The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike) Part 1118 by Angharad Copyright © 2010 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

I wasn’t entirely surprised that Howard knew I was Simon’s wife, and hadn’t been convinced that the pretence was a good idea. That he had walked rather than been fired seemed to resolve one problem–his vacancy would produce another.

Simon left me after a quick hug and a kiss, mainly to see who could be temporarily promoted to fill the gap. I went food shopping, although I did feel a bit over dressed for it. Most other women were in jeans and I was tottering about in four inch heels and designer suit.

As I paid for a large trolley load of food and cleaning supplies, the woman behind admired my suit.

“I do like your suit, my dear,” she said tapping me gently on the arm.

“Thank you, I’m quite fond of it myself.”

“You don’t see many women actually dressed up these days, it’s all slopping about in jeans and saggy tee shirts, or shorts and tights under a dress–I ask you, do they feel the cold or something?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted, “I know my own daughters wear things I wouldn’t put together, but surely some of that is generation gap and its application to fashions. I know I’ve worn things which I’m sure upset my own mother.”

She looked at me sideways, “I know you from somewhere, don’t I?”

“Do you, I don’t know. I’m Cathy Cameron.”

“Oh, for a moment, I thought you were another Cathy, someone to whom I owe my life.”

“I’m not aware of anyone owing me anything much at all, let alone their life.” I blushed.

“Well this young woman hauled me out of the river with her dog’s lead.”

“Oh,” I said and blushed. “You’re not the newspaper chap’s wife are you?”

“It was you?” Her eyes sparkled, “Fancy meeting you in here. Look, let’s go for a coffee, the restaurant isn’t brilliant, but it’s clean.”

I looked at my watch, “I really ought to be going,” I blushed, I should be at home and these shoes were crippling me.

“Oh do come for a coffee, won’t take long.”

Weak willed as ever, I allowed myself to be dragged to the cafeteria and while I watched the shopping, she bought us afternoon tea–minus the seed cake. Why is it that these things happen to me? I mean Simon is far more famous than I and no one ever accosts him and asks if he’s Simon Cameron–perhaps they don’t do that in the city unless they’re serving a summons.”

“I’ve never had a chance to thank you for pulling me out.”

“I didn’t, that was the fire service, all I did was hang on to you until they arrived–nothing really.”

“If you hadn’t, I’d be dead now.”

“In which case, I’m extremely glad I did.” I smiled at her and sipped my tea, which for supermarket stuff, wasn’t too bad.

“Your name was different then wasn’t it?”

I blushed and had to think, I wasn’t Charlie then, was I? No, I was definitely me, because I had Trish with me. “Oh yes, I was Cathy Watts then, I’ve married since.”

“Yes, to a very fortunate Mr Cameron.”

“I hope Simon thinks he’s fortunate.”

“Simon Cameron? Not Henry Cameron’s boy? The banker?”

“Yes, Henry’s my pa in law.”

“I remember Simon and Stella growing up, we were acquaintances of the Camerons, so you’re Lady Cameron, now?”

“So they say–I’m not convinced that it isn’t all hogwash perpetuated by a social elite against the ordinary people.”

“Absolutely, which is fine as long as you’re in–hell if you’re not.”

“I feel in no man’s land, because I don’t fit with the cocktail set, but I don’t regard myself a peasant either.”

“I know the feeling, look why don’t you come to dinner, with hubby of course, and I’ll introduce you to some really nice people.”

“It’s very kind of you to ask, but I really don’t have time.”

“Oh, my dear you must make time–mixing is very important and to be seen to be mixing equally important.”

“Lady Townsend, with all due respect, I don’t mix–I just don’t have time, I have seven children to look after plus some work I do for the National Mammal Survey, I’m also trying to produce another film.”

“My dear, you are busy–seven children? Not all yours, I hope–if they are you’ve kept your figure remarkably well.”

“They’re all adopted, but we love them as our own, and I try to spend time with them each day.”

“What sort of ages are they?”

“Three weeks to sixteen years.”

“Goodness, that’s a challenge, but then a young woman like you, I’m sure you’re up to it–at the same time, I hope you have some help. I’m sure Simon can afford it.”

“Yes, I do, and Simon is very generous.”

“So he should be, a fine gal like you needs hanging on to. Well, I’m sorry I can’t persuade you to a dinner party–we could do with some new blood, and someone with balls like you.”

Why did I blush? I can’t say I’m too pleased about the description of having balls or being spunky–because I worked hard not to be such these days. I know, it’s only an expression, and I’m hypersensitive. Maybe I am, but I don’t like the expression anyway–it sounds a bit common to me. Oops, am I a snob? Oh well, can’t be perfect all the time.

I got my shopping home after getting rid of the magnate’s missus. Actually, she was a nice old trout, but I don’t fit in her universe and I’m sure as hell not going to act as her latest show and tell object or curiosity.

Simon was home when I lugged bags of shopping into the kitchen. “Where have you been, Babes, I left you three hours ago?”

“I’d have thought it was blindingly obvious,” I retorted stuffing a bag of groceries in his arms.

“Oh, it doesn’t usually take three hours, does it?”

Only when I have you with me, “No, but I ran into Lady Townsend.”

“What, Malcolm’s wife?”

“Sounds like something from Macbeth.” I laughed.

“She’s a sweetie.”

“That sweetie added half an hour on to my shopping time, and she was trying to inveigle me into going to one of her dinner parties.”

“Trying? People kill to be invited.”

“Not this people. I declined, pleading seven kids, one of whom I must feed or explode.”

“Milking time, is it?” he smirked.

“I wish just for a few hours you could experience what having heavily laden breasts feels like, let alone some little horror using them as teething aids.”

“I think I’ll pass on that one, if you don’t mind. I can’t say the desire to breast feed has ever been on my list of things to do.”

“You don’t know what you’re missing,” I teased.

“I think I’ll cope with the ignorance.”

“Can you finish unloading the groceries, I need to change.”

“Don’t ever change, Cathy–we all love you as you are.”

“If I don’t; I’m going to have milk marks on this suit jacket.” I kicked off my shoes and picked them up before running upstairs, my feet felt so relieved to be free of their torment.

Ten minutes later, dressed in a far more comfortable shirt and jeans, I had tiny wee clamped to my breast and a sense of fulfilment which transcended even hauling rich old biddies from rivers could.