The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2978 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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We heard John pull up in his battered 4x4, it was diesel, sounded like a tractor or old fashioned bomber and gave off more fumes than a Chinese power station. I was glad I wouldn’t be driving or cycling behind it. “Is that thing legal?” I asked half jest whole earnest.

“What, Bessie, of course, sailed through the MOT.”

“Only because the tester got emphysema checking the exhaust.”

“Ha,” he declared looking at my Jaguar; “this will still be going when that’s been recycled as cat food tins.”

I heard Danielle stifle a snigger and I introduced her, she went all shy and said, “Hi,” barely looking at John.

“So how come you got lumbered with checking dormouse boxes, boyfriend off playing football?” he said to her.

“Actually, it would be the other way round, John, she’s the footballer, aren’t you, kiddo?”

“Yeah,” she blushed.

“Which team d’you play for?” he asked her.

“Portsmouth Ladies,” she said quietly back.

“Well done, perhaps you could show those lummocks in the England jerseys what to do.”

“I take it you mean, the men’s team?” I asked, setting him up for the knock out.

“Well yeah, with all due respect even if Portsmouth ladies are good it’s hardly international quality is it?”

“Please tell John the other team you play for,” I urged Danni.

“The school?” she said with an element of surprise.

“No, you dipstick, who are you playing for next week?”

“Oh them, yeah.”

“Who is it, Danielle?” asked John waiting to start the car.

“Um—England ladies.”

He paused and looked at her. “You play for the national side?”

“I’m in the squad for next weekend.”

“How old are you?”

“Fourteen.”

“Well, young lady, I take my hat off to you, it’s not often we get an International footballer on our dormouse checks.”

“What time are we meeting the others?”

“I think we may be all that’s coming today.”

“How many nestboxes?”

“A hundred.”

“Oh well, better get started then.”

John turned on the engine and a cloud of black smoke almost engulfed my house as we started down the drive and off towards the motorway. The traffic was fairly free flowing and we were on site about three quarters of an hour later.

The site was mainly flat with just a dozen boxes up on a small incline. John showed us the plan of the siting of the boxes and I reminded Danni how we’d do it, cover the hole in the back of the box, unclip the lid, slide across enough to see inside but not enough to let any potential occupant out. If there’s nesting material to call out and we’d come to help her. Essentially, that meant taking the box off the tree and placing it in a large plastic bag, removing the lid and poking about in the nest material to feel if there’s anything in it, including any nest structure. Wood mice tend to build careless nests compared to dormice and some birds who also occupy them fairly regularly. Wrens fill the box with big domed nests, whereas blue tits and great tits tend to build a cup shaped one.

We set to and Danni called for help on her second box. It was a nest and we had the box off the tree and in the bag deciding it was a wood mouse nest, but on probing, out popped a dormouse.

“That’s not supposed to happen is it?” said John.

“I have seen it before, but not very often, it’s usually the other way round but it’s been cold so perhaps she was dossing down for one night.” I had grabbed and sexed the dormouse before putting it in a small bag and weighing it. “Fourteen grams,” I said to John who made a note of it.

Two hours and two dormice later, we completed the survey. We had three great tit, two blue tit and one wren nest. A long-eared bat and dozens of woodlice or snails made up the rest of the inventory. I felt it was about average given the time of year and the cool spell.

John offered a cuppa and bacon sandwich at a cafe he knew off the motorway. I knew where he meant as well, or thought I did. I did. “We used to ride out here when I was a kid.”

“Who’s we?” asked Danielle.

“I first off came here with my dad but when he found I was riding as fast if not faster than him, he stopped coming out with me.”

“What age were you, Cathy?” asked John, pulling into the car park.

“About thirteen or fourteen.”

“Don’t think I’d be too happy letting a daughter of mine ride out here from Bristol on her own.”

“I was with the rest of the club, the CTC.”

“That’s very different,” said John visibly relaxing.

John went up to the counter to order and I glanced around the place, there were loads of photos including one of our club with me in the centre, hair in two plaits and looking very girlish. Danielle snapped a copy on her iPhone and sniggered—I told her I would not be blackmailed but she sniggered some more.

“Did you do your own plaits?” she asked.

“Uh—no, one of the girls in the group used to do it for me and tie ribbons on the end, she thought it was funny.”

“Yeah, ha ha,” said Danni scornfully.

“Here we go, tuck in and thanks for your help this morning.”

Back at my parent’s house—okay, my house—we changed and loaded the car with all our clothes and dormouse kit, locked up the house and drove off to Cribbs Causeway and the retail park there. I told Danielle she could have two hours maximum of shopping—then had difficulty keeping up with her.

I was looking in a shop window and spotted someone I’d known in school. Danni picked up on my change in posture. “Wossup, Mum?”

“See the man in there,” I nodded into the shop.

“Which one, the one with the beard of the other one?”

“The bearded one.”

“What about him?”

“I used to sit behind him in school.”

“Wanna go in and say hello?”

“No thanks, I couldn’t stand him as boy so he’ll probably be even worse as a man.”

“He’s working in a shop, you’re a professor at a university—I think I know who’s done better for themselves.”

“He used to fart and it all drifted back to me.”

“What Silent But Deadly,” she snorted.

“Exactly that.”

“C’mon see if you can get discount.” With that she walked into the shop, a sports one.

I followed reluctantly. Wayne Berisford came over to serve us and I tried not to flinch. “How can I help you, ladies?”

“D’you do discount to members of teams?” asked Danielle quite brazenly.

“Depends on the team—which one are you in?”

“Portsmouth ladies...”

“Uh no, sorry, only local teams or internationals.”

“She also plays for England ladies,” I threw in and watched his face drop.

“Okay, ten per cent for that if you have some ID with you and fifteen if we can get a photo of you to use in the shop looking at some merchandise.”

“I think that should be twenty per cent for the photo, especially as she’s playing next weekend.”

“What for England?”

“Yes, the domestic season is over isn’t it?”

“Yeah, course it is,” I could see him thinking we have a right one here, but I didn’t care. It was payback for all the shit he’d thrown at me in school. Danni ended up buying a very expensive pair of football boots and got the twenty per cent, admittedly for a photo, which they printed off and she signed it.

“Was that wise? If this ever blows up in my face and my history comes out, Mummy, they’ll have proof we were there.”

“So what, you got some nice boots didn’t you?”

“Yeah but...”

“No buts, could you have got them as cheap anywhere else?”

“No, I don’t think so.”

“So we got a result, didn’t we?”

“Yeah, and I thought he was going to cry when he worked out the discount.”

We both chuckled and I drove us home.