The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 3130 by Angharad Copyright© 2017 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.

“I suppose I could just give them the money,” I said as I was clearing up the dishes from lunch, referring to the matter of the mortgage, of which they’d spoken to Simon, last night.

“I didn’t know you had that much disposable income?”

“I don’t, I might have to sell some shares.”

“Not bank shares, I hope.”

“Why not?”

“The capital gains tax you’d pay is enormous.”

“Oh.”

“Also wouldn’t you be setting an unwise precedent? What if one of the others wanted buy somewhere, would you pay for that too?”

“Okay, so it wasn’t the greatest idea.”

“You’d also be depriving them of the joys of working for their first self owned home.”

“All right, I said it was a bad idea, what did you have to offer?”

“A well priced mortgage and something towards the deposit they’d need.”

“How much is the flat?

“I think she said about fifty thousand.”

“Is that one or two beds?”

“Two bedrooms, bathroom, kitchenette and lounge. There’s a covered parking space and a small garden which has a wooden shed.”

“What no library?”

“Not every woman is as academic as you, Catherine Cameron, nor do they have a bike repair shed nor indeed, a garage in which to deposit the bat mobile.”

“Now that I don’t believe, especially as Julie now sports a Jaguar of her own.”

“Of whose own?” he challenged.

“So you helped her with that.”

“Just a bit.”

“Now who’s setting precedents?”

“Bloody women will be the ruin of me.”

“No, dearest, it only takes one of us.” I smiled falsely at him.

“I suppose that is your role?”

I smiled again.

“Et tu, wifey.”

“No et anything, I can do it all by myself, darling.”

“ET phone home,” he said which made us both burst out laughing.

“Can I go to town, Mummy?” asked Danielle who’d come into the kitchen.

“What for?”

“Just to hang out with the girls from school, two or three of them will be there.” Given the advice I’d offered last night about getting support from friends if her story broke.

“Okay, but be back for dinner.”

“What time is that?”

“Six o’clock.”

We all glanced at the clock which was showing just about two in the afternoon.

Simon held out his hand, palm down and she put hers under it only to receive twenty pounds. “Wow, thanks, Daddy,” she hugged him and pecked him on the cheek. It was all theatrics for his benefit.

“Don’t tell the others or I may just find I have a previous engagement tomorrow.”

“I won’t, Daddy.” She pecked him again and ran off before I could say anything.

“Can I go to town, Daddy?” I asked holding out my hand.

“No, but we could go to bed, wee wifey.”

“Feeling tired are you, well you go for a lie down I have some marking to do.” I didn’t but he didn’t know that, it was just not feasible to keep the others away for a couple of hours and besides I didn’t fancy it on top of a meal, from which I still felt rather full and was likely to fall asleep myself.

“Okay, I’ll give her a lift into town.”

“While you’re out can you get another thick sliced wholemeal loaf and a six pinter of milk?”

“Just a glorified messenger boy,” he muttered as he went to call Danielle from upstairs.

“She’s applying another ten coats of mascara,” I said to no one in particular.

“She’s what?” he barked from the kitchen door.

“Doing her makeup, you ought to know that no girl her age would be seen dead without it.”

“Were you like that?” he asked turning away before I could answer as Danielle appeared.

“Bye, Mummy,” she shouted and they both went off to get in his car. Cate came into the kitchen and my mind went back to the day her father and sister went away from here and never returned. I’d told her the story several times and shown her the pictures, I decided to do so again.

I took her with me into my study and shut the door getting the photo album I’d made of pictures of her original family. “Who’s this?” I pointed to a photo of her as a baby, quite a new born with her real mum.

“Me,” she said smiling.

“And who’s the lady holding you?”

“You,” she shrieked.

“That lady looks nothing like me. That’s your real mummy.”

“The one who asked you to adopt me?”

“Yes, you were only a baby then.” I recalled the day we found them, Maria Drummond dead in her wedding dress and Cate lying in her cot in the other room. It was one of the saddest moments of my life and gave Trish nightmares for weeks. I still had the original letter in Maria’s hand in a special envelope in my drawer.

“Lady died.”

“Your mother died, yes. She was a very lovely lady.”

“You my mother now, doan wanna see no more photos, you’re my Mummy.” She burst into tears and ran off. Obviously not the best time to remind her of her origins but at least she knew the outline and she would never be able to claim she didn’t know her history if ever we had a serious row when she’s a teenager.

I sat down at my desk and booted up my laptop, then decided I’d go and make myself some tea in the hope it would help me concentrate on some work.

“Mummy, come quick,” called a voice I think was Hannah’s. I raced up the stairs to be pointed into the second children’s room which Cate and Lizzie shared. Trish was in there trying to stop Cate from trashing the room. This was a new reaction to being told she was adopted.

I told Trish that I’d sort it and thanked them all for their vigilance. I saw the broken porcelain vase that came from her mother’s house. She’d regret that when she was older. Five is too young to be able to cope with such huge issues which was why I wanted her to have grown up with them, so they didn’t hold any fear for her. Seems I got it wrong.

Picking up all the pieces of the vase I could find I placed them safely on a chest of drawers. There was a place somewhere that could do repairs, I’d look later and if I could get it fixed, would put it away safe until she was old enough to understand its true value.

“What am I going to do with you, missy?”

“Nothin’, you not my mummy no more.”

The afternoon was going to get somewhat more interesting if exhausting.

It took me an hour to repeat what she already knew, that all my children were adopted because either their mothers had asked me to look after them, Meems, Livvie and Cate herself, or had needed someone to look after them as their mother.

She did lots of crying and shouting at me while I just held her and apologised for upsetting her, telling her I loved her as much as I could my own baby and that I had actually breast fed her myself, the finer points were lost on her but I tried to show her she was special to me.

When I went down to the kitchen having calmed her down, Simon said, “Oh there you are, sloping off while I’ve been bringing home the bacon.” I didn’t hit him but it was very close.