Wuthering Dormice (aka Bike) Part 893 by Angharad Copyright © 2010 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

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I awoke to the sounds of the radio, which somehow had become switched to Radio Solent. ‘Now we have the Reverend David Briars who claims an encounter with an angel at the motorway services.’

Suddenly I went from semi-conscious to wide awake in an instant. ‘I saw a pretty young woman sitting all alone and she looked liked she’d been crying–her eye makeup was all over her face–and I felt moved to try and console her.

She told me some story which sounded plausible until I thought about it, and which was designed just to test me. I obviously passed the test because the next thing was I felt a burning in my back–which she knew about–and she told me to have faith and I’d be healed. I closed my eyes for a moment and she’d disappeared. It’s a miracle–first night for ten or more years that I haven’t been in pain.

She said she was an angel and I just smiled at her–looks as if she was telling me the truth. No human has powers like that, and only one who lived has had them and that was two thousand years ago. I really believe she was an angel and has healed my back–it’s a real miracle. I thank God.’

I lay back on the bed and smiled–I didn’t choose to help him, it happened to him as if the energy chose him and then healed him–weird or what? On further reflection it seemed to heal him only after he’d been supportive to me.

I wondered why the car had played up–and which suddenly seemed okay afterwards–what is going on here? Am I just putting coincidences together or what?

Then a bad thought–they’ll have video of me going into the service area–bugger, the Echo will be round again trying to disprove my denials.

’More on that story of the angel of the service area–we asked the service area concerned if they had any film we could examine of the so called angel visiting the centre–seems like their CCTV system went down ten minutes before she went in and came back on-line about twenty minutes after she left–curiouser and curiouser, said Alice.
If you think you’ve met an angel let us know on...’ my smile went to full smirk, are they that desperate for news. I was tempted to call in and say I didn’t see anything, including the vicar–but that would be lying and do him a disservice. After this, there’ll be hundreds of people waiting in service centres all along the M27 for this miraculous angel to arrive.

’Yet more on our angelic visitor–it seems the Rev. Briars is going to hold a service of healing and thanksgiving in the car park of each of the service centres along that stretch of motorway–anyone who wants to attend can contact him through our information line on...’

Gee whizz, first of all pestilential paparazzi now cretinous clergymen–whatever next? As I contemplated this while listening to Robbie Williams singing, Angel on the radio, I was invaded by aliens.

The rest of the day went as usual–except I got the car checked out and there was absolutely nothing wrong with it. There had to be, it just doesn’t act strangely like that without a reason, so I made them check it again–some electrical fault which would get worse as it got warm. They were very reluctant to do anything until I suggested that if it broke down again, I’d be suing their arses off–it seemed to concentrate their little minds.

Funny that CCTV system failing for half an hour–maybe I have a gremlin following me about?

I’d just got home at lunchtime when the phone rang and Stella answered it. “Cathy, can you take a call from Professor Esmond Herbert?”

“Yeah okay,” I picked up the phone in the bedroom. “Hello, Cathy Cameron speaking.”

“Hello, Cathy thanks so much for your talk yesterday–we had about eight hundred visitors to listen to you–apparently, they put it out on Radio Brighton...” I felt myself go all hot then realised he said Brighton–close shave? “We raised nearly four thousand quid for wildlife charities–once they find out, you are going to be so in demand, girl.”

“I’ll charge for the next one.”

“Don’t blame you. Look, I’m sorry about Dilly last night, she and Abi are going through a rough patch and apparently Abi was talking about you quite a lot, so Dilly got jealous–she’s a nice kid really.”

“What for a psychopath?” I threw in angrily.

“No she isn’t–she really isn’t.”

“So that’s why she was drinking–jealousy?”

“Seems like it was.”

“Well maybe you need to tell her about her behaviour–she isn’t a child she must be older than I am, Abi is nearly forty for God’s sake.”

“I have told her off and she wants me to convey her apologies.”

“If she can’t do that herself–tell her to stuff them. Thanks for calling, Professor, I have to go.”

“Cathy, wait...” I put the phone down I’d talked enough.

An afternoon of survey admin and housework followed whilst trying to keep Leon and Julie apart. I sent her off with the girls to go to the cinema to see some strange children’s film–while the boys helped Leon spread manure on Tom’s vegetable patch–they did have a shovel or spade each and not a clue between them. Tom had to go out and show them, then how to dig it in. What do they teach young men these days? How to slit each other up with a knife in ten easy lessons? I went back to my emails.

For dinner I did a huge pot of spaghetti Bolognaise and made sure we had plenty of table napkins to save on the washing. It went down well–especially over Leon’s jeans–he was so busy making eyes at Julie, he missed his mouth dropped a forkful of hot pasta on his lap–jumped up and caught the edge of Billy’s plate–which emptied into his lap–Leon’s that is. Kiki thought it was her birthday and she licked up the evidence on the kitchen floor very quickly.

The boys complained that they had to work while the girls enjoyed themselves–as Leon is actually paid to work, I got a bit cross with them–then calmed down and told them, if they got the rest of the veg patch done tomorrow, they could go for a ride with Leon, if he was agreeable. I was pretty sure he would be–he seemed rather pleased to be the object of attention of two younger boys, except he was watching Julie at every opportunity–who did little to discourage him until I told her to. If the other three are as bad when they’re teenagers, I’ll strangle them all.

Of course all this was new to me–I’d not been bothered with a real puberty or adolescence and certainly didn’t fancy anyone sexually–until it was awakened by that bloke from the garage and I made a small deposit in my knickers. I still think about that from time to time, though obviously, my affection is purely for Simon now, in that respect. He’s supposed to be home a bit later and is taking Monday off for some reason.

I haven’t heard from Nora yet–so I’m not sure exactly what is happening to the children. Mind you I haven’t yet examined the mail which came while I was out this morning.

I glanced through most of it, circulars and other junk mail, then one with a recorded delivery from...I couldn’t make it out, it had ink or something over it. Upon opening it, I discovered that my application to have the boys as foster children had been approved and payments would start very soon. I presumed the Trust which owned the home meant from social services or whatever. However, I hadn’t actually applied for them to be fostered–it was one of those things awaiting doing when I had time. Then again, I wasn’t going to disagree unless the boys felt it was what they wanted–to move on elsewhere.

I was tired–and couldn’t wait to get to bed–although with Simon snoring like a catfish with croup, I wasn’t sure to get much sleep tonight either. Life’s a bitch and then you get married!