Wittering Dalmations (aka Bike) Part 593 by Angharad

Simon took us home. Trish was still very upset so I sat in the back and cuddled her. Simon was very angry–he had literally missed my assault by two minutes. Even the reception staff were shocked. It transpired Dr Fliss had a bit of a reputation for her temper.

We had four witnesses from the waiting room who were happy to speak with the police. They seemed to bear out my side of the story. One actually saw me knocked to the ground and Fliss put the boot in. He was horrified and rushed to intervene, possibly saving me from further injury.

I explained to Trish that she would never need to see that woman again, and that we would all protect her against such a threat. The reality was, she would be struck off and charged with various offences, so could even end up in prison. At the very least she would be stopped from practicing again, and the hospital were likely to suspend her immediately.

I would speak with our GP and Dr Rose to find a new paediatric psychiatrist. I left it to our solicitor to bring a complaint to the GMC and College of Psychiatrists.

After dinner, I put the children to bed. I was aware that I couldn’t go and see Puddin’, my first responsibility lay with my own children, and I needed to be there all night in case they wanted me.

After I read to them, I watched them go off to sleep, and sat and thought about little Puddin’ trying to visualise her bathed in the blue light. Okay, I was pandering to other people’s fantasies, but just in case it was helping, I held the image in my mind for about five minutes.

When I went downstairs, Simon had put together a selection of cheese and crackers with a bottle of red wine. Tom sat with us and we nibbled and talked about what had happened. Tom and Simon had obviously been discussing it earlier because Tom was au fait with the basic facts.

I told them that the first and paramount issue was to find another shrink for Trish, and then to make sure that Edwards couldn’t hurt anyone else. After an, at times, heated discussion, I got the other two to agree with me. We would inform the appropriate authorities and leave them to do what they were supposed to. If they didn’t, our lawyer would chivvy them along, and if necessary seek redress.

Simon and Tom cracked another bottle of wine, I’d had enough after one glass and made some tea for myself. I checked on the girls, Trish was a bit restless so I sat on her bed and stroked her face gently, reassuring her that she was safe and that I was there for her. She seemed to calm down and lay still.

I went to bed. Simon came up later a bit tiddly after the wine, and tripping over a bedroom rug he fell into my dressing table knocking down bottles of perfume and my jewellery case. There was a general crash followed by the sound of glass and assorted objects.

I was just dozing off and therefore not best pleased. I sat up with an attitude that would not be unfamiliar to a grizzly bear after being woken from hibernation. I heard calls from the girls’ room and I stormed past the prostrate Simon and into the next bedroom.

“We heard a noise, Mummy.”

“It’s okay, darling, move over I’ll sleep with you for now.”

“What was it, Mummy?” asked Trish.

“Daddy fell over the rug in the dark and knocked all the stuff off my dressing table.”

“Is he alwight?” asked Meems, showing more concern than I seemed to feel.

“I think so, why?”

“I don’t want Daddy hurted,” she said.

“He was still breathing when I came in to you. I’m sure he’s okay.”

I cuddled down with Trish and Meems also came into the bed. It was almost standing room only; even sardines have more room than this. I vaguely heard sounds from my bedroom a bit later, but stayed where I was and slept fitfully for the rest of the night.

I awoke feeling stiff and sore. Some of this would be likely due to the assault, and some from sleeping with two kids in a three foot bed. After a shower, I had some nice new bruises including one on my ribs, where she kicked me, I dressed for comfort rather than looks, so it was a jogging suit and my slippers.

Simon had a few more bruises than I did, and I informed him he could clean up the mess he’d left. He also owed me for a new bottle of Chanel No 5, which he’d broken. He smelt very nice mind you, if a bit–erm–feminine, yes that was the word.

My arm seemed easier and I felt capable of driving today, so after breakfast, I drove to the local shops and bought some milk and some sweeties for the kids. I got home quite safely, and felt able to drive myself to the hospital this afternoon.

Simon’s hangover worsened as the girls had a stand up shouting match over a doll while I was out. A quite unusual event, normally they play very well together. When I got back, Simon complained to me, so I had to investigate and resolve it. It was a storm in a teacup, possibly made worse by yesterday’s events and they apologised to each other, had a hug and went off together as happy as sandboys.

Simon, however, was hitting the paracetamol. “How many of those have you had?” I asked him.

“Why?”

“Because they cause liver failure, and with the amount you drink…”

“My arteries are in perfect condition.”

“Which will be great consolation if you die from liver failure or cirrhosis.”

“Oh, I hadn’t thought of that.”

“Drink loads of water and don’t be so silly again.” I lectured him, all the while he was pulling faces at me, and to be fair he hadn’t got plastered for ages, least not while I was there. So if he hadn’t grumbled about the kids giving him a headache, I wouldn’t have grumbled at him.

Tom seemed to have a stronger constitution, he was out digging in the garden, preparing the vegetable patch. He had seed potatoes on order plus onion sets and some beans and peas already shooting in the greenhouse. He’d had to cordon off the compost heap after Kiki rolled in the horse manure he’d dumped there. He had to bathe her, which she absolutely hates.

Dr Rose called to see how the girls were and could I meet him for lunch. I spoke with Simon and Tom and they agreed to look after the girls. They would do beans on toast or eggs for lunch and I’d cook when I got home. The girls were less than happy however, and Trish insisted on coming with me. Meems was dissuaded by a ride in Simon’s racing car.

I met the good doctor in the hospital cafeteria, where the food is quite good. He was surprised to see Trish with me, but when I said she was a bit clingy, he understood.

“Our little friend has been suspended and the hospital and the trust are organising an enquiry and disciplinary.”

“When? Next year I suppose.”

“I’m told it will be expedited pretty quickly. Your solicitor has stirred up a real hornets nest.”

“How did she get your password?”

“We were talking in here one lunchtime, and we discussed tricks for remembering things like passwords. I told her I used family names. She knows my wife and kids, she only had to try a few and well, you know the rest. How’s the arm?”

“Getting better.”

“Like little Desie.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, they say she’s doing really well. Did you visit her last evening?”

“No, I was home with my two, why?”

“One of the nurses thought they saw someone standing by her, she was gurgling and laughing. The nurse had to sort out one of the others and when she looked again, there was no one there.”

“Mysterious,” I said and shrugged, “wasn’t me.”

“Apparently whoever it was looked like you.”

Discussion about the previous day was difficult with Trish there, so we agreed he’d come round to Tom’s house one evening. He’d also check out another psychiatrist for me.

“I wouldn’t say it was really necessary, we seem to be coping, but I suppose we’d better have professional support, if only to show there’s no personal influence involved.”

“I’d be inclined to agree with you, but I’d also support you if that sort of charge was levelled against you.”

“Thanks, Sam, that’s really kind of you.”

“Well, I am kind of responsible for you two meeting in the first place.”

“I don’t think we’ll hold that against you, will we Trish?”

“No, Mummy.” I put my arm around her. It was still a little stiff and sore but improving.

“I can’t get over how quickly you three have bonded. It’s like you were her natural mother.”

“Five of us, six including Stella. We’re a family, eight if you widen the circle to Henry and Monica. They look upon my girls as their grandchildren, and the girls love them, don’t you?”

“Yes, Mummy, we love Daddy and Grampa Tom, Grampa Henry and Granny Monica, oh and Auntie Stella. But most of all we love you, Mummy.”

I felt a need to blow my nose and Sam Rose gave me a wry smile.