Wuthering Dormice (aka Bike) Part 687 by Angharad

In bed, Simon and I discussed what seemed to be happening. “Why is she talking about adoption?” he asked.

“I don’t know, unless she feels insecure, although I’ve tried to reassure her that she can stay as long as she likes.”

“What if she’s still with us at age thirty five?”

“I suspect she’ll be off long before that.” I felt quite sad at the prospect. “I mean, once they go to uni and feel the freedom, they don’t want to come home again and live under someone else’s rules.”

“Yeah, what about the boomerang kids?”

“Who? Is this some Australian problem?” I was unaware of who and what they were.

“No, it happens all over. It’s kids you thought you’d got rid of, who come back home with debts and dirty washing, to be kept by you: either because they can’t or won’t get a job, and also because it’s cheaper to let you keep them.”

“Are you suggesting that I should wrap their sandwiches in Situations Vacant adverts or travel brochures?”

“Very funny,” he chuckled, then he got very serious, “How about this?” he asked placing my hand on a certain part of his body.

“I don’t think they’d be too fond of sausage sandwiches,” I replied in dead pan fashion. Thankfully he laughed so much, he nearly fell out of bed. When he’d calmed down, he made more sensitive approaches, verging on foreplay. I teased him for a while, simply because I can, then when it suited me, I let him have his wicked way, while I tried to work out what was the best way to protect our custody of the children.

In some ways, I suppose marriage would tend to indicate a stable relationship, or at least the intention of one, which to me showed how shallow the system was. Maybe I should speak to our solicitor, the one who helped us with the court case to keep Mima and then Trish.

I began to feel very hot, I know having Simon bouncing on top of me, plus a small area of friction, would encourage body temperature to rise somewhat, but the bedroom seemed to get very oppressive. Then the flash of lightning happened, followed by the crash of thunder. It must have been loud–it made Simon stop in mid-thrust. I was bored with his efforts and the thunderstorm gave me the excuse to push him off and go to the bathroom. I know he felt a little peeved, but that was his problem.

I stood and watched the thunderstorm for a few minutes, only to jump out of my skin when something tapped me on the bum. It was Livvie. “Mummy, I’m frightened.”

“Of what?”

“Of the noises and the flashing lights.”

“You mean the thunderstorm?”

“Yes, it means God is cross with us.”

“Who told you that?” I turned and cuddled her.

“In Sunday School, it said something about it in the Bible.”

“And why should God be cross with us?” I asked wanting to add, ‘assuming there is such a thing as God.’

“He’s cross with my daddy for killing my mummy and then killing himself; it’s a sin.”

“It’s more than a sin, sweetheart, it’s illegal. Thankfully, they can’t charge you for Biblical sins, but they can for breaking the law.”

“The Ten Commandments, thou shalt not kill. Daddy broke one of the Ten Commandments.”

“Hold on, we’re not being just a trifle judgemental here, are we? Besides, in killing himself, didn’t he expiate his sins?”

“What does that mean, Mummy?”

“It means in taking his life, didn’t he pay for possibly killing your mother?”

“Do you mean, God punished him by making him kill himself?”

“Not really, sweetheart, not believing in any sort of God, I miss out on some of the special offers they have. You know, Absolution, buy one get one free?”

Livvie laughed, quite a dirty laugh for her age, I was half sure she had little idea of what I was talking about. But I’d need to check that out later. Now I was tired and wanting my bed, I yawned to emphasise the fact.

“Come on, kiddo, let’s get you back to bed.”

“I can’t, in case she comes into me again.”

“In case, who comes into you?”

“My old mummy.”

“What she came here, did she?”

“Yes, last night.” Just then, a huge crash of thunder occurred overhead, and she froze, then bursting into tears said, “Don’t let her get me will you, Mummy?”

“There’s nobody there, Livvie, it’s just the storm, hot and cold air meeting.”

“Don’t let her get me, Mummy,” she was becoming increasingly agitated.

“Sweetheart,” I grasped her shoulders and forced her to look in my eyes. “There is no one else here, nothing can hurt you while Simon and I are here. Do you understand?”

She was too upset to try and reason with her. It sounded as if she’d had a bad dream. It seemed easier to let her get into bed with us, than argue about bad dreams.

I noticed Simon fumbling under the bed clothes to put his pyjama bottoms back on. Normally, that would have been very funny, tonight it was a nuisance because it was stopping me from getting back into bed. When he ceased wriggling, I let her jump into bed and then followed her. She lay quite still and I fell asleep quite quickly. She also acted as the best contraception I could think of, so Simon sulked for a short time before falling asleep.