Wuthering Dormice (aka Bike) Part 968 by Angharad Copyright © 2010 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

“Yes it was I who did the dormouse film.”

“How did you train it to jump down your blouse?”

“This isn’t one of your dirty little films, is it, Arthur?”

He blushed, “No, dear, it was on the computer, on Youtube.”

“That happened during a press conference on my campaign for saving British mammals, she was spooked by the flashes of the cameras.”

“She went somewhere nice and warm to hide.” Uncle Arthur almost licked his lips and I felt rather vulnerable as well as disgusted.

“I thought you meant my dormouse film, the one the BBC showed.”

“You made a film for the BBC?” Auntie Do seemed impressed suddenly.

I blushed, “Yes, they want me to do one on harvest mice.”

“So you make lots of money?” she queried.

“No, my aim is to raise awareness of the plight of these creatures–there is talk that a programme on the Scottish Wild Cat, might also be on the cards.” I heard the phone ringing and thought one of the others could answer it.

A moment later there was a knock on the door, and in bobbed Julie, “Excuse me, ma’am, it’s the controller of BBC television, he would like to talk to you about your film on Wild Cats.”

“Eh? Excuse me, Auntie Do, Uncle Arthur–do have another Hobnob.” I followed Julie out of the room and into Tom’s study. Stella was there holding Puddin’ on her knee.

“You buggers can hear what we’re saying, can’t you?” I remarked.

“Yes, an’ it’s so funny, Cathy–stuck up old prude that she is,“ Stella laughed.

We listened, “She doesn’t seem to know anything about the pearls, I don’t know if she’s just stupid or if her idiot father pawned them.”

“I told you it was waste of time,” Arthur whined.

“They’re part of my birthright, why should that disgusting creature have them?”

“She’s had three babies, Doreen.”

“So she says, I think she’s got too good a figure to have had three babies.”

“She has got a nice figure,” Arthur said wistfully.

“Just you remember she used to be a boy.”

“Yes, dear.”

“Right, here you go, Julie, don’t you dare drop her.” Stella handed the baby to Julie and Puddin’ immediately began to chuckle as if she was in on the joke.

“What’s going on?”

“Listen,” she hissed and I heard the door open and Julie’s voice, say, “Sorry, um, Mr and Mrs Porter, my babysitter let me down, would you like any more tea?”

“That’s your baby?”

“Um, yes, Mrs Porter.”

“What’s her name?”

“It’s a boy, Mrs Porter.” I gasped as I listened.

“Why is sh–he wearing a pink dress?”

“It’s a tradition of the Camerons, all children are dressed as girls until they’re six years old and they get sent to boarding school.”

“But he or she isn’t a Cameron baby is it, he’s yours?”

“Yes and yes.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Well, Master Simon is the daddy.”

“But you’re the mother?”

“Yes, and he’s due his feed in a moment, I hope you don’t mind.”

“What’s she doing?” I whispered to Stella.

“Pretending she’s going to breastfeed Pud.”

“That should make Uncle Arthur’s day.” I smirked.

“In you go–chase her out.” Stella pushed me towards the dining room door.

I swept back into the room, as Julie started to unbutton her blouse. “Julie, please–do that somewhere else, if you don’t mind.”

“Sorry, ma’am, but you know Master Simon said we weren’t to leave anyone unattended in the house.”

“That’s very kind of your maid, Catherine.”

“No, Mrs Porter, it was after we ‘ad some silverware stolen, don’t trust nobody, says the master.” She sounded like something out a Dickens novel.

“That was strangers, Julie, these are my relations, surely you don’t think they’d be trying to steal anything–do you?”

“Dunno, ma’am, the master is a relation too, and he took something.”

“What? What did he purportedly take?”

“Me knickers, ma’am.”

I think Auntie Do stopped breathing–I must admit; I nearly did too. “Simon took your knickers, girl?”

Julie nodded vigorously.

“How can you be so sure he took them?” I demanded.

“I was wearin’ them at the time, ma’am.”

Really,” gasped Auntie Do, “Catherine I think you need to have words with your so called husband and this–this trollop. Come, Arthur, I think we need to give her the room to do it.”

“Can’t you stay for dinner, we’re having stewed badger,” I smiled at my visitors.

“Stewed badger–you can’t eat badger.”

“You get used to it after a while.”

“Good gracious–what’s wrong with a joint of beef or chicken?” Auntie Do protested.

“We have to eat whatever Simon shoots, he was aiming at a pheasant and hit the badger,” I explained.

“Thank you but no, Catherine, we have to be getting back to Swindon.”

“How is the place of roundabouts?”

“It’s very nice there, Catherine, maybe you should bring your little girls up to see us sometime.”

“They do like their badger burgers but fox fingers are their favourite. Are you all right, Uncle Arthur, you do look rather pale?”

“He’ll be fine as soon as we get him into the fresh air–put your breast away young woman,” she snapped at Julie who was pulling her bra down under her boob. I had to rush them to the door, I needed a wee and if I started laughing I’d wet my drawers.

“Would Great Aunt Dodo like some of my cannabis cakes, Mummy?” Trish appeared by the front door with a cake tin in her hand–we’d made rock cakes the other day.

“Cannabis?” Auntie Doreen glared at me.

“It’s good for my period pain,” I chipped in.

“Thank you, but no, Patricia.”

“The ecstasy helps you to lose weight, doesn’t it, Mummy? And you look as if you could do with some help, Great Aunt Dodo.”

“Ecstasy?”

“Don’t worry, there’s only one tablet per cake–we ran out of amphetamines,” Trish grinned.

“You’re giving your children drugs?” Auntie Do’s face was contorted in horror.

“Only when they’re really good,” I smiled.

“Here, Mummy,” Trish shoved the tin in my hands, “I gotta go and bookmark this site for Daddy, there’s a woman there with the biggest boobies I’ve ever seen.”

Trish skipped off the epitome of innocence, “And don’t hack into the police computer again,” I called after her. “She’s a rascal sometimes when she gets on a computer. Oh would you like some cakes?”

“NO THANK YOU,” she said loud enough for Stella to hear it without her baby alarm, which was what they were listening on. “Come along, Arthur, never mind watching that trollop’s chest, take me home to Swindon–ARTHUR, NOW,” she bellowed.