The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike) Part 1302 by Angharad Copyright © 2011 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

I drank the tea I’d made and Simon watched Ireland end the English hopes of a grand-slam, which tickled him no end. “There’ll be some embarrassed faces in the office on Monday,” he chuckled.

“Why?”

“I had three of them goading me all week about how England were going to do the slam. I kept telling ‘em that Ireland were going to get it together one of these days, an’ they did.”

“Is that important?”

“Yes, I’ve just taken a hundred quid off each of them.”

“I thought you’d stopped wagering on these things?”

“Nah, it’s only peanuts.”

“I don’t call three hundred pounds, peanuts, Simon. Just because you’re well off doesn’t mean you should waste it.”

“Yes, Mummy.”

“Si, I’m sorry but I feel this is something that comes between us.”

“Only because you make it an issue.”

“I don’t want the children doing it.”

“As far as I know none of them have a hundred quid have they?”

“Not as far as I know either, unless Trish has sold my car on Ebay again.”

“She hasn’t done that has she?”

“Yeah we had a disagreement about a dress she wanted. I refused to buy it for her and she asked if she could find the money, could she buy it herself. I should have said no, but I agreed. Next thing I know, I have a phone call from some bloke asking if he could see my car.”

“And it was her, was it?”

“Yes, I explained what it was all about and he said if ever she wanted a job, he’d give her one. I told him she was only six and he was astonished.”

“D’you think she could be Aspergers?”

“I doubt it, but I’ve got it down to speak to Sam Rose about it.”

“I thought you were going to see him this week.”

“He’s got flu, so they cancelled–they did offer us an appointment with another doctor, but I like Sam and he knows Trish so well.”

“I agree–besides–why talk to the monkey when you know the organ grinder?”

“I don’t know if the other doctor would have been pleased to hear you refer to him like that.”

“I don’t give a monkey’s.”

“Is that the one with the organ grinder?”

“What one?”

“The monkeys you don’t give?”

“Stella used to do this to me,” he grumbled.

“Do? I haven’t done anything.”

“Yes you have, you’ve taken something I said out of context and used it in an entirely different context.”

“Did I–diddums–does baby want his rattle too?” I asked sarcastically.

“No, baby is rattled enough as it is.” He stared at me, “Your hair is different?”

I nearly fell over. I could have had it dyed bright green and he wouldn’t normally notice, although if Julie did, he would. I don’t know if that means he acts paternally about her or he doesn’t look at me in any great detail anymore. She is turning into quite a stunner.

“Yes, Morag put some highlights in it.”

“It’s nice.” That was the end of the discussion.

We messed about for another half an hour before I went to begin getting ready. I redid my makeup, in my own way, which meant I did use some blusher and the metallic green eyeliner. My lipstick was as Morag had used, and I did darken my brows a little with a blonde coloured eyebrow pencil. For completion, my mascara was black/brown and I used it a little thicker than usual. I was happier with the outcome than I had been coming from the salon.

I carefully dressed in my new outfit and pulled on the tights and shoes. Simon adjusted his green bowtie and scrutinised me. “Okay, you looked like a model when you came from the salon.”

“And now?” I asked.

“You look like the wife of an aristocrat.”

“They sometimes marry models, you know?”

“I’ll settle for my choice every time.”

“I’m glad.”

“I’m glad you’re glad, divorce is a pain.”

“I’d probably settle for a few billion,” I smirked.

“Very funny, d’you think I’m made of money?”

“Yes–next question?”

“Aye, weel jest mind that I’m a canny Scot, the noo.”

“Och, hae ye f’gotten, sae am I?” I said back in what sounded like Morag’s voice. I had found my Lady Macbeth voice.

Simon looked astonished for a moment before saying, “Sae ye are.” He regarded me up and down. “You look positively stunning, my dear.”

“Aye, yer no sae bad yersel’.” I practiced my accent again.

“D’you mind, it’s bad enough having Tom chattering like one of the estate workers.”

“Ye scunner, dinnae talk aboot ma faither like that.”

“Cathy, why are you suddenly chattering like an escapee from a porridge advert?”

“I’m Gruoch, th’ rightful Queen o’ Scotland, wi’ ma laird, Macbeth.”

“Oh right, let me guess which play–um–Julius Caesar?”

“Very funny–put your cummerbund on, it hides your fat tummy a bit.”

He went to his case and extracted the silk item which I fastened behind him. “You don’t think this is a bit over the top do you? I mean, it’s not exactly a formal dinner.”

“Up to you.” I undid it again and he threw it back to his case.

“It gets a bit tight after a good meal.”

“Simon, we both need to get more exercise and you also need to eat less.”

“Huh! Last week you were telling me I was a fine figure of a man.”

“Last week I was randy. This week I’m...”

“Don’t tell me–um–Little Weed?”

“Simon, have you taken complete leave of your senses?”

“Randy Pandy and Little Weed.”

“Andy Pandy was with Lubi-Lou, Little Weed was with Bill and Ben.”

“Oh–how d’you know all this?”

“Because some idiot did a talk on the development of children’s television in the late Twentieth Century while I was a student at Sussex. It was free so I went. Damn, that reminds me when I asked him a question about Bagpuss, he pointed at me and said, “The young lady wearing blue,” and several people laughed.

“What’s funny about that?”

“I was supposed to be a boy at the time.”

“You were never a boy, just a girl with a plumbing problem and we’d better move it or Clint Eastwood and wosserface will be waiting for us.”

I gave myself another squirt of No5 and picked up my bag and pashmina. He held out his arm and with a quick glance at the telly to see Wales had taken the lead in France, he smiled and we set off to meet Matthew and Judy Hines.

On the way down we passed a young couple, he was wearing jeans and an open necked shirt and she was quite pregnant and wearing a pair of jeans which sagged beneath her bulge which protruded showing a fat belly button between them and her skimpy top. They were just checking into their room.

As we walked on, I stopped and gripped Simon’s arm tightly. “That was them.”

“What was?” he asked as unaware as ever.

“That young couple–that was Matthew and Judy.”

“Hold on.” He pulled out his mobile and after checking a number made a call. “Have Mr and Mrs Hines arrived yet?” He nodded. Then looking at me, “It could well be, they were held up and haven’t long arrived, they asked if we could postpone dinner for half an hour?”

“We have a choice?”

“Yes we can go down and have a drink or two, or go back to the suite and watch a bit more of the Six Nations.”