The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike) Part 977 by Angharad Copyright © 2010 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

Just bloody wonderful: now I have a shrink who thinks I’m angelic–well they’re all barmy anyway. I shrugged and set about getting the younger generation off to bed. By the time I’d finished–the last one was Julie–I was knackered and as I came downstairs to make my last cuppa of the night, Tom returned from his meeting.

Stella came in from the utility room, she’d been drying nappies in the tumble drier, “I like Stephanie,” she chuckled, “she’s as nutty as a fruit cake.”

“Aye, nutty as a dormoose dinner, according to ma dochter.”

“Oh yes, the Dumfries Dormouse counter.” I didn’t know why Stella had suddenly remembered I’d been born in Scotland.

“What has my place of birth to do with anything?” I asked feeling a bit defensive–Stella can be quite cruel when she gets going.

“Och, it means ye canna be a’ bad.”

“Very funny,” I responded to Tom.

“Weel it’s trew, lassie.”

“As my daughter seems to think I’m an angel, who am I to argue–especially when her psychiatrist seems to agree?”

“But we’re agreed she’s as barking as a bus load of spaniels.”

“Ye leave ma Kiki oot o’ this, she’s no barking.”

As if to prove him wrong; Kiki started to bark in the conservatory where she presumably wanted to go out. We both broke into laughter and Tom sullenly went off to deal with his dog.

“Why are you embarrassed about being Scottish?” asked Stella folding the last of the nappies.

“I’m not.”

“Not what–embarrassed or Scottish?”

“Both, I’m not embarrassed nor am I Scottish.”

“But if you were born there, surely you are.”

“No–loads of Brits were born abroad in places like Germany because their parents were in the army, they’re still Brits aren’t they, they’re not German.”

“Unless they want to be–dunno about the army, but if anyone is born somewhere to parents of a different nationality to that country, don’t they have dual nationality.”

“I don’t know and care even less. I’ve lived all my life except a few weeks in the beginning, in England. ’So God for Harry, England and St George.’

“Who d’you think you are? Kenneth Branagh?”

“Why, did he do Joan of Arc?”

“I hate to say this, but she was French.”

“I thought she was Noah’s wife.” I fought hard to keep my face straight.

“Noah’s wife? Eh?” she looked confused for a moment then began to laugh. “Wrong ark, you pillock.”

“I’m a pillock of the community,” I said proudly thrusting my chest out. Stella cackled like an old witch and plonking the basket of nappies down, ran off to the loo.

“Whit’s thae matter wi’ her?” asked Tom, being bustled out of the way as he came back to the kitchen.

“I think her sense of humour is stronger than her bladder.”

He chuckled, “Nivver become a professor, unless ye want tae be in meetin’s wi’ constipated ol’ farts, wha dinna hae tha brains they were born wi’. I’m gang tae hae a wee dram before I gang as crazy as them.”

“Good meeting then,” I smirked at him.

“Och, yer scunner.” He went into his study to pour himself a glass. Have I mentioned he has one of those large globe things, which opens to reveal bottles of booze and some glasses. They were popular in the seventies I think. I switched on the kettle and pulled out two mugs from the cupboard.

“Are you making tea?” Stella asked, returning to the kitchen to collect her nappies. They’re not actually her nappies, they belong to Puddin’ although Stella bought them, so I suppose they are hers but it’s Puddin’ who wears them. I’m glad I cleared that up.

“I’ve got a mug for you,” I replied.

“Good-o, be back in a sec.” She ran off to put the nappies in the airing cupboard. Have I mentioned the airing cupboard? It’s quite large, like a walk in closet with shelves on both sides and the hot water tank at the end. It also has one of those wooden drying rails suspended from the ceiling.

I made the tea and poured two mugs, then sat at the table to drink mine. Stella came back first and sat with me, “I think you may have company tonight.” She smiled benignly, which was probably the opposite to her tone.

“Which one is it?”

“The big one.”

“I’m not surprised, I think Stephanie stirred up as much as she sorted.”

“They do sometimes–you know doctors, the more pain, the greater the gain.”

“In psychiatry, I’d have thought that was completely wrong–in fact in most medical situations.”

“Can you have a medical situation–apart from employing a doctor?”

“Well treatment or therapy or whatever they call it–you’re the nurse, you should know.”

“Medical procedure, perhaps?” she virtually crowed. Much more of this and I’ll feed her to the dormice.

“Poo, I’ve forgotten what we were talking about now.”

“So’ve I,” she laughed and I did too.

“I’m glad ye twa can find thae energy t’ laugh.”

“Well we haven’t been with a dozen dry as dust professors, have we?” I offered.

“Jest eleven o’them we’re dry as dust, I’m weel moisturised, I’ll hae ye ken.” That cracked both of us up and I went to bed still chuckling at Tom’s Edinburgh accent talking about being moisturised. Does that make him a wet?

I cracked open my bedroom door and Julie was fast asleep in my bed. I changed into my pyjamas and cleaned my teeth as quickly and quietly as I could and slipped into bed. I left the bedside lamp on as I tried to concentrate on my book, but my mind was flitting to the next day and also to the softly breathing form lying next to me.

Tomorrow Maureen would be back, she’d been off organising stuff for some of the banks most of the weekend. I suspect she would be glad of the money which Henry would arrange to pay her, quickly being aware of her financial predicament. If she was going to get in thirty hours for me this week, she’d need to work pretty well full time for the next four days. That’s for her to sort out, I have enough on my plate.

I switched off the light, then nearly jumped out of bed–it was Livvie’s birthday at the weekend. I’ll have to get her presents from the others and Simon and myself. I knew what I’d be doing tomorrow–more blessed shopping. She could do with a new watch, so maybe I’ll get her a nice one, but not too nice–it’s only likely to get stolen or lost. She could also do with a new school bag and some new trainers. Must get her a card and some wrapping paper, too.

I was nudged out of my reverie by a funny noise. I stopped to listen and discovered it was a sob coming from my left. I switched the light back on, Julie was fast asleep but she was sobbing.

I stroked her head and told her she was safe and secure with me. It took a little while but she eventually reverted to ordinary sleep and the crying stopped. Perhaps it was just as well she had come to sleep with me. This poor kid has undergone so much trauma in her short life–I hoped and prayed that she might be spared the PTSD that could occur from it all, and tried to send the blue light into her dreams to make them restful ones which would help her forget the problems she’d had. I wasn’t confident it would work, but I knew it would do no harm.

I was sending her love when I fell asleep myself, because I awoke a couple of hours later with the bedside light still burning and a stiff neck.