Wuthering Dormice (aka Bike) Part 884 by Angharad Copyright © 2010 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

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It puzzled me how quickly the chap at Southampton had cracked the encryption on the memory stick, so I voiced my query.

“Ah, I know the answer to that;” Gareth said smugly. “Two things, it wasn’t a very good stick and the encryption may well have been faulty, and it seems the machine he used was the one it belonged to.”

“So was that Perryman’s?” I asked, almost holding my breath.

“I’m not absolutely sure, but apparently he was supposed to be organising that part of it, so it could be.”

“Ironic, isn’t it, while I think anyone who abuses children needs to be dealt with, I actually feel sorry for him.”

“Cathy, you saw those photos, the three or four we were shown. They were disgraceful.” Gareth was right.

A day or so ago, I’d have agreed, but I suppose he was now a patient of mine, and that altered my attitude to him. As a parent, if he’d done that to any of my kids, I’d have killed him–I think, we can never be sure. Oh stop thinking–just look forward to seeing your children safe and sound, and be glad Tom seems to have won the first battle.

We chatted more about how we could maintain the initiative now we’d taken it, and those two seemed well able to deal with the politics whilst I dealt with some of the overall administration, leading a team who would do more of the day to day stuff and leave me to watch over the science.

I needed to send some data to other species leaders, including someone at Sussex. Then at some point, I’d need to visit those with any problems, which is fine if it’s an hour’s drive away, but not if it’s as far as Glasgow or even Aberdeen, or Aberystwyth for that matter. I had to consider the children as well as my job–even though my interpretation of results was what was hopefully going to get me a PhD–one day.

Once at the hotel in Southsea and settled into our suite–I was able to change out of my glad rags and go to see what my kids were up to. The girls were swimming, each with their own personal coach–I was delighted to see that Mima was able to put her previous experience behind her–the day I discovered how powerful the blue energy could be and how I could actually use it, or it, me. I was never quite sure which did what and who was in charge.

I watched the girls swimming–they were having such fun, and when they saw me they squealed and waved, each running up to me to kiss me and then jump back into the water. It looked very much as if each of them could swim reasonably well or was on the way to achieving it.

I mused some more upon the blue energy or whatever colour seemed to manifest itself. For a moment, I wondered if everything had been planned by something, to test or teach me. It was a tall order for me to even consider such a thing without thinking of the G word and pooh-poohing the whole lot.

In my world Darwin was king, he counted earthworms, disgusted with his beliefs when his daughter died. Mine didn’t die, but I was already agnostic purely on logical grounds. What if we were both wrong? Hmmm, I didn’t like that much–maybe there was some alternative explanation that didn’t involve gods or a whole pantheon of nebulous beings who were as useful as a wet cream cracker.

Nah, there was nothing–the energy was itself, it didn’t need numinous entities, it probably worked on some physical system such as energy gradients–yeah that was it.

Problem solved.

Unfortunately, my monkey mind wasn’t quite finished–how did it know where to happen? It had to be that I was some sort of catalyst, which caused it to come and then it did what it did using me as an aerial or channel. See, easy-peasy. Unless, I was led to do these things as a test or training exercise–my cooperation being ensured by it being needed by Tom, Meems and Henry. If that was true, then I wanted no more to do with it–at the same time, I had to be careful: what happened if one of those already mentioned or another member of my family needed my help and I’d washed my hands of it? No–don’t go there; also it brings it round to a conscious entity and I don’t like that anymore than I like the idea of anything but being in control. Why me? Why can’t I just go and count dormice instead of all these moralistic dilemmas?

God only exists as an anagram of dog–there, I’ve committed blasphemy, I’ll wait for the thunderbolt, Tichfield or otherwise.

I called the girls to finish their swim and get dressed. Once they were ready, I took them with me in search of the boys. The two lads were having a contest on two stationary bikes seeing who could get the furthest on a TdF computerised screen. I think it might be the same one I tried with Simon before Christmas.

I looked for Julie–she wasn’t with them, then the penny dropped. I called the beauty salon and she was there with Stella, Puddin’ being looked after by the baby sitting service.

“Can we go, Mummy?” asked the girls in unison. I called the salon again, who said they were quiet and could do facials or hair cuts for all of us if we liked. I opted for haircuts.

I was informed that Henry and Monica would be arriving later on and Simon was following on as soon as he could. I felt better already. With my trusty partner by my side, life was a great deal easier.

Gareth was invited to stay for dinner and to use the gym or pool if he wanted. He was tempted, but had to get back to the office–they couldn’t live without him–he joked.

We returned from the salon to find the dirty clothes we’d worn that day had been cleaned or laundered and returned–wow, how’s that for five star treatment. Then they reminded me, my pa-in-law owned it.

Henry sent me a text, inviting everyone to dinner in the Green Room restaurant. That meant dressing up. The girls loved it, the boys were half hearted, Tom was appalled and I was feeling lazy until Stella insisted I wear a very smart cocktail dress. So it was on with the slap–at least my hair was tidy–and polished nails and so on.

While I was doing creative things with my face and being pestered by three young women–Julie had had the works, so looked better than I was ever going to–I had the telly on in the background, not something I usually do.

’Reports are coming in of a police investigation at Southampton University, where a computer was removed along with several digital memory devices. Police are waiting to interview a member of staff who was injured in an accident on the campus, and who is currently in hospital under police guard about this matter.

I shuddered, so Perryman was under investigation–I still felt sorry for him, but despised him for what he’d done to me and to all those children. I supposed he had it coming, and this time he’d need to do some seriously clever talking to get out of it.

I had just finished getting ready when I was interrupted by Julie saying there was a policeman who wanted to speak to me. I had no idea what he wanted. All the things I’d been involved with had more or less been resolved. I hoped it didn’t mean something had happened to Simon or Henry and Monica.

“Lady Catherine Cameron?”

“Yes.”

“I’m Inspector Lane, this is Detective Constable Fish.” He introduced himself and a rather plain young woman who was with him. “I need to speak to you about the incident at Southampton University earlier today.”

“Yes okay, please have a seat.”

“We’ve spoken with Luke Perryman. He suggested the memory device was yours. He thought he saw you drop it when you were trying to kill him.”

“Come again?”

“He alleges you dropped the memory stick and tried to kill him to cover your past crimes. I’m afraid that I’m going to have to ask you to come to the police station and make a statement. You do not have to say anything. But it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence.”

“Is this for real?”

“I’m afraid so, Lady Cameron.”

“I have to ask someone to watch my children–Stella, I have to go down the police station. Can you or Tom or Julie keep an eye on the kids? The boys are still down at the gym as far as I know.”

“What have you got to go down there for? I’ll get Tom.” Stella rushed out of the room.

Tom stormed in, “Whit’s goin’ on here? Are ye arrestin’ ma dochter?”

“No sir, just asking her to make a statement.”

“Aboot whit?”

“The thing with Perryman. He’s accusing me of owning the memory stick.”

“Whit? That’s bluidy ridiculous–he drapped it, it worked on his computer, this is jes’ plain daft.”

“I’m sorry, Professor, I’m just doing my job. This way please, Lady Cameron.”

“Aye, thae concentration camp guerds said the same thing afore we hanged them.”

“There’s no need for that, Professor,” said the inspector.

I pulled on a coat and took my bag with me. “I’ll be okay, Daddy, don’t worry,” I tried to cheer him up.

“If ye’re no back here in half an’ ‘oor, I’ll be doon there wi’ a writ fer wrangfu’ arrest.”

“Stay calm, Professor, we’re just sorting out a few loose ends.”

“Aye, weel Cathy hae better be loose in half an’ ‘oor or I’ll be doon there and yer future career wi’ depend upon hoo mony tickets ye can dispense fer parkin’ offences.”