The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike) Part 1138 by Angharad Copyright © 2010 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

“You’re late,” observed Stella.

“I am well aware of that, some bastard slashed my tyres in the hospital car park.”

“Oh, what for?”

“If I knew that, I could send them the bill for the new ones.”

“You do seem to have an ability to make enemies, Cathy.”

“What? I spend all my time being nice to everyone, trying to keep the peace between the kids and this happens.”

“I don’t think the kids had anything to do with it, did they?”

“Of course not, but I try to help people, stand up for what I believe in and some arsehole with a penknife cost me two hundred and fifty flipping quid.”

“They did all four?”

“Yes, I had to call out a garage to replace them, luckily they had four suitable tyres available.”

“Did you call the police?”

“Yes, I thought it needed to be logged, but they sent someone out to see it anyway. He took some photos of it.”

“So who d’ya think did it?”

“Well, that Martina woman, Toby’s ex, has a screw loose and threatened my kids.”

“Not the cleverest thing to do to you; but would a woman be able to slash tyres?”

“I don’t see why not, don’t you think so?”

“I don’t think I could, could you?”

“I’ve no idea, why d’ya wanna go out and see if we can on your car?”

“Really, Cathy, that isn’t funny.”

“I was joking?” I teased.

“God, I hope so–but then, you are a registered psycho.”

“No, I’m a licensed one.”

“I thought that was the same.”

“Yeah whatever.”

“Mummy, when we ‘avin’ tea?” asked Mima.

“I’ll get it underway.” I retreated to the kitchen and started banging pots and pans about, and half an hour later, I was nearly ready to serve a chicken risotto. Tom of course grumbled that chicken and rice should be served only as curry, which prompted some discussion, but as the kids seemed to enjoy both, they managed to dissipate any strong feelings.

Sometimes I feel taken for granted and after the attack upon my car my skin felt rather thin and I was quite close to leaving the table and stamping up to my room. Trish seemed to recognise things weren’t entirely happy and started talking about how nice both were and that we hadn’t had risotto for ages.

I think I was very sensitive, but also surprised that I didn’t feel Tom was joking like he usually does, so maybe he’s had a hard time too. I didn’t enquire and he didn’t tell, but I noticed him staggering up to his bed after a couple of hours swigging a single malt in his study. I haven’t seen him like that for ages so something must be getting to him, I hope it’s not me.

By the time the kids were all in bed and I’d done the tucking in and story telling bit, I was ready for my own bed, and I was asleep within ten minutes of crawling into it. Of course, Simon had to phone about ten minutes after that and was a little put out that I didn’t want to talk. I had sent him a photo of the tyres, so he wanted to discuss it. I promised to call him tomorrow and rang off–then spent an hour watching the clock. It wasn’t his fault, he didn’t know I’d gone to bed–he’d been in a meeting most of the evening, trying to predict what this loony government is going to do next and whether the pound was going to take a bashing against other currencies. If the exchange rate goes down against the pound the bank loses money, unlike manufacturers who export things more cheaply–however, no one seems to take on board that exports might be cheaper and thus more competitive but imported raw materials are dearer. Still what do I know, I’m only a stupid housewife whose food bills are increasing weekly.

I woke early, obviously worrying about who had attacked my car and worrying if they might do so again or possibly the children next time. That frightened me more than anything else. I called Simon, who always seems to be up early unless he’s been drinking.

“I’m sorry I was short with you last night, but you had woken me up.”

“Sorry, Babes, that was the first time I could get back to you. You got the tyres sorted?”

“Yeah, cost me two hundred and fifty though.”

“Yeah, but as long as you’re okay, what’s it matter?”

“It matters because it was an unprovoked attack upon my property, and I’m not sure why.”

“I thought you said it was this madwoman, Martini or whatever.”

“I still think she could be responsible, but I’m not as convinced as before.”

“Why not?”

“Because it takes quite a lot of strength to slash a tyre.”

“Does it? I wouldn’t have thought so with a carpet knife, it’s not like you’re cutting through the tread where most of the steel is.”

“They were quite heavily slashed.”

“She could have got her boyfriend to do it for her.”

“Simon, you aren’t helping me to feel any better.”

“Sorry, Babes.”

“Tom was a bit funny last night, he got stewed before he went to bed.”

“They’re probably cutting his budgets.”

“Oh hell, I hadn’t even thought of that.”

“It’s all you hear on the news, so I wouldn’t have expected you to think of it, Babes.”

“Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit,” I snapped, quoting my mother.

“Yeah, but wit is the highest form of humour,” he threw straight back at me. Why hadn’t I thought of that when my mother scorned me.

I ended the call and went and showered, then got the girls up–their hair wasn’t too bad so I just combed it rather than washed it. Then after waking Danny and Julie, we went downstairs for breakfast. Tom was just finishing as we arrived in the kitchen.

“Is everything alright, Daddy?” I asked of him.

He stopped looked at me and said, “Aye, it’s chust fine.”

“I thought I might have upset you yesterday.”

“Och weel, if ye're gang tae serve foreign food, I prefer curry, ye ken.”

“Yes, I ken very well.”

“Och, weel that’s a’richt then.” He pecked me on the cheek and picking up his brief case and jacket, left by the back door to go to the university. I continued pouring cereals and making toast. About ten minutes later, he came back in.

“Have you forgotten something, Daddy?”

“Nay, I havnae, ye’ll need tae use the Mondeo the morn, they’ve done yer tyres again.”