The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2927 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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Gaydar seems a wrong term for being able to recognise another transgender person, T-dar, Julie informed me was the usual term, that sounded abysmal too, why not tradar? Oh well, no one listens to me anyway—I had a couple of hundred students who proved that most days.

I had to see the headmistress about something so was later getting to work than usual. When I wandered in at just after nine, Debbie and Diane were in deep conversation, “...and she made me take up the other pair,” said Debbie and Diane gasped and then laughed.

“Sounds like you’ve found either a sewing teacher or a mother substitute,” quipped Diane.

“Sewing teacher perhaps,” I said firmly and they both jumped not having heard or seen my approach. Debbie was wearing the trousers she’d helped to alter which pleased me. She looked like the cat who’d got the cream—what a stupid expression, cats can’t smile or even smirk, though they can look daggers at you as i discovered this morning when I accidentally stood on Bramble’s tail. If looks could kill I’d be well dead.

Inside my room was a bouquet of flowers with a thank you note attached from Debbie. I went out but she’d gone and Diane was busy making me some tea. When she brought it in to me, I was scribbling a quick note to say thank you to Debbie for the flora. Diane noticed me and said, “Debbie said she was looking at some properties to rent, would you likely let her go early? I said I’d ask you.”

“What’s she doing today?”

“She’s doing Darwin and the Voyage of the Beagle—just started and she has three tutorials after lunch. I thought if we brought those forward, she could take the afternoon off.”

“Aiding and abetting absenteeism now are we?”

“Go on—big, tough, nasty boss-lady who was teaching her how to take up her trousers half the night.”

“My credibility is going down the pan isn’t it?”

“What? It’s absolutely soaring—your staff and your students would die for you.”

“What including you?” I teased.

“No way, I’m just a temp, remember?”

“So you are—so any trouble from you, missus, and I’ll call the agency and complain.”

“An’ if they take a week to cover me, who’s going to do your typing?”

“I give up,” I said waving a white tissue and disappeared back into the relative safety of my office.

The rest of the day was average, paperwork, more paperwork and yet more paperwork before we finished up with paperwork—the last bit being some exam papers. I decided to take them home with me and do them in my study, besides I had to go and collect the girls.

We’d kept the Sharran because there was more room for the girls though at times I longed to drive my Jaguar again, it was like the difference in riding a horse bareback or with a comfortable saddle. Perhaps I should make them walk to school—the exercise would do them good?

I’d just settled down to my marking, albeit reluctantly, as the dinner, I’d eaten too quickly so I could get on with my marking, now lay heavily upon my digestive system. David had done a delicious lasagne with all fresh ingredients and I’d eaten too much and too quickly. I’d have preferred to sleep than eat, but these had to be done—the exam papers, that is.

I was trying to stay awake when the phone rang. “Hello?” I said sleepily.

“Cathy, it’s Debbie could you do me a favour?”

“If I can.”

“I need someone to give as a referee for a house I’d like to rent.”

“I can give one as your employer, to say you actually work for me—is that sufficient?”

“I think so.”

“I’ll get Diane to type something up tomorrow.”

“Thank you, night.” She rang off.

I finished my marking at half past twelve—mind you I did half an hour on the turbo to wake myself up then went back to my thankless chore. If you think taking exam papers is bad, try marking the blessed things—believe me it is much worse. What is so frightening is, that apparently I can remember more about a subject I studied ten years ago than half the twits who were taught about it three weeks ago. Though I didn’t teach them.

Debbie was waiting for me when I arrived. She was talking to Diane who was typing something as she listened. As I was asked to sign it when I got there I think I knew what it was without reading it. However, it’s quite an acceptable thing to get an employer’s reference for a tenancy.

Debbie was bubbly, “I’ve found this smashing little place, a terraced house but it’s in great condition and the rent is reasonable. It’s empty from the weekend and I can rent it by the quarter.”

“That’s unusual,” I suggested.

“Yeah, but seeing as I’m on a temporary contract, it has advantages too.”

“I’m sure it does, especially if something better comes up.”

“No this will do me fine and the rent is so good.”

“I’m glad.”

“Thanks for this,” she said waving the envelope the reference was inside, “I’ll take it to Maureen, lunch time.”

“Maureen?”

“Yeah, a big lady but she is so sweet—she acts as an agent for some absentee landlord I expect—you know the type, most have never been that poor that some weeks you have to decide if you want to eat or stay warm.”

I wondered if the Maureen was my friend Maureen. It began to look like it could be and she has acted as letting agent for me so if any of my students rent one of my houses they don’t know it’s mine, so we don’t have any nonsense in front of a room full of students.

As soon as she was off I called Maureen who answered on practically the first ring. I explained what I thought was happening and she agreed it was Debbie.

“What d’you want me to do, ma’am?”

“If you think she’s okay, that’s fine with me but please don’t let her know who owns it.”

“I certainly won’t, ma’am.” I could practically see her saluting me—oh boy.

So Debbie was looking to rent Cate’s old house, not that she’ll remember it. I gave up for the moment trying to explain I wasn’t her mother, but Marie Drummond was, she got all flustered and insisted I was her mum. I’ll have to try again when she’s a fraction older. If I stay well clear of it all then no one can claim conflict of interest

I shall also have to make sure if Maureen comes round that Debbie isn’t here, which could happen as Maureen is supervising the builders renovating the cottages. Knowing my luck, it probably would happen.