Easy As Falling Off A Bike pt 1630

The Daily Dormouse.
(aka Bike)
Part 1630
by Angharad

Copyright © 2012 Angharad
All Rights Reserved.
  
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“Jacquie is going to be starting college in September to get her A levels.” I announced and she nearly choked on her tea.

“Good idea,” commented Stephanie who was breastfeeding little Emily.

“Dunno if I could settle back down to do that now,” mused Julie, who would be back at work and college herself next week.

“Between now and then, I’m going to offer you the job of nanny/housekeeper.” I said to Jacquie and Stephanie’s eyes bugged out. “If you want to think about it, that’s up to you.”

“When would I start?” she asked me.

“As soon as you’re ready.”

“How about Monday?”

“Fine with me,” it was now Friday.

“And it’s live-in?”

“There’s room and board, you’ve seen the room?” I asked and she nodded.

“I’ll bring some clothing with me.”

“If you like, Julie could collect a case or two over the weekend, save you carrying it all.”

“Is there a uniform?”

“Uniform? No why?”

“I just wondered.”

“No just wear your ordinary clothes, obviously, we don’t want you walking about looking like an escapee from the rubbish tip, but jeans are fine if you like them, or skirts if you prefer.”

“Do I get a clothing allowance?”

“No, you’re already getting free board and lodging, so that’s one expense you’ll have to bear yourself.”

“When do I get to meet the children?” as she said this I saw Stephanie wince, waking up Emily who having guzzled for the previous minute or two, burped loudly. Then she laughed at herself and was sick–all over Stephanie. She grabbed a clean nappy from her bag and wiped herself down.

“At least it doesn’t smell like formula milk does,” she said trying not to look embarrassed.

“The children are in school so it’ll be Monday evening before you can see them after I collect them.” She nodded at this, Stephanie was still watching her like a hawk.

About half-past one, Jacquie announced she would need to go to catch the bus. I nodded to Julie who agreed to take her into the bus station. I told them to make arrangements for collecting her clothes for Monday.

As soon as she was gone, Stephanie said, “Is that wise–employing her if she’s a convicted killer?”

“She’s not a killer, it was a miscarriage of justice.”

“They all say that, Cathy. Even the Kray twins were innocent in their eyes.”

“I can assure you, she is innocent.”

“She sold you a line did she–out in the kitchen.”

“No actually, we had a frank discussion. I told her I had killed several times and she thought I was joking. I managed to impress upon her that I was not. She was more frightened of me than I was of her. She relived her tragedy with the little boy who drowned–she was five years old, Steph, how can a five-year-old describe being paralysed with shock and then fascinated by watching the boy's struggles. He drowned before she was able to run for help.”

“So she says, I read the whole transcript of the trial and the expert witness statements. I think she pushed him and then let him die for some sort of perverse curiosity.”

“I saw it happen.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Cathy, you were still in Bristol in those days.”

“Out in the kitchen, I saw her relive the ordeal and the boy drowning. It was awful, but I saw it through her eyes. She didn’t kill him.”

“Cathy, she’s inveigled you to believe whatever she wants you to.”

“Stephanie, I’d have thought that you of all people would have some belief that people can and do change and that redemption does happen.”

“For someone who claims to be a Dawkins’ follower, you use a lot of religious language.”

“Would that make me a Dawkinsian?”

“No, try ambivalent.”

“I’m not ambivalent, I’m an agnostic.”

“So you keep telling me–though I’m not sure quite who you want to convince.”

“What d’you mean?” I spluttered.

“You keep talking about beliefs and redemption, you talk about souls and spirits, you let the children describe you as an angel. Hardly mainstream Dawkins is it?”

I blushed, did I give that impression or was she just trying to get back at me for suggesting she could be wrong about Jacquie? “Professor Dawkins is atheist, and uses religious language, so why can’t I?”

“Yes that bothers me about him, his militant atheism is as bad as the fundamentalists who’d burn you at the stake to save you.”

“I don’t think he’d do that, Stephanie, don’t think he’s into violence.”

“Except by his tongue.”

“I accept he does sometimes get a bit sharp but only because he has to deal with so many morons who have ideas of creationism and intelligent design down as scientific theories–yet with no evidence of either which stands any sort of examination. There are people who genuinely believe in Adam and Eve as real people instead of allegorical archetypes.” I defended the Oxford professor.

“You get the prize for gobbledygook,” offered Stella who was teasing me.

“Is it a cash one?” I asked.

“No it’s a dictionary full of unpronounceable twaddle.”

“Oh? Which dictionary is that then?” I’d never heard of it.

“The Dictionary of Unpronounceable Twaddle, what else.”

“I think you just made that up,” I said.

“I’ve got one upstairs,” she declared and went to get it.” I chatted to Stephanie while she was gone. She reappeared ten minutes later with a piece of card upon which she’d written in biro, A Dictionary of Unpronounceable Twaddle, which she had bent in half and shoved several sheets of toilet paper inside.

“It should help with all the crap you talk sometimes, Cathy.” Stella was always generous with her praise. Stephanie fell about laughing, quite literally, and I had to help her back to her chair–her fall had caused little Emily to bawl her head off, so even good babies have their moments. I tried to hide my smirk but judging by the dirty look I was getting, I didn’t do much of a job.

Stephanie took her leave and we waved her off. Stella asked me if I was sure that I was making the right decision in employing Jacquie. I told her that I was absolutely convinced I was. She wondered out loud if Stephanie was correct in seeing me as gullible and wanting to believe in redemption so badly. I pointed out that only sinners get redeemed, the innocent are proven guiltless eventually.

“Tell that to those who were hanged or otherwise sent to their ancestors despite protesting their innocence. You’re only innocent until the law decides otherwise.”

“Which is usually impartially,” I interrupted.

“Sometimes, it’s all getting more political–sometimes I despair we’ll never see a good hanging again.” This line was delivered absolutely deadpan. It was intended to wind me up because I was very anti-capital punishment. Instead, I agreed with her and she blew a raspberry at me–very mature.

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