The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike) Part 1284 by Angharad Copyright © 2011 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

Staying at the Whiteheads had meant a doubling of duties for me, insofar as I used to go home to cook, clean and do some laundry. Simon, Tom and Danny ate out at lunchtimes–well Danny had a school meal–or at least that was what I was paying for. Why he insisted on staying with the men, I don’t know, possibly a boy thing, which was why I used to go back and make a couple of day’s meals and leave them in the fridge.

Sometimes I’d still be there when Simon came home, especially on days when Jenny collected the girls. It made the relationship seem odd, but he was staying to look after Danny and keep a quiet eye on Tom, who wasn’t getting any younger.

Maureen of course made the job a priority, which is why it was finished so quickly however, they did have one sticking point–they found some human bones when they were digging the footings of the wall furthest from the house. The police were called as the coroner’s agents, although it was obvious the bones were pretty old.

An osteo-archaeologist was summoned from nearby Bournemouth University, who suggested they were probably pre-Roman. They did a quick exhumation and a further investigation showed some grave goods. They were Bronze Age beaker people and about three or four thousand years old. It held up the building for about a week.

That week, I had to take the girls with me to see the graves–Danny was in his element and suggested he might like to become an archaeologist once he retired from professional football of course.

I listened to one of the diggers trying to explain to Livvie how long ago three thousand years was–like five hundred times as long as she has been on the planet–but he did reasonable job, he did it counting paces as centuries across the garden.

Trish, naturally, was discussing the finer points of the pottery–she’d looked it up on the internet the day before–with the dig supervisor from Wessex Archaeology. It was like having Time Teamin the garden.

In between all this, I was trying to see Stella once a week at the clinic. She wasn’t happy there but she knew she had to stay there or somewhere similar for the sake of her baby. I didn’t see Gareth or hear from him–he’d apparently been very upset by Stella’s decision and didn’t come to visit her afterwards.

“Let me talk to him,” I pleaded with her.

“No, he deserves better than some loony who might try to kill him.”

“Not once you’ve got your tubes tied.”

“You can’t be certain about that, nor can the doctors. I like him too much to put him at risk.”

“But this one will be his, doesn’t he have a right to see his own son.”

“Son?” she choked, “I don’t want a boy baby, I want another little girl.”

“You should have thought about that when you were busy making him–anyway, I could be wrong, it was just what popped out of my mouth, I wasn’t thinking.”

“Your hunches are usually right, well that just about puts the icing on the cake–how the hell am I supposed to bring up a baby boy?”

“We’ll help, why won’t you let Gareth.”

“I don’t want him to see me like this.”

“Stella, he’s seen all sorts of things working in a hospital or wherever it was he worked as a student.”

“I don’t care, he deserves better so if I keep out of the way he can find someone less of a problem and settle down with them. He won’t need the stress of two small children and a loony wife, will he?”

“Isn’t that for him to decide? How can you possibly know what he thinks if you don’t talk to him?”

“I said no.”

“I know what you said but I feel you’re being unreasonable.”

We argued like this for a good hour and I had a splitting headache when I left. On the way home I phoned Gareth on his mobile.

“Cathy, to what do I owe this honour?”

“I’m calling to see how you are, I’ve just been to see Stella.”

“Oh–how is she?”

“Mostly okay, the pregnancy is going well and the baby is fine–at least that’s what she told me, she had an antenatal exam a few days ago.”

“Oh good.” He sounded awful.

“Look, Gareth, I’m probably speaking out of turn and she’ll blind me when she finds out, but she’s told me she wants to live back at the farmhouse. Tom’s having an extension done.”

“Yeah, I thought as much, I saw the builders there the other day when I went past.”

“If she–no; let me start that again. Would you be willing to live with her there if I can get her to change her mind? I mean live with us, but you’d have a sitting room and a bedroom.”

“I don’t care where I live, Cathy.”

“Just remember it would be a bit of a culture shock moving in with my rabble.”

“That doesn’t worry me too much.”

“The sixty four dollar question is, do you want to? In other words do you still love her?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Watch where you say things like that, I did and ended up married.”

He laughed down the phone, “How can you keep so cheerful when this sort of thing has happened?”

“I try to see life’s issues as challenging rather than hindrances–just another thing for me to get round, over or through.”

“Am I going to be a distraction for you?” This was the one topic I was trying to avoid thinking about–he knew that I fancied him, and I knew it was reciprocated.

“We could be for each other if we allowed it to be, I think the answer is we don’t allow it to become an issue.”

“Wow–are you always this clear headed?”

“Meeee? No way, except when it comes to dormice and they run rings round me anyway.”

“I always thought that was cats?”

“They do too, but I haven’t had one of those since I was a kid–besides, I could just see Trish trying to rebuild birds and other prey items it brought home.”

“Oh–well that would be different, what’s her surname?”

“Yes.” I replied.

“Yes? That’s a funny name.”

“Eh?” it wasn’t just Stella who was everso slightly bonkers.

“You said her name was, Yess, or something.”

“No, you asked if her name was Watts and said it was.”

“Oh, see I’m not even living there and we’re talking at cross purposes. It isn’t going to work is it, Cathy?”

“How d’you know if you don’t try?” I paused and then asked, “Why did you want to know Trish’s name?”

“Your description of her trying to repair dead birds and furry things–I wondered if her name was Frankenstein?”

“No but she has that same intellectual naivety that the scientist in the story possessed.”

“Intellectual naivety? She’s as sharp as a needle.”

“Intellectually yes, she has amazing cognitive skills but she is only six years old and at times a very young six.”

“Oh, I see–but if she gets her brains from you, you’re anything but emotionally naive?”

“She doesn’t get anything from me, she’s adopted.”

“Oh but she has the same surname you had, I wondered if you were her–um–no forget it.”

“You wondered if I was her father?”

“I said, forget it.”

“Gareth, my body was in limbo until I started taking hormones a few years ago. I didn’t have a puberty, testosterone passed me by.”

“That’s why you’re such a beautiful woman, you never were a boy were you?”

“Only on paper.”

“Is this going to work, Cathy? I have a horrible feeling that I won’t have the strength to carry it through.”

“Have a think about it, I have to convince Stella it’s what she wants yet, so take your time. I’ll speak to you again.”

“I hope so, Cathy, I do hope so.”