The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2901 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 awoke the next morning remembering going and finding Daddy in a semiconscious state, possibly made worse by a surfeit of single malt but clearly displaying signs of a CVA or cerebro vascular accident, otherwise known as a stroke. I gave him healing and thankfully, he seemed none the worse for it. But I felt guilty, had my aggression caused it?

I showered and dressed roused the girls and went down. It was only just seven though I felt quite good despite just four hours sleep. Daddy was returning from walking the dog and he seemed to be in good spirits.

“Morning, Daddy,” I offered as he came into the kitchen.

“Aye, it’s guid one,” he said indicating the shiny ball thing in the sky which seemed to have been somewhat lacking of late.

“You seem as bright as the weather,” I said trying to feel him out without asking directly.

“Aye, silly headache I’ve haed fa days has cleared.”

Ah, so it wasn’t just me then. I almost breathed a sigh of relief but the fact that I might have provided the final factor that set off his stroke made me feel ashamed.

“I’m sorry I was so bitchy yesterday.”

“Aye, ye did rather shoot thae messenger.”

“I just felt upset by it all.”

“Aye, I ken, sae wid I hae been, but we hae tae dae this stupid process of advertising an’ interviewing even though I ken the noo, ye’re thae best candidate. It’s crazy but it’s thae law.”

“I know, I just let it get to me and I’m really sorry.”

“It’s alricht, it showed me ye wanted tae keep thae job.”

“A year ago I didn’t, but the longer I’ve done it the more I’ve got to enjoy it, directing the objectives of the department, encouraging the staff and students alike and hoping what I’m doing is what’s best for them and the environment.”

“Aye ye’re a bossy cuss, alricht.”

Astonished by this I glared at him but the twinkle in his eye showed me he was simply winding me up.

Then more seriously he looked at me and asked, “Jest whit did ye dae last nicht?”

“Woke you up from your drunken sleep.”

“I think ye did mair than that.”

“Can’t remember, it was three in the morning, Daddy, I was tired, I just don’t remember.”

“I wisnae deid then?”

“If you had been, I’d hardly be having this conversation now, would I? Except perhaps through a very good medium.”

“Sae ye didnae dae onything, then?”

“I can’t remember—oh I wiped you down where you’d dribbled.”

“I think ye did dae mair.”

“Look, Daddy, we’ve only just made up from yesterday’s squabble, can’t you at least wait a couple more days before initiating the next one?”

He shrugged and went to pour himself a cup of coffee. He’d obviously put the coffee machine on earlier. Sometimes Simon does it if he has time for one in the mornings by which time it looks like treacle but tastes like coffee flavoured treacle. They add boiling water and drink it—imagine coffee like Bovril and you wouldn’t be far off.

The girls started to appear and I shoved the first four slices of bread in the toaster. Sometimes I think we could do with a larger one like they have in some cafes or restaurants which can do six or eight slices. As they ate their cereal I buttered some toast and shoved another four slices in the toaster. More bodies arrived and I did a third lot of toast, and kept two slices which I ate with mashed banana—one of my staples—perhaps it absorbs the mercury from the tuna?

It was Friday and James would do his last school run. Ingrid had gone to ground and the police failed to locate her as they wanted to speak with her regarding the attack on my car. They’d not found the men either and although they claimed they’d worked quite hard, I wasn’t sure that they had because our various encounters had tended to leave them in a bad light. So I received a strong feeling that anyone who got one over on me deserved a pat on the back rather than arrest. I was just a rich bitch trouble maker. I’d also sued them twice and won quite substantial settlements which I’d given to charities. I therefore became a rich bitch troublemaker with a good team of lawyers. I suspect Gotham City police have a similar relationship with Batman.

I’d just eaten my toast and ’nana when James arrived. I noticed Julie and Phoebe went off a little later than before he started coming each day. I gave him some toast and he ladled on honey and peanut butter. I had to turn away or I’d have shared a still warm banana and toast mix. Tom offered him some of his ‘Bovril’ coffee and I went up to change into my cycling clothes.

“You have a lovely arse, Cathy,” observed my overpaid bodyguard, “especially in that outfit. Have you really ridden for Britain.”

“Don’t be daft,” answered Julie, “she hardly rides at all, hence her whopping backside.”

“Thank you, dear. I’ll remember that come your birthday or Christmas.”

“She’s only wearing it because you’re here,” Julie added as a stage whisper.

“You’re going to be late,” I warned Julie.

“Nah, we’re not starting ‘til nine an’ the apprentice can open up and get the kettle on.”

“Well I have to go, I’m teaching at nine and I want to glance through my notes.” I recalled my laptop was in my office along with my rucksack. I also had a change of clothing so I’d be okay.

After a multitude of hugs, even one from Julie and James, I pedalled off towards the university, my eyes watering despite having sunglasses on through the cool wind. Fifteen minutes later I was walking through the corridor to our department. My bike safely stowed, I undid my hair band and began combing it out. A bit of makeup and I went to find my skirt and top. They were nowhere to be seen.

Diane arrived as I was poking about in her office and the toilet. She thought I had taken my clothes home last night. I couldn’t think how, then realised I had taken my rucksack home and left my laptop bag. Oh well, they’ll have to put up with me clomping around in lycra and cycling shoes.

It’s interesting that the lecture I did on evolution and adaptation was attended by a few more men than I expected. I assumed they’d seen my wandering around in my team GB replica kit. I started the lecture by apologising for my attire and also stating that it was a replica kit which I’d received as a present and that I hadn’t actually ridden for Great Britain.

When Tom called by a little later he wasn’t too impressed with my outfit. “Didnae ye bring ony change of clathes?”

“Obviously not,” I said defensively.

“I think she looks good in that,” said Diane coming to my rescue or trying to.

“Aye, sae dae I, but not in a lecture theatre.”

“I wore my gown and mortar board with it,” I said which had Diane rushing off to the loo as she giggled.

“Ye scunner,” said Tom as he walked away. “I wis gang ta tak’ ye tae lunch, but no like that.”

“Take Diane instead, I’ll grab a roll from the refec, I’ve got some things to do anyway.” So that’s what he did.