The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2444 by Angharad Copyright© 2014 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

“D’you think they’ll find out who we are?” I asked Si as we went to sleep in our own bed, my face was burning despite some arnica cream I used.

“Who’s they?”

“The press.”

“If they do Jason will have a field day closing it down, writs will be flying faster than Concorde.”

“Concorde?”

“Yeah, you know, the supersonic airliner.”

“I know what you mean, it’s just I was surprised at your use of it.”

“I’ve flown in it.”

“When?”

“About fifteen years ago. Dad took me to the States in it.”

“Did Stella go as well?”

“No, she was doing something girly like a gymkhana.”

“I think you got the better deal.”

“So do I, but she had ambitions of riding for GB in the Olympics or something.”

“She’s a good equestrian, then?”

“She was, don’t think her arse has sat on a horse for ten years or more.”

“D’you need to be so crude, darling?”

“I’m an aristocrat, we’re all vulgar.”

“So I heard.”

“From where?”

“Don’t you mean who?”

“Didn’t think you’d name names.”

“It was Stella, I think.”

“There’s a surprise.”

“Why d’you say that?”

“Because it’s the sort of thing Stella would say being a total hypocrite.”

“Is she?” I was and wasn’t surprised by this.

“Yeah, she can tell the plebs to naff orff, just as well as Princess Anne.”

“Isn’t that being a snob more than crude?”

“Not when she says it to all and sundry, including other aristos.”

“I suspect there probably some I’d like to say it to.”

“But you don’t, because you really are a lady, an angelic one. Anyway, my angelic aristocrat, I’m working tomorrow, so my slumber becomes somewhat pressing.” We kissed and I turned over on my side facing away from him, whereupon he cuddled into the back of me and we both fell asleep quite quickly, me with visions of Stella telling someone to naff orff.

The next morning I was surprised to see Simon still asleep in the bed with me. “I thought you had to go to work?” I said to him.

“Not until nine, I have a meeting.”

“Has Sammi gone on her own?”

“I hope not, she’s supposed to be accompanying me to the meeting.”

“It’s seven, this time tomorrow the girls all go back to school.”

“I thought Trish would have been at Oxford by now.”

“Why?” I hoped I sounded as horrified as I felt by his suggestion.

“Well she’s a genius, isn’t she?”

“I don’t know about genius, but she is a gifted child.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Um—genius?”

He rolled his eyes, “Bloody women, you’ll change the subject next.”

“Who me? No I won’t—they say it’s supposed to get quite warm today.”

“See, I told you.”

“Told me it was going to be warm?”

“No, about you changing the subject.”

“But I haven’t—it’s you who’s done that.”

“What are you on about?”

“Can’t stop, need to get showered and organise breakfast.” I shot into the bathroom partly to confuse him and partly to answer a pressing call of nature. I half expected him to follow me into the shower and might not have refused a bit of hanky-panky if he’d asked—but he didn’t. Instead I got dried and dressed and on returning to the bedroom found he was fast asleep again.

“Si, you’re going to be late,” I said to him shaking him gently.

“Yeah okay,” he said without opening his eyes.

I went to the bathroom and returned with a cool damp flannel. I’d only touched half his face when he jumped out of bed and dashed to the bathroom making all sorts of threats. I went downstairs with a soggy Lizzie, who seemed to have a teething cold. I changed her and let her clamp as best she could to my breast. Her breathing was obviously worrying her and she cried with frustration. I felt like joining her.

First down was Julie followed by Jacquie and then Sammi. Julie went up to call Phoebe who was apparently up, showered and doing her makeup. Sammi already looked like a million dollars in what looked like a Chanel suit, I have one just like—hang on... “Nice suit,” I said, it did look good on her.

“Yes, Aunty Stella said you wouldn’t mind me borrowing it for this meeting. Trying to look the aristocrat’s daughter, you know.”

Did I? Know, that is. I doubted it never having been a daughter to one. Dad was a quantity surveyor not a lord or baron or viscount or whatever. He was a professional, very good at his job and from which he made a reasonable living. So that would make me a middle class school kid not a baron’s brat or knight’s kid. There was no silver spoon in my gob, I was brought up to believe I would need to earn a living not be kept by a chinless wonder of a parent to be married off for breeding with some long lost cousin to produce inbreds. Sometimes I believed I got the better of the deal, but then I wasn’t sure I wanted to be an aristocrat’s wife in the first place, just happened that way. However, I hope Holly Barrett never finds out. She was a girl I used to squabble with in nursery because we both wanted to be a princess—or at least wear the outfit they had in the dressing up box. I wonder what she’s doing now, probably married to a chartered accountant with two point four children and a Vauxhall Insignia parked on the drive of her four bedroom, detached, new build house.

Well stick this, Holly, I got to be the princess after all. I blushed as I realised I nearly said that out loud to Sammi.

“You don’t mind, do you?” said Sammi snapping me back to the present.

“Not this time, sweetheart, and you do look lovely in it.”

“Thank you, Mummy.” We hugged and she pecked me on my cheek. “Meeting you and Daddy was the best thing ever.”

I smiled back to her, I suspected she was right but confirming it might seem a trifle smug.

“Meeting them was the best thing for all of us,” observed Julie buttering some toast before scoffing it.

“I’ll second that,” agreed Phoebe. “When my first mum died I never thought anyone could ever take her place, yet I needed someone. When I saw her at the cemetery that day we should have done that course she told me that Cathy was the right person to take over from her. I’m so glad you did, Mummy.” She hugged me and pecked me on the cheek, too.

“Okay, enough of the nostalgia, let’s get this show on the road.” I bustled about the kitchen making teas and toasts while Julie made herself and Simon coffees. He appeared as if by magic once his coffee was poured, followed by Tom coming in through the back door with Kiki.

“Och, that smells guid,” he said sniffing the aroma of coffee, so Julie poured him a cup as well.

“Did you vote?” Simon asked Tom.

“They didnae gie us exiles a vote, we’d hae voted no, unlike thon bairns he’s gi’n thae vote tae.” I took it Daddy disapproved of sixteen-year-olds being encouraged to vote in the Scottish referendum, seeing it as an easy way of increasing the yes vote. Cynical? Perhaps, but I agreed with him.