The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike) Part 1324 by Angharad Copyright © 2011 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

I drove us back to Portsmouth Simon was completely exhausted and slept for part of the journey. I’d called Tom and asked him to collect the girls, which he grumbled about but agreed to do. I did however tell him he could have a chicken curry take-away and his mood suddenly improved–his usual eatery was being refurbished which he thought was outrageous.

Simon was asleep when I parked outside the Indian takeaway and ordered a pile of curry rice and poppadoms with onion bhajjis and so on. I don’t like Indian food, so decided I’d quickly do myself a tuna jacket potato with some salad while the others were eating.

Which is what happened–Tom grumbled that the curry was too mild, even though I’d got him the hot one, or so I’d thought. The children all tucked into theirs and even Jenny had some. I was the only one who had something different, eating after the others had finished.

Simon had picked up after his meal and went out for a walk with the girls and the dog, Julie was doing something with Jenny’s hair, so it was Tom who stayed with me while I ate. He wanted to know what was going on with Simon and me–we rarely go off together during the week–so I told him we’d gone to visit Simon’s mother’s grave. As a regular visitor to his wife’s grave, he went quiet after that, which was just as well because I wouldn’t have told him any more if he’d asked.

I finished my meal and we chatted while I made and drank some tea, Daddy had a glass of beer, having bought a box of cans of McEwan’s. If it had been warmer, I might have joined him, but a cuppa perked me up and I cleared the kitchen, dumping all the foil containers from the curries in the bin–sadly, no one seems to recycle it.

Daddy went off to his study and his single malt, and I started to re-familiarise myself with the Scottish play–what had I got myself into this time?

It was after seven when Simon came back with the girls and one tired spaniel, he looked much better and I think he found the company of the children reassuring given the strains of the trip to Arundel.

In bed that night, we just cuddled, and for a change, I cuddled into his back and held him while he fell asleep. Of course, I couldn’t help thinking back over what had happened. I don’t believe in any sort of afterlife, suspecting it’s just a con perpetrated by the major religions, although I’d had several experiences I couldn’t explain with people I knew to be dead.

It didn’t exactly worry me, because I’m aware that the mind can play all sorts of tricks on us and we can believe that what was just a dream really happened.

I was in my old home in Bristol and my mother called me. I clomped down the stairs–stilettos tend to make descents a trifle risky. “You and those silly shoes–they’ll make your feet bad one day, my girl, just you wait and see.”

I kissed her on the cheek and left.

I woke feeling very strange. I’d remembered the dream in sufficient detail to realise it had never happened unless it was in a parallel universe. To start with, she only met me once as Cathy, yet that was what she’d called me. I did have some blue nail varnish but not at sixteen or seventeen, and I only ever put it on my toes not my fingers.

As for grandchildren, I would never have produced any as a woman unless something magical had happened and that wasn’t going to either. I lay there thinking about my mum, it was true, I thought about her often–especially when I was laying the law down to the children–I didn’t so much think of her as become her–frightening or what?

I went for a wee–too much tea before bed–and walking back to bed I remembered her comment about flowers on her grave. I hadn’t been to see the grave, even when I’d been in Bristol–tomorrow, I’d put that right.

I did eventually go back to sleep and slept through until the morning. I woke feeling tired, hardly surprising given my lack of sleep. Simon, however, woke looking better than he had for a few days. He smiled and hugged me, “Thanks for being there–and for being you.”

I was tempted to go into the old argument about who else could I be, but refrained, I was glad I did in the end.

“You know,” he said, “I feel so much better–I know it isn’t over yet, but the void that’s been such a hole in my life has closed somewhat. I have you to thank for that.”

“Not really, darling, I reckon you were ready to take that step, I was merely a catalyst.”

“The best looking one I’ve ever seen,” he smiled at me and rubbed his finger on my cheek. “You are one fine lookin’ woman, Ellie-Mae.”

“Who is Ellie-Mae?” I asked in mock horror.

“I dunno, do I?”

“Well why did you say it then?”

“It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

“So it was a joke?”

“Yeah, if you like.”

“So I’m not a fine lookin’ woman then?” Not that I felt very good looking–in fact I didn’t even feel pretty enough to be ugly. My eyes were probably bloodshot and had dark circles under them, my tongue would be grey and as furry as mouldy bread and my hair probably looked like I’d been pulled the length of a hedge, through its thickest parts.

Simon looked at me, “One day, little girl, you are going to believe me when I say I love you and I think you’re the most beautiful woman on this planet.”

“I go with the first part, it’s the second which may be taken as a minority opinion or view.”

“What? If you bullshit this well, how come you haven’t got your PhD yet?”

“Sorry?”

“You just said a whole pile of gobbledygook, worthy of any doctoral dissertation.”

“All I said was if you think I’m the most beautiful woman in the world, then you’re in a minority of one–but then they say that love is blind.”

“Yeah so–your point is?”

“I need a wee,” I said and rolled off the bed.

“You always do this to me, push off for a pee when the going gets tough.”

“If I didn’t go now, you might end up drowning in your own bed–my bladder is about to go pop.” I went into the bathroom not hearing whatever it was he called after me.

He pushed into the bathroom with me, “I said, don’t pull the flush–I need one, too.”

“Oh–save water...”

“...bath with a friend,” he completed the silly joke that had been around for years. “How about we shower with a friend?” he asked.

“Which friend did you have in mind?” I asked him with a deadpan face.

“Bloody-hell, come back Stella, all is forgiven.”