The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike) Part 1407 by Angharad Copyright © 2011 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

Stephanie excused herself to go to the loo as I poured some stock into a saucepan and began processing vegetables–peeling, chopping or slicing–before being dumped in the now boiling stock. I added some lentils and pasta, some chopped chicken and left it on simmer.

“Has it gone?” I asked.

“Has what gone?”

“The scar on the top of your leg.”

She blushed, “I–um–forgot to look.”

“Steph, I don’t believe you, it’s the main reason you went to the loo.”

She blushed again, “How did you know I had one in the first place?”

“I had a picture in my mind of it shrinking and disappearing–so go and check.”

“No, I can wait.”

“You can wait for what, Dr Cauldwell?” asked Jenny coming into the kitchen.

“Cathy suggested a scar I’ve had since I was sixteen has disappeared.”

“And you haven’t looked?”

“No.”

“She has, Jenny, she just won’t admit it’s gone.”

“Where was it?” asked Jenny.

“On the top of her right thigh–a piece of glass from a blown light bulb stuck in her leg, just missing the femoral artery.”

“How d’you know that?” gasped Stephanie.

“I dunno, do I? It just appears in my head, like watching a newsreel.”

“You saw it happen?”

“I dunno if it was it, but I saw something happen. A bulb exploded and a piece of hot glass ended up embedded in your leg. You had surgery, hence the scar.”

“They had to operate to find the glass. Horrible stuff, had gone quite deep.”

“It’s gone anyway, I hope you eat chicken.”

“Yes thanks, how can you be so sure it’s gone?”

“Easy–I saw it go.”

“Go on,” urged Jenny and she was practically frogmarched to the loo.

She re-emerged a few moments later. “I can’t–um–find it.”

“I hope you’re referring to the scar–because otherwise you might have problems with intimate relations.”

“Trust you to take it that way, Catherine Cameron,” Stephanie shot back.

“Is there any cure for a dirty mind?” asked Jenny.

“Yeah, brainwashing,” I offered–well it seemed to fit.

“Ever since your brain got washed, you haven’t been able to do a thing with it, have you?” Stella entered bearing her baby, behind her waddled Puddin’ who became very bashful and clung to her mother’s skirts which had the unfortunate consequence of lowering it to half mast.

“Nice knicks, Stell,” I smirked as her skirt slipped down revealing a pair of pink silky panties.

“This b awful child, I’ll murder her before the day is out.” Stella exclaimed trying to pull up her skirt one handed. I stepped in and took the baby and she managed to pull it up properly.

“Shit, shit, shit,” said Puddin’ and went off on a trundle round the house.

“Nice vocab, Stel,” said Stephanie smirking.

“You can thank her ladyship for that,” she nodded at me.

“I don’t remember saying it, so when she picked it up–God knows,” I began my defence statement.

“They’re a bit like blotting paper–except a specialised blotter–they pick up exactly the things you don’t want them to hear fastest.”

“Why’s that, Steph?” I asked checking the soup and cutting some bread.

“I don’t know if any one knows for sure, but it’s probably something to do with reaction the first time they say it. Have you tried to introduce some nicer things?”

“How?” asked Stella.

“Here she comes, watch.” Stephanie waited until Pud was a few yards away when she deliberately dropped her bag saying, “Oh golly gosh.”

Moments later, Pud picked up Sephanie’s bag dropped it, and said, “Golly gosh, silly cow,” and walked out of the room again.

Once we all stopped splitting our sides trying to suppress the laughter, Stella accused me of another faux pas, which I disingenuously tried to explain away as not guilty.

“But I’ve heard you say it,” insisted Stella and Jenny agreed.

“Out-voted, Cathy,” declared Stephanie.

“I demand a recount.”

“Oh no you don’t,” said Stella and Jenny in unison.

“Look; don’t disturb me when I’m stirring my cauldron,” I snapped back as I checked the soup.”

“What is it?” asked Stella who hadn’t seen me make it.

“Cream of eye of newt,” I replied.

“Oh I quite like that, better than wing of bat, can’t stand that one.”

“Can’t do that one–all British bats are protected–Gareth would be on to me in a second, and you’d have to stand bail or look after the kids, Stella.”

“You wouldn’t get sent down for a first offence.”

“No, but I’d have to ask for the court to take a number of previous convictions to be taken into account.”

“That was said with conviction, so the court is prepared to hear the defence in Case number 69, Cameron vs Vagina.” Stephanie said this so quickly it was obviously not new.

“Shouldn’t that be, Regina?” I queried.

“I’ve used that line half a dozen times and no one has noticed the sleight of tongue.”

“That’s our Cathy, all tongue and no action,” quipped Stella

“I thought you said she was the Queen of Fellatio?” Challenged Jenny.

“I thought that was an island in the Pacific,” I offered

“Nah–that’s Clitoris,” Stella countered.

“I thought that was a Greek Island?” I threw back at her.

“Is it related to the Islets of Langerhans?” asked Stephanie.

“No it’s more insular–or should that be insulin?” I responded. I’d done quite a bit of physiology as had Stella. We all cracked up except Jenny who looked bewildered.

“Islets of Langerhans are bits of the pancreas which secrete insulin,” Stella enlightened our wage slave.

“Ah,” said Jenny, “Isn’t that where you catch the Eurostar train?”

“No that’s St Pancras station, not pancreas,” corrected Stella.

“I prefer to fly than go through holes in the ground,” stated Stephanie.

“I wondered whose broomstick I saw outside,” Stella was now on a roll.

“Yep, I parked it next to yours,” Stephanie hit back.

“Children, please–lunch is served,” I said loudly and began ladling soup into dishes.