Easy As Falling Off A Bike pt 1144.

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The Daily Dormouse.
(aka Bike)
Part 1144
by Angharad

Copyright © 2010 Angharad
All Rights Reserved.
  
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It was three o’clock as we began to leave Salisbury on the A36, just when it began to rain. It had been a fine morning so loads of the school kids were caught without umbrellas or raincoats–not that some of them bothered, wearing just shirts or blouses. They’d have been in deepest doo-doo in my days, detention for not wearing the proper uniform.

On the outskirts of the city we passed someone holding a card saying Portsmouth, please. It was a young woman of about sixteen and she was soaking wet. I stopped the car and she came running up to it.

“I can take you to the city centre, is that any use?”

“That would be brill,” she said, her whole face lighting up.

“Hop in then.”

She got in and I introduced myself as Cathy, she said her name was Phoebe.

“So do you know Portsmouth?” I asked, making conversation, the baby having gone off to sleep as soon as the car started moving.

“I’ve been there a few times.”

“Where are you staying?” I asked aware that she only had a small grip with her.

“With my brother.”

“Where does he work, the dockyard?”

“No way, he works at the university, in the biology department.”

“Oh, I know some of them, what’s his name?”

“Neal.”

“Neal, what’s he do?”

“He’s a technician.”

“Is he, can’t say I know too many of them.”

“Apparently, he works with this woman–well she used to be a man–but he says she’s drop-dead gorgeous since she had a sex-change, so I don’t suppose she has had a sex-change, I mean, you can’t make a beautiful woman out of a man, can you? She’s been on the telly, too, she’s an expert on dormice and she’s always in trouble–she’s like a crime fighter.”

“So she’s beautiful, a crime fighter, on the telly, and had a sex change–she sounds pretty busy?”

“I’d love to meet her, I’d be able to tell in a moment if she’d been a bloke.”

“Well you’re cleverer than I am, I just accept people for who they want to be.”

“Yeah, I suppose I do too–we’ve got this boy in school, they say he wears girl’s clothes when he’s not in school. He gets bullied all the time.”

“Do you bully him?”

“No, me and a group of us girls, we sometimes let him hang out with us to keep him from being beat up. He’s alright I suppose. His name’s Steve, and we often call him Stephanie.”

“What’s he say to that?”

“He doesn’t seem to mind–he might even like it.”

“Have you asked him?”

“No.”

“It could be a good thing to do, and then if he doesn’t like it, perhaps you could stop teasing him.”

“Yeah, I might.”

“Is Neal working at the university, today?”

“I s’pose so. It’s his birthday, so my visit’s a surprise.”

“Perhaps you should let him know–what if he’s got something planned?”

“He won’t mind, nor will Glo–Gloria, they share a house, well they live together–she’s nice, although she seems to spend all her time looking after dormice.”

“For the crime fighting woman?”

“Yeah, I s’pose so.”

“Don’t you think you should call him, just in case?”

“Nah, I’ll do it from the city centre. He can get me on his way home.”

“I think you ought to call now.”

“Nah, I’ll do it later.”

“What if he’s away for his birthday?” I happened to know he was in Brussels with Gloria–she told me about it ages ago.

“He never goes away.”

“I’ve got a horrible feeling, someone told me Gloria was going away,” I dropped a hint like a brick.

“She wouldn’t go away on his birthday, she’d never do that.”

“She would if he went with her.”

“Oh crap,” she picked out her phone and discovered it had a nearly flat battery. “Oh crap and double crap–oops, sorry, um, Cathy.”

“It’s okay, here use mine, d’you know his number?”

“Oh, a Blackberry, nice.” She accepted my phone and dialled before I realised something.

“Cathy? No it’s Phoebe.” She put it on speaker.

“What are you calling from Cathy’s phone for?”

“Mine’s got a flat battery.”

“Yeah, but how do you know Cathy?”

“She’s giving me a lift to see you.”

“Where?”

“To, like, Portsmouth, stupid.”

“Who are you calling stupid? I’m not in Portsmouth, I’m in Brussels. So now who’s stupid?”

“Oh, crap, you’re not, are you? Like where am I gonna stay?”

“Let me speak to Cathy.”

“He wants to talk to you.”

“Tell him to hold on a second, I’ll pull over here.”

“Cathy, is that you?”

“Yes, Neal, hold on, I’m pulling over to a rest area.”

“You said you didn’t know him.”

“Short term memory loss, didn’t sleep too much last night–‘cos of her.” I indicated the sleeping infant.

“Aaah, isn’t she lovely?”

“Not at three in the morning.”

“Cathy, c’mon this call’s costin’ me a fortune,” Neal complained.

I took the phone. “It isn’t, Neal, I’m paying for it. Now what d’you want me to do with Phoebe?” who sat with her arms folded and pouted.

“Apart from strangling her?” he joked.

“She was trying to surprise you for your birthday.”

“She succeeded, too–stupid girl.”

“I could put her up, for the night.”

“Would you–that’d be brilliant, Cathy?”

“Yes, she can decide what she wants to do in the morning, as long as she doesn’t eat too much.”

“She does, she eats like a bloody horse.”

“I’ll see if I can find a spare nose bag.”

“Thanks, Cathy–can I speak to her again?”

“Of course, have a nice weekend, and don’t worry about her, she’ll be fine.”

I handed the phone back to Phoebe, who put it on speaker again.

“It’s me,” she said.

“You idiot for not letting me know, you behave yourself for Lady Cameron.”

“Who’s she?”

“The person whose phone you’re using.”

“Lady?”

“Yes, she’s married to a lord, he’s a nice bloke, called Simon.”

“Wow,” was all she said.

“So behave, Phoebs or I’ll tell Mum what a twit you are.”

“I’ll behave, have a nice birthday.”

Neal rang off and Phoebe handed me back the Blackberry.

“I take it you’re happy to slum it with me.”

“Ha ha, you’re Lady something or other, so where d’you live, a stately home, with a butler and loadsa servants?”

“Not quite, I live in an old farmhouse, which belongs to Professor Agnew.”

“That’s Neal’s prof–he said that woman, the beautiful one lived with his prof.”

“Oops, perhaps I’d better do some crime fighting–I know, I’ll arrest a dormouse, how about that?”

“I don’t like mice.”

“Dormice aren’t like housemice.”

“Aren’t they?”

“No, maybe I’ll show you one tomorrow.”

“If that’s your baby, you can’t have had a sex change–I’ll kill Neal when I see him.”

“Perhaps he meant someone else.”

“Yeah, mustadone, though you are quite beautiful.”

“Oh well, if I’m only quite beautiful, and your weirdo was drop-dead gorgeous, it must be someone else.”

We rejoined the motorway, and were home about twenty minutes later. As soon as I walked in I had an avalanche of children wash all over me. After dealing with that, I introduced Phoebe to the girls and to Danny as he walked through. His eyes were as big as saucers, and I think I recognised love or lust in them–she was quite a pretty girl.

I sent her up to shower and change while I shoved her clothes in the washing machine–they were quite damp. So, unfortunately, were her spare clothes, her grip wasn’t very waterproof. I loaned her some of Julie’s stuff as they were about the same size.

Jenny looked quite tired and I gave her the evening off, so she left minutes later.

“Who’s Phoebe?” Trish asked on behalf of the interrogation committee, “She’s not comin’ to live here, too, is she?”

“No, she came to see her brother, Neal, one of the university technicians, but he’s away, so she’s staying the night.”

“Oh, that’s okay then.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” Cheeky madam.

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