The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike) Part 1023 by Angharad Copyright © 2010 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

I went to bed and actually missed Simon, the bed felt very large and lonely–damn his meeting at that wretched bank, I mean, he’s supposed to be recovering from PTSD or something. What could be so important that he’s had to go into a meeting when he’s supposed to be on sick leave?

I reached for my mobile and sent him a text. ‘Miss u, C x.’

I settled down and tried to relax but I couldn’t. Suddenly my mobile peeped indicating a text had been received. I picked it up with bated breath only to find it was from my supplier offering me cheaper calls in Europe. I deleted it in disgust and put the phone back on the bedside table.

I turned over and tried to sleep on my side but I felt my eyes getting moist and before long there were blobs of water hitting the pillow. For a moment I didn’t hear the phone beep, then I realised it had and turned back to snatch it off the table. I had to wipe my eyes before I could see it clearly enough to read.

‘Miss u 2, b bak 2moro luv u. S xxx’

Of course this caused me to cry some more and then I felt ridiculous for doing so, but at least he said he loved me. I felt embarrassed looking a total wreck while reading his text, but resisted the urge to get out of bed to comb my hair before rereading it. That would have been too much.

When I’d calmed down I did go to the loo again and cooled my eyes with some cold water, before taking Paddington to bed with me–so romantic, wearing wellies to bed!

I turned the pillow over to avoid the wet bits and amazingly I went to sleep thinking romantically about Simon–I know, I sound like a lost cause but I did miss him and he is my husband–a phrase which still feels impossible–but isn’t simply because I have a piece of paper which says I’m female.

When the alarm started the radio the next morning, I really didn’t want to get up but thankfully my sense of duty meant I rolled out of bed and was in the bathroom before I was fully cognizant of the fact. I showered and felt a little better, I combed my hair, finished drying myself, felt some blubber coming on my waist and poked out my tongue which looked rather coated.

I dressed and roused the three misskateers, then woke the boys. I also roused Julie and asked her to help. To my surprise and delight, she actually got out of bed. The boys got themselves ready except, Danny realised he hadn’t had his sports kit washed. I sent him to put it in the machine on a short cycle–not shorts cycle. Meanwhile I got the girls up and helped them shower and did their hair. Then they dressed while I went to organise breakfast.

Danny was down watching the washing machine. “How about helping me–watching that won’t make it finish any quicker you know?”

He shrugged and kept muttering that he’d be late. “And whose fault would that be?”

“The stupid machine.”

“The machine isn’t stupid, it’s programmed to do certain things, and once it’s finished we can pop your stuff in the tumble dryer and hopefully it’ll be dry enough for you to take to school. Now come on–help me lay the table.”

He grumbled, but did start fishing packets of cereal from the larder and I made some tea and some toast. I limited myself to one slice and a banana, plus the essential cup of tea–without it, I’d never manage to do anything.

The girls arrived, as did Billy, who seemed half asleep and was only up now because Julie was nagging him like crazy. He was grumbling, but she was harrying him and he didn’t retort, probably because she’s quite a bit older than he is.

I made the girl’s packed lunches–why couldn’t they have school meals like everyone else? I’d try them again, or I’d try and persuade Trish. If she had them, the other two would be a pushover and it would save me several valuable minutes in the mornings. Time is always so short before the school run. I wonder if I could teach Trish to drive–nah, she wouldn’t be able to see over the steering wheel.

Danny’s kit went into the dryer and it was still warm when he threw it into his bag–did I mention he plays football for the school? They have a tournament coming up, I must see if I can get to some of it, show him some support.

“When does it start?” I asked about the tournament.

“Today–it’s a knockout thing.”

“What time?”

“This afters.”

“Okay, I’ll come with the girls when I collect them.”

“Thanks, Mum.” I gave him a hug and he went off with his tail in the air. I gave Billy one too, so he seemed a bit happier. Funny creatures, boys.

I told the girls to remind me that we were going to watch Danny play, and they were quite excited about supporting their brother. I thought I’d better pack some warm clothes, as we seemed beset by cool breezes.

Simon got home by lunch time, I was busy making the bed when he came in and snuck up to the bedroom and goosed me while I was bent over the bed with both my hands tucking the bottom sheet in. Of course I shouted and then chased the silly galoot down the stairs.

On catching him, I hugged him until he kissed me–Julie groaned, she was doing the mountain of ironing that had accumulated and making quite a reasonable job of it. I asked Simon to make us some tea and went off to finish the bed.

I’d stripped Tom’s, too, so had enough for a load for the washer. I stuffed the linen into the machine and poured in the detergent and the softener. “I had some trouble with that the other night.”

“Oh yes, not with a certain tablecloth, was it?”

“How did you guess?”

“Shall we say my eyes still work, even if my brain doesn’t.”

“Okay, I’ll come clean–I spilt some wine on it and it wouldn’t come out.”

“It should have done, if you’d put it straight in on a cool wash.”

“Now you tell me.”

“Now you tell me, if you’d done so before...”

“Okay, I asked Stella, but she wasn’t sure, and by then I’d stuck it on a hot wash.”

“Simon, you give new meaning to the phrase helpless male.”

“Yeah okay, don’t rub it in.”

“It was a special tablecloth.”

“I know.”

“So why didn’t you say something?”

“Because I knew you’d be upset.”

“Only at the deceit you practiced.”

“Sorry, I was trying not to upset you.”

“Sure it wasn’t just saving your own embarrassment?”

“Yeah, that too.”

“Daddy?”

“Yes, poppet.”

“Did you know that Mummy was an actress?”

“Yeah, she demonstrates it most days.”

I scowled at him and he poked his tongue out at me.

“No, seriously–she played Lady Macbeth.”

“She’s just an old drama queen.”

It was a good job I wasn’t doing the ironing. He might have got himself injured.

“Here,” she shoved the sheet she’d copied from the internet of my review.

Simon took it and read it and his smile broadened. “I’ve always known she was a girl, really.”

“You’re about the only one,” I said, and he hugged me as I started to sniff in his arms.

“No, my family has always thought that of you, including my crazy sister–we have no doubts, so why do you?”

“It goes with the territory, I’m afraid.”

He hugged me and kissed me, “Never let anyone think you’re anything but a complete woman.”

“But I’m not, am I?”

“As far as I’m concerned you are–end of argument. Oh, I have something for you.” He handed me a plastic bag which, when I opened it, contained a damask tablecloth.

“You found another?”

“No, I found a specialist cleaner who has more or less restored it to its original condition–there is a very slight stain, but it hardly shows, it’s so faint.”

“Thank you.” I kissed him and hugged him with my head on his shoulder.