Easy As Falling Off A Bike
by Angharad
part 285.

Simon went off to work and I felt glad that he was going to do what he could to help. I knew his family had loads of influence, but they'd have to play it a bit carefully or be accused of trying to influence an independent organisation.

I got up and made some breakfast for myself. I was tempted to do some bacon and eggs for Tom, but he was getting rather rotund recently, so it wouldn't really be in his interest to continue over eating and with the recent stuff about bacon and bowel cancer, well! It looks as if everything we eat drink, breathe or otherwise absorb can do us harm. Life seems to be that little bit we experience between being poisoned by our breakfasts or dinners.

I finished my cereal, and made some tea. Tom came down about half an hour later to the smell of coffee. He smiled at that and poured himself a mug of the black fluid. "Hmm!" he said, "Like used diesel oil, just how I like it." I smiled and sipped my tea.

"So what are you up to today?" he asked.

"Nothing in particular, anything you need me to do?"

"Are you going to see Stella?"

"Probably this afternoon, fancy coming?"

"I'd love to hen, but I have yet another meeting."

"Don't agree to anything about your future that isn't rosy."

"Cathy, I'm a zoologist not a plant picker."

I poked my tongue out at him before remembering there were probably bits of oatmeal on it. He groaned in protest. I blushed.

"What about Stella?" I asked hoping he'd remember why he asked me.

"Stella? I thought you said you were going to see her?"

"I am, why was it important for you to know?"

"It wasn't particularly, I was simply asking."

"Oh, it didn't sound like that."

"Didn't it? What did it sound like then?"

"As if you wanted me to do something regarding it."

"Well I suppose you could take her some flowers or choccies."

"I took her flowers yesterday, I could get some chocolate."

He fished out his wallet and handed me a tenner, "Get some nice ones for her."

"Okay, I might nip into town then." I hadn't been for a week or two and there would be sales still running. I should be saving not looking for clothes and I must not, repeat not, enter any shoe shops!

We chatted until he decided to leave for work, I went up bathed, tried my smaller dildo thingy and made a half hearted attempt to dilate. It didn't bleed this time but it still hurt. I hoped it would get easier, but I wasn't sure.

After drying myself, I made up a sort of plug for it, wrapping a tampax in an iodine tulle dressing, I managed to insert it. I hoped it would help to minimise infection, and hold me open a little. I could see how relatively small the cotton tampon was compared to the dilator, but it was still uncomfortable. I hoped it would be relatively easy to remove, with the grease from the iodine lubricating things. It itched rather than hurt and before I left to go shopping I had to remove it. Back to the drawing board.

I checked with my bank whilst I was in town, I was well in credit - was it such a good thing to know? No more shoes, I was almost chanting to myself as I left the bank and wandered into the shoe shop almost next door.

They had the most beautiful pair of courts in a glossy blue with a small platform sole and a sort of cuban heel. They fitted perfectly and I even saw a bag I liked to match.

From there I went to Monsoon and fell in love with a dress, in guess what, a blue floral design. Marks and Sparks, I bought some new underwear, all satin material. They felt so good next to my skin.

Thornton's, the chocolate shop was next on the agenda and I bought a box of handmade choccies for young Lady Cameron. Tom would get exactly one penny change.

I browsed up and down the hight street and bought a few other odds and ends I needed, like another dress and a skirt and top. I also bought Simon a new tie and Tom a new shirt.

After a cuppa and a cake, I drove off to the supermarket and bought some food for dinner, plus some bread making supplies, yeast and flour and so on.

Lunch was an omlette made with eggs I bought on the way home, from a free range farm. I also bought a chicken, for dinner tomorrow and some organic veg.

Part of me riles at the mention of 'organic anything', it's another of those words which have been hi-jacked and made to mean something other than they used to. Organic, used to mean carbon based as in chemistry, or in medicine, to mean something palpable, such as an organic cause to a disease like a tumour rather than psychological etiology. Now most people these days seem to think it means vegetables which have had no artificial fertilisers near, or meat reared without chemicals or hormones and things.

Anyway my chicken, its eggs and the supporting vegetables were all organic in all senses of the word and I was still chortling to myself as I came in.

I collected the post and amongst various letters was one addressed to me from Southmead hospital. I tore it open with all haste.

'Dear Miss Watt,

Re: Mr Derek Watt

As his designated next of kin, we would be grateful if you could contact the hospital as soon as possible, regarding your father. Telephone contact seems to have not been possible on the numbers you gave us.

Yours sincerely,

J. Burns
Hospital Administrator.'

I phoned immediately and it seemed to take a dog's age to get through to someone I could actually talk to about the letter.

"Ah yes, Miss Watt, he's had a further stroke and is very poorly."

"Can I come and see him?"

"Yes of course, he's on the high dependency unit."

"I'll be up this afternoon."

"Very well, I'll ask one of the staff to tell him, I believe he's been asking for you."

My euphoria from my shopping expedition had turned to naught, suddenly I felt very vulnerable. If he were to die, I'd be an orphan! Omigod!

I put the kettle on and while it boiled I called Stella, Simon and Tom to inform them I'd be dashing up to Bristol. Then I ran upstairs and packed a case.

A quick lunch and I virtually flew off towards Bristol which I got to some hour and a half later, despite the best efforts of the traffic to stop me.

I parked up, paid and displayed and ran to the ward, I tried to compose myself before entering, so I appeared calm to him, but inside I was quaking.

I was shown to his cubicle, he was in bed and looking very sick. His colour was very pale and he seemed to have visibly shrunk since I'd last seen him.

I walked up to him, took his hand squeezed it and kissed him, "Hello, Daddy."

He took several seconds to open his eyes, almost as if the effort was too much bother. It took a couple more before he registered my face. He smiled and tried to speak but he only mouthed the words. It was my name.

"Yes, It's me, Daddy, I'm here," I squeezed his hand again, it felt so cold. "I love you, Daddy," I said before my voice choked completely and a tear ran down my face.

He nodded his understanding and tried to say, "I love you." He gripped my hand tightly, gave a great sigh and died. He had waited for me to get there. I screamed and fell off the chair in a faint.