The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2596 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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I roused Simon and hurriedly threw on some clothes rushing downstairs to answer the door. Given the sorts of troubles we’d had of late, I wasn’t entirely surprised to see an armed response unit parked in my drive.

Pulling on a fleece jacket I went out to meet with the police officer who seemed to be in charge. I pointed out the door I thought they’d entered. The police surrounded it and suggested Simon—he’d just joined me—and I wait indoors. I said I’d put the kettle on.

Ten minutes later a knock on the back door announced the arrival of the police with their bag—two teenage boys, who each looked about twenty. It appeared that simple burglary was their motive. I offered the police tea and toast which was accepted. Apparently one of the boys had been sick when confronted by two police waving Glocks in his face. Just what I needed, to clean up sick in my bike workshop. Then I learned it was in the drive—so sluicing it with a bucket of water would do. I suspected it was likely to be mostly booze.

Another police car arrived in the drive and the two boys were taken off. The remaining squad ate their fill of toast, slices of cheese and two pots of tea, while Simon and I chatted with them drinking our tea. By the time they left it was two in the morning and we secured the garage as best we could before going to bed about half past.

Neither of us could sleep and Simon suggested one way we could tire ourselves out. I didn’t agree so he lay there as frustrated as usual. “Why can’t we make love?” he whined.

“I don’t want to.”

“Why not—don’t you love me anymore?”

“I love you dearly but I don’t want sex at nearly three in the morning.”

“I’ll bet if I was Colin Firth, you would.”

“At this time of night—don’t be ridiculous.”

“I’m not—I know you fancy him.”

“He’s twenty years older than me,” I protested.

“So.”

“So, it would be like sleeping with Henry.”

“He wouldn’t complain.”

“No, but I might.”

“So you don’t fancy Colin Firth, then?”

“I didn’t say that,” I decided to play him at his own game.

“You do fancy him; I knew it.”

“No more than you fancy Scarlett Johansson.”

He went rather quiet for a couple of minutes. “That’s different,” he said at last.

“What is?”

“Me fancying Scarlett Johansson.”

I was just dropping off to sleep and not exactly pleased that he wanted to talk. “Oh that.” I closed my eyes and began to drift.

“Yeah, it’s different for men and women.”

“What?” I felt like hitting him.

“Sex and fancying people.”

“Go to sleep.”

“Men need visual turn ons.”

I ignored him in the hope he’d either go to sleep or spontaneously ejaculate while contemplating Miss Johansson; I didn’t care, if he shut up and left me to sleep.

“Don’t you think?” he asked me just as I was about to drop off.

“I don’t care, I just want to go to bloody sleep,” I practically screamed at him.

“That just proves my point.”

At this I got up and staggered into the girls’ bedroom and slipped in alongside Cate. I could still hear him calling me but I did eventually go to sleep waking with a head like a bucket. Getting up was purgatory—or my impression of it, but I got the girls to school before falling asleep in my office.

On waking I called Maureen to ask her to fix the door to my workshop urgently. She agreed to see to it that afternoon. For me the day didn’t improve and I fell asleep again after lunch. I nearly didn’t get to the convent in time due to the roads and people leaving work early.

Trish asked why I was late, I pointed out I wasn’t but exactly on time—somehow. Trish wanted to argue but Danni stopped her sibling telling her to shut up. A few minutes later Trish suddenly asked, “Why were you in Cate’s bed? She demanded.

“Because there wasn’t enough room in yours for both of us.”

“Did Daddy want sex again?” she fired back at me.

“Why I was there is no concern of yours.”

“I’ll bet he did and she didn’t,” was said at me. Danni sensing my irritation with Trish’s comments told her to be quiet.

“Why, because I’m right?”

“No, because you’re a stupid little girl,” riposted her elder sister.

“Ha—you can talk.”

“I think you’d better be quiet, Trish,” counselled Livvie.

“Who asked for your opinion?” demanded our haughty brain box.

“I think the same could be said for you, young lady,” I decided enough was enough.

“That’s right, let’s all get Trish day—well see if I care, just because you didn’t want sex—it’s not my fault if you’re frigid.”

I pulled the car over to the side of the road. “I am very tired because we caught two teenage boys trying to steal the bikes last night. Then your father’s snoring kept me awake, so I came and cuddled with Cate to try and get some sleep. Now if I hear one more innuendo from you, you are going to be grounded and without your electronic toys for so long, you’ll be on pension before you get them back—do you understand me?”

She looked at me and her eyes began to tear up and she said, “Yes, Mummy.” I drove on to the house where they quickly disembarked and ran into the house. I was in my study reading or trying to, when she knocked on the door and entered.

“I’m sorry, Mummy, I didn’t mean to be rude.” She was in tears and wanted to have me hug her. I declined because I felt it was appropriate to do so.

“I accept your apology but I don’t know how much you really mean it.”

“I do mean it, Mummy, honest I do.”

“The reason I’m cross with you is that any sort of intimacies between your father and me are private and not for speculation nor are they fodder for unfunny jokes or innuendo. You’re too young to understand at present but one day I hope you do. I also hope you understand how hurtful it is to hear someone you love spouting such calumnies without any consideration for my feelings or those of your sisters, despite them trying to tell you they didn’t like it.”

“It was meant as a joke, Mummy,” she sniffed.

“But it wasn’t funny it was cruel and unfunny. I felt embarrassed because you were talking about my private life and hurt because you thought it was suitable as an item for humour. I don’t know why you find my sex life of such interest but I think it might be a good idea for you to see Stephanie again.”

“Yes, Mummy. I’m sorry, Mummy, I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“You should have thought of that beforehand, shouldn’t you?”

“You’re not going to send me away, Mummy, are you?”

“Send you away? Why should I do that?”

“Because I hurt you,” she sobbed.

“No, I am not going to send you away. Now go and find your homework and sit on the sofa and do it.”

“Yes, Mummy.”