The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2861 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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I called James. “My goddess, I am yours to command.”

“One of these days your phone recognition system is going to misidentify your caller and you are going to be in trouble.”

All he could do was laugh. “If I am—I’ll deal with it.”

A certain amount of confidence is good I suppose, but he sounds confident of certainty, which I’m not sure about. I gave him the name of our vice chancellor and asked him to find anything he could. I nearly suggested the oil industry but decided to keep quiet and see just how good James is.

After speaking with him I just wanted to get home and set off to collect the children from the convent. They felt in far greater spirits than I did and it was all I could do not to nag them for all the noise they were making. Once home I changed as if to shed the despondency I felt from the university. Part of me began to wonder if any of it was worth the effort, because the chances are I would lose and I needed to understand how important the job was to me. I didn’t know anymore, part of me felt like it didn’t care.

I sat in my study and coughed, my throat felt sore and soon afterwards my head began to ache. Wonderful—I need a cold like a hole in the head. I took some paracetamol and Danielle brought me in a cup of tea. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

“Are you okay?”

“I’m not sure, I might be starting a cold.”

“Oh, is that why you were a bit strange on the way home?”

“Was I? It probably was then.”

“Mummy?”

“Yes, sweetheart.”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Of course you can.”

“There’s like this boy I see down the football when we’re training.”

“Right,” I said, thinking I knew where this might be leading.

“He asked me if I wanted to go to a party next week.”

“How old is he?”

“Not sure, fifteen I think.”

“When is the party?”

“Friday.”

“Friday night, you mean?”

“Uh—yeah.”

“Where is it?”

“He didn’t tell me.”

“Until he does, I’m not saying yes. I want to know where, what time it finishes, how you’re going to get there and how you’re going to get home. I also want to know there’s no alcohol.”

She looked uncertain what to say.

“D’you like this boy—as a girl, I mean?”

“He’s okay, I guess.”

“How were you going to tell him?”

“He said he’d be there when I was training on Tuesday.”

“Better get me some answers then, hadn’t you?”

“Yes, Mummy.”

“Danielle.”

“Yes, Mummy.”

“I haven’t said no yet, but I’m not going to say yes without those answers. You’re only fourteen and we’re all too fond of you to let something happen to you.”

“Have you got his phone number?”

She blushed, “Uh huh.”

“He got yours?”

“Um.”

“You’d better tell him what I said, hadn’t you?”

She nodded and ran off blushing like a schoolgirl—duh.

I drank my tea and ate a biscuit—not the best policy with my dinner due in the next half an hour or so—but I felt in need of the sugar. Comfort eating I suppose, so I helped myself to a couple of Lotus biscuits, the ones you get with coffee in nicer cafés.

Danielle appeared at my study door again. “Gosh that was quick work, what did he say?”

“I haven’t phoned him yet.”

“Oh, so what d’you want then?”

“There’s a p’liceman at the door.”

My heart rate doubled and my blood pressure shot up the scale. “Invite him in, I’ll be down in second.” What has happened now? Simon? Oh Jeez. I brushed the crumbs off my sweater and jeans and walked quickly to the hall.

“In the lounge,” said Danielle going off towards the kitchen.

I went into the lounge wondering what tidings of bad news our local plod were bringing this time. Despite having a Jaguar I hadn’t been speeding in it since goodness knows when.

Andy Bond was sitting on the sofa by the window and rose to his feet as I entered. “Mr Bond, how nice to see you.”

“Lady Cameron,” he said nodding to acknowledge me.

“What brings you to this place, nothing bad I hope?”

“Here ya go,” said Danielle bringing him in a mug of tea. He thanked her and waited until she left.

“The man you testified against for damaging your nature reserve and illegal tree felling...”

“McKay?”

“That’s the one. He’s been released from prison.”

“I hope he’s not looking for an order for firewood.”

“I—er doubt it, but we have to let you know.”

“Right, thank you, hopefully he’s learnt his lesson and will steer clear of me in future.”

“Not sure if he has the capacity to learn very much and he was pretty angry with you at the trial.”

“It was I who should have been angry, he killed several dormice and tried to run me down and the children. He was lucky to have only got five years, of which he’s served only half.”

Andy Bond sipped his tea, “That was Danny Maiden as was, wasn’t it?”

“Danielle—yes.”

“She makes a very pretty girl.”

“She does, I’m very proud of her the way she dealt with the assault and has tried to normalise her life as a female—it can’t have been easy.”

“I’ll bet, wasn’t the kid who assaulted her the one who was also attacked on the trip to France?”

“Yes.”

“Strange business that.”

I shrugged. “I hope she’s moved on from that.”

“Indeed. She’s quite a good footballer isn’t she—or he was.”

“Andy Bond, are you pulling my leg?”

“No?” he looked bemused, “What have I said?”

“She’s got an England schools cap and an England Ladies cap.”

“Has she? What at fourteen or fifteen?”

“She’s not quite a good footballer, she’s very good.”

“Doesn’t the um—gender thing make any difference?”

“The sports rules state that if she’s been on hormones or had surgery for a year before competing as female—at that level—she’s legally allowed to compete, same goes for the Olympics.”

“Oh yeah, saw something in the paper about that the other day—they don’t even have to have had the operation any more, do they?”

“I don’t know, it seems the papers have suddenly all become trannie friendly whereas a couple of years ago they were hunting us down to show we weren’t human.”

“That’s all due to that American one, isn’t it, the one who’s always on telly with the rest of his family.”

“Caitlyn Jenner?”

“That’s the one—spent a fortune on plastic surgery.”

“If you have the money, what you do with it is your business.”

“Yeah but you’re a whole lot prettier and you haven’t had your face redone have you?”

“Uh no—too painful—I’m a wimp.”

“Well, I reckon you don’t need it. Right, better be going—any problems with McKay, let us know and he’ll be back inside before he knows what hit him.”

“Oh, how’s that?”

“He’s only done half his sentence, he’s out on licence. If he comes near you or your girls, he can be done for breach of his licence and conditions of parole and he goes back in the can.”

“Okay, thanks for coming to tell us, I’ll let the girls know.”

“Goodnight, Cathy.”

“’Night, Andy.” That’s all I need at the moment, a nutter with a chainsaw on the loose.