Easy As Falling Off A Bike pt 953.

Wuthering Dormice
(aka Bike)
Part 953
by Angharad

We donned our coats, and clutching an umbrella that threatened to turn inside out at any moment, I showed Maureen around the yard. Bearing in mind this is an old farm house, some of the original outbuildings survive. An old barn, where Tom used to keep his old Land Rover, four garages, which used to be storage or stables, and a few sheds.

She suggested what we could do, to tidy up several of the buildings–most of them are stone or brick–it hasn’t been a farm for a long time, but there are still fields around it which Tom owns, although they’re leased by a neighbour. The orchard survives, although it’s in need of some TLC–but that will be a job for Leon, once we get the rest of the garden sorted.

Maureen pointed out the greenhouse was on its last legs, but she could probably sort that with some additional strengthening. I took the point on board.

“Right you’ve seen how dilapidated things are–do you fancy trying to sort them? I did warn you it’s not exactly women’s work–but these days, we girls do more or less what we want–even fly with the Red Arrows.”

“I’d love to work for you.”

“Even though it might play havoc with your manicure?”

“Despite that–an’ I can always wear gloves.”

“I knew you could. Now we need to talk terms.”

“Before we do, ma’am, might I say what a lovely family you have.”

“Hmm, I hope this isn’t an attempt to get me to offer more money,” I joked but Maureen blushed.

“No, of course not–almost anything’s got to be better than what I get from the social.”

“Well despite being from a banking family, this house belongs to Professor Agnew, who is both my boss and my unofficial adoptive father–so we’re not made of money.”

“I understand.”

“I thought maybe I could offer twenty hours per week at ten pounds per hour. Interested?”

“Definitely, I could pay off some of my debts eventually and maybe improve my wardrobe a bit more–I’m tired of charity shops, especially being this size, although one or two of them keep stuff back for me now. I suspect they feel sorry for me.”

“I’m not doing this out of sympathy, it’s because I need the work done and I thought you might do a better job than some cowboy builder.”

“I’m not a builder though, ma’am–so if you’d prefer to engage one of those, I’d understand.”

“I’m possibly not making myself clear here, I assumed someone with a Royal Naval background and working in the shipyard would provide you with a number of practical skills. Am I right so far?”

“I s’pose so, ma’am.” She looked at the ground and blushed.

“So, could you do the work?”

“Most of it, I think, ma’am.”

“Is the money, okay?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Can you do twenty hours?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“What about thirty hours–or is that too much?”

“Some weeks I could, would depend upon the job I was doin’ and materials.”

“We’ll provide the materials, naturally.”

“Sure, I can do it then.”

“When can you start?”

“When do you want me to?”

“Have you any things you need to sort out first?”

“Nothin’ that would take more than a few days, ma’am.”

“Good–oh, I lied, it’s thirty hours a week.”

“That would really help me sort out my finances.”

“Might be worth talking with Simon about that–he knows the local bank people better than I do, they might be able to cobble together a single loan to pay things off. If you’ve used your credit card–it gets expensive–I know, I was a student.”

“I didn’t think they gave ‘em to students?”

“Um–we did a fiddle, it was nominally my dad’s, my real dad’s, and he used to pay it off but I had to pay him back. So I had to watch what I bought and how much debt I ran up–at times it was really hard.”

“Have I seen your picture at the bank, ma’am?”

“With a dormouse?” I asked–now it was my turn to blush.

She nodded.

“Yes, that was me–they used the pictures before they asked me, I was furious.”

“I can appreciate that. Was that you who did the documentary on dormice?”

“Guilty as charged, I study them for a living–when I have time.”

“It was a lovely programme–anyone could see you love them critters.”

“I do have a soft spot for them.”

“You teach at the university, do you?”

“Supposedly–although I’m on secondment to the bank and Defra, to make another film–harvest mice, this time. Haven’t even scripted it yet.”

“How do you manage with all the children–I didn’t see no hired help.”

“With difficulties, at times. Sadly, I don’t have much chance to ride either.”

“You got an’orse?”

“Good lord no, a bicycle–I ride bikes.”

“I used to love me bike, before I joined up like.”

“Would you like to see mine?”

“Yes please.”

I led her to the garage which is my bike shed and workshop, she was suitably impressed.

“Whose is the workshop, yer ’usband’s?”

I laughed, “Simon would have problems repairing a puncture, this is my space and they all know to let me be while I’m in here.”

“Cor, lovely bit o’kit. Park tools, too. An’ you do wheel truin’ as well?”

“Occasionally I have to repair a wheel or build a new one.”

“This is bloomin’ good, innit? A woman who knows ’er way round a workshop. I like that, ma’am.”

I blushed again–“My father’s influence, when we rode I had to do my own repairs, he showed me, then I had to do it. I’ve branched out a bit since then, used to help in a bike shop and they taught me a few new tricks.”

“It’s good for girls to learn about doin’ things themselves, makes ‘em less dependent on boys.”

“I think we’re going to get on fine, Maureen.”

“Me too, ma’am.”

We walked back into the house just as Julie was having a tantrum. “Look at it–it’s bloody ruined...”

“What is?”

“This MP3, the stupid thing broke off.”

“This, Maureen, is Julie.”

“Hello Julie,” she said.

Julie looked at her and then at me but only said, “Hi.”

“Have you got the bits?” I asked and Julie placed them in my hand not too gently. Some sort of lug had broken off where she inserted her headphones.

“Might I see that?” Maureen asked holding out a large hand. I passed her the bits.

“Did I see a soldering iron in your workshop?”

“Yes, yes you did.”

“I think I might be able to repair it.”

“You can?” said Julie loudly, “can you try?”

“What, like now?” asked Maureen.

“Well yes, my life will be over without my music.” Julie always was a bit of a drama queen.

“If your mum, says it’s okay to use her stuff.”

“Of course, but don’t let her talk you into things.”

“I’m not–an’ it shouldn’t take too long”

I handed them the key and watched them set off together to my workshop.

They were gone about half an hour, I was a little worried, wondering if Maureen had perhaps killed Miss Stroppy and was burying her under my workshop–I mean the smell in the summer would be awful, wouldn’t it?

I walked over to see what was happening. “Everything alright?” I asked walking into the garage.

“Yeah, me an’ Maureen was just talkin’, is that like okay?”

“Certainly, did you manage to fix her player?” I asked Maureen.

Before Maureen could answer, Julie interrupted–“Yeah, good as new, brill in’t she?”

“I’m sure she is. Right, I’m making some tea, it’ll be ready in ten minutes.”

“Okay, Mummy.”

“Right y’are, ma’am.”

I walked back to my kitchen lost in thought. “Penny for ’em,” said Simon, looking for the corkscrew.

“Julie was worried about meeting Maureen, until she broke her player thingy–Maureen fixed it and they’re both over there chatting like old friends.”

“Probably good for both of them. Do they know about each other?”

“Well, it’s pretty obvious about Maureen, but I don’t know if Julie has told her about herself.”

“I suppose that’s up to her, isn’t it?”

“Entirely, but I do wish she’d tell me first, so I know what’s going on. What do you want the corkscrew for anyway?”

“Well, I reckon I’ll know I’ve had enough when I start to fancy Maureen.”

“Simon, you are rotten–R-O-two tees and a-ten.”

“Where does that come from?”

“Eyeore or piglet, I think.”

“I shoulda guessed.”