The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike) Part 1336 by Angharad Copyright © 2011 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

I felt very glad to get home after meeting Carol and Gordon. However, en route, Trish asked if she could go and play with Sascha again. I suggested that perhaps she might like to come to us, and Trish asked me when she could phone her to ask.

“I think it might be better to wait a day or two before you do.”

She slumped in her seat and pouted, I just ignored her. We arrived back and were greeted by the remaining offspring who told me that they’d found all the eggs with Simon’s help. Seeing as he helped me hide them, I think tends to indicate either my kids are less observant than I thought, or more devious. I decided not to think about that any further.

Jenny had popped in the roasties and they were done to perfection. I turned up the oven mixed up some Yorkshire pudding batter–I know you’re only supposed to eat it with beef–so, sue me–and popped it in the oven. By the time I’d drained all the veg and removed the meat to rest, the Yorkshire was done.

Tom did the carving as befits the patriarch, Simon opened two bottles of wine and I sighed in despair–he and Tom would probably be asleep the rest of the afternoon. That became prophetic–they did drink too much and then sneak off to snooze. To my annoyance, Jenny had also consumed more than was good for her and she zonked in a chair as well–so I was left to deal with all the children by myself.

Once we’d cleared the table and got the kitchen sorted, I suggested we all go for a walk. Trish asked if she could take her bike, then so did Livvie and Billie. Danny agreed to watch the cyclists and Julie and I with help from Meems pushed the two infants in push chairs.

Of course the cyclists rushed up and down travelling about four or five times what we did on foot, but they all seemed to be enjoying themselves. The roads were reasonably quiet, presumably people were either at garden centres or the beach. The major ones like the supermarkets have to close on Christmas and Easter day but the smaller places were all open. I bought them all an ice cream and had one myself.

As we strolled eating our ice creams and enjoying the weather, Julie remarked, “This is what it’s all about, isn’t it, Mummy?”

“I don’ know, probably because we do it so little we treat it like novelty, but walking is good for you, especially after a meal–although I don’t think we’re going fast enough to burn many calories.”

“Does that matter, I just feel so chilled out.”

“The effect of the ice cream?” I asked, playing dumb, and she looked at me questioningly before she began to laugh. I might not talk in the strange parlance that teens use but I still have a sense of humour even if it has felt sorely tested recently.

Billie came rushing through on her bike, “Mummy, come quickly–there’s been an accident.”

“What sort of accident?” I gasped walking more quickly.

“Come and see.”

“Here, you push Catherine and I’ll use your bike to go ahead.” I don’t know about exercise increasing heart rate, I reckon mine was hammering from the effects of adrenalin–by the time I actually got on the bike, I’d probably secreted about two gallons of it. Of course the bike was too small for me to ride and being a proper road bike, the saddle is adjusted with allen keys. I just stood on the pedals and fairly flew along the path not knowing what to expect.

When I got to the site of the incident, some youngster–possibly a boy racer–had hit a deer. His car was stoved in quite a lot and he was wandering round in a daze shouting at the poor deer which lay gasping its last, its head supported by Danny who was stroking it and talking gently to it. There were tears in his eyes and the girls were all sobbing.

“Can you help him, Mummy?” asked Trish.

The driver looked over at us and sneered, “I wouldn’t bother, love, he’s a gonner and look what the fucking thing did to my car.”

“Would you mind not swearing in front of my children, they’re not used to such language.”

“Oh fuck you, too then. Stupid fucking deer, shoot the fucking lot.”

“It might be more beneficial for road safety to shoot all young male drivers.”

“Oh yeah, my fault innit–that stupid fucking thing just ran out in front of me. I had no chance.”

“Not at the speed you were going–you wouldn’t. What if a child had run out in front of you–or can’t you see that?”

“Fucking children should be kept under fucking control.”

“I see your vocabulary hasn’t improved since year one, and I agree with you, I think your parents shouldn’t allow you out by yourself.”

“Aw go fuck yourself.”

“Don’t you speak to my mummy like that you loud mouthed, small brained, ignoramus.” Trish stepped into the fray.

While I was swapping insults with the youth, I was sending light to the deer–I didn’t know if it would work on such a badly injured animal, but it was still alive to everyone’s amazement.

“I’d keep this brat under control, missus, unless you want her to meet with an accident.”

I walked up to him and drew Trish away, “If you so much as look nastily at her, I’ll have you arrested before you can blink.”

“You don’t frighten me, darlin’, but I bet you shag alright.”

“You silly little boy,” I spat at him and before I could stop myself I slapped him.

“You bitch,” he went to hit me back and Trish punched him right in his pride and joy. He sank to his knees.

“You leave my mummy alone, you brute,” she said punching him in the eye.

I nearly wet myself, but managed to drag Trish away. By this time Julie had arrived and she knew him.

I told her briefly what had happened, she laughed and stood full square with me. “You dick head, Docherty, if you didn’t drive so fast Bambi would have missed you.”

“Shut the fuck up, bitch.”

“Come on, let’s see if we can help the deer.” I tried to calm everyone down. The youth was on his mobile again but at least he wasn’t reporting that he’d been decked by a seven year old little girl. Mind you, I think that punch had more than a little of Patrick know-how to it.

I knelt with the deer and with Trish and Julie, helped by Danny, Meems and Livvie we had enormous energy going into her–it was a female and likely a pregnant one, so I hoped the fawn was going to recover as well.

“What the fuck are you lot doing–where’s that fucking blue light coming from?”

The deer started to move a little and I felt the energy ramp itself up, ten minutes later, the animal actually rose up and although a bit wobbly, it was actually standing.

Livvie walked to its head and began stroking its nose while talking to it, the snorts which had been short and spasmodic seemed to slow down and become more regular. It licked her on the cheek and she giggled and kissed it on the nose which made it step back a fraction.

I had my hands on its abdomen–I could feel the calf inside moving very slightly–and I asked Trish to help there. She seemed to understand–asking if it had a baby inside. I nodded and she placed her hands on exactly the right place.

I could then move to the animal’s thorax and begin realigning the broken ribs. She wince a bit, as I pushed them back together but Livvie was now blowing on her nose and she just stood there as if in a trance–don’t forget this was a wild animal which had been hurt, so what she was letting us do to her was quite a surprise–to me at any rate, and to bigmouth, who was taking photos with his mobile phone–I hoped the energy would resolve that for us.

It did or some sort of resolution happened when he walked round his car to get another angle, seemingly snagged his leg dropped his phone and a passing car ran over it–crushing it into a thousand pieces. That started his swearing again. He banged on his car and the deer seemed to snap out of her trance and snorted.

“It’s all that stupid fucking deer’s fault,” he declared and walked towards her, he was going to kick her when she spotted it coming and lashed out with her back leg and caught him–guess where. This time he fell down and rolled in apparent agony into a patch of nettles–that didn’t help him one bit.

The deer with a final snort began to walk away and all the children clapped and cheered. By this time our new casualty had managed to get himself to a kneeling position–his bare arms and legs–he was wearing shorts and a tee shirt–were covered in an urticaria or nettle rash–unsurprisingly.

“Help me will you?” he said to me.

“Children, see if you find a dock leaf for this young man.” They didn’t look very hard and were giggling the whole time.

“Did you call for assistance?”

“Yeah, the AA is comin’ but they’re goin’ to take a couple of ‘ours–bloody holiday weekends.”

There was blood in the crutch of his shorts which I don’t think he’d seen and I didn’t think he was having a period. Deer have cloven hoofs and they can be quite sharp–ask anyone who has a manicured lawn and lives in the country will know–the deer leave footprints called slots because that’s what they look like, two slots and it can destroy a lawn if the ground is soft. If his nuts were soft, he could have slots too.

“God this fuckin’ hurts,” he said holding his groin, then he saw the blood screamed and passed out. That was when I called the ambulance.