Easy As Falling Off A Bike.
by Angharad
part 58.

"What did you do?" asked Stella emerging from the lounge.

"I didn't do anything?" Simon felt guilty even though he knew his conscience was clear.

"If you didn't do anything, then how come she's gone screaming up to her room?"

"She didn't go screaming," declared Simon firmly.

"What did you do, offer to show her your etchings?"

"Very funny Stella, how come I'm not laughing?"

"I don't know, but you're usually a few minutes after the punch line." Stella put down the Radio Times and asked, "She's had a very trying day, do you want me to go and talk with her or are you expecting to waste those dance tickets for tomorrow?"

"We pay on the door," Simon shook his head.

"However you get in, do you want me to go and see if I can repair the damage you've done?"

"I didn't do anything, she just told me I was very kind and that she was bad news."

"Bad news?" Stella looked puzzled, "She wasn't going to use you in one of her experiments was she?"

"Stop being frivolous Stella, is there anything about her I should know?"

"You mean apart from the mass murder and the sex change?" Stella threw back at him.

"Very funny, now is there?"

"She's supposed to be doing a bike race on sunday, apart from that, how am I supposed to know? I only met her a couple of hours before you did, and I've been trying to get her to date you ever since."

"Your efforts are appreciated Stella, but I can't understand why she said that about being bad news."

"Maybe she's just upset about losing her mum, she went to her funeral today after all."

"I know all that, I just can't figure her out."

"Maybe it's her period?"

"I suppose, you're strange enough when your having one, maybe she is too."

"I'm not strange, how dare you?"

"Stella, you are crazy at the best of times, at the worst you are positively barmy."

"I prefer deranged, as in flower deranging."

"Members of the jury I rest my case."

"What?" asked Stella looking around.

"Well it was getting heavy."

"What was?"

"My case."

"What the hell are you on about?"

"Who?"

"You, you B.O.B!"

"B.O.B! What's a B.O.B?"

"Brother of a bitch, why?"

"Did you just invent that?"

"Yes, why?"

"It's good, yes I like that, BOB, he he."

"I thought you might, tell me do you fancy Cathy?"

"As I'm neither blind nor celibate, yes of course I do, but then I suspect half the male population of Portsmouth does, the ones who aren't dead."

"Do you want a relationship with her?"

"If she wants one too."

"You know she is very shy?"

"Yes, but that makes her slightly vulnerable and adds to her attractiveness."

"She is very vulnerable, she is as green as grass when it comes to boys and I don't want to see her hurt. I suspect she may have a history of abuse."

"Oh, I see." Simon shook his head, "Well that could certainly cause her to think she was bad news."

"I think she mentioned she sees a therapist."

"Poor kid."

"Exactly, look you're going to have to face it, but she may not be interested in sex for a long time if at all."

"Oh, pity."

"So does that mean you're not interested in her anymore?"

"Don't be stupid Stella, even I'm not that shallow!" Simon tried to sound indignant.

"No you're at least a metre at the deep end."

"Very funny, I don't think."

"Look, I'll speak with her in the morning and tell her you're prepared to wait for her to feel ready, how does that sound?"

"I suppose."

"Well is it okay or not?"

"Yeah, it's okay."

Instead of saying anything, Stella hugged her brother. "Thank you, I'm sure she'll be worth the investment."

"I do the financial stuff around here," Simon hugged his sister, "but on this occasion, I agree with you."

"You've got a real soft spot for her haven't you?" said Stella quietly as they continued the embrace.

"So have you, why?"

"She's a bit like a kitten, cuddly and defenceless. I'm just trying to help her grow."

"What into a cat like you?" Simon felt pleased with his remark having got one back on his sister.

"You bastard," she said and hit him on the shoulder.

"Ouch! That hurt."

"It was meant to."

Oblivious to all this, I was lying asleep on my bed exhausted from the day's trauma, I hadn't even undressed or removed my makeup. In my haste to feel safe and escape Simon's generosity of which I felt unworthy, I had slammed and locked the door and thrown myself on the bed. Then I had howled to myself for a while until fatigue overwhelmed me and I fell asleep.

The first I knew of the morning was that I was still curled up on the bed in my navy suit, it was creased to hell. My neck hurt and I had red wrinkle lines on the one side of my face where the skin had been held against the sleeve of my suit and taken an imprint of the creases.

I looked in the mirror, I had dark rings around my rather bloodshot eyes and my skin looked pasty. My tongue was grey and looked more revolting than usual and my head ached. Despite a full night's sleep I felt like going back to bed and never waking up again, just sleeping forever. However, I knew that I had to get up and go home and somehow make myself look alive enough to keep my promise to Simon for his dance tonight. I felt more like death than dancing. A fleeting thought of Ravel's Bolero went through my mind, a dance of death, however, the nearest volcano to Portsmouth would be either Iceland or Italy. Both were a bit too far away to dance to and I wasn't sure Simon would be too interested in throwing himself into the fire. Come to think of it, neither was I, much too painful. I wondered if there was a Bolero for wimps?

The bedside clock showed it was nearly nine, I had slept about twelve hours, so how could I feel tired? I stripped off and donning the robe on the back of the door, slipped into the bathroom for a pee and a shower.

The warm water refreshed me a little and I cleaned off the makeup as well as my mood. There was a sadness, of course there was, no one would ever fill the void left by my mother's death, but it felt a little more bearable today. The funeral had provided an element of closure.

I recalled my departure from Simon last night. I wondered what he had made of it, in part I hoped I had put him off, while the other part of me was feeling more and more for him. Had he offered me the use of a car or had I dreamed it? I was so out of it last night I could have imagined it.

Walking back to my room, I realised I had no other clothes except the suit, but when I opened the bedroom door, I saw Stella had been clearing out more of her wardrobe and denim skirt and white top were left on the bed, along with some white panties. I silently offered a prayer to my fairy godmother friend, and got dressed, slipping on the navy courts after combing my hair back off my face.

Downstairs, Stella was eating some toast and reading the paper, "Hi," she greeted me and I replied in a similar manner. I poured myself some coffee and drank it, allowing the caffeine boost to kick start my system.

"Where's Simon?" I asked noticing his absence.

"He's gone out somewhere."

"I think I shall either have to tell him or end it with him." I felt sick saying it but felt it was the only choice open to me.

"Don't do anything hasty," Stella gave me a firm but supportive look, "I've told him you're emotionally fragile at the moment and had some difficulties with sex."

"You did what?" I gasped, horrified at her boldness.

"I told him you'd had a bad experience sexually and it might take some time for you to be able to have a full relationship."

"What did he say to that?" I was incredulous with Stella's scheming.

"He'd be sympathetic and supportive."

"Stella, I can't lead him on like this, it's dishonest."

"No you have a medical problem, but we can get that sorted eventually."

"No, I need to tell him."

"Don't do it yet. What happens if the relationship falls apart anyway, do you want to hurt him by letting him know he was dating a boy? He doesn't need to know yet, let's find out how it develops and if he falls for you, then obviously you'll need to tell him then."

"I don't know Stella, I don't like deception."

"Neither do I, but honestly, I think it's for the better to leave things as they are and if it falls apart, what his eye didn't see his heart won't grieve over.