The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2362 by Angharad Copyright© 2014 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

I took the remains of the bottle of cider and held it to Trish’s mouth. “Drink it,” I said pushing the bottle against her lips.

She pushed it away tears rolling down her face, “No, I won’t.”

“Why not?”

“It’s not right.”

“What isn’t?”

“Making me drink booze.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m a child.”

“So is Danni, and Cindy and Carly.”

“That’s different.”

“Is it? You were going to trick them into drinking cider to try and spoil their evening. I’m making you drink some to spoil your evening.”

“That’s not fair.”

“What you were doing was dreadful and spiteful—now drink.”

She refused. I didn’t actually want her to I wanted to make her think about what she’d planned to do as being despicable, so was treating her despicably—it made sense to me.

“In the old days parents were allowed to smack or beat their children, if this had happened then, I’d have given you such a hiding you wouldn’t been able to sit down for days. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, Mummy,” she sobbed.

“Right, for the rest of the weekend no computer, iPad, iPod or phone. If I catch you using one of them or going anywhere near the three teens, I’ll take them away for a month, do you understand?”

“Yes, Mummy.”

“That was one of the meanest, nastiest tricks I’ve ever seen anyone try to play on another, especially a sister. How could you?”

“I’m sorry, Mummy.”

“Get out of my sight.”

Being tough with her made me feel ill, but she had to understand I was very very cross and disappointed in her. I managed to find Livvie and she got a similar dressing down. She was equally contrite and accepted her punishment. I knew they’d be moping round like two lost souls tomorrow but they have to learn you don’t spike anyone’s drink, especially your sister’s. Apart from the stupidity of the act it could prove very dangerous. I was steaming when I thought about it. I told Livvie that I’d been very disappointed in her because I thought she had more sense than to follow Trish’s stupid idea, and that I thought she loved Danni as her sister not despised her.

She really got upset and told me that she didn’t think. I imposed the same ban on electronic toys and sent her off to her room. She ran away crying noisily.

I now felt like a total monster. I don’t think I could have felt worse if I had beaten them—okay, I would have done but I felt pretty abject. Si found me sitting in my study staring out of the window.

“I heard what happened.”

“I had to punish them.”

“I agree.”

“I hate myself for doing so.”

“Don’t.”

“That’s easier said than done.”

“Yeah, so what?”

“Please don’t shout at me, Si, I’ve had a very hard week.”

“I’m not shouting,” he said extremely loudly. I’ve had a hard week too.”

He hugged me and I promptly burst into tears. “Look, Babes, they had to learn what they tried to do was wrong, very wrong.”

“I wanted them to realise it was wrong for a long time.”

“I suspect you might have achieved that aim.

“I haven’t been too strict, have I?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course, I’d have probably grounded them for life.”

“Life sentences don’t seem to mean very much these days. That bloke who escaped while having a day out from an open prison has been sentenced to life again and told he must serve at least ten years for robbing a building society while at large.”

“Serve him right.”

“But how could he have been allowed the day out, he was serving a sentence of thirteen life sentences already?”

“I see your point. I suppose it just gets too expensive to keep them locked up.”

“But he was a violent man, whose soubriquet was, the skull cracker.”

“The law is a ass.”

“I think that’s been done already, Si.”

“Damn, I’ve been plagiarised in advance again.”

“It was Dickens—he who was born here two hundred years ago.”

“Oh yeah, Pompey’s only famous son.”

“I suspect there might have been one or two others as well, Si.”

“Nowhere near as famous.”

“True.”

“So now we have HMS Victory, the Mary Rose, ’Arry Redknap and Boz; oh, and the alleged angel of Portsmouth.”

I blushed, “Don’t be silly.”

“I’m not, I’ve met her and she’s a cracker...”

“Crackers, you mean.”

“Cathy, one day I’ll say something nice about you and you’ll accept it as a compliment and enjoy it.”

“Sorry, I was brought up not to believe compliments or at least not to listen or believe them as they might make me conceited.”

“If half the women in this world were half as beautiful and gracious as you, they’d have grounds for being conceited. You are wonderful—just accept it.”

“I feel embarrassed and stupid.”

“How can you ever feel stupid, you’ve got a PhD for god sakes?”

“Not being used to compliments—I feel embarrassed and confused. I wonder if someone is building me up to knock me down or softening me up, or even taking the piss.”

“I’m doing none of that. I love you, Dr Catherine Watts, with every atom of my being.”

My eyes filled with tears and my head with confusion—I didn’t know how to deal with this other than to hang onto him so tightly he couldn’t see me blush or cry. I tried to understand what was happening but it didn’t compute very far. I realised I could have blamed my parents but what would that achieve? It certainly wouldn’t have provided a solution and they did do what they thought was best. I could see my mother now telling me not to get bigheaded when I beat the captain of the rugby team in the annual cross country—an exercise in futility we all had to do—five miles of purgatory. Doubt they’d be allowed to do it today, but then they’d never be allowed to do what Murray did to me—he’d have been had up in court today.

Simon held me until I stopped sobbing. “You know, babes, I don’t think I’ll ever fully understand you. You’re a generous and courageous woman who’d do anything for her family or to help the underdog; someone who has a heart of pure eighteen carat gold and yet, as soon as I mention it you get shamefaced and embarrassed. Why can’t you just accept it as it’s meant—with love?”

“I don’t know—conditioning, I suppose,” I said still dripping a combination of tears and mucus on his shirt.

“Ugh, you disgusting woman,” he said when he saw my nose running. See, I was right all along.