Wuthering Dormice (aka Bike) Part 752 by Angharad

I discussed my dream with no one, though I made some notes about it while I could remember it. The white robe was one I had an argument with Simon about. He jokingly told me that he’d taken it from a hotel, it had the hotel name on the pocket. What he failed to tell me was that his family owned said hotel. I was naively annoyed by his blatant dishonesty, always trying to tell the truth and act honestly and with respect to other people’s property. I was still insisting it was how we brought up the children – with my Sagittarian brutal honesty rather than his diplomatic variety.

The next few days flew by; Simon came home for the bank holiday and we spent a nice weekend as a family. It was amazing how different it was when he was there. The girls flirted with him outrageously, even Trish had more idea of it than I did – but it was so nice to see the father- daughter relationship developing with all three of them.

“I take it you won’t want to get married before the Olympics?”

“Olympics? You’ve lost me,” I confessed to his cryptic statement.

“Yes, in case you decide to compete.”

This had to be a wind-up but I was committed to finding out. “Compete? In what?”

“The cycling? The 800 metres.”

“I didn’t think I was allowed to?”

“Oh yeah, two years after your op and hormones.”

“Why the 800 metres?”

“Well that’s the one with all the controversy, isn’t it?”

“Simon, from you of all people, that’s a bit below the belt.”

He lay back in the bed and roared with laughter, “Your face.”

“What about my face?”

“It’s beautiful,” he said and kissed me.

“Am I going to be subject to these innuendoes all my life?”

“Probably, why? I fully expect to be hit with boy or man jokes, at every opportunity.”

“That’s Stella more than me.”

“You indulge in them too.”

“Just bonding with Stella – it’s a girl thing,” I was fighting back.

“Bonding with Stella, you’re practically like Siamese twins.”

“So, you jealous?”

“I don’t think so, if she’s bonding with you, she might just be leaving me or some other defenceless male alone. Did she tell you about the time at school she and a couple of other girls did a bonding ceremony?”

“No.”

“Wel,l she’d heard about the boys, cutting fingers and mixing blood, you know blood brother stuff?” I nodded that I’d heard of it, “Well she wasn’t happy with the idea of catching some awful bug like HIV from someone’s blood, so they did it with superglue.”

“Superglue?” my little mind boggled.

“Yep, superglue. It took the doctors at casualty over two hours to free them all. So I’m afraid I see female bonding as a joke.”

“I don’t, and mine with Stella is special.”

“Yeah okay, I know the big sister bit.”

“I owe her a lot, Simon; without her, I’d probably still be hiding away in a bed-sit somewhere.”

“Really? Surely, you’d have done something to sort your life out by now.”

“I don’t know, Si, she sort of catapulted me out of my indecisiveness.”

“Maybe I should get her to run you over again with regard to the wedding?”

“Very funny. I didn’t think you were that worried about how long we took.”

“Not we, paleface – you. If you recall, I did my bit by asking you.”

“I see, blame me.”

“Cathy, I proposed to you, at least twice if not three times, what more should I do?”

“What did you have in mind?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Well, more does tend to indicate that you had something in mind.”

“Like what?”

“That’s what I’m asking.”

“I don’t follow you.”

“You’re supposed to be the man, I’m supposed to follow you.”

“Stop using semantics, they lead to circular arguments.”

“Okay, I’ll just let us go round and round then, like usual.”

“Very funny.”

“Nah, just moderately so.”

“Can’t we just have sex and stop all this talking?”

“Oh okay.” So we did.

Afterwards he said, “I nearly got a special licence, yesterday.”

“For what?” I was lying there in a post orgasmic blissful haze.

“Marriage, what else?”

“Why, who were you going to marry?”

“Tom.”

“Yeah that would be special. Ouch,” he slapped me across my bum.

“I thought we could slip off to a register office, somewhere.”

“What you and Tom? Bit bizarre, innit?”

“No, you silly cow, you and me.”

“Dunno, I’m busy this weekend, gotta wash my hair.” He sat up and frowned at me, which made me giggle and then having been ravaged down below, I had to run to the loo. Goodness, I was sore.

Anyway, the weekend went and Simon dashed back up to London and his job. To hear him talk, you’d think that he and Gordon had saved the world between them, of course, Simon had the major part in the enterprise but he let Gordon take all the kudos, so if it went wrong, he, Simon, was in the clear. Talk about cynicism.

It was Tuesday morning and I was sitting waiting outside Dr Thomas’ office with my notes from my dream and a few others I’d scribbled over the weeks. The door cracked open and out walked the previous patient, I was next – oh shit.