The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike) Part 1540 by Angharad Copyright © 2011 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

“What’s it say?”

“They want to interview me some more.” He looked quite shaken by it.

“Is this the bank who are running it?”

“No, the FSA.”

“I thought your evidence from the States was conclusive and pretty damning of the embezzlers who scarpered to Argentina or wherever?”

“So did I.”

“When have you got to go?”

“The twenty fifth–shit, that’s tomorrow.”

“You’d better get hold of Jason,” I suggested.

“Yeah, I think you’re right.” He went off to my study to make his calls.

“What’s all that about?” asked Caroline.

“Simon was involved in a series of transactions which went pear shaped. He purchased a US bank which went belly up as soon as they got the money, and he lost quite a lot of money. There were three or four men who escaped to south America with rather a lot of British money.

“Simon and a friend of mine went to the States because the US bank’s auditor contacted him with evidence which showed Simon had been conned. They were going to collect the evidence when the office blew up–officially a gas main, but we think it was a bomb. The auditor was killed and some of the evidence destroyed.”

“Crikey, you people lead exciting lives compared to us country bumpkins.”

“If I told people I was married to a millionaire banker, they’d all think I was a lady of leisure with the only problem being where to spend money next or which salon to patronise next. It isn’t like that–Simon slogs for his money and this is one of the first times he’s got it wrong–being taken for a ride–but the books were bent and he was fooled. It could still ruin him.”

“I thought they owned the bank?”

“Not entirely, they own about half of it or just over, I think. I have some shares apparently, though I leave it to Simon to deal with them. I got paid a dividend and accepted more shares as payment–on his advice.”

“How much did he lose?”

“About four hundred million pounds.”

“How much?”

“Yeah, it’s astronomical figures–distance to nearest star or whatever.”

Caroline looked at me, “Excuse me for sounding entirely self centred, but this won’t have any adverse effect upon my job, will it–you know–economies and so on?”

“No, don’t worry about that–there’s a bit left in the kitty yet.”

“Sorry, but I had to ask–I enjoy myself here so much–you’re all mad but very likeable.”

“Mad? Me?” I said affecting an exaggerated twitch, “I am perfectly sane–the voices say so.” Caroline nearly fell over laughing just as Stella walked in.

“That cake’s for you, Stella.”

“Not sure I want to eat it if it gives you funny turns,” she said, giving me a very strange look.

I affected a tic somewhat similar to the one Eric Idle used in the Life of Brian when they were handing out the crosses. Stella cracked up and Caroline had tears running down her face. “You should be an actress,” she said, wiping her face.

“She is an acclaimed one,” said Stella huffily. "Her Lady Macbeth has been compared to Judy Dench’s.”

“Wow,” said Caroline, “I saw it back in school and it was pretty special then.”

“Finish the sentence, Stella,” I urged.

“What d’you mean, I did finish it.”

“No you didn’t, you should have said my Lady Macbeth has been compared to Judy Dench’s pet dog.”

“I see, more false modesty–okay, you were an old dog, end of story.” Stella took a bite of her fresh cream cake and some cream shot out and hit her in the eye. Caroline and I nearly fell over laughing.

“Serve you right–got your just desserts,” I said and laughed uproariously.

“If I get cholesterol poisoning in my eye, I’ll sue you–giving me a booby trapped cake–huh, how low can a girl sink?”

“Yeah, keep your eye on the cream, Stel.”

We were still in hysterics when Simon came back. “I’m going to see Jason.”

“When?” I asked.

“Now.”

“Oh–d’you want me to fix you some food first?”

“Haven’t got time–I’m just going to change and collect some documents and off I go.”

“Anything you want me to do?”

“No thanks, dunno if I’ll be home tonight, I might stay at the ’rents.” He went off to change.

“Not what you were expecting?” asked Caroline.

“The letter, no.” I answered and Stella looked at me quizzically. “The enquiry people want him back to clarify some points.”

“Oh–but I thought it was all cut and dried?” she responded wiping some cream off her nose.

“I hope it is–but I’m not holding my breath–seems the universe is out to get us.”

“My money’s on you, kiddo,” Stella shoved a large wodge of cake into her mouth and muttering something else I didn’t catch, went back up the stairs, presumably to feed Fiona.

“You’ve had a rough time lately with all this going on, losing your little girl and then Jenny leaving you and...”

“Yeah, that’s life–I try to look on the bright side.” Simon walked through with a suitcase and an attaché case. I was rather glad he didn’t start singing the song from The Life of Brian, so he probably didn’t hear my comment.

“I’m off, Babes,” he kissed me and walked towards the door.

“Let me know if you hear anything.”

“Yeah–okay.”

“And, Simon,” I called as he went through the door.

“What?” he asked testily turning in the doorway.

“Good luck, darling.”

“Yeah,” he said and left.

I shrugged–“I hate these tribunal things–full of old farts who spend their days rushing round colanders.”

Caroline snorted and went off to clean the windows before she became as mad as the rest of us. I went upstairs and sat in the girl’s bedroom, staring at the photo and holding her nightdress.

“I’ve done all the downstair’s windows–outside anyway–I can’t do the others without a ladder.” Caroline called up the stairs.

“You do them from the inside,” I glanced at my watch–it was time to collect the girls. I sent Danny a text telling him Simon had gone to work and he’d need to catch the bus. He sent me one back saying he’d got mine.

I seemed to have frittered a whole afternoon sitting grieving when there were things I needed to do. Would this emptiness never leave me? Oh. I can disguise it or distract myself for short periods. but it’s always there as soon as I stop.

Even if the queen of the fairies is looking after her, it’s of little consolation–I miss my child and nothing is going to fill that void–ever. I dashed out to the car and just made it to the school as the children were emerging like ants from a nest on a warm day.

“Ah, Lady Cameron, have you had a chance to think about the proposition I made you?” asked the headmistress presumably relating to the vacancy on the school’s board of governors.

“No, one of my staff is very poorly and I have other things to think about.”

“We’d love to have you–on the board I mean.”

“Sister Maria, I have just lost a child, I have someone who tried to kill themselves jumping off a motorway bridge, my husband is being investigated by the FSA and I have a series of lectures to prepare for the university–I haven’t got time to think about anything that doesn’t come into those categories.” I collected my children and walked briskly back to the car.

“Why was Sister Maria, crying?” asked Livvie.

“Because she just stuck her head in a lioness’s mouth and got bitten. C’mon, let’s get home.”