The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike) Part 1192 by Angharad Copyright © 2010 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

I found out which hospital was catering to Jim’s needs–Charing Cross–where they have the gender clinic, though I doubt he would need those services. I sent flowers and fruit, although I doubt he’d be eating very much for a while–I then had a very schoolgirl moment, imagining food falling out the hole in his abdomen and him wondering why he was losing weight.

It was a couple of days later before I was able to visit him. He was lying in bed reading the Guardian. “Six across, is ‘Pygmy Hippo.’

“I thought it was Pygmy shrew, no wonder it wouldn’t fit. What are you doing here?”

“It’s taken me two hours of trudging through snow and ice to get here, if that’s your attitude I’ll do the reverse journey.” I set to walk out of the door.

“Okay, you can stay, but I had to tell ‘em real men don’t do flowers.”

“Rejection number two, perhaps I’d better go home and pick my nose or darn the cat’s bum.” I rose again.

“I told you you could stay, isn’t that enough, do I have to be hospitable as well?”

“Mr Beck, when I got home the other day, I found some ten thousand pounds in my bag. Who put it there?”

“I thought it had been nicked–some bastard took my car–can you believe it?”

“As you were in possession of the money, how did it get into my bag?”

“You stole it?” he paused; “Um–it was apported. I give up how did it get into your bag?”

“Because you put it there, you dopey twit, but I did steal your car–it was a bit far to walk back to Portsmouth especially after that sort of send off and my trousers and shoes covered in your blood.”

“Yeah, someone said about my blood–yet I wasn’t anaemic and they can’t make out where I bled. They said it looked like I’d been wearing a bullet proof vest because I had three deep bruises.”

“Three bruises eh? I had more than that from kneeling down trying to keep you warm before the paramedics got there.”

“I can’t remember much about it–but I had this funny dream, which felt so real.”

“What dream was that then?”

“Well I felt I was floating out of my body and I could see you kneeling down by me and this stunning blue light which was passing between us, it was like a laser too bright to look at directly. I could see blood in the road all round me but I was drifting further and further away like I was an escaped helium balloon rising higher and higher into the air and you faded almost from view. Then I heard your aristocratic voice telling me to get my arse back down there or you’d kick it–or something like that, and the next thing I know I have this awful pain right through me and I’m in the back of an ambulance on my way here.”

“Must have banged your head when you went down,” I suggested.

“Those stories about the angel of Portsmouth are true aren’t they?”

“What the pub–spit and sawdust place–probably?”

“Be serious for a moment–I met the angel, didn’t I?”

“Did you, I dunno do I? It was you who claim to have met her, not I.”

“Can you convey my thanks to her–I owe her my life.”

“If I see her I will, we tend to operate in different social circles.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, however, if thanks are on the agenda, then I’d like it minuted that you definitely saved me by holding up the car and subsequently despatching it while I ran for cover.”

“Did I, I can’t remember–does that mean I can charge a bonus?”

“You weren’t that good, Clint Eastwood would have walked away from the scene, you needed a stretcher.”

“His is smaller.”

“I beg your pardon?” I said my eyes nearly falling out.

“His gun–his magnum, I mean.”

“Phew for a moment there I thought you’d destroyed the sexual fantasies of millions of women worldwide.”

“And a few gay men, his films are quite popular you know.”

“If ever I meet him, I’ll tell him that.”

“He might not appreciate it.”

“He’s pretty tough, I’m sure he’ll be able to cope.”

“Yeah, maybe. So where’s the Porsche?”

“Outside, I’ve driven about ten thousand miles in it since you gave me the keys. The kids love it for the school run and all the other mothers are envious. I shall be using it tonight to do a talk.”

“A talk?”

“Yeah, for school funds–I’m doing a talk about making documentaries about dormice. Actually, all they want to see are the out-takes, with me falling into a stream and so on.”

“The only time I ever wanted to be a dormouse was when I saw that one abseil down your cleavage–nice and warm and dark down there I expect.”

“You’re going to get gay men a bad name,” I joked.

“Yeah, it’s only you that has this affect on me, maybe it’s that bloody angel woman–she’s played with me ‘ormones, cured me of being a pouf. It’s a miracle I tell you.”

“She couldn’t get all the bullshit out though, could she?”

He smirked, “I guess not,” he said blushing.

“I have to go, let me know if you need anything.”

“I need you to visit ten times a day or as directed.”

“Jim, I have six children and a banker to look after.”

“Plus my bloody Porsche.”

“Yes, that as well.”

“You take good care of her, she’s almost as blue blooded as you.”

I laughed, “Yep, a blue blooded peasant, that’s me.”

I offered my hand and he took it and stroked it with his fingers then pulled it to his lips and kissed it. “If I was straight, I’d loved to have met you before Simon did.”

“I’m only here because of Simon.”

“He sent you–now I am broken hearted.”

“No, I didn’t mean that–I mean, if Stella, his sister hadn’t knocked me off my bike during a thunderstorm–oh, forget it, it’s a long story and I have to go. If you’d been a straight man and I’d met you before I met Simon, you’d have frightened the shit out of me. You still do, it’s part of your attractiveness.”

“That’s me, Jim Beck–the human laxative–no situation too binding. Is that what you really think?”

“I have to go, Jim. You’re a lovely man and I’m grateful for your help–but you’re not really my type–too dangerous. Bye.” I pecked him on the cheek and pulled my hand away before he could grab it and kiss me properly–because I had no idea what might have happened after that. I dashed out of his room with tears streaming down my face.

I took a cab to the station and took the train back home and while I sat pretending to read my paper, I mentally ran through a mantra of, ‘I’m happily married to Simon and we love each other.’