The Weekly Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 3360 by Angharad Copyright© 2022 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 legs ached even after a warm shower but David's roast lamb with all the trimmings was heavenly. I ate so much I was in danger of falling asleep with a belly full of dinner and the effects of one glass of Merlot my eyes kept wanting to close.

"We met a crook on our ride today didn't we, Mummy," said our very own football star.

"Eh?" I was such a natural conversationalist.

"Francesca's dad, you as good as called him a gangster," added Danni.

"Who's Francesca? " asked Simon.

"A girl who was abandoned by her boyfriend in a car park up on the downs. I was going to loan her the taxi fare."

"That would have been a bit steep, outside Pompey and on a Sunday," Simon gave his opinion.

"Well, I couldn't do nothing, we couldn't leave her to walk home, especially as she was wearing shoes that had four-inch heels."

"So, what happened."

"She decided her dad would be back from golf, so she phoned him and he came and got her."

"Yeah, so?"

"Well, he only turned out to be George Davidson, " I dropped my bombshell.

"I'd keep well away from him, they never found his partner did they, probably looked under the wrong motorway," said Simon with a touch of glee.

"What's all that about?" asked Danni.

Just as Simon was about to hold forth I reminded him that we could be there until tea time if he didn't exercise some brevity. "Right, edited highlights. George was in partnership with a bloke called Tony Allen, they had a number of small businesses like second-hand cars and reputedly some drug supplies on the QT. They hit a bad spot, possibly because the Customs and Excise people caught up with them and Tony, who was the senior partner, just disappeared. All the blame was borne by Tony because he couldn't defend himself, and a large amount of money disappeared with him. High Street took the loss, about two million quid, so we'd love to find out where Tony is and what happened to our money, he'd borrowed it a week or two before he disappeared. As it was down as a personal business loan, we couldn't touch George for it and he still claims his innocence, although everyone believes he offed Tony and kept the money.

"He's done well for himself and is apparently quite a good businessman but when you add drugs and prostitution or people trafficking he's making a nice little earner and because he's earning quite a lot from his legit business he manages to launder money from other sources, which might not be so legit, through his books. He uses the most creative accountants in London to make sure he seems to stay on the level. But we won't touch him anymore so he has to use a private bank in Soho."

"So you think he killed his partner? Couldn't he have slipped abroad somewhere and disappeared to South America or something?" asked Danni, never having heard the story before.

"We employed private detectives to find him, which cost us a hundred K or so, they didn't find hint nor hair of him, he just disappeared into thin air, which would happen if he was killed and disposed of under a motorway or dumped in a deep quarry. There's a reward of fifty thou for finding the money or a conviction on him, as far as I know, it's still extant."

"So Francesca's dad could be a murderer?" reasoned Danni.

"Yeah, so why did you invite her on a dormouse survey next week?"

"Well, how was I to know? besides she hasn't killed anyone has she?"

"I hope not," I said now wide awake and needing a cuppa.

"Aw, come on, Mummy, she's only a kid like me, I haven't killed anybody."

"I should hope not," I said bustling out to make some tea.

"I leave that to you," was said very quietly and I suspect very regretfully.

"What did you say? said Simon in a loud voice.

"Nothing, it was nothing."

"Just remember your mother only shot those men because they were trying to kill her and she was protecting herself and others. You know all this."

"Great," I thought, "I'll have nightmares for days now." I made the tea but suddenly it all back, bashing the woman with a bottle and throwing the whisky Molotov cocktail and then finally shooting those three guys by the loch. I did it then thought about it afterwards. I found out later the copper who got wounded but survived because I killed those men, and had a wife who was newly pregnant. Accidentally, I gave him a chance to become a father. I'd heard he left the police shortly afterwards. I don't blame him.

"I did say sorry," Danni insisted. Perhaps she did, but I didn't hear it, possibly because Simon was shouting.

"So you should, she was found not guilty by a coroner's court by reason of acting in self-defence. Besides she saved Grandpa's life when that Russian woman was going to kill him and broke her collarbone in the struggle that ensued."

"I know, I know," she said, " I did say I was sorry."

"Well say it to your Mum, not to me," Simon instructed.

"I'm sorry, Mummy, I didn't mean to say it," she sobbed into my previously dry shirt.

"Okay, sweetheart, I forgive you."

"Remember the difference between what your mother did and George Davidson is that she acted for the common good, he acted for his own greed," said Simon loudly.

The rest of the week flew by I was so busy and our three university students discovered that there can be a load of reading attached to higher education. Trish asked me how I stayed awake when I did my degree. I just laughed and told her that was nothing compared to a doctoral thesis. I lost count of the papers I worked through, all while looking after Simon and Daddy and Stella plus various children. I don't think I could do it now. Danni and Sarah being in the first year of biological science - it gives us more scope than pure biology - worked together. Sarah found it easy as she had covered much of it in tutorials with Debbie but she happily shared her expertise with Danni who struggled with the introductory stuff, it was boring but we have to ensure they learn it because the later stuff requires that they know it so they can deal with the more complex stuff afterwards.

Anyway, that Saturday morning at just before 9.00 am found us knocking on the door of George Davidson's mansion and waiting while she went in search of her anorak - there were showers about. She had on a pair of Dr Martin's boots which didn't impress me as they were good shoes but we needed walking boots with cleated soles, the woods can be very slippery even with them. We had to wait while she changed her footwear which gave her father time to engage with us, a situation I wasn't wishing to encourage. I'd told Danni to keep quiet about who we were as I didn't want to encourage the acquaintance.

We talked about the weather and political situation in very general terms and we left without him knowing which way I voted except he quite astutely suggested as I was a university teacher that I probably supported remain in the referendum and was probably not a Tory supporter. I didn't give him the benefit of answering his questions and rushing off to meet the others. I didn't tell Francesca off because she was an absolute novice as dormouse wrestling.

We met up with the others, there were ten in all and we had two hundred nest boxes to check. We went to the first one and Jordan a relative regular, almost a veteran, showed everyone how to check a nest box if there was a nest inside we'd take it off the tree, put it carefully into a big, clear plastic bag, and check its contents. It involves checking inside the box and if anything pops out, we remove the box and lid and have a quick check of what we have. It's often a wood mouse, occasionally pygmy shrew or as some people have reported a toad. Though I haven't seen one of those but we have had brown long-eared bats, tree bumblebees and loads of blue tit's nests.

This time the first living thing we had was a snail. That was followed by a wood mouse which I quickly pulled out of the bag so everyone could see it and before it peed in the bag and made the bag hostile to dormice. It seems that wood mice are quite incontinent and often pee in your bag, which if you only have one, you need to turn inside out which makes driving things onto the corners prior to handling them more fiddly. Sometimes actually catching them in the corners to have a better look, to sex and weigh them, is difficult and several times I have seen the captured animal run up someone's sleeve and escape - it happens to the best of us, though I haven't done it for years.

The survey took us three and half hours and we had two dormice and the same number of wood mice. I was able to show the difference between various nests, birds, wood mice that collect debris off the woodland floor, and dormice, which weave a round nest with a definite chamber inside and always have evidence of green leaves in the nest area, why that is we don't actually know but it might be camouflage - remember they normally build nests in tree holes or dense bushes the nest boxes are purely for our convenience, or possibly it's something to do with moisture. If they go torpid they may be in a box for days and dehydration could be a problem, but we don't actually know.

We had caught a male and a female both over 15 g which meant they were considered viable for hibernation, hopefully, they would gain a few more grams before they tried but the horrible truth is that over 60% will not survive until next spring, so hibernation isn't necessarily a particularly good move, though what to suggest in its place is uncertain. With relatively mild winters, it seems even more dangerous to dormice who we now know wake during their long sleep and which uses up vital fat supplies and which they are unlikely to replace. Our captive breeding programme which got me my master's degree means we are able to replace a certain amount of them with the agreement of Natural England, the government agency about whom you will not hear many kind words, but they try to do their best with very limited resources.

The bit Danni was waiting for was our stop for lunch at a cafe where we all had sausage and beans and chips and a cuppa, Danni even had bread and butter as well so could hardly move as we drove back to Francesca's, and then home.

"She's quite nice, do you really think her dad is a murderer? He seems pleasant enough."

"Psychopaths or more correctly someone suffering from a social pathology can be quite charming while they sign your death warrant. Hitler was supposed to be nice at a superficial level but his tantrums were uncontrolled and often resulted in executions of relatively innocent people, Joe Stalin was really lovely to your face but signed your death warrant while you left the building, his goon did the rest."

"Who was Joe what's his name?" Danni asked as I parked the car.

"Look it up on the internet," was my reply.

"How it go?" asked Simon, "Did you meet the main psycho or was he tormenting someone else."

"He was there and we had to wait for Francesca to change her boots."

"So what did you talk about, lovely day where did you bury your partner, and can hubby have his two million quid back?"

"No I didn't let on I was a Cameron let alone married to a banking family, I tried to keep it all very low-key. I simply don't want anything to do with him. I don't want a repeat of Cortez and his heavies."

"Oh, I don't know I thought you did very well there."

"Except Jim nearly bought it and he might have killed me too."

"Angels are invincible and you are my very own angel," Simon beamed at me whereas all I wanted was a shower and to put on something more comfortable than my boots and cargo pants. I kissed him which shut him up, especially when I rubbed my leg up and down his and then trotted off to the shower. Men are so easy to manipulate which is just as well as they are so much bigger and stronger than women.