The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike) Part 1321 by Angharad Copyright © 2011 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

I slept that night better than I have for quite some time. I relaxed into Simon’s arms and went out like a light waking at six the next morning. Simon was still asleep when I showered, although he was awake when I returned to the bedroom wrapped in a towel with my hair in a turban.

“Yum, I like what I see,” he said, licking his lips.

“I have just spent the past fifteen minutes washing away your body fluids, if you think you’re going to repeat the exercise, think again, buster.” I replied towelling my hair from sopping to damp. Of course in moving my arms the bath towel tucked around my breasts came undone and dropped to the floor before I could grab it.

Simon wolf whistled and I blushed. I have no idea how many times he’s seen me starkers but today I found it embarrassing.

“You know, for someone who’s got half a dozen children, you still have quite a body on you?”

“Yeah, last night it was your body,” I quipped back.

“Eh?”

“I have quite a body on me, last night it was your body that was on me.”

“Why do women always take things literally and out of context?”

“I don’t know, why do we?” I shrugged drying under my breasts where the moisture always remains.

“Duh–that’s why I was asking.”

“Was it?” I turned my back on him and began rubbing a moisturiser cream all over my body–it get’s drier since I had surgery. I rubbed an extra amount on the scar where the knife had entered my chest and penetrated my lung. In lots of ways, I was lucky to be alive.

“God, you have a wonderful arse,” he offered from the bed.

I turned round to view it in the mirror, “Do I? I always thought it was a bit big–all that cycling.”

“No, it’s just right,” he slipped out of bed with a tent in his underpants, “Like the rest of you.”

“Go and have a wee before you do yourself an injury,” I said lightly flipping the tent pole.

“Ouch, do you know how much that stings?” he whined almost running into the loo.

“No,” I answered, and it was true, I didn’t and that wasn’t a case of convenient memory, I just didn’t remember ever getting an erection. Obviously in my case, something didn’t go quite right. I’m happy now that it didn’t because I have more than I ever dreamt I’d have–a husband and family, and a reasonably interesting life–sometimes even a fulfilling one. If someone had told me all this before I went out on the bike that eventful day, I wouldn’t have believed any of it–least of all being married and having children–okay, adopting children. I owe a lot of my happiness to cycling–well that, and a certain homicidal nurse.

I heard the shower running and by the time I was dressed, Simon had washed and dried himself. However, instead of donning his usual white shirt and suit, he pulled on a checked shirt and a pair of corduroy trousers. I glanced at him in surprise.

“Are you not going into the office today?” I asked him.

“No, what are your plans?”

“Nothing that can’t be rescheduled, except taking the girls to school; why?”

He looked at what I was wearing, it was jeans and a tee shirt. “It’s a good job your bum looks good in those.”

“Why? What did you have in mind–but if you want me to change, you’d better say what for?”

“Nah, you’ll be alright I suppose.”

“For what?” I was now feeling irritated by his evasiveness.

“To be introduced to my mother and step-father.”

“You want to go to Arundel?”

“Yes, strike while the iron’s hot–you said you’d come?”

“I did and I meant it. D’you want me to wear a skirt?”

“Might be nice–you’re always in jeans these days.”

“Okay, I’ll change, can you get the girls up and Danny and Julie.”

He went off to wake the troops and I slipped off my jeans and pulled up a pair of tights in shiny, black, opaque material: over these I pulled up a Cameron tartan ladies kilt, which is primarily bright red, and matched it with a black tee shirt. I slipped on my ankle boots, they only have a two inch heel, so I could walk comfortably in them.

I did my makeup, eyeliner and mascara–I’d do some lipstick after breakfast, and opted for a plain gold bangle and gold coloured watch. I put a gold herringbone necklace on and some gold hoop earrings.

I’d combed my hair into a down job, brushing it under at the ends, so it was like a long bob cut and sprayed myself with some eau de toilette — Chanel No5. I’d wear my red jacket with it and use a black bag to match my boots.

The girls were pleased to have their daddy with them for breakfast but I got cross because they were dithering and breakfast was getting messy and running late. I did manage to get a cuppa but that was about it, and I didn’t see Si eat very much. Finally, I got them ready to leave, brushed my teeth and used a reddish toned lipstick, gave myself a further squirt of Chanel, and shepherded them out to the car.

When Simon came out too, and we had to squeeze them all into the back of the Cayene, they were curious as to where we were going.

“Where are you going, Mummy?” asked Trish.

“Who said I’m going anywhere?”

“You’re wearing makeup and smart clothes,” she countered.

“So, occasionally I like to be a bit smarter when doing my shopping.”

“Shopping?” she gasped, “An’ I have to go to dull old school.”

“If I had told you two years ago that you’d be a proper girl and going to a girl’s school, what would you have said?”

“I dunno–probably wouldn’t have believed you.”

“Would you have been excited or pleased?”

“Yes, ’course I would.”

“Well, just be excited and pleased ’cos that’s where you’re going.”

“Duh,” she complained, “That’s no fair, you cheated.”

“Nice bit of Socratic questioning,” commented Simon.

“Was it?” I asked unaware that it had a name.

“Yeah, by selective questioning you cause the other person to change their statement and hopefully their argument; barristers do it all the time.”

“Perhaps I should have done law, I always fancied myself in a gown and wig.”

“Kinky–eh?” Simon chuckled to himself.

“They wear clothes as well, you nit.”

“Damn,” he said and laughed to himself.

“Is Daddy, alwight?” asked Mima.

“Yes, just his dirty sense of humour, Meems, trying to imagine me wearing very few clothes.”

“Oh, siwwee Daddy.”

“I’m glad you didn’t do law, Babes.”

“Why?”

“Well, when Stella knocked you off your bike that day, you’d have sued the arses off us, wouldn’t you? Then, I’d never have got to meet you except in court.”

“I still could sue you–claiming I was just an ordinary bloke till the accident when I started to think I was a woman.”

“You what?” he gasped and nearly drove my car into the back of a lorry.

I chuckled and smirked at him.

“You were already taking pills before then–your medical records would show it.”

I laughed loudly, “Si, sometimes you are so gullible.”

“Bleh,” he said poking out his tongue at me.

The girls giggled behind us although I’m not sure they understood what we were talking about. Part of me hoped they didn’t.

We dropped them off at school, Simon walking them in with me. Fortunately we didn’t see the headmistress, although I made a mental note to look out my rather crumpled copy of the Scottish play and start learning the lines.

Back in the car, we’d held hands as we walked back, he commented, “Getting into character, are you?”

“Character?”

“The tartan–Lady M–no?”

“If I was, it was purely unconscious–in fact I hadn’t thought any more about it.”

“So why the tartan?”

“I thought it might be nice for me to identify with your family as we’re going to meet your mother.”

“God, I hope we don’t meet her,” he winced, “She’s been dead since ninety eight.”

“I was using the term in a very general sense.”

“Yeah, okay–there’s got to be a florist’s in Arundel, so I’ll stop when we get there and buy a bouquet to put on the grave.”

“Okay,” I sat back and listened to Women’s Hour on Radio four.