The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike) Part 1438 by Angharad Copyright © 2011 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

Simon was pretty wound up with the destruction of the branch of his bank. He’d thought they tried harder than most to play fair with their customers and this was the reward they got.

“I doubt it was customers who burned it down,” I said when we were in bed. He was lying on his back and I was cuddled into him stroking his chest to relax him.

“Yeah–just those scum bags who looted the shops.”

“I think it might be a mistake to generalise–each one of them might have a different reason for doing it.”

“Yeah, well that’d just give me a different excuse for terminating each of the bastards.”

“Then you’d be as bad as they were–look on the bright side–no one was hurt.”

“Yeah, I suppose you’re right–Mary bloody Poppins.”

“I know something Mary Poppins never did.”

“Yeah, like what?”

“Like this,” I gave him a quick squeeze in the pyjama pants and bit his nipple before rolling over onto my opposite side.

“You bitch,” he squeaked before pinching me on the bum, which caused me to squeal. Our wrestling match ended in something equally tiring but much more enjoyable and I ended up falling asleep very quickly.

The next morning I realised I’d have to change the bed and getting out saw that I already had a bruise on my buttock. Simon spotting my little marker from the previous night offered to kiss it better but instead bit the other cheek–he told me it was Christian to turn the other cheek–before he locked himself in the bathroom, for safety.

It was during my wait to get into the shower that I heard of the tragedy in Birmingham, where three young men had been killed by a driver–possibly deliberately. The news bulletin gave eyewitness accounts and it sounded very like murder–the three victims being part of a group of local residents who were trying to protect local homes and businesses against looters.

When Simon came out of the shower instead of me slapping him for his attack on me, I told him to listen to the radio. “Oh bugger,” was all he said. I left him listening to it while I showered and then fed Catherine before dressing and getting the others up for breakfast.

I offered to go with Simon to see the bank and Jenny and Stella agreed to watch the others with a bit of help from Tom–they were going to help him in the garden–eat all his strawberries, I expect.

So at eight, we set off for Town, Simon with his small brief case and me with my backpack bag and camera. I thought photographs might be useful for the bank to use on its website–before and after–assuming they had some before photos.

We went by train and thence a cab which couldn’t get beyond the end of the road–it was a crime scene after all. However, the police let us enter when Simon told them who he was and I pretended I was part of the damage assessment team–which in some ways I suppose I was.

He was angry and grew angrier as he looked at the fire damage–“They stripped it bare, what did they have to burn the fuckin’ place down for?”

“I don’t know, darling, but it seems that’s what they do.”

“Where were the bloody police?”

“I think that van outside was a police one, so it looks as if they were outnumbered.”

“Well they should have known better–what do I pay all these stupid taxes for if they can’t protect my property and staff.”

“Don’t get upset, it won’t fix anything and just makes me feel sad.” I sniffed.

“Okay, I’m sorry,” he put his arm round me, “I’m just angry, I suppose.”

“I understand, darling, but what’s done is done.” His phone rang and he walked off to talk to one of his staff so I busied myself taking photos. The safe had been removed, so I hoped that was by the police or the bank not the looters–if so, just look for some with nasty hernias or a truck with a remote arm.

“They think the money’s safe,” he put his arm round me again.

“Only think?”

“Yeah, they can’t get the safe open–the lock seems to have been damaged in the fire.”

“So if someone had taken it, they may not have been able to open it either.”

We both laughed at the vision of frustrated bank robbers trying unsuccessfully to open the safe.

“What about oxy-acetylene?” I suggested.

“Could set fire to the money inside or any other documents–house deeds and so on we store for safe keeping.”

“How big is the safe then?”

“Quite big.”

“So how did they move it?”

“With a crane and lorry.”

“And how big is this branch?”

“Small to medium–we have bigger ones in the city and in places like Manchester and even Bristol.”

“Yeah, we need somewhere there to keep our seashells and coconuts.”

“You are crazy, missus.”

“Yeah, comes from living with you.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Granted.”

“You what?” he stood facing me.

“I thought you’d farted, that’s when you usually say it.”

“Say it?”

“Yeah, pardon.”

He shook his head, “C’mon let’s go before I have an uxorial induced breakdown.”

“Doesn’t the tube go out there?” I teased.

“Probably. Oh shit, too late.”

“Lord Cameron, Lady Cameron,” a thirty something man in a striped open necked shirt and corduroy trousers approached us.

“Jonathon,” acknowledged Simon to the stranger–I’d never seen him before.

“Sorry, Cathy, this is Jonathon Elwood our union shop-steward.” I smiled and nodded, though like Simon I felt anything but happy to see him.

“I hope we’re going to be able to offer temporary jobs in other branches to our staff here?”

“Look, Jon, I’ve left that to the management team to look at–I simply came to see how bad the damage was.” Simon was on the defensive and trying to charm hs way out of things.

“Of course, I’m aware how compassionate a company we are.”

“We had to make those cuts, Jon, and you know it.”

“We still lost two hundred of my members.”

“If we hadn’t done it, you could have lost a whole lot more–I managed to keep all our branches open, most of the other high street banks have closed some, Lloyds are closing hundreds of branches.”

“Moving the investment HQ to Portsmouth cost a hundred jobs.”

“It saved three million in operating costs and thus two hundred jobs. I can move it back if you like and sack another hundred to pay for it.”

“No thanks, Lord Cameron.”

“We’re just going, good bye.” Simon turned me away from his union rep and we walked away while he was still tongue tied.

Out of earshot, I spoke, “You sweated blood over those jobs, if he thinks you enjoyed it, he must be some sort of moron.”

“He’s just doing his job, babes, and I’m trying to do mine.”

“And I love you for it.” I stopped him, stepped in front of him and kissed him.

“Wow, that’s the best bonus I’ve had yet–I wonder if I could get the others to take theirs in kisses?”