The things you do for love...

Tuesday, September 9 08

Mrs Bennet was stretched out like a cat, bottom in the air inspecting the dust under a chocolate-coloured leather sofa in a garden centre cafe. Not quite the lady-like behaviour one expects in such places. But then Mrs Bennet wasn't a lady. Well she was, but not in the posh frock sense. The glamour days of television were no more; her reporter's jackets, moth-eaten and musty were in the recycle of life. Instead, her uniform was now a trusty well-worn pair of jeans, long-sleeved cotton tops and bright purple Crocs; and, if time allowed to find one, a bright-coloured necklace, just to remind herself she was still there underneath the sensible motherhood attire.
She hadn't intended to stare at cobwebs, lost coins, fluff and stale crumbs, but it was an emergency. Miss Megan Bennet had dropped a pair of barbeque tongs. Not the normal size mind, the Playmobile thumbnail size.
"Why didn't I let Miss Bennet have the toy lion she so wanted or even that ugly-looking bean fish. Why did I say yes to a Playmobil figure of a man cooking sausages on a barbeque?"
No time for questions this was serious. If the plastic man didn't have his tongs he wouldn't be able to hold his sausages over the fire now would he? It wasn't a "it doesn't matter," scenario. These three words were totally the wrong words and would cause more damage, so Mrs Bennet did what she did best, humbled herself, grovelled on the floor and prayed the missing silver splinter would reappear.
Tomorrow was Miss Megan Bennet's first day at school and to mark her last day of being with mummy, she asked specifically if she could come to this particular garden centre because it had a pocket money shop. Mrs Bennet had promised she could buy something.
Having got the double pushchair through the door, the twins had to sit there and wait as their wagon couldn't fit much further into the shop. One was asleep, the other content to sit and study a packet of hairbands while her older sibling studied every toy in the shop before making a choice. The barbeque man represented the summer that never was, but Miss Megan Bennet was adamant she was taking a piece of summer home with her. This man, wearing a special apron and armed with his fork was going to prepare a feast for her Sylvannian family collection.
Not wanting to disappoint the tiny ducks, badger, bears and pandas, who no doubt would be dressed in their finery for the occasion, Mrs Bennet was set on finding the missing instruments which enabled the chef to turn his sausages and serve the meat to his mini zoo.
Amused by the sight of their mother's bottom, the twins started pointing and laughing, almost sharing an unspoken joke between themselves. Mrs Megan Bennet was distraught. Mrs Bennet was determined. But the dirty knees paid off. As a last resort, Mrs Bennet moved a table leg, and there, looking like a tiny sword, the grey tongs revealed themselves.
It was worth the effort seeing the tiny ducklings and mice enjoy themselves. Where the barbeque man and his tongs were now Mrs Bennet had no idea.
"Best not mention barbeque for a while," she thought. "If the B word is mentioned again, I'll suggest the Sylvannians have a picnic instead."