The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike) Part 1080 by Angharad Copyright © 2010 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

I think Meems eventually understood what I was trying to say about keeping some secrets in the family, securely in the family. It had probably taken about ten or fifteen minutes–it felt as if it had reduced my life expectancy by as many years. Oh well, if she blabs, she blabs. I’ll kill her later and feed her to the stuff in that ice cream tub–I’m sure it’s a manifestation of The Blob or Creature from the Black Lagoon. You can see how I spent some of my grant–watching B-movies at the SU film club.

I remember coming out from watching a film at the student’s union based on a story by John Wyndham, which we all thought was triffid. We saw Myra Breckenridge amongst others, and I dreamt about looking like Raquel Welch–if only–that would have been an Incredible Journey, wouldn’t it? I suppose I shouldn’t complain, I’ve done alright really–in fact I’ve done better than most genetic females when I look at all my blessings–but this won’t get dinner cooked so I’d better get stuck in.

I roasted a chicken for dinner, and with our assembled throng, the poor little five pounds of cluck, wouldn’t go very far, so I added some sausage meat stuffing mixed with mushrooms and sage and onion. I roasted a whole kilo of potatoes, and did carrots and broccoli for the other veg. The dessert would be strawberries and cream if anyone survived the main course. I didn’t bother with a starter–for ten or otherwise.

At six the meal was ready and we waited for our guests. Tom was back from uni, Stella had scrubbed Puddin’ until she shone, my lot were washed and dressed in suitably clean clothes, even I had changed so I no longer resembled a refugee from Oxfam. I was wearing a skirt for a change and Stella, who was in trousers, kept calling me a tranny–until Julie had a word with her and she blushed and apologised. One day she’ll grow up and I’ll wake up and find the past three years has been a dream.

At half past six, I aborted politeness and we served dinner. I dished up two portions and kept them in the cooler oven of the Aga. I was surprised at Paul’s lack of communication, he had a mobile, I’d called it from Maria’s.

We all ate and I saved some strawberries and cream for them to follow the two meals which were beginning to dry up a little despite me covering them. I rang the hospital while Julie made drinks for everyone.

“Hello, it’s Cathy Cameron–I’ve been expecting Paul Drummond to come here for dinner and drop off his daughter as she’s supposed to be staying for a few days; so he could spend more time with Maria and the baby. Nothing has gone wrong with either has it?”

“As you’re not a relative I can’t give you any info about our patients, but we haven’t seen Mr Drummond all day.”

“Are you sure? He left here before lunch and took Daisy with him to collect some clothes to bring back with her so she could stay here for the next few days.”

“I’m pretty sure, hang on I’ll go and check for you.” She went off and I could hear various hospital noises in the background–I could almost smell the tangy antiseptic odour which also tends to linger especially in older hospitals. “No, he hasn’t been in since he left this morning.”

“If he does come in, could you ask him to call me, he should have my number.”

“I’ll leave a message with Mrs Drummond for him to call you.”

“Thank you.” I rang off wondering about the wisdom of telling her anything, she’ll probably worry herself sick now.

I’d put the girls to bed and was gazing at the empty bed in their room when Tom came up the stairs, “Cathy, I think ye’d better come doonstairs.”

He had a very grave look on his face and my tummy flipped over as I followed him down the stairs. In the hallway stood PC Andy Bond and he didn’t exactly look happy with life.

“Andy,” I said acknowledging his presence.

“Lady Cameron,” he replied in a very formal manner.

“To what do we owe this honour?” I joked trying to lift the gravity of the situation.

“It’s no honour–we found your address amongst the wreckage of a car.”

My whole body shook and Tom put his arm round me.

“What happened?”

“We’re making enquiries at the moment, hence my visit here.”

“Was it a small red one, the car I mean?”

“It was a Peugeot 105 and it was red.”

“What time was this–the accident I mean?”

“About eleven thirty. There were no survivors.”

The room spun round and round and I felt myself fall backwards. Tom caught me, or at least slowed down my descent and Andy grabbed me before I hit the deck. I found myself sitting on the hall carpet, propped against the wall with my head bent over a bucket and Stella rubbing my cheek.

“C’mon, Cathy, you’ve had a bit of a shock.” My response–to throw-up my dinner into the bucket.

My head was pounding as I tried to integrate the new information into the data base stored between my ears. I think they were trying to tell me that Daisy and Paul were involved in an accident and neither survived it.

“She was six years old,” I said and the tears started, “and he’d just got a new baby.”

“I’m sorry, Lady Catherine, but that’s how it looks. We’ve obviously been to the registered address but there’s no one there.”

“No there wouldn’t be, his wife’s in hospital, she’s just had a baby.”

“In Portsmouth?”

“Yes.”

“We’ll need to inform her.”

“She’s been very ill herself, this could cause a relapse.”

“I’m sorry, but it’s my duty to inform the next of kin.”

“Even when it might add to the body count?”

“We tell the hospital, it’s up to them what happens after that.”

“Are you sure it was Paul and Daisy?”

“The bodies of a man and child were found in the red Peugeot, and an elderly couple died in the other vehicle.”

“What happened?”

“A head-on collision. No survivors. We’re still trying to put together the events leading up to the accident. I’ll need to inform any other family.”

“I got the impression that there weren’t any other family, but I’m not sure.”

“We’ll check with the hospital.”

“Ask them if they want me to come in to be with her.”

“Is she a close friend?”

“Not until very recently, but if there’s no one else I’m available.”

“Thanks–are you going to be alright, Cathy?” His concern meant he forgot his formality for a moment.

“I’ll be okay, I hope Maria and baby Catherine will be.”

Andy Bond left and I sat and howled, by myself in the kitchen. Life was such a bitch and all that stuff about the universe and positive energies was total fucking crap. How could there be anything positive about this shit hole we call earth when little girls die in such horrid circumstances. Where’s the justice in that? Where’s this bloody god they all believe in? Some fucking good he did.

I sat and cried and fumed and ranted at the dishwasher–well, it was as useful as anything else to shout at. Finally, I sat and cried and was actually dozing I think when Stella came in.

“The hospital’s phoned...” she said.