The next morning was Saturday and I was absolutely shattered. Simon had had his wicked way and I was quite right, he’d farted and fallen asleep, not that it worried me too much, I was too tired to care about much and I was almost asleep before him.

However, I didn’t sleep that well. I don’t know if it was the change of bed, from mine in Bristol, or what. I suppose it could have been Simon’s snoring, or maybe it was me–I really don’t know what kept me awake after three.

I’d woken up needing a pee, and had managed to wriggle out from under Simon, and do the necessary. While in the loo I had a little wash, so maybe that woke me up, but I went back to bed and stayed awake for the next three or four hours.

Simon eventually got up and went down for some breakfast, whereas I, went back to sleep. He woke me about ten, I was tired and irritable. He finally got the message and I slept until midday.

I staggered downstairs in my nightie and thin housecoat, Tom was sitting in the lounge reading his newspaper. “Oh, hello. On the afternoon shift are you?”

“Oh don’t, Tom, my head is splitting enough as it is.” I looked around with my still sleepy eyes. “Where’s Simon?”

“I have no idea, why, were you expecting him this weekend?”

“What! He was here last night, he even washed up for me. Geez, he even made love to me.”

“Cathy, he isn’t here nor was he last night.”

“You’re winding me up, aren’t you?”

“No. No I’m not. You came here yesterday and were very tired. You said you didn’t feel very well. I helped you unload the car. You went up to change you said, and when you didn’t come down, I went up to see where you were. You were in your bed and fast asleep. You have just come from there now.”

“But, Tom, he made love to me–at least I think he did, he spoke to me this morning but I refused to wake up. Surely, I didn’t dream it, did I?”

“I don’t know but you’ve slept for about eighteen hours, so you must have done.”

“How come you didn’t wake me?”

“I assumed you needed the sleep, which it looks as if you did.”

“So any news on Stella?”

“Not that I’ve heard.”

“He told me she was coming home for the weekend next weekend.”

“If that was the case shouldn’t he have told me, as well?”

“It must have all been in my dream, it just seemed so real.” I shivered, maybe Stella’s illness was contagious, was I going loopy as well?

“How about a cuppa?” said Tom, “Have some coffee, it might wake you up.”

“I don’t know, Tom, not the way you drink it.”

“Go on it’ll put hairs on your ches–um, okay, I’ll do yours a bit weaker.”

“Yeah, weak and watery like me.” I slumped in the armchair and next thing I know I’m asleep, or rather he was waking me up. I think it was real this time, the coffee was still as strong as swamp water, and it made me cough.

“Are you all right? Perhaps we should call the doctor?” I didn’t hear anything else, I was off again. I woke up some while later lying on the sofa with a blanket over me.

“How did I get here?” I asked, puzzled by the fact that I was in my nightdress.

“You fell asleep in the chair, I simply moved you over to the sofa. Any more strange dreams?”

“Strange dreams?” I looked at him wondering what he was on about.

“Yes, you were telling me that Simon was here last night, when in fact he wasn’t.”

“Did I? What time is it?” I asked yawning.

“Six.”

“What, in the evening?”

“Yes, why?”

“I was just wondering if I should go and change. I almost feel like going back to bed.”

“Why don’t you then?”

“I might not sleep tonight, and tomorrow is Saturday, and I have things to do.”

“No, tomorrow is Sunday. It’s Saturday now, and you’ve slept through most of it.”

“What? I’ve slept a whole day?”

“Yes. Look, Cathy, you’ve had a lot to cope with recently, so maybe your body is simply taking some time off.”

“Goodness, my throat feels sore,” I croaked.

“I hate to say this girl, but your face looks a bit swollen. You could have mumps.”

“Oh no,” I groaned, “it could make me infertile if it causes orchitis.”

Tom laughed, “I think it might be a bit late for that, young lady.”

“Oh yeah,” I said and winked at him.

“I think we’d better call the doctor tomorrow, just in case.”

“That’s all I need,” I wailed, “I came back to see you and Simon and to go back to work.”

“We can ask the doctor to give you a certificate, can’t see you back to work in under two weeks, if then. I think you need a holiday or a complete rest. I suspect your body agrees with me.”

“That is just so unfair,” I said and began to cry. Tom came and cuddled me. “Aren’t you afraid of catching this?” I sobbed to him.

“Not really, I had it as a kid, besides, for my girl, I’d risk anything.” I’m afraid that just made me howl even more. I think I must have fallen asleep because he woke me a little later with some scrambled eggs and a drink. It was nice he was spoiling me, but I didn’t really want anything to eat. I did manage to get down a couple of mouthfuls, but it was tasteless and my throat was sore. I drifted off to sleep and dropped the tray, he had to clean up the mess helped by Kiki.

Eventually, he helped me up to bed and once again I slept all night and part of the morning. I was awakened by Tom announcing the arrival of the doctor. He checked me out and confirmed the diagnosis. I had mumps or parotitis an infection of the parotid glands by the mumps virus.

He gave me some antibiotics and told me to rest for a couple of weeks. Me–rest? I had to, I was too weak to move very far at all. What a weird weekend that was.