The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike) Part 992 by Angharad Copyright © 2010 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

“If the size of my breasts is the criterion for selection, wouldn’t Katie Price be a better candidate?”

“Who?” Gareth obviously didn’t recognise the name.

“The glamour model otherwise known as Jordan.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, what does she know about ecology?”

“Very little I should imagine. Look, I’m a lecturer in biological science, specialising in ecology with an interest in mammals and a particular interest in dormouse ecology and population studies. It would be an insult to the more qualified members of that team for me to lead it.”

“So if that was the only problem, you’d consider it?”

“What do you mean–and why do I smell a rat?”

“Perhaps you have more acute olfactory organs than I do, I can’t smell anything but your perfume. What do I mean? I mean if the others were amenable to your leading the team, would you consider doing so?”

“There are two professors on this list–surely they should lead it?”

“Ah, but if we pick one, we alienate the other.”

“Oh come off it, they’re not going to be that childish. Appoint the one with the greater seniority–you know, older uni or been in post longer, or published more papers. Why am I saying all this, you know which one it would be?”

“Both are very senior, possibly about to become emeritus professors within the next year or two.”

“Well there you are; question answered; they’d have the time to sleep on committee meetings, I mean sit on meetings or committees or both.”

“They all agreed it needed someone dynamic to lead it.”

“That lets me out then, I’m not at all dynamic.”

“That’s a matter of opinion.”

“Yeah, my opinion.”

“Cathy, this is the most important job you’ll ever have.”

“Second most important job,” I corrected.

“What is going to be more important? This is even bigger, potentially than a chair at Oxbridge.”

“I don’t want a chair at Oxbridge, if I wanted one at all, it would be my alma mater, I’d want.”

“Sussex?”

“Yes.”

“You could have a bit of a wait for that, but coming from leading a UN committee would be quite a leg up in such a later selection.”

“Even that isn’t the biggest job for me.”

“Okay, what is it then compare it to the UN one.”

“There is no comparison.”

“There has to be, is it Yale or Harvard, or Stanford?”

“No–it’s being a wife and mother. The pension plan isn’t as good, and I don’t get to write many papers, but it’s the most rewarding study area of them all.” I beamed at Gareth and I think he blushed.

“Why do women always outmanoeuvre men?”

“They don’t, men tend to paint themselves into corners by being too didactic.”

“Are you suggesting that women are more flexible?”

“Are we talking about physical characteristics or mental?”

“Women are definitely more mental,” he winked at me so I ignored both the comment and the gesture.

“Women are more flexible thinkers.”

“Aren’t they just, a previous girlfriend was the most flexible thinker I’ve ever met. She could think no meant yes when it applied to using my credit card and be saying yes with her body language while saying no verbally.”

“Oh, that’s the first time you’ve ever mentioned a girl friend.”

“Is it–hardly appropriate in the conversations we have is it?”

“I don’t know, that would depend on if you wanted to talk about it or not.”

“I think we’d be better leaving that particular topic in the history books.”

“Fine, more tea, then I shall have to collect some children.”

He glanced at his watch, “Yes, I’d like some more tea.”

“If you’re not tied up at the moment, why not take Stella out.”

“She wouldn’t want to go out with me.”

“No? That’s why she’s been rubbing herself against you like a cat in heat.”

“Sorry, I wasn’t looking.”

“Why was that?” I wondered if he was gay or something despite having a girlfriend.

“Truthfully?”

“Of course.”

“The woman I fancy most is married.”

“Gareth, is this someone I know?”

“Could be?”

“She wouldn’t happen to have a husband called Simon and loads of children, would she?”

“She could, do you know her then?”

“I have a horrible feeling I do.” I blushed and rose to make the tea. He got up to help me. “Um–you stay here, Gareth, I need a moment to think.”

I almost ran out to the kitchen. I was in such a dither that I didn’t notice Julie standing at the ironing board. “Will you do one for me, too?”

I started, and jumped around to face her, “Sorry, darling, I didn’t see you there.”

“Too busy dreaming about Gareth were we?”

“Certainly not, I’m a married woman.”

“Doesn’t stop him mooning over you though, does it? D’you think I’ll ever get married.”

“What do you mean, him mooning over me?”

“Geez, Mummy, I thought I was supposed to be the novice here.”

I went hotter than the water in the boiling kettle. “Just what do you mean?”

“He fancies you.”

“How can anyone fancy someone they know used to be a boy?”

“Quite easily by the looks he gives you.”

I blushed even hotter and poured hot water into the teapot.

“Don’t you usually put some teabags in there as well?” teased Julie.

I glanced into the steaming teapot. “Of course, silly me.”

“It’s quite funny watching Auntie Stella frothing at the knickers to attract his attention and all the time he’s watching you.”

“Oh no, not a rerun of Des?” I said to myself.

“Who’s Des?”

“Never you mind.” I clattered mugs on to the tray.

“I’ll just ask Auntie Stella, shall I?”

“Don’t you dare or I really will get cross.”

“Well, tell me then.”

“Not now, I won’t.”

“Okay, later then?”

“Perhaps–I don’t know if I can trust you to keep your trap shut.”

“Gee thanks, Mummy.”

“This isn’t some game played by teenagers, this is family destroying stuff.”

Julie stepped back. “Why do you always have to put me down?”

“I’m not, darling, I’m just trying to make you aware of the consequences that sometimes attach themselves to these events.”

“You fancy him too, don’t you?”

“I’m a healthy, red blooded woman, of course I fancy him, but in the same way I would George Clooney. It’s just a fanciful idea, a daydream–I love your Daddy, and that’s what counts.”

“Are you going to take your dream-boat a cuppa then?” She smirked and I walked briskly out of the kitchen, so briskly, I forgot the milk and sugar. Julie appeared with them a moment later and an empty mug. I poured her some tea and she winked at me as she left.

“You think I should ask Stella out, do you?”

“I think that would be an excellent idea, certainly a better one than trying to get me to lead this UN thing.”

“I still think you’d be brilliant at it.”

“I think I know myself better than you do, first, I don’t have the time; second, it could become very embarrassing if the tabloids worked out who I am, or shall we say, what I was. So ask one of the others.”

“What if they said, you were the best for the job?”

“But they won’t unless they’re crazy, and certainly wouldn’t if they knew about me, would they?”

“They do know about you–remember biology is a small world–and they still think you’re the best for the job.”

“Prove it.” I dared him because I knew he was bluffing.

He reached into his brief case and handed me a sheaf of paper, printed emails. “That proof enough?”