Wuthering Dormice (aka Bike) Part 856 by Angharad

The conversation seemed to go quiet after Trish spoke. “Can we talk about this later?” I said to her.

“Sure, but I’m not going to change my mind.”

“Fine, but you’re not the one who decides who lives here–this is Grampa’s house.”

“Och, dinna involve me,” Tom shrugged.

“Okay, we’ll talk later, young lady, now go and play–oh, and shut the door, please.”

“The prophecy asserts itself,” said Simon, having a little too much to drink.

“C’mon, Si, that’s total rubbish and you know it?”

“What’s this about a prophecy?” asked Monica.

“Oh, Cathy had a dream a while back.”

“And...?,” she urged

“Her mother appeared and told her she’d have a large family.”

I sat there blushing–why did he have to open his big mouth?

“Ooh, dreams can be quite prophetic,” cackled Monica.

“Yes, but most are total nonsense–which is what I feel this one was.” I blushed and felt very hot as I issued this denial.

“Leave da poor girl alone, she one special lady.” Theresa joined the conversation, she winked at me and I don’t know if she was siding with me or dropping hints that she knew what I was–a total fraud.

“Goodness, we’re going to run out of titles,” said Henry and Simon laughed too loudly.

“Not if I murder your son,” I said quietly, but loudly enough for Henry to hear.

“I’ll help you dispose of the body,” he said behind his hand and winked at me.

“If you takin’ kids, you can have my Leon any day,” said Theresa and snorted.

“Whose side are you on?” I pretended to glare at her and she snorted with laughter. “Any more trouble from you and I’ll let your tyres down.” She roared at this remark, maybe I’d get Simon to stop pouring drinks.

“Anyone for...” I started.

“Tennis,” said Simon and laughed at his own joke.

“Och, the tennis court has no been useable fa years,” Tom volunteered.

Before my tiddly husband could open his mouth and shove in both feet up to the knee, I said, “I was going to ask if tea or coffee was required by anyone?”

“Hmm, I fancy a good cup of coffee,” said Stella, c’mon, I’ll help you make it.”

We adjourned to the kitchen. “You’re not seriously going to take those boys are you?”

“I don’t intend to,” I replied.

“So what are you going to say to Trish? I mean didn’t one of them push her down the stairs or something?”

“I think so–as to what I tell her–I’ll just have to say, it’s not possible. I mean I have a career to pursue as well as looking after the girls. Besides, I have no idea how to bring up boys.”

Stella thought this was amusing, I didn’t. I poured the boiling water on the coffee and the smell was wonderful.

“You don’t think it’s ironic that someone who was raised as a boy has no idea how to raise boys?”

“It may well be ironic, it isn’t necessarily, funny. My childhood was at times very difficult–I don’t want to pass those experiences onto the boys.”

“See you’re already considering their well-being.”

“I have to, I’m legally responsible for them until Nora comes back to collect them.”

“When’s that?”

“January the fourth.”

“By that time, you’ll have been able to decide if you want to or not.”

“Decide what?”

“Whether you want to keep them.”

“Stella, why is no one listening to me? I don’t want to keep them–I can barely cope with three girls and Simon.”

“Fair enough, but Trish is going to be broken hearted.”

“That’s her problem, Stella, she’s brought it upon herself.”

“Yes, but she’s coped wonderfully, hasn’t she?”

“Yes, but so have the rest of us, reassuring her and backing her up at every moment.”

“Isn’t that how parents are meant to be?”

“Probably, look I don’t know–mine weren’t, okay–so can we please drop this subject?”

She looked suitably chastened. “Yeah, fine–it wasn’t me who raised it in the first place.” She sauntered out of the kitchen and I felt like hurling the coffee pot after her. Instead I put some cups and saucers together and was about to struggle out with them when Henry appeared.

“Need some help?”

“Yeah, know a good psychiatrist?” I asked grinning.

“For you or my children?”

“Good question–could you take the tray, please?”

“Here, that’s heavy, girl, you’d have hurt yourself lifting this.” He picked up the tray and carried it through to the dining room, I followed behind with a coffee pot and some milk.

“What no cappuccino?” said Simon.

“You want it, you make it, darling,” I said through gritted teeth.

“You heard the lady,” Henry snapped.

“That was no lady...” I felt myself get very hot, “...that was my wife,” he laughed loudly again.

Henry put the tray down loudly, “I think you could finally be the proof that hereditary peerages have had their day.”

Simon laughed loudly at this, “That is so funny, Dad.”

“I didn’t actually mean it as a joke, son.”

“That’s even funnier,” roared Simon.

I noticed that the rest of the table were becoming embarrassed by this conversation.

“Coffee?” I said loudly and Henry handed me a cup to fill.