Wuthering Dormice (aka Bike) Part 879 by Angharad Copyright © 2010 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

Stella and Tom were wonderful–with Julie’s help, they put the kids to bed–so when I got home at nearly ten o’clock, all I had to do was have a snack and go to bed. Tom had bought a demonstrator Freelander and used it to go and get fish and chips for everyone except me. It was just as well, I couldn’t have faced anything bigger than a sandwich if I’d tried.

I was pleased with Julie’s seeming transformation from useless to helpful in such a short time, and I told her so. I also told her that if she kept it up, I’d buy her something nice at the end of the month–such as an iPod. Her face lit up and she asked if she could have an iPhone. I agreed we could look at them and depending upon price we could get one–but she’d have to pay the cost of running it out of her wages from Simon. She seemed pleased with that idea. I smiled because I knew she would want to spend most of that on clothes and shoes and so on.

The only good news was another cheque from Erin saying she’d sold our dormouse film to the US, so I was several thousand pounds better off. I decided that once the shops were accessible, we’d all have a new outfit, including the boys.

I needed to speak to Nora Cunningham about the boys. She’d been supposed to collect them on the fourth and we’d now gone well past that. Okay the snow was a factor but she could have phoned. I was beginning to think I’d been set up–nothing new there then.
Once the future of the boys was decided, we’d have to let them in on Julie’s and Trish’s secret–before things got out of hand. Otherwise the kids seemed to be gelling quite well–at least so far, there were no major fights and they had been indoors quite a long time during the past few days.

I told Tom and Stella what had happened at the hospital; they were both concerned as this sort of thing could be difficult to contain. However, I went to bed and zonked. I was asleep by eleven and didn’t wake until the girls came into me about eight. They knew I was tired so waited a whole extra hour–I think I know why I love them.

At a lazy breakfast, Tom looked quite serious. “What’s the matter, Daddy, regret buying the Land Rover?”

“Nae, it wis BBC Radio Solent, news.”

“Oh,” I understood at once.

At nine I went to listen to the radio, I wasn’t exactly surprised but the pit of my stomach felt a cold sensation.

”The search is on to discover the identity of the Angel of Mercy who has apparently visited the Queen Alexandra hospital again, healing two seriously sick children.
The hospital are playing down the incidents, saying that normal clinical protocols were followed and that means total confidentiality regarding any patient in their care.
However, we believe that one of the patients was a baby girl who was brought back to life after some time. Dr Samuel Rose, a senior consultant in paediatrics, said, “Such reports are exaggerated, young babies frequently appear to recover some time after they appear to cease breathing or heartbeat. They appear to go into hibernation mode, especially when body temperature drops as low as in this case.”

Is she an angel or even a visitor from another planet, as has been suggested by medium and psychic investigator, Norman Saxon.”

The news on telly was worse, somehow they’d managed to do an interview with Norman Saxon–a name to conjure with–and he is obviously as mad as a hatter.

”These beings from another dimension visit us quite frequently to help individuals who are experiencing problems. They appear as normal men and women but can disappear in an instant, which explains why no one seems to see where this Angel of Mercy goes–Well I can tell you, she returns to her own dimension through a portal–a gateway caused by a rift in time and space. She’s also told me that she will return when the opportunity arises–the portal has apparently closed. Her name is a bit strange but sounded like Herrinder Heilung. If she contacts me again, I’ll let you know.”

“That’s soonds vaguely German,” said Tom watching the broadcast over my shoulder.

“What does?” I asked trying not to laugh at all this loony’s whacky ideas.

“Herrinder heilung.” He hummed, “My German is pretty rusty but heilung is something to do with health or healing. Herrinder doesn’t ring any bells–hang on, if he’d said, herrin der as twa words instead o’ ane, that would be somethin’ like mistress o’ healing. Is he clever enough tae think o’that?”

“I have no idea, Daddy, he’s as nutty as a dormouse dinner.”

“That’s a new ane on me,” he said smiling, repeating it to himself as he went back to his study. He’d decided to stay home in case I needed him to fend off the press. It didn’t look likely this time.

The helicopter crew knew who I was, I’d had to give them my name but I’d just said, ‘Cathy Watts’ forgetting until after I’d said it that I was married. It wasn’t a Freudian slip, but maybe a bit of playing things down. If I’d said Lady Cameron, they’d have remembered for certain.

It was very cold outdoors but I allowed the kids to go and play in the garden provided they kept away from anyone who might call. If anyone did visit they weren’t to tell them anything about any of us, but to come and tell Tom, Stella or me, immediately.
They were going to build a snowman, so I left them to it–I had bigger fish to fry. I found Nora Cunningham’s mobile number and called it. It rang for quite a while before anyone answered it.

“Hello?”

“Hello, is that Nora?”

“Yes, who is that?”

“Cathy Cameron–remember you left two children here for Christmas?–Well we’ve eaten both of them, got any more?”

She roared with laughter, “I had completely forgotten.”

“What? How can you forget two kids?”

“Very easily–it’s been crazy here since we moved, calming all the kids down and the staff has been a nightmare. Then I was ill with swine flu–I don’t feel right yet. The last straw was my car got totalled in a multiple pile up–I wouldn’t have minded but I was stationary at the time, so between the whip lash and the air bag, which broke my nose, I haven’t felt that special.”

I chuckled at this, “I’m not surprised, Norah.”

“How did you get on with the kids?”

“It was okay, they were quite well behaved and get on with the girls quite well.”

“Could you keep ‘em for a few more days?”

“I’ll have to, you wouldn’t get through the snow at present. It needs a four by four to go anywhere, except on foot, ski or dog-sled.”

“It’s not too bad here, just a dusting really, about an inch. So is that alright–I mean them staying longer with you? I’ll increase the grant you get.”

“What grant?” I asked.

“We usually pay a set fee per child per week–you get it for Trish, anyway, don’t you?”

“No–I had a small amount from social services, but nothing much.”

“Oh, I’ll sort that out for you and get it back dated. I’ll let you know when I can come to collect them, is there a better day or time?”

“I think rather than you collecting them, we need to discuss with you and the boys, what they’d like to do.”

“I think I know what that will be.”

“Do you? I don’t–so aren’t you prejudging the issue?”

“Oh come off it, Cathy–where would you rather go, a children’s home in Wantage, or stay with a family whose holiday home is a castle in Scotland?”

“I thought every Englishman’s home was his castle?”

“Very funny–as you’re now at best a sympathiser–at worst a defector–to those ‘orrible ‘aggis-bashers–that’s rich coming from you.”

“I come from Bristol, remember?”

“Were you born there?”

“Um–no, I was born in Dumfries–my parents were visiting my paternal grandmother.”

“So you’re an ‘orrible ‘aggis basher yourself?”

“Nah–a Bristolian, whatever gave you that ideal?”

“Don’t you mean Idea?”

“That’s what I said, ideal.”

“No, you said ideal but you meant idea.”

“I’m from Bristol, we add an ‘L’ to any vowel at the end of a word. Bristol–a bridge over the Stow, or Bristow, equals Bristol.”

“I thought you lot were Welshmen who couldn’t swim, but it’s worse, you’re beyond the pale–well Hadrian’s Wall at any rate.”

“It’s like I had a choice?”

“Yes, you should have waited until you got home.”

“She was there for two weeks.”

“So, first babies are often two weeks late.”

“I already was.”

“Oh.”

“Mummy,” Trish handed me a business card. I glanced at it and shuddered. John Jackson, Human Interest Correspondent, The Evening Echo.

“I have to go, Nora.”

“Troubles?”

“A bit of pest control.”