The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike) Part 1015 by Angharad Copyright © 2010 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

We spent a day of frantically doing the chores, so that when the kids came back from school we were able to feed and water them, and ourselves and then get ready to go and see Maureen.

The weather had turned warmer and I was able to wear a skirt without a draught blowing up my nether regions–okay it keeps them aerated but it also freezes your bum off–despite the layer of fat around it.

In fact I wore a dress and tarted things up with some makeup and bit of jewellery. The dress was a tiny floral print in a cornflower blue, with a square neck that showed a bit of cleavage, it was sleeveless and fitted at the waist, coming to just above my knee. I had a white linen jacket with it in case it got colder when we came home.

So compared to my epitome of decorum look, Julie looked like she was going clubbing–her bag was big enough to carry a club too. She had on a sparkly red vest thing with a black pelmet skirt, footless tights and ballet type shoes. She also carried a jacket, in black needlecord.

We clomped out to the car, despite the flat shoes she was wearing, they made a noise on hard surfaces, my white wedge sandals didn’t–well not nearly so much.
“You look nice tonight, Mummy.”

“Thank you sweetheart, so do you.” I glanced at her large sequin covered bag. “What’s that sticking out of your bag?” I pointed to the sheets of paper projecting from the top of her bag.

“Oh that,” she blushed and pushed it back into her bag, “something for Maureen.”

“Like what?”

“Promise you won’t laugh.”

“Why should I laugh?”

“I looked up that book by Plato on the internet, and I printed off what it said on Wiki for Maureen. I think she was struggling.”

“Did you look up Proust as well?”

“Yeah, I did a bit on that too. Why would anyone want to read all that stuff?”

“Some people enjoy that sort of stuff–I mean, why would anyone want to count dormice?”

“I dunno–um, to see if any were missing?”

I laughed and she blushed. “That’s a valid reason, but maybe the reason for them missing is important, like they’re indicators of what we’re doing to this planet.”

“Yeah, that’s what I mean.”

“I thought so, here we are–goodness if I spend much time here they’ll let me use the staff car park.”

“Is it any closer to the wards?”

“Probably not.”

“Could they designate one for visiting angel?”

I snorted and then roared with laughter. Anyone hearing us would have thought Julie just got me out of the asylum. We continued in high spirits until we got to Maureen’s room. She was reading her book and looking perplexed.

“I can hear the wheels turning,” I said as we went in, “Shall I bring some oil tomorrow?”

“No, bring me someone who can ‘elp me understand this–it’s bloody ‘ard going.”

“Nothing that’s worth having comes without some effort,” I said and smirked. “I have the answer to a maiden’s prayer.”

“What’s that then?”

“Little Miss Julie, who is now steeped and well versed in all the intricacies of Plato and his Republic. Aren’t you, sweetheart?”

She blushed like a holly berry. “Um–no I don’t, but I did a printout for you from the internet which might help you.” She passed over the sheaf of paper.

“Bless you, girl,” Maureen hugged her and kissed her on the cheek.

“So how’s the back?” I asked putting down my bag.

“I dunno, but I’ve ‘ad like ragin’ toothache all day.”

“Toothache?”

“Yeah, in me big toes.”

“Ah, obviously a case of foot and mouth. I brought a gun just in case we need to shoot you.”

“The docs seemed quite pleased when I told them, but gave me some pills for it–didn’t do no good though.”

“Okay, so we’re possibly getting somewhere–want some more healing?”

“Like I ‘ave to answer that.”

“I’m afraid so, it proves I’m not assaulting you.”

“Well, yeah, course I do, ma’am.”

Once more we helped her onto the bed and I pushed the blue light into her spine and once more she complained of heat and cold. The toothache was now in her whole foot.

“What are y’doin’ to me, ma’am?”

“Trying to weld the nerve fibres together I think.”

“ ‘Ow appropriate for a welder.”

“Actually, what I’m doing is heat treating your backside so the next time you cough your knickers will fall off.”

“You couldn’t arrange for something else to fall off, could ya?”

“Unfortunately not, I only act as a channel for the energy, what happens after that–isn’t my decision.”

“That’s bloomin’ funny then innit?”

“Not really, it means I can’t abuse it.”

“What’s to stop it abusin’ you, ma’am?”

“I don’t know other than I trust it implicitly.”

“That’s good enough f’ me then, ma’am.”

We were still chatting when a strange man arrived. “Is one of you, um, Julie, is it?”

“That’s me,” said Julie, stepping closer to me.

“What’s the problem, Mister um?” I challenged.

“I’m Dr Wetherspoon, and you are?”

“I’m Cathy Cameron, Julie’s foster mother.”

“Ah, look I know all about Julie from her dad. Her mum was very ill but is making huge progress since she visited. I wonder if she could do so again.”

“It wasn’t me,” said Julie.

“Look I know you’re changing into a girl, but your dad knows that and I think he’d recognise you, don’t you?”

“It wasn’t me who improved my mother.”

“Who was it then–your twin sister?” he spoke the last bit as a joke but he was quite sarcastic.

“It was I,” I said putting my arm round Julie’s waist in support of her.

“Oh–I thought she didn’t get on with you?”

“She doesn’t–in fact she hates my guts.”

“So how could you have helped her?”

“You mean beside spontaneously combusting while she watched–I suppose by talking to her.”

“So you spoke to her and she got better?”

I nodded.

“Just like that?”

I nodded again.

“So you’re like some horse-whisperer for people?”

“Yeah, that’s as good a description as any.”

“What did you say to her?”

“I can’t remember, why?”

“Because it did something to her that I couldn’t–I just wanted to know what it was.”

“I told her I was an angel who’d been sent to heal her, and told her to get better.”

“You’re sure that’s all?”

“As far as I can remember, why?”

“She spoke about there being a blue light which surrounded her.”

“I must have told her to see it.”

“Are you some sort of psychotherapist?”

“No, I’m a biologist.”

“She’s an angel, really,” interjected Julie.

“Is she,” he scoffed.

“Yes, she’s healed my mother, she saved my father earlier on.”

I tried to stop her but she ignored me.

“She saved me months ago and helped me be myself, she saved Maureen when she was beaten up, and is helping her to walk again–she’s saved loads of people in this hospital.”

“The mystery healing woman. I am delighted to meet you, could you see some more of my patients?”

“I’m sorry–I can’t and I’d be obliged if you’d keep this to yourself–I have five other children besides Julie, and I don’t think having the press chasing me would do them any good at all.”

“I see–but think of all the good you could do?”

“I do frequently, and I also think of all the bad things that could happen to me and my children because of it. I have a life too–you’re a physician, do you work twenty four seven?”

“No of course not, everyone needs some rest.”

“If you spread rumours of miracles or mysterious healing, I’ll be pursued every moment of the day by people looking for miracles.”

“I see–okay, I’ll say nothing, except it’s a crying shame you couldn’t help more people.”
He offered me his hand and I shook it gently. At the same time I was aware of the pain he had in his neck.

“Bloody hell–my whiplash, it’s easier.”

“If you breathe a word to anyone about this, it will come back ten times worse.”

“Is that a threat, Mrs Cameron?”

“No, a prediction.”

“Read tea-leaves too, do you?”

“No, nor do I patronise people. Good day Dr Weathervane.”

“Wetherspoon, Dr Wetherspoon.”

“Quite, good day.”

“D’you think ‘e’ll keep ‘is word?” asked Maureen.

“I don’t know.”

“Will you really make his neck ten times worse, Mummy?”

“No, of course not.”

“So that was an empty threat then?”

“Yes, but he doesn’t know that does he?”

Julie and Maureen giggled.