Easy As Falling Off A Bike pt 1314.

The Daily Dormouse.
(aka Bike)
Part 1314
by Angharad

Copyright © 2011 Angharad
All Rights Reserved.
  
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1314 Battle of Bannockburn (one for the Scots in the readership, of which I'm a half member).

~~~~~

“I’m going to confiscate her bike,” I said and Simon nodded.

“Didn’t you ever ride off on your own?”

“Of course, but I don’t remember doing it at age seven.”

“I’ll bet you did–you’re every bit as wilful as your daughter–and she did prove her point, that she could get away if she needed to.”

“The whole point was she should have asked before she went off on her own.”

“So make it a condition of her riding her bike.”

“What about punishment?”

“What about it? I thought the aim of punishment was to change behaviour?”

“That’s deep for you, Si.”

“Just because I’m not actually counting money every minute of the day doesn’t mean I’m in hibernation mode like one your dormice. Believe it or not, we bankers are sentient beings–it’s only consciences we lack. I can be philosophical, what I can’t be is guilty.”

“So Catholic bankers must have a real problem then?”

“Why?”

“Never mind, Si, you’re obviously not as philosophical as you thought.”

“Oh the guilt stuff–Cathy, you accuse me of being stereotypical, take the mote out of your own eye.”

“Oh my goodness, biblical quotations too, you have hidden depths, Lord Cameron.”

“Probably, but I’d rather explore yours, so how about taking all your clothes off...”

“Just when I thought–you prove to be as shallow as ever.”

“What d’you mean?”

“I thought you had some depth–but it appears it’s only in shallowness.”

“Cathy, you take everything too seriously.”

“Or could it be that you take everything too flippantly?”

“Yeah it could be, but at least I’m prepared to admit it.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh forget it, I’m going downstairs.” He stalked out of the bedroom and leaving the door open I heard him continue down the stairs.

From the distance I could hear a funny mewing sound and when I approached it realised it came from the girl’s bedroom. I stood outside and listened–yes, it was definitely from inside. I turned the handle of the door and went inside.

Lying on the bed, still in her jeans and top and her trainers lay Trish, face in the pillow making various snivelling, sobbing and crying noises. She was unaware I was there. I watched her for a moment, she was still unaware of my presence.

“What are we going to do with you, Patricia Watts?”

She started, then turning round sobbed, “I’m sorry, Mummy.”

“I should think so. You were very silly and apart from worrying me to death, you caused me to fall off my bike in trying to follow you.”

“I’m sorry.”

“So how should I punish you?” I threw the ball into her court just to see how she’d deal with it.

“I don’t know, Mummy.”

“Okay, we’ll discuss that in a minute; first, I want to set some rules–you don’t ride the bike outside the drive without asking Daddy, Gramps, Jenny or myself.”

“What about Auntie Stella?”

“Her as well when she’s home again. If we say you can’t–you have to accept that and not sneak off by yourself. Because if you do–I shall confiscate the bike for a long time, or may even sell it.”

“You can’t, Mummy, that’s my bike.”

“I can and will if the mood takes me, so don’t push your luck, missy. If you want to go for a ride, I’d prefer there were two or three of you together and better still, an adult. If I don’t have anything stopping me, I may well come with you–but not if you pull another stunt like this morning–that was so silly, that path could have led anywhere.”

“I knew where it went, Gramps an’ me have walked Kiki there loads of times.”

“Did you get caught in the thunderstorm?”

“No, Mummy, I was home by then.”

“Right for punishment, I’m going to take your bike and your computer off you for the rest of the weekend.”

“But, Mummy...”

“No buts, if you like I could take them for longer?”

“No, Mummy–I’m sorry.”

“Good because if I catch you breaking your curfew–you will really be in trouble and I’ll withhold your bike and computer indefinitely. D’you understand?”

“Yes, Mummy.”

“D’you have any homework to do?”

“Yes, Mummy.”

“Does it need the computer?”

“Yes, Mummy.”

“What is it?”

“History, Mummy.”

“Right, go and do that right away. As soon as you’ve finished, unplug your computer and put it in my bedroom, and it’s to stay there until you come home from school on Monday. Got it?”

“Yes, Mummy.”

“Trish?”

“Yes, Mummy?”

“Have you had any breakfast?”

“No, Mummy.”

“Go and make yourself some cereal and eat it, then do your homework.”

“Thank you, Mummy.”

“Go and do it.” She jumped off the bed and ran downstairs.

I suddenly realised that I had to take her to see Sam on Monday, and I had still to call Stephanie about Billie–I’d forgotten during the party and then the aftermath of this morning’s trauma.

I picked up my Blackberry in the bedroom and rang Stephanie, shutting the bedroom door. To my astonishment she picked it up. I told her of this morning’s shenanigans and she laughed.

“You knew she was wilful, Cathy, you shouldn’t have provoked her.”

“I didn’t, I was just trying to point out the risks she was running.”

“She saw it as a challenge and demonstrated what she might do if danger was to occur.”

“Yes, but someone on a mountain bike might ride her down, and in the woodland, especially when it’s in full leaf, no one would see anything.”

“I appreciate your concern, but I think you need to work with her, not challenge her on these issues–it just seems to fire her up.”

I told her what I’d decided on as ground rules, which she okayed, just as well because I wasn’t going to change them.
Then the question I was dreading asking.

“One last thing, Steph–um–could Trish have Asperger’s?”

“Why d’you ask?”

“I just wondered because she sometimes seems on a different planet and doesn’t always interact emotionally with everyone else.”

“Do you?”

“Do I what?”

“Interact emotionally with everyone else?”

“I don’t know, some of the time and with some of the people.”

“Do you have Asperger’s syndrome?”

“Not as far as I know.”

“Neither does Trish, as far as I know, but I’ll keep it in mind the next time I see her, which is next week–least according to my diary it is–next Saturday.”

“When are you due to see Billie?”

“Same time–why? She hasn’t got Asperger’s too?”

“No,” I winced at her rebuff, “I’m a little worried about her because I think she’s thinking she’s less of a girl than Trish and Julie, and of course, Livvie and Meems and the two babies.”

“Technically, I suppose she is, but you’re worried are you?”

“Yes, she doesn’t have the strength of ego of Trish or even Julie.”

“And you think she’s depressed?”

“Yes.”

“What’s for dinner tomorrow?”

“I have a whole salmon to cook.”

“With watercress sauce?”

“That could be arranged–why, do you fancy your share?”

“Well, if I’ve got to do weekend domiciliary visits, it had better be worth my while, hadn’t it?”

“Yes, I can see that–so do I lay an extra place?”

“Okay you’ve convinced me. What time?”

“Eat at one, d’you want to see Billie before or after?”

“Before, see you about noon tomorrow.”

“Thanks, Steph.”

“That salmon had better be worth it.”

“Oh it will, Dr Cauldwell, it will.”

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