The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2664 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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That’s 222 dozen for the dodecaphiles.

“I visited the woodland reserve and Billie’s centre this afternoon,” I told Simon.

“Is it finished yet?”

“Nearly. The grand opening will be on Tuesday the fourteenth of July.”

“Does Dad know?”

“I agreed it with Henry’s secretary a month ago. We could have moved it forward a little but his diary is pretty full.”

“You know why?”

“He’s a busy boy.”

“Duh.”

“Okay, what am I missing?”

“July you said?”

“Yes, why?”

“What happens in July?”

“He has his holiday?”

“Every year.”

“Summer.”

“Cathy, you of all people should know.”

“Obviously I don’t.”

“Think sport.”

“The rugby world cup is about then, isn’t it?”

He rolled his eyes upwards while shaking his head—I didn’t know he could do two things at once. “You are either messing me about or losing the plot.”

“I suspect I lost the plot a long time ago.”

“Yeah, perhaps you’re right. We going to bed or what?”

I looked at the clock, it was nearly eleven. “Could do unless you want a drink.”

“Not bloody tea then.”

“Have what you want, I’m going to have a quick cuppa, it’ll warm me up a bit.”

He shook his head muttering something about needing a thaw. I suspect he was grumbling about the fact we hadn’t had sex for a couple of weeks, simply because I was too tired. As I made my tea he poured himself a glass of red wine.

“I thought you’d finished that,” I said pouring milk in my tea.

“I have now,” he smiled, shaking the bottle over his glass.

We sat and chatted, it seemed like months since we’d last done that on our own. Usually one or other of the girls is either around or interrupts but they were all in the lounge watching some film or other that they’d got on DVD from a client. Steel Magnolias comes to mind but I could be wrong.

“Where did you go with the others, earlier?”

“I took Cindy home, I told you.”

“No, before that.”

“We were in my study doing sewing.”

“What all of you?”

“The older girls weren’t there but Danni and Cindy, Trish and Livvie and Meems.”

“And they all enjoyed sewing?”

“They’re girls, why shouldn’t they—although some boys do, too.”

“Surprised Danielle sat still for two hours.”

“Danielle is quite capable of sitting with her sewing.”

“I’d have thought she’d want to be doing something more physical, that’s all.”

“It’s good for her to be able to relax rather than constant training all the time.”

“Yeah, I appreciate that, but being a footballer, I don’t think of her sitting with her sewing or reading a book.”

“She reads loads.”

“Yeah, that Gaby stuff—what about a proper novel.”

“There’s nothing wrong with the Gaby stories and at least they can find some parallels with them. Despite my efforts to bring them up as ordinary girls, Danni and Trish recognize they are a bit different.”

“I’ve supported you all through their time with us…”

“Yes I know, darling, and I’m really grateful for your help, as I’m sure they are.”

“So why do they feel different from the others?”

“I presume because biological females have a slightly different experience, usually have no questioning of their gender so don’t consider themselves to be different or possibly even register that there are two genders.”

“I thought you lot claim to be females from an early age?”

“I’m sure most children don’t realize that there is a difference between the genders unless they live with a sibling of the opposite one. I suspect initially much of it is about social role stuff, playing with cars or dolls which may or may not be innate. They say little boys will improvise guns if they don’t have them. But the desire to copy the role is the important thing.”

“Okay, sounds reasonable to me, presumably then transgender kids want to copy the wrong social roles—boys following their mothers instead of their dads?”

“That’s part of it, I always enjoyed helping my mum in the house, but I quite enjoyed helping Dad in the garden, too and in the garage when we fixed our bikes.”

He smiled when I mentioned bikes.

“I mean I can’t know what it feels like to have periods or pregnancy, but I know how I feel inside about such things and also about looking after the children and how grateful I am that you agreed to let me foster and then adopt the children.”

“Perhaps because it allowed me to play the role of father as we couldn’t have any of our own.”

“You should have married someone who could have given you children,” I blushed, it was one of my shortcomings and I’d forever be aware and regret it.

“I married the woman I loved and who I believed loved me and instead of bringing more children into an already overcrowded world, we gave homes and love and hope to some who might have found themselves somewhat lacking otherwise. I’m pretty satisfied with the outcome as I think they are. It’s only you who has this everlasting guilt trip that you’re not good enough because you can’t bear children and I’m sure we couldn’t have had any who were more delightful or loving than those we have now.”

“Or challenging,” I added quietly.

He smiled and said, “You wouldn’t have it any other way, would you?”

“On a bad day I might. Six of them throwing hissy fits at the same time can be a bit overwhelming at times.”

“I’m sure. Finished your tea?”

I glanced at my cup, “Yeah.”

“Good,” he swallowed the last of his wine and said, “C’mon, missus, time for bed.” I allowed him to take my hand and lead me up the stairs though that was all I was going to allow him, except after getting ready for bed his hands and gentle kisses sort of changed my mind for me.

We made love in a slow and gentle way, worshipping the other’s body with our own. It was exquisitely sensual and he kept me on simmer for what felt like hours before he lit the gas and brought me to the boil. I drifted off to sleep in the afterglow, waking an hour or so later needing a wee and finding myself all sticky and… After a little wash I slipped back into bed and tossed and turned for two hours before sleep recurred. The next morning I wasn’t entirely at my best.