Wuthering Dormice (aka Bike) Part 747 by Angharad

The next morning, after getting the girls ready and giving them breakfast, I called Dr Thomas’s secretary. She was on holiday until next week and her appointments were full for a week or so after that. I left a message asking the secretary to say that I had rung and left my mobile number, and asked if there was a cancellation to let me know. I wasn’t too hopeful.

Then I called Marguerite, she was busy and would call me back. Sometimes I wonder if the world is trying to tell me something. I went and drank some tea and made some toast – I wasn’t very hungry.

I had barely finished swallowing the charred bread when the ’phone rang. I dashed out to it – it was someone called Chas trying to sell me life insurance, they had a special offer … I slammed down the phone. These cold callers were a real pain. The next one, I would tell in no uncertain terms – to go forth and multiply – or old English words to that effect.

The ’phone rang again as I put it back on the charger – “Cathy, you asked me to call you back.”

I explained what I wanted or felt I needed, and she invited me to go that afternoon to see her. She offered to have the older girls again, but I passed on that, I would ask Stella, and if necessary, bribe her or the girls to free myself for the two hours I deemed necessary to drive there and back and an hour to speak with Marguerite.

Stella was okay about watching them, but we’d be shopping tomorrow – I could live with that – and the girls would if they were promised something tomorrow. I feel I’m probably making a rod for my own back here, but maybe we could arrange it so they got stuff for school or nursery. Mima was going to nursery school as soon as we got home. I decided I needed an hour or two to myself at least a couple of times a week, preferably before I went to bed. I also felt it was useful for Meems to get to know more children. She seemed okay about it, so I was going to action it when we got home or as soon as possible afterwards.

After lunch, I set off to see Marguerite. Did I tell you her church was dedicated to Mary Magdalene? Maybe she specialised in fallen women, in which case I may be in luck.

“You’ve been feeling anxious about getting married?”

“Yes, it’s all wrapped up in issues of self-worth and my status.”

“I thought that was female now you’ve had surgery, isn’t it?”

“It is – legally too; I’ve done the Gender panel thing and been approved and my birth certificate has been changed.”

“So why do you have a problem?”

“I don’t know.”

“Have you gone off the idea of marriage?”

“Maybe, but only in the short term. I still want to marry Simon at some point.”

“Why? If it isn’t a short-term goal, why bother at all? What’s the advantage?”

“Not feeling deceitful when people call me Lady Cameron.”

“Is that all?”

“No, it would improve the chances of adopting my foster children.”

“Would it? A single people can adopt, I don’t see any advantage, besides you had a tame judge allocate the children to you, didn’t you?”

“Yes, but I’m aware another could overturn it.”

“Why would they?”

“Some people in social services are out to get me.”

“Is that true or paranoia?”

“Either or both, I upset them when the judge found in my favour.”

“You did or the judge did?”

“They seem to think I bought him off, which I didn’t, he was a man of integrity.”

“Isn’t attempted bribery of a judge a serious offence?”

“I should think so, or at least hope so.”

“Me too. So what advantage is there in being married?”

“It’s a demonstration of commitment to each other.” I was floundering a little, I mean, I thought priests were supposed to encourage marriage.

“That’s about the best reason you’ve given me so far.”

“I mean, I love him, what more do you need?”

“Nothing, that’s grounds enough, but remember marriage is an institution – you have to be mad to enter into it.”

“You may be right there, Marguerite. Maybe I’m crazy.”

“If you are, it’s most other people who are sane and that is even more frightening.”

“Can I withdraw that statement on the grounds that I agree with yours wholeheartedly?”

“I believe sanity is a continuum, we’re all on moveable parts of it, sometimes we’re okay, sometimes we’re crazy. Why, sometimes I’ve believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast.”

“That sounds like Alice in Wonderland.“ I wasn’t sure but thought I must be close.

“Through The Looking Glass, actually.”

“I thought it sounded like Lewis Carroll.”

“Yes, quite distinctive in style. So what are you going to do?”

“About what?”

“Getting married.”

“Oh that–I don’t know.” I blushed; it was true I could think of nothing which made me want to dash into church with Simon and do the deed. At the same time, I couldn’t think of anything which made me not want to do it, either. It felt like an impasse.

“My rule of thumb, Cathy, is when in doubt, don’t.”

“Yeah, a very useful one – but I know as soon as I leave here, I’ll wish I’d asked you for dates.”

“I didn’t think I was your type, Cathy, but it’s very flattering all the same.”

What was she on about? I looked as I felt, completely baffled.

“You said you wished you’d asked me for dates”

“I don’t like dates or figs.” I knew that was off on the wrong tangent but felt it was as valid as her joke.

“That’s a pity, so you don’t give a fig?”

“Marguerite, can we bring this back down to the mundane and sane levels from which it seems to have escaped?”

“Please do.”

“When is the best time next year to get married?”

“When you’re both sure about it and we’re all mutually free to do the deed.”

“The year after then?” I said winking at her. She sat po-faced for a moment before poking out her tongue at me and we both fell about laughing.