The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2961 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’m going to Bristol at the weekend, I wondered if I might take Pud and perhaps take her over to see Dave and Sue Lane?”

“You taking any of yours with you?”

“I haven’t asked them yet but I suspect Trish or Livvie might want to come, meems will want to be with her dad.”

“She really loves Simon, doesn’t she?”

“Yes she does, and he spoils her rotten, but given her own father was an absent figure for most of her life, it’s understandable that she tries to compensate with Simon, who thrives on it, too.”

“He’s as much of a father figure to my two as well, with Tom and Dad, so maybe seeing Dave lane will be good for her.”

“Why don’t you come as well?”

“Uh no thanks, I don’t think I dare show my face anywhere near them after what happened at Des’ funeral.”

“Stella, you were ill, no one thought badly of you, especially Dave and Sue—they understood.”

“That’s more than I did, no perhaps next time.”

“I’ll have to see if they’re available.” I went off and phoned and they said they would be. I hinted that I was bringing some of the children if that was okay and it was. I decided not to raise their hopes in case Stella does an about face and stop Puddin’ coming with me.

I asked Livvie and she said she’d come but Trish wasn’t that interested saying something about doing something with Sammi. As that’s a rare event I decided I’d leave them to it. I didn’t expect Danielle to want to waste her Saturday but she surprised me and said she’d come.

Later on that day I had a call from Andy Bond to say they were still investigating Joshua Dell but it looked as if some sort of prosecution was going to happen or at least be passed to the DPP to decide if there was a case to answer. While it was still up in the air, it did sound positive so I felt okay about it.

There’d been a recent case in the UK about some photographer a British man who’d been convicted of goodness knows how many child sex crimes in Malaysia ranging from six months old to teenage. How anyone could harm a six month old baby is mind boggling, especially for their own sexual gratification—it just doesn’t compute in my mind, as I suspect it wouldn’t in most people’s minds, men or women. I feel he should serve the rest of his life behind bars, but this is England so I know he won’t—it’s too expensive to keep him behind bars. However long they keep him there, he’ll still be a threat when he comes out which I think is unacceptable. I mean he abused about seventy kids and took videos and photos of it to share with his twisted friends on the dark net. Had it been my kids he’d messed with, he’d be lying in a ditch somewhere minus various bits of his anatomy—like his vital organs, arms, legs and head.

I calmed myself down—child sexual abuse was inexcusable and unforgiveable and totally unacceptable anywhere. It is illegal as well as immoral and makes me angry. I went and made some more tea and went back to my paperwork—like marking or second marking exam papers—gives new meaning to tedium and I hate it. I’d rather wash down one of the laboratories than realise how many of our students hadn’t grasped the basics of either biology or ecology. Was that because they weren’t there? It certainly looked as if they’d been absent, because, let’s face it, if you attend enough lectures and tutorials or read the odd book, you tend to learn something. Some of these struggled to write coherently, to form a sentence let alone form an argument or discuss a hypothesis. I suspect most of them thought it was the diagonal bit in a right angled triangle.

We did have three bright sparks who could well get firsts if they kept their concentration up. I hadn’t seen their papers yet so I’d wait and see, but a few of them looked to be re-sitting or being sent down for lack of effort.

Every year I give a similar warning, we’re a university not a social club, that the students were there to study or apply their learning. If they didn’t without very good reason, they would end up being sent down, an ignominy in anyone’s language.

The week seemed to drag by then suddenly galloped past in the final furlong and it was up to Bristol with Danni, Livvie and Puddin’. I was pleasantly surprised that Stella let me take her and she chattered away with Livvie in the back of the car while Danni either listened to the radio or chatted with me. I also let her set the satnav to the Lane’s house and we arrived at my parent’s old house at mid morning. The weather was nice, nicer than it had been at Portsmouth, so we set to the chores I’d identified as needing done before we went to see the Lanes.

The younger girls helped me with the housework while Danni in shorts and vest mowed the lawns for me. I then treated them to fish and chips for their lunch, going to get it while Danni watched the younger children. It was from the shop where Malcolm Bragg had worked when I’d last seen him, a couple or more years ago. He wasn’t there but the quality of the product was still good.

Replete, we cleaned up and set off for Des’ parent’s house, it was now two o’clock in the afternoon. I hoped we’d be finished by three so we could go and enjoy the sunshine, perhaps to grab an ice cream and a walk along the canal.

The house was in a part of Bristol I didn’t know very well, not surprising as it’s a biggish city once being England’s second city, though that has been usurped by either Manchester or Birmingham these days. Despite the satnav, we appeared to have got rather lost and I had to phone them and ask for directions. Dave thought it was hilarious, given I’d spent much of my life there. I found it embarrassing.

Danni discovered we’d entered the wrong post code, so were lucky we hadn’t ended up in Swindon or Bath—mind you, Bath is a lovely city unlike Swindon, which used to be a railway town—they had a huge depot there. Nowadays, it’s known as the place of roundabouts, some of which confuse people who’ve lived there all their lives. Thankfully, we hadn’t ended up there and given our luck so far that day, we’d probably run out of fuel driving round in circles.

It wasn’t to be, and I spotted Dave waving to us at the end of his drive. At last we were there and while Danni entered our next destination in the satnav, I parked between their caravan and their large Skoda car, which I presumed pulled it. I hoped we weren’t going to be here too long.