The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2329 by Angharad Copyright© 2014 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

I waited until after making the omelettes and serving them with a salad before going in search of my chocolate bunny. Trish hadn’t come down for tea and Simon ate her meal. I had called her but she declined to come. She must have known that I would eventually go to see what happened to my bunny and that some form of retribution would follow. I let her stew while we ate and then went to see.

I went into her bedroom and found her under the bedclothes, still fully dressed save for her shoes which were lying by the side of the bed. She was reading. “Why didn’t you come down to tea?”

“I didn’t want any.”

“Why not?”

“Not hungry.”

“Is that because you’re full of chocolate rabbit?”

“It might be.”

“It would serve you right if you were sick.”

“Already been sick.”

“What recently?”

“Yeah, I was in hospital, remember?”

“I’m hardly likely to forget, am I?”

“Why are you asking silly questions, then?”

“Perhaps because I care about you.”

“Not enough to share your bunny with me.”

“I thought you’d had enough chocolate for today.”

“I didn’t.”

“Obviously.”

“However, taking something you know to be someone else’s is theft.”

“So.”

“There have to be consequences.”

“Like what?”

“First of all, I’d like an apology for taking it.”

“Prove I did.”

“Trish, stop playing games, I’m tired and cross, so don’t make things worse for yourself. It disappeared at the same time you did, no one else came into the kitchen, therefore you must have taken it.”

“That isn’t proof, it’s circi-wotsit evidence.”

“Circumstantial evidence.”

“That’s what I meant.”

“It would be enough to convict in a court of law.”

“Mummy, this is my bedroom, not a court and I’m trying to read my book.”

I was speechless for a moment. “Okay, where is my bunny?”

“I have no idea.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, you had it, where did you put it?”

“Dunno.”

For five minutes I searched her room, there was no sign of the wrappers or the chocolate. I was tired and hot from poking about under beds and in drawers, it didn’t help my temper one bit. “Okay, you little imp, where did you put it?”

“I could have thrown it out of the window,” she smirked and I felt like hitting her.

“You have a minute to tell me where it is or I shall start confiscating your laptop, your iPad and phone.”

“You forgot my iPod.”

“That as well.”

“Big deal.”

“I shall take them all for a week.”

“So what.”

Before I did something I’d regret I picked up all her electronic toys and carried them down to the study and locked them in my cupboard. As I turned round to leave my eye alighted on my desk and there was my chocolate bunny, still in its wrapper. She’d obviously moved it to wind me up and presumably make some point or other which was lost on me. I put it in my desk drawer, the one with deep sides like a filing cabinet and locked it.

She knew I’d lock her stuff in my cupboard which was probably why she put the bunny there. I decided I’d go for a wind up on my own and pretended I hadn’t found it.

I was sitting in the kitchen reading the paper when she appeared. “Please may I have my stuff back.”

“Where’s my chocolate bunny?”

She sighed and went off to the study and I followed her. “It’s here—oh.” She stood before my decidedly bunnyless desk.

“So you did take it?”

“I moved it to here because you were so mean to me.”

“So why isn’t it here now?”

“How do I know? That’s where I put it.”

“If you put it there why isn’t it there now?”

“I don’t know.”

“So why should I give you your stuff back?”

“Because I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Didn’t you?”

“No, I didn’t eat your stupid rabbit.”

“But you took it, so I took your stuff.”

“That’s not fair.”

“Life isn’t, I’m afraid.”

“But you took all my stuff.”

“You invited me to.”

“But I haven’t got your stupid chocolate.”

“You said you hadn’t taken it, which was a lie. How do I know you’re not telling me more lies?”

“Because I’m not.”

“Go back and read your book and if you ask me nicely in the morning, I might give some of your stuff back assuming my rabbit turns up intact, of course.”

“But I don’t know where it is.”

“Well you’d better get to bed anyway and look for it in the morning.”

“I’m hungry.”

“Is that because you didn’t have any tea?”

“Yes, Mummy.”

“Whose fault is that?”

“I wasn’t hungry then.”

Part of me felt like sending her to bed with no food but that seemed excessive as she’d owned up and I’d found my chocolate, although she didn’t know it. I was hoping that if I could show her up to herself as doing something stupid, she might lose a bit of her high handedness—okay, so I believe in Father Christmas.

I let her have some cereal and a drink, then made her go to bed. I sent the others a short while later. It was early, but they’d had a couple of late evenings so an early one might be in order. I think the others might have grumbled at Trish because when I went up to my own bed, she was in it.

Simon carried her back to her own bed and I tucked her in, then returned her toys and put my bunny back on my desk. The morning seemed to have prospects of an interesting time.

At eight o’clock the aliens came in with their cold feet and interrupted my sleep. Thank you for giving me back my stuff, Mummy. I’m sorry I was naughty yesterday.”

“If you mess me around like that again, you’ll lose your stuff for at least a week, is that clear?”

“Yes, Mummy. Your bunny is on your desk in your study.”

“Is it?” I pretended to ask sleepily.

“Who put that there then?”

“I don’t know.”

“It wasn’t you then?”

“No, Mummy.”

“Must have been the fairies then.”

“What fairies, Mummy?”

“The ones who find lost things and return them to their rightful owners.”

“You’re pulling my leg, Mummy.”

“Well how else did it get there?”

“That’s very poor logic, Mummy.”

She was right, it was, but it didn’t stop religion from doing it for the previous two or more thousand years. “C’mon, let’s go and get some breakfast,” I suggested changing the subject.

“Can we dust your bunny for prints?”

“Certainly not, I don’t want to eat something that’s been covered in dust.”

“I wondered if we’d find fairy finger prints.”

“What would you do if you did?”

She looked me straight in the eye and said, “Send the pictures to the Sun.”

I looked at her and wondered if she was only nine or was she really some sort of dwarf or elf.