The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike) Part 1861 by Angharad Copyright © 2012 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

It was the following evening before I had a chance to speak with Julie. “I presume you know about me bumping into Phoebe in Asda?”

She looked as if she was searching her memory, “You know, I’m pretty sure she mentioned it.”

“She was bunking off college, wasn’t she?”

“So? She going to walk the course anyway–I did and she’s far cleverer than I’ll ever be.”

“Never put yourself down, dear,” I said patting her shoulder, “just because people aren’t academic, it doesn’t mean they’re not clever. Besides, Trish has got more brains than all of us together but she can’t cut hair like you do.”

“Trish is eight, Mummy, that might have something to do with it.”

“True, but she is a bit clumsy when it comes to practical skills.”

“So, I suspect a university professor earns more than a hairdresser.”

“On the whole–probably.”

“So, I think brains are more use than practical skills.”

“No they complement each other. It’s no point being a supa-doopa architect if you can’t find some brickies to make your plans come to life, is there?”

“Okay, I’ll give you that one.” She smiled and her whole face lit up. Did I tell you she was a very pretty girl?

“Phoebe was bunking off, wasn’t she?”

Julie shrugged, “I wouldn’t know, but it’s not your problem anyway, is it?”

“She’s under my roof, Julie, so I am responsible to some extent. I got her the place so I do feel partly responsible for her, and she is only sixteen.”

“I know, I’ll have a word with her.”

“Who’s this boy she’s seeing, anyway?”

“Oh him, yeah, Clinton Bodie. His dad’s got a betting shop over Fratton way and there’s talk of him opening a second one in town and Clint will manage it.”

“How old is he then?”

“Eighteen.”

“Hence the car,” I thought that he was too old for Phoebe, who is essentially still a schoolgirl.

“Yeah, a Vauxhall Astra, ’s’alright I s’pose.”

“Is he a nice kid, I’d hate to see her hurt by some arsehole.”

“He’s alright, a bit clueless at times, so how he’s gonna manage a betting shop, God knows.”

“You obviously know him?”

“Yeah, he knows some of the girls at the salon. It’s where he met Phoebe.”

“Can you keep an eye on her, and let me know if I need to take a more active interest in her life.”

“It’s alright, he doesn’t know where she lives, an’ he thinks he’s poor little rich kid.”

“What difference does that make–where she lives?”

“His dad’s got a nice house but nothing compared to this. If he’d known I lived here he’d have been chasing me. He likes money.”

“I don’t see how size is important,” I said deliberately, giving her a chance to laugh at me, “house wise I meant.”

She took the opportunity and gave me a funny look before laughing loudly, “Oh size is important, Mummy dear, or are you missing out here?”

“I’m not missing out on anything, darling, just you be careful when you’re road testing yours and not pick up anything.”

“Crikey, Mummy, are you telling me I can have sex?”

“You’re over eighteen, so I can’t stop you even if I wanted to.”

“Do you want to then?” This was accompanied by a curious expression I found hard to read.

“No, of course not. I know we don’t have the full equipment, but it can still be very enjoyable and even lovely, which is how I’d like it to be for you all when the time comes. It’s part of growing up and of consolidating a relationship, and shouldn’t be used too lightly.”

“Isn’t that a contradiction, Mummy; you’re saying it’s beautiful, so don’t do it?”

“No, I’m saying it’s beautiful when it’s an act of love. If you’re just screwing around, you cheapen it and yourself.”

“Yeah okay, is the sermon over?”

I blushed, had I been preaching? I didn’t think so–but then I’m speaking from a position of a stable relationship, where occasionally we just screw, but mostly it’s an act of devotion for both of us.

Julie went off to her room, Phoebe appeared a little later as I was doing some more work on the survey–just because I’ve submitted my dissertation, it doesn’t mean the survey has finished.

I was in a bad mood now. Julie had effectively flipped me off, and I was dealing with a particularly clueless observer in Macclesfield who kept telling me he had water voles in his back garden eating his dahlias. He’d written before, telling me they were living in his fish pond and eating his goldfish and he wanted permission to kill them. I’d referred him to Natural England, and pointed out that water voles were declining, and thus protected in the United Kingdom. What more could I say? They’re essentially, like all voles, herbivorous, but have been known to eat the legs of frogs, leaving the bodies untouched. I had someone send me some photos of that from Wiltshire, where it was discovered. Talk about weird–that’s like discovering sheep eat dogs, which thankfully they don’t, because humans would soon be on the list and that would mean the sheep would contain all sorts of horrible substances and make them uneatable to us. If one ate me, the amount of mercury I probably contain from eating tuna would render it unfit for human consumption.

“Um–Cathy?” said a head poking round the door of my study.

“Yes, Phoebe.”

The body followed the head round the door and she came into my room. “About yesterday...”

I put down my pen and tried hard not to sigh. This was not good timing from my point of view. “Yes?”

“I did have some free periods.”

“Fine, it’s your life–do what you want with it. Is that it?”

“You’re not cross with me?” she sounded a mixture of relief and disappointment.

“Cross? Why should I be cross? Like I said, it’s your life, so you can do with it as you wish, including screwing it up.”

If she’d had any sense she’d have left there and then, but she wanted to state her case–big mistake. “We were having coffee after Bodie took me to Asda to get an overall for hair colouring.”

“I didn’t know they sold them,” I said trying to keep my voice even.

“Neither did I, but one of the girls on the course reckoned her mother got one there, so I went to see.”

“And?”

“They didn’t.”

“Couldn’t you just use an apron? They do in most salons.”

“That’s what I ended up buying, and they did have some of those.”

“I’ve probably got a spare one in the kitchen you could have had.”

“Sorry, I should have asked.”

I shrugged.

“You don’t believe me, do you?”

“Does that matter?” I asked as nonchalantly as I could.

“I don’t know.” She looked at the floor and avoided eye contact with me.

“Frankly, Phoebe, I’m disappointed in you, but that’s only because I thought you were brighter than this.”

“Oh.” She continued perusing the floor for possible help from the carpet.

“I have no authority over you other than laying down what’s acceptable in the house. How you behave outside’s your responsibility, but I think your mum would be disappointed.” I played the guilt trip card.

“Yeah,” she sniffed, “I gotta go.” She fairly fled the field of battle, but it was a pyrrhic victory because I felt lousy too.