The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 3022 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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For Wendy Jean, I hope she feels better soon.

We watched the programme Born to be wild and I had to grit my teeth as the three old farts checking dormice boxes would have been reprimanded by me if they turned up on one of my surveys, their method was so sloppy—I mean, even people who’ve just done the dormouse ecology and conservation course with the Mammal Society learn that you roll up your sleeves when you place the nest box in the bag because otherwise the dormice will hop on and up your sleeve and leg it before you get a chance to examine them.

Fortunately, the programme only lasted half an hour and the dormouse bit was only a quarter of that and the otters and bats were interesting. I’ve helped with surveys of both over the years and although I have licences for various bat surveys, I don’t do much of those anymore, done enough scrambling about in lofts and roof spaces as a student—the only advantage was that it got us licences pretty quickly and we learned to operate various bits of kit which like everything else these days become ever more sophisticated. Not that many years ago, the only people who had thermal cameras were the military or the police. I think we have a couple at the university and they’re often used for bat surveys because they move so quickly once they become active and ridiculously, people still worry that the bats are going to become entangled in their hair. I’m sure that does happen occasionally but if you keep still, even in an enclosed space the bats will fly around you—their lives may depend upon not flying into large and predatory animals like humans. If you don’t like the tag of predator or predatory, just ask yourself what other species can take down a humpback whale or even larger blue whale, only humans—we are the top predator on this planet and yet people complain about cats killing birds or small furry things, yeah, right.

The next day, I rose early and after checking over my bike in the garage went out for a short ride, it was only just light and I was back about a quarter past six before anyone noticed I was missing. Then after a shower, I started banging cupboard doors and crocks about and before long some sleepy faces under tousled locks appeared and demanded breakfast.

“Did you get up early?” enquired Danielle.

“Yes, I went for a quick ride.”

“You coulda said,” she grumbled. But how could I respond to that and tell her that I wanted some time to myself without her feeling rejected? Remember the only reason that these kids are with me is because someone already rejected them, sometimes more than once.

“I thought you were fast asleep.”

“Yeah, well if you go again, can I come too?”

“We’ll have to check out the other bikes when we’ve got a few minutes.”

“What’s wrong with after breakfast?” she threw back at me.

“I think we need to give Stephanie some say in what we all do because if you and I disappear, then she has to keep an eye on the others and that can be a bit wearing.”

“I understand that, Mum, but it is our holiday too.”

“So what is it that you feel you haven’t been able to do?”

“Um...” she hesitated.

As soon as she did, Trish was in like a rapier, “She hasn’t had a chance to get off with any Spanish boys.”

Danni went absolutely scarlet and gave her smirking younger sister a daggers look. “Don’t be stupid,” she said.

“Well, it’s true,” counter-charged Trish.

“No it’s not,” insisted the older sibling.

“It is so, I heard her talking with Cindy about boys.”

“You shouldn’t listen to other people’s conversations,” admonished Danielle but her colour was still like a pillar box.

“If you don’t want other people to hear it you should talk more quietly instead of bragging how many boys you were going to snog.”

“I only said that because Cindy saw you lurking about like the weasel you are...”

“I’m not a weasel you big fat stoat.”

As the voices got louder and the accusations ever more personal, I decided to stop it before we got to blows, which I suspect weren’t far away, either that or the first one to back down would run off in tears and sulk for several hours.

“Girls, please. I don’t care what was allegedly said or overheard, it will stop now. So shake hands and apologise to each other.”

“I’m not saying sorry to her, the toad...”

“Well, you’re a big fat frog—frog face.”

“Both of you stop it now or you’ll be in real trouble.” I was growing increasingly exasperated. They both looked at me as if to challenge me with, ‘What ya gonna do about it if we don’t?’

They both stood facing each other both red-faced and arms folded, comforting and providing barriers. “I’m waiting.”

The standoff continued.

“You have ten seconds or I’m going to take punitive action against both of you.”

My threat seemed to spark them into action.

“Sorry, Danni,” Trish held out her hand.

“Yeah okay, I’m sorry too.” They shook hands and then walked off. In five minutes they’d be chatting as if nothing had happened while my blood pressure would probably be well above its normal levels. I switched on the kettle and was just about to fill the teapot when Stephanie appeared at my side.

“You handled that very well.”

“So how come I’m still wound up and they’re probably swapping jokes by now?”

“You’re seeing things from an adult perspective, they’re just responding to their hormones and sibling rivalry.”

“But they’re not really even siblings are they?”

“You could have fooled me, they’re acting exactly like sisters do and that’s a compliment to you; you’ve taken relative strangers and moulded them into a family.”

“A sort of backhanded compliment isn’t it, making me sound as if I’ve manipulated them into something, moulded?”

“Cathy, you’re not hearing what I’m saying. You haven’t manipulated them, you gave them a chance to be included into a family where they might feel loved and protected; where no matter how much they tested you, you’d love them and support them. Like it or not, you are their mother, maybe not biologically but you’re doing a bloody good job in every other respect.”

Now it was my turn to blush and I was already warm enough, as a droplet of sweat ran down my back to emphasise the point.

“Why can’t you accept a compliment without either turning it against the giver or yourself?”

I shrugged, “I suppose I was conditioned that way.”

“Well let it go, that was then, this now—let it go and accept the opinions and compliments of those who know you and see how far you’ve come but also how far you’ve brought these little lost souls.”

I felt so uncomfortable that I’d have almost welcomed a heart attack to avoid this conversation. The distraction did happen but it wasn’t a heart attack, it was a scream from the patio and both Stephanie and I rushed to see what had happened.