Easy As Falling Off A Bike pt 873.

Wuthering Dormice
(aka Bike)
Part 873
by Angharad

Copyright © 2010 Angharad
All Rights Reserved.
  
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After removing my coat and backpack, I rushed upstairs calling the teen–I searched all the rooms, looked in wardrobes ,under beds, even the pantry. She wasn’t in the house. I had a quick drink and told everyone to stay indoors. Then I searched all the outbuildings, they too were signally lacking in teenagers.

I examined the footprints, they were quite a mess. However, I persevered and eventually found some that were of a single person walking away from the house, and they looked like trainers. The snow had eased, so they weren’t completely buried.
I walked after them as quickly as I could–what was she thinking of? She was heading into the fields behind the farmhouse. Did she know this area? Did she have a mobile? Not that I knew of, and mine was in my pocket.

I followed the footprints, they were starting to circle around–what did that mean? I began to run and the prints began to look a bit fresher–was I gaining on her?
Suddenly, I caught sight of something up ahead of me. Something was hanging from a tree–oh my God. I sprinted as best I could, grabbing the limp body, and trying to unhitch the rope from around her neck.

Her lips were turning blue but there was a pulse–faint but there, she must have only just now stopped breathing–I dropped her gently on the ground and began mouth to mouth. After the second breath, she coughed and sucked in a lungful of air. She was very cold and trembling.

I pulled her into a sitting position and wrapped my coat around her. I called home instructing them to boil the kettle for hot drinks. I’d be back as soon as I could. Somehow I managed to hoist her into nearly a standing position, and folded her over my shoulder in what they used to call a fireman’s lift. I then began to struggle back to the house.

Once or twice I had to stop to rest–on one such occasion, she was sick all down my back and leg, but judging by the groaning she was alive. The number of times I had to slow down because the way was slippery were too numerous to count–but then before me loomed the house and I struggled on with renewed vigour. Stella saw me coming and opened the back door.

We got her upstairs and after stripping her plonked her on the shower seat and ran a warm stream of water over her. She opened her eyes and looked vacantly at me. As she warmed so she recognised me and I half expected a load of invective, instead she said,” Mummy? Is that you?”

“Yes, sweetie-pie,” I hugged her in the shower and she began to cry.

“I’m sorry, Mummy, I couldn’t bear to leave here. I’m so sorry.”

In the background I could hear Stella asking everyone to stay away, and give Julie some space. Good ol’ Stella, I thought.

“I’m really sorry, Mummy–will I have to leave here now?” She was sobbing nearly as much water as the shower. My clothes were wringing wet.

“It’s okay, Julie, it’s okay, no one is going anywhere.”

“Mummy, I’ll behave in future, I promise.”

“So will I, sweetheart. C’mon, just get yourself warmer and we’ll talk it out over a cuppa–okay?”

She nodded, “Yes, Mummy.” She was still crying but could now stand by herself and was able to turn up the temperature on the water. I started to strip off in front of her, my clothes were soaking and my jeans bore the remains of her breakfast.

Maybe she hadn’t seen a naked woman before but she seemed transfixed staring at me. “It’s rude to stare,” I joked.

“I wish I looked like that, Mummy?”

“Hopefully, you will before too long.”

Stella entered the room and asked if we were holding a naturist conference and could anyone join in? Julie and I laughed at this so Stella began to strip off as well, until I stopped her. “You’re only jealous of my stretch marks,” she said and redressed herself. In some ways I suppose I was.

Wrapped in towels, I went to shower in my own room and dried and dressed as quickly as I could. By the time I returned to Julie’s room, Stella had helped her to dress and apart from the bruise around her throat, she looked reasonably well.

I shivered when I thought that if I’d delayed a few more minutes or if she’d moved faster to her hanging tree, she’d be dead now and I’d be explaining some awkward things to a host of police officers and social workers and possibly losing custody of the ones I already had. What was it Wellington said at Waterloo–’It was a close run thing’ Now I know the feeling.

We had a drink of tea with the others after I’d given Julie a chiffon scarf to put around her neck to hide the mark. There were all sorts of questions but we evaded most of them. Then once again, Stella did a quick exam of the teen and pronounced her well enough to stay home–not needing to visit a hospital.

I made her go upstairs for a rest, to which she agreed if I’d go with her–Stella nodded her concurrence, so up I went. We lay together on her bed, her crying silently and me wanting to make it all better–but I couldn’t, she had to heal herself, all I could do was support the process.

“Have you tried that before?” I asked meaning the suicide.

She cried more pitifully than ever, and nodded.

“With a rope?”

“She nodded again.

“What happened then?”

“The string snapped.”

“Good, I’m glad. If it hadn’t then I wouldn’t have had the chance to be your foster mother, would I?”

She laughed, still with face wet with tears, and shook her head. “Will you be my mummy?”

“On one condition,” she looked up at me. “You don’t do anything like that ever again–you come and talk to me. Agreed?”

She nodded, and I held her–“Never do that again, think what it would do to Trish.”

“I’m sorry, Mummy.”

“So am I sweetheart, that I somehow caused you to think like that. Suicide doesn’t solve anything, it just makes everything harder for everyone else.”

“I wasn’t thinking, Mummy, I just hurt so much inside and I wanted it to stop,” she hugged me, “Please let me stay.”

“As long as you want to.”

She hugged me very tightly, “Thank you sooo much, Mummy.”

“The pleasure is all mine.” I kissed her on top of the head.

A while later I woke up, Julie was still fast asleep and I was stiff and my hair had dried all lopsided where I’d lain on it. I slipped out from Julie’s grasp, covered her over with the duvet and left her to sleep.

I went back to my room and ran a bath, jumping in the hot water to ease my muscles–which seemed to be aching everywhere. Trish came in to me and washed my back for me.

“Is Julie going to be alright, Mummy?”

“I think so, why?”

“Did you use your magic powers on her?”

“Darling, I don’t have magic powers.”

“Oh, shall I try and see if mine work?”

“Not now sweetheart, what she needs is rest and perhaps a chat with Dr Stephanie.”

“She’s nice, I like her.”

“That’s good, she likes you too.”

“Did she say so?”

“Oh goodness, each time she sees you, she says what a polite young lady you are and how she’d be proud to have a daughter like you.”

“Gosh, did she?”

“Would I lie to you, already?” I said in my best Barbra Streisand voice. Sadly Trish was oblivious to my talents as an impersonator–except those of a mummy impersonator–no, not the Egyptian type.

“You were cross with Julie, weren’t you?”

“I was but I’m not now.”

“I’m glad about that. Was she naughty?”

“No, Trish, we had a misunderstanding, and that’s all cleared up now.”

“Oh good, I’m glad you’re not cross with her anymore. We all get scared when you’re cross.”

“Scared of what?” I was beginning to find this conversation alarming.

“That you might send us back to the homes.”

“I’ve already told you I won’t ever do that, in fact I’ve promised I won’t unless you want to go back.”

“I don’t–can we keep the boys, too?”

“Looks like we’re stuck with them for the moment at any rate, or are they stuck with us?”

“Oh goody, I like having the boys here, they’re nearly as good as girls.”

“No one is as good as you, sweetheart.”

She hugged my head and kissed me. “You’re the best mummy in the world.”

I felt a tear roll down my cheek–“If I was, Trish, this thing this morning, wouldn’t have happened.”

“Well, I think so,” she asserted and hugged me again.

I don’t know if Trish was working her magic on me, but my aches and pains seemed to soak away into the warm water and when I rose from the bath, I felt relaxed in body and mind. I dried myself, dressed and dried my hair. I checked on Julie, she was still sleeping.

Once downstairs, I thanked Stella for coping without much help from me, she smiled and told me how much I obviously did every day, and which is largely unappreciated. I reminded her that most women’s contributions in terms of labour, were largely unrecognised, taken for granted and denigrated.

“Are you going all feminist on me, Cathy?” she smirked at me.

“No, I’ve been that way for a long time–at least since I realised the role women play in family life–sadly it was too late to appreciate how much my own mother did, but I do now.”

“Um–yeah, it seems to be that way. Maybe you can teach the girls to avoid some of the pitfalls.”

“Yeah, maybe–once I learn how to do it myself. At the moment, I feel like I could do with a course in practical parenting myself.”

“Do I feel a chance to beat yourself up, coming on?” Stella smiled.

“Yeah, probably.”

“Look, we’re all learning how to gel as a family, you’ve never had a teen under your control before–it’s all new.”

“I’ve spent two years teaching them.”

“That’s not the same as mothering them. You’re a natural nurturer–God, that’s a mouthful–but it’s what you are. Remember, Julie is just as unaccustomed to her part of the equation as you are. You need to work on it between you, maybe start to teach her some of your amazing kitchen skills–like you’ve taught Trish and Meems and now Livvie.”

“But they wanted to learn,” I protested weakly.

“So will Julie, when she realises how irresistible those skills are in attracting boys.”

“Oh wonderful, she’s oversexed as it is, all I need is to teach her how to make a bigger mess of her little life.”

“I’m only joking–besides, it’s attention she lacks, or has lacked. Her flirting is symptomatic of that.”

“Okay, I’ve promised to try harder with her and I hope by doing so, she’ll reciprocate. We’ll have to wait and see, won’t we.”

“Indeed we will–now, what’s for dinner, Watts?”

“How about minced morsels of Cameron, Cameron?”

She poked her tongue out at me and fled the kitchen, chuckling as she went. They’re all mad–the whole bloody family–completely barking. I wonder if that’s why I fit in so easily.

The phone rang, it was Tom, he was getting a lift home from a colleague with a 4x4. The snow had stopped, so hopefully they’d be fine. I went into the kitchen, and was just looking in the fridge to see what I could turn into a reasonable meal with minimal effort when I felt someone at my elbow–I glanced around.

“You gonna teach me to cook then?”

I put my arm around the still sleepy looking teen, and kissed her forehead. “Looks like it.”

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