The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike) Part 1012 by Angharad Copyright © 2010 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

To sleep, perchance to dream My dreams are as nasty as Hamlet’s. I won’t repeat what happened in it save to say that I awoke feeling terrified and sweating like a hard ridden horse. It was nearly seven according to the digital clock, so I eased myself away from Simon’s arm, which had been around my waist and went to the bathroom to wee and shower–not at the same time, I hasten to add.

I came out feeling cleaner but not necessarily much more alert. I tried to remember what had spooked me in my dream, but it had gone. I roused three girls, two boys, and one teenager. They all grumbled but got out of bed when I threatened the cold wet flannel treatment.

The girls all showered one after the other and I combed and dried their hair and put them in pigtails, plaits or for Meems a ponytail. That done, they dressed themselves and came down to where I had breakfast started and lunch boxes finished. Despite my tiredness, my body seemed to be performing quite well without conscious input.

I ate a piece of toast–I know I should have more, but I don’t seem to be very hungry these days, and my throat was still a bit sore. Trish frowned at me then gave me a hug.

“C’mon, eat your breakfast,” I told her but she continued to hold on to me–the little tyke was healing my neck, because by the time she let me go, I felt a lot easier. I managed to eat a banana while she gobbled down her cereal.

I popped a scarf around my neck just in case when I took the girls to school. No one else had noticed except Trish, possibly she was more awake than the others or just more observant. I decided I wasn’t going to worry about it.

I came back via the supermarket where we’d had the scene with Julie’s parents. Thankfully they weren’t there so I shopped and left, but having thought about them I did wonder how they were.

One doesn’t have to like people to think about them, in fact soldiers probably spend as much time thinking about the enemy as they do their loved ones. Perhaps that’s why I was thinking of the Kemps. After all, this was the initial battleground. Just a bit of association based on past experience, or was it?

When I got home, lugging bags of shopping into the house, I called for help–none seemed to be forthcoming. I trudged down to the car and hauled another four bags of assorted food stuffs and cleaning products up to the kitchen.

Where was everyone? Simon’s Jag was still there, as was Stella’s Ford. Tom was working at the uni; so where were Simon, Stella and Julie? Irritated, probably from lack of sleep, I filled the kettle and switched it on, then began to put away the shopping–filling the fridge, freezer and larder. By the time I’d finished the kettle had boiled. At first, I was going to make myself a cuppa and blow the rest of them. Then I thought better of it and went looking for them.

I went through the lounge and dining room–no one there, I called and a muffled voice replied, I ran upstairs, something wasn’t right. Stella opened the door of Julie’s room inside which I could make out the shapes of two others–presumably Simon and Julie herself.

“What’s up?” I started to ask when Stella put her finger to her lips. I glanced in the room and Simon was sitting cradling Julie who was sobbing in his arms.

Stella led me into the boy’s room and shut the door. “Her father phoned while you were out.”

“What did he want? He promised he’d leave her in peace unless she initiated the contact.”

“Just shush and listen, her mother is seriously ill.”

Part of me wanted to say, “Good, it couldn’t happen to a nicer person,” but I didn’t, I simply made my impression of a goldfish.

“Julie’s mum has had a stroke.”

“Oh,” visions of my father came to my mind. “How bad is it?”

“Not good, according to her dad.”

I swallowed my bile and asked, “What do we need to do to help Julie?”

“Simon is comforting her, she obviously wants to go and see her, but her dad thinks it might make her mother worse.”

“Surely she’s not thinking of reverting, is she?”

“I don’t know, she hadn’t said that as far as I know, but who says she won’t?”

Simon had either seen me or heard me talking with Stella. “Who’s looking after Julie?” I asked him.

“She’s gone off to sleep, so I came out to give her some space.”

“What has she said?”

“She blames herself.”

“Oh here we go, 'I’m a little pervert tall and thin, why not come over and kick my head in?'”

“Cathy, get off your high horse and listen,” he growled at me; “She thinks that the falling out with her parents has caused both of them to become ill. She wonders if perhaps you went to see her mum and did some of your magic, she would be able to go and talk to her later.”

“I can only do it if the energy wants me to. If it doesn’t, or seems to imply it’s her time, nothing will happen except perhaps to make her more accepting of it. Besides, she possibly hates me more than Julie–I’m the pervert who stole and corrupted her son. I’m the devil incarnate to the power of ten.”

“Would that make you Billionzebub rather than Beelzebub?”

“Simon, go and take a running jump, will you? I’m trying to make sensible suggestions and you revert to schoolboy humour as usual. Life isn’t one big Monty Python sketch, you know?”

“Pity,” he sighed, “Okay, Crabby Cathy, what’s the plan?”

“Where is she?”

“The QA.”

“Maybe I could do this from a distance?”

“What send her healing?”

“Yes.”

“Worth a try, what do you need to do?” Simon seemed in favour–it meant he wouldn’t have to separate us, Julie’s two mums. It would also mean, she wouldn’t improve from my healing her, only to have another while trying to kill me for doing it. Oh well, life is full of little ironies.

“First I need a cuppa–I’m parched, then I need to be left alone to try and tune into her and send the light and dare I say, some love, too.”

“Go in our room and I’ll bring you up a cuppa.” Simon disappeared down the stairs. I peeped in Julie’s door. She was sleeping and Stella was sitting in the doorway of her own room, listening for Puddin’ and Julie. Sometimes she does her share, okay, not too often, but she can be an absolute brick.

Simon brought up a tray-load of teas and I took one and sipped it. Stella had one, and he took the remaining two up to Julie’s room. He tapped gently and went in. I heard him close the door behind him. I wasn’t entirely sure I wanted him sitting in there with her, but he wasn’t under my feet, and he was doing something useful.

I finished my tea, went for a comfort stop, as they say, then shut my bedroom door. Sitting cross legged on some pillows on the bed, I began to focus on Julie. I planned to use my love for her as a sort of bridge to get to the old lady. I sat and tuned into the teenager and started to move the energy about.