Watts Done (aka Bike) Part 627 by Angharad

I drifted off to sleep thinking about seeing Simon the next day, until I remembered the woman’s voice. I tried to put it out of my mind, but it wasn’t playing, and I tossed and turned for an hour.

I hadn’t told the girls that ‘Daddy’ was coming home so they were busy messing about with bikes and prams in the driveway when Simon’s jaguar pulled in. They rushed shrieking up to see him and he hugged each of them and walked into the house holding their hands. I felt so pleased to see the three of them together–my little family.

I hugged and kissed him, and he gave me a long kiss and very meaningful hug. “I’ve have missed you so much,” I said breathless after his hug.

“So you should,” he smirked and after another kiss he went back out to the car to get his case. He came back in with two children hovering to see what was in his case. I went and put the kettle on to boil.

“Where’s Tom?” he asked digging in his case.

“Popped into the office, so he should be back in about three weeks.”

“Pity he couldn’t have taken Pinky and Perky with him.”

I playfully swatted his arm, “They’ve been waiting for days to see you and what do you do? Wish to be temporarily disposed of them. Hmm some father figure you turned out to be.”

“Okay, okay, so I failed the test. I just wanted to be alone with my beautiful fiancée, just for an hour or two.”

“We have all night, you know?”

“Yeah, okay, if the jet lag doesn’t get me by then.”

“Oh, I think I can make you forget it,” I said winking at him.

“I’ll try, ma’am, I’ll try.”

“Oh, we saw your ancestral pile last week.”

“Oh yeah, a bit OTT, don’tcha think?”

“Maybe, but it’s rather beautiful all the same.”

“Like the women in my life–beautiful.”

“Women?”

“Yeah, you, Trish, Mima, Stella and the baby, and Monica.”

“Is that all?”

“Isn’t that enough? My birthday card fund is rapidly diminishing.” I laughed at his joke, but I was still a little anxious at the recollection of the phone call. “Ah, here we go,” he handed a parcel to Trish and a similar one to Mima. They turned out to be Russian doll sets.

“Don’t I get one?” I asked pouting.

“I thought you were a bit too old for such things.”

I pouted again, “Story of my life,” and shrugged.

“So I got you this,” he handed me a soft package. I tore open the paper and inside was a delicious short, grey silk nightdress.”

“That is so lovely, thank you, Darling,” I kissed him, “I shall wear this tonight,” I said holding it up against myself.

“Put it away, or I shall ravish you here and now in front of the children.”

“Promises, promises,” I teased, but put the nightie back in the plastic bag from which I’d dragged it.

Tom came home mid afternoon, and received a bottle of genuine Russian vodka, it was some ridiculous figure over-proof and would probably taste like industrial alcohol. I got on with the dinner while the two men played ball in the garden with the girls and Kiki. It felt good for there to be some normality in the childrens’ lives after the recent mayhem. I hoped by not discussing it, we’d be able to let it become forgotten, but I doubted it. Only time would tell.

I did a roast chicken dinner with stuffing and roast potatoes, which they all ate and seemingly enjoyed. Dessert was a simple fruit salad and ice cream. It all disappeared, so I assumed I was doing something right.

Then after a few games of snakes and ladders with their daddy, the girls went off to bed, providing he went and read them their bedtime story. He seemed happy to oblige. Seeing him as such a good family man, I wondered if it was worth risking things by asking him awkward questions–but part of me had to know or would live in fear that he was two timing me.

Tom and I had a glass of wine as we cleared the table and I loaded the dishwasher. How did I ever cope without one? Then again, most of my catering had been done for one at university, so it would have taken me a week to fill it.

My mother had taught me the rudiments of cooking, doing a basic roast dinner, making pastry, and a sponge, some stews and casseroles and a few puddings, mainly milk ones like sago and tapioca. Had she realised it had grown into acting as a housewife cum cook, she may not have been so encouraging.

When she saw me, that day she died, and said I was an angel, did she see me, I mean did she recognise me or was I just some girl who appeared as she was in extremis? I suppose I’d never know. In my visions of her post mortem, she had increasingly become seemingly tolerant of my new status–was it self delusion on my part? I thought it probably was, I didn’t go much for ghost stories–then, I didn’t go much for the blue light stuff in healing. There is a lot science has yet to explain, like dark matter and dark energy which makes up a significant proportion of the universe, apparently. Well so the theory goes. I can’t disprove it, so I accept it could well be true.

“A penny for them?” said Simon after kissing me on the back of my neck and making me jump then swoon in his arms.

“Nothing, quantum physics, that’s all.”

“Quantum physics?” he felt my forehead. “There’s no temperature, you alright?”

“Fine, why the sarcasm?”

“Well, it surprises me, that’s all–I mean you’re a biologist and they’re not supposed to be able to get their little brains around anything like quantum mechanics.”

“Okay, you can tell Schroedinger, then.”

“Tell him what?”

“He needs to get more cat food.”
“More cat food? Is this of some esoteric significance?” he asked, then mumbled, “More cat food?” to himself. “No, I can’t see it.”

“Schroedinger and his cat, you know it’s both alive and dead at the same time, so he’d need to buy more cat food.”

“How can his cat be alive and dead at the same time?”

“It’s quantum.”

“Is it? What am I thinking about then, it sure ain’t alive and dead cats.”

“I have no idea, but you can kiss me on the neck again, if you like.”

“What? Like this?”