(aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2249 by Angharad Copyright © 2013 Angharad
All Rights Reserved. |
I was very tired when we got to bed and slept like a log, I didn’t even wake for a wee as I usually do when I drink tea last thing. I awoke when the alarm went off and noticed I was alone–Simon had gone back to work. I heard the radio say what day it was but I wasn’t listening and it didn’t register. For two pins I could easily have switched off the radio and gone back to sleep. I was rested but not restored.
Conscience got the better of me and I crawled out of bed into the bathroom and after my ablutions and shower, crawled back into the bedroom and started untangling my hair. I only had a towel wrapped round me when Danielle came in.
“Mummy, can I like, do something today?”
“Such as?”
“Go for a walk.”
“Have you done the deed?”
“What–had a poo?”
I rolled my eyes, “No, dilated.”
“Yeah, I shoved it in last night and slept with it in all night, had three sexy dreams and am now pregnant, carrying a two pound plastic foetus.”
“Are you taking the mickey, young lady?”
“Nah, wouldn’t dream of it with my super smart, Mum.”
“I have an idea of what you could do.”
“Oh good, something nice, I hope.”
“Yes, the homework you didn’t finish before you went to see Pia.”
“Can I go and see Pia?”
“That might be difficult.”
“You won’t let me, you mean?”
“No, she’s still in custody as far as I know.”
“Wossat mean?”
“She was arrested for her assault on you.”
“What assault?”
“I’d have said that attacking someone with a scalpel and removing their gonads and most of their wedding tackle, is assault. You could have died from blood loss.”
“It wasn’t part of the plan, but I guess it was always a bit of a risk.”
“What plan?”I was horrified. Did my son actually set this up to jump the queue for surgery? I doubt it, he’s not clever enough. “You mean you planned all this?”
She blushed, “Um–not quite. He was supposed to knock me out and chop off my balls.”
“You were going to allow a total amateur castrate you?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I was.”
“Well, Danielle, you’re more stupid than I thought.”
“It worked didn’t it?”
“Only just and it could just as easily not worked.”
“But it did.”
“I hope you realise you could quite easily have lost your penis completely.”
“Isn’t that the idea?”
“It is where the bits left over can be grafted into the new arrangement, being inverted to form a vagina.”
“Well that’s what happened, I’d call that a result.”
“Only because Mr O’Rourke was in the vicinity and was able to operate almost immediately. Promise me you’ll never do anything like that again.”
“Not unless it grows back, Mummy.”
“Have you dilated?”I asked because it’s easier to do with an empty bowel.
“Yes,” she sighed and rolled her eyes.
“Are you wearing false eyelashes, young lady?”
“Who me?”she batted them at me.
“Where did you get those?”
“At the salon.”
“The hotel one?”
“Like I spend all my time finding new ones?”
“There is no need to be cheeky, young lady.”
She blushed, “I’m sorry.”
“So how did you get them from the salon–did you buy them?”
“Um–no, Auntie Stella got them for me.”
“She bought you false eyelashes?”
“And adhesive.”
“Oh don’t forget the adhesive.”
“You can’t or they won’t stick.”
“I’m well aware of that.”
“You’ve worn falsies?”
“Yes and false eyelashes.”
“Kewel or what?”
“What is?”
“My mum has worn falsies and false eyelashes.”
“It was a long time ago.”
“C’mon, Mummy, spill the beans.”
“Oh alright then. I was still in school but being increasingly humiliated by Mr Murray the headmaster.
“He didn’t like you did he?”
“The understatement of the last century.”
“Well he didn’t did he?”
“No he did not, and I reciprocated that feeling.”
“Wossat mean, recip–whatevered?”
“Returned it to him.”
“Oh.”
“It could be said that we hated each other on sight.”
“I thought you said you didn’t hate anyone?”
“I suppose I don’t really.”
“Even old Murray?”
“Even him.”
I went into a short reverie thinking about when he saw me breastfeeding Cate and almost had a stroke. I felt myself smirking, I’d not seen him except at Mr Whitehead’s funeral.”
“You telling me about you wearing false eyelashes, Mummy.”
I came back to the present with a bit of a bump. “Oh, was I?”
“Yes you were.”
“Oh yeah, it was about the time of the Lady Macbeth thing, and he made me wear a bright pink scrunchie in my long hair to embarrass me. I used to do all sorts of things as well to get my own back.”
“Like what, Mummy?”
“I grew my nails and painted them.”
“An’ you wore false eyelashes?”
“It was Siá¢n who encouraged me, so she’d help me wear mascara or eyeliner–not every day, but once or twice a week. I’d got my ears pierced so I wore ear studs–usually pretty ones.”
“An’ you wore false eyelashes as well?”
“Yeah, top and bottom ones.”
“You can get bottom ones as well?”
“You could, I don’t know if they do them now, I mean these days you can get semi permanent ones they superglue on in ones and twos.”
“They put superglue on your eyes–yuck–isn’t that like dangerous?”
“It shouldn’t be in the hands of a capable beautician.”
“Can I have permanent ones, some time?”
“Not while you’re in school, you’d look like a hooker.”
“During the school holidays–then?”
“Possibly, they cost quite a lot to do.”
“Oh, do they?”
“Yes, thirty or forty pounds and they could irritate your eyes.”
“I’d still like to try them sometime.”
“Speak to Julie, she might be able to tell you a bit more about them.”
“Oh yeah, I forget that she and Pheebs are beauticians.”
She batted her eyelashes at me before asking, “What happened when you wore them to school, the false eyelashes?”
“I got sent home to take them off and the makeup I was wearing, it was a bit over the top. I can remember Murray saying to me now, ‘Watts, if you’re going to look like a trollop I’m not sure this school is an appropriate place to continue your education. I don’t want you corrupting the juniors.’ So I went home and took it off, and painted my nails a bright pink to match my scrunchie instead.”
“Wick-ed,” she said.
“I suppose in my own way, I was a bit of a rebel.”
“A bit, Mummy, you were totally radical.” With that she ran off and I wasn’t sure if I’d been paid a compliment or an insult. I hoped it was the former, I suspected it was. When I got downstairs Danni was still talking with Julie and Phoebe.
“I agree with Mummy, you’re two young for eyelash extensions. You’ll look like a tart.”
“Well Mummy used to wear false eyelashes to school.”
“Don’t be daft, she wasn’t allowed to wear makeup in school.”
“She just told me she did. She got sent home to remove it and painted her nails instead.”
“But she went to a boy’s school.”
“So, Murray mint, the headmaster, used to try and humiliate her because she had long hair and looked like a girl.”
“Yeah, we know.”
“It’s true, ask her?”
“Yeah, later,” she left grabbing her sandwich box accompanied by Phoebe who clutched hers to her side. Danni was left looking confounded.
Comments
Still kind of disturbed by the casual way
Danni approaches being operated on by a friend and nearly killed. Will she ever get it?
but LOL at: “A bit, Mummy, you were totally radical.â€
Great Partnership.
You keep thinking and writing these chapters and I'll keep reading and loving them. Sounds like a good deal to me.
Love your work,
Joani
God forbid ...
if I'd tried to wear eye lashes when I was thirteen or fourteen. Probably have been f----d to death. But then thinking back, I don't even know if false eye-lashes existed back in those dark ages (1959/60).
Danielle's got some growing up to do and no mistake, fortunately she's surrounded by supportive siblings.
Still lovin' it Ang.
I wonder if
Danielle is playing the ditz, denying the realities of her recent past. I feel the footy-loving laddo of old would have been a bit more grounded.
Teri Ann
"Reach for the sun."