The Bakers' Dozen

by Peter Dorney

Genres: Humor & Satire

Synopsis

Fish & Chip shop owners Do-Do and Ray Baker have run their popular outlet in Stockport, Greater Manchester, since getting married almost 20 years ago. There are no children in the marriage, just plenty of chips.

Like millions they buy tickets in the weekly UK Lottery draw and one cold, wet and windy Saturday night in March are amazed to get all 6 numbers needed for the top prize.

As they are the only winner the prize is over 66 million Pounds, after which all sorts of madcap events and experiences come their way...and the laughs roll out.

After 6 months the shattered couple leave on a Grand Oriental Tour - of countries, not carpets - and Do-Do ends up legless after painful foot reflexology in Bangkok. Ray has to piggy-back her to the river ferry and they end up back at their posh hotel with the patient in need of much care and attention...starting with a tall jug of G&T, well iced.

A flight from Phuket sees them next to a Thai lady-boy dancer who shares the secrets of gay Go-Go dancing success on the island. So captivating are his stories they don't notice the take-off, and are hardly aware of the landing.

The pair meet an English teacher lady on a flight to Siem Reap (Cambodia) and after visiting the failing orphanage she works at are totally taken with the 12 remaining kids - The Bakers' Dozen : or is it? They decide to help and more madcap fun evolves.

Note:The Red Triangle on the top right corner of the book cover is officially known as The Stockport Triangle. Twinned with The Bermuda Triangle it guarantees that anyone diving into this book will soon be awash with laughter that will leave them glowing for the next 100 years...at least!

Release date: August 27, 2017

Publisher: Pennine Singapore

Print pages: 232

Sample

Chapter 1

 

‘Ding!’

‘Stop playing with the shop door, will you? Horrible child.’ The fed-up mother requested.

 

‘Ding!’

 

‘Sauvignon, if you don’t stop opening the door I’ll put you outside in the cold and you can stay there till I’ve got our fish and chips order in my  hands.’

 

‘But I like it.’

 

‘Ding!’

 

‘Well I don’t, and you’re letting the cold in. Costing Mrs Baker a fortune  in heating you are, so just stop it. Now!’

 

‘Ding!’

 

‘That’s OK Tracy, she’s bored. Aren’t you Chardonnay? Stop for a while

 though, please.’ Chippie owner Do-Do Baker preferred peace and quiet

to ringing in the ears.

 

‘Sauvignon. Her name’s Sauvignon, not Chardonnay, Do-Do.’ ‘Oh yeah. I

know it’s a wine but keep forgetting which one. ‘But it’s taking so long.’ The child felt.

 

‘Ding!’

 

‘Cheeky too…pushing her luck rather.’ Do-Do felt as she wrapped the last order of what had been the usual busy Saturday evening.

 

‘That she is.’

 

‘Ding!’

 

‘Right. That’s it! You’re out.’

 

‘Ding!’ One for good luck.

 

The frustrated Mother pushed the wayward child out into the arctic

night. Even if it was s’posed to be spring right now.

 

‘You can stay out there till I’ve got the food off Mrs Baker. Just behave,  you awkward, wicked kid.’

 

‘But it’s freezing out here.’

 

‘Should have thought of that when you started all the bell ringing, shouldn’t you? Planning to get a job as a bell-ringer after you finish school, are you?’

 

‘But…’

 

‘Stay out there!’ The chip shop door shut, with another ‘Ding!’

 

‘Sorry about that, Do-Do, she’s been behaving badly all week. Must be

the change of jam flavour I’ve been putting on her dinner-time butties

to  take to school. Cause chaos to her exhaust levels, they do, so much so  she can’t find her way home some days.’

 

‘I think I’ve heard of that. How old is Burgundy now?’

 

‘Sauvignon, as in Blanc, is nine. Sometimes I think she needs the

heavy  hand of a father but who knows where he is, or his name even?’

 

 

The shocked chip shop owner looked at her customer, her face another blank. The customer leaned over the counter. Secrets about to be shared, it seemed.

 

‘Well,’ a pause as she looked both ways checking the landscape for nosy nearby listeners. All clear so on she went.

 

‘We met at a wine testing night a decade or so ago now. I love

Sauvignon Blanc and one bottle led to another, one grope led to

another, one slap-and-tickle led to another, and the whole thing led

to  little Miss Dingle Dangle out there.’

 

‘Goodness,’ Do-Do was shocked at such details.

 

‘Oh, I know. I never did get his name so the Father’s Name section on the birth certificate remains blank, like the wine. I did though remember  the first part of the wine’s name so called her Sauvignon. Quite nice, actually.’

 

Her shoulders shuddered in support of the opinion.

 

‘One out of two isn’t a bad success rate these days.’ Do-Do felt.

 

‘Oh, I know. I know.’

 

‘If my husband, Ray, had been in here for all the bell ringing he’d have  told your 9 year old that if she wanted to make it to 10 she’d better stop  - and quick.’

 

‘Best way. Kids these days, there’s no controlling them.’ Another shoulder shudder said it all.

 

The Best Plaice fish and chip shop stood on the end of a row of eight

shops offering a variety of day-to-day needs half a mile from Stockport  Market in Greater Manchester. The shop and living quarters are  downstairs, bedrooms and suchlike upstairs.

 

The owners, Do-Do and Ray Baker, had run the place since they married almost 20 years ago. The couple have no kids, plenty of chips, though which keeps them busy.

 

The chippie door opened again with the usual ‘Ding!’ and a little beanie covered head appeared.

 

‘What did I tell you?’ Her mother asked. Lips pursed tight as she warmed  up her built-in flame thrower unit.

 

‘Mum, it’s snowing. If you make me stay out here you’ll never find me

again in all the snowdrifts.’

 

‘Then I’ll have to eat all your chips as well as mine, won’t I? Not a problem as far as I’m concerned as I’m dead hungry. Now, get back out there.’

 

The wayward child looked distressed.

 

‘Take the door bell with you and ring it when you hear a rescue team getting close. Not too loud though as it’s gone ten already and lotso’ folk  are already in bed.’

 

‘Awww, i’nn’t that luvly?’ Do-Do led the thoughts as both ladies paused  to watch the curtain of snowflakes gently falling.

‘Shall I call grannie on my phone and ask her to bring her sledge and huskies down to give us a ride home? It’s getting slippy out here and we  could skid.’

 

‘You can if you like, good idea.’

 

‘Your mum has a sledge at home, and huskies?’ Do-Do checked. ‘She

does, but there’re only 4 huskies.’

 

‘Where do you keep them?’

 

‘We have an igloo in the back garden which they think is a kennel.’

 

‘Amazing, it must have taken ages to construct.’ Do-Do had loved Lego

for years.

 

‘Not too bad, the fridge churns out plenty of frozen cubes. Mum squeezes them all together over a few days and produces the igloo.’

 

Tracy knew all about frozen features, obviously.

 

‘But doesn’t it melt in summer?’ Do-Do was stuck to the icy spot.

 

‘Of course but the huskies drink the water and are fine. They widdle a

lot  for a while. Kills the grass but that can’t be helped. Funnily

enough none  of the dog-daisies die though.’

 

‘Maybe they feel a name connection to the dogs and have similar

survival genes.’

 

‘You might just be right, you know. Never thought of that.’  ‘So what

are the dogs names?’

 

‘Rover.’

 

‘And…the other three?’

 

‘They’re all called Rover.’