The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike) Part 1066 by Angharad Copyright © 2010 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

With all the work Stephanie was doing with my kids, I almost felt like her employer. Trish was just a question of keeping her stabilised, she’d done really well in school finishing top of the class and Livvie was tenth. I was so pleased with both of them.

Billie was dealing with issues of abuse and Julie had the trauma of the rape to deal with. The surgery had worked really well, that surgeon chap was absolutely brill, and within a week, she had more or less normal function in her derrier helped with moderate applications of laxatives.

I saw the young doctor who’d initially treated her and he came over to apologise while we were waiting for her surgery follow up. He told us that his girlfriend was a nurse and they were working nights together and when he mentioned Julie’s case to her, she told him to do swabs for the police for prosecution–which he did. She also told him to refer Julie to the rape counsellor, but apparently Julie declined–all this was news to me.

Finally he looked at Julie, “My chat with Claire, my girlfriend opened my eyes a bit to what you’d gone through–I’d been on duty for the best part of twenty hours, so I wasn’t at my best. I’m sorry, Julie, I wasn’t as helpful as I might have been nor as accepting as I should have been. I’m sorry, and I will understand if you wish to complain about it.”

Julie looked most embarrassed and looked at me for guidance. “I take it you’ll be a bit more understanding of the next transgender person you see?”

“She isn’t the first I’ve met, but she is one of the prettiest–you obviously take after your mum,” he said flannelling both of us. Julie blushed like a light bulb–one in a stop light. “If they’re like her, I might not just be nicer, I might fancy them.”

“She’s only fifteen, so before you say something you regret, it might be best if we say we accept your apology.” I looked at Julie who was still blushing but nodded her agreement.

“Thank you gracious ladies,” he bowed and walked away.

“What a tosser,” I said to Julie.

“Oh I dunno, I thought he was quite dishy.”

“Yeah–like syrup pancake, sickly sweet and no substance.”

“So why did you accept his apology?”

“Because if we did any other, it would have caused more trouble than it was worth, plus you could have been a marked patient next time you needed this place.”

“Oh, I see. The surgeon was quite nice, he told me he thought I was very convincing as a girl.”

“I should hope so, with all the coaching Trish and I have given you.”

“Trish?” she gasped.

“Yes, Trish, she has been a girl a bit longer than you,” and while we’re at it, Livvie has been one for longer than I, but no one has twigged me yet.

She was discharged as treatment complete and we went home. It was ten in the morning and as the day was turning warm, I asked the kids if they’d like to go anywhere. They wanted to go to the beach–but not Southsea–‘we always go there’.

“I suppose we could go to Hayling Island,” I proffered.

“Why can’t we go to Hastings and invade like Willie the Conk did?” Trish does enjoy her little jokes.

“Who wants to go?” I asked and they all did, including Julie. I felt like asking why. Instead I asked them to pack a towel, their bathing costumes, some sun cream and a change of clothes and a coat in case it turned cooler.

It looked like we were off to Hastings.

We used the Mondeo, because it was the only thing big enough to take them all. We put two seats in the boot, they lock in, and there are two seat belts–Tom had this done especially for us to carry everyone. Trish and Livvie sat in the back, Danny and Billie sat with Meems in the back seat and Julie sat very gingerly in the front passenger seat.

We arrived at Hastings about lunchtime, and after parking the car at exorbitant cost, traipsed off to find some food. Despite my protestations we ended up in McBurgers and they had burgers and fries. I had the sandwich I’d smuggled in plus a tea, which I hadn’t. Then it was off to the beach.

It’s mainly a shingle beach so the kids were disappointed. Trish and Livvie wanted to know where William landed. I told her I thought it was a bit further east at Norman’s Bay. The battle took place at somewhere called Senlac hill which is near Battle, named after the Battle of Hastings where William of Normandy defeated Harold Godwinston, an abbey was built there and it’s now a school.

Of course, after they’d finished messing about on the beach, Julie, lolling about in her bikini enjoying all the attention she was getting from adolescent males, Trish, Livvie and Mima running in and out of the sea and squealing, while Billie and Danny swam a bit. I think she was worried her boy bits might show under cossie, but they didn’t.

Julie lay on the beach sunbathing and getting her first tan lines, whilst I sat under the umbrella I’d brought with us, keeping out of the sun. The boys who were ogling her didn’t know the cleavage she was showing was mainly courtesy of the bikini bra, but it did her self esteem some good, I hoped. The cleavage I was showing was all organic and home grown, as were the wrinkles and cellulite.

At one point, Julie was blissfully snoozing lying prostrate, her bra undone for a better tan, and Danny ran up with a cup of seawater and poured it on her back. She jumped up and squealed, then screamed at him in less than ladylike language, realised she was flashing her less impressive chest and wrapped a towel round her while sitting and fuming.

I couldn’t do anything for trying to stifle the sniggers I was suffering–it was quite funny. She had her own back when some bloke tried to accost me as I was sitting reading the Guardian.

“You’re quite a stunner, aren’t you?” said this rather lethargic lothario.

“My husband seems to think so.”

“You jest. You’re far too young to be married, I suspect you’re still at university.”

“I am at a university, but teaching there, and I am married with six kids–I’m older than I look.”

“Mummy, may I have an ice cream,” said Julie in her best little girl voice, getting her own back.

“That’s your daughter?” he gasped.

“One of them–I was very young.”

“Yeah, so I see.”

“What time is Daddy collecting us?”

“When he gets off duty, darling.”

“Off duty, what does he do?” asked our would be chat up master.

“He’s a chief inspector of police, why?”

“Give him my best,” said the drippy guy and he beat a hasty retreat.

“That was a lie, Mummy dearest.”

“Yeah, so?” I snapped back, “It had the desired effect.”

“That is very true.”

After the beach, we went in search of ice creams, and after ingesting them, set off for the town of Battle, where the demise of Harold happened.

We had a quick look at Battle Abbey school, and then walked up the hill where it all happened. The kids were running about when Trish suddenly stopped them. “Mummy, is this where King Harold died?”

“I believe they said it was under the high altar of the abbey, but lots of other men died here as well.”

“Are we like walking on graves?” asked Billie.

“I doubt it, but I don’t know–it was a long time ago, nearly a thousand years. So if you are, I’m sure the occupants won’t mind.”

However, they decided that they didn’t want to visit a battlefield anymore and asked me to take them home. I actually agreed with them. Battlefields aren’t places for children unless it’s to teach them respect for those who perished there and the futility of much of it.

On the way home I explained what I remembered from history that the English had marched from near Newcastle in three weeks having defeated a Viking army there, to fight another battle here in Sussex. They should have won, but William tricked them and Harold was killed, leaving things open to a Norman invasion and generations of virtual slavery of the common folk.