The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2914 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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The next day Amanda returned and was horrified to see the damage to the cottage next to her. “David could have used my cottage,” she exclaimed when she saw the caravan. About an hour after she arrived, a large lorry with scaffolding pulled up in the drive and by lunch time the three men erecting the poles had finished that part of the job. They took a break for lunch and we made them hot drinks. Half an hour later we watched as they fixed heavy plastic sheeting all over the scaffolding enclosing the damaged roof and the gable end that had been damaged.

Maureen came after they’d finished and inspected it, she seemed quite pleased with the job and her builder colleagues would be able to get started the next day. There was an external tap on the side of the cottage and she ran an outdoor extension socket to stand beside it.

“What’s that for?” asked our resident genius.

“So they can boil a kettle while they work.”

“Really?” she asked unsure of the older woman’s answer.

“No, it’s so they can run a cement mixer.”

“Ah,” said Einstein and went off curiosity sated—for the moment.

“Do we know the builders?” I asked unsure of having too many strangers on the property.

“Yes, it’s Ed Mutton and his brother, they did much of your extension.”

“Oh I remember, big chap with a beard, his brother’s bald as a coot.”

“Yep, seen more hair on a billiard ball,” was Maureen’s reply. They were quite good workers. A heavy shower sent us all scuttling for cover. “Make sure the kids stay away from the scaffolding, it’s dangerous if you don’t know what you’re doing.”

“I’ll tell them at dinner, unless you wish to do so.”

“Nah, you can do it.”

“They may take it better from you I urged, or why don’t you stay for dinner and you can tell them then?”

“Okay, what time?”

I told her about six and she said she’d be back. I knew that Julie would be pleased to see her again.

“We have another for dinner,” I announced to David.

“If you’re thinking of calling me trailer trash, don’t bother.”

“What?” It hadn’t entered my consciousness let alone my mouth.

“You heard.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Good,” he retorted doing something in the sink, “Now, out of my kitchen.”

One of these days I shall remind him it was my kitchen long before he came. I asked Amanda if she wanted to amuse the girls or do some ironing. Having been caught before, she opted for the ironing. I therefore got to amuse Danni and those younger. We still had the minibus thing and I suddenly asked, who wants to go swimming? I was nearly killed in the stampede. So while David cooked and Amanda ironed, I took the hooligans to the hotel swimming pool.

I half expected Danielle to wear her bikini, it looks really nice on her but she opted for a conventional bathing suit, which still showed her developing shape but was probably safer for some serious swimming. As soon as we got there she was goggles on, swim cap on and she swam continuously for an hour. I messed about with the younger ones in the shallow end. I did eventually get a swim when Trish and Hannah watched the little ones and Livvie and I did a few lengths. I’m not a good swimmer and Livvie was soon well ahead of me, finishing half a length up when we finished. My shoulders felt stiff and I knew I’d regret it the next day but the girls enjoyed it.

On speaking with Danielle, she explained that she needed to do the exercise because she felt generally unfit. She had training that night, so I warned her not to overdo it. She total ignored me relying on her youthful body to meet whatever demands she placed upon it. I thought she might struggle in another twenty years when you first begin to realise you’re not nineteen any more.

The journey back was verging on nightmarish as we caught some of the rush hour not help by road works and a minor shunt, where two cars managed to bump each other and spent ten minutes assessing the damage before moving them. Camera phones came out and pictures were taken from every perspective. The person in front of me beeped at them and then we had an argument and finally some fisticuffs. The girls thought it more entertaining than television. I just hoped no one got hurt.

Then the fight seemed to roll back to our car and they bumped into the side of it. I’d had enough and wound down the window and told them to grow up. Lots of cars were beeping their horns at them.

“Shut it, bitch,” was the response I got from first one.

“Did he call you a lady dog, Mummy?” asked Hannah.

“Yes, he did,” said Danni and as the scuffle revisited us, Danni pulled her wet swimming cozzie out of the bag and slapped him across the face with it. “Don’t you call my mother names,” she shouted at him. He swore at her and used the C word I was out of the minibus and shouting at him.

“You tell him girl,” shouted some woman egged on by several others, so he took a swing at me calling me horrid names. I ducked out of the way and told him to stop it before he got hurt. Some people never learn. He took another swing and I let him come past before I kicked behind his knee and pushed him over. Those in the cars behind cheered loudly.

I went to get back into my car as the traffic was now ready to move again and our aggressive nuisance charged at me. I sidestepped and opened the door on him as he flew at me. He bounced backwards and stayed on the road rolling about holding his face. I didn’t know what to do, whether to leave him there or go and see how hurt he was. Moments later the police arrived and when they went to help him he attacked them, we left them to deal with him and drove home.

Trish had filmed it all and I wondered how many others had as well. Thinking about it, I shouldn’t get involved. I’m a professor and bank director, I should be more circumspect about this sort of thing. The girls enjoyed it and were full of it when we got home. Simon was less effusive in his praise—“I thought women tended to avoid physical violence at all costs unlike men.”

“I didn’t start it,” I protested.

“You never do,” he sighed.

“He should be glad it was me he had a go at and not Maureen, she’d have killed him.”

“I suspect Maureen would have the sense not to get involved in a public brawl.”

“He kicked the side of the minibus.”

“It’s a people carrier.”

“Yeah, a minibus.”

He shook his head and Maureen appeared, not as a consequence of him shaking his head—goodness that would sound as if she was stuck in his ear or something. In actual fact, her car pulled into the drive while we were talking and as he shook his head she entered the building. Am I wasting my breath here?