Muffin Roulette

Cecile reminded me of this tale from a few years ago. I didn't personally witness the events, but together with Cecile's information and other independent sources, it seems fairly accurate. Given the people involved, I don't have any doubts.

Cecile was in the middle stage of pregnancy with Russell. Beverley was trying to be helpful - overly so, bless her - and Brendan was... Brendan. I could see that my darling wife would benefit from a day or two of peace, and knew that I could care for her with the balance she needed.

Her cousin Coltsfoot Ivory had suggested that Brendan could go to his house on Cherry Blossom Avenue to participate in an overnight board game extravaganza. His son Chervil had been pressing for this for some months. Now seemed a great time.

That left Beverley. 

 

 

Cecile had been chatting with my cousins Samantha and Barbara (Bobbie) when they came over from Butterglove Lodge, and they thought their daughters would enjoy a sleepover together. This, of course, was long before Sam and Denzel had their quads. Also, my other cousin and resident there - Jonathan - was as yet unmarried to the bunny who had claimed his heart (Tabitha Cornflower). Consequently, there was space at Butterglove Lodge to have a slumber party without the restrictions there would be at the time of writing.

It was arranged. Beverley would join Sam's daughter Lena, Bobbie's daughter Biddie, and Colt & Celandine's daughter Anise for a sleepover and all that entailed. Beverley needed a little persuasion - her "mummy needs her" - but she finally acquiesced. Brendan just said, "Great. I'll get my stuff."

 

I subsequently heard the sleepover details from Beverley via Cecile, and from my cousins. I'd expected to hear about talk of food, music, clothes and schoolmates. There was, but that wasn't all. 

o 0 O 0 o

"Have you heard Dingle Boy's latest record, Beverley?" asked Lena. "It's marvy."

"I've only heard Fleece Oddity"

 

"No, that was last year. This is The Lamb Who Sold the Wool. Look," she said, showing the album cover.

 

"He dresses funny," said Biddie, then she giggled. "You should get your dad to wear funny clothes too, Bev. He'd be a proper pop star."

Beverley dismissed Biddie's teasing with a tolerating smile. "He doesn't need to be. Lionel Grand is going to record some of daddy's songs with Tamara Lynx."

 

Lena stared. "You're joking, aren't you?"

Anise put her arm around Beverley's shoulders. "It's true. I heard Aunt Cessie tell my mum. Mr Snow-Warren is doing the words but Uncle Jackson is doing the tunes."

 

Biddie regarded Beverley and Anise whilst she pondered this information. Then, a smile. "Okay. No funny clothes for him. He could buy you some, though."

 

"I think," said Beverley, "if there were any funny clothes to be worn in our house, my brother would have first dibs."

"Brendan's funny," said Biddie, nodding sagely.

 

 

"Brothers are," said Anise. "It's an unwritten rule."

o 0 O 0 o

Elsewhere, the rule was being demonstrated. Brendan was laughing as his cousin Chervil told him of his recent activities. 

 

 

o 0 O 0 o

Before the girls retired to their sleeping bags, Anise delved into her bag to produce a cake tin. She opened it and revealed the contents. Chocolate muffins.

"You see, Beverley?" she said, "I told you that I'd fix it so that your mum wouldn't need to bake for us. I've brought cake for us."

"They look yummy," said Biddie, poring into the tin. "Did you make them?"

 

Beverley's mouth twitched. "If she did, she's kept that skill a secret. Must be her mum. Is that right? Was it Auntie Celandine?"

Anise shook her head, smiling widely. "No. These are from Breezy Babblebrook's mum."

"Ooh!" said Lena, and there was a shared delight that they were going to sample something made by one of the best home cooks in Mellowdene. Crystal Babblebrook's reputation was long established, and the girls were almost bouncing in anticipation. 

"I used some of my pocket money to buy Breezy a present when she was poorly. As a thankyou, Mrs Babblebrook said she'd reserve some cakes for me when she next baked. I thought tonight was just the right time to enjoy them."

"That's very generous, Anise," Beverley said. "You're a good friend."

Biddie was still looking in the tin. "There are two layers too!"

They started upon the top layer, each approaching their treats in different ways. Lena nibbled hers daintily. Biddie bit off large chunks and held the food in her mouth to savour the flavour. Anise attacked the edges of her cake, turning it so that the shape was roughly maintained, shrinking as it was consumed. Beverley tended to break pieces off and eat it in regular portions. All made yummy noises.

"Well," said Anise, once the top layer had been decimated, "they didn't disappoint! Should we leave the second layer for later?"

 

She replaced the lid teasing her friends because she knew they would have other opinions.

 

"We could," said Biddie, still licking her lips, "but then we'd need to brush our teeth twice. If we ate them now..."

"Yes. We should definitely eat them now," said Lena. "It makes sense."

"Beverley?" said Anise, smiling when she received a nod in reply, "Then we're all agreed. Let's enjoy some more Babblebrook baking!"

 

Off came the lid again, and four paws reached forward. However, before any cakes could be removed, Anise took the piece of paper separating the layers and paused.

"Wait a minute. There's something written on this. It's Chervil's writing."

Anise read out the short message for the others to hear.

"Hello dear sister,
Just to remind you of a cake you gave to me a few days ago.
Granny Babblebrook's baking, you remember?
To return the favour, I'd like to include one amongst Mother Crystal's tasty cakes.
Make sure your sleepover friends don't eat it.
Your loving brother,
Chervil."

Beverley stared at the cakes. "Anise! There's one of Granny Pearl's 'things' in there?"

I should point out that, whereas Rocky Babblebrook was fortunate to have a culinary queen as his wife Crystal, his mother's cooking skills were widely recognised as... notably different. Pearl is blissfully unaware that her efforts are poor - and that's a kind description - as nobody wants to hurt her feelings.

Anise stared into the distance. "Surely he wouldn't..."

"But if you gave your brother one - and he ate it..."

The four young rabbits murmured, eyes fixed on the remaining cakes, and then all went quiet.

o 0 O 0 o

A few minutes passed. Biddie broke the silence.

"But most of the cakes will be alright. We could take one each..."

"Do you really want to take the risk?" Anise whispered.

"We could test it by nibbling, couldn't we? And how bad was Chervil affected?" 

"It was messy."

"Urrr!" said Lena, "Well, I'm not nibbling any."

"Nor me," said Beverley.

Anise was sniffing each cake and replacing them in the tin. "They look the same, they smell the same... but I'm not risking it."

She started to put the lid back on the tin.

 

Biddie pouted as she went to get the sleeping bags. "It seems such a shame."

 

 

Lena shuddered. "No. No, we'd best not risk it, Biddie. Anise has closed the tin anyway. Let's go clean our teeth."

And so the evening came to a close. Four disappointed bunnies crept into their sleeping bags and fell asleep. Biddie was the last to close her eyes, no doubt thinking about cake.

 

o 0 O 0 o

The following morning, when Beverley went with Anise to Cherry Blossom Avenue to collect her brother, they were greeted by Chervil and Brendan who were waiting outside.
Anise thrust the cake tin into Chervil's arms.

"Well I hope you're happy. You spoiled a lovely evening. All those lovely cakes wasted. When you ate Granny Babblebrook's cake you know I didn't expect you to be sick. I never thought you'd put us at risk knowing what you went through."

Chervil smiled brightly and opened the cake tin. He offered a cake to Brendan and took one for himself. In unison the two bunnies took large bites.

Anise and Beverley looked at one another then returned their gaze to their two brothers munching away with joyous abandon.

"They're all made by Breezy's mum?" Anise asked, although she knew the answer.

 

Chervil pointed to the tin. "You already said it, sis. I'd never put you at risk. Eat up."

Tentatively, Anise took a cake.

Beverley wasn't as tentative. She did cough a little - but that was because she was laughing as she ate.

o 0 O 0 o

The Music

With the distraction of the heatwave essentially over - a thunderstorm, sporadic rainfall, welcome summer breezes - the temperature was almost down to the seasonal levels with which we are familiar. We could return to normal life.

It's been an interesting week. In a nice way, too. As far as I'm concerned, that's always likely when music is involved. It probably won't surprise you to learn that I have three primary loves in my life - family, friends and music.

Yes. "The Music" has been there as long as I remember.

 

I didn't start my working life as a songwriter, but it wasn't long before I opted for that career full time.

Before I properly met Cecile, I had a working association with her brother Burdock Rowan Ivory and we were becoming friends. Whilst at Jimbo's Coffee Bar late one afternoon he saw that I'd scribbled some music notes on a napkin. Apparently I was humming the tune I was composing.

"Sounds good, Jack," he said. "You enjoy doing that, I can tell. Shame you can't do it full time."

I had already thought that. Merlin had even said that I should.

"Look at it this way, little brother," he had said. "I've got my dream job working at the library. Newton's now a Professor and he says he's been offered work outside Mellowdene that would stretch his brain. Why should you be the only brother who isn't doing what he was meant to do?"

 

I had dismissed this at the time, under the impression I needed to be a responsible bunny. It took the poetry of Christian Snow-Warren and his suggestion that we could work on a project together before I truly saw the possibilities. Maybe it could be a career.
The music was part of me. Why deny it?

But this doesn't really explain my interesting week. Merely why I was interested.

o 0 O 0 o

It started with a telephone call from Grant Foxworth, the producer of the musical that Chris and I had been working on for the past year. The date of the premiere was set. We were invited to attend and had apparently been assigned a number of tickets that we could use for friends or family. 

 

Cecile was excited of course. After much enthusiasm and lots of hugs and kisses she disappeared to share her glee with Eliza. Merlin would learn from her rather than me, but I didn't mind.

When I told Darcy Fielding the next day, he slapped me on the back.

"That's brilliant, Jackson. Of course, I'll be reporting on it for the Examiner. It's big news for Mellowdene - worthy of a front page story. Now, down to practicalities. How will you travel there? I expect you'll have a sizeable entourage?"

 

I hadn't thought about it. I'd just been enjoying the euphoria of my family. Darcy was, as ever, practical and happy to take charge. He settled back on the garden bench and regarded me.

"You haven't had a chance to consider that, I can tell," he said. "Well, don't worry about it, my friend. Darcy will sort it. I'll go and see Eustace Truffle at Mellowdene Van Hire. He's got close links with the Woodland Bus Company. We can charter a bus. All go together."

Things were moving despite the premiere not being imminent. Darcy likes to be ahead of the game.

 

 

o 0 O 0 o

The next interesting news item was a visit at the weekend from Angelica Ivory. Rowan had taken on another odd job - I didn’t ask - so maybe she was missing the unique personality of her husband. 

 

She had accompanied her twins, Aster and Figwort, who are - it is to be said - spending a little more of their spare time at our house. Aster's friendship with Beverley has grown steadily since the initial wariness of their first meeting and she is now an integral part of the core group that also contains Biddie Butterglove and Lena Dandelion. As previously documented, Figwort has grown from the shy, almost secretive little boy we first encountered. He now visits to play with Brendan, Orton and Lucky Snow-Warren on most days after school. And that's not all - but I'll return to that later. First, his mum Angelica Ivory.

"I'm glad I've caught you on your own, Jackson," she said. "Aster and Figgy are enjoying some warm chocolate pudding in the kitchen. I know it might spoil their evening meal, but I don't begrudge them the occasional treat."

I nodded. "Frasier has given Cecile some chunks of cooking chocolate - a new blend - as a thank you for some cake decorating she did. I'm looking forward to some pudding  after my teatime."

 

"Yes, yes," said Angelica, clearly eager to tell me something before the children made an appearance. "I just wanted to personally thank you, Jackson. Jack. And to apologise. It's been long overdue."

I raised my brows and she must have noticed my confusion. She indicated that we should sit before moving on to her explanation..

 

"Last year and the whole thing about Beverley, the mayor and the painting. I got carried away, was totally unfair putting your sweet daughter in that position, and for... manipulating you in the first place, I'm truly sorry."

"Manipulating me?"

"A little. Rowan made me see. He loves you like a brother, you know. Underneath all that joking and stuff. When we decided to move back to Mellowdene after him being away so long, he told me that it wasn't just Cecile he missed. He respects you too."

I didn't really know what to say. I said something like, "Oh. Right. We care for him too. He's a... loon..."

Not an entirely appropriate sentiment to express, but Angelica laughed.

"Yes he is. My lovely loon."

She paused. "But the reason I want to thank you is for Figwort. How he's changed this past few months. Rowan always said that Figwort looked sad at times but I never saw it. I must have been a terrible mother..."

"No Angelica. You have lovely childen. I can't accept that about you."

"Well, maybe that is an exaggeration. But I don't know how I missed it. Now, thanks to you, Figgy's opened like a flower. He has settled. He's visibly happy. And he's always talking about his Uncle Jack."

She leaned forward and kissed my cheek. "Thank you." 

 

She turned to go, then paused. "He sang in class the other day. That's the first time he's had confidence to do anything like that."

She left the room. I was... well, I don't know what I was. Angelica's revelations had thrown me. I didn't have long to examine my feelings as a smiling face appeared at the door.

"Uncle Jack!"

 

It was Figwort.

o 0 O 0 o

Angelica had confirmed something I suspected. Figwort did like his Uncle Jack. There was supplementary evidence of this.

It was clear the lad enjoyed his after-school visits to play with Brendan, but he didn't change his habit on Thursdays when Brendan didn't come straight home. On this day my boy was attending a drama club at the Furbanks' house. (Apparently this activity began as a consequence of the talent show a few months back. Kenneth Furbanks had been impressed with Brendan's story there.) Figwort decided that was an opportunity for him to come and see me.

It soon became obvious that he was fascinated with making music. In retrospect, I remembered him wandering to the end of the room to stare at my piano. Later, he would quietly hum or sing along to tunes I played. The news that he'd had the confidence to sing in class was wonderful, but I guess it was bound to happen at some point.

He had started to ask questions about music theory. The first time was a surprise. He had pointed to one of the black notes on the piano.

"Is that a G flat?" he had asked.

"It is indeed," I had smiled.

"But isn't it an F sharp too?"

I had laughed and confirmed his confusion. He wanted to know how that could be, so I'd tried to explain in simple terms. I don't think I did a great job, but Figgy seemed satisfied.  

I wondered what he would ask now. 

 

 

o 0 O 0 o

"Mummy didn't ask you if you'd like to work at the school, did she?" he said as he settled by my side. "I said she shouldn't; that you were too busy."

I shook my head. "Was that a possibility, Figgy?" 

"Mmm. She's been talking with my daddy about changes that might happen at the school. Has been for a few weeks."

I knew something was brewing. Darcy had told me that his daughter's project last Mellowdene Day had unexpectedly motivated the teaching staff to discuss changes to the curriculum. Despite some intentions to write about Dotty Dappledawn, Una Fielding had succumbed to her original ideas and highlighted weaknesses and suggested improvements to lesson planning.

"And that includes more formal music education?" I asked.

Figgy nodded. "I think it's just one idea. But I don't want it to stop you songwriting."

I wanted to hug him. He really was a sweet young boy. 

"You think it could do?"

"Trying to teach all the classes would be a lot of work. More than just teaching me."

I hadn't realised it until that moment, but I was teaching him - sort of. It was so easy, because of his voracious interest. I doubt a class full of children would ever approach his desire to learn music. I made a decision there and then.

"Figgy - would you like me to teach you to read music properly?"

 

His eyes shone. "Really?"

"I suspect you already have an inkling. I would have offered to teach you the piano, but you don't have anywhere to practise."

His mouth dropped open. Then, realising this, he regained some degree of composure.

 

"Well, Uncle Jack... maybe you could teach me a little bit. Mummy might let me use the piano at school..."

o 0 O 0 o

 

A while later when Figwort made to leave I pondered what he had said to his mum. When had he spoken to her? Was Angelica's original motive in seeing me today purely to sound me out as a potential school teacher? Maybe I'm being uncharitable. Whether or not it was today Figwort had caused his mother to think about her actions, I'm grateful to the lad for causing her to rethink. And she did seem genuinely grateful about my part in Figgy's growth.

As for me, I feel happy. Sharing the excitement of someone else who's discovering their intense love of "the music". It's beautiful.

o 0 O 0 o