The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike) Part 1430 by Angharad Copyright © 2011 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

“Are you sure Fiona isn’t Gareth’s?”

“Not sure about any of it–don’t care enough to find out.”

The way Stella spoke she sounded a little depressed but I wasn’t sure. “Have you tried calling him?”

“Why should I? He’s the one who left.”

That appeared to be the facts as I knew them too, however, I felt she could be making more effort, although that could be said of Gareth, as well. Part of me wanted to fix it–but I had to let them make their own choices–it’s just so frustrating. Why is it we can solve other people’s crises but get our own so wrong? Don’t bother sending answers on a post card, I know why–wood for trees syndrome because we’re too close to the problem and, not being emotionally involved means you can make more objective decisions

Apparently most decisions we make are done through emotional mechanisms not logic–you know, you go to buy a new car–the one that is free from vehicle excise duty–very low emissions, has a safety factor off the top of the scale, does a million miles to the litre and then you see one that is dangerous, expensive, top of the range excise duty, horrendous emissions–but you fell in love with it, because it matches an outfit you have, is the same colour as your dog, has the most amazing gadget for telling you what the temperature of the deepest part of the Pacific Ocean is–so you can predict the next El Nino. Some of us would buy the original choice, some of us would be tempted. Personally, I’d want to know if it could seat ninety five children–so I might not fall for the flash motor–Simon would every time.

“I said do you want me to slice the carrots?” Stella said poking me.

“Sorry–was far away.”

“Not thinking about Gareth, I hope.”

“No, I was thinking about Si actually–why would I be thinking about Gareth?”

“Because you fancy him.”

“I don’t–I did for five minutes, but you laid claim to him–end of story as far as I’m concerned.”

She stepped back and looked at me strangely–“You’re telling the truth, aren’t you?”

“Why shouldn’t I? I have nothing to hide–he’s very good looking, and seemed to be a very nice chap–but then perhaps I got that wrong.”

“No, he’s a very nice bloke–’cept he buggered off and left me–with his kid.”

“I thought you said you weren’t sure.”

“Oh the one night stands bit–that was pure fantasy on my part–he’s little Fi’s dad alright.”

“Why make that bit up–about the one night stands?” I was confused about this but I had an idea why she did it, which turned out to be right.

“Wanted to see what you said?”

“And did I say it?”

“Yeah, but not the way I was expecting.”

“I see, so what were you expecting me to say–Go get it while you can–or, Get thee to a nunnery.”

“More the latter, I guess.”

“Oh, so it was a wind up?”

“Not entirely, I did nearly do it a couple of times–met a couple of absolutely gorgeous guys one night at that new club.”

“New club–I don’t think I know the old ones.”

“Oh yeah, sorry forgot–I’m Cathy recluse, I only live through my husband and children.”

“That’s a bit uncalled for,” I gently protested because part of it might have been true.

“Well look at you, twenty seven and past it.”

“Past what, exactly?”

“Pulling a good lookin’ bloke–that’s what.”

“I don’t need to Stella–I have the one I want.”

“Oh that’s right, rub it in.”

“It isn’t a case of that, and remember you set that up as well.”

“God, I’ve been good to you.”

“I know that, hence my dislike of not being on good terms with you.”

“In case you miss out on something you mean?”

“No, not that at all–I’m just grateful that we met–okay it could have been under more positive circumstances–my life changed for the better in leaps and bounds. You were my catalyst.”

“Yeah, I was, wasn’t I?” She beamed and carried on slicing the carrots–until she cut her finger. Stella can do things in the kitchen, she just chooses not to, which is probably just as well most of the time. I made her stand with it under the cold tap until the bleeding stopped.

“That’s bloody typical–I end up in the poo helping you again–you are dangerous to be near.”

“Took you long enough to work that out, didn’t it?”

“Yeah, I’m gullible.”

“That isn’t a word I’d use to describe you, Stella, complex, might be; game-player extraordinaire, certainly.”

“Oh I don’t know, you seem to get what you want from me–look at your wardrobe.”

“What? I haven’t asked for any clothes from you–you usually just chuck ‘em at me and say you’ve finished with this or that.”

“Do I? You must hypnotise me or something, I can’t remember any of it at all.”

“Oh come off it–has your finger stopped bleeding yet?”

“Why feeling guilty are we?”

“No, I want to wash the carrots and you’re in the way.”

“Huh, what a way to be described by my sister and best friend–I’m in the way.” She sounded like she was in a film and about to be murdered by an unfaithful husband or lover–drama queen–didn’t even start to describe her.

“Yeah, get ootta ma way,” I shoved against her with the colander.

“Hey, watch it, hen,” she said in what sounded like a variant on Glaswegian, “or I’ll stick ye.”

“Oh wull ye noo?” I replied using my Lady Macbeth accent.

“Aye, sae I wull,” she riposted.

“Aye, an’ wi’ whose airmy?”

“Och, I dinna need ony help, fa tae dae that.”

“Ye, huh, ye couldnae knock tha skin o a rice pudden.”

“I’ll stick ye, sae I wull.”

“Ye hav’nae ony glue, ye daft gowk.”

“Now you tell me,” she said in normal English.

“Mummy, why were you talking like Gramps?” asked Livvie.

“We were having a bit of fun.”

“It didn’t sound like fun to me, I thought Auntie Stella was going to stab you. I had my finger on my mobile phone ready to dial nine, nine, nine.”

“You can see she’s one of yours, girl,” Stella remarked to me.

“How can you say that, apart from the fact she’s beautiful.”

Stella glared at me, “No, you idiot, as prepared as a girl sprout, and taking things too seriously.”

“Mummy, Auntie Stella’s being horrid to me,” Livvie hugged my waist and was close to tears.

“Don’t take any notice, darling, Auntie Stella’s just teasing you.” I put my arm protectively round her.

“Yeah, I was only joking.”

“I didn’t think it was jolly well funny,” Livvie threw back at her as she stumped out of the kitchen.

“How to win friends and influence people,” I offered.

“Oh thanks, Cathy, and there’s me thinking you didn’t have a sense of humour.”

“I do, it’s just different to yours.”

“So I see.”

“Aye, it’s a sair fecht,” I said mimicking Tom.