The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike) Part 1433 by Angharad Copyright © 2011 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

I wasn’t sure what Simon could do to help–but I was sure he’d listen–how wrong can you get?

“I need to discuss this with you, Si.”

“I’m sorry, Cathy, I’ve had twelve hours of banking money problems.”

“But I said I’d try and help them,” I protested.

“You shouldn’t interfere in things that don’t concern you, should you?”

“But it does, your bank is wrong and causing all sorts of problems for these two old people.”

“It’s not my bank, Cathy, it’s our bank–and I’m sure there’s an explanation. Tell them to go and see their local branch manager, I’m sure he or she will sort it out.”

“They haven’t so far–I’ve seen the correspondence and they’re looking to foreclose.”

“I’m sorry, Cathy, I don’t know how you find these lost causes but I am just too tired to talk about anything with the word bank or money in it–end of discussion.”

He did look very tired and just sat on the sofa with Meems and Trish cuddled up to him watching some inane children’s film–what happened to good stories like Little Women and the Railway Children? Now it’s all sci-fi and fantasy, CGI graphics and special effects. There’s too much violence as well–no wonder half the six year olds are psychopaths–they’ve been killing things for years on their computer games or watching other people do so on film.

After dinner, roast lamb–Si’s favourite–I tried to butter him up but he fell asleep and stayed that way all night. I left him in the recliner in the sitting room having failed to wake him enough to get him upstairs.

He woke me the next morning–another early start. “Uh–what time is it?”

“About five, why?”

“What are you doing up?”

“Another meeting.”

“What about?”

“They’re trying to get us to buy bonds from Spain and Portugal.”

“I thought they said Italy was the next big risk?”

“I’m not touching anything that madman’s had anything to do with.”

“What old botox face?”

“Sounds like the one.”

“He’s done very well out of things.”

“People like him always do.”

“So will you buy bonds from Spain and Portugal?”

“Not if I can help it.”

“Why not?”

“There’s enough bad debt about now without us picking up millions of pounds of it.”

“Oh okay–what about the Patels?”

“Who?”

“The old couple with the shop near my old bedsit.”

“What about them?”

“The bank is trying to foreclose their mortgage.”

“Sorry Babes, it happens.”

“But it’s not fair.”

“Tell ‘em to write to the ombudsman–they’re pretty good.”

“That could take months.”

“Yeah, so?”

“I want it sorted now.”

“I could say the same for this economic crisis–I didn’t cause it nor can I cure it, but I could be out of a job because of it.”

“Don’t be silly, darling–you’ll always have a job–you own the bank.”

“I might not if this gets any worse.”

“But yesterday you said we’d be okay.”

“That was yesterday, this is today.”

“Oh–so you won’t help the Patels.”

“Sorry, babes, got real things to deal with not your next favourite lame duck story.”

“You don’t mind if I do then?”

“I’ve gotta go–I overslept because someone forgot to bring me up to bed.”

“I couldn’t wake you.”

“Gotta go–see you tonight–something light will be okay.”

“I’ll get you some liquid hydrogen–that should be light enough.”

“Yeah–bye.” He went without even kissing me goodbye–he is worried, I’ve never seen him like this before–still he didn’t say I couldn’t help the Patels. I went into the shower and after dressing in suit, got the kids up and watched them have breakfast–it’s like feeding time at the zoo–in the chimpanzee enclosure, only without the PG tips.

Next I called the Patels and asked for the branch of High St Bank which they’d dealt with. I told Mr Patel, I’d call him back. A bit later I called the bank and set up a meeting with the manager–he didn’t have anything for weeks–until I said I was Lady Cameron, suddenly he was free at eleven–who said the age of chivalry was dead?

I called the Patels and told them I’d collect them at half past ten. They sounded like headless chickens on the other end of the phone–they’d have to close because they couldn’t get anyone in at that short notice. I did wonder if Trish was busy–but if she sat in for them, by the time we got back, she’d be looking to take over Walmart.

“You’re looking very posh, Mummy?” noticed Livvie.

“I have to go to a meeting–so I hope you’ll all behave yourselves.”

“Where you goin’?” asked Trish coming in on the end of the conversation.

“I’m going to a meeting at a bank.”

“Can I come–you might need some help?”

“That’s very kind of you, sweetheart, but I think I can manage–if we need reinforcements, I’ll be sure to call you.”

“If I’m not too busy by then–see ya,” she said and marched past us. Livvie rolled her eyes and we both sniggered, a little voice called, “I heard that.”

‘Here I am, brain the size of a small planet parking cars,’ the quote from the Hitchhikers Guide to the Universe came to mind and I smirked again.

“You’re laughing again, Mummy,” noticed Livvie.

“I was thinking of a very funny book which when you’re old enough, I shall loan to you read.”

“Why can’t I read it now? I can read you know.”

“I know, sweetheart, but the jokes are all grown up ones and you’ll enjoy it more when you’re a bit older.”

“Like when I’m ten?”

“A little older than that, I think.”

“What, like twelve?”

“Probably more like sixteen or seventeen or even older.”

“That’s, like, really old, Mummy–that’s like nearly as old as you.”

I can always count on my children to keep me grounded–before I kill them–grrr.

I set off at ten and collected Mr Patel–his wife was staying in the shop–she was too nervous to come with us. I shrugged, made sure we had the relative documents and drove to the bank, parking in the staff car park. If I get clamped–heads will roll.

Mr Patel followed me into the bank, I was walking quite quickly despite my heels–working myself up to asserting myself in this meeting. It was five to eleven and we waited, Mr Patel, fumbled with his papers and I did some breathing exercises–continuing to breathe, was I thought, a good idea.

Eventually, we were shown into Mr Pilbeam’s office. He shook hands with us–he was all smiles, until I painted the picture of the case I was there to represent. He made loads of excuses and it was only when I suggested if he couldn’t resolve this that I went to see my father in law, Mr Pilbeam had a sudden change of heart and within two minutes had redrafted the terms of the loan and credited Mr Patel with everything he’d paid, effectively wiping out the alleged outstanding amount and cancelling the foreclosure. He did, however, point out that he could only do this once–even for me. I smiled graciously, shook his now sweatier hand, and ushered Mr Patel out before he bowed any lower and banged his head on Pilbeam’s desk.

He was effusive in his praise for me and the nice Mr Pilbeam, and insisted on giving me the largest box of chocolates he had in the shop. Oh well, the locusts I live with will make short work of them–I don’t eat many chocs myself–too sweet and too fattening.

Mrs Patel made shrieking noises when her husband told her what had transpired and how wonderful I’d been. Well–we all know that as fact, don’t we. I’m just kinda wunnerful.

Simon apparently didn’t think so–the grapevine had obviously got as far as him and he played merry hell with me–“I told you not to interfere in things that don’t concern you.”

“The bank manager was very helpful, he rescheduled everything quite easily.”

“Cathy, you don’t listen–I asked you not to interfere.”

“No, you told me you wouldn’t–I’m someone different.”

He groaned threw his newspaper up in the air and stormed out of the room. I didn’t think now was the time to show him a questionnaire I’d been sent about married life–oops.