The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike) Part 1568 by Angharad Copyright © 2011 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

The next day was Christmas Eve, and that meant all hands to the pumps. Simon had gone into the bank, to an office in Portsmouth, to sign some letters and speak with his team. He takes over officially after New Year so he’s been picking his senior management team–actually most are the ones who were there before–but he likes to pretend he’s in charge.

I spent the morning doing last minute shopping hoping the butcher would deliver all the stuff I’d ordered after I’d got home. Danny and Livvie came with me and we flew round the supermarket with a long list of things.

Then it was home and tidying everything away and clearing up. I nearly didn’t hear the butcher call because I was busy with the vacuum cleaner on the stairs. Trish heard the bell and answered the door. I paid the man and she helped me load the turkey and other bits into the fridge–thank goodness I remembered to make some space for it.

I left them all with bits to do and sneaked out for a short while, returning without any of them noticing. If they had, I’d have said I went to top up the car with diesel. I came back into the house carrying some logs and set about lighting the fire in the lounge. The bed of the hearth was still warm from the previous fire so the kindling caught very quickly and within minutes the logs were starting to crackle and spit as they began to burn. I put the fireguard up and switched on the lights on the tree. It wasn’t my favourite time of year but it looked as if Christmas was on its way.

Tonight we were having a steak and kidney pie, so I made the pastry–like hell–I had some premade stuff which works just as well and takes half the effort. I rolled it with Trish watching me, and fitted it to the large dish I was going to use. I took the meat and mushrooms with some onion, which had been simmering for a short time and spooned it into the pastry lined dish then rolled a lid for the pie, making a vent in the centre which I lined with a little rim of pastry and Trish then helped me decorate the pie with leaves we cut from the remainder of the pastry. I painted it with milk, and popped it in the oven.

The bits of pastry which were left over, I let Trish roll into a small turnover which we filled with some mincemeat–which is anything but meat, being a mixture of chopped fruits and spices and used to fill the Christmas mince pies. The originals had real meat in them but these days we use sweetmeats. We popped that in the oven as well and an hour later, we each had a little slice of Trish’s mince pie with a drink of tea.

This year I had hoped to make my own stuffing, oven drying the breadcrumbs and so on, but with Jenny gone, I had to save time and use a packet one. They’re not too bad but it isn’t the same–but like so much of home cooking, it is time consuming, chopping onion and sage, so as I said, it would be a packet variety. I usually added some garlic and one or two other bits and pieces to make it more memorable, but that was for tomorrow.

Julie was out this evening and I had cautioned her about drinking and driving, saying that if she hurt herself, her operation would be postponed indefinitely, and I know Simon would reconsider funding it if she was done for drink driving. I hoped I could trust her.

Caroline was well enough to dish up dinner, so I dashed off to Southampton to see Jenny. I’d heard she was doing quite well considering her injuries and I’d bought her a dressing gown, nightie and slippers for a Christmas present.

I entered the ward and her bed was pointed out. She was sitting in a wheel chair and chatting to another patient. When she saw me she looked in pain, but I think that was more embarrassment than anything. I hadn’t seen her to speak with since her accident.

“Hello, Jenny, how are you?”

“Pretty good, thanks, Cathy.”

“I’m glad to hear it. I’ve brought your Christmas present. It’s all labelled so you’ll be able to see which is from whom.”

“You’re very kind.”

“Is that a surprise?” I asked in mock horror.

“No, of course not–you were the best boss ever.”

“Still am, if you want to continue working for me.”

“What? You’d take me back after what I did?”

“I never let you go, so you still have a month’s notice to work.”

She seemed unable to work out if I was joking or not. I was, as it happened, but I did want her back, even if she wasn’t that capable of working.

“Then you sack me.”

“Did I say anything about that?”

“Um–no.” She looked into her lap and the tears came–they had to–to wash away her guilt. She did steal from me, which wasn’t very nice but then she was easily led and had fallen for the wrong sort of bloke, who abused her and pushed off and then she’d jumped off the motorway bridge and miraculously survived. “I’m so sorry, Cathy, I really am.”

I sat with her and held her while she sobbed her apologies, which I knew were heartfelt. I also knew she wanted to come back, but felt that her place had been taken by Caroline. I suppose it had, or rather some of her chores had been taken over by Caroline, but no one had replaced her.

The catharsis over, we drank a cuppa together and she brought me up to date on her progress, it would still take months before they discharged her, as she needed physio and other things to keep her going. I also could see she was on a catheter bag for urine–not unexpected in a spinal injury. I knew that once I got her home I could help her to regain some of her previous skills and possibly some of her mobility. However, I couldn’t say any of that until she came home, which so far she hadn’t said she would.

“I’d like you to come back to work for me.”

“Like this?” she pointed to the wheelchair.

“Half a loaf is better than no bread at all.”

“For who?” she looked at me with more tears in her eyes. “I don’t know if I could face you all, sitting in this thing.”

“At least you’d be amongst friends who love you lots.”

“It’s so tempting, but what would I be able to do?”

“I’ll find things for you to do, don’t you worry, and Caroline still needs some supervision.”

“I’d be queering her pitch though, wouldn’t I?”

“She knows you’re coming back, she is more than happy for it. In fact she rather looks forward to it.” That was speculation, I didn’t know any of it other than we had discussed Jenny’s return with Caroline who hadn’t voiced any objections.

“Gosh, it’s a lot to think about.”

“Well you have a little think while I speak with the ward sister.” I went off to speak with the woman I assumed was in charge and she was in navy blue, which is the usual colour of sister grade nurses.

I asked her a couple of questions and she made a short phone call. “Okay,” she said.

“Great. I’ll tell her.”

“Okay, kiddo, here’s what we’re doing. We’re packing.”

“Packing?”

“Yes, you’re coming home for Christmas.”

“What?” She burst into tears.

“Unless you’d rather stay in this place?”

“No,” she sobbed shaking her head in disbelief.

I left her to recover and continued putting her stuff in her case. We cleared her locker and she put her personal things in her handbag.

“How have you managed this?”

“I offered Simon as a hostage.”

“You what?” Then she worked out what I’d said and laughed. “You’re still as crazy as ever.”

“So they say. The bad news is I have to bring you back on Tuesday.”

“So, at least I’ll get a bit of a break.”

“Absolutely, so let’s go Jo–or should that be Jen?”

“How are you going to cope with me and all your children?”

“I’m not, they can look after you, and you can look after them–I’m just going to cook my dinner and get rolling drunk.”

“Can I get drunk too?”

“No, not on my booze,” I said with a serious face then we both laughed like drains.

“I haven’t got the children anything.”

“Any what?”

“Presents.”

“They get plenty–the real gift to them will be seeing you–that’s better than something in gift wrap under the tree.” I’d actually bought something small for her to give them, which were in the back of the car. If they hadn’t released her I’d have said I’d brought them back from her. If they’d wondered how she’d got them, I’d have had to make something up.

The sister gave me a bag of bits which Jenny would need to use and that included her medication. She gave me a quick chart of that, mainly pain killers but also something to help with bowels and so on. You don’t think about all this when you can walk.

I was given a quick course in transferring her from a chair to a bed and they loaned me a special board thing as well. I had to sign for it all and finally, half an hour later we were going down in the lift and her first sight of freedom for weeks.

“I can’t believe I’m going home for Christmas,” she said, tears streaming down her face.

“Mother Christmas strikes again,” I said loudly as the door of the lift opened and some old couple gave me a very funny look.