since she'd woken up on her own in a cold empty bed. And she'd loved him being all Captain Bossman with Millie and even that hadn't done anything to put a dent in her lusting after him. Instead, she'd really enjoyed being a spectator as the little madam did everything she could think of to try and push his buttons and he'd calmly refused to be pushed.

But now, instead of being ecstatic to see her, he'd spun round and jumped about a mile out of his bloody skin as soon as she touched him, apparently far too busy with trying to work out what bit of wood went where out of the jigsaw puzzle of bits on the garage floor to even notice she'd come in. He simply hadn't heard her and she could see from the progress he'd made, or rather the lack, that the whole hen house thing wasn't going that well.

"FUCK … what the …?"

"Sorry … didn't mean to make you jump … you alright?"

"Indeed …" He took the kind of deep breath that told her he was anything but alright "Wonderful … my idea of a perfect Sunday morning … and you're just bloody lucky I didn't have a saw in my hand … don't ever creep up on me like that again …"

"I never … I didn't creep, I didn't know you couldn't 'ear me, did I?"

She did know. She hadn't exactly been tip-toeing, but it wouldn't have been much of a surprise if he'd heard her coming and surprising him had been the whole idea. Now she was more wondering whether to flounce off in a huff instead. It wasn't her fault, was it? How was she supposed to know he wouldn't think it was a good idea for her to come and see how he was getting on, for her to be all nice and show some interest?

So far today her Sunday had been total shit. She'd sorted the kids and put a load of washing on and refereed the tedious bickering by yelling at all of them and had done her best to chip the bloody Weetabix off of everything including getting it out of Livvie's hair. Livvie loved having a bath but hated getting water on her head which meant washing her hair was a bloody nightmare at the best of times without having to get rid of stuff that had set like concrete.

Chloe was supposedly doing homework, or that's what she told Molly, something that meant she had to look things up on her dad's tablet if she was going to do it properly, something Molly wasn't totally convinced about. The other two were watching some brain rotting rubbish on Disney for once in a reasonable degree of harmony now that Millie had given over with her "I'm cruelly mistreated and totally misunderstood" act. As soon as she'd spotted Molly she'd forgotten all about how mean and horrible her dad was and had flung her arms round her, head butting her in the stomach in an exceptionally rare demonstration of sheer delight at seeing her mum. It was as if she hadn't clapped eyes on her for at least a year, and it had bought a tired prickle to the back of Molly's eyes, but even as she ruffled her curls Millie had gone back to working very hard on winding Charles up although it did appear her heart was no longer in it. And she had seemed to have forgotten all about expecting Molly to come home bearing gifts, which was just as well because Molly had forgotten all about buying any, she'd had other things on her mind.

As soon as everything and everyone was settled, the idea of going out to see how he was getting on had seemed like a good one to Molly. But not now it didn't. If she'd known he was going to be all ratty and shitty with her she definitely wouldn't have bothered, would have made herself a nice cuppa instead and then sat down and done something else. Okay, she wasn't quite sure what exactly, read a book or something, it was just that she wouldn't have gone outside to see him. Ungrateful pig.

"Alright no need for you to get all arsey … I just thought it'd be nice to see how you was getting on, that's all … oh … 'n see if you wanted a coffee" The last bit wasn't strictly true, the thought had only just occurred to her.

"I'm not being arsey …" Charles knew he was and that he was taking out his tired frustrations on her, but everything seemed to be far more complicated than he'd thought it was going to be and was taking three times longer. He was paying the penalty for not having had enough sleep and for getting up at sparrow's fart for the kids, and despite already having swallowed several gallons of black coffee it hadn't done anything to remove the several million layers of cotton wool that were still wrapping his brain. It was proof, if he needed it, of just how thoroughly out of practice he was at being a fully functioning soldier when he was basically bloody knackered. And on top of that, the 'You Tube' video he'd downloaded to his phone was a set of instructions that might as well have been in the original Chinese for all the help they were. No doubt it was all as plain as the nose on your bloody face to anyone who had even a tiny bit of knowledge, a slight idea of what the fuck they were supposed to be doing, but it was incomprehensible to a clueless beginner like himself. Especially one as tired as he was. And as Molly would say, it was proving a whole different ball bag to his previous experiences that had been wholly confined to assembling flat pack bookcases from IKEA. For a start there were no diagrams to follow.

"Nope … no more coffee thanks … and If you've come out here to give me the benefit of some of your no doubt excellent advice … please feel free … otherwise piss off Dawsey"

"Yes Boss … no Boss, anything you say Boss … " Molly pretended to curtsey "Where would you like me to piss off to Boss? Just gotta say … 'n I'll do me best"

"Sorry …" He ran his hand over the back of his neck, and tugged at his curls.

"Yeah … should bloody think so … not my fault you're 'aving a problem is it?"

"No of course it's not, sorry … and it's not exactly problem … whose fucking bright idea was this anyway?"

"Yours … and I can see … what is it if it's not a problem? And your language 'as gone off a bit 'asn't it? Just don't blame me … you was the one said he didn't see how it could be that 'ard" Molly rolled her eyes "You was the one said we didn't need to pay out a shed-load of money to get a …"

"Yep alright, okay, you've made your point …" He spoke across her without allowing her to finish her sentence, he'd got no wish to hear his own words repeated back to him. He knew exactly what he'd said and that it hadn't been one of his better decisions "Are you sure that was me and not you?"

"Yeah l bloody am … And I would help, you know that, you only had to ask, but I don't know anything about it neither … so who DO we know that knows about this sort of stuff?"

"That won't be necessary … I told you, I'll manage … and anyway if I did ask my dad that'd mean mum as well…"

"Oh yeah … okay … well … in that case …" Oh shit, a nice big dose of the old hag crawling up his arse was all she needed, this was not exactly how she'd seen her day panning out. On the other hand, needs must and if she was forced to put up with the old bitch to get the bloody thing done and sorted, then she would. If she had to. "Whatever … but we can't ask mine, he won't know … and anyway, he'd be a bleeding disaster"

"Like me, you mean?"

"Nah … you're good at … all sorts of things …" Molly swallowed a giggle as he gave her a sideways look "'ere … look … I think we should ask yours if that's what you think's best … just not mine … he won't know and it don't matter the bloody chickens are not even 'ere yet, won't stop him working out how to make a profit out them … that's if he don't liberate them nice new drills you bought …"

"Alright … don 't rub it in, I know..." He snorted "It would have been a bloody sight cheaper to buy the fucking Rolls Royce of a chicken shed from Amazon …"

"Not rubbin' it in … 'n it wouldn't, not really …I mean you gotta try 'aven't you? And they might come in 'andy for … I dunno … all sorts?"

Molly was still doing her best to sound encouraging and supportive but only succeeded in sounding as if she was about to fall about laughing, which she was. The funny side of the whole thing had begun to dawn on her, how the fuckety fuck had she ever imagined it would be a go-er for them to take on re-building a falling down house in France when they couldn't even put a little shed for some chickens together? Although somehow she didn't think Charles was ready to share the finny side just yet.

"Right, okay … let's see … do we 'ave to put the bottom bit on first and go from there?" Molly snorted, she was trying her best not to give into the urge to giggle when she was equally sure he wouldn't think there was anything funny "Okay, yeah, silly question, course we do, I can see that, we gotta put the legs on 'aven't we? It's gotta stand up … 'ere, is this bit the bottom bit, do you reckon?"

"Indeed… probably … it looks right, and I've got no idea what you're laughing at Dawsey, there's nothing funny about any of this" Molly could tell from his voice that he was struggling not to join in and laugh with her and if he did, she'd be finished "I just hope these fucking chickens are not expecting some luxury house built by proper builders when they're getting something slung up by Tweedledum and Tweedledee"

"We're rescuing them aren't we? Should just be 'appy with what they get … 'ere … who you calling dumb?"

"No-one … that's me" He finally gave in and threw his head and roared with laughter which made her give in and laugh with him.

"Come on then Tweedledum, what do you reckon this bit's for?"

"I've got no fucking idea …"

"Oh well .. Maybe just leave it there for later then …" Molly put the piece of wood down on the floor behind her and proceeded to ignore it as she made a determined effort to sound as if she was being sensible. She was desperately trying not to laugh, much more and she was afraid she was going to wet herself.

Working as a team, as or Charles put it, the blind leading the fucking blind, it proved to be a surprisingly quick and easy job to construct a flimsy looking shed-like structure. Admittedly it was slightly rough and ready to look at, and might possibly be a tiny bit fragile, as though a good sharp shove would separate it from its legs, but it had everything it needed. There was a neat little ladder for the chickens to get in through the door which Molly was a little worried was like a guillotine. She was horribly afraid it would decapitate them if they weren't very careful, but the inside of the house seemed to her to be somewhat of a triumph. There were these little nesting boxes which Charles said were for laying their eggs, if they ever got any, and there were these broom handle poles fixed across the space for them to perch on. All in all, she couldn't help feeling it was a real achievement. Okay, it might not be very beautiful but she was happy that between the two of them they'd managed to somehow cobble together a wooden shed with a run covered with wire to make sure nothing got in to eat the bloody things which was the whole idea. The only problem was the surprisingly large and somewhat worrying number of bits still on the garage floor in the "no idea so let's just ignore them" pile. But once Charles had used his new hammer drill to put holes in the garage wall and had bolted the support things in place it did look like a chicken coop of sorts. Almost.

"Lovely … okay … well … not bad … considering" He amended his opinion as he stood back to take a good look at it with his head on one side. It was never going to have a starring role in Grand Designs but at least it didn't collapse when he tentatively put his hand on it and gave it a gentle shove.

"Come on. let's crack on and stick the roof on and … I don't know, call it a day?" He slung his arm round her shoulders as they stood together admiring their handiwork and she slid her arm round his waist "Well done, Dawsey"

"Ta … it weren't me though was it? I didn't do much … hardly anything really, it was you did most of it"

"Lovely …is that so you can say it was my fault when the fucking thing falls down?"

"Yeah …"

"Thought so"

-OG-

"Hurry up … it's cold … 'n come on Markie we're all freezing 'ere, and I said four … no more … okay?"

Molly had been standing with Fi watching and trying not to shudder at the way the manky looking chickens were all crowding round Marcus' feet. He and his little mate were doing some sort of complicated selection process of the four lucky chickens that were coming home with them. The boys had chucked a whole load of grain on the ground and they'd all come rushing over from everywhere which had made Molly want to run in the opposite direction. And somehow, she wasn't quite sure how, adopting two chickens had become four. Four bloody alien looking things that were getting a bit prickly now their feathers were starting to grow back, four that she was going to have to pick up and dust with this special anti-something or other powder that Fi had spent a lot of time explaining when she'd given Molly a small polythene bag of it to use while she ordered some. Apparently she could get it on Amazon which would please Charles because there'd be no vet's bills and getting it on-line meant she'd avoid getting suckered into buying all sorts of other chickeny stuff. Fi reckoned all they needed to start laying eggs was to be fed good feed and lots of bits of vegetables and for them to have lots of fresh air. Well, that was according to Fi of course, time would tell, but at least it seemed she wasn't going to have to give them a bath.

"When will we get some eggs Mummy?"

"Dunno …well, don't s'pect it'll be very long, probably when they're all settled in … and when their feathers are all grown back"

"Why do they need feavers to lay eggs?"

"Well, nah they don't … I don't think so anyway … but them getting their feathers back means they're feeling better … happier … proba'ly be a lot quicker if you stop scaring 'em, Millie"

"I'm not scaring them … I'm just looking"

Millie's idea of just looking was to loom against the wire run with her face practically glued to the chicken wire. Molly was still not convinced that the current bald state of the chickens was a temporary situation, and still couldn't help thinking that Fi had seen them coming. That she'd palmed them off on her, although admittedly there had been what looked like hundreds of the bloody things running round Fi's garden looking like an alien invasion so a few less wasn't going to make a huge dent. Molly had intended to get them home and then let them out of the carriers straight into the run on the side of the hen house, and then she was going to retreat into the house for a cuppa and leave them to it. Mainly because she had no clue where to even start. She still hadn't managed to make herself pick one up, but had simply watched admiringly as the two boys had picked them up and sorted them out into the cardboard carriers that Fi had loaned her. She'd been so bloody busy being impressed and telling Marcus what a good job he was doing that she hadn't noticed that four chickens had somehow become five. There were now five of the sodding bald things pecking away inside the run as she stood holding Livvie and hoping against hope that the hen house wasn't going to fall down. Comparing it to the elaborate one at Fi's had, with hindsight, probably been a bit of a mistake.

"Mummy, I'm trying to see if I can see where the eggs come out from …"

"What?" Molly hitched Livvie higher up on her hip and jiggled her a bit, the baby was beginning to get a bit bored and whingey "Nah you can't just see … you 'ave to pick them up … tell you what Mil, ask Daddy to show you when he gets 'ome"

"It'll be dark then" Molly couldn't fault Millie's logic even when it was an unpalatable truth "Why can't we pick them up and have a look, I want to see now … is it from where they poo?"

"Nah … well not exactly … tell you what, we can Google it or something, see if there's something on the computer … we can look and see if we can find some pictures … come on lets go and see .."

"No .;.. I want to see properly … why can't we look? Chloe said that when we eat the eggs we're eating their babies…"

"Did she?" Molly made a silent vow to kill Chloe and her big mouth, she only had a very sketchy idea of a chicken's anatomy, and hadn't got a scooby about their sex life, apart from having a very vague idea that you needed to have a cockerel if you were going to get fertilised eggs. How it all actually happened was beyond her. If they'd done anything about it at school, which she doubted somehow because she couldn't see there'd be much call for it in east Ham, it must have been on a day when she'd wagged and gone down the arcade to drink cider and smoke illicit fags.

"Well, nah, that's not it, to get baby chickens you need a mummy and a daddy, well you know that, and we haven't got any daddy chickens, 'ave we? So these eggs won't be like those ones where you get babies from … these will be different"

Molly crossed her fingers that Millie would just accept what she was saying, would take her garbled half-cocked explanations and wouldn't keep on asking questions she was hard put to answer. How the fuck was she supposed to know any of this stuff?

"I don't want to eat the eggs if they're their babies" Millie stopped talking and stopping pressing her face to the wire and looked at Molly, her eyes were very wide with anxiety "Or if they've got poo on them …"

"Nah, neither do I … but that's not going to 'appen, our eggs won't have babies in them … nor poo …" She actually didn't know how much shit would be on the eggs but made a mental note to make sure they were clean before Millie saw them, even if they had to wash them. At least until Millie wasn't quite as bothered about where they came from "Ours'll be like the ones we get from Tescos … they'll just be really nice eggs …"

Oh fuck, now she sounded like some incredibly naff tele advert person telling the world that her happy chickens laid happy eggs or some such bollocks.

"Come on, let's go and find Marcus … he needs to put their tea in their little house and get them to go inside and then shut them in and tuck them up before it gets late …"

Molly was desperate to change the subject and was beginning to feel decidedly cold as well as heartily sick of standing there watching bloody chickens pecking at the ground. But even though it seemed like they weren't even the tiniest bit bothered about where they were, she'd been dead worried that they might start wanting to get out and that soft-hearted Marcus would feel sorry for them and let them. If they started straying off she'd have no idea of what to do. All she could do was yell at them and she wasn't sure that would work, but if anyone thought for one single second she was going to pick one of them up or put them to bed or make them a hot drink and kiss them goodnight or whatever, they could bloody well think again. It was bad enough she was going to have to make herself pick them up one by one and dust them with the powder stuff in the morning. Unless of course, she could get Charles to do it which was definitely worth a try. She couldn't in all conscience tell Marcus he had to do it, he was a little bit young and anyway he'd be heartbroken if it didn't work or if they struggled and escaped.

Marcus had carefully spread a thick layer of straw on the floor of the house and was busy collecting another armful from the bale that Charles had put in the garage as Millie went racing off to gleefully shout that Molly had said he had to put them away. Right that very minute. Just for once she was the one passing on her mum's orders and was self-importantly enjoying making the most of it.

-OG-

"Nah … you're gonna finish eating your tea that Sam cooked for you and then you're gonna do your homework, you could do with some practice in counting …" Molly was trying to give him her sternest 'don't mess with me you little bugger' stare as he immediately began arguing saying it had been just a mistake that there were five of them, that it wasn't an on purpose and that he really did have to go out and make sure they were okay. And he needed to tell them what their names were and that anyway Sam wanted to see them, which made Sam snigger.

"Daddy will be back soon and you can go out then and show him and Sam at the same time … listen to me sunshine, don't make me sorry I said you could 'ave 'em"

"What are their names Markie?" On the face of it Sam was asking an innocuous enough question, but Molly had the distinct impression that he was struggling with an urge to laugh.

"Marge and Flossy" Marcus gave up any pretence that he was eating his tea "And then there's Pam'la and Penny and … Joseph"

"Joseph? I thought they were girls …" Sam was really struggling hard not to laugh "Penny named after Gran is she … and what about Marge? Is that Nan?" He was snorting with the effort of not laughing out loud "And how can you tell which one is which?"

"Joseph is a boy name and Mummy said we hadn't got any boy ones … and she said that when Daddy comes home I can ask him to show me their bums …"

"MILLIE … that's not exactly ..." Molly saw the look on Sam's face as he muttered something under his breath and tried hard to glare a warning at him as he tilted his head away. It was obvious he was now seriously struggling not to laugh.

"Stop it Sam …"

"Not doing anything … " He tried not very successfully to paste his best innocent look on his face before he sniggered "Please Mol, can I be the one to tell him he's got to check out their bums?"

-OG-

She knew she was over-thinking things but ever since they'd had their chat about his job she'd been a bit on pins every evening waiting for him to come home. Not that there was much she could do about it if he was going off somewhere, throwing any sort of hissy was out the question, but it was just that she wasn't sure how she was going to feel when it actually happened. And that was one thing that was for sure, it was going to happen, it was just a matter of time and it was one thing pretending she was okay with it and not bothered, it was quite another meaning it.

But there wasn't time to check his expression for that "Oh shit" look on his face when he came in, he was hardly even through the door when the kids were all over him. They were all talking at once and that included Chloe who was still giving her the evils, she was still in a sulky huff from the ticking off she'd got for all the stuff she'd filled Millie's head with about eating babies. Sam, on the other hand, was biding his time with a look of total glee plastered on his face as he waited patiently for his opportunity to be heard.

"Dad?"

"Yup?"

-OG