The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2898 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 worked like a Trojan for the next hour and a bit, then exhausted, I bid goodnight to Diane and left for home. I’d stayed in my cycling clothes, the Team GB replica kit. Getting back on the bike I began to wonder if everyone would be better off without me. I could make it look like an accident, ride into a pothole and fall under some truck or bus. They’d be sad for a few weeks I expect but with me out of the way they’d all have to pull together and help each other.

At traffic lights, I felt rather than saw another cyclist pull alongside me. “Running away again, are you?” said a familiar voice.

“Billie?”

“I used to be proud of you, Mummy, but you’re just like all the others.”

“What d’you mean?”

“You know what I mean and if you do it, I’ll make sure you never ever see me again.”

“And if I don’t?”

“I’ll continue to come to see you as long as I’m able to.”

“Why can I never see you?”

“Your mind is closed to me.”

“No it isn’t, darling.”

“If it wasn’t you’d see me.”

“Well teach me to see you, help me learn to open my mind to you.”

“I don’t know if I can, Mummy.”

“You must, sweetheart, please.” Tears were flooding down my face.

“You okay, love?” asked a policeman who walked up to me. The lights had changed twice and I hadn’t moved and I was clearly talking to myself—obviously some escaped nutter having a breakdown or something similar. Probably I’d turn into some sort of monster and run amok killing and maiming—no one. Well possibly myself. It’s a well known fact that most people who are having a crisis are more danger to themselves than to anyone else.

“I’m okay,” I said and pedalled off as the lights turned green almost into the path of a large truck. I sniggered when I realised it was carrying food for Marks and Spencer, it struck me as ironic that a company that prides itself on ecologically balanced sourcing could have one of its trucks kill a professor of ecology.

Somehow I got home, though left my laptop in work, so couldn’t work at home that evening. I was mobbed by a throng of children, it seemed they knew I was very upset and once greeted, I went upstairs to change and shower—not necessarily in that order.

While I was in the shower Trish peeled off her clothes and came in too. I hadn’t seen her naked for a long time—she was becoming a young woman with pert breasts and widening hips.

“What’s the matter, Mummy?”

“Nothing why?”

“I’m not a six year old, I could see you’d been crying, why?”

“No, it was just the cold wind. Always makes my eyes water.”

“Billie said you’d been crying.”

“How would she know, she’s gone.”

“She said she may be dead but she doesn’t tell lies.”

“I can’t see her, so I’ve only your word for it that you can see her.”

“She said you would be able to see her if you opened your mind to her.”

“Sorry, darling, but I’ve got more important things to think about than that.”

“That was your daughter.” She flounced out of the shower and stark naked and water still running off her little body, stormed out of my bathroom and slammed the door behind her.

“Happy now?” said the voice in my head again.

“Show yourself,” I demanded.

“Make me,” taunted the voice.

“You’re not my daughter.”

“Prove it.”

“I damn well will.”

I threw some energy at the voice and it laughed at me. Then, feeling sneaky, I sealed the door and window with a flaming pentagram. Then I filled the bathroom with a brilliant white light and there was loud shriek and whatever it was disappeared.

“Are you all right, Mummy?” asked Danielle dashing into the bathroom as I pulled a towel around me.

“Yes I’m fine thank you, where’s Trish?”

“In her room I expect.”

I trotted into the girls’ bedroom, Trish was crying bitterly on the bed “She killed Billie,” she screeched pointing at me.

“What?” replied Danielle, “How can you kill someone who’s already dead?”

“I dunno, but she did, I saw it.”

“You can’t have done.”

“I just saw it happen.”

“Then how come she’s stood by the side of you shaking her head.” Seemed like Danielle could see her better than Trish.

Between them they convinced me they could see her and converse with her, so much so that they heard her moan at me to open my eyes. As they were both wide open at the time, it went straight over my head.

“Open your mind, Mummy.” I heard Billie’s voice fading away as she said this over and over again.

“You can see her as well?” said Trish to her older sister.

“You know damn well I can.”

“So how come she appears to me then?”

“Is it her?”

“Course it is, who else could it be?”

“I think what rather than who is the more apposite question,” I said realising that neither of them would understand what I was saying.

“What?” they both said in unison.

“You accused me of killing Billie.”

“I saw her burn in the white light.”

“Do you honestly think, Trish Cameron, that she would do that—burst into flames?”

“Why not? You’re a very capable magician."

“It wasn’t her, it was something else.”

“Like what?”

“An elemental,” I wasn’t sure where the message came from but that’s what it told me.

“What’s that, Mummy?” asked Danni.

“It’s a low form of entity but they like to play tricks a bit like naughty children.”

“I didn’t think you believed in that sort of thing.”

“I don’t,” nor could I say why the voice that spoke was mine.

“So this thing you don’t believe in...”

“Yes, it must be a trick of the light...”