(aka Bike) Part 2039 by Angharad Copyright © 2013 Angharad
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I spent the rest of the day amusing my children, perhaps keeping them occupied might be a better description. They did their chores and homework, by which time I was home and bearing gifts–well, something from the bakery at my favourite supermarket–for everyone. I bought a dozen assorted cakes, keeping the one I wanted separate–an apple and fresh cream turnover. By writing my name on the bag, I was able to keep it for me–the rest of the cakes disappeared very rapidly behind now smiling mouths.
"Can we do a bike ride, Mummy?” asked Trish. I’d already done one and Danny had gone off on his bike to see Peter, so it as going to be a short slow ride for the girls. I agreed, going to change into something suitable to wear on my mountain bike plus some cycling shoes.
The girls all disappeared to change and they arrived in the garden giggling and laughing at something which I’d obviously missed. We checked over the bikes and I pumped up some tyres before we set off up the cycle path. I warned Trish that if she disappeared off the cycle path, I would lock up her bike for a whole year and her computer/iPad for a month. The look she gave me was not friendly.
The weather forecast wasn’t exactly friendly either and the stiffening breeze began to feel decidedly cool. Rain was forecast for later, but there wasn’t much sign of it yet. In fact we were home and eating dinner before the first drops of wet stuff happened, so out bike ride was uninterrupted except for an ice cream stop–no wonder I put on weight. We all had an ice lolly called a Mivvi, which contains ice cream in the centre of a fruity outer coat, I thoroughly enjoyed mine and hoped the weather would permit a ride again tomorrow, it looked unlikely.
The evening was spent doing some mending–Danny had come off his bike and bashed his knee. He got away with slight grazing the knee of his jeans taking the brunt, hence my patching of it. He wanted to keep the tear as they’re apparently very fashionable. I decided we’d do it my way and he could have a patch–either of matching material, ie denim, or a contrast patch. He opted for the latter and ended up with a bright red piece of cotton corduroy showing in his jeans. I tend to keep various bits of material for mending or sewing, though it’s so long since I did any I forgot just what I had in the box.
While I was in sewing mood I repaired some hems on Danny’s school trousers and one of Livvie’s skirts. I also stitched closed a small hole Trish had in her blazer sleeve. It looked like she’d caught in on something.
If I told Pippa I’d spent the evening sewing and repairing the children’s clothes she’d have called me a tightwad. I know we have plenty of money, but that isn’t the point. If the clothes can be repaired fairly easily and still fit, why buy new ones?
I was just finishing and my eyes were beginning to hurt a little when Julie spotted the sewing box. “Mummy, can you fix something for me?”
“I don’t know, can I?”
“Um–okay–would you fix it?”
“I still don’t know what it is you want fixed.”
“My favourite bra–the strap is broken.”
“Just that?”
“Well, I’ve got some other things that need mending...”
“Just the bra now–what colour is it?”
“Red.”
“Okay, go and get it, but that’s all I’m doing.”
“Okay.” She dashed off up the stairs and returned with the damaged garment.
The seam had split on the edge of the cup and the underwire was poking out. It only took about ten minutes to repair and she went and made me a cuppa as my reward. “I thought I taught you to sew enough to have repaired that,” I handed back the brightly coloured piece of lingerie.
“Yeah–well, you’re quicker and better.”
“Only because you never do any.”
“Why keep a dog an’ bark,” she sniggered and ran off before I could think of a witty retort.
“You spoil those kids,” said Simon sitting reading the Guardian at the kitchen table.
“She spoils us all,” declared Stella coming into the kitchen looking for some cream crackers.
“Mummy, can I have a word?” Phoebe looked quite serious.
“Certainly. I packed up my sewing box and went down to my study with her. “What’s worrying you?”
“It’s Neal.”
“Oh?”
“Glo sent me a text,” she showed it to me.
‘Hav u seen Neal? He went out after tea not back yet, not like him. Glo.’
“It’s so unlike her to send it to me and it’s so unlike him to wander off like that. I’m really worried.”
“Okay, flower, I saw him at work this morning, he wasn’t very happy–a bit jealous of the baby, I suspect.”
“He doesn’t like sharing people.”
“Have you replied to her yet?”
“No, I thought I’d speak to you first.”
“Send him a text see if he’s okay.”
“If his phone is switched off, that won’t work will it?”
“Okay, try calling him then.”
She did and it was obvious he wasn’t answering. “Get your coat,” I instructed her I went off to get mine.
“Where are you off?” asked Simon still sitting at the table accompanied by Stella who was eating cream crackers and cheese–it looked as if he’d already had some.
“Taking Phoebe to see Gloria, why?”
“Just wondered, that’s all.”
“We shouldn’t be too long.” A rather stupid statement to make since it said nothing at all.
At Neal and Gloria’s house, we got some more information. They’d had a big row after dinner and he’d stormed off. I tried to suggest he was jealous of the baby but she couldn’t see it. “I’m tired all the time an’ all he wants is bloody sex, babies are hard bloody work.”
“I know.” I acknowledged and Gloria gave me a very dismissive look.
“Cathy has breast fed a young baby too, Glo,” said Phoebe, challenging her sister in law’s attitude.
“It’s not just breastfeeding, it’s the disturbed nights an’ the rest of it.”
“Who d’you think did that with baby Catherine?” Phoebe was still protecting me.
“But...” Gloria looked at me. “You’ve got people there to help you.”
“I still do much of it myself.”
“More fool you then, if I had a houseful of servants, I wouldn’t.”
I reported that I’d bumped into him at the university that morning and told her we’d go and see if that’s where he was. He didn’t go down the pub according to Gloria, though that wouldn’t necessarily prevent him seeking solace in one tonight.
We both had a little hold of the baby and went off to the university and down to the labs and the technician’s room. Neal was there setting up some apparatus to check it. There was also a half empty bottle of rum beside him.
“Gloria is very worried about you,” I started.
“Yeah? So why isn’t she here, not you?”
“She doesn’t have keys or know the alarm codes any more does she?”
“So, she could have called me,” he pointed to his mobile.
“It’s switched off, stupid,” Phoebe laid into her brother.
“Yeah, to stop her phonin’ wasn’t it?”
“So how could she call you?” Phoebe was really going at him.
“So, I forgot–big deal.”
“C’mon, Neal, let’s get you home.”
“No point, I’ll sleep here.”
“That could get you sacked, Neal.” I cautioned him.
“Only if you tell them, bloody goody two shoes.”
“There’s a security man walks round every night.”
“He still here?”
“As far as I know.”
“Oh shit.”
“C’mon, let’s get you home,” I tried again.
“I gotta finish this apparatus.”
“Neal, you’re tight as a tick and half of it is upside down, c’mon out to the car–go home and sort out your relationship.”
“Bloody women,” he muttered as we almost frogmarched him to my Jaguar.
Comments
Good to see
Phoebe standing up to Neal and standing up for Cathy.
S.
Impressive, wasn't she?
It was great seeing Phoebe stand up for Cathy. Just like a good daughter should.
Having been through this three times, although my ex-wife slept like a rock and I always ended up being the one who got up with the babies, I think that I have a somewhat unique perspective.
I know what it's like to be too tired to do anything other than sleep and cope, and I've had to deal with my ex and her post partum depression, plus I have looked at this from both sides of the gender choice.
I guess that the nice thing was that in a way I had a chance or be a mother to my kids. Since my ex wasn't up to it, I fed, bathed, dressed, pampered, babied, and basically played mommy to my kids. I just wish that I had the opportunity to have been a real mother.
OK, now I'm depressed and crying.
Dallas
D. Eden
Dum Vivimus, Vivamus
Exactly how do Frogs march?
Do they do a bit of hipity hopity or do they stand on their back legs? Cor, I'd like to see that one, I would. :)
Gwendolyn
Frogs Marching
Hi Gwen,
Probably the expression was created as the English's criticism of the way the French, under their wee laddy, Napoleon, had his soldiers march. The history between France and England is full of wars, and the English claim to be bloody good at a) winning them and b) making up insults about their opponents. Napoleon had his soldiers march along the wrong side of the road. which is why France, and most of the countries they occupied or dominated or inflenced, plus a few who were just awkward and rebellious, like the USA, now drive on the wrong side of the road, and Britain, and most other countries in the world, drive on the left, which is the right side, obviously. Confused ? It gets worse !
To "frogmarch" someone is to have two soldiers, policemen, or other sort of bullies, one on either side of the poor unfortunate victim, take their arms and force them to walk with them somewhere the victim does not want to go to. According to British tradition, the French are very good at surrendering, and losing, wars, and are not particularly keen on fighting, so having someone half-dragged along is how they imagine the French would march. if they were unable to run in the opposite direction instead, as they would have prefered.
I hasten to add, that the above is what I was taught at school, in England, and is NOT MY opinion at all. I am partly French, lived outside the UK for 50 of my 75 years, married a German, have one of two daughters now living in France, and when asked about my race write either "Human" or "Alpha-Centaurian" on forms, which I do my utmost to avoid filling in altogether.
Briar
Cathy still likes her sweets a bit too much
The reality is that total calories, of any kind, is what causes weight loss but people manage to underestimate the caloric content of what they eat.
I join in praising Phoebe standing up to Gloria the bitch. She is not selfish but she is self-centered and tries to rationalize herself as the wronged party. This is not going to be pretty.
Kim
Frogs to NOT march ... they....
SING AND DANCE!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zK3Viecedhw
John in Wauwatosa Ribbit!
John in Wauwatosa
Both Gllisten and Neal need
to talk to Cathy or another adult before they do something that they'll regret.
May Your Light Forever Shine
For A Supposedly Brilliant Scientist...
Neal is a tad bit on the stupid side. He goes on about not getting sex from Gloria, but it doesn't occur to him that she might be more willing if he actually helped her with the baby instead of complaining about how the baby is taking time away from him. I'm glad Phoebe laid into him about it. He needed it! Sadly, I hear about other men having the same complaint after a baby is born and just like Neal, they don't ask themselves what they could do to help their wives? They just complain.
Saint Phoebe, of course it
would have been a miracle if Gloria had listened
Of ourse James ws much better with the twins than I was.
Sadly the Nymph in me was more about the next sex act than mothering. Though they do seem care about me quite a bit.
Goddess Bless you
Love Desiree
Solace in a bottle...
Never a good sign.
Surprised Neal's coherent after half a bottle of rum. Strikes me Neal's a bit immature if he's jealous of his own baby. I thoroughly enjoyed giving my two the bottle feed in the small hours of the morning but dearly wished I could have fed them properly from my own breasts though of course, I didn't have any then. Getting up at two or three or four a.m., never bothered me, I've been doing it most of my working life and even today I rise at fiveish.
The only things I was jealous of was my wife's ability to breast feed them in the morning and of course her ability to have a baby.
In my ideal world I suppose all humans today would be hermaphrodites and capable of both reproductive functions. That might not have worked with hunting mammoths and foraging for berries but nowadays there isn't that much difference between men's and women's work. Even the hard physical work is done mostly by machines or at least, it can be done by machine.
I can dream, can't I.
Bevs.
Good chapter Ang, as always and I'm still lovin' it.
x