The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike) Part 1872 by Angharad Copyright © 2012 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

The drive from Salisbury didn’t take very long, and Trish kept up a monologue from the back seat, or I thought it was, until I realised she was singing along to her iPlayer. For some reason she loves Kylie Minogue, never saw her as a Neighbour’s fan, but kids are full of surprises. Phoebe nodded off to sleep about twenty minutes after we set off, emotionally exhausted I should think. I let Trish croon on because I thought her inane noises from the back seat were probably better than her talking to me and waking Phoebe up. I reclined Pheeb’s seat a little and she stayed asleep all the way home.

Once at home, she went up to take a shower and the three of us had warmed up dinners in the kitchen, after which Phoebe went to bed, perhaps because she was tired, or simply needed some space to process what had happened.

She gave me a lovely hug and peck on the cheek and thanked me for my being there. I hugged her back and told her that’s what I did. She called me, ‘Mummy’ again, hugged me and went up to bed. Trish was intrigued by it all.

“Why is Phoebe calling you Mummy?”

“She’s asked me if she could.”

“Why?”

“Why did you?”

“’Cos I needed one and you were nice to me, like a mummy should be.”

“Well despite her age, she still feels a need to call someone her mother.”

“’Cos her first mother died?”

“Yes, she toughed it out for a while and decided she needed an older woman in her life to advise her and guide her from time to time.”

“What’s it like being old?” she asked.

“Old?”

“Yes, you said she wanted an old woman in her life and chose you.”

“I’m older than her but I’m not old, Trish. People aren’t old until they’re at least fifty.”

“Hoy, I heard that. Age is aboot yer mental state, no yer physical age.”

“Sorry, Daddy,” I blushed as Tom came into the kitchen.

“But Gramps is very old, so you must be over fifty, Gramps.”

“Aye, I’m fifty and twa months.”

“Gosh, that old?” her eyes widened and she went off to tell Livve, I expect. I shook my head and grinned and he nearly fell over laughing.

At this point Julie arrived with a face as black as thunder. “Where is she?”

“Who?” I asked.

“Bloody Phoebe, that’s who. Wait till I see her.”

Tom made his excuses and disappeared, leaving me alone with an irate teenager. I warmed up her dinner and the smell of the food changed her mood for a few moments and she sat and ate. I sat with her and made us both a cup of tea.

“So where was she?”

“Not far from you.”

“So why didn’t she call me and tell me where the bloody hell she was?”

“She had some unfinished business in Salisbury.”

“What with some dickhead boyfriend?”

“No, with saying goodbye to her mother.”

“Oh, why couldn’t she just say?”

“Julie, today is the first time she’s been back to Salisbury since the funeral. Since then her home has been sold and she’s found herself here as a sort of refugee.”

“What? She loves it here.”

“It’s not her home, though is it, and I’m not her mother. However nice we are it’s not the same, and she needs time and space to mourn her loss and adjust to her new life. You of all people should know that.”

She looked a little shamefaced at me and ate in silence for a few minutes. “Where was she?”

“In the garden of remembrance at the crematorium, where her mother’s ashes were scattered.”

“Oh, so how did you find her?”

“I tried to imagine myself in her position and knew it had to be something pretty important to cause her to just up and disappear from your course. It had to be her home or the funeral. I checked out both and found her, as I said. She’s had a very difficult day, so please treat her gently–she’s still quite vulnerable.”

“Of course, I’d never have thought of that, Mummy.”

“How was the course?”

“Okay, not as good as they told us it would be, it was mainly pushing a new brand of hair colour.”

“Any good?”

“It’s expensive, but supposed to last at least ten washes or seven weeks.”

“The one Stella uses now does that, if not longer.”

“That’s a good brand, better than this new one, but if that’s what we’re gonna use in future, what do I care?”

“What will you tell the salon about Phoebe?”

“Nothing, neither will the other girls. We all agreed that on the way home.”

“Good, I’m glad you’re treating her like a sister.”

“Yeah, well she’s a nice kid, and I like having Sam and her as my sisters as well as the kids.”

“Good, just keep an eye on her, and if she confides in you, treat it with respect.”

“Mu-uum, what d’you think I am? Of course I will, but that’s your job, not mine–you’re the mother superior round here, so you can do the confessions. Get Maureen to build you a booth like they have in Catholic churches.”

“That’s one thing I won’t be having her build for me,” I said more brusquely than I should.

“I was joking, Mummy, only joking,” she said rather sheepishly.

“Okay, I’m sorry, I’m a bit tired.” I left her to finish her dinner and went to check on Phoebe. I found her sitting on the chair by her bed, staring out the window into the darkness.

“How d’you feel?” I asked, stepping just inside her door.

She twisted round to look at me, and her face was stained with tears, “Why do people have to get cancer?” she looked bewildered.

“I don’t know,” I said, shrugging and stepping towards her.

“She was a good person. Why did it have to happen?” she asked as she collapsed into a fit of sobbing into my arms.

I held her and tried to comfort her while she cried herself out. I had no answers, none that would give her any comfort. I could have told her about the various biomedical theories as I understood them, but that wasn’t what she wanted to know. It was a philosopher or a priest she needed to discuss this with, not a rational scientist.

Why does anything happen? Take the god bit out, and if there isn’t a direct cause and effect, then it’s pure speculation. How can you suggest someone got some horrible disease like cancer from an injury or toxins ingested from childhood? We know about smoking, and passive smoking and carcinogens, but did we fifty years ago. Plus, some people are genetically unfortunate in being predisposed to certain diseases like diabetes or arthritis. I don’t think Phoebe wanted to hear any of that. She wanted to know why a god she’d always believed was benign could allow her mother to be taken from her, disrupting her developing life. I had no answers for that, at least none that would help her. All I could do was be there and hold her while she dealt with her grief and mourned for her lost parents and her previous way of life.