The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2570 by Angharad Copyright© 2015 Angharad

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This is a work of fiction any mention of real people, places or institutions is purely coincidental and does not imply that they are as suggested in the story.
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The weekend came and Stella managed to bring home some antibiotics for James whose wound appeared to become infected. He developed quite a temperature and Stella gave him injections and tablets to take. We had no idea what he’d been doing before he was stabbed, consequently, we had even less of who he thought had tried to kill him.

I stayed home to nurse him, scrubbing the blood off the seats of his car—not the Boxster, but a silver Audi A4. If he was trying to remain inconspicuous, this wasn’t the car to use. When I went up to check on him, he was sweating profusely, so I sponged him down with cold water. His eyes opened and he glared at me, “Facebook,” he said three or four times, then slumped back into his somnolent state.

My text to Stella brought her home at lunch time and with her came the antibiotics. She left me to deal with him while she dashed back to work. We were guilty of not reporting a serious injury and treating it ourselves. Stella is licensed to prescribe such things but in a hospital environment and for genito-urinary complaints. So we were in trouble if he got any worse. I did try blue lighting him, but nothing happened.

By mid afternoon, he was cooling down a bit but still going on about Facebook. I had no idea what he was on about because I don’t use social media. The other thing was that I had no idea if he was rambling in delirium or trying to tell me he saw something. I had no idea where to start so decided to leave it to either his recovery or the return of the digital aficionados led by Samantha.

I did get him to wake enough to drink then had to deal with him using a urine bottle. Thankfully, we had one and it feels very strange carrying a bottle of warm wee to tip down the loo. He was so weak he could hardly stay awake long enough to wee that being mainly because I stood beside him telling him to concentrate or he’d be sleeping in a wet bed. When Stella got home, I hoped she’d help me change the bed.

He really was quite poorly but the antibiotics were helping and his temperature was slowly coming down. Stella came home that evening and had more antibiotics. “No wonder they weren’t too worried about the size of the wound, the blade was poisoned with bugs. I took the used dressing with me and got one of the microbiologists to run some tests. The bacterium is one found in rotting carcases, usually after they’ve been buried. He is one lucky bunny.”

Seeing my eyes open widely in surprise at the final statement, she added, “I made a guess at what to give him and hit the target first go.”

“I had every confidence in you, big sis.”

“He should have been in hospital really, but there he’d have been seen by a houseman dragged from his bed, shoved on prophylactic cover which wouldn’t have dealt with it and sometime early the next morning his kidneys would have been in trouble and we’d have been discussing what wear to a funeral.”

“It was that bad?”

“Yes and instead of getting to wear a hat, he’ll be up and bouncing around in a couple or three days.”

I nodded, saying to myself, ‘I hope you’re right, Stella.’

We changed his bed and Stella sat with him while I looked after her two girls, Jacquie having gone to get mine. It was half term next week, they’d be bouncing in like kangaroos. Danni had a letter addressed to her which I’d left on the hall table.

I was dealing with the others when she whooped and came bouncing into the kitchen. “I made the squad—I’m in the England squad against Croatia.” She was jumping up and down crying and laughing and hugging everyone. She handed me the letter. It was from the FA schools’ – girls’ division.

‘Dear Danielle,
I am pleased to tell you that you have been selected as part of the England Schools’ girls’ squad to play against Croatia at Reading on Friday 27th February 2015. You are not guaranteed to play but you have been chosen as part of the squad, from which the final team will be selected. Please attend for light training and briefing on Thursday 26th February 2015 for 12.00pm.

Congratulations on becoming part of the squad.

Yours sincerely,

Christian Hoyes
Chief Selector.’

At last something to celebrate. Even though I had to talk her down a little pointing out she wasn’t Portsmouth Ladies answer to Ronaldo, nor could she be certain to play, but she’d done really well to get this far and I felt it was only a matter of time before she would play and quite possibly get a full cap one day as well.

The girls were almost as excited as she was, so it was absolute bedlam when Simon and Sammi arrived home. They were pleased too, so were Julie and Phoebe and Daddy asked ‘aboot’ tickets. Inside the envelope were instructions to order them online and they’d send them back by return.

Jacquie was pleased for her and with Stella said they’d stay home with the little ones if the rest of us wanted to go. I thanked her and gave her the weekend off, but she declined on the grounds that the others would have Valentine’s dances or dinners to go to, so she’d stay and babysit for me as she was sure Simon would want to take me out to dinner. If he did, he’d kept it mighty quiet.

Even David wanted to come to the football match never having seen any sort of international before. He’d made James some drinkable chicken soup and between us, Stella and I managed to get our patient to drink some before he zonked again.

Julie agreed to help with the night nursing, we decided we’d do two hours each after midnight, as usually someone was up and about soon after six. As she’d be working the next day, I suggested we leave her out but she insisted she wanted to help—she’d quite taken to James even though he was ten years or more older than her. I also noticed Stella looking quite proprietorial about him and wondered. She knows he’s supposed to be gay, does she also know he allegedly fancied me first? History repeating itself? Goodness I hope not.