The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike) Part 1473 by Angharad Copyright © 2011 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

I drove home via the university and spoke to someone in the IT department, he copied the disc and promised to phone me if he could read the number. I thanked him, then on spec visited the local Jaguar garage for an estimate of the damage–the bloke suggested it would be two new doors plus some re-spraying. He suggested the cost would be up to a couple of thousand. I had no idea if that was good or bad, but I needed Si to be home before I could get the name of our insurance company. Back to Si again and my execution probably in front of the kids to make an example.

By the time I got home, I was in quite a state–even Stella noticed, so it must have been bad. “What’s wrong with you?”

“I went to Tesco and while I was shopping some old biddy rammed the car and skedaddled.”

“Deliberately?”

“I managed to get the video, looks more as if she was too senile to do it deliberately, just generally incapable.”

“Have you reported it to the cops?”

“Going to once I’ve had a cuppa.”

She put the kettle on and went to look at it. “Simon will be pleased.”

“But I didn’t do it, I have the film to prove it,” I protested and burst into tears. She hugged me. “I didn’t do anything,” I sobbed.

“So you said, he’s still gonna be cross–want me to distract him?”

“No, I need to get it over and done.”

Stella made some tea and after drinking it I phoned the police and reported the accident. As no one was injured they weren’t very interested. I did point out the woman had committed two offences, damaging my car and failing to report an accident. I also unkindly suggested she might be a danger on the road. They gave me an incident number for the insurance company once I gave my name–it seemed they became much more cooperative–can’t think why, the circumstances hadn’t changed. However, unless I could supply them with the name or number of the other driver they couldn’t do much more.

“How many ancient red Toyota’s are there in the Portsmouth area?”

“Loads, we need more information than that, we hardly have the manpower to search every street in the hope that we find one with white paint on its bumper.”

“That’s okay, I’ll have my children doing that every night until we find her, it’s okay if I arm them, isn’t it?”

“I hope you’re being facetious, Lady Cameron. Look I know it’s a total pain and you’re quite correct in that the other driver broke at least two laws but finding her isn’t a priority we have at the moment.”

I rang off, then dialled Simon. He was in a meeting and his secretary told me he’d call me back. He did an hour later.

“What’s the problem, babes, I was told you sounded a bit upset–the children are okay?”

“I hope so, no it’s about the car.”

“Which one–not the Jag–God, you haven’t crashed it already?”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Somebody ran into you?”

“Yes,” I said and burst into tears.

“You okay?”

I nodded, which was a bit pointless, then realised what I’d done, “Yes, yes I’m okay.”

“Phew, you had me worried for a moment.”

“Sorry, I couldn’t speak for a second.”

“You sure you’re okay?”

“Yes, I was in a supermarket and some old biddy bashed the side of the car and then drove off without giving her name or anything.”

“How d’you know it was an old lady?”

“Some bloke saw her and came and told me. He didn’t see her number–and I managed to persuade the supermarket to give me a copy of their CCTV.”

“Doesn’t that show it–the number?”

“No, I’ve left a copy at the university, see if their IT guy can make it out.”

“A copy, you have another?”

“Yes, why?”

“I’ll get our IT department to have a look at it.”

“Okay–you’re not mad with me?”

“Why should I be?”

“I’ve only had the car a day.”

“It happens–especially to you, at least this one wasn’t a write-off.”

“I did ask the Jaguar garage for a quote, they told me it needed two new doors.”

“Okay, get some photos of it before it gets dark, I’ll speak to a chap I know, he’s brilliant at repairing bodywork–met him through Stella.”

“He’s a friend of Stella?”

“No, he repaired Stella’s cars, about three times a year if I remember correctly. I helped him get a business loan to expand his workshop–he’ll do a better job than the Jaguar garage–they charge over the top.”

“Thank you, darling for being so understanding.”

“Hey you’re my wife aren’t you?”

“That’s what the paper says.”

“Well then, so stop snivelling and make me a nice dinner.”

“What would you like?”

“To eat or to do afterwards?”

“To eat–you have a one track mind.”

“So, I’m a normal hot-blooded male.”

“I had noticed.”

“By the tooth marks on the bed post.”

“What?”

“Teeth marks, see, I live with this incredible sexy woman but she keeps me incredibly frustrated.”

“You lying toad, you had–we had–um–last night.”

“Did we? You know my short term memory is getting worse–they say it can be a symptom of sexual frustration.”

“Ha ha very funny.”

“I thought so–gotta go, lunch meeting.”

“Don’t you eat too much if you want me to cook something nice for dinner.”

“Don’t worry, I can handle two cooked meals.”

“It’s not you handling them that worries me, it’s you eating them.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re getting too big.”

“Rubbish.”

“Si, it takes you five minutes to walk past a mirror.”

“Yeah, well if you’ve got it flaunt it–so, I’m good looking.”

“I meant your stomach takes five minutes to go past.”

“Huh, I think I might change my mind about the car.”

“Getting your little man to look at it?”

“No, being cross when I get home.”

“Fine–I’ll see you later–much later.”

“What?”

I put the phone down.

I did start a nice meal for him, a chicken casserole which I placed in the slow oven once it got up to temperature, it would have about five hours to cook.

I was doing some ironing when the doorbell went. I answered the door to a very nice looking older man–about fiftyish.

“Lady Cameron?”

“Yes,” I replied wondering who he was.

“Is that the car?” he pointed to my Jaguar.

“Yes,” I followed him to it. He made notes and took digital photos.

“Tell your husband I’ll have it in next week.”

“Tell him who? I’m sorry I don’t know who you are.”

“He didn’t tell you?” I shook my head. “Bert Darnley, I do bodywork repairs–done quite a few for your ’ubby a couple or three years ago.”

“For him or his sister?”

“’im I think, he ’ad a Saab, nice car but he was always bumping it or scratching it.”

“I believe he did have a Saab.”

“I’ll give you a ring before we come to fetch it–it’ll take about three days to do.”

“Will it need new doors?”

“Nah, we can pull those dents out–takes a while so does the painting–nice car the XFR.”

“Yes it is.”

“Be in touch,” he waved and left. I went back to my ironing and considered what I’d say to Simon. Stella came through a bit later.

“Someone at the door–earlier?”

“Yeah, Bert Darnley.”

“Who’s he when he’s at home?”

“Simon told me he used to repair your car bodywork.”

“What for, it was Si who was always scratching or bumping his, not me.”

“I had a feeling that’s what he meant.”

“Who?”

“Mr Darnley.”