The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike) Part 1184 by Angharad Copyright © 2010 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

Breakfast over, Simon agreed to stay with Julie whilst I went home, showered and had a snooze, probably after feeding tiny wee. I stumbled out to my car, actually Daddy’s car, mine was being mended and I’d be pleased to get it back soon, although the Mondeo was better for taking more children. Being an estate car, we could fit two child seats in the boot area if we wanted. I wasn’t too keen on the idea, being a bit close to the back of the car if someone should run into us, but it did mean we could get most of the kids in the car. I did wonder about getting a people carrier but much of the time I wouldn’t need anything that big.

I drove home, yawning much of the way. If I hadn’t been so tired I’d have noticed the car following me–an unmarked police car. I wasn’t speeding or as far as I knew committing any offence but the next thing I knew, it was right behind me with all bells and whistles going plus the hidden blue lights in the radiator grill.

I decided that being tired and the weather cold, they could come to me. I pulled over and sat in the car. A uniformed copper approached my door, which I’d locked–I’m suspicious of everyone these days.

I opened the window enough to speak with him. “Excuse me, madam, is this your car? he asked.

“No, it’s my father’s, why?”

“Would you step outside, please?”

“Why?”

“Because I asked you to.”

“And if I decline your very generous offer?”

“I shall order you to step out of your vehicle.”

“It smells cold out there.”

“Sorry, but would you step out of the car? It won’t take long.”

“What won’t take long?”

“Issuing you with a ticket.”

“I don’t buy tickets from strange men, my mother told me not to.”

“Very funny–please get out of the car.”

“Can I see your warrant card?”

“What for, I’m in uniform.”

“Yeah but you can hire those from the fancy dress shop.”

He reached into his tunic and I saw the metal glint just in time and put my foot down screaming away from him and towards home. He obviously thought it was too public a place to shoot at me as I escaped, instead I saw him dash back to his car and the big BMW came flying after me.

I jumped a red light and narrowly missed a large truck coming up to the junction. I careered round a corner and skidded into a car park, where I ducked down below the windscreen. The fake police car went straight past. I waited half a minute and went out of the car park.

I looked in my mirror and they were just behind me–shit and double shit! I should have waited longer. They set their sirens wailing and lights flashing again. Everything but me stopped, I raced through the junction again and kept my foot down as I headed this time for the police headquarters. It was the easiest way to see if they were fake, I was pretty sure they were. I mean you can hire these cars if you pretend you’re making a film.

I managed to park the car and scramble into the building before my pursuers opted to drive on past. I knew then my suspicions were correct.

“Can I help you, madam?” asked the copper on the desk.

“Yes, I’ve just been chased by a fake police car, this is the number. The passenger has a handgun of some sort.”

“I see and where did this happen and when?”

He eventually took me seriously and a senior officer came down to speak with me, fortunately, it was the women CID inspector from the other day. “Lady Cameron, to what do I owe this pleasure?”

I told her, filling her in on the business in the hospital, the shooting of Julie and so on. She looked at me and shook her head. “You are certainly dangerous to be near, aren’t you?”

“Certainly not, it’s just some of us good sorts seem to attract bad sorts who seem intent on killing us.”

“Indeed, is Julie safe without you there?”

“My husband is with her, he’s hoping she might be let home after the consultant has seen her.”

“What twenty four hours after she’s been shot in the chest?”

“We tend to heal very quickly.”

“You must do,” she shook her head in disbelief.

“Can I go home now?”

“I wasn’t stopping you, but hopefully the pretend plod have gone, but I’ll ask a real car to accompany you home just in case.”

“I hope they’re armed, the bloke who stopped me looked as if he had a gun.”

“I’ll make a note of that, but I suspect that they won’t come anywhere near a real squad car.”

I quickly called Simon and told him to get a taxi home if he brought Julie, and explained what had happened to me.

“I can’t leave the Jag in the car park, some bugger might steal it.”

“Okay, if you’d prefer bullet holes in it.”

“You’re serious, aren’t you?”

“Totally. They’re not after autographs, you know.”

“I’d gathered that much. You be careful going home.”

“I shall, let me know when you’re on your way?”

“Okay.” He rang off and I walked back to my car, a lemon curd sandwich followed me home and tooted his siren when I turned off into my drive, I waved them a thank you. For once I was more than happy to see the police while driving, usually they’re the last people I want.

I fed the baby and made a fuss of the kids–we’d decided–okay, Simon had decided it was too dangerous for them to go to school so he emailed the various educational establishments and had them email some work for them to do. Trish was the only one to have finished–I think hers was to design a newer, safer and more economical nuclear reactor and cost it–took her all of ten minutes. Actually, she was doing long division without a calculator, Livvie was struggling with the same sort of exercise but she was getting there. Meems was practicing her writing–no she wasn’t writing a novel–just a feature for the Times. Danny was reading a history text book and complaining it was keeping him awake and Billie was doing some geography with the help of her computer.

They were all pleased to see me, if only as an excuse to stop their homework for a few minutes. I told them they’d be off school for another day or two the way things were going. I spoke to the headteachers at both Danny and the girl’s schools, without being too informative–they were both suitably horrified.

Simon actually came home with a police escort. He’d called the station and they’d agreed to follow him home. Julie walked carefully from his car while he walked behind her, continually turning round in case someone followed them. This was becoming unbearable–especially as we didn’t know what it was all about.

The kids were delighted to see Julie and made a huge fuss of her. Once she’d calmed down I took her to the kitchen and we chatted, she couldn’t remember much about anything. She did recall some big bloke working at the college, but not his name. He was dead now, so it didn’t seem to matter so much anymore. It was his employer I wanted to discover and why they wanted several of us dead.

What did she have, or what did they think she’d seen or heard? What else could it be? If they’d only have asked us nicely, I’d have been happy to discuss things with them–well perhaps not happy exactly, but I’d have been polite if it had prevented this wild west nonsense–it’s like something out of a very bad spy story, with assassins popping up left right and centre.

I called Tom and explained, he said he’d be careful driving home–I told him to come early and to do so in day light on built up roads. He pointed out that we lived on the edge of the country and therefore built up roads weren’t always possible. I told him to stop arguing and get home safely. He laughed.

“Oh, Mummy, some policeman handed in Julie’s bag–I think she lost it the night she went missing.” Trish handed me the black leather bag.

I was going to give it to Julie who was upstairs when I wondered if it was her bag and could it have been handed in by the fake police? In which case was it a bug or a bomb? I walked towards the back garden as quickly as I could.