Wuthering Dormice (aka Bike) Part 853 by Angharad

The next day was Christmas Eve, and I rushed out early with Trish and Livvie to finish the food shopping, grab a Guardian and so forth. We were back by eight and making breakfast for Meems, Simon and the two boys. I did a very unhealthy fry up of bacon, sausage, hash browns, beans, tomatoes and mushrooms. We all indulged and they all helped clean it up. I announced that lunch would be a very small snack and dinner would be light as well–hence the morning blow out. Simon and Tom took the boys, Livvie and Meems out to visit some aircraft museum near Southampton.

Trish feigned a tummy ache not to go. I let her stay with me and set her work vacuuming–she seemed quite happy to do chores. “Now tell me the real reason you didn’t want to go.”

“He knows.”

“Who knows what?”

“He knows who I was?”

“Danny?”

“Yes, Mummy.”

“Oh, sorry, darling.” I gave her a hug, “I did try to put him off the scent.”

“I know, Mummy.”

“What do you need me to do?”

“I don’t know–he said he wouldn’t tell anyone.”

“Why the change of heart?”

“He said he could see I really was a girl, and we’ve all been so kind to him. He really likes you, Mummy, said he wished he had a mummy like you.”

“Don’t tell him where I live,” I said and realised from her expression that it had gone right over her head.

“He knows where you live, Mummy.”

“Never mind, kiddo, let’s have a quick cuppa and”–the doorbell rang and I didn’t get to finish my sentence.

It was the van from the bike shop, we unloaded the three boxes into the garage cum workshop, the driver admired my set up, “No wonder you didn’t need us to assemble them. What no wheel truing jig?”

“Behind the door,” I pointed and he pulled back the door.

“Not many women like to get their hands dirty,” he remarked.

“I like to be different,” I smiled and we leant the boxes against the wall I’d cleared earlier. For those who’ve never bought a brand new bike, they are delivered in a box that looks big enough for a child to live in. These were smaller boxes because they were all children’s bikes, so I let the delivery man carry them himself.

“Crikey, are these all Park tools?”

“Yes, on that wall, over here are those I’ve collected over the years.”

“Your workshop is as good as ours.” He stood looking round and shaking his head. “It is you who uses these–not your husband?”

“He has been known to borrow the odd screwdriver, but this is my workshop.”

“And your bikes?”

“Those three are mine, that one is Simon’s, that belongs to his sister Stella and the children’s bikes are fairly obvious.”

“A family which cycles together, stays together?” he posed.

“Something like that.”

“Do you race?”

“Nah, not good enough.”

“I’m sure the local club would disagree, I can give you their number...”

“No thanks, I don’t have time these days, the children see to that.”

“Okay, well Merry Christmas,” and he got back in his van and drove off. Trish came out carrying a mug of tea, and a mince pie.

For the next two hours, we opened boxes and assembled bikes. I’d bought the two boys bottom of the range of decent mountain bikes from Giant–they seemed as good as any and I managed to negotiate a decent price. I also got Meems the same bike as Livvie and Trish had. Trish was really pleased for her. She helped me tidy up afterwards and talked constantly while I was working.

Finally she brought the conversation back to Danny. “He said he felt much better after what you did last night.”

“Good,” I said checking the alignment of some forks.

“He said a weight had been lifted off him, what does he mean, Mummy?”

“Sometimes carrying an emotional pain feels every bit as bad as carrying a physical weight, it can even make people curl up as if they had a heavy bag on their back.”

“And you helped him with the weight?”

“Looks like it–pass me that spanner, will you? No, the big one, that’s it.”

She ran and hugged me, “You’re a wonderful Mummy,” she said then burst into tears.

“What’s the matter?” I hugged her trying not to get my oily gloves–yes I wear vinyl gloves to tinker with bikes these days–on her clothing.

“I don’t know,” she sobbed hugging me tightly.

“Is it Danny knowing about you?”

“I don’t know, he said he wouldn’t tell anyone.”

“But you don’t trust him?”

“I don’t know.” She continued sobbing and holding on to me.

“Okay, I’ll speak with him.”

“Will that help?” she cried.

“I honestly don’t know, but at least I can put him in the picture and say we have doctors who believe you are female, so we’re waiting for the time for your body to stop growing to put the little anomaly right. D’you think that would help?”

“I don’t know.”

“Nor do I, darling, but whatever he says, it won’t actually change anything, you’re still living as a girl and that’s what counts. Personally, if he said he won’t tell, I believe him.”

“He’s so much bigger than me, he frightened me.”

“When?” This sounded more serious.

“When I was Patrick.”

“He hasn’t done so since?” I held her by the upper arms and looked into her eyes.

“Only that he might recognise me–and he has,” she sobbed again.

“Trish, it’s one of the prices we pay for being true to ourselves–that someone, can at any point in time produce information or accusations of a past identity. If you really want to live as the girl you tell me you are, you have to learn to cope with it.”

“I don’t want to, Mummy, it’s horrible.”

“Do you want to go back to being Patrick?”

“No, Mummy, I’d die.”

“You have to be brave, my darling, be brave and grow stronger from the experience.”

“I’ll try.” She wiped her eyes.

“Good girl, remember all those bad things happened to Patrick, not Trish. Trish has the support of the whole family. We’ll help you, you won’t be alone–I promise.” I hugged her and kissed her.

“C’mon girl, let’s go in and change into something tidier and you can wash your face and help me make some mince pies.” I took her hand and after locking the garage walked with her into the house.

At about five, the expedition to Southampton returned to warm mince pies and hot chocolate for the children and Simon and Tom as well. Stella came down with Puddin’ and partook of our feast and we listened to some carols on the radio.

The house felt full and had we been eating canapés and drinking mulled wine it would have been a real traditional Christmas scene, but to us unbelievers, it was one of nostalgia rather than religion–but it was still nice.

Tom took me to one side and apart from snaffling another mince pie, he said, “I lang dreamt o’ this place full o’ bairns at Christmas, and ye’ve made it happen fae me. Thank ye, Cathy.”

“Just wait until tomorrow, Daddy, we have another two coming with Pippa.”

“Och, tha’ll be brilliant, jest brilliant.”

“I hope so, Daddy–I really hope so.”

“Ach it will, I trust ye implicitly.”

“I hope so.”

A little later I managed to grab Danny and took him into the utility room and shut the door behind us.

“’Ave I done somethin’ wrong?” he asked.

“I don’t know–yet. Trish says you told her something earlier.”

“I told her lots of thin’s.”

“Come off it, Danny, don’t mess me about–I’m too busy to play games with ten year olds. So give.”

“I promised I wouldn’t tell no one.”

“I think I might be the exception there, and as she is my responsibility as my daughter, I think you’d better tell me.”

“I said I’d tell nobody.”

“So that includes me?”

“Yeah, you’re like someone in’t you? So yeah.”

“I could make one phone call and have you sent to a children’s home tonight.”

“Yeah, so? I ain’t gonna tell you.”

I smiled at him. “Can you honour that pledge forever?”

“Wossa pledge?”

“A promise.”

“Yeah, I s’pose so.”

I hugged him–“Trish is a very special little girl, she deserves to be allowed to live her life in peace. Thank you.” I kissed him on the forehead.

“WhattidIdo?” he exclaimed.

“You proved that you have started to heal the past, young man–and I’m very proud of you. I hope your confidence in this matter won’t mean you tell Billy anything about this?”

“Nah, if he can’t see it for ‘imself, tough innit?”

“Good man.” I patted him on the shoulder and we went back to the party.

“Auntie Cathy, do you think someone will eventually be my family?”

“I can’t answer that, Danny, but from what I’ve seen of you recently, I can’t see why not. You’re an okay kid.”

He squeezed my hand and I felt my throat form a lump–I can’t, I don’t have time or the energy–I really don’t.