Wuthering Dormice (aka Bike) Part 830 by Angharad

I took Puddin’ and her cot into our room, Stella went off to bed and I settled the baby down, did my ablutions and went to bed. Simon was watching some war film on telly, and as I don’t like the genre, having an early night meant I wasn’t missing anything. I went out like a light, the effects of the past few weeks perhaps exerting a toll upon me.

I didn’t feel or hear Simon get into bed, nor apparently did I hear Puddin’ crying. Simon did and had to get out of bed to comfort her. Apparently this happened twice, so when I woke the next morning, feeling very refreshed and ready to go–Simon seemed a tad grumpier than usual.

“What’s your problem?” I asked him wondering if he was still angry with Tom.

“That little baggage,” he nodded at Puddin’ who was gurgling to herself, even if she did smell less than fresh.

“What about her, she didn’t wake in the night–did she?”

“Twice. Twice I had to get out to calm her down–you were lying on your back catching flies.”

“Who me?” I was horrified.

“You sounded like a buzz saw, probably what woke her up.”

“Me? Come off it, Simon, I don’t snore.”

“You did last night.”

“That is ridiculous. I’ve never heard anything so stupid in all my life. Me–snore?”

“Yes you–you’ve woken me up loads of time.”

“Simon Cameron, may God forgive you for such an outright lie.”

“What? It isn’t, I’m telling the truth.”

“And you expect me to believe that?”

“Yes I do, because it’s true.”

“Yeah, sure.” I got up and switched off the radio. Puddin’ woke and began whimpering for food and a change of nappy–she was soaking and smelly. “I’d better see to the baby.”

“How come you’re doing it, what’s wrong with Stella?”

“She’s very tired, so I said I’d give her a hand.”

“Be careful it doesn’t become a long term one.”

“I will, besides I’m too busy to offer more than occasional support.”

“Yeah, make sure you are.”

“Look, I’m going into the university today after I drop the girls off to school.”

“On a Saturday?”

“Saturday? It’s Friday.”

“No it isn’t, it was Friday yesterday.”

“Simon, it wasn’t.”

“Cathy it was, and if you are going to be so argumentative, why not take smelly bum there for a dip in the washing machine.”

“Washing machine? Simon, you can’t put a baby in a washing machine.”

“Yeah, course you can, then dry her in the microwave.” Now I knew he was winding me up–so in all probability, the snoring bit was the same. I felt relief flood over me–the idea of snoring was so awful. Phew, he nearly got to me that time.

I bathed Puddin’ and gave her some breakfast after dressing her. Trish heard me up and about and came to help me. “Why are you looking after baby Puddin’, Mummy?”

“Auntie Stella’s very tired, so I’m letting her have a lie in. It is Saturday, today, isn’t it?”

“Yes, Mummy, can we go out somewhere nice today?”

“I suppose so, where would you like to go?”

“To the shops.”

“Why? What do you want to buy?.”

“I can’t tell you Mummy.”

“Why is everyone so strange this morning?”

“I’m not strange, Mummy.”

“Well you’re hardly acting normally.”

“I am acting normally.”

“So why won’t you tell me what you want to buy?”

“Because I can’t, Mummy.” She started to sniff and I could see that it was upsetting her.

“Hey, you don’t have to get all upset, I only wanted to know so I could take you to the right sort of shop.”

“I want to go to the bike shop.”

“Bike shop? Whatever for?”

“See you’re asking me nasty questions again.” She flounced off crying which started Puddin’ off and I felt like getting in the car and driving off into the sunset. Seeing as it was only just light, I’d probably get some distance too.

Stella came down and took Puddin’ off my hands, she looked a bit better than she had the previous night. “What’s the matter with Trish?” she asked.

“I don’t actually know, she was acting all mysterious about going shopping somewhere.”

“Yeah, so?”

“Well I wanted to know, where she wanted to go and what she was buying.”

“Why?”

“I’m responsible for her.”

“Oh lighten up, Cathy, she’s hardly likely to be buying class A drugs or weapons, is she?”

“No, but I like to know what she’s doing. She’s only five, so she hardly appreciates the value of money does she?”

“You know what she wants to buy?”

“If I did I wouldn’t have asked her would I?”

“Well think about it.”

“Whaddya mean?”

“Duh! Like whose birthday is it soon?”

“I can’t think of anyone off hand, least I hope not, because I think I used up my last spare card.”

“Cathy, are you losing the plot here somewhere?”

“No, why?” I felt myself blushing, obviously there was someone whose birthday I’d forgotten and she wasn’t going to tell me who. I flicked through my mental checklist–Trish, Livvie, Mima, Simon, Stella, Puddin’ and Tom; oh could it be Henry? No I’m sure it isn’t. Damn, who else is it?

“You really can’t remember whose birthday it is next week?”

“No, whose is it?”

“Yours, you silly moo. Now can you see why she didn’t want to tell you?”

“Oh bugger, I forgot all about it.”

“Well your children hadn’t. You look after Pud this afters and I’ll take ‘em out shopping.”

“Okay, seems like a fair deal to me and I won’t embarrass them. Just don’t let them spend too much, will you?”

“Do you honestly think I would?”

“No, but...”

“But you thought you’d better say so anyway?”

“Something like that.”

The rest of the weekend passed very quickly, it was cold and then wet again on the Sunday. Then Monday was a little better, Tuesday and Wednesday were back to wet and horrible. I took the girls to school each morning and collected them in the afternoon. Each time I did they’d giggle as soon as they saw me. “We knowed somefin’ you don’t knowed,” chanted Mima and they dissolve into fits of giggles.

It’ s now Wednesday evening, December 2nd and I still don’t know what they’re giggling about, presumably whatever it is they’ve bought me for tomorrow. Goodness is it really a whole year since the last one?

Simon came to bed a little while ago and he was smirking–now I am totally paranoid, I probably won’t sleep all night–the rotten buggers!