The Weekly Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 3241 by Angharad Copyright© 2018 Angharad

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I called David on my handsfree and asked him to collect the girls from school, which he was happy to do. I hoped to be back for dinner, as I couldn't think of any reason why I shouldn't save road works or accidents, or the car breaking down. Given that it had been serviced about two weeks ago, that shouldn't happen. I hate to think what it cost but Simon deals with the garage bills.

My drive up to Bathampton was uneventful though I'd forgotten about the toll bridge there, which is privately owned, by a charity I think, anyway, it's a listed building as is the tollhouse attached to it.

I crossed three bridges a little before the actual toll bridge, one over the by-pass, one over the railway line and on over the Kennet and Avon canal. While I waited, on what is literally, a one horse track over the bridge, I googled details of the bridge and discovered it was built in about 1872. I paid the toll, about a pound, and drove into Bathampton and the car park for the George. There were a few cars in there and the pub was quite busy inside but they found me a table and I ordered a soft drink and perused the menu.

I'd forgotten to ask David what he was conjuring up for dinner but as it was only half past twelve, I decided I'd have a proper pub-grub meal and ordered liver and bacon casserole, which came with mashed potato and mixed vegetables. Then I spotted the tuna jacket potato, but it was too late and I suspect my mercury levels are high enough, so continued to sip my pineapple juice and answer some queries that Diane had sent via my phone. I'd just finished the last of these when lunch appeared.

Why is it, that either the phone rings or some other interruption happens when you're on the loo, in the shower or about to eat? I'd just looked over my meal and unwrapped the cutlery from the paper napkin, when a voice assailed me. "Lady Cameron, it is, isn't it?"

I suppose I could have ignored or denied it, but it was Mark Storeman from UWE, that's the University of the West of England, where I have done little jobs from time to time. He sat opposite me and we shook hands, he declared that my meal looked good enough to eat and ordered the same for himself. Any plans I had for a quick bite and departure now looked increasingly unlikely.

"So what brings you up this way?" he asked.

"I'm visiting an old friend of my father's who's in a hospice near here."

"Oh bad luck. I just wondered if you were chasing the job in Bristol."

"Bristol?" my eyebrows involuntarily rose.

"Yeah, Professor of Biology."

"Uh no, I didn't even know it was vacant." I was quite shocked, Steve Harris had been there forever and I expected him to stay there for a similar time. I'd done radio programmes with him on mammals--he's an expert on urban foxes and badgers.

"Yeah, I didn't go for it, don't have enough published to run for it, and let's face it, that's what counts these days, isn't it? Number of published papers. How many have you done these days?"

I had no idea, but it was about one a year, usually co-written with colleague or post grad student, sometimes both or more. We did one on the polyandry of dormouse females and their mixed genetic broods. One female had five young, all by different fathers. Our co-authors were from the University of Munich and they could only match us with a female with four young sired by different dads.

"About twenty five so far, I think but that could be give or take a few either way."

"Not bad, given the mammal atlas took up so much of your time. How's Tom by the way?"

"He's fine, still spends half his life at the university and other in the garden. He loves his vegetable garden."

We continued in this way for about another half an hour and he glanced at his watch and said he had to go. We shook hands again and he rushed off to a meeting or something. If he said I didn't hear him, probably because I wasn't listening. The reason why was the entry of two rather striking people. The woman was in a dress which fitted where it touched and was absent in much of the front where her exposed breasts jiggled as she walked on stilt high stilettos. He was about six feet tall or possibly an inch or two more and had piercing blue eyes under a thick thatch of blond hair and matching beard. He wore a smart two piece dark blue suit but was tieless.

The way the waiters danced attendance was embarrassing but it eventually dawned on me that it was Burke Simmons and his latest wife. He changes them about once a year, I think this was number three or four. Certainly they attracted the attention of the whole place which was fine by me and after finishing my tea, I left, paying as I did so.

"Thank you, Lady Cameron," offered the girl behind the bar as I paid, but her eyes were on the vision in the blue suit and the walking wet dream accompanying him. I was just glad Simon wasn't with me because he'd have ordered a dessert to sit there longer and lust at her. Oh well, good luck to her, can't blame a girl for capitalising her assets and she most certainly was doing that all right.

The wind had risen just a little and I was glad to get back to my car. There was warm weather on the way, but today was a bit cool for June. I drove off towards the hospice and located it within about fifteen minutes. It was nearly two o'clock and I checked my hair in the mirror, refreshed my lipstick and spritzed some Coco.

The hospice was an old house which had been extended and that looked quite recent. I was admitted by a middle-aged woman who told me that Miss Longburton had finished her lunch and was ready to receive visitors. She also asked me not to stay too long as her patient was quite poorly and got very tired. I promised not to overstay my welcome.

Carol Longburton's room had a pleasant aspect, looking across a valley through which wound the River Avon, though I doubt she's be able to see it from her bed. I was introduced to a little wizened old lady who could have been anything from seventy to a hundred, but I suspected she was closer to the former. The cancer had not been kind to her, though at least she hadn't lost her hair, which was thick and as white as snow.

"Miss Longburton, this is Lady Cameron."

"Lady Cameron?" she looked perplexed.

"Derek Watts' daughter," I said before she asked me outright why I was there.

"Oh, couldn't he come himself? I'd so looked forward to seeing him again."

"I'm sure he would if he could but alas he died a few years ago, following a stroke."

"Ah, that's why he didn't answer the phone. I saw your mother's obituary in the paper, but not his."

"It was in there but you may have been away or otherwise occupied."

She shrugged. "I'm sorry he's gone."

"So am I," I added.

"Yes, I'm sure he was a super dad to you, wasn't he?"

I nodded hoping my eyes didn't betray me, if they did she didn't appear to notice.

"So how did Derek's little girl get to become a titled lady?"

"I married the man of my dreams and the title was included in the package."

She chuckled. "I'm glad you came, you have a wicked sense of humour."

"So Simon says, that's my husband."

"Lord Cameron?"

"Yes, his dad is Viscount Stanebury."

"The banker?"

"Yes."

"Goodness, you did well, my girl."

"I like to think that in becoming a professor of biological sciences at Portsmouth University, that I've done quite well in my own right."

"Professor? Goodness, all those titles," she gasped as I handed her one of my business cards. "Lady, professor and doctor." I blushed for a moment. "Poor Derek had none, but I'll bet he was proud of you, I know I would be."

I nodded, blushing furiously.

A carer brought her in a tray of tea and I accepted the offer of one as well. Hers was in a cup with a spout like children use and even then she struggled to drink it until I offered to help her.

"But yours will go cold," she protested but accepted my help, holding my hands in hers as I tipped the cup very gently towards her mouth. When she'd finished she looked at me and said. "You're a special person aren't you?"

"Am I?" I answered non committedly.

"Yes, when I held your hands I felt a strange sort of energy passing into me. At first I wondered what was happening, then I realised why you came."

"I told you, I'm, Derek Watts' daughter."

"But you're something else too, aren't you?"

"I am?" I gasped feeling unsure where this was going.

"Yes, I know I'm going to die and soon, but now I won't be afraid. I was terrified before but you, whoever you really are, have reassured me that I won't be alone. Thank you for coming, but I need to rest now." She closed her eyes and nodded off to sleep and I took my leave before anything was said about my visit.