“Go on Aunty, it’s porridge today, our favourite!”
Aunty Gwen forced a smile and backed away toward the patio doors that led into the garden.
“No thanks, not today, I’ve got to make a phone call and I’ll do it outside - you carry on and finish it all off.”
Please, please finish it all off, thought Gwen, as she took a long breath out, a very short breath in, and then another, very, long breath out, which was her normal way of preventing obnoxious smells getting any further up her nose than they had to.
She was generally keen on breakfast but the very mention of the ‘P’ word started the search for an excuse to avoid sharing the room with the foul smelling substance. No matter, she would just have to insist on treating everyone to pastries if she could engineer a coffee break later. At least she hadn’t caught sight of the congealed lump of milky mud that her twin sister loved so much.
“Hi Mum, Gwen here, I’m at Pam’s this weekend. Just thought I’d ring to see how you are.”
She closed the doors behind her and sent a silent prayer of thanks to the gods who had kept the rain away.
“Really? Oh, dear. How’s Dad?”
Dad would be reading the paper and would not interrupt his daily ritual, which was just as well, as the last thing she wanted was another interrogation about her lack of a husband.
“Of course, no, don’t disturb him. I was just admiring Pam’s garden. I don’t know where she finds the time.”
Gwen caught sight of the children through the window and waved. The image sent her back to the school refectory, with bowls piled high with white sludge, and the smell came back. She retched inwardly and reflected that she might as well had stayed in the kitchen.
“I didn’t know Pam had a gardener. She kept that quiet. It explains a lot of course. And there was I thinking she was Superwoman.”
The smell came back, but this time her thoughts wandered to the dormitory where she had been caught stuffing chocolate in lieu of breakfast. The teasing from her classmates changed to taunting, and in the garden, her shoulders rounded and her knees bent as she crouched in the corner and put her hands over her ears.
“Yes Mum. Bye then.”
Gwen turned towards the kitchen door and stopped dead to prevent herself bumping into a man stepping through the doorway. No, she decided, not a man, a God, and she was born again. Without moving her head she scanned six feet three of tanned muscle and entered a dream world where this was the beginning of a wonderful relationship. But where to begin?
Gwen had removed her shoes and was paddling in his ocean blue eyes when she was startled back into the garden by a disembodied voice.
“Sorry I startled you. I just have to get out of that kitchen. I can’t stand the smell of porridge.”
“Really” said Gwen. “You don’t say . . .”
