(aka Bike) Part 1202 by Angharad Copyright © 2010 Angharad
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“Girls, where did Grampa Henry go?” I’d been so worried about Simon that I’d forgotten it was he who’d taken them to town.
“Dunno,” said Trish and she shrugged.
“What you mean, he was in that fire?”
“No, he left ages ago, we stayed with Daddy.”
“Daddy asked him to get something,” offered Livvie.
“But you don’t know what?” I asked.
“No, ‘course not,” she had her hands clasped in front of her and she was twisting her body from side to side in real, little girl mode. She was also blushing, so I knew she wasn’t telling me everything.
“But you think Grampa is safe?”
They all nodded.
As we walked away from the area, I managed to find my bicycle–I was surprised that no one had taken it, or even the lights or the computer.
“How are we going to get home, Mummy–we can’t all sit on your crossbar?” It’s a ladies bike so has a sloping bar and even carrying one might have proved difficult. Just then a taxi dropped off a customer, and I managed to stop him. By taking off my front wheel, the bike went in the boot and we all rode home together.
It was during this ride that my mobile rang and Henry spoke to me. “What the hell happened? I turn my back for two seconds and that idiot son of mine burns the office block down.”
“Your idiot son is still missing,” I said tersely.
“Oh, are the girls alright?”
“Yes, I’ve managed to round them up, I’m taking them home at the moment.”
“Don’t they know what happened to Simon?” his tone was much more conciliatory this time.
“He apparently stayed behind to help injured people into the helicopter–no one’s seen him since.”
“Silly bugger didn’t forget to hitch a ride himself did he?”
“Henry, this is my husband we’re talking about who at this moment is the equivalent of MIA. I’d be grateful if you showed some respect for him and some feelings for me and the girls.”
“With all due respect, Cathy, I’ve known him longer than you have and I know what a twit he is. When he flew out to join us one year on holiday, because he had to attend some pop concert instead of coming out with us, the idiot got on the wrong blessed plane–took the British consul and his staff two ruddy days to find him. Instead of Menorca, the idiot had got on a plane to Morocco.”
“I don’t think he had much choice of helicopters today.”
“Perhaps he’s at the airbase or a hospital–probably one in Nova Scotia, knowing him.”
“By helicopter?” I asked angrily.
“Okay, Haverford bloody West, then.”
“I’m going now, Henry, in case my idiot husband should be trying to contact me.”
“What one knock for yes and two for no?”
“Henry, that is cruel.”
“Okay, I’m off to the hotel if you want me. When he turns up, tell him to give me a ring.”
“Don’t you mean if he turns up?”
“He’ll turn up, believe me. Bye.”
I was really cross with his insensitivity, I could be a widow as we speak, and he’s joking about it.
“Was that Gwamps, Mummy?”
“Yes, Meems.”
“Did he get the...”
The question was never finished as three other girls shouted at her, “Hush.” Consequently she burst into tears and then Livvie who was next to her had to give her a hug to shut her up.
“Are they all yours?” asked the Cabbie.
“Yes, plus two more at home.”
“Bloody Catholics,” he muttered under his breath.
“We’re not, actually. We’re from the Church of St Mammon and St Croesus.”
“Where’s that then, I thought I knew all the Portsmouth and Southsea churches?”
“It just burnt down.”
He pulled into the drive and we exited the vehicle, “But that was a bank, wasn’t it?”
“Spot on,” I paid him, but the tip was only half of what it would have been had he been less prejudiced.
Once in doors, I sent the children up to shower and went with them, they smelt of smoke and other things. Once dried, they came down for a supper and a big hug. It was while we were doing this my mobile rang, this time it was Simon.
“Hi, Babes.”
“Where are you? I’ve been out of mind with worry about you?”
“Yeah, sorry about that, I’m at Southampton.”
“Don’t tell me, you got the wrong helicopter, Henry said you would.”
“Oh did he? He’s never going to let me forget that is he?”
“I neither know nor care, I’m just so pleased to hear you’re okay.”
“I’m fine, my suit is wrecked, look, the chopper crew are going to bring me back to Pompey, I’ll get a cab from there back to the car park and pick up my car.”
“I don’t think so, there was a very large bang, so your car might be under a heap of rubble now.”
“Okay, I’ll get a cab home then.”
“Do you want someone to collect you from the naval station?”
“No, dunno how long this is going to take, I’ll get back when I can.”
“Be careful, oh and Si?”
“Yeah?”
“Love you.”
“I love you too, Babes.”
“Oh–nearly forgot–will you call Henry on his mobile, he’s staying at the hotel tonight, needs to see the damage in the morning.”
“Will do–gotta go, they’re calling my flight.”
I breathed an enormous sigh of relief. He was safe! Mind you if they find out he’s a banker they might chuck him out over the sea. What on earth was he doing at Southampton and would he have been quicker coming back on the train?
I let the kids stay up a little later that night, they were all in bed by the time Simon got home and he smelt of a combination of smoke, some sort of fuel–presumably what helicopters use, whatever that is? The final constituent was drink–he was a tad merry and very verbose. At least he doesn’t want to hit me when he’s drunk, just talk me to death–just as painful but takes longer.
“Simon, it’s nearly midnight, where have you been?”
“Well I ‘ad to buy the guys a drink, now didn’t I? One thing led to another and we ended up in the Ward Room–well the station commander came to see me, an’ he had a drink and then he bought me one–I’m a hero, d’ya know?”
What, for living with me and six kids? Is what went through my mind, but what I said was, “How would I know, Si, I haven’t seen you since this morning.”
He then went on to explain in great and rambling detail how he saved all the people from the roof, going last himself like a captain leaving a sinking ship. I pointed out that captains are supposed to go down with their ships. His answer was unprintable ‘fa a game o’ sojers’ and was probably the first time I ever heard him use a Scottishism.
Once he’d eaten he fell asleep in the chair, so I threw a blanket round him and left him to sleep it off in the chair–I went to bed and tossed and turned half the bloody night. In one event, more than half my family could have been annihilated–I was frightened more than I have ever been and we have no news of what happened or why?
Comments
Phew
Simons Safe, thats good to know. Wonder who did this to the bank
I'm very happy to see all
I'm very happy to see all the family members safe now and back in their home. Henry is the fair twit regarding Simon. He does indeed know his son, but he could have been a lot more gentle with Cathy while he spoke with her; as she did not know Simon's background regarding getting on the wrong plane. Jan
Phew!
Everyone's all present and correct, they're all accounted for and pretty much unscathed (unless you count a bit of smoke in the lungs). So now we face the three big questions:
Who did it? (It's too well thought out to be remaining members of South Bank and didn't target their usual suspects; it's also OTT for our Mafia friends, and it didn't appear to be a suicide attack or target public transport, which makes "The Base" rather unlikely.)
Why did they do it? (Probably someone with a serious grudge against High Street Bank, or more specifically Simon)
Will the insurers pay up? (Domestic policies usually exclude damage due to war or terrorism - I expect that clause probably isn't present in commercial policies but you never know...)
There are 10 kinds of people in the world - those who understand binary and those who don't...
As the right side of the brain controls the left side of the body, then only left-handers are in their right mind!
not really a cliff?
Apparently this cliff was just a bluff (old American joke)
Glad everyone is safe at this point, hope they make it through the next day
Bloody Men...
Here it is, Cathy, who thought quickly, fought with an idiot fire chief, grabbed his command radio, and redirected the helicopters to the neighboring building so they could quickly rescue everyone, and what happens? Simon gets treated as the hero for helping people onto the helicopters, and Cathy gets threatened with arrest.
Sheesh.
We'll find out soon enough.
Let's face it in today's fiscally shambolic climate just about any one of 60 million people could have a grudge with the bank; not to mention the other 7,000 million.
We'll just have to be patient and wait and see.
I can quite understand Simon getting pissed in 'The wardroom'. It's a professional risk that goes with the job if you get tangled up with the military.
Ho hum, been there, done that; it goes with the territory.
Sweet dreams Cathy.
Still lovin' it,
Love an' hugs.
OXOXOX
Beverly.
Growing old disgracefully.
Bike pt 1202
OK, everybody is safe, what about the bloody money?
May Your Light Forever Shine
May Your Light Forever Shine
All's well, fer now.
All's well, fer now, but look out below.
Did anyone else happen to see the bit on the battle with the American Gray squirrel in England? Seems somebody thought it would be cute to bring them in, and being more aggressive, they have outcompeted the native Red Squirrel until they are on the endangered category. Bonnie Prince Charles is encouraging people to kill all the gray squirrels they can, and eat them. I found it interesting, as in the States we consider gray squirrels to be so small as to not make a decent grease spot in the skillet. We prefer the Red or Fox Squirrel for size and flavor.
Guess the Grey squirrel makes up a bit for the blasted English Sparrow and the pernicious Starlings as damaging imports from Jolly Old. The Starlings like to eat the seeds of cedars and mulberries and their digestive system turns the feces to acid. I have had a car paint job ruined by a mass of those things. Can't really call them a flock, just a mass. They seem to enjoy sitting on utility lines at intersections in cities (and trees) and targeting their droppings on the cars below them. Bloody things. Not even decent eating either. And the sparrows, forget about it. Useless silly twits, laying several clutches a summer, and remarkably stupid. Keep coming back to the same places where people push their nest away, and rebuild in the same exact location. They like to sit on clothes lines and spot freshly washed clothes. Importing species and subspecies can be dangerous. Look what happened when the Native Americans didn't immediately knock off the Europeans when they landed!! .
CaroL
CaroL
Birds
Ironically, both starlings and house sparrows have been on the decline over here in recent decades - possibly partially as a result of farming practices in the last century causing hedgerows to be grubbed out, trees to be cut down, meadows to be ploughed up for crops and pesticides reducing the supply of insects. The grey squirrel is pretty much universal over here, with the smaller red being confined to a few remote locations. Perhaps the biggest avian nuisance over here is the pigeon. They're big, fat, grey, scare off other birds from feeders, readily eat abandoned junk food, and leave their nasty white deposits all over the place.
I suppose what you think of the various species depends on their population density in your local area. There are virtually no starlings where I live, and I've seen more blackbirds and blue tits than sparrows. But reading the Wiki article on the house sparrow, it's certainly a plucky little creature - having been observed feeding on the observation deck of the Empire State Building and breeding in a coal mine 640m below ground.
There are 10 kinds of people in the world - those who understand binary and those who don't...
As the right side of the brain controls the left side of the body, then only left-handers are in their right mind!
Birthday gift(s)
I wonder what gift the family have organised for Cathy. Obviously they all know, and it looks as if Henry has taken delivery.
Thanks A+B: While not exactly a happy ending, it's good to see Henry and Simon both safe.
Present Surprises
Bike Resources
Bike Resources
Funny that ,
I always thought it was the hero's who were bought the drinks.....Still this is Simon we are talking about, So maybe normal rules do not apply.
Kirri
Hey! Think about it...Merry Christmas to the Camerons!
With a younger child with gender issues who hasn't been heard from in a slew of episodes and a boy who hardly gets any attention. Add to that a kid who sacrificed herself to rapists to protect her kid sister, a savant who could probably teach me a lesson or two. Various muggings, beatings, kidnap attempts, attempted assault, attempted murder, one maybe two suicide attempts within the last twelve months, the death of two adult friends and the adoption of yet one more foundling, police who don't fucking care and security people who don't know squat, a psychiatrist that is "on call" but hardly ever talks to the children. Now add that to parents who are over worked or over committed in their jobs and outside activities plus the peril of the Russians and god only knows who ever else the family has pissed off? Oh? Did I forget to mention Cathy nearly run down by a mad woman and the Simon and a host of favorites nearly being consumed in a fire?
I wouldn't exactly say it was "alls well for now," but I guess like the pilots say, any landing you can walk away from is a good landing. This should make for a friggin' great holiday family letter. "Guess What We Did This Year? Love from Cathy, Simon and the (ever-increasing) Kiddies!"
Great to see the whole family
alive and all right but that last sentence lets us know how much stress Cathy is feeling.
It would be refreshing
if this were not related to Cathy's problems. What are the odds though, slim to none?
Sober Simon, I think not!
While Cathy is home with the children, worried half to death, Simon is hoisting a few with the Jack Tars and having a wonderful time.
Typical man ! Then comes home to beat his chest.
Karen