Wuthering Dormice (aka Bike) Part 731 by Angharad

We arrived at my house in Bristol after a pit-stop for fuel and some groceries, we’d need milk and bread and some fruit and veg, some meat, fish, drinks, pasta, rice, yoghurts, biscuits, chocolate, ice cream and toilet rolls. Just a small shop, I nearly fell over when the bill came to over fifty pounds although we got a discount on the fuel, so it sort of worked out not too bad.

Then, while the girls played out in the garden, I unloaded the car –stowing food in the kitchen and bikes in the garage. Least, I think that’s what I did; if I find a bike in the fridge, I’ll know where to look for the food. I laughed out loud as I recalled a old joke, about the old lady who got on the bus and her friend said to her, “Why have you got a suppository in your ear?”

“Damn,” said the old lady, “but now I know where I put my hearing aid.” Well I thought it was funny. I shut the garage door and locked it. The car was locked and after going through it, the front door was shut and I could finally make a cuppa and relax for a few moments.

No sooner had I done so than two of the girls came in demanding drinks. They were red as beetroot and puffing–“Goodness, two red Indians,” I said, “How,” I held my palm upwards and vertical.

“How what, Mummy?” asked Trish.

“It’s what Red Indians say.”

“What is?”

“How?” I repeated.

“But, how what, Mummy?” said a frustrated, red faced five-year-old.

“You got the drinks yet, Trish?” called Livvie from the garden.

“Mummy, thinks we’s wed Indians,” said Mima loudly.

“Red Indians?” called the voice from the garden and moments later Livvie came in, equally red faced.

“How,” I said and raised my hand again.

“How,” said Livvie and mimicked me.

“Who,” said Trish and raised her hand – then she burst out laughing and said giggling, “I’m a pink Indian, we say, who.”

“Twit hoo,” Mima joined in the insanity and pretended to flit about like an owl with a haemorrhoids. Then the other two became members of the owl clan and whooped about the kitchen until I yelled, “QUIET,” and shooed them out to the garden. I then made them a drink each and closed the back door to sit and drink my tea.

After lunchtime, Stella arrived with Puddin’ and I helped her unload, Stella that is rather than Pud – she’d already unloaded by the smell emanating from her lower regions. Stella took her off to change for a less smelly model while I made her a sandwich and some more tea.

“That feels better,” Stella rubbed her tummy, “what’s next, Watts?”

“How,” said Trish.

“How what?” asked Stella.

“Not what – how, it’s what Red Indians say, Auntie Stella.”

“Of course, I suppose you’re big chief – sorry, big squaw, Itchy Knickers.” Wel,l Trish’s face was a picture, shock, disbelief then it collapsed in laughter. She absolutely roared, of course Stella then had to name the other two. Meems became little squaw, Drinking Chocolate, and Livvie, big squaw, Wunda Bra.

I had to wipe the tea off my top and jeans, where I’d snorted it all over myself. Stella had kept a straight face throughout, or until the tribe went back out in the garden. Once Puddin’ had been put down for a snooze, we went out to see if the three squaws had blown over the neighbours or scalped anyone. They hadn’t and were beginning to show signs of boredom. Spotting some long bamboo sticks, which must have in the garden for several years, I had an idea. I went into the garage and brought out an old tarpaulin Daddy had bought for something or other, and a ball of garden twine. Then after tying a few sticks together, and draping the tarp and threading some string though the holes in it, I cobbled together a makeshift teepee.

It was just big enough for the three of them to sit inside and hide from everyone, and once I found an old piece of carpet for them to sit on, the tribe spent the rest of the afternoon playing cards and board games in their new abode.

Stella was very impressed. “Obviously Girl Guide material,” she chuckled.

“Woulda been except I kinda failed the medical.”

“Oh gawd, of course, sorry; I keep forgetting.”

“I wish I could,” I sighed and began peeling potatoes for the evening meal.

“Don’t you, I mean, don’t you ever forget?” Stella sounded quite concerned and surprised.

“Oh yeah, I mean, I’m not thinking – I used to be a boy, all the time. It’s just that I didn’t have a girlhood, so when I think back to the years before I met you, my history is – well you know…”

“Why don’t you go and play with the other hell raisers, go and capture some of those lost years?”

“Thanks for the thought, Stel, but I think I’m too old to participate myself except vicariously. I shall have my girlhood watching these three growing up, and make sure that one of them, doesn’t have the same inadequacies of personal history that I had.”

“You mean you want Trish to have some girlhood memories?”

“Exactly that.”

“Which is why Sam Rose got her billeted with you.”

“Yes, even I’m bright enough to work that out. In some ways, I hope it will fill some of the void, but I hope I’m grown up enough to make sure I don’t detract from her experience and enjoyment of it, in fulfilling my own needs.”

Stella hugged me, “Oh, Cathy, I really feel for you, a beautiful woman without a past, we’ll have to create one for you.”

“I think I’ll manage a bit longer, Stella, kind though your offer is. I’d like to keep my feet on the ground and my head firmly attached to them via my body. Living with my little delusions is quite enough for me, especially now the legal system humours us.”

She stood back and looked at me, “Delusions, legal system humouring you? What are you on about?”

“Can’t you work it out?”

“Are you trying to tell me that your appearing and living as a female is a delusion?”

“Sort of, I mean, it is and it isn’t.” 

“Explain, please?”

“Oh it’s all old hat. Silk purse and sow’s ear syndrome.”

“Answer me honestly–do you think you made a mistake in changing over?”

“Good God, no.” How could she ask that, I was shocked.

“So what are you on about then? You’re a beautiful woman, who is looking after three lovely kids and engaged to one of the most eligible bachelors in the country. What is your problem?”

“I don’t know,” I dropped the potato peeler in the sink and ran through into the lounge where I collapsed onto the sofa and began to howl. A few minutes later, I felt Stella squeeze my shoulder.

“It’s okay, you are a beautiful woman – believe me, I’ve seen quite a few in my time, and you could stand up there with the best of them. Try and let go of the past, Cathy, enjoy the present and plan for the future. The past has gone, it’s nothing more than a few memories and those are only a few tiny electric charges between nerve cells. It doesn’t exist, just be yourself – the woman we all love and whom I’m so proud to call my sister.” She hugged me and I wept some more, this time in embarrassment. How could I be so ungrateful when I was probably one of the luckiest women alive – yes, woman. Stella was right, I needed to move on and enjoy what I had and plan for what I wanted, and with whom.