The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike) Part 1596 by Angharad Copyright © 2011 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

Trish and I sat and read Possum’s Cats and both laughed. “Did you know that the stage show Cats is based on these characters?”

“No, what’s Cats?” she looked blankly at me. I keep forgetting she’s only seven.

“It’s a stage show, you know musical with dancing.”

“Sounds nice.”

“I believe it is or was–ran for several years. I was going to go and see it but never got round to it.”

“Why not, Mummy?” she put her hand on my lap.

“The show was booked up for months in advance and because it was so popular, it was quite expensive.”

“Do they have it on DVD?”

“I don’t know, Trish, probably.”

“Why don’t we look in the library, Mummy?”

“I suppose we could.”

“C’mon, let’s go and do it now.”

“What about the others?”

“They can come too, and Julie will watch Catherine.”

“I don’t know, she was babysitting earlier.”

“I’ll get her to do it.”

“And just how will you get her to do it?”

“I’ll tell her if she doesn’t do it, her fanny will stick out again.”

I snorted, “You can’t say that.”

“Why not, she’d listen, wouldn’t she?”

“I’ll go and ask her.” I decided to recover the initiative from this seven year old gangster.

“If she says no, tell her what I said.”

“I’ll do no such thing.”

“Bah,” she said and stomped off, presumably to find her library books.

Julie was more than happy to sit for an hour, Catherine was in the sitting room with her anyway, she was playing with some stacking pot things. She asked if I could get her a DVD and I agreed to look. Walking back to Trish, the title seemed quite familiar and when I looked on the shelf we already had it. I walked back and gave it to her. She was very pleased. The film, Monty Python’s Life of Brian.

When I got back to the others they were all waiting with a bag of books each. “Okay, remember what the date is on your books and make sure you take them back to the library in time–so don’t tell me the day after. If you haven’t finished them, we can renew but if you incur any fines, you can pay them.”

Trish shrugged, Mima nodded and Livvie complained. Nothing changes. We piled into my Jaguar and set off for the library. Thankfully it didn’t close for another hour. Trish and I went to look at the films while the other two went straight to their favourite bookshelves.

Trish did locate a copy, in a couple of minutes flat, so sometime in the next day or two we’d have to watch Cats. Oh well, I’m sure it’s more entertaining than listening to Stella and Gareth argue.

I had a quick browse of the detective novels and found a Donna Leon I hadn’t read, so I snatched that off the shelf. The girls needed a few minutes longer so I gave them just five minutes. They each came out with an armful of books, so they’d be quiet for a night or two. They enjoyed reading and I bought them loads of books as well. Some were more successful than others.

I’ve always been a bibliophile, from childhood onwards my bedroom has bulged at the seams through the number of books I had. Nowadays with the extension, I have floor to ceiling shelving in my study plus some more in our bedroom, so I suppose I must have a couple of thousand books. Yeah, must have–I’ve got over two hundred on birds or watching them–I nearly specialised in ornithology, but can’t say I regret my dormeece for one moment, they are just so cute and have given me so much pleasure.

I parked in the drive and although it was getting dark I could see well enough to realise Gareth’s Land Rover had gone. Was that a good or a bad thing? I locked the car after the kids had disembarked and run into the house–it was starting to rain.

Gareth had said he was only passing by–yeah sure–I just happened to go out to the library and there was a copy of Cats. Yeah sure.

“How was she?” I asked Julie, picking up the little terror who was busy trying to repot one of my African violets.

“No trouble–you should watch this film, Mummy, it’s good.”

“I saw it in the cinema.”

“Wow are you that old?”

“No, it was in a film club at Sussex uni.”

“Didn’t have you down as an arty-farty type–well not the arty bit anyway.”

“Huh, thanks for the reference. There’s lots you don’t know about me, girl.”

“Like what? Remember I’ve seen the scrap book Mr Whitehead made of you.”

“That’s only what he knew about.”

“I see, so don’t tell me you were running a brothel at the age of ten?”

“Okay, I won’t tell you.” I walked off carrying my baby who tried to shove her favourite doll up my nose and squealed when I stopped her. She squeals like a personal safety device–a thousand decibels of high pitched ear damage. And no she wasn’t related to Mima. “Thank you, darling, I always wondered what being deaf was like–I have much better insight now.”

I took her into the kitchen with me and put her in her bouncer which she adores, she squealed with delight this time and bounced up and down–I’m afraid they don’t do anything else–or aren’t supposed to. While she giggled and bounced I began to get the dinner ready. I wondered if I’d ever manage to hand over responsibility to Irena or whatever her name was. I’d tried calling her several times to confirm the appointment and for her to sign the enclosed contract.

After dinner, I’d get Simon to come with me and check out the address we had. I suppose she could be away or changed her mind. While I thought about it, I called James.

“Well, two calls in one month–is this a record?” he said as he picked up.

“You haven’t found anything else about that girl I asked you to check, have you?”

“No, has something happened?”

“I tried to call her to remind her to sign the contract–I sent her one.”

“Has she gone home prior to working for you?”

“I have no idea, except she doesn’t return my calls–I’ve left several messages on her voicemail.”

“That mobile or landline?”

“Mobile.”

“Have you got the number handy?” he asked and I recited it to him.

“I thought I might get Simon to accompany me to her address tonight and see if she’s alright.”

“Want me to take a look?”

“You could do.”

“I’ll pop down there tomorrow first thing, I’ll let you know what I find.”

“You have her address?”

“Yes, I did the checks for you, remember?”

“I hope nothing’s happened.”

“I doubt it, these Eastern European types are here to make money, so she might have had a better offer.”

“I doubt it.”

“She might have seen the exposé the Sunday Times did on you and slave labour.”

“Now if you’d said Daily Wail, it would have been more convincing.”

“Okay, leave it with me–I’ll let you know what I find.”

“Usual rates, I take it?”

“Yeah, shouldn’t take more than a couple of weeks.”

“Hours you mean?”

“Of course, what did I say?” he laughed.

“Go and set your alarm so you’re up nice and early.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He rang off and I felt a bit better. Hopefully he’d find a neighbour who could tell him she was away or whatever. He also had a photo of her so if she was there he’d find her and I might learn if she was going to work for me or not. I returned to my role as domestic goddess–well if it’s good enough for Nigella...