The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2905 by Angharad Copyright© 2016 Angharad

---

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.
*****

I hate giving adults bad news, to do so to children is a dread. We got home and realised I had blood spattered on me. So ignoring the calls from the girls and Simon I rushed upstairs stripped off and jumped in the shower. After drying and dressing in casual clothes I returned downstairs and threw all the clothes I’d been wearing in the washing machine. Then I made James and Simon a cup of coffee and tea for Stella and me.

“Have you told them?” I asked James quietly.

“Not a dicky bird.”

“What you gonna tell us, Mummy?” asked Trish.

“Just where have you been?” demanded Simon.

“Bringing something to a conclusion albeit a very unsatisfactory one.”

“Girls, go and play for moment will you?”

“You never tell us nuffin’,” complained Trish but led the others out of the kitchen. I looked for Danielle and then realised she was playing football later so was either getting ready for it or had already left to go to the stadium.

“Where’s Danni?” I asked.

“They were going to Oxford so I dropped her off at the stadium, now where did you two go?”

“We went to see Ingrid.”

“I thought she was in hiding?” queried Simon.

“We found her with Sammi’s computer program.”

“And?”

“We informed the plod who arrived just in time to miss her again.”

“Then what?”

“I had a hunch she’d gone back to her usual lair and bingo, there she was.”

“There’s a but coming, isn’t there?”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

“Go on...”

“She saw us made a run for it tripped getting into her car and was hit by a car coming the other way.”

“Is she badly hurt?” asked Stella.

“She died instantly.”

“That bad?”

I nodded.

“How are you going to tell Hannah?”

“Gently.”

“If you need any help...”

“Thanks, Stella.”

“I’ll go and distract the others,” offered Simon. I handed him a bag of mini chocolate eggs and suggested he hide them around the lounge and tell them there’s an egg hunt. He nodded and went off. Of course the girls all came into the kitchen following behind Trish.

“We want the truth—Mummy.”

“The truth eh? Okay, you’re a very demanding and occasionally rude little girl.”

“Nooo, not that...I’m not am I?” Her expression went from one of impertinent indignation to crestfallen in a second.

“Ready,” called Simon from the lounge.

“Daddy has just hidden some chocolate eggs in the lounge.”

Deciding that chocolate was the better part of valour, Trish reluctantly went off with the others. I called Hannah back and asked her to come with me to my study.

“Have I done something wrong, Mummy?” she asked.

“No sweetheart.”

“So why can’t I go on the egg hunt?”

“ I need to speak with you.”

“About her you mean?”

“Yes.”

“I haven’t heard nothin’.”

“I know, sweetheart.”

“Have the cops got her?”

“Uh no.”

“So why can’t I go and hunt eggs?”

“Hannah, I’m afraid Ingrid died this morning.”

“Yeah, so?”

“She was hit by a car getting into her car.”

“Can I go an’ hunt eggs now?”

“Are you listening to me, sweetheart? Your mother was killed this morning.”

“You didn’t do it, did you?”

“No but I was there.”

“Right, so you’re my mum now then. Can I go?”

I was so taken aback all I could do was nod and she dashed off before I changed my mind. Livvie was quite cold blooded about her parents’ deaths too. Have they already detached themselves from their parents beforehand? Or is there a reaction to come? I hate these situations where you have to wait for something to happen before you can react.

I went to make some more tea. “How’d it go?” asked James.

“She took it like I’d just told her the ice cream was finished.”

“Oh—does that mean it hasn’t sunk in?”

“I have no idea. Livvie was very matter of fact about the death of her parents.”

“What happened to them?”

“Her father killed her mother and then hanged himself in custody.”

“Right,” said his mouth but his expression said anything but.

“I’m going to speak to Stephanie,” I announced and went back to my study with a fresh cuppa.

“Cathy, it’s lovely to speak to you but it’s a Sunday morning and I’m willing to bet you weren’t just going to invite me over to lunch.”

“I was actually,” I lied.

“But while I’m there—who is it you want me to see?”

“Hannah.”

“What happened?”

“Her mother was killed this morning.”

“How d’you know?”

“I saw it happen.” I then went on to explain what happened—well the edited version—and Hannah’s response to it.

“What’s for lunch?” she sighed.

“What would you like?”

“Got any more of that Welsh lamb?”

“I might have, would you like that?”

“If you have I might just be available to eat some of it.”

“Done—what time?”

I wondered how this might affect the adoption plans. All I need is Social Services suggesting I killed her to expedite the adoption, which is nonsense. I didn’t want the woman dead, just out of the picture for a few years to give the kid a chance to grow up and get an education.

Simon came in to the study, “Here you are.”

“I always knew where I was, something to do with proprioceptor function.”

“Very funny.”

“I don’t feel at all amusing.”

“I suppose not. I just overheard Hannah tell Livvie that the adoption should go ahead now as Ingrid had been killed.”

“Our prayers worked then?” replied Livvie.

“Looks like,” said Hannah.

“Oh good,” said Livvie.

“They were actually praying for this to happen?”

“That’s what it sounded like.”

“That’s disgraceful.”

“That’s what I thought,” said Simon.

“Yes, everyone knows there’s no god so how’s praying going to facilitate anything?”

“There are people who might disagree, Cathy.”

“There always are, especially where religion is concerned.”

“What if you’re wrong?”

“What if they are, they perpetuate far more damage than I do.”

“I’m not going to argue with you, but I thought you ought to know.”

“There is no argument. For that you’d need to suggest facts, of which there are none, which support the existence of a deity.”

“I think I’ll see if my washing is dry?” so saying he decamped.

‘More double standards, Catherine? We hoped you’d moved beyond such things.’

The voice echoed in my head. It has to be just internal dialogue, there is nothing out there just space and lots more of the same. Why do people need gods? Is it just cultural or is it some sort of character flaw—needing reassurance or protection from the loneliness of responsibility? Yet some cleverer minds than mine believe, which perhaps just demonstrates cognitive ability is irrelevant because faith is an emotional decision.

I went to see if David was in yet and that there was to be a change of plan for dinner.