The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike) Part 1726 by Angharad Copyright © 2012 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

I asked Stella to collect the girls, I felt I couldn’t leave Jacquie, and Sammi didn’t have a licence. She tutted, Stella always does, but she did go and get them while Sammi looked after Pud and Fiona, Catherine was in with me being breast fed while Jacquie made us a cuppa. She looked worn out, mind you I felt like that too, so how I was going to cope with three more mouseketeers and Danny, I had no idea.

As it turned out, the computers went down for some reason and Sammi and Trish, aided and abetted by Livvie and Danny spent an hour getting the system back up and running. Somehow it kept them all amused, as Mima played with Puddin’ and Fiona and I was able to keep an eye on Jacquie, not that she was in my view a danger to herself, she was to o tired for one thing–and I suspect despite her low self esteem, she was a fellow survivor.

She went for a short lie down and I asked Trish to keep an eye on her while I made the dinner. I did coq au vin as we had a spare bottle of wine, and everyone likes it. It pretty well cooks itself in the oven and once I’d got the veg done, I could have a little sit down myself–I felt completely drained and my eyes were hurting–I think they wanted to close for an hour or two. So on the pretext of planning a lesson, I went to my study and fell asleep at my desk.

Sammi woke me an hour later, and it took me a while to work out where I was, or who she was. “Where’s Jacquie?” I demanded.

“She’s okay, she’s making you a cuppa–she said she thought you were wonderful.”

“Obviously a woman of taste,” I joked but it was nice feedback and better than hearing she’d topped herself.

“I happen to agree with her.”

“Only because you want a lift to work tomorrow.”

“Nah, I’ll catch the bus, it runs practically past the door of the bank and directly past here–couldn’t have been better if I’d arranged it myself.”

“How d’you feel about the job?”

“I’m a bit anxious, naturally, but I think it’s amazing that I’m going to be on the payroll as a woman. I can’t really believe it, but if I pinch myself much more often I’ll be covered in bruises.”

I smiled at her. “I’m sure you’ll be fine, remember they’re as scared of you as you of them. Most of them won’t have knowingly met a transsexual anyway, and they won’t think it’s you, you’re far too natural and too pretty.”

“Thank you, Mummy, and I mean thank you–but for you, I’d still be sat in my room fretting.”

“I know the feeling.”

“Really?”

We spent the next few minutes with me recollecting my time at the bedsit, the neighbours I had and the campaign of poison pen letters and the attempt on my life which Tom and the police marksman prevented.

“So it was his secretary all the time?”

“It would seem that way.”

“That must have been frightening?”

“It was.”

“You certainly get into some scrapes don’t you?”

“I have done–how d’you know all that.”

“You have a website.”

“I have a what?”

“A website, ‘Cathy Cameron–an unusual specimen,’ it’s called.”

“Who the hell has put that up?”

“I thought you had?”

“It’s the first I’ve heard of it.” I rose from my desk and stormed into the lounge where Trish and Livvie were doing their homework. “What’s this about a website?”

“What website’s that then, Mummy?” asked our resident genius.

“Sammi has told me that there’s a website about me.”

“Nothing to do with our website, Mummy; is it Liv.”

“Nope.”

“Your website–since when have you had a website?” This was all news to me.

“Oh it’s nothing special, just a bit of fun, really, but I thought I’d get some practice in–so I did one for Liv as well, and Meems.”

“You did one for Mima? What does she want a website for?”

“To post her blogs.”

“What?” I pushed my hair out of my eyes more as an expression of exasperation than anything else–it was probably kinder than tearing it out, which was what I was feeling. “Show me,” I demanded and they both fell about laughing.

“What’s so funny?” I almost spat at them I felt so angry.

“Your face, Mummy–we haven’t got a website, Daddy made us take it down.”

“What? Why didn’t he tell me?”

“We–um–asked him not to, because we knew you’d be upset.”

“But this website purporting to be about me, that’s not a joke is it?”

“Dunno, haven’t seen it,” Trish said and with Sam’s help found it in moments.

I watched the picture emerge–it looked as if I had a huge ego, the way it was constructed. There was a page on crime fighting and my exploits, up to and including the bike shop episode. It showed me as a heroine saving the baby from the burning car and the old lady from drowning.

“How do we get it taken down?” I asked Sammi.

“You usually contact the site and say you’re unhappy about it and would they take it down, or failing that speak to the host site.”

“What if they refuse?”

“I don’t think they can if you can prove you didn’t post it or give permission–oh and threaten to sue–that usually helps.”

There appeared a page about my stint as an actress and newspaper reviews, whoever was doing it certainly knew a bit about me, although, there was a link to my dormouse activities, there was nothing about the clip on You tube, and there was no mention of my previous life or sex. Surely if they knew me as well as the website shows they must, then they must also know about my earlier life.

“Sammi, could you contact the site and ask them to take it down.”

“I’ll try, want me to ask the host?”

“Yes please, oh and threaten to sue if they don’t–with my name behind such a threat they should comply.”

“Okay, Mummy, I’ll get straight on to it.”

I suddenly realised I had a stalker and gave an involuntary shiver.