I potter around until I think I’ve done everything I need to. Left until last because there’s nothing I really need from the kitchen, I switch on the light and scream. There’s a very small mouse, possibly a dormouse, on my work surface and it appears to be eating, and enjoying, some cheese. I look over to the fridge and the door’s open. I’m normally fastidious about ensuring it’s shut, especially if I’m going away for a few days, but unless this mouse is as capable as… whatever the rat in Ratatouille was called, and able to open heavy fridge doors, then I don’t think it was him… her… it.
It takes a moment for the mouse to realise I’m there. It freezes, looks left to right without moving its head then scurries down through a gap between the cooker and work surface, so small that only something tiny like it and crumbs would be able to squeeze through. And it’s taken the cheese with it.
I go to the fridge and what little is there feels unsurprisingly warm so I bag it all up, including a bigger piece of the same cheese – I feel mean but I don’t want to encourage it, and put the bag by the front door to throw in the communal black bins. Everything in the freezer is thankfully fine, just as well as it’s packed with a variety of ready meals (mostly Weight Watchers because, although I’m careful with my weight rather than being on a diet, they’re delicious, especially the risotto), bags of different vegetables and yes, in the bottom drawer, an impressive selection of ice creams, no Halo as yet but I will get some when there’s space. To help in this endeavour, I remove one of the tubs of Häagen-Dazs Pralines and Cream and pop it in a carrier, an orange Sainsbury’s bag… possibly the one it arrived in as I remember me not resisting it being on offer there, and pop it on the front door mat, next to the note about the heating.
One final check of all the doors and windows and I’m good to go. I stare around the lounge as if I’ve forgotten something. I have enough different clothes for the rest of the month, I’ve brought in the ones bought today and have popped them in the laundry basket, none being new new so all warranting a quick wash next time I’m home for a while. Everything’s already neat and tidy, or as neat and tidy as I get. So what have I forgotten?
I do another three-sixty and shake my head. I’m definitely losing it.
Remy. That was the rat in Ratatouille. It finally comes back to me as I close my front door, heating set to off, and I shudder.
I’m not unnerved exactly by the mouse, I’ve had to deal with worse (famine, flood) living on my own, but it’s certainly put me off having cheese for a while, which is a shame because I adore the stuff. Maybe I should get back on the horse, as the saying goes, and have a cheese fest. While not as big a fan as myself, Duncan does like cheese so always has a mixed platter at his house, one of those that has smallish pieces of different types so you can ‘try them before you buy’ big versions.
Pulling a stack of local takeaway and eat-in restaurant menus from between the cutlery tray and the edge of its drawer, Duncan flicks through them as if inspecting a dodgy pack of playing cards. “We haven’t had pizza for a while…” he suggests, waving a Pizza Hut brochure.
All I can think of is the mouse but say, “Sure.”
Duncan frowns then unfrowns. “Something else?”
I’ve had so many different types of food already this month that I really don’t know what I fancy. Whatever I have it’ll probably have cheese in it if not on it: lasagne, Hunter’s chicken – it did look lovely when Izzy had it. “No, that’s absolutely fine.”
“Fine?”
“Delicious. Whatever you fancy, I’m easy.”
Duncan sniggers which sets me off and the mouse is forgotten. I’d have to eat cheese again. Okay so I wouldn’t die without it and I’m not at my flat so pizza it is.
“Speaking of which, have we got time for…?” He looks to the ceiling and while it’s the guest room above us, I know exactly what he means.
“Not if you order now. They’re notoriously quick. But if we worked up an appetite first…” Being away from home, and therefore one’s boyfriend, five days a week, certainly builds up an appetite for something.
He puts the menu on the work surface, returns the others, closes the drawer, and we head upstairs.
An hour and showers later, we return. Buddy’s sitting in the kitchen, looking up at the menu as if knowing that he’s likely to get a piece of whatever we order. In some respects, he’s not as stupid as beagles would have us believe but he goes to his water bowl, hits it with one paw, making the not-long-filled water go everywhere.
“Buddy!” Duncan shouts and I grab the bowl while he fetches a tea towel, there being too much water for the usual dishcloth or paper towels. The dog looks up at me, as if butter wouldn’t melt. I think I detect a slight grin. “What did you do that for?” Duncan asks as he wipes up.
“It’s past his dinner time.”
At the word dinner, Buddy tilts his head to one side.
“So why didn’t he tap his food bowl? The water one’s bigger. It’s not like he can’t tell the difference.”
Being a vet, Duncan should know how clever dogs are or not but I don’t say anything.
Duncan orders a medium meat feast pizza with extra pineapple, and we’ve only just finished talking about our respective days, while feeding the dog and setting the table, when the doorbell goes.
I go to grab my purse from my bag sitting on one of the kitchen table chairs but Duncan raises a hand. “Don’t worry. I’ve got it.”
“Ah, thanks.” He’s such a doll.
“Ooh, hello,” I hear from the front door.
I’m intrigued but know that Duncan would call me through if I were needed. Please call me… please call me.
The front door shuts and Duncan comes through, putting the pizza box on the work surface.
“Someone you knew?” I asked, hoping that I’ve asked the most obvious question.
“One of my customers. Her son has a mouse.”
Don’t we all. Mmm. “A poorly mouse?”
“Was, yes.”
“That’s good.”
“Not really. I couldn’t save it.”
The image of Duncan doing mouth-to-mouth on a rodent pops into my head, in fact on the mouse I saw earlier. I shudder.
“Want me to turn the heating up? It has turned a bit chilly. It might not actually be on yet.”
I hadn’t thought about it but now he’s mentioned it… “Please. Just for a while.”
Duncan gives me a hug, rubs my back, which feels reeeeally good, then goes to sort out the heating while I bring the pizza and warmed plates to the table.
I’m seated with a slice on each of our plates when he returns. Buddy’s sitting but looking up at me almost drooling. Him, not me, although the pizza does smell divine. Duncan and I add salad to our plates, together with some requisite garlic bread which adds nicely to the overall aroma.
“Yum,” Duncan says and Buddy licks his lips. I look at the dog then at Duncan. I say nothing but Duncan gets the hint. “Bed… now.”
“Okay,” I say and move my chair back. Duncan howls with laughter which makes Buddy howl and I get a fit of the giggles which gives me hiccups. Oops.
I know I thought this recently but I really couldn’t be any happier, and apart from cementing our relationship, I don’t want anything to change.
Chapter 76 – Beyond Superman Status
Sunday 20th May
We both ate too much last night and are lying in bed, or rather on the bed, the duvet having been kicked onto the floor because we forgot to switch off the heating, which we did as soon as we realised.
“I’m stuffed,” Duncan says, pushing out his naturally relatively flat stomach.
I do and say the same which makes him laugh. He rubs my ‘bump’ and I want to cry, wishing it weren’t just food inside it. That said, we have an uncomplicated life as it is now; we can go out when we want without the thought of taking half the house with us or finding someone we can trust to look after mini Donna, even minier than the real Donna, or
mini Duncan. Donnetta or Duncanette… Duncette. “Wasn’t there a medieval torture implement called the Dunkette?” I ask randomly, knowing he wouldn’t know where that thought had come from.
“I don’t know. It sounds feasible.”
“I’ll google it.” This is exactly what lazy Sundays are for; googling things you don’t actually have to know and would probably never come up in a quiz. “It’s a character in Warcraft…”
“Right. Never played it but good to know.”
“A TripAdvisor reviewer, a hashtag and member of Twitter… are Twitter profiles members? I suppose they are.”
“Uh huh.” I think I’ve lost him as he seems to be peering at his navel. “Go on…” Okay, maybe not.
“Some kind of thoroughbred pedigree horse. Aren’t thoroughbred and pedigree the same thing?” Forgetting for a millisecond that Duncan is a vet, albeit of relatively small animals, he’s bound to know this so I hold up a hand and continue. “And a chap called Timothy on LinkedIn. Do you have a profile on LinkedIn?”
“I do,” Duncan says, still gazing at his stomach which seems flatter than earlier. “But I don’t really do anything with it. People ask to connect and if they’re animal related or local, I accept. I don’t post anything on it, although I do click on the ‘new posts’ button thing on the app to get rid of the number that appears every few days.
I do the same with most of my apps, especially the ones I never use… except to open then tap random options to get rid of the number.
“Anything else?” he asks.
“Just one on the first page. I don’t really go past page one.”
“Okay…”
“Someone called Windy has some Dunkettes. Equibase so we’re back to the horses.” It’s interesting but only vaguely, especially to Duncan if he finds his navel more amusing.
“I suppose we’d better get up,” he says, finally retrieving the duvet when the room’s cooled enough.
“Why?”
“To take Buddy out, for one thing.”
“I suppose…” I can’t think of anything I’d rather do than be cosy in bed, however nice it is outside. I look over at the clock. “Half nine.”
“You’ve done well to hold it in, mate,” Duncan says to Buddy who wags his tail. I’m surprised he didn’t hear his name, immediately followed by the word ‘out’, and go nuts but as I’ve said before, not the sharpest tool. Bless him.
“Where are you going… with him…?”
“I’d only planned on round the block but if you wanted to go out out.”
At the double use of one of his favourite words, Buddy does go mildly nuts, cautious in case he misunderstood.
“Do you mind if I stay here, unless you want to go out out.”
At this, Buddy barks. “Okay, wait a minute,” Duncan orders a little too sharply and the dog looks dejected and lies down.
“It’s just that I’ve only got two chapters to go then I’m done with this book.”
Duncan looks over at my bedside table. “Elizabeth Goes Missing. Does it do what it says on the tin?”
“Sort of.” I read the back to him. “‘Meet Maud. Maud is forgetful. She makes a cup of tea and doesn’t remember to drink it. She goes to the shops and forgets why she went. Sometimes her home is unrecognizable’ with a zed so I think it’s American, ‘or her daughter Helen seems a total stranger. But there’s one thing Maud is sure of: her friend Elizabeth is missing. The note in her pocket tells her so. And no matter who tells her to stop going on about it, to leave it alone, to shut up, Maud will get to the bottom of it. Because somewhere in Maud’s damaged mind lies the answer to an unsolved seventy-year-old mystery. One everyone has forgotten about. Everyone, except Maud…’”
“Sounds a bit… what’s the name of that Guy Pearce movie I always forget?”
I laugh. “Memento?”
“That’s the one. Also sounds a bit like you lately… Sorry, my love.” He blows me a kiss.
“You’re not wrong… What was your name again, Daniel?”
He laughs. “And it’s good, the book?”
“Really good. 4.3 stars with nearly three and a half thousand reviews on Amazon. Last time I looked. Probably more on their US site.”
Duncan whistles, setting Buddy off. “But you’ve read it before.” He points at the battered cover.
“Ah, no, charity shop. A while ago. I was going to buy it for my Kindle then I spotted it for a pound buy-one-get-one-free and thought I’d treat myself. You know, sit and read rather than get Alexa to dictate it to me.”
“Good plan, Batman. What else did you get?”
“Huh?”
“For the buy-one-get-one-free. Can you remember?”
“Sadly. The second Fifty Shades book, darker or deeper, I can’t remember.”
“That bad.”
“Awful. No, that’s not fair, but not my kind of reading.”
“Done really well though, hasn’t it, for its author. A woman, presumably.”
“E.L. James. Yes, very well. Beyond well.”
“Do you still have it?” Duncan winks at me and I grin.
“Somewhere at my flat.” My flat-that-has-a-mouse flat. “Oh yes, I have a mouse at my flat. I forgot to tell you. Not that I had actually forgotten but I wasn’t sure whether to tell you.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
“Do you want me to go over and get rid of it?”
“I don’t know. I suppose so. The landlord will want to know.” For when I hand in my notice and move in here.
“Absolutely he would. He?”
I nod. “My landlord’s very sweet but lives miles away. He uses a management company who are useless and probably would either say it’s not their problem because they only deal with the flat and not the whole building or take forever. Would you mind?”
Duncan looks mortified that I would even ask, as if he’d do anything I ask. Marry me? I need to get this fixation out of my head. It’s been a year. Who marries after only… my mum.
“Shall I pop Buddy round the block, let you get dressed and we go over, get Mr or Mrs Mouse rehoused?”
Not how I had envisaged spending this particular Sunday but the thought of not having company next time I go over on my own does appeal. “Thanks, darling.”
He blows me a kiss and takes Buddy downstairs. I turn to my book. “Sorry, Elizabeth, Maud, Helen. See you later.”
With the mouse sorted (found, humanely captured, then released into a spinney at the back of my block) and Duncan catapulted to beyond Superman status, especially as he’d also fixed a wobbly picture frame – a picture of me and my beloved dad, which made me cry so I got a long and cosy Duncan hug, and fitted a blind that had been waiting weeks to be hung – who knew except Duncan that he had a whole toolkit in the back of his car, we head back to his, have a quick lasagne from the freezer; made and reheated by yours truly, for a change, with the remains of the bagged salad, but no garlic bread as we’d used the final packet last night.
We’re both quite exhausted so slob in front of the TV, although flicking through there’s nothing that grabs us.
“Elizabeth?” Duncan asks.
“Huh? No, Donna.”
Duncan smiles. “Your book.”
“Oh yes. Do you want to read?”
“I wouldn’t mind. I just fancy a bit of hush.”
“All over the world.”
“That was a song, wasn’t it?”
“Carpenters. One of my dad’s favourites, although I think they rerecorded it from someone else.” I try to sing but only get as far as the words I know.
“Very nice.” Duncan’s just being kind. I can’t sing. I can but not in tune and don’t inflict him any further.
So we have our kind of hush and head to bed.
I’d already decided, especially after Mousegate, to drive down to Hemel after rush hour tomorrow. It’ll be my last Monday morning doing this as next week is not only a bank holiday but school break so should be quie
ter. Famous last words.
Chapter 77 – Groundhog Week
Monday 21st May
My last but one week. In one way, this month seems to be flying – in another, dragging. They are feeling a little groundhoggy, just the weekdays, I’ve done something different each weekend and the next one will be my last before I go home, back to Duncan’s, for good. Izzy’s coming down here in between so definitely something to look forward to. Her and my mum adore each other – Mum adores most people who should be adored, so that’ll be fun, when she, my mum, can prise herself away from Charles, love potion number two… as The Searchers didn’t sing. One of my mum’s favourites. Ew, just the thought of my mum and Charles needing to be prised apart. Way too much information.
The A45, M1 and A414 are relatively kind to me, and I’m at work by ten. Everyone’s where they should be and it’s oh so groundhoggy with a small g. James and I swap ‘mornings’ and I’m pleased it’s all very professional.
With everyone busy, I pop to the sandwich van at lunchtime and have a lovely hoisin duck wrap, at, Val tells me, 413 calories so it could serve as one of my ‘dishes’, although not technically a dish but Nathan and I have talked about going to The Mazza, an Indian restaurant within the Marlowes Shopping Centre in town where it may be more difficult to get something that suits.
Regardless, I make a note of it and add some nutritional information courtesy of fitbit.com as well as tips for slicing the cucumber thin enough from Moon Cho of Yin & Yang Living on YouTube. As the saying goes, I learned something new today: that what I always thought of as a regular cucumber is an ‘English cucumber’. Who knew? Everyone other than me, probably. I love that she used scallions (spring onions here) to give it a kick. And the lime dressing. That and some peri-peri chicken. Yum.
Sundays, Mondays and Tuesdays, it turns out, are The Mazza’s Special Banquet Nights. One starter, one main course, one side dish and a pilau rice or nan for £12.95 per person. Pilau’s my favourite in either form. The menu tells us that the word Mazza originates from Bangladesh and has a number of meanings such as fun, enjoyment and tasty. I’m hoping for all three tonight.
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