The Fairy Godmother Part 79

For the second morning I woke up not entirely sure where I was, but as my eyes began to focus I realised that I was in my own room and Mum was not the only one who needed to do some serious housework.

After breakfast I decided to change the bed clothes, I couldn’t remember when I had last changed them, so I decided that today would be a good day to do it. Then I piled up all the clothes and towels that needed washing on the sheet. There was more there than I thought there would be, so I took them down to the laundry.

“I was wondering when I would see you again,” said Velvet taking the laundry and handing it over to one of the many workers.

“I’ve been very busy,” I replied.

“So I heard,” said Velvet. “And what have you found out?”

“Half of my family are sane and reasonable and the others are certifiable,” I replied.

“And now what?” Velvet asked.

“Good question,” I said. “I have absolutely no idea.”

“And is that why you are cleaning up?” Velvet asked.

“No,” I smiled. “As you know, I helped Mum clean her rooms out yesterday and when I woke up this morning I realised mine could do with the same treatment.”

“Mum?” asked Velvet.

“Enid,” I replied.

“I know who she is, but you’ve never called her Mum before,” Velvet replied.

“She never felt like my Mum before,” I admitted.

“And now she does?” asked Velvet.

“After seeing her parents and the way they treated her,” I shook my head.

“They were always hard on her,” Velvet agreed.

“I think I understand her a bit better,” I said.

“You think?” Velvet asked.

“She’s always been such a strong person, very much “my way or the wrong way”,” I said trying to work out how to explain. “Now, somehow she is vulnerable, I don’t know if that makes any sense.”

“Some,” said Velvet. “So what about Natasha and Malcolm?”

“You know that magazine I’ve been working with?” I asked.

“Yes, I saw that first edition, you did a very good job with it,” said Velvet. “Haven’t quite got around to the second yet, as you know I am quiet busy.”

“I got Natasha to help with the second and a few more,” I smiled.

“How did you get her to do that!” asked Velvet.

“I told her that she was the best interior designer, that the Editor’s wife wanted to revamp their home and would she do some articles for the magazine about it,” I said.

“And she couldn’t say no,” laughed Velvet. “You have a talent for getting people to do things. What did Malcolm think?”

“He’d get a bit of peace and quiet,” I sighed.

“What’s wrong?” asked Velvet.

“I just don’t understand him,” I replied.

“What’s to understand?” asked Velvet.

“They are a couple, yet he doesn’t mind when she disappears off working,” I said.

“He knows she’s happy doing what she enjoys rather than sitting at home getting board and restless,” said Velvet.

“So he’s happy because she’s happy?” I asked.

“Yes,” smiled Velvet.

“But wont he be board when she’s not there?” I asked.

“He might be, after a while, or he might be busy doing all those little things he couldn’t get done whilst she was at home,” said Velvet. “If you’re worried about him why don’t you just drop in on him?”

“My room’s a mess,” I replied. “I really aught to sort it out.”

“That sounds like an excuse,” said Velvet. “Your room has been a mess for quite a while, I’ve heard the maids speaking and, knowing Malcolm, a visit to him is never going to last long, you could do it in less time than it’s taken to talk to me.”

“You don’t think I’m being stupid or something?” I asked.

“Perhaps, but only for spending ages debating on it,” Velvet replied. “He’s your Grandfather, you don’t need any other excuse to see him.”

I knocked on my Grandparents front door and waited.

“Oh, it’s you!” said Malcolm looking disappointed. “For a moment I thought she was back,” he added turning round and walking back into their front room. The room looked untidy, there were the remains of a take-away on the coffee table and several mugs littered around the room.

“Good job it was me,” I said. “I don’t think she’d like to find the place looking like this,” or you looking like that. He looked tired and unshaven, his hair looked like it would benefit from seeing a comb and his clothes were splattered with food, possible some of the take-away that hadn’t quite made it from container to mouth.

“It’s just housework,” said Malcolm.

“So, you’ll either have to find a cleaner to do it, or learn to do it yourself,” I replied.

“Natasha wont have a cleaner in the house, she doesn’t trust them to do it right,” he replied shaking his head and then looking like he regretted it.

“Then you’ll have to do it,” I replied.

“But, it’s women’s work!” he replied.

“If you mean by that that men are incapable of doing it?” I asked.

“It’s something women know about, but men don’t,” he tried to explain.

“How about I give you a lesson in housework,” I said.

“I don’t know,” he looked uncertain.

“It would save you from one hell of a row when Natasha gets back,” I replied. “She might feel that she can’t leave you alone if the place looks like this when she does.”

“But she enjoys her work,” he said.

“So we clean up before she gets here,” I said, picking up the remains of the the first of the take-ways. “Where is the bin and what day does it get emptied?”

“I’m not sure,” he said. “She always puts things in the bin.”

“It doesn’t take much doing,” I replied.

“I don’t know which bin to put what in,” he snapped. “When I was young there was one bin and everything went in it, now there’s, I don’t know how may bins and boxes, I don’t know what goes in which, all I do know is that if you get it wrong they wont empty it and you get a hefty fine as well.”

“It’s very simple,” I said.

“Are you saying I’m stupid?” snapped Malcolm.

“No,” I replied. I might be thinking it, but I haven’t said it. “Natasha did all that sort of thing and she, obviously, didn’t leave you instructions about it or you’d have followed them, you can’t be expected to know what you haven’t been told about. Shall we start?”

“I will not have it be said that I did the housework in my own home,” said Malcolm.

“I wont tell if you don’t,” I replied. “Now, will you help me?” I asked.

“Well, of course,” Malcolm replied. “Can’t have my little granddaughter doing any heavy lifting or anything.”

“Right,” I said. “Now we have that sorted, lets start with the rubbish.”

“Why do we have to start with that?” he asked.

“Everybody has to start somewhere and it smells the most,” I replied.

“What about the laundry, some of my socks can be a bit on the wiffy side, at least that’s what Natasha says, I wouldn’t know about it,” Malcolm mumbled.

“OK,” I said handing him a bin bag. “Start putting the laundry in that.”

“What are you going to do with it?” he asked.

“I’ll send it to the Fairy Laundry,” I replied.

“Are they any good?” he asked.

“A Fairy Godmother has to look perfect at all times,” I replied. “That means we have to have a laundry service that is second to none.

“But will Natasha approve of it?” Malcolm asked.

“It is run by Velvet,” I replied. “My Father’s second wife.”

“You mean the one he did marry,” said Malcolm. “I remember her well, very precise she always put her best into whatever she was doing.”

“Exactly,” I said. “So you can expect her to do not just a good job, but the best job possible.”

“Definitely,” he smiled. I got the impression this was something I might have to ask Velvet about, then again, I might no want to know the answer.

“Is this everything?” I asked half an hour later.

“All the stray undies from under the bed, tea towels from behind the kitchen cupboards, table clothes from up the chimney,” he said counting his fingers.

“And the bath towels from behind the sofa,” I added.

“Nearly forgot those,” he said, ticking them off on his fingers as well, I feel as though I aught to ask how things got in such odd places, but I’m not sure I’d like the answers I’d get. “I think that’s everything,” he said, looking into the bin bag.

“I’ll send them off to Velvet, if we find anything else it can go in the next load,” I replied giving my wand a quick wave, I just hoped she wouldn’t mind doing them. “Now, the bins and no more procrastinating.”

By Janice Nye © 2020