The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike) Part 1101 by Angharad Copyright © 2010 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

“How old is the young woman concerned?” asked the police switchboard.

“Fifteen.”

“Oh, a teenager?”

“Yes.”

“We’ll have a car do a sweep along your road.”

“Is that all?”

“You have no reason to suggest she’s about to harm herself?”

“She did once before, but I found her in time.”

“She has probably gone off in a sulk, but we’ll have the car do a couple of sweeps, what was she wearing?”

“I don’t know, she left without me seeing her.”

“Okay, what’s her name?”

“Julie Kemp.”

“And you’re Mrs Kemp, I take it?”

“No, I’m her foster mother, my name’s Cathy Cameron.”

I checked the baby and then knocked on Tom’s door, I explained what had happened and that I was going checking for her myself. He sleepily agreed to listen out for the others. I dashed up to my room, found my image intensifier and slipping on a coat, put a torch in my pocket and with the dog on the lead, set off to look for her. I paused at the gate, asked the blue light which way and it seemed to indicate the direction towards town. I set off at a brisk pace and the dog kept wanting to stop and sniff lampposts and telegraph poles. Eventually she got the message that I was in a hurry and walked with me.

Thankfully I had a plastic bag with me, because she pooed a bit further on. I cursed her, then scooped it up and popped it in a litter bin–one more irritation and she’d be following it.

I decided that I’d walk fast for a couple of miles because if she was beyond that, she’d have had to have had a lift. It was possible that she’d ordered a taxi or even hitched–neither were without risk to a young woman alone–but the latter would be verging on suicidal.

My heart was beating nineteen to the dozen as I now began to jog along, glad I’d worn trainers and jeans–although my heavy breasts bounced up and down in my bra–wonderful, I thought I could feel something damp running down my chest.

We got beyond the street lights and I donned the image intensifier, as we walked I scanned the fields. I stopped for a moment and asked the blue light which way, and again it directed me–I hoped in the right direction.

We came to a gateway with a footpath running through a field. Surely, she hadn’t come down this way? I consulted the light and it suggested she had. It was pretty dark and I was in danger of falling over the stupid mutt I’d brought with me. I had the dog whistle, so I let her off and concentrated on watching the path through the image intensifier. A little out of the lights from the road and passing traffic I saw something which looked like a group of people. My adrenalin started to flow and I slowed down to a near crawl.

As I got nearer, I could hear arguing–it sounded like a girl and a man, and the girl sounded remarkably like Julie. I crept forward a little further. I was sure it was Julie but who were the blokes?

“Where’s the money?” asked the man roughly.

“You promised me a lift to the city centre and somewhere to stay.”

“Changed me mind–now gimme the money.”

“But you promised me,” Julie was nearly hysterical.

“Tough shit, you little tart,” he raised his arm and backhanded her across the face.

The fear which had been collecting in the pit of my stomach now turned to anger and I tried to assess what I had as weapons–mainly surprise and the dog’s lead–the plastic handle of the retractable lead.

I blew the whistle and heard barking not too far away.

“’Ere, wassat?” asked the other man.

“Some stupid dog, now bitch, where’s the dosh, or do I have to get really nasty.”

I heard Julie pleading not to hit her again. I got closer and realised they might see me against the light from the road. They seemed to have some sort of torch but it wasn’t very bright–a bit like the two assailants.

I circled round them and then crept in really close. I had my torch in one hand and the dog lead in the other. The nasty one was bent over Julie, so I ran in, kicked him hard between his legs from behind following it with another to his back side pushing him onto his face. He made an awful groaning noise as he went down.

The second man I caught full in the face with the dog lead–the plastic box bit, and then did a back kick to his chest. He fell over backwards swearing at me.

I grabbed Julie and her bag and started running with her towards the road. “C’mon girl, leg it!”

“Mummy?” she asked still crying, blood on her face from the blow she’d received.

“Who else, now run.” I switched on the torch and as we ran, Kiki found us and ran alongside us barking.

We stopped at the gate and I looked behind us, the two would-be robbers were following us. We continued running down the road towards home when a police car hove into view. He pulled alongside us. “Everything all right?” Clearly it wasn’t.

Within minutes we had blue lights flashing all over the place and one of them was the dog handler, with two big German shepherds. I was almost hoping they met the two miscreants who’d pursued us.

We got a lift back and made statements at the house, where I made them coffee and sandwiches–they were going to miss their break in dealing with us. It bought us sympathy.

“How come you’ve got one of these?” asked the larger of the two plod, picking up the image intensifier.

“I’m a biologist and do work with dormice, which are nocturnal.”

“Did you see that film a while back about them, well cool that bit of fluff who presented it.”

“That wis ma dochter,” Tom arrived and put his arm round my shoulders.

“Wow, it was a brill film, how d’ya do some of that close up stuff?”

“With great difficulty, I only presented the film, I didn’t film it myself.”

“Aye, she presented it, wrote it, directed it and co-produced it.”

“A very talented lady,” admitted the plod.

“Aye, she’s that a’richt.”

“And she’s your daughter?”

“Aye, and thae young lassie wha sterted a’ this is her dochter.”

“Well either you had her very young or you’re older than you look.”

“She’s my foster daughter. We had a bit of a row and she ran off.”

“So she was the reported runaway?”

“Yes.”

“Ah, a domestic–you didn’t hit her did you?”

“No, the larger of the two men who were arguing with her did that.”

“Then you clobbered them both and the two of you ran off?”

“I told you this before.”

“Yes, I know Mrs Cameron, I’m just checking I understand it, because I have to write a report.”

His radio pipped and he excused himself to talk to it. He came back a few minutes later. “We have reports of two men seen running through people’s gardens not far from where we found you.”

“Which means?”

“It corroborates your story a bit more.”

“I’m no liar.” I asserted angrily.

“I didn’t say you were, but you’re not saying who you really are, are you?”

“Yes, Cathy Cameron, and I’m a biologist at the university.”

“You’re also married to Lord Simon Cameron, so that makes you Lady Cameron if I’m not mistaken.”

“So?”

“You have something of a record with our department.”

“What a criminal record–I have not,” I almost screeched this at him.

“No, madam, shall we say we seem to attend to events in which you feature, about ten times as often as the average godfather.”

“Are you implying that I’m a criminal?”

“Far from it, because usually someone gets busted, whether it’s a bent copper or a regular felon, don’t seem to matter. You’re a regular trouble magnet.”

“I am not, I mean, I didn’t ask those two men to accost my daughter.”

“No, you just rescued her and laid ‘em out.”

“I temporarily disabled them so we could run away.”

“Yeah with kicks in the goolies.”

“Do you have any better suggestions?”

“Not for temporarily disabling–none whatsoever,” he said with a smirk. “I’ve got a good idea who our Laurel and Hardy characters are, so tomorrow I’ll feel a couple of collars and one of them’s balls.”

“Do you have enough evidence for a conviction?”

“That’s not up to me, but I doubt it. However, when I tell him who beat the crap out of him, I doubt he’ll come anywhere near you again.”

“I’d prefer you didn’t, he might want revenge.”

“Nah–because if he even thinks about it, I’ll spread it around that he got duffed by a dolly-bird teacher. He’d never live it down.”

I made a disbelieving face.

“Trust me, I know these two–they’ll be telling stories of being done over by a whole gang to explain their bruises. If someone starts spreading rumours that it was woman who did them both, and single handed, they’ll be a laughing stock.”

“If you’re sure.”

“Don’t worry, these two pond scum won’t bother you or your family again–I mean you might not show mercy next time.” He winked and both police officers left.