The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike) Part 1242 by Angharad Copyright © 2011 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

There was uproar in the house and I put the kettle on and finished cleaning up the kitchen while everyone eventually collected there, the children were sent back to bed after a glass of milk on the understanding they would brush their teeth again.

Finally it was just the adults and Julie who were gathered round the table, I did suggest to Julie she would be tired tomorrow, but she simply ignored me. We drank our tea in silence, the odd word being uttered but no conversation, then it would go quiet again. Finally I broke the silence and asked Diana, “Just what on earth is going on with you, what are these guys after?”

“I don’t know what you mean, poor Goddie is a hostage in India and now you’re turning on me as well.” She began to sniff and put a hankie up to her eyes.

Tom glared at me and said, “Satisfied noo? I brocht her here for safety an’ ye’re mair dangerous than them?”

I wasn’t having any of it, she might fool Tom, who is occasionally an old goat when it comes to women, but I could see straight though her crocodile tears. “I’m sorry Diana, I’m well aware that your husband is a hostage in India–however, I don’t believe a word you’ve said since you told us you slept with Paul McCartney. You have something these guys want and it must be very important to you if it’s worth more than your husband’s life.”

She looked horrified at me and burst into tears, and Tom really erupted. “Wheesht, don’t ye dare upset ma friend like that, ye–ye wee hussy.”

“Can’t you see what’s happening, Daddy. This woman is endangering my family as well as her husband’s life. For what?”

“If ye’re bairns are so at risk, maybe ye’d better tak’ them an’ leave.”

“I don’t believe you just said that.” My stomach flipped when I realised what was happening.

“Weel, I did, sae whit ‘re ye gonna dae aboot it?”

“Si, call the hotel, I’ll start packing. Sorry, Stella, but I suspect you might be included in this madness.” She stared back at me in total disbelief.

“What are you doing?” asked Simon as he followed me back to the bedroom.

“Packing, I suggest you do the same.” I began flinging clothes into cases.

“But this is madness.”

“Yes, but not on my part.”

“You were rather aggressive to that poor woman.”

“That poor woman is going to get us all killed.”

“You can’t be sure of that.”

“I’m as sure as I need to be to take some action. It isn’t just a coincidence that we are attacked the same night as her place is gone over and she comes here. Either what they want wasn’t at her house, or they missed it. But she knows exactly what I’m on about. If one of us is even scratched by whoever is after her, so help me, I tear her arms off and beat her to death with them.”

“You’re beautiful when you’re roused, d’you know that? Let’s make love–now, while your blood is up.”

“Simon, are you completely stupid–we have to pack, now either help me or get oota ma bloody road.”

“I’ll call the hotel.” He picked up the phone and began dialling, I packed a case for everyone.

“We’ll have to borrow the Mondeo, you’ll have to drive it, I’ll get as much as I can in Pepper, but it’ll be full of kids.”

“Will Tom be happy with that?”

“I don’t care if he is or not, it’s what’s happening.”

“I can’t believe you flew off the handle like that.”

“She’s full of shit, Si, can’t you see it?”

“I see an old woman whose hubby is a hostage a long way from home and who’s been violated by some burglar, and now caught up in violence here. How can you be so sure it’s her they’re after?”

“It is, I can feel it in my water, talking of which I need a wee–keep packing.”

I came back from the loo and he was sitting on the bed, “I’ve spoken with Tom, he says if you apologise, he’ll forgive you?”

“You did what? What sort of imbecile are you?”

“Steady on, old girl, there’s no call for that sort of language.”

“I’m going, tell Tom that as long as that old crone is here, I won’t be back.”

“Where d’you think you’re going?”

“I’m taking the children and I won’t be back.”

“Catherine, I forbid this.”

“Simon, go play wi’ yer sporran!” I manhandled three cases down the stairs and a small bag for each of the children. I stacked them outside the back door. I then woke each of the children and got them to pull a coat on over their jammies, and get ready to leave. I packed everything in the Mondeo. Stella packed loads in her Fiesta and Jenny offered to drive my Cayenne. Between us we loaded eight children into three cars, and as much luggage as we could stuff in around them.

“Where’re we going?” asked Stella, “Southsea?”

“No, follow me, it’s going to be a tad intimate but I want them all to stew until they see sense.” At five o’clock that morning we set sail for my bolt hole, Bristol.

Fortunately, we missed the rush hour traffic and the children slept most of the time, waking when we pulled up at my parent’s house–I should say, my house, but it’ll always be my parent’s house to me. I got them all unpacking the cars having let them in, while I went off to buy milk, bread, bacon and eggs–we were not going to starve and an hour later, with everything stacked in the middle of the lounge, I served bacon and eggs for everyone with mugs of hot tea to wash it down.

“What’ll I do about school?” asked Danny.

I looked at my watch–“Even if you ran all the way, you’d be late, so relax, you’ve got an extra day’s holiday.”

“Oh goodie,” he smirked.

I left Jenny and two of the girls to clean up after our breakfast while I organised the sleeping arrangements. There were two beds in the guest room, one in my old room, a double in my parent’s room and none in the room Dad used as an office. In the shed were some bed mats from our camping days, so if the four younger girls slept in the beds in the guest room, they were small enough to go two to a bed. Jenny could have my old room, Danny could use the old office with a sleeping bag and a bed mat, and Stella and I with babies could share my parent’s room. It was a squeeze but it could work; I explained it to Stella.

“Fine with me, I‘ve got a bed, but what about Julie?”

“Oh poo.”

We went down and I tried to explain the sleeping arrangements, including a rota for sleeping on the lounge sofa. “Julie can share with me if she doesn’t mind sleeping on a camping mat,” offered Danny.

“I don’t know,” I wasn’t at all sure it was a good idea although they were both technically boys in the trouser department.

“We’ll share,” said Jenny, “Though I get the bed, you can use the bed roll.”

Julie nodded a little too quickly for my liking. I set them making beds and taking bags to designated rooms.

“I hate to sound mercenary, but am I being paid for this?” asked Jenny.

“Oh yes, don’t worry–I’ll pay you if Simon doesn’t and then claim it back from the divorce settlement”

“Divorce? Goodness, Cathy, it won’t come to that will it?”

“If it does, I shall shaft him royally. His first loyalty should rest with his wife and children, not with some old slag who happens to know my professor.”