The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike) Part 1477 by Angharad Copyright © 2011 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

I began to feel like this was some B-film horror movie in which I and my family were being pursued by a some sort of phantom which had homicidal tendencies, which felt totally at odds with the healing element. Then again, that lioness goddess in ancient Egypt was on one hand the goddess of destruction and healing, and Athena–a warrior goddess who was also goddess of learning. I’m sure there are loads of other dualities where divinities are credited with doing opposite things–perhaps like the surgical advances that occur in wartime because they have almost unlimited opportunities to experiment.

I was tiring of this goddess stuff, what was this special thing I was supposed to be doing and when was I supposed to do it? Did it relate to the environment? If not then I’d wasted most of my life so far. Actually that’s not true, anyone who’s ever handled a dormouse will know that they are worthy of protecting, being about the only rodent which does no significant damage to human interests.

I itched to get back to doing something with the environment again, especially if it wasn’t what I was supposed to be doing–yeah, I’m developing this bad girl persona–am I bovvered?

The next day, I was astonished to find that Mr Darnley phoned to come and collect the car. One of his men arrived, took the keys and off it went. When I asked why they’d brought it forward, the man just shrugged and said he’d been told to come and collect it.

Trish hadn’t been able to distinguish two of the digits on the film of the red Toyota, however, when I went to get some diesel for the Mondeo on the Monday after taking them to school, I was pretty sure I saw it filling up with petrol–or at least I was fairly sure I recognised the driver.

I took the number, and then approached the driver. “Excuse me,” I said to the woman as she went back to her car.

“Yes?”

“I believe this car hit mine in the car park of Tesco’s store last week,” I stood with my arms folded.

She mirrored me, “It wasn’t me,” she said.

“There’s white paint on the rear bumper, which I’m sure matches that on my car.”

“Can’t be, I wasn’t there.”

“I have a copy of the CCTV film which shows you were.”

“You’re lying.”

“I think it’s you who might be employing terminological inexactitudes and quite deliberately so.”

“What?”

“You’re the one who’s lying.”

“Prove it.”

“I will, I’d like your name and address and the name of your insurance company.”

“They’re in the car,” she said and I stood back while she got into the car, locked the doors and drove off at speed nearly running over some chap walking back to his car after paying for his fuel.

She obviously thought she was Stirling Moss, although he was a brilliant driver and extremely charming. I decided that pursuit was not the best policy and went to the police station.

I explained what I was there for and was wanting some assistance in identifying the driver who when annoyed or embarrassed drove like a demon. He shrugged, “It was on private property, nothing to do with us.”

“I see, so if I happen to run over a pedestrian pushing a trolley and kill them, then it’s not your concern?”

“If someone was injured, we want to know.”

“But she’s guilty of causing damage, failing to stop at the scene of an accident and then failing to report it.”

“No one was hurt.”

“It caused loads of damage to my car, which I have to pay for.”

“That’s a civil matter.”

“Her actions were verging on criminal, and her driving was reckless–go and see the CCTV of her leaving the filling station.”

“There’s a website you can contact to start claims against other drivers, I suggest you use that if you wish to pursue her for damage to your car.”

“What if one of my children had been in the car when she hit it?”

“We’d have prosecuted you for negligence–it’s an offence to leave a child alone in a car for more than a few moments.”

“It only took a few moments for her to bash in the side of my car, I could have been taking the trolley back to the trolley park.”

“But you weren’t, you said she did it while you were in the shop.”

“Maybe I’ll just pay a couple of heavies to go round and rough her up?” I mused aloud, it wasn’t my intention but he didn’t know that.

“If you do, we know where to come to find you.”

“Or cut the brakes on her car.”

“It sounds as if you don’t think it would make much difference to her driving, so why bother–and it could get you a jail term. Is it worth becoming a jailbird just to get even?”

“I should like to see her banned from driving.”

“Bit severe, isn’t it?”

“She’s annoyed me twice now and isn’t dealing with the consequences of her actions. She’s like some ancient teenager. How long will it be before she kills someone?”

“That isn’t your problem love–then it becomes ours.”

“Well, I shall keep an eye out for her and if I see she has hurt someone, I shall make sure the local paper knows all about your reluctance to deal with her.”

“Is that a threat?”

“Certainly not, it’s a statement of fact.”

“That you’ll create a stink?”

“Shall we say, I’ll bring it to the attention of the local media.”

“Sounds like a threat to me.”

“Oh well you can replay your CCTV and see that I wasn’t making a threat, just suggesting possible outcomes. I hope your CCTV got that.” I smiled at the camera.

I’d just got back into the Mondeo when my mobile went and it was the chap from the university–he’d pretty well got the numbers, I asked him what they were and he read them to me over the phone. They were the same as the car driven by the woman I’d approached in the filling station. I thanked him, and would sent him a few bottles of wine to show gratitude.

Back at home, I checked Trish’s efforts, she was nearly there which for a seven year old was pretty impressive. I ran check for the website which would identify the driver. I don’t know if it was the same one the copper had meant because I had to pay to use it–however, twenty five quid later, I had a name and address.

I sent Simon an email passing on this info, so he could notify the insurance company. He wrote back thanking me and saying he’d be home after six. Quite why he did that I don’t know, he rarely gets home before six most of the time.

I started the ingredients for a cottage pie, cooking loads of potatoes and mince–no not together–duh. When I went to collect the girls, I had a large tin of it browning in the oven, together with a smaller one for Simon.

I collected the girls and told Trish that I’d seen the old lady again–the car driver, not the goddess one–and that the bloke from the university IT department had cracked the image to confirm the number of the car.

She was rather miffed that I hadn’t waited for her to finish it. I tried to explain that it was needed more quickly than she could do, but that I was grateful for her efforts. I gave her a chocolate bar to eat after her dinner which she put down on the dining table and someone else ate–I suspect, Danny who was seen chewing something before the meal although he denied it. She found the wrapper in the bin and wanted to do DNA and fingerprint testing on it. I found another one and she hid that one away.

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