Wuthering Dormice (aka Bike) Part 936 by Angharad Copyright © 2010 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

So Stella was right, Simon wasn’t having an affair, he was busy with affairs of state. I sent him the figures and an hour later, he texted me to say they were okay to him. He also said it was a good paper. That pleased me.

The next morning after breakfast, while Julie was practicing her ironing again–could say it was a pressing matter–she said to me, as I was making a casserole for dinner–“I think I’d like to have a mooch around Salisbury.”

“Okay, we’ll go there one weekend, take the other kids, too.”

“Um–I was thinking, maybe of taking up Siân on her offer.”

“What?” I almost dropped the knife on my foot. “You won’t if I have anything to do with it.”

“Why not? It sounds fun.”

“It won’t be if ever she gets your knickers off–who knows what she’ll say or do.”

“There’s one way to find out,” teased Julie.

“If you’re just winding me up, young lady, be careful–I react badly to it and people get hurt.”

“I wasn’t winding you up, Mummy, I was just thinking it might be fun.”

“Fine–go, but you’ll do it without my approval and I’m unsure how it will affect our relationship.”

“Why should it–like affect our relationship.”

“Because you’re going to put me through a weekend of uncertainty about you and your wellbeing.”

“Don’t be silly, Mummy, what could she do–even if she gets mad, she can only send me home with a flea in my ear. I mean she can hardly make me gay–can she?”

“What do I know–I’m only the woman who tries to keep this place running smoothly for you lot.”

“And we appreciate your efforts–but I’d like to do some things on my own too, Mummy, and Siân did offer, and you did say she has a partner.”

“I’m not happy about it–but you’re sixteen, so you must make up your own mind; just don’t expect me to support it.”

“Why are you so against it–she is a friend of yours?”

“We’ve both changed–me more than her–but notice it wasn’t me she was trying to tempt. She knows what I am, and she doesn’t want it–which is just as well, because I’m not interested anyway.”

“So why should that stop me?”

“Because you aren’t inside what it says on the tin. So what would happen, I don’t know.”

“Who says she’s interested in me–that might have been just to wind you up.”

“Yes it might have been–well it’s up to you, I disapprove of it–but you go if you want.”

“What if I was lesbian?”

“We can play what if, all day. But to answer your question–if you were, then I’d deal with it and still love you. Is that why you want to go–to find out?”

“Maybe–I like, dunno, do I? I dunno what I am,” she ran upstairs crying, and I had to move quickly to rescue one of Stella’s tops from the iron.”

I popped the casserole in the fast oven of the Aga to bring it up to cooking temperature–then in half an hour it would go in the slow oven and cook until tea time.

I let Julie deal with her feelings by herself–I had my own to cope with, and on top of my recent spat with Simon, I didn’t need those of an adolescent. If she wanted me, she knew where I was. If she sought succour from Stella–she’d get short shrift.

I finished the ironing, wondering if taking Julie in was such a good idea. I suppose it was–I was very fond of her, but teenage and adolescence is about finding yourself and giving everyone else a headache.

I took armfuls of ironing upstairs, dumped mine on the bed, Tom’s on his bed, gave Stella hers, she was changing Puddin’ who squirmed and weed on her clean nappy, much to my amusement and Stella’s annoyance.

I put the girl’s stuff on Trish’s bed, I’d come back in a moment to hang it up, then up to the boys room–they could hang up their own, but they wouldn’t unless I stood over them–so I’d be back to do that as well.

Taking a deep breath, I walked into Julie’s room after knocking. She clicked her phone off and looked very guilty. “Your clean laundry.” I handed over the clothes to her. “Well, was she there?” I said after a short pause.

Julie nodded.

“And?”

“She’s coming to get me.”

“When?”

“On Sunday.”

“Mothering Sunday–how nice.” With that I walked out of the room and went downstairs before I either strangled her or said something nasty.

“Alright if I do some nappies?” asked Stella who was in the kitchen.

I shrugged, and went to switch the kettle on.

“What’s the matter? I’ll leave them if you want.”

“No–it’s nothing to do with your nappies. I just lost my first argument with Julie. I forgot that teenagers are autonomous and only do what they want–if they can work out what they do want.”

“Oh–what about?”

“Siân invited her to Salisbury next weekend.”

“And you’re going to let her go–she’ll eat her.”

“At least she’d die with a smile on her face–it’s the disappointment in my judgement.”

“Why? How is that the problem–the problem is Offa’s Dyke and a young virgin.”

“Once she discovers Julie’s plumbing anomaly, I think it will resolve itself–it’s if Julie becomes hurt by the discovery that worries me.”

“You don’t think Siân would hit her do you?”

“No, of course not–I don’t even know if she would try to seduce her. There is no such thing as a typical lesbian–they’re not all promiscuous womanisers–I mean they say the same about nurses.”

“Well it’s true about nurses–especially the gay ones–and a particular doctor we both know.”

“Okay, Stella, let’s accept you had an unfortunate experience with Siân, but you were both drunk and she might tell it differently.”

“Why? What did she say–bloody Welsh liar.”

“She didn’t say anything–nor was she surprised you weren’t married.

“The tart. We both know why I’m still single.”

“I told her about Des.”

“Oh–so you know I’m not gay–it’s all her. If she says anything different to my story, you know she’s lying.”

“Stella–I don’t give a shit if you’re gay, straight or figure of eight–you’re a mature woman–you can theoretically deal with your sexuality. Julie is still a child–that’s what I’m concerned about.”

“Of course.”

“I’m not a child,” said Julie walking into the kitchen. “I’m legally old enough to have sex.”

“Fine–carry on, just don’t come crying to me about it afterwards.” Why did I say that? I meant the exact opposite–oh bugger–I’m not very good at confrontational situations.

“I won’t–don’t worry.” Julie turned on her heel and went back upstairs.

“Well said,” Stella nodded at me.

“No it wasn’t, I completely messed it up.”

“But you were congruent with your own feelings.”

“That’s beside the point–what if it all goes wrong? I don’t want to fish her body out of a river or cut it down from a tree. She is still a child underneath all that paint and padding–emotionally, she’s about ten or twelve. This is all her hormones talking not her brain–that’s still pupating and is probably a gooey mess inside her skull.”

“Yuck–too graphic. So what’re you going to do?”

“That’s the sixty four dollar question.”

“And your answer is?”

“Oh go and wash your nappies–I’m going to speak with Mata Hari.”

“Who?”

“Our femme fatale, in the hope I prevent an equally sticky end.”

“What are you on about?”

“Mata Hari, was shot by the French as a spy. She did try espionage but she wasn’t very good at it.”

“You’re a mine of useless information aren’t you?”

“Especially about dormice.”

“Is espionage prevalent amongst dormice then?”

“Oh terribly–didn’t you know?”

“I’m going to wash my nappies before I get drawn into a long, drawn-out nonsense argument or shaggy dog story.”

“Suit yourself, I’m going to speak with Julie.”