The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike) Part 1320 by Angharad Copyright © 2011 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

Simon enjoyed his sausages; I didn’t, they nearly choked me being swallowed by the same mouth which had lied to him. I felt ill and had to rise from the table and rush to the loo.

I had lied to him before–hell, my whole life in the beginning was a lie, sometimes I wonder if it is now, pretending to be female, pretending to be a mother, pretending to be a wife and pretending to be a daughter. I was one great big ball of deceit. Not only that but I was encouraging three young pretenders to follow my deceitful example.

I knelt down in front of the pan and vomited until my stomach was dry retching and I felt like shit. I knelt there, hands resting on the top of the porcelain of the bowl, the whole room filled with the stench of vomit, my eyes running and mouth tasting foul.

“Are you all right, Babes?”

“No,” I whimpered and began to cry.

He pushed open the door and squeezed in, “Here, let’s open a window, shall we?” He leant across me and clicked open the fanlight. He lifted me away from the toilet and put the seat and cover down, then pulled the flush. “C’mon, up to bed with you.”

“I’ll be okay in a minute,” I protested.

“I know, because you’ll be in bed.” He took my hand and gently but firmly pulled me out of the door and then led me upstairs to the bedroom. I was snivelling all the time. He sent me to go and brush my teeth and change into my pyjamas–blue and white striped ones like Andy Pandy.

When I was finished, he led me to our bed and made me get in it. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

“Never mind, Babes, it’ll keep ‘till the mornin’.”

“No it won’t, Simon; I have to tell you now.”

He sat on the bed beside me and held my hand and nodded for me to proceed.

“I wasn’t doing a woodland survey.” I sobbed, thoroughly ashamed of myself.

“I see, so what were you doing–having an affair?”

“No, I’d never do that to you–you must believe me.”

“But you lied to me, Babes.”

“I know, I couldn’t bring myself to tell you what I was doing.”

“So what were you doing?”

“You’re going to be cross with me.”

“Will I? I’d like to hear what it was that was so important that you couldn’t tell me about it.”

“I wasn’t in Chichester, I was in Arundel.”

“Well that’s hardly a crime is it?”

“I went to lay flowers on Margaret’s grave.”

“After I asked you not to poke about any further?”

“Yes,” I squeaked and sobbed, “I felt so sad for her and had to do something.”

“But you couldn’t tell me?”

I shook my head, “No, I’m sorry.”

“So what d’you think I should do?”

I shrugged, “I don’t know,” I felt tears roll down my face and drip onto my lap.

“Hmmm, I guess you had this coming, here wipe your face.” He handed me a tissue and I did so expecting him to say something awful and to decamp in high dudgeon to the hotel for a few days to punish me.

I wiped my face and for the first time since we’d come into the room, I looked him in the eye. If he was angry, he was hiding it very well.

He pulled me close to him and kissed me. “I should have done that last night, but I was too big a fool to realise it. I did a lot of thinking last night about how I’d been ashamed of my father and my mother–him for being a total dick and her for running off and leaving us. How could a mother do that to her children–but she did.”

“You can’t judge her like that, Si, you don’t know how ill she might have been.”

“You wouldn’t run off and leave your children behind, would you?”

“I don’t know, Si, we can all do crazy things if we’re in enough pain. It isn’t for me to judge others–I’ve done that in the past and been very wrong.”

“Are you sure you don’t have wings under that pyjama top?”

“What d’you mean?”

Before I could say anything else he pulled my top off me and pushed me back on the bed, “No wings, just these water wings,” he said leaning over and kissing my breasts.

“If you’re going any further, hadn’t you better lock the door?”

He got off the bed and turned the key in the door, then sat on the bed again. “It’s I who should apologise to you. I was out of order last night which was why I wanted to take you to lunch to apologise–hell–I left an orchid in the car.” He jumped up, and after undoing the door ran downstairs. I pulled my top back on and slipped into my slippers and dressing gown and went downstairs.

“What’re you doing down here?” he demanded of me handing me the most exquisite phalaenopsis in cream and mauve colours.

“I need a cuppa, Simon, and this is absolutely beautiful,” I kissed him, “thank you.”

“Back up to bed, I’ll bring you up a cuppa.”

“What about the children, it’s only half past seven?”

“Jenny will sort them, and Tom will help, so off you go–bed, young lady.”

“Can I take my flower with me?”

“If you like.”

I did like and carried my precious cargo up the stairs and placed it on the window sill. There were at least a dozen buds on it and the flowers were so beautiful it was almost painful to behold. I stood looking at it while I waited for Simon and my tea.

He arrived five or ten minutes later and I could have told him there were fourteen buds on my plant because I’d counted them a dozen times. I was really pleased with it but I felt unworthy. I’d upset him and he was apologising for being upset. It didn’t make sense in some ways.

He’d brought up a pot of tea, some cups and some milk. There were also some plain chocolate hobnobs.

“This doesn’t make sense, Si–I upset you and you’re apologising. Shouldn’t it be the other way round?”

“You’ve apologised for deceiving me, I’m apologising for being unnecessarily brusque last night.”

“But it was my fault, I pushed your buttons because I wondered if you needed to talk about it. You obviously didn’t but I didn’t take the hint. It’s I who should apologise for intruding in your grief.”

“Shall I be mother?” he asked pouring the tea.

“You have about as much chance as I do,” I quipped back.

“Now don’t you start that again, you’ve got a lovely bunch of kids and no stretch marks–be grateful for small mercies.”

I accepted the cup and smiled at him, sometimes he could be very funny. We sat and drank the tea and I scoffed two biscuits.

“All that sicking-up, that was just nerves was it?” he asked.

I nodded and felt my eyes fill with tears again.

“Why?” he asked.

“Because I lied to you, because I was doing something against your wishes.” I began to feel tears running down my face. “I lied to the person I love–love is based on honesty–I failed you.”

I felt his arm round me, “Don’t be silly, look we both misunderstood each other. You were trying to help me and I felt you were lifting the mats and looking underneath. It hurt and I got angry. Then I thought about it and realised I hadn’t let go of my anger and my grief–I was still a kid, a very angry one. You released it all and took it full in the face. I’m sorry.”

“Oh,” I said almost in astonishment.

“I needed to let it go and move on–now I feel I can, because you made me think about it.”

“I laid some flowers on her grave, told her who I was and that I’d take care of you.”

“Perhaps I need to go and do the same–you know, closure and all that stuff.”

“If you want me to come, I’d be happy to.”

“Yeah, that would be good. Now about these water wings...” he pushed me back on the bed and began pushing his hands up my pyjama top...