The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike) Part 1143 by Angharad Copyright © 2010 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

We got held up at road works and nothing moved for about ten minutes, which gave me time to muse on my dream. I can’t say I remember much of it, other than my mother telling me that I had a baby and other children to look after and that they needed me to get my act in gear and pull my finger out and so on.

Dreams involving my mother seem to fall into two categories: those which seemed to show her in a negative light and those which did the exact opposite. I was happy to feel that in the past year, although the dreams had been few and far between, they’d all been positive.

I was convinced that all of them were due to my unconscious reprogramming events recorded in my brain, and that because in most regards I felt easier about myself, I could feel easier about others, including my father. It was a happy fact that I do believe my dad did come round to accepting me as his daughter and that Simon and I were an item. A few years before, he’d have flown into a homophobic rage and tried to kill me, yet when he met Simon, he seemed to like him and he gave his blessing to my being engaged. I admit I had a very strong negotiating position and his was very weak, but he honestly seemed to change when he saw how happy I was. I’m not religious as you know, but I like to believe that everyone should be allowed redemption, or the opportunity for it.

Because I thought better of Dad, I suspect the same happened for Mum, and as my feelings were more relaxed and I’d worked through some of my anger at their bigotry I found it easier to see her in a new and more positive light. That had to be it, anything else wouldn’t compute in my map of the world. However, the anomalies of her telling me I’d have loads of children and about the key under the dressing table were–just that anomalous. Where they came from I don’t know, though I’d guess they’d be wishful thinking and fragments of memory of the safe place under the floorboards in the bedroom.

The car behind beeped and I realised I was holding up the traffic, so let out the clutch and drove through the road-works–worn out carriageway, apparently.

I didn’t hurry back, so we stopped near Salisbury and met up with Siân. I sent her a text and told her I’d be bringing the youngest of my kids with me. When she opened the door and saw me with a baby, her eyes came out on stalks.

“This isn’t yours, is it?” she asked.

“Yes–I’m her foster mother, why?” I smirked.

“For a moment, I began to wonder–you were always so girly when you were younger, it wouldn’t have surprised me if you’d had some girly bits as well.”

“No, but I do need to feed her, or will in a few moments,” I could see her stirring since the car had stopped.

“Sure, d’you want me to warm the bottle?”

“No need.”

“Oh you have one of those automatic travel ones do you?”

“Yes, the original ones.”

“Which ones are those–Cow and Gate?”

“No, d’you mind if I sit down to do this?”

“No, course not, come on in.”

I carried the bag of changing things, the mat, clean nappies, liners and so forth, plus clothes and some wipes. I picked up the baby in my left arm, undid my blouse and bra and let her clamp on to me. Siân’s eyes nearly popped out for the second time.

“You’re feeding her yourself?”

“Duh? What’s it look like?”

“Crikey, what did you have to take to do that?”

“Nothing–it happened spontaneously.”

“What–? But that’s impossible.”

“No, it’s improbable, but it’s what happened.”

“Had you let her suck your breast before?”

“No–my boobs just began to leak milk and when she started to suck, they positively flowed with the stuff. I went and saw my GP who shrugged and said it was breast milk okay, and to see what happened. Here we are, months later.”

“Good God, that’s simply amazing.”

“I don’t know if any gods had a part in it, but if they did I’m extremely grateful, and this little monkey even more so.”

“I was going to suggest we went out to lunch because I thought you’d have a five year old with you, not an infant. So, I’ll knock us up a quick snack if that’s okay?”

“Fine with me, I’ll have to cook when I get home anyway.”

“So how did you get her, I mean she must have been a new born.”

“It’s a very sad story,” and while she prepared some jacket potatoes with cheese and salad, I told her the outline.

“Oh my God, so she killed herself, the baby’s mother? Oh how awful.”

I had tears in my eyes and just nodded, for a moment I was too choked to speak as I relived that horrible period when Trish and I discovered Maria Drummond.

“She took an awful risk,” said Siân, “what if you hadn’t rushed round to her house–the baby could have been very sick or even dead?”

“I hate to think, but she left me a note to ask me to look after baby Catherine, so how could I do any other?”

“Absolutely, and, girl, I hate to say it, but motherhood suits you.”

“You always did talk in clichés,” I teased her.

“I’m a GP, patients understand them.”

I sipped at the water she’d given me. “When’s lunch, I’m starving?” I declared ready to eat a horse.

“You always could stuff like a pig and yet remain thin–it would serve you right if you end up with boobs like pumpkins after all this feeding lark.”

“Jealous are we?” I threw back at her.

She pouted and said, “No of course not–yes you bitch, of course I’m jealous.”

“I’ll send Simon round if you want a...”

“Cathy, I’m not into men if you remember, so kind as it might seem, I couldn’t let Simon shag me even for a baby.”

“I was going to say, if you’d only let me finish–if you wanted a sperm donor.” She blushed like traffic light (yes the one that was changing) and then we both laughed.

“Where’s Kirsty?” I asked as I changed the baby.

“She’s on a course all day, so when you texted me, I was rather pleased, now I just feel broody–you horrible woman.”

“D’you mind if I gloat for a few moments, it’s such an unusual feeling and I’d like to enjoy it?”

“Bitch,” she snapped in mock anger, then we both dissolved in laughter just like old times.

I put tiny wee down for a sleep and Siân and I chatted for a couple of hours–Jenny was collecting the girls–with lots of laughter. “You know, when I look back to when we were in school, I can’t remember you as a boy at all. I mean we used to laugh like schoolgirls back then. No wonder some of our contemporaries wondered about you–what with your long hair and girlish body.”

“I didn’t see it as girlish, but I was lucky that I didn’t develop as male, so when I got oestrogens, it kick started a female puberty.”

“Given how you felt inside, I think you’ve been very fortunate. You know I had a youngster turn up with her mother, and knowing you made it so much easier to feel positive about being involved with the journey into womanhood. I was able to say that I had a good friend who’d done it, and because the kid was only eleven, I felt there was an opportunity for good transition–although I’d need some expert help to guide us all.”

“Did I tell you, that Billie has defected?”

“In what way?” she looked very concerned.

“Left the boy camp and joined the girls.”

“You mean, he’s living as she?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, so how d’you feel about that?”

“When it happened I was anything but happy, having Julie and Trish already, but it seems to be working out so far, she sees Stephanie.”

“Gosh–what are the chances of that happening, I mean four transgendered people in a group of six or seven? Phenomenally against, I’d think.”

“Oh well, obviously it was meant to be.” I glanced up at the clock, “Goodness, look at the time, I have to dash.”

I’d had a lovely time with Siân and we both promised to do so again. We hugged then I got in the car and headed for home, hoping to beat the rush hour traffic but knowing I was too late for that.