The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 3180 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.
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I needed to wee rather urgently but didn’t feel it was safe to leave Danni. Just then Trish came waltzing up the stairs.I called her in. “Sit with your sister for a few minutes, I need to wee.”

“Why’ve I got sit with her?”

“Because I asked you too.”

“Oh all right,” she sighed. I dashed out of the room and weed then called Stephanie who, on being told we had boeuf burguignon told me she’d be right over. Sometimes I wonder about her commitment to her stomach being greater than to her patients.

“Why’ve you been crying?” asked Trish.

“It’s private.”

“Oh that tit at the football club chucked you has he—found out about you did he?” I heard no response. “So I have to sit here to stop you killing yourself, have I?” Still no response. “Well hurry up there’s a cartoon I want to see in about ten minutes.”

“I could always kill you first and then myself.”

“If you look in the mirror, you’ll probably die from shock anyway.”

“What?”

“Take a look, you bear an uncanny resemblance to Kung Fu Panda or a red-eyed raccoon.”

I heard footsteps then, “Oh shit, pass me my makeup wipes will you?”

“I thought you used waterproof.”

“Ran out.”

“But you buy it by the case.”

“So?”

“Yeah, I know, you use it by the case load as well.”

“An’ you don’t?”

“Does it look like it?”

“You don’t cry anyway—psychos never do.”

“You’re only jealous because my mind is on another plane to yours.”

“Yeah, there wouldn’t be room on board for anyone else with your big head.”

“Still gonna kill yourself?”

“Nah—gonna kill you instead,” with that Trish nearly ran into me on the landing and Danielle stopped just outside her bedroom door.

“Watch out,” I said acting as if I’d just appeared.

“Kung Fu Panda’s after me.”

“Okay, go and watch your cartoon.”

“How’d you know I was going to watch a cartoon?”

“I know these things—hop it.”

“Jeez—what I do for peace and quiet,” she muttered as she trotted downstairs.

“Better?”

“I guess.”

“Get changed and come on down and help me in the study.”

“What for?”

“Because I asked you to.”

“I’ve got homework to do.”

“Bring it with you.”

She rolled her eyes. “All right.”

I have to admit Trish is a very smooth operator when she’s on form, when she isn’t she gets it spectacularly wrong as you will probably remember, but sometimes she operate on what seems like an instinctual level and bonds with whoever immediately, knowing just what to say. When I asked her about it she usually dismises it by saying something like, ‘Billie was telling me what to say,’ which is probably what she’d say today, or she shrugs and says, “So I’m a special genius,” and walks away while I want to knock her block off.

While I waited for Danielle to recoat her lashes ninety nine times, I told David we had company coming for dinner so to make sure we had enough. He smiled and nodded which meant he’d already thought of that he also said Trish had told him Dr Cauldwell would almost certainly turn up soon and would stay to eat. If there wasn’t enough, she could have hers as she’d spotted the fresh tub of Häagen Dazs in the freezer. “I told her there was enough food for everyone, her reply was unladylike.”

“That’s my Trish, face of an angel, mouth like a lady of the night—educated variety.” We both laughed and I returned to my study as Danielle came down the stairs with some books under her arm.

“What subjects have you got to do?”

“Only maths.”

“Let me have a look.”

“Why the last time you helped, I lost marks.”

“Ooops,” I blushed, never was my strong point.

“What did you want me to help you with?”

“What?”

“You just wanted to keep an eye on me, didn’t you?”

“I—um,” I felt rather warm.

“It’s okay, I’m not as stupid as you think, just ’cos I’m beautiful don’t mean I’m dumb.”

Only a teenager could say that and I could do with Trish for a snappy retort.

“Fine,” I said at last after my linguistic skills went AWOL.

“Stephanie’s here,” called Stella from the hall.

“What d’you call her for?”

“Because I love you.”

“Jeez—now she’ll think I’m stupid as well.”

“She won’t, she knows you very well and I thought she may be able to give you some advice on...”

“Getting dumped by a twat.”

“That wasn’t the expression I’d have used, but yes.”

She rolled her eyes, “We eating first?”

“We can, why?”

“So I’ve got something to be sick with.”

“Very funny—not.”

Dinner was next and despite her threat, Danielle was not sick, in fact she left her consultation chuckling. “Everything okay?” I asked as I tapped on the door.

“She’s fine, said she over reacted and Trish soon put her in her place.”

I described what I recalled of the conversation I overheard.

“Called her bluff, did she? Little minx.”

“I suppose she did.”

“I’ve told Danielle that I’m going to see her in a couple of days to make sure she’s okay and then weekly for a few weeks.”

“Could she be at risk?”

“I don’t think so.”

“But you’re not sure?”

“It’s not a precise science.”

“I’m sure Trish would give a far funnier retort than I can.”

“Probably, but she couldn’t love anyone more than you do these girls, I wonder if they’ll ever know how lucky they were when they ended up with you.”

“Does it matter?”

“It could—adopted children often have problems as adults when they begin to realise that they’re different to natural children.”

“As I don’t have any of those, it shouldn’t happen.”

“No the universe wanted you to look after some of its waifs and strays.”

“It would have been a lot easier had it got things right with me in the first place then.”

“Not if it wanted you to care for a special category of waif and stray.”

“I thought you were a scientist?” I challenged her.

“No, I’m a psychiatrist—all the black arts—leave the science to you and Trish—well to Trish, anyway.”

“You what?” I gasped and she roared with laughter.

“You are so easy to wind up, Cathy.”

“Bitch.”

“Woof woof,” she snorted.

We were sitting at the table drinking coffee when I noticed Emily wasn’t with her mother.

“Where is she?” I asked.

“What, little Em, my baby sitter was available.”

“Let me pay you for her then.”

“I don’t pay her anything, just let her watch all the DVDs her mum won’t.”

“Not porn?”

“No, Downton Abbey—what d’you think I am?”

I blushed and shrugged simultaneously.

“Mum, you’d better come quick,” gabbled Hannah and rushed out again. My tummy did somersaults as I jumped up and followed her aware Stephanie was behind me. We clattered up the stairs and into the girls’ bedroom—eh? There cowering on the edge of the bed was Livvie with a large house spider sitting watching her and cutting off her escape.

I scooped it off the bed and tossed it out of the window.

“Okay, poppet?”

“Thanks, Mummy, I hate them. It has gone hasn’t it?”

“It’s outside now, can’t hurt you now, not that it could before.”

“I’m impressed,” said Steph as we arrived back in the hall.

“Why, it’s only a female Tegenaria?”

“I wouldn’t have picked it up, not in bare hands.”

“Good job I’m the biologist then, not you.”

“Quite,” she said before packing up her bag and leaving.