Wuthering Dormice (aka Bike) Part 664 by Angharad

The next day, Friday, went fairly smoothly. The girls didn’t invade our bedroom–something which usually woke me–and instead of sleeping on, I woke up even more than I did when they were bouncing over me. I went to investigate and discovered Trish and Livvie sat up in Trish’s bed, reading each other stories and thereby amusing Mima, as well.

I managed to get them showered and dressed–one at a time–which was a pain, but we had to preserve Trish’s reputation and her little secret. As a previous bearer of such a secret, I wasn’t likely to forget.

I got them to school, did chores and food shopping, and found a similar bike to Trish’s in a bike shop. It was shop soiled and in need of some minor repairs, which I could do myself, so I bought it at half price.

Why was I trawling around bike shops? Well, a girl’s got to have some fun after all. No, I needed a new track pump, my old one had passed the point of redemption, so it was destined for the scrap heap. I bought a Blackburn, because they do replacement parts for most of the bits likely to wear out.

The bike and pump were carefully hidden in the boot of my car when I collected the girls from school. Stella was looking after Meems–I mean, Annie–at this rate I shall be a basket case by Monday.

It was warm and although there was a reasonable breeze, I half considered taking them for ice creams on the way home. Instead, I bought a large tub of the stuff and we dashed home before it melted. Everyone had a small dish of it when we got home–even Puddin’ had a taste of Stella’s and squealed for more; we all laughed.

I sent the girls up to change and felt relatively secure in the fact that Trish was wearing quite tight knickers, hopefully hiding any little bulges. While they were upstairs, I took the new bike to the garage I used as a workshop and locked it.

All the children wanted to watch a DVD of Bambi, so I told them they could do so for half an hour. While they were busy rotting their brains with Disney, I slipped into the garage and began working on the bike. It had a few scratches, but those wouldn’t matter. There’d be a few more after they’d crashed a few times, and girls do as well as boys.

I straightened the handlebars and repaired the brake, it just needed a new screw and the saddle damage was repaired with a drop of glue. All in all, it looked in working order and I put it alongside Trish’s bike.

Simon arrived home as I was mashing the potatoes before creaming them. I was doing a corned beef hash with tomatoes. I don’t mean I was making corned beef hash with tomatoes, or do I? We were having corned beef hash and tomatoes with it. Actually, I can make a hash of most things, but not necessarily in the culinary meaning of the same.

Trish had asked me for it a few days before and as Livvie said she liked it too, I decided I’d give it a go. I hadn’t actually made it since my student days. It went down a treat and as I cleared up after the meal, I suggested the girls played outside as it was forecast to rain at the weekend.

“Like what?” asked Trish.

“I beg your pardon? Go outside and play.”

“Play what?” she said with her volume increasing.

“Go and play with your dolls and prams, or your bike.”

“I want to see more Bambi.”

“No, you can have some more tomorrow, I said half an hour. Now go and play.”

“But I wanna see Bambi, Mummy.”

“I don’t care, you are not seeing any more tonight and if you keep complaining, you won’t see any tomorrow either.”

“You’re a meanie,” she said and ran off.

“Trish, why don’t you go and play on your bike?”

“Doan wanna,” she said and picked up one of her dolls.

“What about you, Livvie? Don’t you want to play outside?”

“Not really, Auntie Cathy, I’ll play with Trish and her dolls.”

“Canni pway, too?” chirped Mima as she brought her own doll.

“Why don’t you go and play on the bike?” I tried one last time.

“No thank you, Mummy, I’m gonna play dollies.”

Some days, it does feel as if the universe is being particularly fickle. I went and got some mending I had to do on Trish’s school blouse, she’d torn the seam under the arm–God knows how, but I had a tear about four inches long to repair. The blouse was practically brand new, so I grabbed my sewing box and sat in the lounge under the window where the light was good.

The girls were playing away with the dolls and all three were playing quite nicely. I was listening to them as I pinned the seam and then threaded my needle. The girls seemed oblivious to my presence as I sewed quietly.

“Where has your mummy gone?” asked Trish.

“Scotland, somewhere.”

“My gramps has castle in Scotland.”

“My dad has a flat and a girlfriend.”

“My daddy works for a bank.”

“Mine teaches at a university.”

“My mummy does that, so does my other gramps.”

“Yes, Gwampa Tom, is a pwofessa,” said Meems trying to muscle in on the conversation.

“My dad teaches medicine.”

“What does your mummy do?” asked Trish.

“She works for the BBC, she’s an assistant producer or something.”

“My mummy’s film was shown on the BBC.”

“Yes, I saw it, your mummy is really clever. I wish my mummy had a dormouse.”

“My mummy bweeds dowmices.”

“My mummy isn’t very nice,” said Livvie.

“My mummy is, I think she’s lovely,” boasted Trish and I felt myself blush.

“I wish your mummy was my mummy,” sighed the little voice, “she’s really nice.”

“She’s not my real mummy,” said Trish so quietly I could hardly hear her. “My real mummy was horrible.”

“She isn’t your real mummy?” queried Livvie, with a note of horror in her voice.

“She’s much nicer than my real mummy. My real mummy wanted me to be a boy.”

Livvie laughed, and still laughing said, “That’s silly, you’re a girl.”

“This mummy let’s me be a girl, she’s nice.”

“I like your mummy,” said Livvie.

“I wuv my mummy,” added Meems for good measure.

I finished sewing the blouse and decided I’d stop the conversation before Trish compromised herself. “Okay, girls, bedtime now and I’ll put another story on the CD player. Stay in your own beds please.” With that I collected them up and after they said their goodnights all round, I chased them up the stairs.