The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike) Part 1648 by Angharad Copyright © 2012 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

I returned to the kitchen where Simon was sitting looking rather fed up and an empty wine bottle sat alongside his empty glass. “I waited to see if you wanted some wine, but you took so long I drank it for you. Was good, too.”

“You’re too kind,” I said but my sarcasm was wasted on his less than sober self. I picked up the bottle and the glass and removed them from the table, I placed the bottle in the recycling box and the glass on the draining board. Next I made myself some tea and asked Simon if he wanted some more–he laughed and said he didn’t.

“You’ve got a lovely bum, missus.” He laughed again.

“Glad you like it, because it’s the only one I shall have.”

“It’s very nice and I’d like to kiss it all over,” he laughed and nearly fell off his chair.

“I think you ought to drink some water, mister.”

“Nah, ’s bad for you, unless iss got fermented grapes in it–ha, ha.” He was fast approaching inebriation, though I suspect he’d not understand the word the rate he was approaching it. He rose unsteadily from the table and went to the loo–I heard him sometimes hitting the centre of the pan and other times missing it, he called “oops,” every so often and laughed some more. Finally, he staggered back out of the cloakroom and into the dining room where he fell asleep on the couch.

I went in the loo and wiped where he’d splashed with a soapy cloth and then rinsed it. It wasn’t as bad as it might have been, and after washing my hands I went to drink my tea. Then it was chasing the kids to bed time, which meant I’d be reading them a story as well. I waited while they changed and cleaned their teeth, and they got into bed. I sat looking at the photo of Billie and felt sad, then as they trooped into bed, I concentrated on reading to them–another Gaby story. Trish seems to dominate what they have read to them–this time the hapless youth seems to have migrated to Germany where they all think he’s a girl.

Eventually they settled down and I kissed them and switched off the light. I checked on Jacquie, who was fast asleep. I hadn’t failed to notice she called me Mummy during her distress nor had I attempted to refute the title because at the that moment she needed a parental figure to ease her pain. That was my role, or so it seemed. One day I’ll learn that I don’t have to sort everyone’s problems, but for now, anyone in distress seems to trigger a helping response in me, which I presume is the same for most people, seeing as whales and dolphins do it as well. It could be a common behaviour amongst social animals. Somehow, I can’t see dormice having the wherewithal to do it, although the mothers lick their babies at times, so perhaps they have different ways of soothing each other’s pain. Nah, they just bugger off and ignore it–sometimes I wonder if that’s a better response, it certainly leads to less effort and complications. Then they have up to four babies at least once a year, so they don’t have time to give their offspring like we do. Mind you ours take a bit longer to mature–like twenty years.

Of course, being more sophisticated than lowly rodents, we have more problems and they tend to be more sophisticated too. I sat drinking another cup of tea while I mused on Jacquie’s situation. We’d won insofar as we’d almost certainly won the right to appeal against her conviction. That would of course excite press interest which would put her under pressure. I had a feeling she’d either be holed up in the house for some time or somewhere else. Wherever it was, she’d need lots of support. Although I suspect she’d be delighted to have the conviction quashed, it’s going to stir up all sorts of unfinished business and hence her need for support.

How we supply that support, I don’t know. I won’t be home every day after Easter because the university summer term begins. Okay, much of it will be exams and revision, I’ll still be quite busy and I’ll have to get Stella to help me. I wonder if Stephanie would be interested in coming over now and again–not to analyse but just to keep an eye on Jacquie in case she needs support.

I knew once I got back to teaching, my classes were going to be huge, unless the delays have weakened their enthusiasm. Last time I spoke to Daddy about it he didn’t seem to think so. How can I possibly deserve celebrity status? There are much more dedicated teachers there than I, but I’m the one who’s been on telly. Thankfully, the radio shows failed to materialise, so at least that wasn’t an additional problem.

I checked on Simon. He was deado, so I covered him with a blanket and left him sleeping on the couch. Julie came in as I was about to go to sleep. “What’s with Dad?”

“Oh he had a small run in with Stella after being a trifle insensitive with Jacquie. He got drunk and is sleeping it off. I’m going to bed. Night, darling.” She pecked me on the cheek and followed me up the stairs. I checked Jacquie, who was still asleep, then went to my own bed.

I felt so sorry for the kid–she’d been condemned by a system which dispenses law, but not necessarily justice, and no one seemed to ask why or how it could happen. That it still seems to is iniquitous, but according to the internet there are campaigns still active about ongoing cases, where protesters have themselves been sent to prison for contempt of court. I suspect that while the majority of judges probably do a very difficult job well, there are one or two who don’t and during a career that could ruin a lot of lives.

There was very little I could do to rectify things. I had no desire to be part of the legal system, and I suspect it would prevent me if I tried–to become a magistrate or prison visitor. I know of cases where transsexual women had lived in a female rá´le for decades, even having full legal status, but they hadn’t even been called for jury service let alone to do anything more. So I suspect the system has ways of keeping out ‘outsiders’, or those of us who are different. They tolerate rather than accept us providing we don’t get too demanding–then they tend to stamp on us quietly, with no witnesses. As I tend not to do things quietly, perhaps they leave me alone.

As for jury service–I have no desire to sit in judgment of my fellows–even though I know someone has to do it–I’m happy it’s someone else. I don’t balk on paying my taxes, so that’s my contribution–yeah, I know so do others, but it takes a few hospital porters or cleaners to equal my tax bill–and I don’t get anything more out of the system than they do, which is okay with me.

Sleep finally came because I woke up to find Trish poking me. “Where’s Daddy?”

“Uh–what? What time is it? Downstairs I think, why?”

“Have you been fighting again?”

“No, why?”

“Just wondered.”

“You coming in for a cwtch?” I asked her.

She duly clambered under the covers with me and we cuddled tightly together.

“Where’s Jacquie?” she asked.

“In her bed, why?”

“No she’s not, I just checked.”

“She’s not just in the bathroom?”

“No, I checked.”

“Oh bugger,” I said to myself and jumped out f the bed and started pulling on some clothes. I dashed downstairs only to bump into Daddy who was making his treacle like coffee.

“Have you seen Jacquie?” I asked him.

“Aye, she’s oot wi’ ma dug, why?”

“Oh, okay–no reason–I’m just concerned for her.”

“Aye, Simon went wi’ ’er.”

Now that did suprise me.