The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike) Part 1123 by Angharad Copyright © 2010 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

“D’you think Danny is okay?” I asked Simon when we were in bed that night.

“How d’you mean?”

“Is he happy here?”

“As much as any eleven year old adopted child can be, why?”

“I wonder if we’re failing him.”

“How–he gets all he needs plus some, loads of kids get less.”

“He doesn’t get as much of our attention as he’d like.”

“None of ‘em do, Babes; let’s face it apart from that little baggage over in the corner, none of them do, they’d all have your undivided attention all day long if they could.”

“I know that, darling, but he seems to come off worst much of the time: the girls are easier to cater for because it’s almost like dealing with a herd of them, whereas he’s alone much of the time.”

“He’s got Tom here if he wants a man’s company, and I’m here at weekends–soon to be most nights.”

“Most nights? I thought you’d be home every night?”

“If I’m home every night, how am I supposed to see my piece of fluff.”

I sat up and hit him, “Your what?” I said loudly, hitting him again for good measure.

“Ouch, I was only joking–stop hitting me–ouch.”

“You rat–that’s not a joke,” I spat and hit him again.

“Ouch, stop it,” he grabbed my hand, pushed me flat on my back on the bed and began to lie on top of me.

“Get off, you big lump,” I complained while he attempted to kiss me. Obviously his plan was to indulge in a play fight culminating in a quick bit of passion–however, his planning and application were slightly adrift and he either leant too far over or I’m stronger than he thought, because a moment later he ended up lying on his back on the bedroom carpet.

“Do you realise that is about the second or third time you’ve knocked me out of bed?” he said after getting his breath back.

“Is it, if you’ve woken the baby, it could go up to four times,” I asserted.

“Is that a threat, missus?”

“I’d have said it was more of a promise.” I stopped talking almost holding my breath as a couple of soft whimpers emanated from the carrycot. They stopped a moment later.

There were a few more a minute later and I got out of bed to see if she’d lost her dummy, she had and I checked it for fluff and popped it back in her mouth, she sucked on it hard for a few seconds and seemed to settle back off to sleep.

“Is she alright?” asked Simon who continued to sprawl on the floor.

“Look, if you’re going to play at rugs, shouldn’t you be lying on your stomach?” I observed.

“Gee thanks, never mind the fact that I’ve fractured half my ribs and vertebrae.”

“Si, if you’d even bruised a few ribs you’d be rolling about in agony.”

“Some of us are simply born tougher than others.”

“And more stupid,” I said to myself.

“And more–what, did you say?”

“I was agreeing with you, darling, you know as your little woman, I always do.” I said and fell onto the bed giggling.

I heard him getting up off the floor, “My little woman–my arse. You’re the most argumentative baggage I know.”

“Meee? I’m not,” I continued laughing, “I’m a good girl, I am.”

He leant over me and began to tickle me, that was it–I squealed and giggled helplessly, trying to struggle to get off the bed because I was in danger of wetting myself–which was when my foot accidently made contact with his nether regions and he groaned then disappeared from view.

Initially I didn’t realise what had happened, then finally managing to sit up I saw him rolling about on the bedroom floor holding his groin. “What’s the matter?”

“You kicked me, you silly cow, that’s what.”

“I kicked you? Did I? Oops. Sorry about that–but you know I don’t like being tickled.”

“I do now, shit, this hurts.”

“Here let me help you up,” I offered him a hand, whereupon he grabbed me and pulled me on top of him. “Works every time,” he declared perhaps a moment too soon, because as I fell my knee caught him fair and square in his nadgers and this time there was no play acting, his rolling about trying to breathe was real. Naturally, being concerned, I couldn’t move for laughing and my bra having slipped in the struggle, he had milk running down his face, which made me laugh even louder and is what finally woke the baby up.

I quickly helped Simon up and then went to the loo, finally picking up tiny wee and feeding her. While he was a bit sore, a bruise was beginning to show, he had the last laugh. He took a pain killer and went back to bed and sleep, whereas I was still feeding my brat half an hour later, because she’d suck twice and go to sleep, but woke immediately if I tried to put her back down in her cot.

I have no idea what time it was when I got back to bed, I was shattered and slept almost as soon as my head touched the pillow.

”Unless you start behaving, Danny, you give me no alternative but to send you back to the home.” I was giving him what for. He seemed older and much bigger, towering over me by two or three inches and much broader. He’d been smashing the place up–mainly his own stuff, but his room would need redecorating again. This was the second time he’d smashed up his room.

“Well let this stress you, then.” He picked up a chair and threw it at me. I felt it hit my head and it threw me backwards down the stairs...

“Stop struggling, Babes, it’s just a bad dream.” I heard Simon’s voice and I relaxed. “Come on wake up, you’re okay, just a bad dream.”

“Oh, it was horrid,” I said sobbing against him, “I must make more effort with Danny or we’re going to have trouble with him.”

“Hey, Babes, I’m here now, I’ll see he’s okay–promise, scout’s honour and all that.”

“You weren’t in the guides,” I mumbled and slipped back into sleep.