The Weekly Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 3290 by Angharad Copyright© 2021 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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It was several days after my flashback dream when Simon called to say to get Danni to babysit as we were going out that evening and to be ready for seven o'clock. I had just returned from yet another meeting and was trying to read my Ecology journal, I have to keep up to date to remain registered with the CIEEM (Chartered Institute of Ecology and Environmental Management) which means doing so much post-grad work myself. It's often a chore but occasionally something I enjoy crops up.

Feeling tired and irritable after my meeting, even though Daddy chairs it, I still feel defensive trying to prevent the loss of any of the resources I have fought so hard to get for my departments. "I don't feel like going out, I'd rather have a soak in a hot bath."

"It's important, Babes, I need you looking smart and sexy."

"What? Where are we going?" I felt anything but either smart or sexy, more dull and dowdy. I had struggled to read the first article on pesticide use on salmon farms up in Scotland. The stupid morons who run these things don't give a tuppenny damn about the environment and all the things they are poisoning, just to make huge profits on their bloody salmon. They're using imidacloprid which has been banned in the States and the EU. They have a problem with sea lice, which is entirely self-inflicted, caused by having large numbers of fish living in a contained area, so absolute paradise for the lice. Imidacloprid is a neonicotinoids, a horrible poison that attacks the nervous system of its victims and has been shown to badly affect bumblebees as well as many other insects and to then leech into the water and kill off aquatic invertebrates. It's even known to do that from people using it as flea treatments for their stupid mutts or moggies. Or should that be stupid people using it on their dogs and cats?

"It's a surprise, Babes, just look stunning as you always do."

"But I don't want to go out tonight."

"Babes you never want to go out, you need to socialise more. I've taken the liberty of booking you in with our delightful daughters at four, and before you can grumble about collecting the others, David is going to do it. You concentrate on looking gorgeous."

"Where are we going?"

"Out for a meal."

"I gathered that, but where?"

"You'll see."

"How formal is it?"

"Just smart casual, I've gotta go, see you later." He rang off before I could release a whole sentence of frustrations. Instead, I struggled through two articles and then told Diane that I was going home before I killed someone. She nodded and stepped back a pace. She knew to put anyone important through on my mobile. It seems I am important enough not to be able to avoid being contacted when the need arises. I'm sure they even have a clairvoyant signed up to get hold of me in the event of my death.

David made me a cuppa and sandwich while I changed into my cycling kit. An hour's ride might just take away some of my frustrations before I got really crabby. While I was changing, I pulled out a dress that I hadn't worn for ages. It's a Chanel in a green and beige paisley type pattern that stops a few inches above my knees and has a boat neckline and is sleeveless. It will be a little taut across my middle but should be alright if I don't eat too much - not that I feel much like eating anyway.

I took the bike up Portsdown hill and it was a real struggle - yeah, that word is cropping up a lot today, but that's how I feel. It's almost as if I was just starting a period, though we all know that's impossible, but if I were a 'menstruating person' as Harry Potter's creator would label some women, then I'd know I was coming on.

My dosage of oestrogen varies only when I forget to take them, so the idea of cycles is nonsense, but I have kept a diary and discovered that I do have a monthly cycle and I don't mean on a Specialized. So perhaps we all have cycles of sorts and the oestrogen just makes mine more female-like. Probably someone has done a paper on it somewhere.

By the time I got home, I was tired and sweaty and very hot. The weather had suddenly remembered it was supposed to be late spring and forgotten to rain. After another drink, I took a cuppa up to the bathroom and eased myself into a hot, scented bath and promptly fell asleep, awaking when I inhaled a drop of cool bathwater and started coughing. My tea was cold and untouched on the side of the bath. I showered and felt a little better though I still didn't really want to go out.

The girls were home before four and eager to hear where I was going. I couldn't tell them anything because it was unknown to me. "Perhaps you're going for dinner at the Palace?" suggested Livvie. "Nah, that'd be a long dress jobbie," challenged Trish, while Hannah wondered if we were meeting the film star bloke again. That hadn't even entered my head let alone crossed my mind, or what passes for it these days.

Danni kept out of the picture claiming too much homework and not to forget she had to go to Reading tomorrow. So if Simon had told her anything she was keeping it very quiet. She's a real conundrum at times, I remember when she first came to our house and hurt in the eye and she and Trish went from enemies to firm friends and I almost had to prise out of her that she had recognised Trish and they had talked and she'd promised to tell no one, not even me. So even then, at age nine or ten, she had a moral compass and wasn't at all like the notoriety she had as trouble. As a boy, she had a strong sense of justice and got into fights over Billie, her adopted sister and as a girl, or should I say young woman, she was rather beautiful and bound by her sense of right and wrong. I loved her to bits like I do all my girls, but I also admired her integrity.

I'd called Julie and she and Phoebe came over for their dinner giving me a makeover before they dined. I got a hairdo and my makeup was done, which I told them to keep light or I'd wipe it all off. I don't like much makeup and I was serious. I ended up with my eyes looking a bit more dramatic than my day wear and some blusher to highlight my cheekbones, which I thought were prominent enough.

Apparently, with the Covid restrictions, all Phoebe and Julie could do was hairdressing, so my makeover, would have been against the law in the salon, but not at home. I went and dressed and felt quite smart. I would take my pashmina, an angora wool one to keep me warm coming home.

At six, Si was home and up in the shower, I was busy helping Hannah with her homework. She was doing something on palaeontology as a project and wanted information on dinosaurs. We ended up in my library locating a few books for her to copy a drawing from - she's quite good at drawing.

At seven we left in Simon's F type and were halfway to Salisbury before I recognised where we were going. "Why are we going to Salisbury?"

"You'll see."

"Had I known we were coming here I could have arranged to see Siân and Kirsty."

"I thought after your dream the other night and her part in causing the problem, she'd be the last person you'd want to see."

"It wasn't deliberate."

"You only have her word for that, she could have been doing self-harm by proxy."

"Come off it, Si, she wasn't like that."

"But she admitted herself she was almost as screwed up as you were as a schoolgirl."

"We both had issues to resolve I agree, but I don't think she was particularly screwed up, not compared to me, she just needed to understand and integrate her sexuality."

"Didn't you have to do the same?" he asked as he drove towards the ancient city.

"I did once I sorted out who I was."

"I think you knew who you were by the time you were a small child, playing dress up in nursery, playing the BVM in junior school, being Lady Macbeth and a schoolgirl, didn't that give you some strong hints?"

"Si, okay, I knew I was female when I was young, the problem is I didn't have the experience, resources or understanding to deal with it. Only exceptional children do."

"Like Trish?"

"Yes, like Trish, most of us tend to learn what makes us appear vulnerable and hide it. In my case until I was able to deal with it, some never make it, or do it so late they miss out on much of their lives or look very masculine. I was so lucky."

"Weren't you. But I feel a slight resentment that you missed out on so much of your formative years."

"Yeah, I suppose I do resent that, learning how to be a girl, deal with boys as the opposite sex, form friendships with other girls. I missed out on much of that."

"You have great friendships with other women, and I think you deal with men quite well, too. So you seem to have caught up on much of your earlier omissions."

"Maybe." What was all this about anyway, and why were we talking about me, I'm sure his life was more interesting than mine, hiding in the shadows much of the time.

"Here we are," he pressed the indicator arm on the steering wheel and turned into the car park of a rather nice looking restaurant. I think this was my first time in one since the lockdown started.

Simon announced who we were and also told the waiter we were expecting company, who would ask for him when they arrived. He gave his name simply as Simon Cameron. I was addressed as Mrs Cameron and we were led to our table, which was in a cosy corner without being too close to any other tables. Perhaps he was doing business, so what I was there for passed me by. He handed me the keys to his Jaguar and told me I would be driving home as he intended to have a couple of drinks. That was hardly a surprise. I ordered a lime and soda and went off to the ladies to wee and check my makeup and hair as our mysterious visitor hadn't yet arrived.

I washed my hands, powdered my nose and gave myself a quick spray of Coco, well it seemed apposite with my dress, and walked back to our table. I saw the back of a man sitting talking to Simon. Our guest, I presume.

They both stood as I returned to the table and I nodded my acknowledgement of their politeness. "Cathy, my wife, this is Paul Simmonds, who is in banking as well."

I felt a cold shiver go through me as I regarded the man before me. Could it be the same person I knew in school, a lifetime ago? A cursory glance just showed me he was tall, dark and handsome like the boy I knew, but most of us change over twenty years, usually for the worst and let's face it, I've changed more than most people, though mainly in the shape of my body rather than my face.

"Where are you from?" I asked Paul.

"Bristol originally, but I live here in Salisbury now. I miss the sea but otherwise, Salisbury is a nice place to live."

"It's a lovely city," I agreed.

"How long were you in Bristol, Paul?" asked Simon.

"I left there about ten years ago, though I suppose going to Manchester University meant that I was ready to spread my wings a bit before that."

I saw the wedding ring on his left hand, so he was married, but then so was I and my husband was sitting next to me. "You didn't bring your wife?" I observed.

"No, she's gone off to her mother's with the kids, the first opportunity they've had in about a year."

"Of course with the dreaded virus," I nodded as I spoke.

"Have you any children?" he asked casually.

I'm never quite sure how to answer. Officially, I have ten including the older adoptees, like Julie, Phoebe and Sammi. When I say I have ten, people either gasp or roll their eyes. "Yes, we have a houseful of girls."

"I've got two boys, Jon and Angus, my wife's a Scot."

"Aye ye cannae beat them," said Simon in the worst Lallans I'd heard him say for a long time. "We're both Scots, at least by birth."

"Really, you don't sound it, though I suppose Cameron is a Scots name. What was your maiden name, Cathy?"

"Watts."

"Oh, another Scots name."

"Yes," I blushed, he now had enough information to work out who I could be.

"So if you didn't like in Scotland, where did you live? I'm assuming you didn't stay in Scotland because you have no accent."

Another piece of the pie fell into place as I admitted I too had lived in Bristol. He looked at me wide-eyed, "Goodness, what a coincidence. Which part?" I told him and he looked at me more earnestly. "You didn't go to Bristol Grammar, did you?"

"Give the gentleman a coconut," said Simon beaming.

"Jesus aitch Christ," said Paul and then went silent though his eyes were examining me in fine detail.

"This wasn't my idea," I said blushing and instead of ordering, I felt quite sick.

"But it was Charlotte in school?" said Paul.

"I chose to become Catherine instead. New start, new name."

"It suits you, Cathy. I take it you've um sorted..."

"Yes."

"She's all woman, Paul, believe me." Why is Simon there when you don't need him and never when you do?

"I'm flabbergasted, I really am. You were pretty in school, but wow, you're absolutely beautiful."

"I was fortunate that I was androgen insensitive, so never really became male and when I started on oestrogens, I had a female puberty and I haven't looked back."

The waiter interrupted our discussion and we ordered. I had a seafood cocktail and tuna bake, Si had pate and game pie, and Paul had soup and an omelette.

"Remember that date we had when that idiot Murray made you dress as a girl for that month."

"I do, it was very kind of you to ask me out, though I'm never sure what you thought about it afterwards?"

"I thought about it lots of times and cursed myself for not having had the bottle to ask you again. It was obvious you were a girl, but Murray couldn't see it so hooked on his homophobia was he. I wanted to ask you out more but I was worried about what they'd say if we were seen together. I'm sorry, I let you down." He blushed and was saved by the waiter returning with our starters.

"You didn't let me down, Paul. I thought it was very brave of you to have asked me in the first place. I wasn't disappointed," I lied, "that you didn't ask me again, as I understood the risks you were taking."

"I fancied you like mad." He seemed to have forgotten that my rather large husband was sitting with us.

"I liked you too, Paul." I blushed back.

"Lady Cameron, there's a message for you." The waiter handed me a note. ' Mum, will you switch your bloody phone on? D.'

"Problems, Babes?" asked Si as I excused myself and took my mobile from my bag. I hadn't realised it was off. Fortunately, I finished my starter as when I returned they were bringing our main courses.

"Everything okay?" asked Simon as he and Paul sat down again.

"Yes, Danielle wanted to know something and she wanted me to remind you you'd agreed to take her to Reading tomorrow."

"Oh she's playing is she?"

"No, it's a training thing."

Paul looked at us as if we were talking code. "Sorry, our daughter, Danielle has a training session at Reading, she plays soccer."

"Who for?" he asked and I waited for the aftershock once I told him.

"She's transferring from Portsmouth to Reading, but this is part of her England commitment."

"She plays for England?" he asked with a surprised look on his face, "Schoolgirls?"

"No, she plays for the Lionesses, I think they call the senior women's team."

"Your daughter is a soccer international? How old is she?"

"Sixteen."

"And did the waiter address you as Lady Cameron?"

"That's his fault," I pointed at Simon, "it was part of the compensation scheme for marrying him."

"Hey," said Simon, obviously never hearing me say that particular joke before.

Paul looked shocked and said, "You're Lord Cameron, Henry's son?"

"That's me, though I may not repeat it in court," smiled Simon, finally being the centre of the conversation.

"Stroll on," sighed Paul, "Any other surprises before I go into complete shock?"

"Cathy's Professor of the Faculty of Science at Portsmouth University." Simon almost purred as he said it, "And Environmental Director of High Street Bank plc."

"Talk about overachievers, and there's me thinking I was doing all right as a regional manager for Southern England, RBS."

"You are doing fine, Paul, I have just been a bit lucky, that's all." I smiled and felt for him, we must seem a bit overwhelming at times.

"Yeah, only 'cause my sister tried to kill her..." Simon just has this way with words, they can exit his mouth without having any contact with his brain whatsoever. Paul just looked aghast at him but Simon carried on like it was an everyday occurrence.

"She knocked me off my bicycle," I said which eased Paul's shocked look.

"So it was an accident, then?"

"Yes, luckily she's a nurse so I was okay."

"My wife is a nurse," said Paul.

"Oh, in what?"

"Intensive care."

"Stella's in urology," I said.

"Yeah, she plays with prostates all day long," Simon was well into his schoolboy mode.

Finishing the main course, I asked Simon, "I wondered if there was a business element to this meal?"

"There is, did you get the stuff I sent you, Paul?"

"Yes, but I haven't had a chance to read it yet."

"That's fine, let me know what you think and if you're interested."

"Of course."

It was only after we'd left and I was driving home that I asked Simon what it was all about. He'd apparently searched for and found Paul and was delighted to see he was in banking. As the High Street Bank's regional manager had left, they were needing someone to replace him. As I'd said he was a nice boy, or he'd been so to me, Simon sent him an email asking him if he might be interested in applying for the vacancy. He was.

I wasn't sure what I thought about it all and wondered if Simon just wanted to have a look at him given his previous friendship with me, and also to see what effect meeting me as I now am would have on him. I was also unsure of how I felt about having him working for the same bank of which I was a director and Simon his boss. It might be okay for them but was it for me? Something else to cogitate about, thanks, Si, but at least I got to drive his 'fighter jet', which this car was like, Stella will be livid.