Wuthering Dormice (aka Bike) Part 850 by Angharad

“Hey it’s true, you do have a flippin’ castle, can we go and see it?” Danny seemed suddenly impressed.

“I’m afraid not,” answered Simon, “we’d never get up there in this weather, besides, the staff have to make it ready for us.”

“What does that mean?” asked Danny, still enthused with the idea of going to a castle.

“It means that several of the rooms which we would use are sealed up during the winter and they take days to air out and heat–it’s a big old place and it gets quite cold in the winter.”

“Kewl,” said Danny.

“I think it’s colder than that,” said Simon oblivious to teen speak.

“It’s also up in Scotland,” added Trish.

“Yeah, well that ain’t far is it, I mean it’s still in England, innit?”

“No you nit wit,” said Trish loudly, “Scotland is a different country to England, everyone knows that.”

Danny blushed and glowered looking to someone to say she was lying again, which she hadn’t done.

“I’m afraid Trish is correct, Danny,” I spoke to try and defuse things, “and she knows because she’s been there. We stayed there in the summer.” A cold chill ran through my whole body as I recalled the occasion and the fact that we nearly all died.

“Did they fight battles there an’ things?” asked Billy.

“Oh yes, until quite recent times, I believe.”

“Cor, what wiv swords and shields an’ fings?”

“In the olden days yes, but in more recent times it would have been with guns.”

“What, canons and fings?”

“And things, yes.” Like automatic weapons and shotguns. I shivered. “Look are we going to go and play in the snow before it all disappears?” I deftly changed the subject.

The answer was a pretty unanimous agreement, so I made them all help with the clearing up of the breakfast things. Then I sent the girls off to dress for the weather before looking at what clothes the boys had available. They didn’t really have much for keeping out the wet and were too big to borrow from the girls and too small to borrow from Simon or even me.

I sat them on the bed. “You are both going to get cold very quickly as soon as the wet goes through your jeans and jackets. As soon as you start to feel cold, you must say and we’ll come home, okay?”

They both agreed, I still wasn’t happy, but they did have a change of clothing for when we came back, so they’d soon warm up. I went to check the girls and they had their ski jackets and pants on with waterproof gloves and hats. Their wellies would keep their feet dry but not very warm.

I offered my spare gaiters to Danny, but they were too big–I was wearing walking boots and gaiters rather than wellingtons. My wellingtons were the right size for Danny, but not my green Hunters, they were too big, even with thick socks, so he had to borrow my pink flowery ones, which made Trish snigger. Billy managed to get into Stella’s yellow butterfly ones, which again made the girls snigger. My cold stare cut it short.

I was still worried the boys were going to get cold, but they insisted they were okay. So, while Simon got the two sledges out of the garage, I made up some flasks of hot chocolate and packed some biscuits as well. A small first aid kit completed the rucksack and I strapped it closed. I checked we had a mobile phone with us and we set off. Boy it was cold.

The sun came out for a bit and warmed us a little as we walked to the nearest suitable slope, about a mile away. Simon took the ruckie, I carried the phone, the boys pulled the sledges and Meems and Trish held my hands while Livvie walked holding Simon’s hand. It was treacherous under foot and within a hundred paces, Meems had slipped and only holding onto me stopped her going down.

Of course the boys were trying to slide on the sledges on the slightest slope–they had very little idea. In their hooded fleeces with girl’s wellies, they looked like girls and that amused Trish no end. I tried to caution her against laughing too much, as it would raise the subject in the boy’s minds too, and that wasn’t desirable. It would also create an us and them climate beyond one we already had, plus the boys would be looking for revenge if the girls made them look silly.

Half an hour’s difficult walking got us to the field with the slope and we let the boys have the first go on the toboggans. They were very reluctant to let the girls have a go, but I insisted and Simon growled at them, so they got off quite quickly.

I took a few photos of all of them sledging down the hill, with my little camera, and Trish took one of Simon and I standing in the snow. She also got one of Simon kissing me, although I’m so wrapped up in hats and scarves, you can’t really see who it is.

The boys became thoroughly soaked, their fleeces not being designed for lying in the snow, when they made angels: you lie in the snow on your back and move you arms up towards your head and then down towards your legs. I think they look more like giant moths, but what do I know.

When the snowball fight started, I withdrew with the girls to a safe distance and watched Simon and the two boys battle it out with a group of other boys. For some reason one of the other group threw one at us and it was on track for Mima until I stepped forward and intercepted it–it hit me on the bum.

One of the other group tried to sneak up on us, by walking under some fir trees. He threw and retreated under the trees. Even I can hit a tree, so I let fly with two snowballs in quick succession which went over his head and he laughed, until the avalanche of snow from the disturbed branches hit him. He was almost buried. The girls laughed themselves silly.

We left the boys to it, and started to walk home with our sledges. In fact, Mima, who hadn’t had a ride down the hill–she’s a bit too small for it–sat on the sledge and I pulled her home. She kept saying Mush which I believe is a corruption of the French, Marche.

Livvie and Trish took over as dog team and they ran off pulling the sledge with them with Mima giggling until they hit a hard lump and she fell off–I spent the next ten minutes comforting her before we could go on and she walked holding my hand again.

Back home, I’d just stripped the girls off and shoved all their stuff in the washing machine, when the phone rang. “Hi, Babes, we have a situation.”

“What’s happening Simon?”

“Some nice little swine in the other team shoved a stone inside a snowball and it hit Danny in the face.”

“Is he alright?” My stomach flipped over.

“The paramedics are looking at him now. They want him to go to hospital.”

“What happened?”

“It hit him in the eye.”

“Oh shit, do we have to notify anyone?” I would have to look at the forms we had with them.

“I dunno, but the police are talking to the little shite, who I think did it.”

“I don’t believe this, Simon, they’ve only been with us a day or so.”

“I know–I gotta go, talk to ya later.”

“What’s happened?” asked Stella

“Danny’s been hit in the eye by a snowball with a rock in it.”

“Not nice,” she said.

“No, very not nice.” I agreed and she nodded. While we’d probably agree it couldn’t happen to a nicer person, why did it have to happen on our watch? Oh boy, my luck is continuing to hold–and most of it is a bad as the weather.