The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2897 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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To say I was taken aback was the understatement of the millennium. For a moment I was lost for words, then I felt angry but before I could vent my spleen, he spoke again.

“It’s no reflection of the work ye’ve done here it’s thae process. We hae tae be seen tae be above board and if ye got thae job, it wid be on yer merits no because ye’re my dochter.”

“I presume you want me to stay for the rest of this academic year?”

“Aye, ye’d need tae give three months notice at least. I understand hoo ye feel.”

“Do you?”

“I think I’ll apply to Bristol as well, hedge my bets, so to speak.”

“Ye’ll be thae one tae beat, ye’ll be a strang candidate where ever ye apply. I’d like tae see ye tak this one.”

“Yeah, sure. If that’s it, I have work to do.”

He left looking ten years older and as if he’d just killed all my children. I felt for him and I knew he was only obeying the system but it rankled and I was very angry. I didn’t want to talk to him, I wanted to think and to do that I needed to be alone. I had just dismissed my adopted father who was also my superior at the university—perhaps in all sorts of ways as well. But I had sweated blood for the place and this was my reward.

I grabbed my cycling clothes, told Diane to hold my calls and I may or may not be back. “Cathy, what’s wrong?”

“I’ve just been invited to apply for my own job.”

“Oh.”

With that I wheeled my bicycle out of the side entrance and hardly able to see for tears, rode up towards the downs. It took me a good half hour to get up to the car park and even riding on autopilot I had to take care with the traffic. Most drivers should be registered as sight impaired if not blind and once or twice I had to take avoiding action due to their stupidity. I didn’t even swear at them because the mood I was in if it came to blows I’d probably kill them.

I eventually achieved the car park where the ice cream van usually parks and dismounted, walking the bike over the gravelly surface of the car park. I found somewhere to sit and sat there looking down on the city with very uncertain feelings about it. I knew that it was irrational but then, emotions are irrational, how could I blame a city when most of its inhabitants will never have heard of me and if they had, couldn’t give a rat’s arse about me anyway. The same would be true of Bristol.

Overcome with my emotions, especially that of hurt, I eventually gave into tears and sat there weeping for probably ten minutes. Part of me wanted to run away but that had rarely been my strategy in life, except when I was about seven and I ran away from home—I walked for about two hours and my mother was frantic—we’d had a row—well she wasn’t impressed with the fact that I’d managed to catch a live grass snake and it released its only defensive weapon the smelly liquid which seemed to get everywhere. It’s the closest thing we have to skunks in the UK.

A copper in a panda car found me and I got my first ride in a police car without being a suspect for something or other. I was still covered in the grass snake ooze and wiped my smelly hands in the seat of his car. I’ll bet he loved me. Even those days, where life was much simpler, I seemed to find troubles or they found me.

I sat looking down on the city and the English Channel beyond, my eyes bleary with tears. “You all right, love?”

Startled, I looked up, even with my bleary vision I could see it was the ice cream seller. “Yes, I’ll be okay, thank you.”

“Look, it’s gone quiet and I was going to make some tea, you look like you could use a cup. Yes?”

I nodded, “Yes, I’d like that, thank you.”

“Two minutes, okay?”

I nodded.

It was more like five minutes but he passed me a cup of tea, too strong for my own preference, but possibly the caffeine would give me a little extra energy. I felt exhausted and I had to get back to work to get my laptop, not to mention my clothes.

For the next twenty minutes we sat in silence, interrupted only by the odd customer buying ice cream, the sun was shining—so we Brits buy ice cream—yeah okay, I don’t understand it either, but that’s what we do.

“So, why were you crying? You don’t have to tell me, but they say a trouble shared...you know.”

“It’s no big secret. I learnt today I’ve got to apply for my own job.”

“Where d’you work?”

“I don’t think I want to say that.”

“Okay, so it’s probably the military, probably the navy—you’re a scientist or technician—yep, that’s what happens. Come back from Afghanistan and get made redundant. Lovely people the government—I don’t think.”

“I have to go, thanks for the tea.”

“My pleasure, love, good luck, eh?”

I nodded and rode back towards Portsmouth.

“Tea, professor?” asked Diane.

“Please.” If I said no, she’d think I was an alien impersonating me.

“Now what happened—with your dad, I mean?”

“It appears I will have to apply for my own job.”

“Why? The old VC offered you a permanent contract, why can’t they?”

“They have protocols to observe, apparently.”

“Oh yeah, they have to advertise every job. Surely no one could be better than you for it? You’ve been doing for some time and doing it well. You’ve brought in extra sponsors—hell, you’re better than anyone else at raising money.”

“If I go so will the survey and the bank’s sponsorship.”

“Will it?”

“Yes, I’ll make certain of it.”

“Isn’t that a bit spiteful—I find that unworthy of you, Cathy.”

“You ain’t seen nothing yet.”

“I don’t think I want to know and you’ll be giving them grounds to appoint someone else.”

“Maybe I’ll just stay at home and play Lady Muck, like Simon originally wanted me to do.”

“I don’t believe I’m hearing this—what about the students? What about the dormice? What about the study centre? Who’s that little girl standing next to you? She looks very upset with you.”

“You can see her?”

“I could, she’s gone now—who was she?”

“Almost certainly, Billie, we named the visitor centre after her.”

“Is she—you know...”

“Is she dead? Yes, she died while we were out on the bikes. She crashed and died from a brain aneurysm.”

“I’m sorry,” she looked very sheepish.

“She appears every so often, Trish sees her most often, me very rarely. I’d kill to see her, to hold her once again—but it isn’t going to happen.”

“She said not to think anything’s impossible and you shouldn’t be nasty to Gramps, he’s only doing his job.”

“I know, kiddo, but I don’t have to like it.”

“She said, ‘You know what you have to do,’ oh she’s gone again.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Which is?”

“To make this the best biology department I can regardless of whether or not I keep control of it.”

“Won’t that make you more likely to get the job?”

“I don’t know, possibly; but I’m just going to do the best I can and let the rest sort itself out—it will whether I worry about it or not.”

“Someone just said, “That’s the spirit, Mummy.”

“I guess we both know who that was.”