The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2866 by Angharad Copyright© 2016 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 got my computer bag out from under the car with the help of the hockey stick. “How did that get under there?” asked my escort.

“I wondered if that was what he was after, so I kicked it under the car. It didn’t impress him much.”

“How d’you mean?”

“He made threatening noises and chased me round the car.”

“I see, did you tell my boss that?”

“I don’t know.”

“I’ll ask him when he comes up—anything in there of particular value?”

“My iPad, some files from university and some data sticks—only the iPad would be of use to a thief,” I suggested.

“Yeah, but he’d hardly be able to see you from the road, would he?”

“Perhaps he was waiting to ambush anyone who came out, or came in. My husband will be home in an hour.”

“Does he carry valuables with him, then?”

“His computer is usually state of the art and my daughter’s who’d be with him, is even better.”

“How come—hers is better than his?”

“She’s their cyber security expert. What she doesn’t know about computers is probably irrelevant.”

“I wish I knew a bit more.”

“I know that feeling. I have a ten year old who knows more than I do.”

“How many children have you got?”

“At last count, ten I think.”

“That’s crazy, how are you old enough to have ten kids? Were you on one of those fertility drugs?”

“Sadly, that wouldn’t help me, I don’t have the equipment—so all mine are adopted.”

“Wow, adopting ten kids, you’re brave.”

“They needed a home, we had room—voila, lots of kids, though some were teenagers who needed somewhere to deal with themselves or life, or both.”

“You’ve got your own orphanage.”

“No, it’s a home to real people and we are one big family. That isn’t to say we don’t have disagreements but we all love each other and support each other.”

“Right,” she said but the expression on her face didn’t quite support it. “So they’re all brothers and sisters?”

“Sisters. Yes they all accept the role and it seems to have helped all of them. We are all stronger if we can see ourselves as part of something bigger. It’s how religion captures people, only in this house it’s real support and love not some imaginary something.”

“I go to church and get something from it,” she said less than pleased with my statement.

“Good for you,” I said and meant it.

“But you’re anti-church?”

“I have no time for religions they are a con and a way of controlling people.”

“They don’t control me.”

“Good, perhaps I’ve got it wrong then, but I won’t be rushing to join the ranks in the pews.”

“We don’t have pews, we have chairs.”

Boy, this one takes things more literally than I do, going to have to watch what I say.

“You some sort of scientist?”

“I’m professor of biological sciences.”

“Ooh a big scientist?”

“Actually I’m the same size I was as a post graduate student.”

She looked at me—two could play at being literal—then smiled. “I wish I could say the same from when I was a cadet.”

I suspected I might be a couple of years older than her.

“Still if I get fed up with the police, maybe you could adopt me?”

“I’ve sort of got my hands full at the moment.”

“Pity, I’d love to be able to say my mother was a professor instead of a cleaner in Tesco’s.”

“Don’t knock the little people, we’re all essential to the system and she seems to have brought you up okay.”

“Yeah, I s’pose, never lived in a big ’ouse like this or drove Jaguars. Pays well does it, being a professor?”

“Probably better than being a constable, but my husband is a bank executive, so he earns more than I do.”

“An’ your daughter is with the same bank?”

“Yes, she earns as much as I do, but she works very hard and is brilliant.”

“I’ve seen you somewhere, haven’t I? You were wearing a suit—that’s it, the poster in the bank. You were on that, weren’t you, with some little furry thing, a rat or mouse?”

“A dormouse called Spike.”

“A pet one?”

“One of our breeding animals but she was a real character.”

“Was—she dead then?”

“She was probably close to eight years old.”

“Is that how long they live?”

“Four or five is more usual.”

“So you an expert in dormouses?”

“Dormice—shall we say I study them.”

“So you are. Did you help with that film they did last year or the year before, they showed on the telly?”

“Yes, I helped them with it.”

“It was quite good, except the girl on it, she was too girly to be an expert on anything, like the one on Autumn Watch, whatever her name is. She’s only there as a token bimbo for Chris wossisname to look good against.”

Oh boy, I decided not to get involved.

“I mean that Chris wossisname..”

“Packham, Chris Packham.”

“Oh yeah, that’s ’im, now ’e knows a thing or two.”

“I agree, he’s a very knowledgeable presenter and he loves his job.”

“Yeah, I quite fancy doin’ something like that—ya know, this ’ere’s a dormouse,” she said with an imaginary animal in her hand.

“Well if you get a bachelor’s, a master’s and doctoral degree, we’ll see about recommending you to the BBC Natural History Unit.”

“You know them?”

“Yes, it was they who commissioned my dormouse film.”

“Your film?” She blushed red enough for me to be able to see it in the light from the house. “Oops, I done it again.”

By the time we actually got into the house and I organised two teas we were overwhelmed by a gang of nosy schoolgirls all wanting to know why they weren’t allowed to see the what had happened out in the road. David was sitting quietly in the kitchen with a brandy and he still looked pale.

“You okay?” I asked placing my hand on his shoulder.

“Yeah, just can’t get the blood out of my head, there was so much of it.”

“The car took his leg off, his femoral artery would have emptied him in minutes, but I suspect the shock killed him.”

“Yeah,” he sat sniffing.

“Look if you want to go home, feel free, I’ll finish dinner.”

“Nah, if I do I’ll only get rat arsed, might as well stay here for now. I’ll get it together in a minute."

"I’ve got to speak to this young policewoman and deal with half a dozen school-ghouls.”

“You what? School what?”

“They feel deprived that they didn’t see anything.”

“But they’d have nightmares for weeks?”

“Quite.”

“Won’t you?”

“I’m an aristocrat, David, we’re supposed to deal with anything life throws at us with a stiff upper lip.”

“But that’s not true, Cathy, you’re one of the most caring and sensitive women I know.”

“Hush, no one is supposed to know that.”