The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2354 by Angharad Copyright© 2014 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

Tuesday, after the fog lifted, it wasn’t too bad a day. I could have been riding except I was in work and the computers went down—everything, the wi-fi, the lot. I had invigilating to do and using my laptop, I could write some emails or other stuff but not send it—until I got home. I could also play spider solitaire though guilt stopped me doing that, so I did the Guardian crossword which was set by ‘Paul’ one of my favourite compilers. The morning was spent doing a few clues, walking up and down the rows of the condemned just in case we had another cheat. These were first years, so if they managed to get their names right we gave them a pass. There are supposedly more kids with top A level grades, so how come they can’t read and write properly? Their spelling is pathetic, their punctuation non-existent, and grammar is someone married to grampa. Bugger, I’ll have to mark some of these.

I went and did some more crossword, ‘Big Mac and fries,’ was an answer to one of the clues. Oh well I shouldn’t complain, I had got it. The morning dragged on, especially after I completed the crossword, and the quick crossword in G2. I did some more patrolling.

Then it was over and went off with Pippa to get some lunch at the refectory. We chatted over our rolls and when I grumbled about the wi-fi being down, she told me they had three or four engineers there trying to trace the fault, plus a rather dishy computer guy, who was dealing with some nasty which eluded the anti-virus and malware defences.

“Pippa, I’m a happily married woman.”

“Yeah, but it doesn’t do any harm to window shop.”

“Where is he?”

“Last seen in the Prof’s office.”

I finished my lunch, swallowing down the last of the tea and grabbing chocolate biscuit for later, I accompanied Pippa down to her office. Tom was still at lunch with the dean, and Pippa popped her head in his office. The IT chap was still there.

“I’m making him a cuppa, you want one?” asked the queen of the keyboards, except she couldn’t do much with the system down.

“I expect I could force one down, I’ll be marking all afternoon.”

“I’ll call him out when it’s ready.”

“What’s his name?” I asked.

“Got a card here somewhere.” She fiddled about on her desk, “Here,” she said handing it to me before going to make the teas.

I took it and nearly fell over. ‘Dr Marc Absolom’ and his string of qualifications were listed on the front of his business card.

“You okay, Cathy?” asked Pippa bringing out a tray of teas.

“I might know him.”

“So?”

“I haven’t seen him for about sixteen or seventeen years, if it is the boy I’m thinking of.”

“Ooh, were you his first girlfriend?” she teased.

“Something like that.”

“Ooh, this could be fun.”

“Perhaps I won’t have the tea after all,” I rose to leave.

“Yes you will, now siddown and shurrup.” She handed me a mug and I sat down. “Tea’s up,” she called through the door.

“Okay,” called back. I didn’t recognise the voice but then he was a boy back then, mind you so was I, or supposedly so.

The door opened and this tall fair haired man emerged. He was good looking and it was Marc, my old friend—oh poo.

“Marc, isn’t it?” asked Pippa.

“Yep.”

“I’m Pippa and this Cathy, one of our readers.”

We shook hands in a polite way. Now what do I do—aw hell—I’m sick of hiding my past. “You look familiar,” I said and Pippa settled down to watch with a big grin on her face.

“Sorry, you have the advantage,” said Marc trying desperately to figure out who I was. “I’m sure I’d remember someone as beautiful as you.”

Why are they always so corny, men I mean.

“Did you ever live in Bristol?”

“Yeah, years ago I did,” he grew more curious and he was desperately trying to remember all the girls he knew back then. There can’t have been many.

“Did your house flood one year?”

“Yes—how did you know that—oh my god—it’s you.”

“Yeah, though it’s Cathy now. Your parents were right.”

“Bloody hell, how—I mean—Jesus—wait till I tell them I bumped into you again. Jeez, just look at you—and you’re a reader here—in what?”

“Ecology and Biology.”

“When she isn’t making films,” added Pippa.

“Films, what sort of films?”

“Did you see the dormouse film last year?”

“My god, was that you? That was brilliant.”

I blushed.

“Are you down here for long?”

“Another day, I suppose, then back to Brum.”

“Would you like to come for dinner this evening, meet my husband and family?”

“If I can get this lot to a certain stage by then, I’d love to. So you’re married?”

“She’s the wife of a lord.”

“Eh?”

“She’s Lady Cameron, married to Simon.”

“Simon Cameron as in multimillionaire banker?”

“’Fraid so.”

“I can’t believe this.”

“It must have been those wellies I borrowed from Siân—she’s a GP in Salisbury nowadays.”

“Oh the girl you used to knock about with?”

“Yeah, the one who used to loan me her uniforms.”

“That’s right, used to drive old Murray Mint mad. Didn’t he make you wear them for a month?”

“Altogether it was about three months in the last two or three years.”

“Was it, I knew half the kids fancied you and the other half wanted to beat you to a pulp. Didn’t you do a play or something?”

“Macbeth.”

“That’s right, you played Lady M, didn’t you?”

“She’s reprised it since then.”

“What?”

“I did it at my daughters’ school to raise funds for their charitable fund.”

“Wow, I can’t believe this, little Charlie Watts has turned into a beautiful woman.”

“Is it so surprising, your parents thought was a girl when I helped with the flood damage.”

“So they did—thought you were my girlfriend, which seeing as you came to lend a hand when no one else did, they liked you.”

“She still walks the extra mile, Marc.”

“I can’t get over this—you, I mean.”

I wrote down my address and post code plus phone number. “I must go, marking to do, see you at eight.”

“Yeah, Char—I mean, Cathy.”

I left him talking to Pippa hoping he’d finish what he had to do tonight and get over to the house for dinner. At the same time, I wouldn’t be surprised if he cried off—not everyone can cope with such changes to someone they knew, though I’d hoped he would after the flood clearance episode.

I went down to my office and after warning David that I’d invited someone to dinner, did two hours marking. There is only one good thing about marking—it makes invigilating seem like fun.

Next stop to collect the quartet of mousketeers and to brief them not to give Marc a hard time if he actually comes—I have some doubts—but I owe him a fish and chip meal for old times sake.