Wuthering Dormice (aka Bike) Part 829 by Angharad

Simon’s crabbiness lasted until bedtime, he pretended he didn’t hear Tom say goodnight. So I immediately became crabby with him. Two could play at that game. I may be one of Santa’s little helpers, but I could also play one of the Seven Dwarves–Grumpy.

Henry had gone up to bed feeling very well indeed, or so he said, so who was I to argue. He’d spent half an hour talking to Sir George on the phone comparing notes–their experiences were very different–like duh! What did they expect? A conveyor belt?

I sat at my computer on the kitchen table dealing with some emails–Erin had sold the Dormouse film to two more countries for twenty thousand pounds–it meant they could show it as often as they liked, but they could only translate the English into another language not re-edit it. Anyway, it meant I’d be ten grand better off in a few weeks. I could do with some good news.

Alan had also been in touch saying he’d been looking for potential harvest mouse sites and had two so far. At the moment the thought of writing and narrating another film was not closest to my mind. I sent replies and deleted a dozen spams that had got past my ISP. Why would I want Cialis or Viagra? I didn’t know, and as far as Simon was concerned, if he turned down my advances–I knew he was either ill or two timing me. The last thing Simon needed was an aphrodisiac–perhaps a cold shower now and again, but certainly not a chemical stimulant.

Stella came and sat with me and we had a cuppa together–I seemed to drink gallons of tea these days, and the others seemed happy to join me. I thanked her for looking after the girls while I was otherwise occupied and she told me as I was saving her dad, she was the indebted one. She blushed as she said it, and I remembered back to that first day and how beautiful I thought she was. I still did and it saddened me that her one serious attempt to form a permanent relationship had failed through no one’s fault. I still felt guilty about the house I was holding and the fact that Des had told me he loved me more than Stella. Oh well, as far as the latter was concerned, she would never know.

“What are you thinking about?” I asked her.

“Des,” she said and tears formed in her eyes, “Pity you didn’t have the blue light stuff when he was killed.”

“Yeah, sorry about that, I feel the same about my parents.”

“I s’pose you do,” she said blowing her nose into a sheet of paper towel. “You know he loved you more than me, don’t you?”

“Who did?” I acted dumb.

“Des, who else?”

“Yeah, that’s why you had his baby and not me.”

“You could hardly have had his baby could you?”

“Seeing as I never slept with him, it would have been doubly difficult, wouldn’t it?”

“I can think of other difficulties too, Cathy.”

“Don’t you think I’m not aware of those?”

“I dunno, I did wonder for a mo.”

“Stella, I was trying to keep us on an even playing field, it was you he asked to marry, not me.”

“Only because he knew you’d turn him down.”

“Nonsense, why would he want the monkey when he could have the organ grinder?”

“There you go again, on about bloody barrel organs–they’re an anachronism.”

“So are tinkers.”

“Tinkers? What are you talking about.”

“If ifs and ans were pots and pans, there’d be no need for tinkers. My mother used to quote it all the time.”

“What’s that got to do with Des fancying you more than me?”

“The grass is greener,” I offered.

“What’s this? Have you been sniffing aphorisms again?”

“Forbidden fruits, that’s the one.”

“Cathy, you are barking? A barking dormouse–I ask you?”

“I am the dormouse who roared, not barked.”

Stella put the back of her hand to my forehead, “Hmm, just as I thought...”

“What is?”

“You feel rather warm, obviously delirious–it would explain the strange conversations.”

“No, you would explain the strange conversations, I don’t have them unless you’re here. If you don’t believe me ask Simon.”

“Ah, we have corroboration–I rest my case.”

“This is a kangaroo court,” I protested–albeit humorously.

“Yep, Skippy is now in session.”

“What is it with you and Simon regarding Skippy?”

“Simon had dozens of the films on tap when he was a kid–didn’t you?”

“No–I’ve never seen one–and don’t you dare tell him. I want my kids to grow up without a sense of anthropomorphism.”

“Antherwotism?”

“Turning animals into humans.”

“So you’re not reading them any more of Toad and Ratty, or the Just So stories or the House at Pooh Corner?”

“Go to bed Stella, I’m getting tired.”

“Why don’t you go if you’re tired?”

“I have emails to send.”

“I’m not stopping you.”

“I can’t concentrate on them, sorry.”

“Do ‘em tomorrow, then.”

“Why? I have enough to do tomorrow as it is.”

“There,” she said, switching off my computer at the plug, “now you’ll have to send them tomorrow.”

“I wanted to do them tonight.”

“Tough, you can deal with them after you get back from dumping all your kids–it’s alright for some.”

“You sound jealous, Stella–has the little green eyed goddess surfaced?”

“Bloody right, she has. Why is it that you have three wonderful children and have never even had to put up with so much as a period, let alone have the bloody things–with all the associated gore and pain? I’ve got one and she’s driving me nuts.”

“She’s teething, Stella.”

“I feel like knocking the bloody things out before she gets them. I’m not sleeping, she’s fractious and howling like a demented desert fox much of the bloody night unless I knock her out.”

“Why didn’t you say?”

“Say what?”

“You were having difficulties.”

“Why should I? What were you going to do? Give her a flash of blue light?”

“Perhaps, why?”

“Well now you can raise the dead, I expect they’ll be nailing you to a tree, won’t they?”

“Will they? I wasn’t meaning the blue light, I was meaning I’d have had Puddin’ for the odd night to give you a rest.”

“Oh!”

“How about I come and see her, maybe the blue light will assist her and you to sleep better.”

“Do you think it will?”

“Let’s find out...”