The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2687 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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“She doesn’t take criticism very kindly, does she?” observed Simon.

“She doesn’t accept criticism very much at all. Some days it really worries me, but I’m not sure how to get her to understand. At times, she almost feels like an alien who can’t be bothered with humans because we’re too stupid and emotional.”

“Like Mr Spock.”

“In some ways, yet her tantrums show she has some humanity herself and on occasion she can be the most generous soul you could meet. She helped Hannah pass enough exams to go into the same class as her and Livvie.”

“She isn’t autistic, is she?”

“Si, we had that investigated and it was negative, if you remember. Then the psychologist suggested she was probably affected by the abuse in her early years and that she was very clever, and very clever folk often have difficulty integrating with lesser mortals.”

“You seem to manage it all right.”

“Ha ha, very funny.”

“You do. Anyone with a PhD can’t be stupid now, can they?”

“Depends upon your definition of stupid and it might also need qualification as to what subject the PhD was in. The difficulty with such things is that knowing lots about one thing doesn’t necessarily mean you’re very clever, just good at writing papers or doing exams.”

“I’ve seen you in action, missus, so I have some idea of what I’m saying.”

“You’ve seen me talk to supportive audiences.”

“I’ve seen you do lots of things including being a mother and a wife as well as a highly respected teacher.”

“Highly respected—yeah sure.”

“I saw the letter you had from that girl who got pregnant and you encouraged to re-sit her assignments after you got her a baby sitter. I’ve seen the other letters you’ve had as a charismatic speaker.”

“You make me sound like an old testament prophet.”

“I’ve seen you do it, hold an audience in the palm of your hand. I’ve heard Tom talk about how popular you were as a teacher because you weren’t afraid to use anything which might cause them to remember things.”

“I suspect they’ll all remember the gimmicks not the material.”

“That isn’t what Tom said, he thought you were wonderful.”

“He thinks I’m wonderful because I remind him of his first daughter, that’s all.”

“Dae ye really think I’m sae shallow, Cathy?”

I blushed bright scarlet, “I’m sorry, Daddy, I didn’t mean it like it might have sounded.”

“Ye dinnae expect me tae believe that, dae ye?”

“Ignore her, Tom, I’m just waiting for the, ‘I’m not a real woman’ bit.

“Weel I think we all ken whit we think o’ that.”

“I’m sorry, I’m going to bed.” I ran up the stairs while I could see where I was going, then sat on my bed and howled.

“Are you all right, Mummy?” asked a little voice.

I wiped my eyes and sniffed, nodding to the enquirer. “Yes, I’m fine,” I lied.

“So why are you crying?”

“I bumped my toe,” I lied.

“No you didn’t or I’d have picked up on it. So why are you cryin’?”

“I said something silly to gramps.”

“Well go an’ apologise. He loves you, so he’ll forgive you.”

“I’m not sure he will, darling, now why don’t you go back to bed before you wake the others?”

“They’re all awake, they sent me to find out what the horrible noise was, we thought it might be a hippo in labour.”

“A what?”

“You know, giving birth.”

“I know what labour is.”

“Daddy says it’s not the same since Tony Blair left. Did he have babies or something?

“No, he was a very successful prime minister.”

“Oh—never heard of him, is that like David wossisname?”

“You can’t remember the surname of the current Prime Minister?”

“No, should I?” she said smirking.

“I suppose it is one that only stupid people use.” I teased.

“Hey,” she said gently slapping my arm.

“C’mon, back to bed now.”

“Hadn’t you better go an’ apologise to Gramps before you forget. I’ll come with you if you’re scared.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever be scared of Gramps, Trish.”

“You know what I meant—not scared, exactly.”

“Embarrassed?”

“Yeah, that sort of scared.”

“C’mon, back to bed with you.” I walked her back to her bed and several little voices asked if I was okay. Sometimes it feels nice to be cared about. Blushing, I told them I was fine. I also promised I’d go straight down and apologise to Tom but not before I’d washed my face in cold water.

“I’m sorry I said what I did.” I felt like a naughty schoolgirl standing before the headmaster. “I didn’t mean it.”

“Aye, sae why did ye say it?”

“I don’t know—I think I just felt worthless and...”

“Worthless, hoo could ye feel worthless, ye’re one o thae most loved people on this planet. Yer husband loves ye, sae dae yer children, a’ o’ them. Ye students love ye an’ that secretary ye hae wuld die fa’ ye. Hoo can ye be worthless?”

“I don’t know,” I said bursting into tears, but it was how I felt.

“I dinna ken whit’s caused this but let it gang, ye’re sae loved by everyone, ye’re no worthless, ye’re worth everything to me an’ a’ yer family. Even yon cat loves ye.” I felt something tickling the back of my leg and discovered Bramble was rubbing herself against me.

I stood there with tears rushing down my face and he hugged me, rubbing my back as he did while I cried on his shoulder.

“Nivver let onyone tell ye ye’re worthless, ye’re thae most valuable person I ken. Noo dry yer eyes an’ awa’ tae yer bed.”

“Yes, Daddy. Thank you.” I kissed him on the cheek.

“Go on, aff tae yer bed,” he shooed me out of his study and up the stairs.

Simon was reading in bed, “What was all that about?”

“I don’t know.”

“Sometimes you worry me, Cathy.”

“Why, worried you’d married a lunatic?”

“No, but you do incline to accept too many jobs...” this coming from someone who creates half of them.

“I’m tired, Si, I don’t want to talk,” I turned over and fell asleep almost at once.