Whispering Dormice. (aka Bike) Part 574 by Angharad

I finished sorting out the dinner and while it was cooking, I nipped up to see what Mima was up to. She hadn’t listened to me, rather filling the bath almost to capacity and had her dollies in there. If she had slipped, she could have fallen in and drowned herself. I felt mortified.

“I thought I told you to use the wash basin,” I said curtly.

“You told me to baff dowwies.”

“In the wash basin, that’s the washbasin,” I said pointing at it.

“Mummy cwoss wiv Mima,” she said beginning to cry.

“Yes I am, you didn’t do what I told you to do, you’re a naughty girl.” I pulled the plug on the bath. “Don’t you dare use the bath unless Mummy or Daddy are here to look after you. Now dry your dollies and comeback downstairs.”

Trish and Simon came back as I reached the bottom of the stairs. “Hello, darling, did you have fun?”

“Oh, yes, Mummy. Daddy’s car goes very fast.”

“I hope he wasn’t driving too fast,” I said aiming the remark at Simon who’d walked in behind Trish.

He shook his head, ‘no’. Trish said, “No he’s a very good driver.”

“How do you know, did he tell you that?”

“Yes,” she said naively. I glared at Simon, who gave me a choirboy smile and dodged into the lounge. Mima came down dragging a towel behind her, her dollies in the other hand.

“Wassup, Meems?” asked Simon sweeping her up in his arms.

“Mummy, teww me off.”

“What for, Meems?”

“I’s baffing me dowwies.”

He gave her a concerned look. “What’s wrong with her bathing her dollies?”

“Nothing if she’d done it like I told her to, in the washbasin–but no, she did it in the bath, filled almost to the top. She could have drowned herself.”

“Oh dear, Meems, Mummy is right, you were a silly girl, come and have a cuddle with me,” so saying he took her off into the lounge.

“Trish can you lay the table for me? after you wash your hands.” Tom peeped out of his office and then retreated back inside. I shouted after him, “You can run, but you can’t hide.” His response was to wave a white handkerchief out of the door. I chuckled as I walked back to finish the dinner.

I did salmon with watercress sauce, which had turned out quite well. We had this with new potatoes, baby carrots, and some garden peas. For dessert, I had a ready made trifle I’d bought the day before.

Meems forgot about her makeup, which was just as well, her eyes were red enough without needing further irritation from the blow lamp and paint scraper. Tom who had evaded clearing up–he had a bad heart–was well enough to read the kids bedtime story.

Simon and I sat chatting with a glass of wine when Tom came back down. He poured himself a glass of single malt, and sat with us. “They are such lovely kids, you’re so lucky, Cathy.”

“I know, I hope they feel the same.”

“Oh, I think so. They were really frightened when they thought you’d gone.”

“I can’t think why they thought that, I mean that was what, two days ago–that’s an eternity when you’re three or five years old.”

We both looked at Simon accusingly. “Don’t look at me like that, I didn’t say anything.”

“Nothing at all?” I asked suspiciously.

“No, nothing, except I started to say, she’s gone downstairs, but they didn’t wait for the downstairs bit.”

“Bloody typical, be careful next time, you know how sensitised they are. No one wants the poor little mites, so that’s all got to stop here.”

“What do you mean, no one wants them? We do, you, me and Tom. Surely they know that, we tell them often enough.”

“They are traumatised infants, they don’t operate on logic, well Trish does sometimes–then she’s like Mr Spock. They don’t see things like we do, so we have to try and make sure they know we love them.”

“Cathy, it wasn’t me who had Meems in tears, so don’t keep telling me what I should or shouldn’t do.”

“She could have drowned herself.”

“Well you were supervising her.”

“I know, I know. I got cross because I could see the danger she couldn’t.” I must learn not to shout at Simon.

“Hoy, who are you shouting at? I’m not some stupid foreigner who doesn’t understand English.”

Tom banged his glass down on the table and I jumped nearly spilling my wine. “As you’re both sitting at the same table, and there isn’t any loud noises competing with your voices, is there any need for either of ye to shout?”

We both looked away shamefacedly.

“Guid, now shake hands and apologise to each other.” When we hesitated, he glared at us, “Well, I’m waiting.”

Blushing furiously, I said quietly, “I’m sorry, Simon.”

“So am I,” he said sheepishly. We shook hands as instructed.

“Guid, I’m off to ma bed. Guid nicht.”

“Night, night, Daddy,” I said kissing him on the cheek. He nodded back to me.

“Night, Tom,” Simon offered, as Tom got up from the table. I collected the now empty glasses and put them in the kitchen.

“I’m off to bed, too,” I called as I switched off the kitchen light.

“Hang on, I’m coming now as well.” He followed me up the stairs, rubbing my bottom as we went. If he’d slapped it, I’d have slapped him, but rubbing it was okay.

We apologised properly once we got into bed, despite the shaking hands bit, we prefer the kiss and make up version, or as we tend to call it, kiss and make love. It’s the same as the other only with more exercise.

I had to go for a little clean up afterwards, while Simon wiped himself in his underpants and dropped them on the floor. I was disgusted, but given I’d already been told off for shouting at him, I said nothing, but there was no way I was going to pick them up, he could do that tomorrow, dirty pig.

While I was up, I popped in to see the girls. They were fast asleep and closely resembled somnolent cherubs. I felt a tear form in my eyes, we really had to get things right, or these kids would be irreparably damaged.