You know that feeling you get at times; an inexplicable sense of foreboding?  You shake it off, telling yourself to grow up and to be quick about it.  After a few deep breaths and again, you tell yourself you can do this and walk out, head held high, trying to look confident.  Yeah?  You have been there too?  Well, I felt as confused as that on a day when it was not going to go smoothly; in fact, I never wanted a repeat performance.

That morning, the weather forecast girl on TV said.

 “Be prepared for storms.”

Being a woman of independent thoughts, I ignored her.  To be fair, the sky at that stage was a beautiful blue, and fluffy white clouds danced their way around a beaming sun. It appeared that way, though the climatologists may tell you otherwise, but… oh well, each to their own.

I let my protective hero, the two-year-old toy poodle called “Spud”, out.  He sniffed and walked about doing what poodles do, but he wanted inside mighty quickly because the wind had sprung up.  Irritated, I did as bid, opened the door, called him a chicken, and proceeded to write the shopping list.  After all, it was shopping day, and I had a mile of stuff to get as the family was coming over at the weekend, and whatever my title was to them individually, collectively, nothing short of a banquet at each meal would suffice.

I went out in my dependable shoes and looked up at the sky. Hm! I went back indoors, retrieved my coat, scarf, and favourite umbrella, and left. Fortunately, there were only a few folk in the shopping centre, fewer still in the supermarket. I did not think to wonder why.

My favourite cashier was on duty, and she waved at me, smiling.

“Hi, Paula,” she said.

“Hi, Danni,” I replied, but I did not stop to chat.

Choosing a trolley without those disgustingly sluggish wheels that take every ounce of your strength as you meander up and down the aisles was a challenge.  Still in “La La land”, I did not think it likely that there would be many traffic jams negotiating ponderous shoppers or older ladies much shorter than me, asking for help to get something they needed from a shelf that was clearly beyond their reach.

In essence, I was so busy being me, the most important gal on the planet, that I did not notice that clouds were gathering and Danni and her colleague were pushing a mile of groceries and customers through the registers at a rate of knots. Nor did it occur to me that dark clouds were developing to bring about “Stormy Weather”.  Eventually, I did wonder why there was no one at the checkout; in fact, no one about.  Were the staff on an afternoon break? No, they were getting homeward bound.

Irritated once again, I yelled, “Oh, Pickles!” expecting to hear someone reply:

“You will find them in aisle 10 beside the cans of tomatoes; I will get them for you.”

Instead, I heard the crash of broken glass, fortunately at the other building, but no one else was in sight.  The lights flickered, and oh, horrors, I heard a child’s bleat.

“Don’t tell me I’m stuck in here alone, or worse, stuck in here with a kid and no mama goat.” the thought really thrilled me no end.

“Mummy.” the plaintive bleat.

 “Mummy?” a little louder, then:

“MUMMY’ oh, the sobs.

“MUMMMYYYYYY.” indeed it was panic.

Then I saw him running towards the door. I ran after him, grabbed his little hand.

“No honey, you’d be better off staying with me.”

“Don’t wanoo, want Mummy.”  he tried to break free, but I held his hand tighter.

“Where is she?” his eyes were blazing; naturally, it was my fault.

“I don’t know, but you can’t go out there, you will fall, see?” I pointed out the window.

 “It’s raining, and it’s too dangerous.”

“Want Mummy now.” he stamped his little foot.

Oh, kid, so do I; I’m feeling shaky, and I have to be brave for you.  If only Mummy, bless her cotton socks, would materialise, but alas!

It was getting cold, and just before we lost the little emergency lighting available, I wandered with my new friend to the “all-electric” section, found a torch like the

one I had at home, some batteries, which I inserted, and woosh, there was light.

“What’s your name?” I asked him as I worked.

“Paw,” he said.

“Paw?”   l must have looked a little stupid.

“Oh, you mean Paul?”

He nodded.

“That’s funny,” I said. “My name is Paula.”

Pawa.” he laughed. “The same. Where Mummy?”

I looked at my watch. It was three thirty. Oh, dear, I parked the car at three o’clock.

“Paul, what is that chain you have on your jeans? Is there a message? What does that say?”

“Mummy mobile,” he replied.

“Mummy’s mobile number?”  he nodded. 

“Can I see it?"

I bent down to his height, dialled the number no signal of course. How would it look anyway?

 “Oh, excuse me, my name is Paula Proud. I have your son, Paul. No, I have not kidnapped him; we’re at…  Lady, do I sound like a…”

Still no signal.

“We will try again soon, pet,” I said, putting my phone in my pocket.

Leaving the groceries in the trolley, I asked.

“Would you like some milk?”

Paul nodded.  I took him by the hand, found the by now sort of refrigerated items, chose two small cartons of milk and an iced coffee for me, picked up some Smiths potato chips and chose an outdoor setting with a horrific price tag away from the window. We sat together using the table.  I checked my watch, three forty. Great, it was going to be a long night:  no book, no phone signal, just a fretful toddler. Thrills!

Paul was tired.   I tried my phone again, but it did not budge.    I even tried the emergency number, but no signal meant no signal. Where was my brain?

“Mummy!” he was near tears.

“We’ll find her, I promise. I won’t hurt you, darling; I’m here with you. Let’s look after each other.”

Poor little beggar, he was wide-eyed and a little calmer.

I thought of the calm Aunt Paula, who looked after her sister’s kids. It was so easy—put the TV on or a DVD. But here was a kid in need of a nappy change, clearly frightened, and me, the somewhat frightened and unlikely heroine, not knowing what to do.

The storm was worsening, the wind howled, and the snow was pelting against the glass.

“I’m cold, Pawa.” the plaintive voice sounded more trusting; poor kid, he did not have a choice, did he?

“Just a jiff,” I said.

I walked over to the nursery department, found a soft toy which I knew I’d end up buying anyway, and a soft blanket.  Oh, hell, why not buy two? It would do Spud   Double hell at this rate, Spud would need outside before I got home.  I could not get hold of anyone to take him out.

Paul was delighted with the soft bear and cuddled him. He felt better with the blanket around him; in fact, I believe he was tired enough to nap. It was evident that I needed to get nappies. What size? What age? What a dilemma!

Suddenly, a door opened.  Now I was really creeped out; how could I protect my new friend and fend off a potential intruder?  Too bad if he were handsome! Golly, I was going loopy.

“Paula? Is that you?” It was Danni, her mouth wide open resembling a dock gate.

“No, it’s James Bond. Who do you…? I thought, but no words came out.

On second thoughts, James Bond would have us out in a jiffy, complete with slight Scots or pukka English accent and a no-nonsense approach. But if it were Jethro Gibbs from NCIS at least he’d know how to deal with Paul even if I did have to change the nappy.

“Oh, it is you!  Thank God, I thought I’d be here on my own! Is this your kid? you did not come in with a kid…”

“Dannii, it’s me. I’m okay, thank you for asking. This is Paul, and he wants his Mummy.”

“Paul?” recognition swept over her face, and once again, her jaw dropped.

“Oh my gosh, this is the boss’s son.  She must have gone home.  Oh my gosh, what will I do? she’ll kill me.”

“I want Mummy; you nasty!” Paul stared at Danni with the contempt only a toddler could muster.

Suddenly, the lights went back on, the cash registers started to hum a merry tune, and the refrigerator lit up like a spaceship. I looked at my watch. It was four forty-five, and time had not stood still.

Mercifully, my mobile phone had a signal. Danni, reading my mind, tried to call the number I had rung earlier, which she recognised.

“Dora, it’s Danni. I’m at the store. Paul’s here.”  Dora’s concerned voice reverberated in the aisles.  Danni spoke again.

 No, another lady …yes, of course, she handed the phone back.

“My boss wants to talk to you.”

“Paula Proud speaking.” I listened to a very grateful Mummy.

“Yes, he’s been a good boy” I smiled at Paul.

 “Five minutes? Okay, want to speak to him?”

Paul’s eyes were like saucers as I placed the phone by his ear.

“MUMMY.” he smiled as he listened.

“Okay,” he said, handing the phone back

Soon, Dora arrived, hugged me, picked Paul up, hugged him and said:

“We need to get you home for a bath.  Paula, check to see if your car is ok; if not, I will get you and Danni home.” she smiled.

“Oh, yes, your shopping?  Um, if you leave it to me, I will fix this, pay the bill, and deliver tomorrow; after all, you have done looking after this little ...  well, you are not really a monster, are you darling?”

Great shopping delivered in the morning!  Oh well, the family would have to order pizza for once.  There was enough coffee and wine.  You would not read about it, would you? 

To make matters worse, Spud has not forgiven me yet, despite the new blanket. Typical spoiled pooch!