Warlike Durotriges (aka Bike) Part 599 by Angharad

“Do you reckon Erin meant this Saturday or next?” I asked Tom over breakfast.

“Why don’t you call her and find out?”

“I suppose I could, either that or have a meaningful conversation with her ansafone.”

“They often make more sense than their owners,” Tom suggested spreading thick marmalade on his toast.

“Ugh, I don’t know you can eat that stuff, Daddy.”

“Huh, I’m not asking ye tae eat it.”

“Just as well, I’d refuse and accept my three faults.”

“Whit?” he looked perplexed.

“Show jumping.”

“Ach, I cannae be bothered with such cruelty tae animals, making them sit on the backs of yon great beasts, looking terrified.”

“I must admit I’ve never been a fan of large quadrupeds, they always frightened me, although when I was a kid I fancied learning to ride like the girls of my age were doing.”

“Aye, my Catherine learnt for a while, but she got a wee bit tired of the mucking oot, I made her do.”

“You had a horse here?”

“Well where else would I keep one?”

“I wondered if she’d have learned at a stables, hiring a horse when required.”

“No, she haed tae hae her ain. We kept it for twa year, and then sold it, she’d lost interest by then, mind ye, we haed the best roses for miles aroond.”

We both laughed at his joke. I could just see a doting father helping his daughter to muck out the horse, except it would have been his son then, not his daughter, wouldn’t it? I couldn’t ask because the girls were around and I didn’t want Trish to be aware of the reasons why she had been boarded with us. I wanted her to feel that she was living with a normal family–well okay, one with monogrammed toilet paper, but otherwise ordinary, except for the psycho foster mother.

Tom went off to walk Kiki, who seemed to be getting rather fat since the arrival of the children, although they denied feeding her. Maybe they just dropped more food and she cleaned it up. Spaniels are good dustbins.

I showered and washed the girls and they dressed to play, Meems was happy to wear trousers most of the time, Trish preferred a skirt, under which she wore two pairs of panties and today, a pair of thick navy tights. Her skirt was denim and her top a red and blue striped pullover. Meems was in dungarees with a blue sweatshirt.

I was dressed for chores in jeans and a top, but as I brushed their hair and tidied them up generally, I wondered how I’d have turned out had I been allowed to be the girl I knew I was, at their age. I was so pleased that Trish could at least realise her dreams, as far as was possible.

I made bread, cleaned through and put the washing on. After lunch I did some ironing, and then went off to the hospital to see Stella and Henry and of course little Puddin’.

Henry had been taken to see Stella, he was a very concerned father when I saw him. “What are we going to do with her, Cathy?”

“I don’t know, that’s for the experts to decide, all we can do is show our love for her and keep supporting her. She’ll come through it, she’s a tough cookie.”

“I wish I had your confidence, unfortunately, I was so upset when I saw her, I lost it rather, and told her to pull herself together. The nurse asked me to leave.”

“Not the best thing to say to her, I’m afraid.”

“Quite, however, I was so frightened for her, my heart overran my head. Maybe we should send her back to that clinic, they did seem to get something going for her.”

“I can’t comment, except to ask; where will the baby be?”

“Good point, I don’t know. Monica is no good with babies.”

“She seemed okay with my two.”

“They’re hardly babies, Cathy; besides you seem much better at that sort of thing–and they say if you have one you might as well have half a dozen, it doesn’t take any more time.”

“Whoever said that was a man, and childless. It takes a good deal more time to look after two than one, and three will be a good deal harder.”

“But you’re up to the challenge, eh what, old girl?”

“Am I? Isn’t that for me to decide. If I was to agree to it, subject to the child’s own mother being involved in the decision, I should like some help with looking after all three of them.”

“That could be arranged.”

“I’m trying to keep a toe hold on my academic career. Our dormouse film is going out on the BBC at the end of June.”

“Yes, I heard.”

“How come?”

“I have friends in low places. But I always knew it would be a hit.”

“How come?”

“With you presenting it, it had to be.”

“Yeah once the tabloids check out my rather public history, they’ll have a field day.”

“The bank will do all it can to help.”

“Yeah, hiding me in your largest vault, might be a good idea.”

“Face them down, what have you to be ashamed of?”

“I’m prepared to face them myself, but with three kids–that isn’t fair on them is it. I’ve also avoided telling Trish, because I want to be a female role model for her, not a transsexual one.”

“Is that for her sake or yours?”

“Bit of both, I suppose. I just want her to grow up as normal as she can, but as a near normal girl, and to see me as her foster mum, not her tranny foster mum.”

“How is she going to feel when she finds out?”

“If she’s older, hopefully, she’ll be able to deal with it.”

“I don’t know, some young women are quite fragile, especially if it gets out amongst her peers–which it’s likely to do, especially when you make the second film.”

“I don’t know if I’m going to.”

“You will, because it’s needed, and if the BBC have any sense, they’ll be scooping you up to present as much of their wild life programming as they can.”

“You’re joking, once the proverbial hits the air-con, they might even change their minds.”

“They won’t, they know about you and they liked what they saw, a beautiful and knowledgeable woman, oozing sex appeal and information. Every man under seventy will be glued to the box trying not to show the bulge in his trousers.”

“Even when they find out the object of their lust was born a boy?”

“No, you were a girl with a plumbing problem, just like young Trish.”

“I’ve brought your clean laundry, I have to go and see Stella and the baby.”

“I went to see the baby, she’s grown a bit.”

“A little, she’s still quite frail, but she’s in expert hands.”

“What yours?”

“Mine? I barely know one end from the other?”

“That isn’t what my spies tell me,” he smiled at me, the smug smile of one who knows more than someone else.

“So what do they tell you?”

“That you give her healing every day and that she bounces about after you have.”

“No, Henry, I give her a bottle when I can; maybe it’s something they put in the milk.”

“I’ll stick with the observations I had reported to me. Please don’t stop seeing her, she needs you very much at the moment.”

“Okay, if I’ve got such wonderful healing powers, how come I can’t seem to help Stella or myself?”

“Why, you’re not sick, are you?”

“I think I have a temper problem, I keep losing it.”

“Is it appropriate to lose it, sometimes it’s okay to feel angry.”

“With Simon?”

“Could be, he drives me to it.”

“I actually knocked him out.”

“Crikey, I didn’t know you could punch that hard.”

“It was a kick.”

“Not in the proverbials, I hope?”

“No, a drop kick to his chest.”

“I expect he asked for it.”

“I don’t think he did, well upon reflection, I didn’t think he did.”

“I see, so we’ll have to watch out for the David Beckham of Portsmouth, will we?”

“Kick boxing is more Thailand than Manchester.”

“Ah, I believe Stella did some of that, don’t think she was much good at it.”

“It was she who taught me.”

“Oh, oh well, I stand corrected.”

“I have to go.” I pecked him on the cheek which made him smile. He had a crafty stroke of my bum as I bent over. I’ll have to watch him. It still astonishes me that someone who knows my history finds me sexually attractive.