Wuthering Dormice (aka Bike) Part 677 by Angharad

I must have gone off to sleep properly, because I wasn’t awakened until ten by Simon bearing a cup of tea. “I thought you’d want to wake up before too long, or the day will be half over.”

“What time is it?” I asked.

“Ten, why?”

“Oh, okay.” I took the tea, then glanced at the clock, “But it’s ten o’clock, why did you let me sleep this late?”

“I just said it was ten o’clock, didn’t you believe me?”

“Sorry, darling, I was half asleep. I have to get up, the girls will want…”

“The girls are out with Tom, he’s sneaked off work for the morning.”

“But they haven’t had breakfast…”

“Says who? I gave them breakfast myself.”

“Thank you, darling.”

“See, I’m not completely useless. If Stella can work out which end to put in the fuel and which end to remove waste, then I’m sure I can as well.”

“Looks like it. What are they wearing?”

“Who Stella and Pudding?”

“No, my, I mean our girls.”

“Clothes, what did you think they were wearing?”

I drank my tea, if he knew what I was thinking, he’d throw a wobbly. I can’t remember if he’s ever dressed the girls without my supervision. I held my peace.

“They chose their own stuff, this morning after I rang the school and confirmed there was no tuition today. They suggested we let them read to us in lieu of schoolwork, so I thought you could do that after lunch–I’ve got to call in at our Gosport branch, something has gone awry and they want me to investigate.”

“You? But you’re a commodities broker?”

“Amongst other things, I’m a licensed auditor too.”

“In which case do you want to do a quick check and make sure I’m all there before you disappear?” I winked at him. I wasn’t really in the mood, but thought he deserved some encouragement for his efforts, he did seem to be doing his best. He moved towards the bed with a twinkle in his eye. “Perhaps you’d better lock the door, Si?”

We had just got downstairs after showering together–much more fun than with the girls–when Tom returned with the girls and Kiki. “Did you have a good time?” I asked the girls.

“Yes, we fed the ducks, except Mima couldn’t throw the bread far enough and the seagulls kept on getting it first,” said Livvie.

“Poor wee, Meems, never mind, the seagulls need to eat as well, don’t they sweetheart?” I gave her a hug.

“Siwwy ducks, they wouldn’t come an’ get the bwead,” she said indignantly.

“Never mind, sweetheart, you had a nice time though?”

“Oh yes, Mummy, some of the ducks was pwetty.”

“Did they have green heads?” I asked.

“Some of them did, Mummy,” suggested Trish, “some were all brown.”

“Those were the female ducks, the green ones were the drakes, or male ducks.”

“There were some white ones, too, Mummy,” Livvie informed me, “were they boys or girls, Mummy.”

“I don’t know, Livvie, they could be either.”

“You mean they could choose to be boys or girls? Did you hear that, Trish, wouldn’t that be fun, it would be like that Gaby girl in the stories, she gets to choose if she’s a boy or a girl. Would you like to be a boy sometimes? I think it could be fun.” I felt myself flinch and was pretty sure Trish did the same.

“Twish is a girw,” said Mima, a touch defensively, which I hoped Livvie didn’t pick up, and I prayed she wouldn’t say any more about. Thankfully she didn’t. I looked at Tom, who was also holding his breath. In some ways the sooner Livvie was told the state of play, the easier it could be, providing she was positive about it. If she was negative–it could be a real problem. I would wait and talk with Trish about it, after all, the consequences would be hers, primarily.

I made a salad for lunch, which Simon scooped up between two pieces of bread and scoffed unceremoniously, to my horror and the girls amusement. Tom had already gone, presumably for his chicken curry.

The girls went out to play in the garden, the older two riding their bikes–“You can be Gaby, I’ll be Drew,” called Livvie. Logically, it shouldn’t have been possible for a teenager to race him/herself, but that was what was happening in the drive.

Meems had gone to help Stella with Puddin’, and seemed to be really enjoying playing with her ‘cousin’, presumably as a life size doll. While she was doing that, I found a few minutes to check my emails.

Hi Cathy,
I’ve been on to the BBC and cheques should be in the post for your cooperation the other week with their radio and TV interviews. Midweek has decided you’re too old news for them, but Start the Week, with Andrew Marr, is interested especially if you were to raise some topical subject like the mammal survey. It would mean going to London–don’t know if you’re interested or not. Remember, the higher your profile the more we’ll get for the Harvest Mice film, when you make it.

Erin’

Damn, all I needed was more media exposure. I hadn’t agreed to do the harvest mouse film yet, so she was jumping the gun, what she wanted for Andrew Marr’s show was Tom, he’s the lead scientist on the survey.

The idea of presenting or collaborating with other film makers filled me with dread. If I had no history waiting to jump out of the cupboard like a dog to bite me, then it might be a nice idea–but, because I had secrets which could affect others as well as me, it wasn’t such a good one. I had the children to protect now, Trish knew about me, Mima didn’t neither did Livvie, who might be most affected. Either way, I didn’t want to threaten their family bonding, even though I knew it could be making things worse down the line.

It was one of those Catch 22 situations where if you explained it all and they accepted it, things were fine. If they didn’t things could get very sticky very fast. Trish, would stay with me until they prised her away with crowbars. Mima would probably be similar, and as she has known me for some little while now, only sees me as female. Livvie, is the real problem. If she found out later from an external source, she might be unconcerned about it, she might be cross but cope or she could be very unhappy and feel betrayed, as if I’d lied to her.

Why do gender issues have these complications? Why can’t the world accept me as I am, and forget about my past which has little relevance any more, and why am I so frightened that Livvie would take things the wrong way about Trish or me? She seemed to cope with the Gaby/Drew duality, so why not Trish and me? I suppose because, if she changes her mind about the fictional character, she can stop reading. If she changes her mind about Trish or me, she has major consequences to deal with. Oh boy–why couldn’t I have been a normal female, and Trish the same?