Easy As Viagra Falls,
by Angharad
part 221.

It was dark by the time Simon came for me, I had stayed with the two little girls until the police took them off to social services. I hoped they had a father to look after them.

My car had been taken away, although I had managed to take all my stuff out of it. I was waiting where the police had dumped me, at a motorway services on the M4.

Simon hugged me and held me tight while I dissolved in tears in his arms. My Christmas had been completely spoilt, I could have been killed and my car was wrecked because some fools couldn't drive to the conditions. They keep making cars faster and faster, what we need are cars that won't go faster than their drivers can think, which means walking pace for most.

I fell asleep in the car, holding Paddington, who was my regular and uncomplaining passenger. Somehow he'd lost a wellie and that set me off crying again.

We met Tom at the hospital, where he was entertaining Stella with tall tales. She looked much better and we hoped she'd be home by new year, not that I was after her bed of course.

We decided we would postpone Christmas until Stella came home. If that was after New Year's Day, then it would be postponed until I got home. I'd have been happy to cancel it altogether, I didn't think there could have been a worse one in my short history, and then one thinks to a few years ago and the tsunami.

Tom followed us back to his house, his Landrover chugging along behind producing more pollution than a Chinese power station. Parked in the drive was a brand new Ford Fiesta. I presumed it was Stella's Christmas present from Simon. It had a big pink bow tied in the huge ribbon around it.

I saw it thought of my own little car, now destined for a breaker's yard and burst into tears again. Simon hugged me and muttered something about insurance.

"What?"

"We'll get you another with the insurance money."

"I just feel sick that some arsehole could wreck it without a thought, just because they were driving too fast. I hope they died."

"That's not very charitable, is it?"

"I don't feel charitable. Some moron has completely spoiled my Christmas and killed other people, and you expect me to be charitable. The way I feel about them, I'd switch off their life support systems."

"I don't believe I heard you say that, Cathy. You told me that you stood around with two little ones until someone in authority took them off your hands, and now you want to go around killing people.

"That accident was caused by one bad driver."

"No, Cathy, it was caused by several drivers reacting badly to the weather. One driver couldn't have caused that many to crash, it must have involved several doing stupid things."

"Even I did, staying in the car."

"If that was the case, you'd be one of the casualties, not just your car."

"Only because you told me to get out of the car."

"I have heard too many stories of people being killed while sat in vehicles on the hard shoulder. I remember some old lady telling me she went on a coach trip up to the Lake District. They went to Blackpool as one of the trips, on the way back to the hotel while driving on the M6, their coach broke down.

Eventually, a relief bus arrived and they transferred to it, except the driver, who had to wait for the break down truck. While he was waiting an Asda truck ran into the back of him. It was dark but clear. If a supposed profesional driver couldn't see a coach, probably lit up like a Christmas tree, on a clear night, what chance your little car in the rain?"

"They need governors on cars, they go too fast."

"The cars are neutral, it's the nuts behind the wheel which are a problem."

"Yes, but people can't be trusted to drive carefully, especially young men. They shouldn't be allowed to drive until they are thirty."

"How long have you been in the Taliban?"

"What?"

"You heard me, you're talking like those self righteous monsters in Afghanistan."

"Am I? Oh, sorry, but someone did nearly kill me this morning."

"Come on, it's Christmas, let's not fight." He pulled me to face him and I apologised, I felt absolutely overwrought. He hugged me and we kissed.

"I love you Simon Cameron," I said, then I kissed him again, "Merry Christmas, light of my life."

"Wow, Merry Christmas to you, the woman I adore," he kissed me, "and with whom I intend to spend the rest of my life."

"Come on you two lovebirds," called Tom, "and shut the bloody door, it's freezing in here."

"My boss has such a way with words," I said and we both laughed as we entered the house.

"We have a slight problem, I've left your present in the lounge," said Simon.

"No Simon, it can't be my present, my present is out here."

He looked at me, what are you talking about?"

"You said you'd left my present. That would actually be past tense."

"What? Are you mad?"

"Completely, apparently it's a requirement to be engaged to you."

"Absolutely," he said and laughed. "I don't get some of your jokes, too clever by half."

"Yes, I remember the first time we went out, you didn't get half of them then."

"Didn't I?" He frowned. "Are you sure?"

"Completely, ask Stella if you don't believe me."

"She'd say yes anyway."

"Thanks, that does a lot for my credibility."

"Are you two going to argue until Easter, or are you coming in having a drink and watching the telly?"

"We'll be in in a moment Tom."

"Are you going to clear up this mess, or are you going to give it to her now?"

"She can see it now, but she has to wait until Stella comes home to play with it."

My stomach churned, I hoped it wasn't a computer, much as I could probably do with another, I wanted to buy my own.

"Close your eyes and keep them closed," said Simon, taking my hand. He walked me a few paces, then said, "Okay, you can open them now."

I looked around, there before me was a complete bike repair centre, two stands, a full tool kit, a wheel building and truing set, everything you could think of, all made by Park Tools. Hundreds of pounds worth.

"Simon, I can't accept all this," my eyes filling with tears.

"You'd better had, because I've lost the receipt."

"It's too much Simon, you spoil me."

"I got it cheap, special deal, looks more than it is."

"Simon, don't tell such fibs."

"Don't you like it?"

"I love it, it's absolutely wonderful."

"So where's the problem?"

"The pair of socks I got you is going to look so inadequate in comparison." I looked very sad, and Tom snorted red wine all over himself. He knew about the pen.

Simon looked suspiciously at him, then at me. "The thing I need most in the world right now, is a new pair of socks."

"Well they are candy pink." I was lying, they were actually plain black except for the word, 'Pringle' embroidered on them, and the pen set shoved down inside them.

"My favourite colour," he said calling my bluff.

"Oh good," I said and smiled smugly at him. Wow, Park Tools, there'd be no end to the damage I could do dissecting bikes with this lot! I'd have to get on a course now, to learn how to take Campag's apart and put 'em back together, and also the flight deck changers for Shimano. I knew what I'd be doing once I was semi mobile from my op!