The Occasional Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 3240 by Angharad Copyright© 2018 Angharad

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It was evening by the time we returned home after our jaunt to Bristol. Simon suggested getting some CCTV linked to the internet so dashing up there wouldn't be so important and we could look inside and outside without leaving home.

"So anyone living there would be on TV."

"On TV?" he repeated back to me.

"Yes, anyone staying there with cameras inside the house would appear on them. So would we have cameras in the bedrooms and bathroom?"

"No I just meant the hallway and landings and outside."

"Outside perhaps, but not inside, that's like Big Brother."

"Orwell or the reality TV show?"

"Does it matter, it's just so invasive."

"And breaking into your dad's house isn't?"

He had a point but I still felt repulsed by the idea of cameras inside the house, it would be like some institution not a home. However, he'd ordered pizza for everyone but me, I did myself a cheesy jacket potato, well we'd had tuna for lunch. After clearing up the mess, and while Trish and Livvie regaled everyone with tales of derring do as they checked out my house, I escaped to my study and pulled the letters I brought back with me, out of my bag.

Mostly they were enquiries about if I'd like to sell or change my broadband or electricity supplier or similar. Then I came to the handwritten envelope addressed to my dad. It looked like a woman's hand. With the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end, I took the paper knife and slit open the top of the envelope, casually noticing the date stamp as being about two days earlier.

"Dear Derek,
It's been so long that you probably won't remember me, 'Lil ol' Carol' from Carter's Building supplies. I know you are married but I've always admired you--even from afar--and as my time is limited I'd like to say goodbye, for old time's sake.
Alas, I have lymphoma which is in the final stages of destroying my body and it would be nice to see you one last time.
I understand if that is out of the question, but I thought it was worth the effort. If you don't come I'll understand.
Farewell,
Carol Longburton."

I glanced at the date presuming this lady was probably long since departed of this life only to remember that it had been sent just a few days before. I recognised the name of the hospice, it was out towards Bath. The difficulty was what should I do?

Just then Simon entered my study, "What are you hiding away in here for?"

"I'm not hiding, just wanted some quiet to deal with the mail from Bristol."

"Oh okay, anything interesting?"

"Nothing except this." I handed him the letter from my father's admirer. He took it and read the short note in its spidery handwriting, but given the poor woman was dying, understandable.

"Blimey, so your old man was having an affair?"

"I doubt it, Mum would have killed him and he wasn't that sort, far too moral."

"Yeah, but not moral enough not to try and beat his daughter to death."

I shrugged, it was something I'd hoped I'd dealt with and certainly didn't wish to pursue. "I wondered if should go and see her."

"What for--your father's bit on the side."

"I doubt it happened in real life just in her mind."

"What, so a fishing expedition to find out, eh?"

"Don't be ridiculous."

"I'm not, why else should you go, other than curiosity."

"Actually, curiosity is probably the least compelling of my motives."

Simon gasped and then laughed--loudly, the bastard. "You don't expect me to believe that?" When I nodded, he continued, "Seriously?"

"So what other motive could you have?"

"She obviously doesn't know my parents are dead."

"You could write her a letter."

"That would be rather a hard way of doing it."

"Hard, what as in difficult for you, or for her?"

"I can write difficult letters, but depending upon her state, it could be detrimental and I think would be better to come from me face to face."

"Not planning on raising the dead, are we?"

"I don't think I could if I wanted to. I haven't felt any of that stuff near me for a long time."

"Well you do lots for my health, every time I see you it gets my heart pumping..."

"Only because it's all gone to a small part of your body."

"It's not so small now, how about we just lock the door and do it here on the sofa."

"No thank you, perhaps later in bed, but not here--or now."

"Wifey, you are a disappointment."

"So you keep telling me."

"Later then," he went to the door, "just bring a body, I'll do the rest to send you to places of bliss and fulfilment like you have never experienced."

All I could do was to be consumed by a fit of giggles, so over the top was his invitation.

"You mock me, madam."

"No, sir, your pastiche saved me the bother."

"Bah, humbug." He strode off but his echoing chuckle sort of spoiled the apparent indignation, which normally he does so well. Later, he did give a decent attempt to send me to bliss and I won't say I didn't enjoy it, as did he, but I was still thinking about other things and as I went off to sleep, I resolved to go and see this woman if she was still alive.

I explained my situation to Diane the next day and she understood perfectly my desire to meet this woman to break the bad news of my father's death and at the same time tell her that I was sure that had he been able he'd have gone to see her.

I signed the letters she brought me and got on with reading all the junk that was littering my desk finding great satisfaction in consigning much of it to the bin after tearing it to pieces.

Diane appeared with a mug of tea and a biscuit. "She's expecting you after lunch."

Looking up from the mound of paper that still covered my desk, "Who is?"

"Miss Carol Longburton."

I felt myself blushing, "You what?"

"As your secretary I felt it incumbent upon me to make an appointment for you to see this lady before she died because talking to her afterwards may prove somewhat difficult. So I called the hospice, the number was on the top of the letter, and asked if she was well enough to receive a visitor. They said she was and that she'd enjoy seeing you as she didn't get too many of them."

"Where does putting me in difficult situations fall in your job description?"

"If you didn't want to go, you wouldn't have told me, besides the alternative was a meeting with Laughing Arse."

"I don't have anything in my diary for him, I know because it would have a black border to it, like an Edwardian mourning card."

Struggling to suppress a chuckle she retorted, "I told him you were on an errand of mercy visiting an old family friend who was seriously ill and not expected to recover, and thus unable to participate in his latest round of departmental cuts."

Our Vice Chancellor La Fasse, was a nasty, self aggrandising oik and most things would be preferable to a meeting with him, even bearing bad news to a dying old lady. Did I just think that? Oh boy, some choice.

"Can't you phone them and say I'll be there tomorrow, if I can."

"Nuh nuh." She shook her head,"Go and do your duty."

"But I can't killing a Vice Chancellor is against all the protocols of professorship."

"Huh, he doesn't follow protocols, so why not?"

"Seriously? Are you inciting me to acts of violence?"

"Not acts, act--as in one off, boss lady." She nodded at me and winked before disappearing through my office door. Sometimes I wondered who actually ran this department, her or me. I glanced at the clock, it was eleven or just a few minutes past. Too early for lunch but if I went now, I could catch some in a pub on the outskirts of Bath. My body seemed to decide for me and five minutes later I was seating myself behind the wheel of my Jaguar and pressing the starter button. Next stop, the George Inn, Bathampton.