(aka Bike) Part 1595 by Angharad Copyright © 2011 Angharad
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Stella was back by the time I got home with the girls and I had some difficulty looking her in the eye. “What are you up to, Cathy Watts?”
“Page ninety three where he finds the body in the garage, you?”
“Ha ha, very funny. Now what’s going on, Watts?”
“Nothin’,” said Trish walking past the kitchen. Stella rolled her eyes.
“Is everyone called Watts deliberately stupid, or is it genetic?” she asked, looking at me quizzically.
“I don’t think it’s my genes,” I said. “Only when I wear a skirt.”
“Will I ever get a sensible answer out of you?”
“Depends upon you asking a sensible question,” I answered, hoping I’d misdirected her.
“You’re up to something, Watts,” she said.
“No I’m not, I’m doin’ my homework,” Trish called as she walked past the other way. At this Stella started to laugh and we both ended up with a giggle fit which left us out of breath and with tears streaming down our faces.
“Cor, that was nearly as good as sex,” Stella sighed and with a faraway look in her eye added, “and that stupid Welsh swine was a damned good lover.”
My tummy flipped, I had an opening, but did I want to use it? I waited until she came back to the present. “Would you take him back?”
“Doubt it, takes more than good sex to make a relationship.”
“You were a bit strange when he left.”
“A bit–I was totally barking–but he ran. Men–ha–they always run.”
“I think he was really fond of you.”
“So why’d he run?”
“Perhaps he couldn’t cope–men are a bit like that, Stella–look at Simon, he sticks his head in the sand or runs away. They apparently feel emotional things more than women and they can’t handle it.”
“They feel things worse than women?–come on ...”
“According to one text book I read they do.”
“So how come we have more empathy–isn’t that about feeling what the other person is feeling?”
“Ah empathy is different. It’s not about feeling what others feel as far as they’re concerned, it’s about what they’re feeling.”
“Yeah, sod everyone else.”
“That’s a bit dismissive, Stella, they get overloaded and they don’t offload like women do. We network things, they store it up–repress it and it comes back to bite ’em.”
“You sound very sympathetic to him, but then you always did fancy him, didn’t you?”
“It was purely window shopping, I’m married to Simon, remember him? Big chap, not very bright, but extremely generous.”
She almost smirked, “He’d fall apart if you did the dirty on him, you realise that, don’t you?”
“Yes and I’m not; but it proves my point that men can’t deal with emotions, because they’re terrified they’ll lose control and when that happens, someone gets hurt, often the individuals themselves.”
“Wadd’ya mean?”
“They often kill themselves.”
“So do women, or would if certain people didn’t interfere.”
“Not as often as men, or shall we say they tend to succeed more often than women who do more para-suicides.”
“What, they jump off things or out of planes?”
“You know bloody well what I mean. You’re a trained nurse.”
She laughed at me, “Yeah, but you were rambling on like a college professor, so I let you continue.”
“Bitch,” I snapped at her.
“If ya got it, flaunt it.” She pretended to buff her nails, then she nearly knocked me over, “So when did you see him?”
“See who?”
“Taffy, the Welsh heartthrob.”
“Who?”
“Gareth bloody Sage Ph. bloody D.”
“Who says I saw him?”
“I do.” I felt myself get rather warm. The bitch, she’s so much better at these mind games than I am. I should have kept my big gob firmly closed.
“What makes you say that?” I was still very hot and a rivulet of sweat ran down my back.
“You do, you’ve seen him, haven’t you? Spill, Watts!”
I looked round, but Trish wasn’t at the door, so she obviously meant me. Why was I blushing–she hadn’t said she didn’t, or wouldn’t, speak with him. “Okay, he called by my office this afternoon.”
“Oh yeah, wanted to enrol on a course did he?”
“Now you mention it–no, he wanted to know how you were, and Fiona, of course.”
“So why didn’t he come to me?”
“Why don’t you ask him yourself?”
“How am I supposed to do that?”
“He’s just driven into the drive.”
“Oh shit and look at me. I’m like a scarecrow,” she flapped and ran off upstairs.
“Can’t say I know many scarecrows who wear Gucci,” I said to myself as I walked to the door.
I opened the door, “I thought you were going to phone?”
He looked sheepish again, well, he is Welsh, or could that be New Zealand–two tiny countries surrounded by sheep–duh–populated by sheep, yeah that’s better.
“Sorry, I had to pass this way so I thought I grab the bull by...”
“The testicles?” I offered.
“I thought the expression was, by the horns?”
“Yeah but I’m updating the English language when I’m not saving the world.”
“I think I prefer the original expression.”
“Yeah, I was probably thinking about Stella...”
“Oh, is she likely to turn violent?”
“Wouldn’t you if you were effectively jilted at the altar?”
“I didn’t jilt her at the altar–we hadn’t got that far.”
“You left her with your baby.”
“On your advice.”
“It was hardly advice. It was more to give her some space for a short time.”
“Oh, I thought you said 'run for it she’s crazy'–so I did.”
“At least you can claim English isn’t your first language.”
“But it is, Cathy.”
“I suppose you want me to ask her if she’ll see you?”
“I’d be most grateful if you would.”
“Okay, wait here.” I strolled up the stairs and knocked on Stella’s door–remember she has a suite of rooms not just a bedroom.
“Who is it?”
“It’s me, he wants to see you and the baby.”
“Are you going to stay?”
“I live here, remember?”
“No, stay with us, I mean.”
“No way, I value my life–besides I don’t want to learn any new profanities.”
“Any what?” she stared at me in surprise.
“Profanities, you know...”
“I know what profanities means, I just wondered why you said it?”
“Possibly because I have a rather good vocabulary.”
“You What?”
“I used to be, now it’s Cameron if you remember.” I began to wonder if I should have checked my life insurance before I came up here.
“Go and get him,” she said, rolling her eyes again.
“D’you want me to take the little ones?”
“What for?”
“In case–you know...”
“No, I will stay perfectly calm–it’s you who winds me up–not Gareth.”
“Meee? How could you?”
“See, you’re at it again–now push off and show him up.”
“I thought he’d showed himself up already.”
“When has he been here?” she looked horrified.
“I didn’t mean that definition of showing up–oh never mind, I’ll go and get him.”
When I got downstairs Gareth and Trish were in deep discussion about Schrodinger’s cat. “I just hope he didn’t die in the basket.”
“He’s not a real cat, Trish, it’s a theoretical cat.”
“Is that one of Possum’s cats?”
“What?” Gareth look bemused.
“You know, like Mr Mephistopheles.”
“Oh, TS Eliot.”
“No, there’s no cat called TS Eliot, I know them all by heart. There’s the Jellicles and...”
“Trish, please behave,” I said curtly as I entered the kitchen.
“But I am, an’ there’s no cat called TS Eliot.”
“TS Eliot wrote the book.”
“No, that’s Old Possum.” She wasn’t going to be diverted.
“Go on up Gareth, you know which one it is.” With that he set off up the stairs.
“Mummy, here look, it says Old Possum’s book of practical cats by TS El–oh.”
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Comments
It's good to know ...
... that Trish isn't totally infallible.
Just wondered with all that talk about sheep if Gareth wore his wellies? You now, coming from that land where men are men and sheep are nervous and all?
Robi
I second that
I wonder how Miss Trish feels, finding out she isn't all knowing?
Wonderful episode, Angharad.
Holly
It's nice to be important, but it's more important to be nice.
Holly
I Thought I Was Wrong
I thought I was wrong once, but, I was was mistaken.
Michelle B
Never mind Stella...
How will Gareth cope with prolonged exposure to Little Miss Brainbox? :)
Still, if he decides to temporarily move in, she may unintentionally provide a good incentive for him to wean Stella into moving up to the house he bought for them in Waterlooville or Horndean...
As I said at the time, it's only about 10 miles away, so within half an hour's journey by car, so perfectly possible for her to visit the madhouse or them to visit her :)
As the right side of the brain controls the left side of the body, then only left-handers are in their right mind!
Easy As Falling Off A Bike pt 1595
Wonder if he will stay
May Your Light Forever Shine
-oh
Ah, that moment of realization. So much fun when you aren't on the wrong end of it. I hope all goes well with Gareth and Stella.
Thanks Angharad.
Brain the size of a planet
and Trish struggles with book titles.
Loved the 'Watts' repartee; just the thing to induce sleepwalking ERR a good night's sleep. (Sorry; a slip of the tourniquet)
Susie
Lions den.
Now this should be interesting. Is Gareth entering the Scottish lion's den or is he entering the Welsh dragon's den. Either way this going to be tricky cos' he sure ain't gonna' get off lightly.
Good luck Gareth and if I were Angie I'd stay well clear; these things sometimes tend to cascade onto an innocent third party when lovers or ex-lovers get involved.
This meeting has the potential to go in any direction so the best steps Cathy can take are 'b----y g---t b-g o--s' in the direction of AWAY.
Good chapter Angie.
Still lovin' it.
Bev.
OXOXOX.
Oh...
Oy vey...
Things get "interesting" around that house. It's obvious that someone suggested Cathy live in "interesting" times. :-)
(Finally caught up again!) Interesting that Gareth makes an appearance. Wonder if the young lady from a Baltic state will work out... I've friends that had Ophair's from that part of the world - and were VERY happy. Then, there was the "mad Latvian" (that's what she called herself) - she was a good friend to my wife.
And - Julie going to visit folks. Wonder how that'll go. Wonder what happened to her friend. Not heard much recently.
Interesting things a happening.
Thank you,
Anne
I hope those two
make a go of it. Stella need a good man, but at least Garath can fake it.