Jennffer and the BBQ

She was on a motorbike.

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Copyright © 2012, Michael M Wayman

We're both into sports, Peter and me. We're good at most things, but we're not the best at cross country running. We could be in the main field, the majority of runners who finish about a minute after the leaders, but we don't.

We run with the stragglers at the back, we don't care, we have a good run and help the useless ones to continue running, we're happy doing that.

Suddenly Miss Scunthorpe comes running up behind us, as if she was on a motorbike. “Hi, you two! I've got a job for you. Get a bowl about this big from the kitchens.” She held her hands to show the size of the bowl.

“And cut apples, oranges, grapes, bananas in small lumps and fill the bowl. Don't add anything to it. Just be at your school gates at six o'clock this evening WITH the bowl.” She shot off and was soon out of sight.

I got in the front and Peter squeezed in the back with Jennffer and Catherine. Miss Scunthorpe drove us to High Cliff. We had grilled fish, grilled sausages, salad and, of course, our fruit salad. The weather was good. A great evening.

The five of us were squeezed on a small bench watching the sun go down and talking about everything possible, probably a lot about sport. Catherine sat on my lap and Miss Scunthorpe sat on Peter's lap – Jennffer was squashed in between.

“Where is Jennffer? I have not heard a word from her for a long time. Where is she?”

Jennffer was still there, very squashed. She was crying softly.

“No, I'm not unhappy. I'm very happy.”