The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike) Part 1870 by Angharad Copyright © 2012 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

Before I changed my mind, I sent an email to the headmaster, a Mr Mellors accepting his offer. Mellors? Wasn’t that the name of the bit of rough in Lady Chatterly, and wasn’t that how Chalmers addressed me, as Lady Chatterly. I checked, it was–the bastard.

I looked again at the date, damn, it was for Tuesday, the day after tomorrow, well the next day–you know what I meant. How did they know I’d be available? I had no idea so after checking the younger kids were in bed I went to my own and read some more Brunetti–I’ll bet his wife Paola doesn’t get into half as many scrapes as I do and she teaches at a university as well.

I managed about five pages before I had to lie down and go to sleep. I felt Simon come to bed, he pecked me on the cheek and I went back to oblivion. Sunday dawned and I was up early enough to remind Julie to drive carefully and that Mondeos didn’t grow on trees. I gave the two of them ten pounds each for their lunch so I knew they wouldn’t starve and I knew the car had pretty well a full tank of diesel.

“Thanks, Mummy,” said Julie pecking me on the cheek.

“Yeah, thanks, Mu–mmy,” said Phoebe stumbling over her words. I patted her on the bum and said they were both welcome. A sixteen year old girl needs her mother or a substitute one–I only hoped I could live up to the challenge.
I went to organise my breakfast when she came trotting back in, Phoebe that is. “I’m sorry.”
“What for?”

“I said I wouldn’t call you that and I keep doing it.”

“Call me whatever you like, I really don’t mind.”

“I don’t want to forget my real mother,” she said sniffing.

“Don’t worry, you won’t. I told you I wasn’t trying to take her place–I’m not, no one could, but I am taking on some of her jobs, the first being to try and help you be happy.”

“Thank you, Mummy–I feel safe with that, I used to call my other mother, Mum.”

“You call me whatever you feel comfortable with, okay?”

“Yes, Mummy, and thanks.” He threw her arms around my neck and gave me a smacker on my cheek. The horn of the Mondeo sounded outside.

“Go on, off you go and enjoy your course.”

“I will, Mummy,” she wiped her eyes careful not to smudge her makeup and dashed out to the drive.
I made myself some tea and after consuming some toast with it, I grabbed the Observer and did the crossword before anyone else could get to it. I’d just finished when Tom came back with Kiki and was greeted by Bramble who’d sneaked into the kitchen unseen by me. She immediately stood on her hind legs and boxed Kiki’s ears for her–in play I should add. The dog lay down and the cat rubbed herself against our dopy spaniel.
“Wuld ye look at that?”

“They do it all the time,” I replied. In truth I’d only seen them do it once before but it looked as if they’d practiced it before and our little purring psychopath seemed to be the instigator. “Coffee?” I asked warming up the stuff that looked like it had either been dredged out of the Hamble or taken from the bottom of the tanks at Fawley refinery.
While my back was turned Tom appropriated the newspaper and when I turned round it was tucked under his arm. I rolled my eyes, I only pay for it. I passed him his cup of slurry and he retired to his study just as the sound of hoofbeats echoed down the stairs.

Trish and Livvie jumped on me and were effusive in their affection. “What’s all this about?” I asked.

“Can we go out on the bikes again today?” asked Livvie though she obviously spoke for both of them.

“If Jacqui will look after Catherine while we’re out.”

“Oh she will, I asked her last night.” Trish showed her hand. I wondered why I bothered I’m outmanoeuvred every time she or any of the others want to do something.

“Have you done all your homework?” I asked and they both nodded. “And all your chores?” Same response. “So I can check on things can I?” I’m getting better at double bluffing.

“Um–I still have to finish my French,” said Livvie biting her bottom lip.

“I haven’t quite finished folding my laundry yet,” admitted Trish.

“Right get some breakfast and then go and do it.” I felt quite happy delaying, the cars were white with frost so it would take an hour or two to warm up enough to ride–well for the little ones, tough cookies like me, hardened by hours of winter cycling could cope with almost anything except blizzards. “Shut that door, it’s freezing in here,” well it was and I was standing right in line with it.

About an hour or so later, we were well insulated and sat upon our trusty steeds, me upon my mountain bike again. Trish had asked if we could go off road but it would be too muddy and I wasn’t going to be responsible for cleaning three muddy bikes notwithstanding the risks of thawing frost on top of the mud.

I remembered riding a kid, with a couple of school mates–they weren’t real friends, the only ones I had of those were girls like Siá¢n–we were riding on a bit of waste ground which had a few undulations. One of the boys, Dick Cheshire I think it was, mis-landed from one of the humps and hit a tree–he broke his arm, or it could have been Roy Blood, crashing into him which did it–he broke his nose and became aptly named. I managed to get round or over them and was unmarked by it all.

I helped them get back to their homes and at Dick’s house I’m sure I heard his dad say, “I see your girlfriend didn’t even get dirty,” I remember leaving there with this strange feeling in my tummy and my head felt full of cotton wool. I don’t think they were allowed to play with me again–I was too dangerous! Perhaps their parents thought they’d catch some sort of girly disease–I was just a better rider and didn’t take stupid risks.

Back to the present and we were riding along a quiet country lane when a car decided to stop in front of us and start doing a turn in the road. I called Trish to stop and wait and instead of doing as I asked she nearly got hit off her bike by the reversing car. Instead she managed to evade the car by riding on the grass verge, suddenly disappearing down through some bushes. Livvie went after her while I remonstrated with the driver, who was a ranting imbecile. He screamed off and I realised I’d lost both girls and charged off after them.

I found the break in the bushes and hoping I had my phone with me, I set off down between the shrubs and through a slippery animal track into some light woodland. I could just about make out tyre tracks and hoped they were the girl’s ones.

So engrossed was I in following the tracks when my helmet cracked into the branch of a birch tree and knocked me off my bike, landing me in the slipperiest and slimiest mud I’ve ever encountered. Once I got my breath back I tried to get myself up and succeeded only in making myself covered in the brown slime with the odd leaf attached for camouflage?
As I struggled I heard squeals of laughter as two miscreant schoolgirls nearly wet themselves at the sight before them. I did manage to get up and remount my bike and we rode home as quickly as possible, me doing an impression of a freshly exhumed body.

To add insult to injury, my quite expensive helmet had a huge crack in it, so that was the end of that. It could have been worse, the crack could have been in my skull.