The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2616 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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Part 218 dozen for the dodecaphiles.

It was during breakfast that Tatiana rang. “He’s mad at you, you burnt his, how you say, his googlies.”

“I think you mean goolies,” I replied and Henry’s eyebrows nearly rose up into his hairline.

“It serve him right, he had no reason to hit me—I was doing what needed to save my child.”

“How is she?”

“She feel a little better. I believe you can cure her, doctor still say it too much TV. He’s a fool.”

“Are you going to be able to bring her out to meet me?”

“I gonna try.”

“Come to the British Museum, there are lots of people there so your people won’t be able to start anything there. I’ll need half or maybe a whole hour.”

“I come with Nikola, what time?”

“How about ten thirty?”

“I be there. Cathy, I trust you, so no disappoint me, will you?”

“I trust you as well, Tatiana. We’re two mothers trying to make sense of a senseless world and bring our children up to be the best people they can be.”

“Ten thirty.”

“I shall be there.” I clicked off my phone.

“You are not going anywhere without a minder.” The way Henry said this meant he would brook no argument. It rankled.

“I’m a big girl now, Henry: I tend to make my own decisions.”

“I respect that, Cathy, but you are part of my family and I protect my family.”

“Can I come, Mummy? You might need my help.” I’d almost forgotten Trish was there she was so quiet.

“Aren’t you going to help the bank today, sweetheart?”

“I left instructions yesterday,” she said without the slightest self conscious undertone. Henry nearly choked on his coffee and I had to smile.

“So they know what to do?”

“I jolly well hope so,” she said frowning and nodding her head with each word to give it emphasis. “Otherwise, I’ll get Gramps to kick their friggin’ arses—eh, Gramps?”

Henry couldn’t answer; this time he was choking on his coffee.

“Less of that sort of language, young lady, if you please.”

“You were on about goolies earlier,” she said back.

“I’m an adult, you’re not. If we’re going to the museum you’d better wear trousers.”

“Okay,” she said and scampered off to change.

“Is it wise to involve Trish in this sort of risk?”

“I thought you said I’d have a minder.”

“Jim is on his way,” he looked at his watch, “should arrive anytime now.”

“At least he can be discreet.” I mused out loud, “Okay, I’ll let him come with us.”

Henry shook his head, “One of these days, Catherine Cameron, your headstrong independent streak is going to get you into all sorts of bother.”

“I thought that was what you liked about me?”

“I’ll get the limo to come back for you, be ready at half nine.”

“I could get used to this being driven everywhere by limousine.”

“If you do, get your husband to pay for it—I pay him enough to afford it.”

“I’m just going to call him, I’ll tell him you send your love.”

“Yes, remind him his desk is vacant and to get his bum back behind it asap.”

“Like I said, I’ll give him your love.” Before he could say anything I slipped upstairs and finished dressing. The sun had been shining for a couple of days but the wind was still quite keen. I’d tried sitting in Henry’s huge conservatory, which they call the orangery because they actually have two trees there in the room, but it was too warm in the sunshine.

I spoke with Simon and told him I was taking Trish to the British Museum. “If they want her as a specimen make sure you get a receipt,” he responded. I ignored his remark.

I finished my makeup and pulled my hair into a ponytail, if anything untoward happened, I needed to be able to move quickly to protect Trish and myself. James arrived and after he’d had a coffee and bacon sandwich the limo returned and we set off for the museum.

“What are you going there for?” James asked.

“To meet with someone.”

“Ooh, not a liaison dangerous?”

“Alas yes but not for the reasons you’re thinking about.”

“Madam, you cut me to the quick, as if I would be thinking such things.”

“Are you really gay, James?” asked Trish with contrived innocence.

He blushed. “Why d’you want to know?”

“’Cos you’re a good looking man and Auntie Stella could do with a good seeing to; or so Daddy said.”

I’d never seen James totally lost for words before and blushing like a heat lamp he spluttered before I intervened and changed the subject. “You are to stay close to me or James the whole time we’re out, do you understand?”

“Duh—I’m not a little kid, Mummy, I’m ten years old.”

“Yeah, well I’d like to see you make eleven.”

“With you protecting me I should be...oh, Allie was with you, wasn’t she?”

“Meaning?”

“You didn’t protect her very well, did you?”

Now I was blushing and close to tears.

“I think you need to apologise to your mum,” said James quietly.

“Well it’s true isn’t it?”

“Not quite,” said James. “Allie was engaged to protect your mother not the other way round.”

“Yeah, but she was killed and Mummy escaped with a couple of bruises.”

“We tried to look after each other, darling, Allie was unfortunate insofar as two men attacked her and only one went for me.”

“Did you knee him in the goolies, Mummy?”

“No, sweetheart, I kicked him.”

“Even better.”

“D’you mind?” asked James, “but I feel quite vulnerable with you two on about creaming people’s gonads.”

“Creamed gonads—yuck,” was Trish’s take on the situation. “Uh, Mummy, what are gonads?”

“The part of your sex organs that produce eggs or sperm.”

“Do I have any?”

“I’m afraid not, sweetheart.”

“That’s okay, at least no one can cream them now.”

“This is true,” I admitted.

“All you women think about is sex, isn’t it?”

“When we’re not shopping, you mean?” I fired back.

“I thought that was the ideal foreplay for a woman.”

“You know, I think you’re right.”

Moments later we pulled up outside the large building which is the British Museum and which has one of the greatest collections in the world including the controversial Elgin Marbles, which Greece would like back. As Elgin bought them, I’m not sure I’d agree with them but then I’m not Greek.

Inside the museum we strolled around looking at classical statues. "These men have no nadgers, Mummy, are they you-nots?"