Wuthering Dormice (aka Bike) Part 732 by Angharad

“Potatoes,” I sniffed wiping my eyes and nose.

“Potatoes?” Stella queried.

“Yes, I need to get them on to cook.”

“Come on then, I’ll carry on doing them, you go and wash your face before the girls see you’ve been crying.” I came back down ten minutes later and she was putting the spuds on to boil.

“Thanks for doing that,” I said, she seemed to have mellowed since she had Puddin’, sadly I didn’t have the same opportunity, although I did have the three girls who had transformed my life.

“You’re welcome, what are you doing with them?”

“I’ve got some salad stuff and cooked ham, I thought I’d do new potatoes with butter.”

“Very good for the figure and cholesterol,” she said smiling.

“Stella, your figure has come back really well.”

“Yeah, well yours has never been away, s’not fair that you can eat what you like and stay slim, except where you want a bit of meat.”

“I’ve had to go up pretty well a whole cup size.”

“So? I haven’t heard Simon complaining. Nor you for that matter.”

“I didn’t say I was complaining,” I laughed thrusting my chest out at her.

“Put ‘em away, Cathy, there’ll be enough fat on the cooked ham.” I decided that discretion was the better part of valour, and stopped my retort before it left my mouth.

I prepared the rest of the dinner while the spuds boiled, I felt quite at home in this kitchen nowadays, it was over a year since my mother had died and she’d only recently had it all refurbished. I know I could have had it done again, but I didn’t feel a need to stamp my name all over it, after all, I was the sole owner of it now.

“What happened to Des’ house, I wonder?” asked Stella.

“Um, you mean you didn’t hear?”

“No, I suppose he died before he changed his will. I was a bit disappointed that he hadn’t, and of course he didn’t know about Puddin’, did he?”

“I think Puddin’ will get something from it, when she’s older.”

“How do you know that?”

“A little birdy told me.”

“Who?”

“I can’t tell you that, it was given to me in confidence, but I was told that he’d left it for the children of the family.”

“I don’t believe you, your nose is growing…”

Even though I knew that was absurd I felt it all the same. “No it isn’t,” I threw back.

“You are lying, Cathy Watts.” She paused and then gave me a long hard look, “He left it to you, didn’t he?”

I went red and hot and spluttered, “I–I–can explain.”

“Judas,” she said and stormed off up to her room.

I felt my eyes fill with tears, I had meant to tell her yonks ago, but just how do you tell someone that the man they are intending to marry, says he loves you more? As Stella was in such a vulnerable state, I could hardly say anything, could I, nor was there a good time to break it – then it was all too late.

I went upstairs and knocked on her room, “Go away,” she called back.

“Stella, please I need to talk to you.”

“Go away, I have nothing to say to you.”

I pushed open the door, she was sitting on the bed her head in her hands. “I want you to listen and then if you still feel angry with me, that’s fair enough.”

“I don’t want to listen….” she sobbed, “I feel betrayed….”

“You weren’t, Des had a crush on me from day one. Why I don’t know?”

“You were prettier than me….”

“No I’m not. Anyway, he did and try as he would I wouldn’t accept his advances and for some reason that seemed to make me different.”

“Different -- ha, that’s a bloody laugh, isn’t it. Of course you’re different, you’re a bloody boy.”

Her comment cut through me like an arrow and I felt a combination of sick and hurt. “Yeah, that’s what I am, a bloody boy. Thanks for stating your real opinion of me, instead of all that bullshit earlier.” I walked out of her room closing the door behind me and went to my own room. I felt numb, it was worse than feeling hurt or angry. It felt as if the pain was so great that my body and mind couldn’t cope with it at all and so completely dissociated from any sensation. My immediate thought was to kill myself and be done with all this nonsense – how can anyone change sex, it’s absurd, not to mention impossible – how could I delude myself? Worse, how could I allow Trish to make the same stupid mistake?

I looked at my watch, it was nearly six, the girls needed feeding – well two girls and a boy. I washed my face yet again and went down to feed them.

“Are you okay, Mummy?” Trish asked.

What I wanted to say was – ‘No, I’m bloody well not alright and don’t call me mummy, I’m not your bloody mother.’ What I actually vocalised was, “I’m alright, sweetheart, just got a bit of a headache.”

“Can we help make you better?”

“I think you already have, sweetheart. Wash your hands and you can lay the table.”

“Okay, Mummy, I know where it’s all kept.” She went off to the cloakroom to wash her paws.

“You bin cwyin’, Mummy?” said Meems as she hugged my leg, it was like having a sex-starved dog at times.

“Only with my headache, and that’s passing now.”

“I’s gwad, Mummy.”

“Yeah, so am I, darling. Come on, you can help me wash some lettuce.” I made her wash her hands too, and left her drowning an Iceberg.

“What can I do, Mummy?” Livvie presented herself.

“After you’ve washed your hands you can get some drinks for the three of you.” Which is what she did.

“Shall I lay a place for you and Auntie Stella, Mummy?” called Trish.

“Not just yet, sweetheart, we may eat later, she was feeling a bit off colour as well.”

“Oh dear, poor Auntie Stella,” Trish quipped. I looked at her, she was as girlish as the other two, not exaggeratedly so. She looked and acted like a girl. Part of me remembered my rant to myself from earlier, provoked by Stella’s nastiness, yet it seemed so inappropriate. This child was a girl, pure and simple – despite what her biology might say, she was as much a girl as the other two. She also looked to me for protection, the world was going to be a mean and nasty place for someone who was different, and I had given my word to support her as much as I could as long as she was dependent upon me. I couldn’t go back on that, that would be dishonourable and a betrayal of trust on so many levels–it would have been unforgivable, in fact, unthinkable.

I had responsibilities which I had to honour, why should these three mites be disadvantaged because of a stupid spat between two silly women. Yes women. I cared not what Stella said, I was a woman – I accept, a somewhat vulnerable one, but her brother loved me, well until a day ago, and my children needed me, and they loved me without conditions. And as the tears streamed down my face, I knew I loved them too, as their foster mum.