The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike) Part 1556 by Angharad Copyright © 2011 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

In the end I had boiled eggs. I love boiled eggs with toast soldiers. I did find the smell of chips overpowering and instead of making me want to grab one, I felt more like barffing. For chips, I really have to be in the mood. Today, I clearly wasn’t.

I left the table on the excuse of making drinks, which meant I had to go from the dining room to the kitchen, I switched the kettle on and cleared up all the chip wrappers and the little polystyrene trays they use presumably to keep things warm on the journey home. The smell of those was sickening as I stuffed them into a black bin bag. The few odd chips and things which had eluded the feeding frenzy I gave to Kiki then let her out in the garden. The sun had come out but there seemed more clouds about, and to the west it looked quite dark.

I thought about the wheel, perhaps I could have tried for a bit longer to straighten it but Simon had opened his silly mouth and I took advantage of it. I’ll have to get him something nice for Christmas–his wallet was looking a bit worse for wear, so the kids can get that for him.

I made a pot of tea and took it, together with cups and saucers, a second pot of hot water and some milk, through to the dining room. Stella and Caroline cleared the dirty crocks and took them through to the kitchen while I poured the teas. The kids didn’t want tea, so I sent them to make themselves drinks.

The phone rang and I heard Stella answer it. She seemed to chat for ages and when I looked her tea was getting cold. I added some hot water and put the saucer on the top of the cup. She popped back into the dining room, “Si, it’s for you.”

“Who is it?” he called back.

“Dad, so get your arse out here.”

“Charming,” he muttered, “finishing school was a waste of money in her case.” Stella came back to drink her tea and Caroline collected the dirty cups and saucers to put them in the dishwasher.

“What did Henry want?” I asked when he returned to the table.

“Where’s my tea?”

“Sorry, thought you’d finished it.”

“I might have done–he wants me to go to town tomorrow. They’re releasing the results of the enquiry on Monday and they thought it only fair for me to be briefed before it.”

“Why couldn’t you have gone in early on Monday instead of wasting another day?”

“Look, Babes, when he tells me to jump–I do so. He usually has his reasons.”

“Did he give you any clues?”

“No the guy running the enquiry wants to tell me himself.”

“Does he know? I mean Henry?”

“Probably, but he wouldn’t break a confidence.”

“Even to his son?”

“Especially to his son. He sets the standard he wants us all to follow.”

“So will you be getting an early flight on Monday to escape the furor?”

“If it goes against me, you mean?”

“Duh–well what’s the worst that can happen if they find you not guilty?”

“It’s an enquiry, not a trial.”

“It would have the same effect if you’re guilty.”

“I’ll be reprimanded, whatever, it was my signature on the agreement to buy that American Bank.”

“So you’ll look before you leap, next time.”

“Won’t be a next time.”

“What? You’re not leaving the bank–are you?”

“Don’t be silly, where else will they pay me a bundle for doing bugger all?”

“You work quite hard, don’t you?”

“Sometimes, then we make a profit.”

“Why not all the time?”

“Because timing is everything. It’s a bit like being a shark in a goldfish pond and waiting for the right moment to strike.”

“You could have problems with that analogy, sharks are marine fish and goldfish are freshwater.”

“Have you always got to be so pedantic?”

“Yep, I’m a scientist, remember?”

“How could I forget you telling me I could trust you, you were a scientist?”

“Did I say that?”

“You did.”

“When?”

“When we first went out together.”

“We had to be together, Si, otherwise you wouldn’t have heard me, would you?”

“You should have been a barrister–I could just see you eating defendants alive in the dock.”

“I might be an incisive interrogator, but I am definitely not into cannibalistic activities.”

“Oh I don’t know, you ate me one night if you remember.”

“Simon, there are children and women present.” I chided him.

“It was your first time too, wasn’t it?”

“Could you go and get the wheel back?”

“Why?”

“Because I’d rather try and straighten it than continue this conversation.”

He blushed, “It was you who wanted to do it if I remember correctly,” he continued.

“Simon, shut up, will you?”

He suddenly noticed that Caroline was looking at him with eyes as big as saucers. “Oh, okay then–but you did.”

It was I who was blushing when Caroline looked to say something, then changed her mind. She went to walk away came back and said to herself, “No, it doesn’t matter,” and left.

I didn’t see what went on between a man and wife as anything embarrassing, as long as it was kept in context and preferably in the bedroom. Simon had taken the whole thing out of context and deliberately, because he was trying to be funny. Thankfully, at bedtime he didn’t try to make me eat my words or anything else for that matter; he was too keyed up about his facing the music the next day. I asked him if he was taking Jason with him and he shook his head, he would do it alone.

“I’ll come with you, if you want–you stood by me when my reputation was in question.”

“When has your reputation ever been in dispute? You make Mother Theresa look like a mafia boss.”

“I remember a certain young man coming with me to the BBC in Bristol to support me in my hour of need–I had a tabloid after me if you recall?”

“God, that was years ago, and the only reason they were after you was because you were going out with me.”

“They as good as accused me of corrupting young people’s minds. I was only doing research then–not teaching.”

“I’ll ask the others to watch the kids, Stella has enough milk these days to feed a calf, so she could spare a couple of mils for Catherine; unless you want me to bring her along?”

“Certainly not, they’d probably ask her to testify against me.”

“Si, this is to hear the findings, not go on trial.”

“They go to the FSA, they could prosecute or disbar me from being a director.”

“They won’t–you were duped! Hell, it happened to RBS, and they pensioned off the guy with half a million a year. I suspect we could live on that alongside my meagre earnings.”

“I don’t know–this could ruin me.”

“Look we’ll put the girls on the game when they’re a bit older–that should bring in a few more quid.”

“I’ll bring shame on the family and the bank.”

“You won’t–you’re not like that guy in New York, are you?”

“Who–Madoff? No, that was a Ponzi scheme, and crooked from the word go, and he screwed them for billions.”

“A Bonzi scheme?”

“No, Ponzi, where the interest supposedly paid comes from later investors–it’s bound to be discovered in the end unless you have an unending investor clientele. That’s pure crime, mine was nothing like that.”

“I’ll come with you tomorrow, wear your best suit and I’ll do the same–we’ll be the Bonny and Clyde of High Street Banks.” I smirked, and he went quite pale.