The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2811 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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Another day, another argument. This time the subject was the teddy bear that was on the table, a soft toy thing about six inches tall standing up, which could prove difficult for the average soft toy. Normally it’s Trish and Livvie who squabble, this time it was Cate and Pudding. I banged the table and shouted, they both fled and then two minutes later Stella came in accusing me of threatening her child.

“It was no threat, I promised her and Cate if they didn’t stop squabbling I’d throw the soft toy in the fire.”

“You big bully.”

“You taught me all I know.”

“Not about dormice I didn’t.”

“Okay, you taught a bit of what I know—satisfied?”

“No, I’m sure I taught you more than just a bit.”

“Tough, the negotiations are over and I’m going to send both the squabblers to the dogs home.”

“What about the teddy bear?”

“It’s on the fire,” it was a lie, it was in the drawer.

“The fire isn’t lit, Cathy.”

“I’m going to take it and sacrifice it over a Bunsen burner in the technician’s room.”

“Why?”

“To stop them fighting over it.”

“It’s Pud’s, you knitted it for her, remember?”

“Did I? God, you must have caught me in a good mood to knit something.”

“Unlike this morning.”

“I was fine until your hooligan offspring raised her annoying voice and threatened to deck Cate.”

“Because Cate had her teddy, made for her by her wonderful Auntie Cathy.”

“Flattery won’t get you anywhere,” unless you lay it on with a shovel.

“Okay, I’ll tell her you’ll knit her a new one.”

“Sorry, but I shall never knit another teddy as long as I live.”

“Oh, why not?”

“Lost the plot, no the pattern, that’s right I lost the pattern.”

“Think you were right the first time.”

“It’s those two hooligans of yours, drive me mad they do.”

“Not the voices, then?”

“Yes the voices of those two hooligans.”

“You have two seconds, Catherine Cameron, nee Watts, to produce the teddy bear or I shall get a search warrant.”

“Don’t write it in crayon this time then.”

“Well I couldn’t find a pen, could I?”

“Okay, I give up, where’s the teddy?” I said.

“What teddy?” asked Stella. “Hang on, you’re the one who took the teddy.”

“Did you see me take it?”

“Of course not, I was upstairs.”

“So we only have your daughter’s word that there ever was a teddy?”

“Yes, but she’s not given to lying.”

“Do you have evidence to back up this claim.”

“Which one—the lying or the teddy bear?”

“There is no teddy bear, never has been one, she’s mistaken.”

“She says not.”

“There we are then, she denied having a teddy and you come here stirring up trouble. You Camerons are all the same...”

“You’re a Cameron too, Cathy.”

“Some of you Camerons...” I restarted.

As I was talking Trish went to the drawer and got the teddy and handed it to Stella. “Here, take the friggin’ bear, we’re gonna be late for school because of it.”

Stella and I looked at each other in astonishment and she had to leave the kitchen because she was needing to laugh so much, tears were running down her face.

“C’mon, Mummy, we’re going to be late.”

“It’s only quarter to eight.”

“So? We don’t wanna be late do we?”

“I’m having some breakfast first, so sit down and behave.”

“Well hurry up then.”

“Anymore cheek from you, Missy, and I’ll make you walk.”

“Good,” she said, “Where’s my coat?” Trish disappeared to the utility room where the coats were usually kept. “Bye,” she called and the backdoor slammed.

“Want me to go with her?” said Danielle, finishing her toast.

“Please.”

She ran out to get her coat and backpack full of books. “Gonna cost you.”

“How much?”

“New mascara.”

“All right,” what does she do with it all, mind you having seen her looking like she had two dead caterpillars, hairy variety, on her eyelids might explain it.

I got the others together about ten minutes later but we didn’t see any sign of Danni or Trish and en route no one would tell me why Trish wanted to be in school half an hour earlier than usual. I got Livvie to check she was actually there and then drove off to work where the second argument occurred.

John our technician and Diane were arguing over the slides I was going to use for my talk. I left them to it shutting my door noisily because it looked like they hadn’t seen me. She knew I was there however because there was a mug of tea with a saucer over it to keep it warm. I glanced at the clock, despite leaving early I hadn’t got here any sooner, hence my tea. She isn’t psychic, thank goodness for that.

I had an email from Dan to say he’d call by later on and I suggested we meet for lunch. He was quite pleased with that idea, especially when I said I’d pay. He can be a bit of tight wad, but otherwise is a nice chap.

He’d now completely recovered from his ordeal with the burglars, as had Simon’s hand—if you recall he hurt it when one of the thugs rubbed his face against Simon’s knuckles. He’d only been off a couple of days because he enjoys showing school kids round our reserve and doing workshops or talks with them. I did the day I stood in for him—it reminded me of the course I led at Gloucester with all the old biddies, but they had great fun or so they said.

I sorted out some bits of paper, signed some letters and looked over the slides for the talk—despite their little kerfuffle, the slides looked very good. A short time later Dan arrived and we went in my car to the same place Tom uses. I knew he wouldn’t be there today, he had to go to Winchester for some meeting or other.

We discussed the things Dan wanted to as we ate, though he was still shaking his head about the way the manager recognised me, “Lady Cameron, how nice to see you again. Usual table?”

“Please, Mr Largetto, and the usual to eat please.”

“But of course, good day, sir,” he said to Dan.

“D’you want a drink?”

“Half of lager?” said Dan.

“Which one, sir.”

“Carlsberg if you have it?”

“We do,” he fussed us to the table Tom usually has.

“Come here often, do you?”

“Tom comes here most days, occasionally I get summoned to accompany him.”

“Where is the old boy?”

“Winchester, a meeting of deans or something; I reckon it’s just a chance to have a blow out at the university’s expense.”

“I’m surprised you don’t go to more things,” he said tasting his beer.

“Too busy, I tend to do internet conferencing about once a month with four other universities, we even had Oxford trying to muscle in a month or so ago.”

“You’ve hit the big time, Cathy.”

“Who me? Nah, they probably wanted me to do their washing up.”

“Which other unis do you talk with then?”

“Sussex, Surrey, Bristol and Imperial, London.”

“Playing with the grown-ups, eh?”

“Perhaps, I think Bristol are trying to line me up to succeed Steve Harris.”

“What?”

“Unless I go to Sussex...”