The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2206 by Angharad Copyright © 2013 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

I hoped it was Saturday. Why? Well partly because Simon was still snoring his head off and the alarm was reading six fifty eight. It would go off in two minutes unless someone prevented it. I slipped out of bed and switched off the alarm, then I went to the bathroom and showered, towelling myself dry before slipping on a bra and panties. I checked he was still asleep. I dressed in my normal uniform of jeans a shirt and a sweater and took Lizzie down with me. I fed her while the kettle boiled the water I needed for a cuppa. I made said cup of tea and once again sat down with the human leach still attached by her sucker to me. There are days when I suspect she’s actually sucked my spine a few inches closer to my sternum or breast bone.

After feeding her, I bathed her and changed her. It was only when I was putting her down that I saw another human. At about seven thirty, Daddy came in with Kiki. At a glance from me, he wiped her feet before he brought her in and I made him some coffee and gave her a biscuit which she crunched all over the kitchen floor. Some days I don’t know why I bother.

“Whit fa’ are ye up sae early?”

“I thought I’d do some work on my script for the harvest mouse film.”

“Och, I thocht ye’d finished it.”

“So did I, but I’ve had some new ideas about how we present it and I need to script them before I forget and share them with Alan.”

“An’ they woke ye up, did they?”

“Yes, Daddy,” I replied making my breakfast of banana on toast, which I took off with me to my study. “If you can amuse the baby for a bit until the others get up–thanks.” I left quickly before he could say no. Not that he would, he loves kids, so it seems fate was so unkind to him to give him just one child who died so young. Then his loss was our gain. If he’d had two or three other children my life would be very different. If his Catherine had remained as a boy or hadn’t died, I wondered how my life would have been. Different doesn’t seem a big enough word, does it?

Then again, if I hadn’t been stricken by this same mania that his child had suffered, it would have been different as well. I might not have had the conflict with my parents or even gone away to university to avoid them and allow me to change into the real me most evenings. I certainly wouldn’t have had the rapport here that I have, in fact I might have not even come here. If I hadn’t been so girly would I have been studying polar bears or blue whales or even chopping up fruit flies rather than the cutest creature on the planet, except maybe kittens–and they grow up into monsters who lay waste the local wildlife. As if to reinforce this point I spotted Bramble stalking a blackbird so I leapt up and banged on the window and the bird escaped just in time. Mind you, the look the cat gave me would have caused me to spontaneously combust had her wishes come true.

Talking of spontaneous combustion, I recalled the bit about King Tut’s body catching fire because they painted the bandages wrapped round it with linseed oil, which can catch fire in air by itself, the oxidation is so vigorous–and there’s me thinking it was just used for making putty, paint or rubbing into cricket bats to weather proof and protect them. Dunno if they do it anymore because they coat them in polyurethane or some such substance. I only know because my dad showed me how to do it when I was a kid in the mistaken belief I was a boy. Tedium didn’t describe it, whereas rubbing cream or oil into a Brooks saddle was another matter. Yeah, okay hardly something the average teenage girl does–but then I wasn’t average, was I?

“Oh, there you are?” Simon poked his head round the door.

“Yes, here I am.” I said looking up then continued tapping the keys on my laptop.

“It’s Saturday, put that away.”

“I’m busy, go and make your breakfast–oh, and more tea please.” I handed him my mug.

“What if the kids come down?”

“You’re their father, cope.”

“Gee thanks, some support you are.”

“You want support get a jockstrap or a bra.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Granted, now go and make that tea.”

“What?”

“Darling you heard me, now go and do it. Well, go on.”

He gave me a funny look, which I only saw reflected in my computer screen, before he left and I hoped made my tea. It would do him good to have contact with the children–he doesn’t do enough with them. That’s how I justified leaving him in the lurch except I was chuckling too much to concentrate on my script.

I reread the email I had about harvest mouse behaviour and the comment on the bottom about the worry that if we had a bad winter there’d be even fewer next year. I supposed the same was true of dormice, it hadn’t been a good year for them with several bad winters and poor summers. This year had been better once the summer got going but they were talking up a bad winter and I so hoped they were wrong. Then, compared to the Philippines, I suppose we had nothing to complain about. Two hundred mile an hour winds–doesn’t bear thinking about.

“Here,” he handed me the cup of tea.

“Thank you, darling.”

“How long are you going to be?”

“Not sure, why?”

“I can hear stirrings upstairs.

“Julie and Phoebe I expect.”

“Oh that’s okay then.”

“Unless it’s the girls. Cate will probably have woken them by now.”

“Oh bugger.”

“Go and enjoy some quality time with them.”

“What?” he sounded terrified.

“It’s hardly like you haven’t done it before is it?”

“I don’t feel confident watching the kids.”

“Why not?”

“What if they have an accident?”

“Why should they?”

“I don’t know, do I?”

“Oh, for god’s sake.” I grumpily switched off my computer and stood up then pushed past him and walked out to the kitchen.

The children were all seated at the table eating their breakfasts except Julie and Phoebe who were eating a slice of toast as they went towards the door.

What took my attention was a large bunch of flowers in the middle of the table. “D’you like your flowers, Mummy?” asked Livvie.

“Why have I got flowers?” They were lovely but I felt like I’d been set up for something.

“For being you,” said Simon putting his arms around me.

I stepped away, “It’s my birthday in a couple of weeks, they could have waited until then.”

“Aren’t you going to put them in water?”

“They’re in water. You disturbed me working. If I did that to you you’d play hell with me.”

“It’s a bit different.”

“Is it? We’re both professionals. I have to do a report for your bank, do you want me to turn up at the next meeting saying I didn’t have time because my husband kept interrupting me?”

“Of course not but...”

“But nothing. They’re lovely, but it could have waited until I finished working.”

“Aren’t you at least impressed that the children are sitting and eating their breakfasts?”

“No, they do this every morning–they’d have got yours if you asked them.”

“I can’ do right for doing wrong, can I?”

He does this to me all the time. One of these days I really will dot him one, but not today.

“Thank you for my flowers, put the kettle on Danni, looks like I’m here to stay...” Simon’s face lit up like a lamp. He’s really just a little boy but he’s got to learn I deserve some space as well.