Wuthering Dormice (aka Bike) Part 890 by Angharad Copyright © 2010 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

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I followed the instructions on the sat-nav to Lizzie’s house–a very nice villa in Hove. For those of you not in the know, Brighton and Hove are actually separate towns but like Siamese twins, joined together to form the now, City of Brighton and Hove. Years ago, one of the top UK urologists lived and worked in Hove–and there was a thriving private clinic which did many SRS ops. It’s now a block of flats.

Hove was always the quieter end of the towns–Brighton, despite the Royal Pavilion–a magnificent folly built by George IV when he was Prince Regent, and looks like an Indian palace–it can be a bit noisy and raucous compared to genteel Hove.

I pulled up outside the house and once again checked my hair and makeup. My tummy flipped, why did this still happen? In three or four hours, I’ll be addressing dozens of students, so why does seeing one woman make me feel nervous? I suppose because she knows my past and will make judgements based on it, whereas those who don’t know simply judge what they see.

I freshened my lippy, primped my hair and picking out the bunch of flowers and small doll, went to the house and rang the doorbell. I waited with bated breath.

The door opened and standing behind it was Lizzie, holding a baby girl–“Cathy? Do come in.”

It was a really lovely house, light and airy, with blocked wooden floors and scatter rugs in the lounge and decorated tiles in the hallway. The smell of fresh made coffee made it seem very welcoming.

“What a delightful house,” I mused while looking at the ornate frieze and coving, “The ceilings are beautiful.”

“Yes, we’re pleased with it until it needs decorating–would you like to do the grand tour?” With that, she showed me around the house, which was very tastefully and sympathetically furnished and decorated without compromising the advantages of modern comforts like central heating and fitted carpets–the latter upstairs in the bedrooms.

We eventually settled down in the kitchen when Sophie had been put down for a nap, the coffee was good and I sat and sipped it.

“I can’t believe you were ever Charlie,” Lizzie opined, offering me a chocolate biscuit.

“Some days, neither can I–perhaps I wasn’t.”

“Well I know we spotted you wearing a bra occasionally.” I blushed at this, I thought I had it hidden. “The back strap used to show through your pullover.”

“Oh, so my secrets weren’t that well kept then?”

“It was gossip amongst a few of us girls, but as you were such an ineffectual boy, we accepted you almost as one of the girls anyway. They used to call you Charlotte behind your back–did you know that?”

“Sort of–I tried to ignore it.”

“So, now you’re Cathy Cameron.”

“Yes, married to Simon.”

“Congratulations, Mrs Cameron.”

“Actually, it’s Lady Cameron.”

Her jaw dropped–“You’re joking?”

“No–he’s a viscount’s son.”

“Well, well, whodathunkit? The oddball kid done good.” She smiled warmly at me. “How long can you stay?”

“I have to go back to the uni to do a talk for six.”

“You’re talking to six or at six?” she smirked at me.

“I think it might be rather more than six people.”

“What are you talking on?”

“Making a wildlife film–I’m speaking to the women’s group.”

“Damn–I’d love to hear that–wonder if I can get my mother to babysit.” She walked off to make a call and came back a few minutes later smiling. “Good ol’ mum. Whereabouts is it?”

“Somewhere in a back room of Maynard Smith building I expect.”

“Okay, John would love to see you.”

“It said, women’s group.”

“Yeah, but he’s a lawyer, remember?”

“Sophie’s a pretty little thing isn’t she?” I said changing the subject.

“Yeah, ‘cept she’s teething at the moment.”

“Which was why she was eating your mobile phone?” I commented.

“Yeah, she’ll chew anything–worse than a puppy at times and she won’t be house trained for a year or two.” She paused then said, “Have you any children? I’ll bet you’d make a super mum.”

“I can’t have children, can I–no breeding bits?”

“Oh no–oh I am sorry, Cathy, I forgot–can’t you adopt?”

“I’m fostering a few at the moment, and hoping to adopt three of them.”

“Wow–fostering a few? How many is a few?”

“Three girls, two boys and teenage girl.”

“Wow–that’s six, jeez girl, that’s a bit of handful isn’t it and you still had time to make a film and run a survey. You don’t have an S on your bra do you?”

“No just a rosebud.” I blushed.

As we relaxed we talked about many things including Perryman. Suddenly it was four thirty and I needed to head back to the university to make sure I could get through the traffic. I also wanted to sort out the room and check on the technology–I hoped we had a projector I could plug my lap top into–or all my funnies would be wasted. I think as well, I simply wanted to sit quietly for a few minutes to compose myself.

Lizzie and I hugged–“I’m going to try and get to hear your talk, and I know John will want to as well. So hopefully we’ll see you later, your ladyship,” she dropped me a curtsey and we both laughed.

I drove back the way I’d come. The traffic was building up and I felt my stress levels rise as I crawled along in the heavy traffic. However, I was still back at the university by quarter past five and looking for someone who could tell me where I was speaking.

Friday and after closing time–not many are going to come, are they? So I expected a general room with hopefully a projector they could bring in. “Ah, you’re in the main lecture theatre.”

“But that holds hundreds?” I gasped.

“Yes–we’ve opened it to the whole university–don’t know quite how many will actually turn up, but we expect at least a hundred or two. Anyone on telly these days is a celebrity it seems.”

I said nothing but followed the woman down to the theatre and set up my laptop on the desk at the front. Last time I was here was to hear David Attenborough talk about saving the rainforests. That was packed, people sat on the steps as well, and stood at the back of the room. I know I won’t get a fraction of that, but even speaking where his holiness, the Attenborough, had been was quite a boost to my confidence.

At twenty to six, Abi arrived and so did the technician, who linked my ’puter with the projector and we ran a couple of bits to make sure it was okay.

“Hey, this looks good, girl,” Abi said as she watched a couple of out takes.

“I try not to take myself too seriously.”

“Well perhaps it’s just as well, the media like to build ’em up and knock ’em down.”

“How many are we expecting?” I asked.

“Couple o’ hundred, I think.”

“What, for li’l ol’ me?”

“Absolutely–it was one of the best nature documentaries of last year–and certainly the best British one. You’re doing the harvest mouse next, I hear?”

“I might have a friend and her husband coming to hear me, I hope that’s okay?”

“Yeah fine, if there’s any seats left.”

“Eh?”

“You are one popular lady–Lady Cameron.” As if to prove her point people started filing into the room which was filling up more quickly and more fully than I’d anticipated.

I went off to freshen up in a nearby loo and when I came back, there were at least another hundred in there–oh God, I hope I don’t mess up.

Abi talked about her introduction to me and although I tried to keep a look out for Lizzie and John, I couldn’t see them in the mass of faces.

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the John Maynard Smith Centre and to its main lecture theatre. Tonight, it is my privilege to introduce an ex student of this place, who is an integral part of the Mammal Survey of Great Britain, as the main organiser; a teacher at Portsmouth University, where she lectures on field skills and ecology, and with special pertinence for tonight–an award winning nature documentary film maker. I give you, Cathy Watts, writer, director and presenter of The Dormouse.”

I stood and accepted the applause–the place was packed–okay, Attenborough had a few more–but then he sits at God’s right hand.

“Thank you Abi, ladies and gentlemen. I was only asked to do this a couple of days ago, so it’s sort of thrown together, and my film editor wasn’t available to sort it out.

“The last time I was in this room, I was an undergrad watching David Attenborough as he then was–it was absolutely packed, bursting at the seams, little did I think I’d be here talking to this small but intimate audience.” They all laughed.

“I take what I do very seriously, and the conservation of habitats and species is very important, certain ones like dormice are almost indicators of how healthy the planet is. Sadly, the dormouse is doing better than much of the planet and hundreds of species.

“Although my work is serious, I try not to take myself too seriously as this clip will show. It’s on Youtube, is there anyone here who hasn’t seen it?” There were quite a few arms went up and shouts of ‘yes’.

“It features a critter called, Spike–let’s see the film.” I pressed the button and the clip ran. The laughter went on for a several minutes and I blushed as I always do when I see it.

“What you couldn’t see, was she wet herself while she was in there.” More laughter.

“Now, on to the film proper–is there anyone who hasn’t seen it?” One or two arms went up. “Abi–I hope you’ve noted who they are, we’ll use ’em for vivisection later.” Abi nodded and there were more laughs.

“Actually, when you see the rest of these clips–you may wonder how anyone saw the actual film, or how we ever finished it without me in hospital. Sadly, the close encounters with a tawny owl wasn’t filmed, because she chased the cameraman as well, and he dropped his camcorder. However, these slight mishaps were recorded for the benefit of posterity.”

I pressed the button and for the next twenty minutes, they watched Alan and I embarrassing ourselves–primarily me, falling over things or having dormice escape me as I was trying to weigh them or record them. A couple of me getting bitten, one of us finding a rat in the box and where we both ran for it. Another of a close encounter with an adder, a roe deer bouncing through the set behind me while I was talking to camera. In another, some guy walked up and asked us what we’re doing, while his dog peed on Alan’s camera bag.

I’d forgotten half of the things that happened, some were really funny–including falling out of a tree when the ladder slipped, looking for a disused ‘nest’ only to have it occupied by a bunch of very angry bumble bees, and crow crapping on me as I stood talking to camera–including the cameraman unable to hold the camera still because he was laughing so much.

The film clips finished and I took a few questions–fortunately, none of them were about my change of status.

To my astonishment, Professor Herbert, head of the department came up on stage to do the vote of thanks.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I’m informed the correct way to address this very talented and self-deprecating young woman is, as Lady Cameron. So, Lady Cameron, on behalf of this huge and receptive audience, I thank you for pointing out some of the hazards of film making, the bit that David Attenborough left out of his talk in this same theatre.

“It’s obvious that you love your subject, and are I believe, one of the foremost experts on the common dormouse in this country–and at such an early age. I am astonished that you found time to do this film, set up and run the British Mammal Survey–although my old friend, Tom Agnew, will claim he does most of it–when he’s actually awake.

“I also believe, you’re looking after a houseful of children, plus a husband and Tom. How on earth you find the time–God alone knows–then to fit us into your busy schedule–is breathtaking.

“Ladies and gentlemen, please be upstanding and put your hands together to show your appreciation of a very remarkable young lady.” The applause went on for a couple of minutes.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I’ve declined a fee for this talk, which is free to you all. However, there are bowls or tins at the exits which will be collecting for ...” I did my spiel and I hoped we’d raise maybe a hundred quid or two.

After meeting with Lizzie and John, who both thought it was very good, I was accosted by Professor Herbert again. “I’ve booked a table for dinner–I hope that’s okay?”

I nodded and sent a text to Stella that I was delayed returning.

“I’m sure if I’d had such a pretty young woman in my faculty, I’d have remembered her–and the only Watts, with a fixation on dormice–was one Charlie Watts–any relation?”

“I think you know the answer to that, Professor Herbert.”

“It’s true then?”

“Yes–I won’t deny it, although I was relieved no one asked about it.”

“Well, I think you did the right thing–and that film you did was cracking–had half the male population of England wanting to go dormouse watching in case you were there in your shorts.”

“I leave that to my team these days.”

“And you’re married to Simon Cameron?”

“Yes–he’s been a great supporter of my activities and the film was part sponsored by his bank.”

“Yes, I noticed that–well, Lady Cameron, let’s away to dinner, shall we?” and he offered me his arm.