The Weekly Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 3307 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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The rest of the weekend flew by but we all gave Mima a bit of extra love and at bedtime, she seemed over most of her anxiety. She had become a little anxious while she was out with Simon as he left her in the car while he popped an envelope through the letterbox of the main branch of High Street in Portsmouth. He told me about it later and the way he'd dealt with it.

When Mima started to weep because he was leaving her, he reassured her that he'd be in sight the whole time and that he would be back in a trice. When he got back, he gave her a cuddle and she burst into tears, saying that she thought he was going to abandon her. He told her he wasn't and that both of us, as her parents had told her that.

"I know, Daddy, but I just get this panic and I can't think or get out of it."

"What would you say if Trish or Cate had the same panic?"

"I'd tell them, not to worry because you'd never leave them or hurt them."

"And what d'you think they'd say to you if you were the one panicking?"

"Pretty much the same, though Trish would probably add, you nit, on the end of it."

He chuckled, "I think you could b e right there, she does tend to give you the benefit of her opinion whether you asked for it or not."

Mima laughed adding, "She's just so clever, she frightens me sometimes."

"Yes, she is pretty clever, but then you don't do so bad yourself, do you?"

"I'm pretty dumb compared to her."

"Hmm," said Simon rubbing his chin, "remind me where you came at the end of year exams in your class."

"Um," she blushed, "I was joint top in our year."

"And that was across the whole range of subjects?"

"Yes, Daddy."

"I think that's pretty good going, don't you?"

"Trish and Livvie helped me with some of the maths and science revision."

"As I would expect from them being older, in the same way we expect you to help Cate and Lizzie if they need it."

"I do already, Daddy."

"Good girl, right now wipe your eyes and nose and let's go and do the shopping your mother asked me to get." They sped off to Sainsbury's and after parking, they walked into the store with their arms linked. Instead of his usual habit of going directly for the things he went in there for, he headed for their clothing range. "See if there's anything that takes your eye, kiddo." Meems didn't need a second telling and rushed in and out of the lines of clothing, selecting several items that she went to try for fit. She liked all of them and he told her to choose her three favourites and he bought them for her.

"What about the others?" she asked coyly.

"You got three, how many more did you want?"

"No the others, my sisters?"

"Tell them it was a reward for coming top of the year."

"Trish and Livvie did, too - of their year."

"What about Hannah?"

"She was a bit further down."

"Hmm," Simon scratched his chin again. "Can't you sneak it into the house, tell them it's groceries or sanitary wear."

"What like toilet rolls?"

"Er, no like sanny pads."

"They wouldn't believe me."

"Damn, what d'you think they'd like?"

"I'm not sure, Daddy, we all have different tastes."

Fearing he was being outmanoeuvred by a twelve year old, which he was, he pulled out his mobile and called me. I nearly choked as I'd just taken a swig of tea. "Get them some fancy tights, Mima knows their sizes because they tend to borrow each others." I could hear him speaking to Mima and he told me they'd do that, how many pairs? I told him two or three each and not to forget Cate and Lizzie.

I think he ended up spending fifty quid on various pairs of tights which Mima chose for her sisters. She'd got the best of the deal but I knew there'd be no jealousy because they all do very well most of the time and I once heard Danielle telling off her sisters, "Think you're hard done by, do you? Well, think again because where you were before you were adopted by Mum and Dad wouldn't have given half the stuff you have now nor the amount of love they give us, so in other words, stop being such little shits."

Our Danni doesn't mince words. I was actually very proud of her because she was filling the role of big sister, really well. Julie had shown her a few of the ropes but Danni was better than her big sister, possibly because there wasn't such an age gap between her and the younger ones compared to Julie and Danni. Or maybe I have it all wrong and she just is better at it, some people are. It's funny because when I was little all I wanted was a sister and to be one myself, but it didn't happen. What would have happened, had I had a brother instead, I dread to think, especially seeing David and his brother together. Then again sisters can be pretty nasty as well, boys don't have the monopoly on it and not all boys or men are bad or violent, nor are all girls and women angels, I've met some real demons in my time, especially when they find out you're different.

I remember being out with Siân one day and although I wasn't actually dressed as a girl, my very long hair and relatively fine features as well as smaller stature tended to encourage people to address me as a girl. Siân was well aware of my girly tendencies and played along with enthusiasm.

We were shopping in Bristol at the Horsefair when we encountered several girls from the girls' school, where she attended, while I went to the boy's. "Who's your friend Griffiths?" asked the biggest of them, a girl a year above us.

"What's it to you?" she fired back and we went to walk away. However, two or three of them blocked off our escape route.

"Come on, Griffiths, what's her name?" they approached us even closer and the bully said loudly, "Or could it be a boy? That girly boy who sucks dicks in the sixth form toilets according to what my brother tells me."

"Piss off," said Siân and we tried to push our way through the gang, but they pushed back.

"Ooh, touched a nerve have we?"

"What's your brother's name?" I said standing firm against them, because if he's one of my clients, then that makes him as queer as me, doesn't it?"

The look I got back would have stripped paint off a door, "He's no effing queer like you, you shit bag."

"He must be, boys who do it with other boys are bachelors gay," I said smirking, feeling Siân squeezing my hand very tightly.

"I didn't say he did it with you, you...you effing queer."

"In which case you are reporting hearsay evidence which is not admissible in court and you're also slandering me in front of witnesses, so if I were you I'd take your silly, slanderous mouth and go back under the rock from whence you crawled, and for the record, I'm not homosexual," I wrapped my arm around Siân adding, "unless you consider I'm lesbian, because she's my girlfriend,. Good day, potty mouth." With that I pushed through them pulling Siân along with me, while they stood gold-fishing and apparently speechless.

A little later, when she'd stopped shaking, she looked at me and asked, "Can you be a lesbian if you're a boy?"

"Do you think I'm a boy?" I asked her back, knowing that we'd discussed the fact that I didn't think I was.

"No, no I don't. You realise what happened will be all over the school tomorrow?"

"You think that worries me? There are so many rumours flying around the place, all of them wrong, and so many enemies who think I'm gay, one more is neither here nor there. Who was that gargoyle anyway?"

Siân fell about laughing, "Gargoyle, what a brill description of her, I'll put a note in the girl's bogs to that effect. She's Melanie Stamp and her brother's..."

"Not Terence, but Timothy, a right arsewipe."

"You know him, then?"

"Oh I know our Tim, he did try it on and swung a punch at me but I pulled the door open and it he hit that, broke his hand. He hasn't been a problem since though it seems he's spreading malicious gossip is he? I expect I'll live."

"What if he attacks you again with some of his friends?"

"I get a few more bruises," as we weren't overlooked I lifted up my top and showed her the latest collection.

"Jeez, Charlie, can't they stop that happening, it can't do you any good? Can't your parents do anything?"

"Some of those are from my parents, well, my dad. He'd probably get on quite well with potty mouth."

"Oh, Charlie, I wish there was something I could do to help," she said in her soft Welsh accent.

"You do, in world where few dare to stand near me, let alone be associated with me, a true friend is a great asset."

"You say the nicest things, girlfriend," she said and pecked me on the cheek.

I'm not sure if the warmth I felt at that moment was worth the bruises I did collect and it would have been worse if Mr Whitehead hadn't seen what was going on and broke up the assault. I got a black eye and a split lip as well as other facial bruising when darling Tim stamped on my face after one of his friends pushed me to the ground. Thankfully they didn't break my nose.

I got my own back six months later when I spotted him shoplifting in a department store and reported him to one of the staff. He was stopped and challenged and they found the bottle of perfume in his pocket. He got prosecuted but got off with a caution as a first offence. He also walked into a door, that I was going through. It was amazing that he didn't seem to see me until the door hit him in the nose and that did break. No one, especially old Murray would believe it was an accident, which it was, but I got detention for a week and my parents got a letter to say any further violence towards my fellow pupils would result in my suspension. The only reason it didn't was that Macbeth was looming on the horizon and they couldn't suspend me and have me star in their play. Perhaps I should have hit someone else, deliberately this time, I had plenty of provocation. But I wasn't a violent person by nature, not until I had children to protect and the rest they say is history.

You could say I've had an interesting life and sadly so many in my position, even today, get attacked or verbally abused simply for existing and even if we're not actually interacting with the abusers except as being recipients of the abuse. We seem to be living in a world where those who use violence feel justified, though without any evidence to prove it. There also seems to be so much anger about and perhaps some of those, especially young men, are unable to express their anger except by violence and aggression. It's very sad, and no one seems to be doing anything about it.

Violence against women worldwide seems on the increase, most but not all, perpetrated by men, often ones in a relationship with the victim or from a previous one. Women, are quite rightly, protesting very loudly about the lack of protection from attackers. I don't know what the answer is, but education and keeping young men busy with work must help and I think we also have to bear in mind that, those who attack women or other men, are a minority, in the UK, most men are fine and often as shocked as women by the violence shown by the minority, but we need their cooperation to prevent the minority from causing the problems and to help educate the problem group that violence is very rarely justified and that everyone deserves some degree of respect regardless of what or whoever they are.