Michael Bailey
was an Estate Agent in the Village, and he had been dating Maisie Threadgold,
one of the family of Threadgold’s Garden Centre fame, whose business had been
in existence in some form or other for over 100 years and was still family run.
She was a
pretty blonde girl, and everyone thought Michael was punching above his weight.
But a few
months earlier he proposed to her and furthermore she accepted, and ever since
plans upon plans were being made by both mothers.
They hadn’t
moved in together by the time December arrived, but they were spending more and
more time at each other’s homes but weren’t officially living together.
Monday was a
normal workday for Michael but Maisie had managed to book off a couple of days
off work so she could do some early Christmas shopping and do a bit of
housework.
When he
returned home after work, he could tell that apart from her shopping she had
spent some of her time productively and the house was looking more homely than
it had ever done and as he walked into the lounge he was greeted by the smell
of home cooking.
“Hi Hon” he
called “Something smells nice”
Her head
suddenly appeared from around the kitchen door and said
“It’s me”
So, he walked
down the hall to meet her and gave her a kiss
“No, it’s not
you” he said “I can definitely smell something tasty”
“Cheek” Maisie
said and hit him with a wooden spoon
“Ow” he said, “what’s
cooking then?”
“Bacon and
onion dumpling” she replied then continued in a very bad Italian accent “Justa
lika mamma used to maka”
“And is yours
as good as mamas?” he asked thinking that if it tasted half as good as it smelt
he was in for a treat.
“Better” she
replied “now go and finish setting the table”
So, he did as
she instructed, and then opened a bottle of wine, he returned to the kitchen
just in time to see the suet delight coming out of the oven and he could have
sworn, he heard the oven sigh.
As he sat and
ate the heaviest most indigestible dumpling he had ever experienced along with
lumpy mash, anemic gravy and overcooked veg he thought to himself
“How bad a cook
is her mother?”
He persevered
and ate most of it and when she said
“Well?”
He didn’t have
the heart to tell her the truth
“Lovely” he
said and thought it was a good job he wasn’t marrying her for her cooking.
Fortunately,
Michael could cook, and he generally got home an hour before her so he would
get the evening meal on the go so as to minimize the risk of having to eat her
offerings.
It was about a
fortnight after the night of the dumpling when they were summoned to the
Threadgold’s house, for Sunday lunch, which he had to admit, he was rather
looking forward to.
Her father
Martin was very easy company, especially if you restricted the conversation to
sport while Eliza thought the sun shone from his every orifice.
But the main
thing he was looking forward to most was a Roast dinner, and he wished he could
have one every week.
But there is a
very old saying “Be careful what you wish for”.
They were in
the car on their way to the family home and she asked
“Are you sure
you don’t mind?”
“Of course,” he
said “I like your folks and I’m looking forward to a great Sunday lunch”
“Oh” Maisie
said doubtfully “Good”
They arrived
just after two and found Martin in the lounge watching football.
“Hi Dad” she
said
“Hello baby
girl,” he replied and gave her a kiss, then he shook Michael’s hand.
“Michael dear
boy” he said “sit down, they’ve just kicked off”
“I’ll just say
hello to Eliza first” he said, and Maisie led the way.
The aromas
emanating from the kitchen were mouthwatering.
“Mum?” Maisie
called
“I’m in here
darling” a disembodied voice called back.
He followed
Maisie into the kitchen and kisses and hugs were exchanged between them and
then Eliza turned her attention on him.
“It’s lovely to
see you Michael” Eliza said “I’m glad you could come”
“It smells
delicious” he said “I can’t wait”
“Oh” she said
all flustered “that’s a really nice thing to say”
Then Maisie
kissed him and dispatched him to keep her father company.
Martin had a
freshly poured beer sitting on the table waiting for him.
“Are there you
are” he said without taking his eyes off the screen.
“It’s one nil
to City, completely against the run of play”
Eliza called
them to the table about half an hour later and they sat down at the table.
Martin poured
the wine and Maisie and Eliza carried the tureens in, then when they were all seated,
she lifted the cover off the meat platter to reveal the charred remains of what
would once have been a very expensive joint of beef.
The vegetables
and the gravy were a similar disappointment; the insipidness of the gravy was
clearly a family tradition.
As Martin
unceremoniously hacked his way through the charcoal, he slowly revealed the
undercooked redness at its core.
As he struggled
politely through the hideous meal, he was left to ponder how two such beautiful
women could be such ugly cooks.
So, it was with
a full stomach and a bad case of indigestion that they drove off from her parents’
place.
“Did you enjoy
your Sunday roast then sweetie?” Maisie asked
“Oh yes” he replied,
“it was ….”
“Horrible?”
Maisie interrupted
“No, no” he
protested
“Yes, yes” she
corrected him “Mums even more rubbish at cooking than I am”
“You’re not
rubbish hon” he said gallantly
“I am, you
could have beaten someone to death with my bacon and onion dumpling it was so
heavy” Maisie said and laughed
“Well maybe not
to death, but certainly into a coma” he said, and she punched him.
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