I woke up really early with a sense of dread. It felt like the entire smooth running of the next few days depended on me. It was like finding yourself in Jack's cot on the Surprise and realizing that you weren't a wench who was there for the pleasuring but that you were actually Jack and had to captain the entire ship - 196 souls and a couple of goats. At least I had had the perspicacity to go to bed relatively early the night before and so was in a well rested frame of mind, unlike my bed partner who had been tripping the light fantastic with some of his Brothers ( and probably a few sisters, too) until God knows what unearthly hour in the morning. He was paying for it now.

I slipped out of bed, showered and dressed for action. Work clothes. Jeans and a baggy shirt. Terry was in a coma - so I let him sleep on. He actually doesn't get much sleep most of the time, working long hours and going out very early in the morning(not to mention the amount of traveling he does which much wear him out). I ruffled up his hair as he snored on; he grunted and rolled over - at least there was some proof of life, even if it was only vestigial.

On the next floor it was as quiet as the grave- the residents of our four spare rooms were still out for the count. Downstairs, I cleared up the debris from the late night session - beer cans, glasses, wine bottles, snacks, ashtrays etc., - and heaved at the 'next morning' fug of the room. Opening the windows I let the December gale blow the cobwebs away and restored the room to some order before Mrs. Battersby arrived. Enid Battersby is my cleaner. She is a fearsome little Eastender who makes me tidy up before she will even deign to come in and clean. I think she thinks I am a slob. Actually she is probably right.

Enid was on the dot and set to work downstairs, tutting obviously when I informed her that she couldn't get to the bedrooms as I had houseguests who were still asleep. She likes to start upstairs and work down and hates for her sacred ritual to be interrupted. I indicated that I would be giving her a sizable bonus for the extra work but instead of appearing pleased, she merely answered, "I should think so, too." She is a widow- I reckon she and Killick would really hit it off- don't tempt me.

I sat down at the kitchen table with a cup of tea and a piece of toast trying to work out the logistics of breakfast. Bud, Hando, Biebe and Terry- just how many rashers of bacon and pounds of sausage, not to mention fried eggs was that going to be? After a night on the booze men love nothing better than a greasy breakfast to soak up all the toxins. I felt my stomach heave at the thought of what they were capable of shoveling inside. Deciding to be grateful that Jack would be receiving room service at a nearby hotel rather than adding to my load, I began to prepare the repast. I amused myself that I was Killick and muttered complaints under my breath at my sorry lot in life.

There is something about the smell of bacon grilling that seems to work on the sensory glands of men. Despite the fact that he was two floors above, Terry suddenly emerged, bristly but beautiful- he had showered and his hair was damp but he hadn't shaved yet; my favourite look. Rubbing his hands together, he helped himself to a piece of bacon; I slapped him and told him to go wake the others. He said there was movement- no doubt the smell had permeated their rooms, too.

Enid breezed into the kitchen at that point- her sensory glands were attuned to Terry and she always hung about him when he was home. "Good morning, dearie. Would you like me to freshen up that pot of tea for you...looks like Ma'am has let it go cold- that will never do..." She looked over at me with her superior face on.

"If you're sure it's no trouble, love," Terry said with his usual inability not to charm the knickers off any female of any age.

"Trouble? No trouble at all, duckie," the old crone simpered and set to brewing up. I shook my head - she will barely switch on the vac for me. Terry grinned over at me, well aware what was going on in my mind.

One by one the couples wandered down. The Biebes were first looking remarkably bright -they had retired early either jetlag or passion driving them- but they both looked well on it, anyway. They settled themselves down and helped themselves to the traditional English fare that I had waiting for them in the dining room, laid out on warmers just as you are supposed to do according to the films. Just like we never actually do anymore in England - but you have to lay it on thick for our American cousins, don't you?

They were very appreciative of the spread: eggs- fried or scrambled, bacon, sausages, tomatoes, mushrooms, black pudding, kidneys, fried bread- simply gross stuff that I would  never eat but they walloped it down with lashing of coffee (tea for Terry) while I nibbled on toast and a croissant. Typically I prefer a French breakfast.

The Whites followed - he was onto the food almost before he had said good morning. You know what he is like before he has been fed. Heather wandered down next and asked for tea and helped herself to a little scrambled egg on toast. Lachlan was still asleep- he was exhausted after his back and forth Atlantic runs and would probably sleep awhile longer yet. We asked where Teener and Hando were; she raised her eyes and said 'Probably in heaven by now if the grunts were anything to go by- I wish he would close that adjoining door on his side...' Shortly after the two in question emerged, looking flushed, and received a round of applause for the others. Hando took a bow; Teener thumped him and told him to grow up.

I was surprised how good it made me feel to have us all around my table. Nine of us - although I wish Lachlan would have been there to complete the party. It presaged how the next few days would be. Our family in our home. I had never realized how much that would affect me.

They all lingered over their cups of tea and coffee long after the platters of food had been emptied and it was good to hear everyone talk, catching up on news and gossip, exchanging stories of their work or trips they had made- just generally relaxed and chilling out together. We have all come along way in a relatively short time and the bonds, even if occasionally threatened, are fundamentally strong.

Teener and Hando seemed very relaxed and both were chatting and laughing easily with the others; I noticed once or twice that T ran her hand down his thigh and he turned to smile at her; it wasn't a sexual advance, more one of mutual reassurance. They are so good for each other. It brought tears to my eyes.

Heather was deep in conversation with Terry so I decided to leave them all to it. Back in the kitchen I loaded up the dishwasher and prepared a tray for Lachlan. Suddenly they all poured in, clearing the dishes, and insisting that they wash up. I didn't argue- I hate washing up and was more than happy to leave Major Thorne in control. Let's see what he does when someone says, " Where does this go?" or "Where do you keep your dishcloths?" He would be quickly sussed.

I busied myself with preparing breakfast for Lachlan and asked Heather if she wanted to carry the tray up. She said "You take it to him - he'll be glad to have a chat and will be more polite with you. If I wake him, he'll probably say something very rude!" We both laughed at that but I wasn't fooled; she was angling for more time alone with Terry. Who could blame her?

Upstairs, I rested the tray on a cupboard in the corridor and knocked lightly, opening the door tentatively. He was still out for the count, sprawled back in the centre of the bed- so Lachlan- and snoring lightly. I went back for the tray and carried it in to rest it on a small table. It was already ten thirty and I knew he wanted to join the men at the Races so I took a chance on waking him. Drawing back the curtains, letting the wintry sun shine into the room, I sat on the edge of the bed and called his name, shaking his arm slightly. He stirred but did not wake, muttering something unintelligible under his breath.

For a few moments I watched him. He is so beautiful in sleep, looking even younger than ever, his long lashes fluttering on his face, his hair all mussed up. He was naked and the covers were pushed away from him- the central heating was on full blast and the room quite warm. His body was revealed to his hips and it was a very tasty treat, stocky and muscular, lightly haired and golden brown. One hand was flung above his head and one leg bent- I could also see the slight protrusion of his morning erection lifting the sheet that was all that covered him, the duvet having been kicked away.

"Lach? Wake up...I've brought you some breakfast."

He opened his eyes and woke with a jerk. For a moment he stared, obviously confused as he left his dream, and then he smiled lazily, clearing his throat and stretching his legs. He scratched at the scruff of hair below his naval absentmindedly. "Uma? Thought I'd died and gone to heaven."

I grinned and helped him to sit up against raised pillows. Lachlan wasted no time in running his hands down my butt. I told him to behave. He laughed suggestively and made as if to look under the sheet.

"I'm warning you, flyboy, you wave that joystick around and I'll pour the contents of the teapot on it."

He held his hands up in surrender and I gave him the tray, hoping it wouldn't wobble under the obstacle beneath. He helped himself to orange juice and leaned back rubbing his beard thoughtfully, eyeing me up. "You look as if you're a bit harried. Got a busy day ahead, have you? Anything I can do?"

I shook my head. "I've all the Sisters to call on. Just make sure that you keep His Lord and Master from under my feet all day and don't bring him back until he is three sheets to the wind and ready for bed. I cannot cope with him in a good mood today!" Lachlan promised, lifted the lid on his breakfast plate, greeted the food with relish and tucked in. I left him to it. I have watched enough men feed their faces already today.

The men were off to the races today- Kempton Park. Terry had a hospitality box that he had blagged off some grateful client so they would be wined and dined in style. The plan was to go and pick up Stephen, Colin, Jeff and Paul on the way and then have a real boys' day out. I breathed a sigh of relief at the thought of getting rid of them all so that I could get on.

One by one the men took themselves off to get ready to leave while the women sat about discussing what they were planning to wear for the big night and other girly topics. Everyone was doing each other's nails and hair - it would be quite a lark getting ready, like a sleep over party when we were kids. I could already feel the rising excitement and wondered what level we would reach when the other three women got here- total meltdown I would imagine.

Down they came all freshly shaved and dressed, eager to get out and play. Terry supplied a few hip flasks for the cold and they wrapped up warm- Biebe laughed at them all and called them lightweights for needing scarves and gloves on such a warm day. It was bloody cold for Aussies but I reckon almost sunbathing weather for an Alaskan- everything is relative indeed. With a lot of noise, sloppy kisses and dirty laughs, we finally got them out of the house and into the vehicle- Terry had hired a mini- bus to do the honours- they intended to do some serious drinking today.

We waved them off and I breathed a sigh of relief. Now we could all get to work and begin some of the preparations- most notably the cake. Back we ran into the house, thankfully shutting the door and closing out the biting wind. Enid came down and complained about the mess in one of the bathrooms. I didn't venture further information.

"OK, girls, synchronise your watches while I get out the battle plan. You can be Downtown..."

"Do you mind if I go back to bed for a while? I don't feel too good. I think it's jetlag..." Teener asked with a rather pale, glassy eyed expression. She really did look like she needed to get her head down.

"Sure, love. Can I get you anything? A warm drink?" She shook her head and took herself off upstairs. I expect that the thought of her bed, freshly made and without Hando was just what she needed. "Ah well, not to worry..." I looked around and the others were all wandering upstairs, too.

"I need a shower." 

"I have to shave my legs." 

"I want to soak in that beautiful tub...".

"Right you are. You get yourselves sorted. I have to go to the supermarket anyway. I'll be back in an hour or so," I retorted to their retreating backs.

Tesco on Sunday is not my favourite port of call but there were quite a few things we needed- it was hard to keep up with the demands of this houseful. I bought everything on my list and then ran round again throwing in more beer, mixers, nibbles, bacon, sausages, milk...on and on...I felt like the quartermaster equipping the Surprise for a particularly long voyage. By the time I got back and struggled in with all the bags, it was already two. Where was the day going to?

The house was quiet and I unpacked and put everything away. Sitting over a cuppa and beginning to try and decipher the hieroglyphics of the recipe book, one by one they floated in all done up to the nines like visions of loveliness,

"Uma, honey, could you point me in the direction of the shops? I want to go to Harrods and treat John to something really classy for tomorrow. He hates shopping and will try and wear any old thing if I let him..."

"Oh... yes... right. I'll drop you off at the Tube on the High Street. It'll take you straight there. Knightsbridge is your stop. Give me a bell when you get back and I'll come and pick you up."

"No, darlin' you need to get on- I'll ride a cab." I threw on a coat, felt slightly woozy as I wafted in the wake of her fragrance and dropped her off at the nearest Tube station. My eye was on the clock- I would really have to motor to get this bloody thing in the oven before they all got back.

Reaching home again I ran in to find Heather in the hallway, trying to find a number for a taxi. "Uma- can you call me a cab? I need to get into London."

"London?" I asked incredulously.

She blushed slightly. "Em...I'm meeting Dino for a couple of hours. He said he wanted to show me the sights." She giggled nervously. I raised my eyes.

"Wait, let me put my coat back on, I'll run you to the Tube..."

That just left the two of us. Not for long!

"Oh, didn't I mention that I have a date this afternoon? So sorry, hon, but I'm going out. I won't be able to help you with your cake." She did have the decency to feign remorse. I was not impressed.

"Who needs you anyway? Go to your assignation...I shall get Arthur to help me. He'll probably be better at it than you anyway..."

...At that moment the door bell rang - her carriage had arrived. "That will be Jack. He said that he was picking me up at three..."

Enid was onto the door. She came in grumbling. Opening the front door was not on her list of duties. "There's a bleeding Nancy outside with his hair in a pony tail...should I slam the door in his face?"

"NO!" We both shouted together.

"No need to shout. I'm not flaming deaf," she muttered belligerently. She turned on her heel and was gone before I could say 'spotted dick'. I never even got to see Jack. I felt like bloody Cinderella. I couldn't even pretend that my sisters were ugly, either.

Pulling into the drive, however, I saw a sight that immediately cheered me up. Sitting in the porch was Arthur and there appeared to be someone with him. Closer inspection showed me that it as a girl. A girl? A human girl - with Arthur? Well, my giddy aunt...

I bounded out of the car and gamboled over to Arthur who picked me up and whirled me round giving me a smacking great kiss. The young lady with him seemed surprised. I wondered what he had told her about me.

"Yooma, please can I introduce my friend Angharad..." Arthur began turning to the girl in the porch.

"Arthur...don't you even know her name?" I hissed into his ear.

"That is her name. Angharad...Angharad Davies ...she's from Llandudno..." The lovely Angharad stepped forward and shook my hand.

"I'm ever so pleased to meet you, Mrs. Baskin, Arthur has told me so much about you. It's very kind of you to invite me for the weekend..."

I looked at Arthur and he gave me a nervous smile but I could see he needed me to cover for him, although I didn't have a clue what he had told her. Smiling sweetly at her, I dragged on Arthur's hand and pulled him to my ear. "Who the fuck does she think I am? Mrs. Baskin? What do I do, make ice cream for a living? And don't you dare say she thinks I'm your mother..."

Arthur grinned. "Of course not, you can't be my mother...you're not Welsh!" That made me feel a whole lot better. "No, she thinks you are my sister-in-law. Terry is my big brother. I thought it was best to stick with that, don't you?"

"Yeah, Arthur, great idea- except Terry isn't bloody Welsh either- how do you intend to explain that?"

He frowned. "We'll think of something..."

I flounced back to the door, and opened it. "Well, Miss Davies, welcome to my humble abode. And the name's Uma. Not Baskin. I'm not married to Arthur's brother. We live in sin. You're not Chapel are you, by any chance?" The poor girl smiled wanly and shook her head.

Inside, I took their coats while they looked around. Arthur whistled appreciatively and Angharad stared. "Oh, Yooma, you have a lovely home. There's lovely now, isn't it, Arthur?" He nodded. I smiled at her lilting accent- a real Welsh accent is so charming and from a girl as lovely as Angharad, even more so. She looked about twenty- raven dark hair and beautiful violet eyes. Think a young Catherine Zeta- Jones. Boy, is Arthur getting an eye for a pretty girl these days.

"Why, thank you, Angharad, and what do you do for a living?"

"I'm a pastry chef at the Dorchester..." 

Thank you, God, I owe you another one.

"Really...how fascinating...funny you should mention it. I was just about to bake a cake..."

Oh my God when I get lucky, I really get lucky. While Arthur and I put our feet up in the kitchen, the even lovelier Angharad whipped me up the most fabulous birthday cake in the world and prepared very stiff icing. Thanks Darcy for the tip but she didn't need it. It's all in the glycerine apparently. Meanwhile Arthur filled me in on how they had met.

"Well, I checked into the hotel and all the others were in couples and frankly they were more interested in checking out the beds. So I showered and wandered off down the road to watch the football in a pub. Angharad was having a bevy with her mates and we struck up a conversation. Once we realized that we were both Welsh, we were away. Would you believe her Auntie Gwyneth owns the butcher's shop in my village back home..." It seems they had met up, gone for dinner and then Arthur had taken her back to the hotel where they had shagged all night and then slept most of the day. He was really enamoured of her and hadn't wanted to say goodbye, so had taken the liberty of asking her to spend the weekend with him. As luck would have it she was off work until Tuesday and he didn't want to miss a minute. Miss Davies clearly felt the same.

"You are in big trouble when the others find out," I whispered. "You aren't supposed to sleep with anyone from outside."

"Terry does," he declared as though that gave him Biblical authority.

"Terry doesn't. Well, on occasion he does pay for a bit, but only when he has a very good reason...and having a hard on is not a very good reason."

"Well, it would be difficult to do it without one," Arthur argued, rather truculently I thought. "Some of the Temple Boys are at it all the time. I'm only human, Yooma. What am I supposed to do, tie a knot in it?"

I thought about it. Arthur was right. What was he supposed to do? Accept that maybe he might never have a Number One and just put up with it? I didn't agree. But I saw the pitfalls and pointed them out to him.

"I know...I know...but I only just met her. It will probably come to nothing anyway, but I like her very much. Where's the harm in that?"

I smiled at him, ruffled up his hair and looked into his earnest eyes. Arthur was not a boy anymore and must be lonely for something more permanent in his life, something more like the other older men had. I looked over at Angharad who kept throwing him adoring glances. Who could blame her? Who could blame him if he wanted a woman who had special eyes for him alone? "I'm with you Arthur. You know me. The queen of the rule breakers. I can hardly accuse you with my track record, can I? By the way, want to know my latest infringement? This will knock yours from the top spot if it's found out..."

So we chatted all afternoon. He was very happy and he was also extremely sensitive to the things I had revealed about my past. I was surprised at his maturity and the counsel he gave me. It felt like I might have had some part in making a man of this rather special friend. I'm hoping he makes something with his beautiful Welsh girl. They both could do a lot worse.

The confection that rose on my kitchen table was exquisite. The final touch to the flawless icing was the spun sugar she deftly whirled over the whole until it looked like gossamer. With a few silver leaves sprinkled here and there the magnificent cake was ready. We transferred it to the pantry and covered it over to be kept for its moment of glory. Arthur suggested he should clear up the kitchen to save me the job but I stopped him.

"No, leave it exactly as it is. Now I need your help. Take this flour and throw it all over the floor. Now, smear margarine on the table. Crack a few eggs on the work top. That's it. I think I need to break a glass dish, too. Icing sugar everwhere. Mess up my clothes...I want maximum chaos..."

Arthur and Angharad looked bemused. I explained. "They think I will bugger it up. This is my chance to prove them wrong. Let them come back and see the mess, make them feel guilty, notice how upset I am. I will insist that my pathetic cake will be the one served and they will be so sorry for me. Tomorrow night I produce this. They will be completely bamboozled. But...and this is very important. On no account must anyone mention that Angharad here works at the Dorchester- got that? If they enquire you are a student. Will you go along with this for me?"

I can be very persuasive. When Heather returned, she found me vainly trying to clean my kitchen. She felt so bad that she ran upstairs, changed and got stuck in, telling me to go take a rest. Teener came down much refreshed and the others were back shortly after and they both joined in too. I sat back and sipped a cup of tea, thanking them for their help and knowing they felt very mean to have left me in this dilemma.

"So how was the cake?" Heather asked tentatively.

I shrugged. "It's OK, I suppose. Nothing special. It looks alright but I'm not too sure how it tastes..."

The three women exchanged glances.  "We'll have a piece anyway. If anyone says anything nasty they'll have me to talk to," Teener insisted. I smiled innocently.

"You're all too good to me." I cooed. They should have guessed then - but they are so easy, almost too easy for someone of my evil inclinations. I do so love a good scam.

 The men came back early evening and were well away having obviously been carousing most of the day. As a result the evening was pretty subdued. Most of the couples either disappeared upstairs and didn't reemerge until the next day. Terry, Hando and Lachlan spent most of the evening asleep in the lounge. The women talked and Arthur and Angharad made out in the conservatory. It was an early bedtime for all of us that night in readiness for the next day. I waited until all were tucked up, nudged Terry awake and we locked up. Peace at last. Or at least for the time being. I settled down at the computer and wrote up the days' events. If I don't do it now, I thought, I will never get the chance...

"Hey, shouldn't you be in bed? Give the keys a rest, love. Come to bed," Terry's voice disturbed me as I was just finishing my entry.

"Give me a few minutes I've nearly finished," I replied. "Anyway I thought you were in bed."

"It's too cold without you. Writing a diary? Good day, was it? What happened?" He tried to read over my shoulder, I shut the page down. "OK... I get the message - I'll have to wait until it's posted, hey?" he laughed and swiveled my seat round. "Finish up and drink this. You are wired and need to calm down and get a good night's sleep." It was a cup of milky Horlicks. I grinned at him and shut down the computer. The diary could wait. I had a date with a cold bed, a hot man and some warm milk.