Hey! RoxyGoth here, twp updates within 24 hours, I am on a roll! So first up thank you to Steampunk Wilson and SpongeGuy for reviewing the last chapter, it means a lot.

Secondly, if you havn't read chapter 4 yet I suggest you go back and do so otherwise you might be a bit like 'What's happened?' during this chapter.

So, with that said, see chapter 1 for the disclaimer and let's crack on with chapter 5.

22/09/2019

So I thought I woke up really early today, until I looked over at the digital clock Scrooge managed to dig out of the back of beyond somewhere and saw it was actually 11:07 AM.

And that just set the day off nicely because Beakley has made it abundantly clear that she serves breakfast between 8-10 every day. No earlier, no later under any circumstances, up to, and including, death

So I was sulking in the lounge downstairs, still smarming over that bloody stupid women yesterday when Beakley came in with the hoover and put it down next to me before asking, politely. "Do you mind if I hoover in here, Miss Della?"

"Knock yourself out." I said, waving a hand.

She scrunched her beak up and I realised I came across as rude but honest to god I couldn't care less at that point, as I was beyond freakin' hungry.

So she stuck the hoover on and there was silence, well. Not complete silence, obviously, cos – the hoover, but you know what I mean. We didn't talk for ages, until she turned said hoover off and said.

"Webbigail told me about your little outburst yesterday."

My hand tightened around the remote and I consider lobbing it at her head, but I [mercifully] didn't, I just resolved to steadily ignore her and hope the message got across.

However, then she carried on with: "I appreciate you're new to this, Della, but you really can't go around making that kind of scene if front of the children. It's not appropriate."

At which I burst out laughing. And when I say 'burst out laughing' I don't just mean a little laugh, maybe followed by a coughing fit afterwards, I mean proper, full on belly-laughter 'Oh My God – this is hysterical' kind of laughter. Kinda like The Joker, you know?

And Beakley just watched me. Just stood there and watched me as I did my best Ed impression.

I laughed so loud Scrooge actually came down from his office, clearly concerned that laughing gas had been pumped into the manor or something, he stood at the door and looked at me – probably in complete disgust – and I heard him say to Beakley. "Is she a'right, Beakley?"

By this point my laughter was subsiding and I was becoming aware of my surroundings again.

From somewhere in the distance I heard Auntie Beakley say. "She'll be alright. I'll have a word with her, Mr McDuck."

So he left and I was left alone with the duck version of Mary Poppins, who after a couple of seconds went. "Would you mind explaining to me exactly what happened, Dells?"

So I did. I'm still not sure why. Maybe it was the mix of the childhood nickname and the fact that she looked so DAMN MOTHERLY standing there, sympathetically, but I told her everything that happened yesterday and how it made me feel like everyone was judging me and how I hated that and she. Just. Listened.

And whoever said laughter was the best medicine has clearly not had someone just sit there and listen to them rant, because I would argue that is a LOT better.

And then, when I finally finished spilling my guts, she hugged me and I cried into her bosom for about…oh I don't know. Twenty minutes? It was ridiculous. I have not broken down like that since I first realised, I was going to miss my eggs hatching because of my own STUPIDITY and EGO. So eleven years, for those of you who like maths.

So I won't go into what happened next, but basically we sat down and talked for ages and she explained to me that parenting doesn't just happen overnight and that it's alright to make mistakes – indeed it's normal – and she's pleased [actually pleased!] that I'm doing my best to take the reins and not leave it all to Donald. Although she did suggest I speak to him ASAP, which I assured her I plan to do LITERALLY as soon as he sets foot in the door, to which she said.

"Maybe let him unpack first."

And I laughed – genuine laughter not hyena laughter – and I hugged her and I just felt SO. MUCH. BETTER.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

So I've just had an interesting moment with Louie. Basically I went into the kitchen to get some late lunch – cos it suddenly dawned on my it was like, three O clock and I hadn't eaten anything yet – and he was there with a book, writing stuff in it.

Me: Oh, hello, sweetie. What are you doing?

Louie: [Not even looking up] Maths homework.

Me: Ah, I see.

I was pretty pleased to be honest to see that Beakley even goes to the trouble of giving them homework AND that they actually DO IT. I mean, when I was there age I never did my homework. I was too busy doing things like, hanging with friends, trying to get Donald to interact with people, helping out Fethry and Gladstone all WHILE going on adventures with Scrooge. Yeah, it was pretty hectic. And then my mum died the next year and everything went to hell, but we'll gloss over that for now…

Anyway, so I went about making my lunch while doing that thing my mother was so good at, where you try and keep an eye on your children while trying to look like you're NOT keeping an eye on them. Apparently, I need more practice, whoever because Reb – Louie dammit! – LOUIE, again without even looking up said.

"Everything alright?"

"You're doing those pretty fast." I said, stirring my coffee.

He smiled and looked the book. "Yeah, I am." He said, with a hint of pride.

"What subject is it?"

"Maths."

At which point my heart swelled because – hello? I love maths!

"Oh, really!? I love Maths!" I said, happily sitting next to him.

He gave me a sidewards look and said, in surprise. "Really?"

"Yeah! One of the few subjects I passed." I said, earning a look of suspicion from my son.

Before he could press me on that, I asked him a few questions about his homework, and he started explaining Algebra to me. To be honest, I could remember a lot of it, but it was nice to hear his genuine enthusiasm for it. I mean, don't get me wrong, he started off very hesitantly and he sounded like he'd rather be ANYWHERE but next to me, but once I made it clear I wasn't going anywhere he started to warm up - I think - and yeah. We had a lovely 45 minutes. I actually got so wrapped up in it that the coffee went cold and I had to heat it up in the microwave.

Well. I ATTEMPTED to heat it up in the microwave. Because the thing is with all these objects nowadays is that they all seem to have a reflection and a microwave is no exception. So I caught sight of myself in it and kinda froze. It's just…ugh. I can't describe it.

Anyway, I must have been starting at myself for a little while because the next thing I know the coffee's being taken out my hand by Auntie Beakley – who I assume Louie must have got at some point – and she put it in the microwave, while saying in her prim British accent. "Now, let's just put this in there shall we? How long do you think, Dells? 30 seconds? Della? Della!"

I shook myself back to reality. "Yeah…thirty seconds…great." So she pressed the button and then gave me a concerned look and guided me towards the door. "Just…go sit down in the living room, dear. I'll bring this through in a minute."

There was no one in the living room – thank god or I think I might have burst into tears – and she brought the coffee in within a matter of seconds, put the telly on and we just sat there and watched TV. It was nice. No, it wasn't nice actually, nice isn't the right word, it was DISTRACTING and distraction is definitely what I needed right then.