The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike) Part 1892 by Angharad Copyright © 2012 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

So Stella was out and so was Jacqie, perhaps I could use the time productively. I glanced out the window, it wasn’t actually raining although it was cloudy. That made my mind up for me, I ran upstairs and ten minutes later I was pulling on my cycling shoes.

I only did an hour’s ride, about twelve or thirteen miles partly because the wind was vicious and the traffic was just as nasty. Some bloke in a white van attempted to try and drive his van over the top of me. I objected volubly and we were still arguing when a police car drove past, stopped and reversed back towards us. White van man decided it was time to go so with a final expletive he jumped in his van and drove off as the police car stopped in front of me.

“Everything all right, madam?”

“Yes, officer, thank you. The bloke in the van tried to run me off the road but apart from that, I’m okay.”

“We thought he looked a bit uptight.”

“Uptight, he was homicidal.”

“In which case it was possibly just as well we came by.”

“It probably was, officer, so once again thank you.”

“Are you the dormouse woman?” he asked me.

That took me somewhat aback. “I study them, yes. How did you know?”

“My daughter has got your book and the DVD of your film–she’s potty about dormice. She wants to study them when she’s older.”

“How old is she?”

“Eleven.”

“Has she ever seen a dormouse?”

“Has she hell–they’re like hen’s teeth aren’t they?”

“They’re not easy to see, partly through destruction of habitat and partly because they’re usually nocturnal. Unfortunately, they’re hibernating at the moment and will be until May, otherwise I’d have invited you to bring her into the university to see some. Give me a shout in the spring and we could set something up.”

“That would be brilliant.”

“So give me a shout in May and we should have some awake by then. I’m Cathy Watts.”

“I thought you were married to that banker bloke?”

“I am, but I use my maiden name when talking dormice.”

“Ah, like a professional name–my doctor does that.”

“Exactly that. Better get on, I suppose, I’ve got some paperwork to do.”

“Thanks again, Ms Watts.”

“You’re welcome, thanks for coming to aid a damsel in distress.”

“From what I’ve heard, it might have been him who needed police protection.” He laughed waved and got back in his patrol car and drove off. I thought that if his daughter was really interested, I’d try and encourage her interest and I hoped he did come back to me. ‘Dormouse woman,’ indeed.

I glanced at the clock on my cycle computer and realised that either it was still on summer time or I was very late to get back. It was a bit of both and I arrived home just in time to have a shower and eat my lunch–some fresh baked bread and some brie–excellent.

I wiped down the bike, preferring to distract myself than write the paper I should have been working on. Afterwards, I collected the girls from school, they break up next week, so they’ll be like cans of pop then–freshly shaken variety. All that did was to indicate that I needed to get this proposal down on paper so I could relax and spend some time with them and Danny. Although he is now of the age where he’d rather do his own thing as long as we watch the odd football match in which he plays.

I’d managed to find him a book on the battlefields of France and a video of a series about them they showed on telly a few years ago. Hopefully that would help him get the most out of the school trip next year.

When I got to the school, the girls told me the headmistress wanted to see me. It looked ominous. It was, apparently Mima had been involved in a fight. I thought girls didn’t fight–obviously, I was wrong.

It transpired that another girl had teased her because of her speech impediments. And she’d burst into tears, which sounded much more like Mima. The girl had continued to tease her and Mima slapped her one. The girl hit her back and Mima laid her out. Given that the girl was two years older, I felt quite proud if surprised by my daughter’s self-defence.

“So, what would you like me to do?” I asked Sister Maria.

“I’m not sure, the other girl has been told to either apologise or face suspension.

“So she hasn’t apologised so far?” I’d have thought anyone in their right mind would have done so just to get off the hot seat.

“No, she’s a headstrong child and her mother is just as bad. I’m expecting ‘World War three in knickers’ to be waiting for me tomorrow.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

“I don’t think so. Violence here is so unusual, and Jemima is such a helpful young lady, it seems doubly unusual.”

“Yes, it doesn’t sound like our Meems one bit. If I get a chance to speak to her about it, I will.”

“Please do, Lady C; oh congrats on your doctorate, the girls were really proud of you.”

I blushed, “Oh, were they?”

“Oh yes, they told everyone and anyone who’d listen–their mother has a PhD and is now Doctor Dormouse.”

“Oh, wonderful.” I began to realise everything has an equal and opposite reaction, I was now experiencing the down side of being up, if that makes sense?

“Don’t be like that, they were genuinely excited for you.”

“Yeah, they’re nice kids.”

“The three of them are lovely children and very bright, they’re a delight to teach.”

“I thought challenging might be a more honest appraisal.”

“Dr Cameron...”

“No it’s Dr Watts or Lady Cameron.”

“Oh, I see, separation of roles?”

“More or less, well Doctor, Lady Cameron sounds like an instruction as well as a mouthful.”

Sister Maria chuckled, “You are so funny, I can see where your girls get it from, like mother like daughter.”

I wasn’t sure that applied to adopted children, though that would depend upon what the likeness was, genetic or cultural. If the latter, then they might well copy from me. I hope it was all good stuff not all the bad things I do–oops–do they think it’s okay to hit people because I’ve done so a few times? I’m not much of a role model, am I?

“Okay, Sister Maria, let me know if there’s anything I can do to help.” We parted and collected the girls and once in the car, asked Meems what had happened. It was pretty well as Sister Maria had described it, the girl had teased her to tears and then to retribution.

“So you got angry with her and slapped her?”

“Yes, Mummy, she kept on an’ on an’ I hit her.”

“Then she hit you back?”

“Uh huh,” she nodded her eyes looking moist.

“And you let her have it?”

“Yes, Mummy, she kept teasing me after she hit me, so I bewted her.”

“You punched her?” I was quite shocked.

“Yes, Mummy, Twish an’ Wivvie have been showin’ me what to do.”

I glanced into the back of the car and all three were blushing.

“I think we’d better have some words when we get home, don’t you?” I said to Trish and Livvie.