The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike) Part 1795 by Angharad Copyright © 2012 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

I left him sobbing in his bedroom. I felt I had little option as he’d practically asked me to leave. Obviously big he-men, don’t want their mothers to see their humiliation. Usually if he was in trouble it was me he wanted, I didn’t understand this change of mood towards me but rather than pick at an open wound, I decided I’d let someone else have a go first.

Trish tried and failed, she heard him sniffing when she went up to get something from her bedroom–again, normally she’d have heard his problem and offered a solution and he’d be half way to sorting it by now.

Livvie decided that if Trish couldn’t do it, she wasn’t even going to try and I stopped Meems from even considering it. She went off in a huff.

Sammi decided she didn’t know him well enough so didn’t volunteer, which I understood, although until recently she’d been living as a boy and might have had some sort of entry into his world, but I didn’t push it.

Simon, after he woke from his nap asked where Danny was and went up to speak with him–he wouldn’t even open his door, which he’d now managed to jam with a wedge of some sort. I hoped he’d be able to get it open again and that it didn’t damage the carpet or the door. I must be getting old.

David arrived to finish dinner and he offered to go and speak with the boy. I let him go, but he was also refused entry–he therefore went on to prepare vegetables and serve dinner.

Jacquie decided she had nothing to offer the situation and went to supervise the girls who were still playing outside.

Tom came in followed moments later by Julie in her pink Smart car–I know, OTT doesn’t begin to describe it, but she likes it, so who am I to grumble. Tom looked hot and bothered, so I left him to go and change for dinner. Julie looked around and saw Danny’s bag on the floor by the back door.

“Where’s my numpty brother?”

“He’s upstairs.”

“I’ll take this up to him then.”

I explained what had happened to my best knowledge and she nodded. A moment later she went upstairs still carrying his sports bag. I stood out of sight and listened.

“Hey, numpty, open this door, I’ve got yer ’andbag out ’ere.”

There was a pause when he presumably said something back to her.

“Open this bloody door, yer big poof–if I ’ave to force it open, I’ll ’ave yer balls for earrings–now open it.”

I stood there at the foot of the stairs shaking my head as his big sister threatened her way into his room–and it worked, I heard the door open, followed by laughter as she saw his shiner. I wondered if she’d have one as well at this rate.

The door closed again and I went back to the kitchen to ask David to slow things down a little, to give them a chance to talk for a few minutes. Ten minutes later while Trish laid the table, I sent Meems up to Danny’s room to tell them dinner was ready.

She came back down to report that her two older siblings would be down in a few minutes. David served up his steak and kidney pudding, which smelt delicious, and it wasn’t only Simon who was salivating at the prospect of eating it with new potatoes, baby carrots and garden peas–all dripping with freshly melted knobs of butter.

As the food appeared on the table, I dashed up to call the kids again, they were still talking. “C’mon, dinner’s up.” I looked at Danny and asked, “Feel better now?”

His eye looked better, so perhaps Julie still had the healing touch? Doubtless she’d tell me later. I went back down to eat mine while it was hot. Once some appeared in front of me, its smell went from delicious to divine, and the taste matched the odour–it was ten points past gorgeous, and the suet jacket melted in one’s mouth.

Simon had a silly look on his face as he savoured every fork load, I’m sure if his school meals had been this good, he’d still be there re-sitting his final exams for the umpteenth time and failing miserably again, just before they served dinner.

Julie came down, obviously having changed into jeans and a tee shirt from her working garb of black top and shorts with footless tights in Henry Ford’s favourite colour. Danny followed her down.

“Hey, everyone, my little bro here didn’t get his black eye fighting–all right–so leave the lad alone while he has his din-dins.” Julie certainly got attention and Danny went almost the same colour as her cerise tee shirt–the one with the caption on the front that says, ‘You can look but do touch.’ Simon threatened to chop it up the first time she wore it. I suspect she wore it now to push his buttons, the only problem being he was so enraptured with his snake and pigmy, he hadn’t noticed what she was wearing.

Dinner went quietly and everyone ignored the elephant of Danny’s peri-ocular bruising. Then when things had quietened down and Simon’s Kate and Sidney nirvana had passed, he spotted Julie’s tee shirt and a row ensued. The others who weren’t involved in clearing up stood around to watch while Simon ranted and Julie ignored him enough to land points scoring jabs with her tongue.

I watched Danny slip away and followed him, this time he was going to tell me or I’d give him a matching one on his other eye. Julie was correct, it wasn’t a fight that caused it. It was a helicopter.

His friend Richard was flying it again and lost control and it hit Danny in the face. They all thought it was funny, except Danny, who picked up the crash landed toy and threw it back at its owner, who now has a cut on his face. Which was when the fight did begin.

Apparently, there were three of them flying this helicopter thing, so when Richard and Danny started scrapping, the other boy, Ed came in on Richard’s side until Danny managed to land a punch on his nose and he departed hors de combat.

As we spoke I watched the discoloration growing fainter and by the time we’d finished we were both laughing. “So, d’you still want one of those helicopter things for Christmas?”

“Oh yeah, just don’t let Richard fly it.”

As we stood laughing on the landing Julie ran upstairs in her bra. I gasped at her and asked, “What happened to your tee shirt?”

“Daddy’s got it.”

“What he made you take it off in front of everyone?” I was aghast.

“Not until he offered me tweny quid, I didn’t.” She waved the said note under my nose.

“He paid you twenty pounds to take off your top?” I was just getting my evidence ready to start World War Three.

“He told me to stop wearin’ it ’cos it gives boys the wrong idea. I told ’im that was the point of it. He asked me to stop wearin’ it, an’ I said what’s it worth? Jokin’, like. He said twenty quid, so I said alright and took it off before he changed his mind.”

“Let me get this straight, you just sold your father your tee shirt for twenty quid?”

“Yeah.”

“How much did it cost you?”

“A fiver at the market.”

Obviously living with a banker in the family was affecting the way the children thought. I wonder if they do the tee shirts in my size?