The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike) Part 987 by Angharad Copyright © 2010 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

After dinner, Simon asked if I wanted him to take me to Southampton or to stay and organise the children. I was quite capable of driving myself, but I’m often so tired after healing that someone to bring me home sounded good.

“That would be super, thank you, darling.” I almost purred at him trying to restore our relationship to ‘pre Julie bollocking’ levels.

“Can I come too,” asked Julie. She was pleading with her eyes and while part of me thought she would be in the way, she had a point to prove to herself, and such things help in growing up.

“On one condition,” I stipulated.

“Okay.” She nodded to give emphasis to her answer.

“You do exactly what I say, and I mean exactly, do you understand?”

“Yes, Mummy, I promise I will.”

“I hope that you actually mean it this time.”

She looked very chastened and Simon was about to say something but bit his tongue. “I do, Mummy, I swear I do.”

I nodded at Simon, who said nothing, his expression looking irritated, and I presumed, with me, but I felt a need to make sure Julie knew what she was saying, and as a sub-adult, she should understand my point and her answer.

I asked Stella and Tom if they would do the honours. Tom was quite happy, it had been a while since he’d put the children to bed. Stella was less pleased but seeing as she knew how serious things were, she’d help out. I presumed she meant Maureen’s condition, but I wasn’t entirely sure. I didn’t seek clarification.

The journey to Southampton, about twenty miles, was mostly in silence. Julie sat quietly in the back of Simon’s Jaguar, and Simon only spoke when pointing out something as we passed it. We arrived in Southampton about eight and discovered that the afternoon staff were still on duty, and the sister was adamant that visiting time was over. Despite my attempts to wheedle my way in, we were turned away.

After a brief discussion we considered either a pub or the cinema, Julie and Simon fancied watching Ironman some corny superhero film sequel. I agreed and slept through most of it even if the attractive Robert Downey Jr was in it. I still hadn’t forgiven him for his absurd portrayal of Sherlock Holmes.

At approximately ten thirty we tried again and were more successful. I explained to the night sister that we had been turned away earlier and she nodded us in. “Just don’t embarrass me with any miracles tonight; I don’t want her walking back to Portsmouth with you, okay?”

“I’m only interested in stabilising her, so her body can do the rest.”

“I suppose you’re standing in for Raphael, are you?”

“Who?” I asked completely unaware of what she was talking about.

“The Archangel Raphael, isn’t he the healer?”

“Is he? Oh yes, in the Apocrypha.”

“You know your Bible, lady, why doesn’t that surprise me?”

“It doesn’t mean that I actually believe any of it though, does it? It was shoved down my throat as a child–my neck is still sore.”

“Pity, there’s wisdom there as well as nonsense.”

“Probably, look much as I’d love a discourse on the merits of the King James over the Standard English versions, I really need to see my cousin.”

“You know where she is, oh who’s this, another cousin?”

“It would be a third cousin then this is my adopted daughter, Julie.”

“I was going to say, if she’s your daughter you must have been a child bride or certainly a gymslip mother.”

“Neither,” I smiled and Simon was smirking behind her. “She’s adopted as, I said, she ran away from religious parents and ended up with me, a real sinner.”

“Oh I’m sure you’re an awful woman.”

“I suspect I’d be an even worse man.”

She roared with laughter and Simon and Julie nearly wet themselves. Simon stood with his arm around Julie, so perhaps he was unconsciously protecting her. He left me to fend for myself. It was good to see them bonding, but I’m supposed to be his bloody wife.

I entered the small side room in which Maureen lay. The bruising looked even more Technicolor than yesterday. I could quite easily see how Julie had run away, but I tried to focus on the person underneath all the bruising.

I sat and held her hand, “Hello, Maureen, it’s Cathy come back to torment you again.” Her hand twitched which I’m sure was her trying to squeeze my hand. “Did you try to squeeze my hand?”

Her reply, at least I hoped it was rather than just an uncontrolled reflex, was another faint squeeze. “I hope that means you can hear me.”

Another twitch and I was pretty sure we had some communication. “I’ve brought Julie with me, is it alright if she sits in with us?” The hand twitched again. “Is that a yes?” Another twitch.

“Hello, Maureen, it’s Julie,” she said very timidly in a voice which was almost shaking with emotion.

“Do you mind if she holds your other hand for a bit?” I asked. The hand twitched.

Julie gave me a horrified look and I hissed at her to do exactly as I said. She sat the other side of the bed and reluctantly held the discoloured and bandaged hand, the drip emerging from the wrist and a pulse meter thing on her finger.

I waited until Julie got herself–comfortable–was probably the wrong word–but you know what I mean. She stopped fidgeting and I began what I hoped would be a healing session.

“Listen to my voice, and only my voice, Maureen. As I talk; come as close as you can to me from wherever you currently are. Follow my voice, it will lead you to the light. Can you hear me clearly?” The hand twitched. “Good, now tune into my voice and come towards me, look for the blue or white light. When you see it, let me know.” I continued saying this and after a few minutes, another twitch. “Can you see a light?” I got a response. “Is it blue?” Nothing happened. “Is it white?” a definite response. Apparently in hypnotherapy, this is known as an IMR, an ideo motor response. How do I know? I read an article on it a while back.

I continued with my healing, noticing that Julie was slumped in the chair still holding Maureen’s hand, but her eyes were closed. I wondered if she was asleep–apparently she wasn’t, but more of that in a moment.

I led Maureen from wherever she was towards the light, rising on it to come closer to consciousness when she felt able, but to allow the light to heal her, even when I wasn’t there in person, I had established a link with the universe so it would be permeating her body all the time, helping to heal her more quickly.

I sat quietly for a moment trying to tune into her energies so I could help the light get into her, and it would show me where she was in the healing cycle–don’t ask, I know what I mean.

Suddenly, I got a very lucid impression of Julie floundering in like deep water, surrounded by strange creatures which I could only describe as fishy demons. As I seemed to drift towards her, someone else swam–I think that’s the correct term–and attacked the demons. It was Maureen–and she was fighting for Julie, not the other way round. What was going on?

He touched me on the shoulder and I jumped back into wakefulness. “What?” I gasped.

“Hey, Babes, it looked like you were having a nightmare.”

“Oh, Mummy, that was a horrible dream, but you and Maureen saved me.”

“Don’t forget, Daddy, he was there, too.”

“Of course, thank you, Daddy.”

“What did I do?” asked Simon looking perplexed.

“You were there, Darling, you were there for us all.”

“I was? Um, yes, I was.” He said puffing his chest out.

Maureen’s hand closed tightly on mine, squeezed twice and then relaxed. I knew then she was on the mend.