Wuthering Dormice (aka Bike) Part 705 by Angharad

So far, I haven’t met up with Daisy again, so quite how I invite her to become a bridesmaid, I don’t know, but I did promise, so I’ll do my best. I was tempted to contact Southampton, but decided against it. Maybe my being ill was the universe giving me a chance to avoid being sucked into the short lived career as a miracle worker. I’m sure it would have ended in tears, and while I believe I have every right to be happy as myself and live my life for me, I also have responsibilities which have to dovetail into the larger picture. Yes, I can do things like studying dormice or making films, but I also have to make sure my girls are cared for and protected. Sometimes parenthood seems almost as much fun as finding dormice.

Today, it wasn’t so much fun. I had planned to take the girls to Southsea and it was wet and windy. I know, they were likely to get wet anyway, in fact part of the reason for going was for them to get wet–but in the sea wet, not soaked to the skin through rain wet.

I did consider taking them to the hotel that Henry owns, they have a swimming pool, we’ve been there before, but I don’t like to take advantage. Silly it might be, but that was how I was brought up, to pay my way.

Stella was feeding Puddin’ while I made a cuppa. The three girls were doing some painting on some strips of old wall paper I’d found. They were quite enjoying themselves and I must admit I felt fairly content despite the colder, wetter weather, evidence of which was lashing against the windows.

“Look at it, bloody weather,” said Stella, “when I was a kid, we used to spend hours on the beach.”

“What, Southsea?”

“No, in Gran Canaria. We had an apartment there.”

“I used to spend time at Weston Super Mare.”

“I always thought that was some sort of racehorse–super mare, get it?”

“I got it the first time, Stella, it means over or above the sea.”

“As opposed to under it, I suppose,” was her riposte.

“No but there are other Westons, like Weston Zoyland.”

“Weston Zoyland? You’re joking?”

“No, it’s near Sedgemoor, you know where Monmouth’s men were defeated by the turncoat John Churchill.”

“No I didn’t, turncoat?”

“Yes, he was sent by James the Second to repel William of Orange, instead he changed sides.”

“Typical, don’t tell me he got a knighthood for it.”

“They made him Duke of Marlborough, for that and bashing the French a couple of times.”

“Churchill, no relation to Winston?”

“Yes an ancestor of; he was another one who changed sides.”

“What joined the Nazis?”

“No, he started off as a Liberal and went over to the Tories.”

“Big deal; he did a great job in the war.”

“Not in the first one he didn’t, he possibly precipitated the Gallipoli massacre.”

“How did he do that?”

“He was First Sea Lord or something, anyway he screwed up big time and the Brits and the Aussies got stuffed.”

“Anything else I should know, as you seem intent on giving me a history lesson?”

“He had the troops fire on striking Welsh miners, during the General Strike.”

“What as Sea Lord?”

“No, he was Home Secretary then.”

“For a biologist, you’re quite good at history, aren’t you?”

“Bits of, why?”

“It was just an observation, nothing sinister.”

“Didn’t you do any history at school?”

“Of course I did, but I didn’t like it and certainly didn’t retain any of it. Besides in our history, the family that is, it’s an advantage to forget. Daddy knows it all, but most of it is about being on the winning side, so Churchill wouldn’t have been too out of place amongst my ancestors.”

“What like at Culloden?”

“I think we supported both sides until the battle, but as it became obvious the redcoats were going to win it, my ancestor made sure he was on good terms with Butcher Cumberland. He did well out of it, doubling the size of the estate in two years.”

“I suppose success in politics is about reading the wind, knowing which way it’s blowing and marching with it. As a political inept, I’d probably stick to my guns and get blown away.”

“Cathy, having principles won’t make you any empires, but it might gain you some friends…”

“Or sisters in law?”

“Or friends who also happen to be your sister.”

“I like that idea.”

“It’s more than an idea, it’s a fact. In this family we seem to become parents or siblings or even children by choice. Your girls decided they wanted you as their mother, Tom chose you as his daughter, and I chose you as my sister.”

“I hope you’re not implying that Simon chose me as his sister too?”

“God, I hope not. Nah, that’s where reality kicks in, he can’t be your brother and your husband, and as I want him to be the latter, it’ll have to do.”

“Do I get a say in this?”

“No, you do as your told, doesn’t she girls?”

“Yessss,” they called back, “Look Auntie Stella, I’ve done a picture of a snowman.”

“It isn’t that cold, Trish,” I suggested.

“I know, Mummy, but I spilt some white paint, so I changed my sailing boat into a snowplough, and the clouds became a snowman.”

She held up her picture, which looked a bit too abstract for my taste. Livvie held up hers, “Mine’s a picture of a tree.” We scoured the greens and browns and possibly could see something that resembled a tree.

“I’s doing a fwog,” said Meems, and showed us some big black and red object.

“It’s a poison arrow frog is it, Meems,” I suggested thinking she’d been watching some natural history film.

“No, iss a garden fwog.”

“New species I expect,” said Stella, “Scott’s fire frog, or something similar, isn’t it, Mima?”

“Yes, Annie Stewwa.”

“See, I’m a budding genius and you didn’t notice.”

“Yeah sure,” I was distracted by my thoughts.

“What’re you thinking about, Cathy?”

“My bike.”

“Has Simon sorted it?”

“Nearly, but I was thinking that two years ago, about this time, it was in a bike shop because a certain young nurse had knocked me off it.”

“What? Was that in July?”

“Yes, I’ve got a receipt upstairs somewhere.”

“Is it two years?”

“Yes, seems longer, doesn’t it?”

“In some ways yes, in others, no. Goodness, is it only two years? Crikey, you have changed a bit in that time, haven’t you? Sort of grown into the role?”

“With a little help from my sister and friends.”

“Here’s to the next two years,” she said and raised her tea cup to me.