The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike) Part 1213 by Angharad Copyright © 2010 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

The children rushed off once they’d finished murdering ‘Happy Birthday.’ They returned moments later with cards and presents. I hugged them all and while Jenny made me some tea, I opened my presents. I thanked them all and tried to force down a banana and some toast.

“If you’re taking the girls to school, I suggest you get dressed, Babes.”

I glanced at the clock, it was nearly seven thirty. Taking the mug of tea with me I dashed upstairs and into the shower–after removing my nightdress–honestly. Then a quick towel dry, deodorant and into some clothes. It was cold, so I pulled on a sweater and jeans with a pair of relatively flat boots.

After drying my hair and brushing it back into a ponytail, I slipped on a scrunchie which nearly matched my top. When I got down again with my empty mug, Simon offered me a hug. “Aren’t you curious about what I got you for your birthday?”

“You told me, you’re taking me to dinner.”

“You’d be a cheap date.”

“I can eat my share.”

“Oh, I know that. But don’t you usually get something as well?”

“Yes, but you said you had to get something for Julie, so I’m happy with dinner.”

“Yes, okay–you’d better got off with the girls, it may take longer in the snow.”

I marshalled the troops and the girls were giggling as we went out the door. The cars were all covered in ice and snow. I pointed my key at the Merc and squeezed the remote and nothing happened except something bleeped from behind one of the garages. I clicked again and the same thing happened. By now the girls were almost hysterical with laughter and I was getting my knickers well and truly twisted if not knotted.

“What is so damned funny?” I demanded from the girls, who fell about laughing all the more. I was getting really angry and screeched at them, “Tell me, dammit.”

With tears of laughter in her eyes and an expression of fear, Trish said, “Look at the key, Mummy.” Then she gave a nervous laugh and they all started giggling again.

I glanced at the key, it was different. “Okay, where are my car keys?” I said loudly and was met with more nervous laughter. “Jesus Christ,” I spat and went to go back in doors when I noticed Simon standing by the door.

“Problems?”

I went to push past him, “Not if I get the right keys.”

“Those are your keys, the ones with the dormouse.”

“They can’t be–they’re not opening my car.”

“Let me try.” He pressed the button and the peep from just round the corner happened again. “Yep, working fine.”

“No it isn’t–nothing has happened down there.” To make my point I waved my hand at my car. “It hasn’t been gone that long for you to forget what it looks like.”

“That isn’t your car,” he said.

“Yes it is,” I insisted.

“Oh no it isn’t.”

“Well whose is it then?”

“Yours is round the side there.”

“But this is a different key, it has no Mercedes logo on it.”

“It’s probably the spare key.”

“I didn’t even know we had one.”

“Cathy, how long have you had this car?”

“A few months, why?”

“What is the number?”

“I don’t know, do I?”

“We’re going to be late, Mummy,” urged Livvie.

“Who moved it?” I began to ask but was almost dragged round the end of the outbuildings where I was confronted by a large silver SUV. “What’s this?”

“Your car, Mummy,” said Trish and they all fell about laughing.

“A new one, Mummy,” shrieked Meems.

I pulled at the door handle and it opened. I got in and Si strolled up to me, “I hope you like it.”

“It’s beautiful, darling”–I hugged him and thanked him.

“Wees gonna be wate, Mummy,” said Meems loudly.

We all jumped in and I felt a familiarity with the car although I’d never actually driven one before–but it was just like my dream. I got the girls to school despite the snowy roads. I did drive carefully because it was quite a bit bigger than my little Merc.

“That was my old car, wasn’t it?” I asked the girls and they laughed again.

“Yes, but Daddy asked us not to tell you, he changed your key last night.”

“This car has been here all night and I didn’t see it?”

“Yes, Daddy did have a cover over it to keep the snow and ice off it and to help hide it.”

“I’m going to call it Pepper,” I announced to the girls.

“Why?” they chorused.

“Because, Cayenne is form of pepper.”

“So it’s a posh Cayenne?”

“Very posh, Trish, but the actual make is Porsche–it’s German and they usually make sports cars.”

“Wike Daddy’s?” asked Meems.

“Yes, but probably faster than his.”

“This will go faster than, Daddy’s racer?” asked an incredulous Trish.

“No, this one won’t but most of their others will–it’s the same make as Jimmy’s car.”

“We’re gonna be late,” said Billie who was shivering, and with that they all ran into school.

“Nice car, Lady Cameron, but I thought you had a sports car.”

“That was a friend’s, this one is more suitable for the school run.”

“Especially this weather, eh?” commented the headmistress.

“Yes, I suppose so.” I blushed it looked so new.

“Have you thought about another date for your talk?”

It was the last thing I’d had in my mind, “I don’t have my diary with me,” I lied.

“Another day, then?”

“Yes of course,” I said and made my getaway in my shiny new vehicle.

I was on tenterhooks the whole time I was in the supermarket in case someone bumped or scratched it. However, I did a full shop and filled both the boot and the back seats with food. It was very nice, but the Mondeo beat the pants off it for carry space.

As I drove home I tried to think what had happened in the dream and avoid it being repeated in real life. So far I felt safe, Gareth had brought the one in my dream, this one was presumably delivered by the garage. If we went out in Simon’s car this evening, it wouldn’t get stolen so Tom wouldn’t collapse and so on. I felt sure all I had to do was one or two things differently and the outcome would be different too.

Look I know this theory is untested, I’m not a scientist for nothing, but I’m trying my best to hang on to reality here, and not doing too well at present. The last thing I needed was to get stuck with some sort of nightmare ‘Groundhog Day’ scenario like Bill Murray did in the film of that name. Surely that was impossible, wasn’t it–like a Sisyphean task, pushing the boulder up the hill only to watch it roll back down and having to repeat it for all eternity. Feels a bit like trying to educate students or that endless yarn on the internet about some transsexual dormouse or other.

Unloading the shopping, Simon gave me a hand so I gave him a present–a box of his favourite biscuits–I know I shouldn’t, but he does like plain chocolate Hobnobs.