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(aka Bike) Part 899 by Angharad Copyright © 2010 Angharad
All Rights Reserved. |
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“So how long have you known?” I asked my teenage foster child, who like most teenagers, was full of surprises.
“Since you did that interview with Daddy on the telly, with the BBC. I had to go and watch it in school the next day, because Dad turned it over to another channel after swearing at you.”
“Watch it in school?”
“On the internet–BBC iplayer thingy.”
“Oh yes, I’d forgotten that. You’re full of surprises aren’t you?”
“Yeah, I’m like, um–like my foster mum.” She smirked and I felt my face get very warm.
“You cheeky maggot,” I swiped her playfully on the arm, “I can’t believe you’ve kept it quiet all this time.”
“I like, couldn’t believe my luck–I get to meet my hero–um, I mean heroine and she offers me a place to live. Wow! I mean that’s like winning the lottery every day.”
“I hope you haven’t spread it too far? I still like to maintain some sort of credibility however hypocritical it ultimately is.”
“I haven’t told anyone ‘cept Trish, an’ she like knows anyway.” That answered a question I’d had in my mind a while back. “She tells me that you’re really an angel in disguise, so have never been a man.”
“That’s not a way I’d have described myself–an angel, unless we’re talking fallen variety. I’ve done some dreadful things in my past.”
“Trish told me that you’d had to kill someone to protect them all.”
“I’d rather not talk about it, but I won’t deny it–which makes me less than angelic by anyone’s standards.”
“Mummy, you’re much clever than me, but I see you as only doing things that needed to be done. You’re not spiteful, are you? I mean you tried to help that bloke in Southampton, and he tried to spoil things for you.”
“How do you know about that?”
“Gramps an’ me were talkin’ while you were out.”
“Did you know that Gramps had his own daughter, who was transgendered, but she was killed in a car crash?”
“Yeah, he told me–said you were very much alike.”
“Did he?” I smiled.
“Yeah, he said headstrong and always right.”
“Oh did he now? He’s a fine one to talk, so you can see where we get it from.”
“If he’s not your real dad, how could you get things from him?”
“By osmosis.”
“I thought they made fountain pens.”
“Nah, that’s Osmiroid. I didn’t think you lot knew anything about fountain pens?”
“My gran gave me one when I started school, it got stolen in the first week. I left it on my desk while I went to the loo. It was gone when I came back. I never got another one.”
“As soon as we get the car working tomorrow, we’ll stop and buy you one, as well as that doll we forgot today.”
“Yeah, clothes like, seem more important than dolls at the moment.”
“Uh-uh,” I said shaking my head, “Sometimes you need a doll or a teddy you can talk to when things are so bad you can’t bear to tell anyone else, even me.”
“I thought you like said I could tell you anything, Mummy?”
“Sometimes. Before that, you need to sort things in your own mind–maybe you can’t even put them into words–that’s where a doll or teddy can help you to sort it, then perhaps the next stage is talking to a real person–even a hypocrite like me.”
“You’re not a hypocrite, Mummy, I agree with Trish, you’re an angel, and I love you.”
“That’s very kind of you to say so, sweetheart, but I see the world through less rosy specs than you. I’ve been about a bit longer. We all have flaws, the older you get the more aware you become.”
“I still think you’re one of the nicest people I know, and one of the kindest.”
“Sometimes.”
“But the healing–that seeks out good people–yes?”
“I don’t know what the criteria are for it choosing me or anyone else–maybe it likes damaged people, who appreciate its healing qualities. Oh I dunno.” I shrugged because I honestly didn’t–possibly it came just to make my strange life even more perverse?
“Well I think it does–so there, end of discussion.”
“I beg your pardon? I’m in charge here, Missy.”
“Not this time–see even Paddington agrees with me,” she pointed to the bear Simon had given me years ago and who lies on this bed normally, but was now relegated to the chest of drawers–to make room for Julie. She looked pensive for a moment–“I’ll bet he could tell me all your naughty secrets,” she giggled.
I looked at him and thought he probably could–but as we didn’t have any marmalade to make sandwiches, bribery would be very difficult. Nah, he’d stay quiet. Good ol’ Pad.
“Maybe I should ask him?” she persisted.
“He’s from Peru–unless you can speak Spanish, you’re wasting your time.”
“Hosta la vista babeeeeee,” she sniggered, “that’s about it, I’m afraid.”
“Well watch it then, or I’ll get you transferred to a salon in Seville, that would improve your Spanish no end.”
“You cruel, wicked Mummy,” she said pretending to cry.
“Now you sound as if you know me. It’s after midnight, so shurrup and go to sleep.” I switched off the bedside light and it promptly fell on the floor and broke the bulb. Wonderful, just wonderful.
The next day after a cuppa and a biscuit, we locked up the house after finding the telly worked perfectly and of course the car started first time. Is the universe trying to tell me something? Yeah–get a different car.
On the way back we stopped at Cribb’s Causeway–a large out of town shopping mall where in Toys’R’us, we found a doll for Julie–a large soft one she could cuddle and confide in–I told her I’d put a microphone in it–and she laughed. I was only joking.
In John Lewis, I bought her a fountain pen and also got one for the two boys and the three girls. Meems may be a bit small yet, but I’d like her to at least know a little about them–they are the ultimate word processor, according to Simon–mind you his is worth quite a lot of money–I know, because I bought it. The ones today, were expensive enough for there to be capital punishments if they lose them, but I wouldn’t tell them until after they’d accepted them. Mind you it could be hard to write if someone’s cut yer ‘ead orff? I sound like the Red Queen in Alice in Wonderland–which reminds me they’re doing the film of that, with Johnny Depp and Helena Bonham-Carter, might take the kids to see that.
We got home in time for me to collect the girls from school–they danced about like they hadn’t seen me for months, not one day. Oh well, the joys of parenthood–and most of the time, I’m actually enjoying it. Julie came with me–she seems to be very clingy at the moment–maybe the extra hormones? Or has she bonded more strongly than I have? I suppose she’s more vulnerable than I am, though all I have to say is, Seville, to get her to behave–hee hee.
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Comments
It is fascinating
It is fascinating the way you, Angharad, develop your characters over time. Gramps developed a strong Lalands accent he either did not have or suppressed before, Stella went from being a no nonsense urinary tract specialist nurse through a basket case to a responsible young single mother, and now Julie grows from a dysfunctional trans teen with lots of resentments and hangups, to a sensitive, intelligent young girl.
Of course it helps to have a long story for these characters to develop in !
I hope you will forgive the comparison please, but Bike has become the Archers of the TG Storysites. Long may it continue.
Angharad's imagination and persiverence and sheer talent is unparalleled. Bike is definitely addictive, but unlike nicotine or alcohol not dangerous to your health.
Briar
Briar
It Is Amazing How Things Happen
It is amazing how things happen. I think the blue light purposely messed with the car and the TV because it knew that Cathy and Julie needed to talk and bond deeper with each other. Just like with Trish, Cathy's past makes no difference to Julie. Julie sees that she can be a successful woman just by seeing her live her life. I tend to agree with the view that Cathy is an angel who lives here on Earth and uses her many talents to help others in need. I have loved this story from the beginning and I want to see it continue for as long as Angharad wants to continue.
Wuthering Dormice-899
One NEVER can tell what Angharad, or Bonzi will have for us to read, each day, and that's what makes Bike such a fun read.
May Your Light Forever Shine
May Your Light Forever Shine
Julie.
There see.
All kids are nice if they are treated right and given a chance to respond. Sometimes it takes a bit of time but with nurturing and love they can get there.
Good ole' Cathy. Ever the healer even when the blue light is not in the ascendancy.
Julie's right. She's certainly won the lottery and 'pillow talk' is one of the best healers especially for kids! The kids will decide when they no longer want to slide into be with mum.
You'll be surprised by this but my wife used to climb into bed with her mum just to chat even after we were married. I learned this when we were staying there after my wife's first trip home from a 13 month sea voyage as 'the captain's wife'. Her father sent me up with the tray of tea and biscuits and I thought my wife would have been sitting in the chair chatting to her mum. But no, - there she was under the duvet with her mum. My wife was about twenty eight and I was about thirty two. It was the first time our unborn daughter had declared her feelings and both mother to be and grandmother to be were shrieking with joy as they felt our unborn daughter kicking furiously. I was a jealous as hell because I'd never had a mum to climb into bed with.
Helen could see I was envious so she patted her side of the bed and turned her tummy towards me so that I could also feel my daughter kicking for the first time.
Naturally grand-dad came up to see what the commotion was about but he just sat on the chair and grew all weepy.
Go for it Cathy and Julie. Pillow talk is one of the best therapies around!
Love and hugs,
Beverly.
Beverly Taff.
This is wierd. I haven't changed my password but the site wont dispayl all my thingies at the side like 'Submit Story'!
All the previous comments
All the previous comments beat me to mine, so all I can say is WOW, 899 episodes of "Bike"! I, too hope that Angahrad continues her story for as long as she feels like writing it. It is a fun, sweet, loving and yet at times provocative story. By provocative, I mean it gets a person to think about some of the issues that have been put out there for anyone reading the story. Angahrad, thank you in so many ways. Jan
In the days
when i went too school (yes it was a long time ago!!!) You had no choice in your writing equipment, it just had to be a fountain pen, (Computers were some distance in the future!)Ballpoint pens were an absolute no-no...Which i have to say was a shame....Because on more than one occasion a pen leaked in my bag onto my school work...Cue lots of explanations to teachers and unfortunately a few after school detentions.....So i think you can see why the fountain pen is not something i get too nostalgic about....Nice too look at, Nice too hold!...But give me a word processor anytime!!!
Kirri
That didn't happen
in my girly pencil case :p
I still have a fetish about fountain pens and have several verging on many - not all expensive ones, I hasten to add. I use one regularly as well, which often gets comments from my patients.
Angharad
Angharad
I've used fountain pens on and off
I too worry about leakage. Having a big ink stain in your shirt or pants pocket isn't very elegant and pocket protectors are out of fashion.
As a advanced amateur woodworker I have made some very nice fountain pens (and others) from various kinds of wood. When I use one I use one of my own.
You were lucky.
We were expected to use dip pens from the ink in the built-in ink wells on our desks :) When I could write by hand (which I have difficulty doing now) I always found fountain pens, even the Parker 51s we used to sell in our shop, rarely worked properly and dried up when I scribbled quick notes. I much preferred pencil or ball point. Now I much prefer a keyboard.
I wonder if Cathy threatened young Julie with Seville because she was thinking of Seville oranges and the marmalade she needed to bribe Paddington. We're well stocked up with marmalade and there's a stock of Seville oranges in the freezer to ensure supply until next January.
Robi
wisdom of a teenager
“I’d rather not talk about it, but I won’t deny it—which makes me less than angelic by anyone’s standards.â€
“Mummy, you’re much clever than me, but I see you as only doing things that needed to be done. You’re not spiteful, are you? I mean you tried to help that bloke in Southampton, and he tried to spoil things for you.â€
Everyone sees Cathy's virtues. Wish Cathy would get the message.
Once I had an Osmiroid*…
…fountain pen at prep school—and a Platignum, several in fact; ah the nostalgia of it all. I also had a Biro (which ruined my handwriting). When I passed my Common Entrance exam to go to public school I was given a Parker Duofold, which I still have. When I got my A-levels I was given a Sheaffer Snorkel, a real classic which also I still have and which is still in regular use. I have another fountain pen, which I inherited from my step-father, a Parker 51—another classic. I only have a small collection, but it includes two nineteen thirties’ Swan fountain pens that were my Mum’s.
There's something special about fountain pens—even if they do suffer from “leaky-bladder syndrome†as they get older.
Gabi.
A self-confessed fountain pen nut.
* Doesn't the name “Osmiroid†tend to remind one of a rather painful affliction?
Gabi.
Say vee yah?
Amazing what one little word can do, when it's the right word. :-)
Interesting "revelations" :-) I dunno about a dolly, I never had one, but Teddie is an awesome companion. The two of us have been through a LOT together, and she's always there to help. She's a cute little panda, with a nose that's a tad off to one side. :-)
I do recall "fixing" the microphone on a radio and then on a cassette player (the mic let the little yellow and blue boxes act like a loud speaker...) It was so much easier listening to my song birds without the "amplification"... The speakers just couldn't handle things. :-) Neither daughter seemed to mind, and later both said it was fine (when they were old enough to tell.) :-)
That brand of fountain pen I've not found, but the ones I had were wonderful... Once you'd used them long enough for the "flat" spot to wear where you needed it to - oh the flowing prose. :-) And, it was a bad thing trying to borrow a friend's... It just didn't work. :-)
Thanks for an interesting episode...
Annette
Is Cathy an Angel?
I vote yes. She was first described as an Angel, when she and Stella visited her mom on her death bed. Her mom told the nurses that she had been visited by two beautiful angels.
I expect that when her father beat her that last time, when she was Charlie and she almost died, is when she was rescued by being combined with an angelic female spirit. This angelic spirit has both helped her grow as Cathy and exhibit angelic powers.
At times, Cathy is a celebrity in spite of herself. She exudes a compelling charisma for good and love. It draws those in need to her. It also causes a few, like her old school chum, to try to destroy her. See what happens to those who oppose Cathy with malice?
Angharad, this is an intelligent, well written and thought provoking story. I bet you are the one who has imbued Cathy with this endearing quality. Does this make you an Angel also? Thanks for the lovely story.
Hugs,
Trish-Ann
~There is no reality, only perception~
Hugs,
Trish Ann
~There is no reality, only perception~
Paddington
Was blown up in Cathy's previous car. I remember it clearly, and something about Simon getting her another. This was before the stuff hit the fan the 3rd time or such.
Always wanted a Mont Blanc fountain pen
I sympathize with no one over fountain pens leaking. As an Engineer and draftsman, I used to draw plans using a drafting
bow. this looks like the slightly open beak of a crow, that was dipped in India ink. It held a droplet of ink between the jaws, the width of the line made by an adjustment screw. If you hesitated, all the ink came out at once, ruining a drawing that you've spent hours or days on. These made the modern nibs you dip as simple to use. This may be reason most Engineers are so anal (hey, clean up your minds). Thankfully, these went the way of slide rules, for those born after 1968, look them up.
Cefin