Wuthering Dormice (aka Bike) Part 860 by Angharad

The meal at the hotel was delicious–I had tuna steak with salad, and a fruit salad for desert. The boys had small steaks, the girls had chicken–they each followed Livvie who decided she wanted chicken and chips–in a four star restaurant, I ask you? Simon had lobster–I nearly threw up when I realised it was alive when he chose it from the tank. Stella had some salmon concoction–which I thought I’d done at home before now, and mine wasn’t as portion controlled. Puddin’ had some jars of food I’d made and blended for Stella.

Henry had steak and kidney pudding, and Monica a shark steak with salad. Monica’s choice seemed somewhat Freudian to me, but maybe I’m just hypersensitive–certainly she hasn’t tried it on with me since and I suspect the kids are all safe with her. She may be predatory but not paedophilic, that was Simon’s opinion and I assumed he was right. If I ever found that she’d made improper advances or contact with any of the children–I’d be defending a murder rap, and she knew it.

The children were made to sit quietly for an hour or so after eating, then we went off to the pool. For an hour, they splashed and played in the water. I was pleased that the two boys could swim after a fashion and the life guard there coached them a little so they were doing even better afterwards. I encouraged Meems to try and swim a bit but she decided after her previous experience, she wasn’t going to. Monica sat with her in the paddling pool and eventually Stella came in with Puddin’ who squealed and giggled in the water.

I did manage a couple of lengths and became quite out of breath quite quickly–reminding myself how unfit I was. The boys still with the swimming coach and Monica and Stella happy to see to the girls, I dried and changed and went to the gym. It didn’t take me long to goad Simon into racing on the stationary bikes, without traffic to distract him and little chance of falling off, he gave it his best shot and for a while he was ahead. We were on these posh ones with the computerised screen so you can race, the bike adjusts for the supposed course you are riding–we were doing one from the Tour de France, although I’m not sure if Simon realised it. Once we got into the hill climbs, he fell behind and stayed there. We didn’t finish the ride–it was nearly two hundred kilometres and neither of us were up to more than half that. So my first attempt at an etap de Tour failed miserably.

“Are we going to take these kids then?”

“Take them where?” I asked my husband, who could occasionally be obscure.

“The boys–like foster them?”

“I don’t know, why?”

“I’m just asking, that’s all.”

“Why does everyone want me to foster them?”

“They seem nice enough kids–so they’ve had problems in the past, maybe we could help get them on the straight and narrow.”

“Simon, we’re a family not the probation service.”

“I know, and they are getting attached to us–especially you.”

“Me? Why me?” I felt myself blushing.

“Sounds like you’re the first real mother they’ve had.”

“Maybe it’s a father figure they need?” I retaliated.

“Could be, or just balanced parents?” he mused and I pretended to have a twitch and a limp–he sniggered, “You can’t get out of it that easily.”

“Simon, this is serious stuff, I mean if they were to stay with us permanently, what would happen to the girls with regard to inheritances?”

“Dunno–maybe they’ll be a thing of the past by then–I mean they’re hardly important now are they, unless you want to book a restaurant table.”

"I don’t know, both the boys are older than the girls and theoretically would inherit first.”

“Oh God, what a can of worms that would be–Malcolm the second tried to resolve it a thousand years ago because he had two daughters and no sons and they were still squabbling about it hundreds of years later. Couldn’t we just adopt the girls and foster the boys–I mean if they stay with us we could help to set them up when they leave school or do university?”

“Aren’t we doing double standards then? Favouring the girls over the boys? Won’t they resent it if they found out?”

“Tell them from the beginning–you can stay with us if you want, but we’ll only ever foster you not adopt you. See they’ll understand–after all with you there, they’ll have a more comfortable billet than they would with their charitable homes or council run places.”

“Yes–but it’s still double standards, which when they realised were happening, they’d consider we didn’t love them as much as the girls.”

“We don’t–leastways, I don’t.” Simon seemed happy with what to me was a time-bomb.

“We’d be setting ourselves up for all sorts of things later on–they could go right off the rails because we’d be doing exactly what their previous parents had done, put their own needs first. It’s effectively, a massive rejection. Just imagine what would happen if Stella had become the crown princess to your estate usurping your claims.”

“I’d do what my ancestors did.”

“Which was?”

“Kill her and take it.” He sniggered, “Crude but effective.”

“I don’t think that’s allowed even in Scottish law, is it?”

“It worked for Robbie Bruce.”

“I think the law might have been different in those days, and Edward the second isn’t on the throne any longer. Wasn’t he the one killed at Berkley Castle?”

“With a red hot poker up his um–you know,” Simon smirked.

“That’s according to Marlowe, I saw a film of it once, years ago. I expect the evidence is scant, and even a modern forensic team would have difficulty investigating that, assuming his burial site is known.” I paused, “Simon, all this stuff about Edward and Robert Bruce is all very interesting, but it doesn’t move us very far forward does it?”

“Bruce outmanoeuvred Edward every time, at Bannockburn he surprised the English and caught them on ground favourable to his smaller lighter army.”

“That’s all fine and well, Simon, but what has that got to do with our little dilemma.”

“How do I know? I do what you tell me to do.”

I blushed and snorted, “Since when?”

“Okay, most of the time.”

“What time is that, Simon, Pacific Standard Time? It sure isn’t GMT.”

“Ooh, Cathy, you wound me to the heart.”

“Rubbish, you’re a banker they have them extracted at an early age–just before the lobotomy.”

“Hey, I resemble that remark–what’s a lobotomy, ever since my operation, I can’t remember things...” he sniggered and began walking like Boris Karloff’s Frankenstein.

I shook my head, we were no closer to resolving this matter–we’d need to consult Henry. So I steered my idiot husband towards the family suite. Henry wasn’t there, he was watching the kids in the pool and took some finding until I called his mobile.

“You can’t escape with these bloody things, can you?” he waved his cell phone before putting it back in his jacket pocket.

“Henry, dearest Pa-in-law..” I began and he rolled his eyes.

“Cathy, when you purr and rub yourself against my legs I can deny you nothing.”

I blushed and Simon who was having a drink nearly choked himself. “Oh great leader of men and commerce, guide us with your wisdom...”

“You are setting me up, you bitch, aren’t you?” he gave me a wink.

My expression was one of pure innocence–which is my usual state, mainly because I’m oblivious to what is really happening-- “Who me? How can you assert such a charge?” I feigned indignation–Simon was still choking, at this rate we could well find out about inheritance laws in a very short time.

I explained our predicament and he sat watching the children play for several minutes. “Do you know, I haven’t a clue–thank goodness we did our expansion the old fashioned way.” I winced at this, and he apologised for his insensitivity. “I’ll make some enquiries, we could always abolish the titles through the House.”

“House of Lords,” said Simon seeing the perplexed look on my face.

“That would be a solution, but it seems a rather blunt instrument for such a delicate matter.” I shrugged, we were no further forward and I suspected the legal situation would be a rather complex one seeing as none of the children were actually ours, in fact or law yet.

I suggested we invited the boys to stay longer if the option was permissible by the charity and the council, to play for time. Why do today what you can delay indefinitely with the help of a few lawyers? Oh boy.