The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike) Part 1667 by Angharad Copyright © 2012 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

Despite my worries of coping with the children during what I used to know as Holy Week, we actually had fun most days. I got them doing things about the house each day on the understanding that we’d do something enjoyable afterwards. So far we’d managed to keep the chores down and have some fun.

Today we went out mountain biking. Okay, Portsmouth is a bit devoid of mountains, but we did some off-roading on bridle paths and because everything was so dry, didn’t get either the bikes or ourselves too messy.

After everyone had been cleaned up, including Danny, who’d come with us as well, I declared myself too tired to cook. The kids had a piece of fruit and drink of milk to tide them over until Si came home and we’d have fish and chips. Yeah, I was feeling lazy.

Simon arrived at six and I asked him to get the fish and chips. He suggested that he’d take me and wait in the car while I got the food. Why couldn’t he just do it? However, it had been a pleasant if tiring day and I didn’t want to spoil it with a spat with Si. So I agreed.

I got into his car and he drove us the mile or so to the chip shop, which has a small car park at the side of it. He parked and sat in the car listening to his Abba CD while I wriggled out of the car and walked round to the entrance to the shop.

There are frequently kids hanging round outside, a real heterogeneous group, all shapes, sizes, colours and sexes. One of them nearly knocked me over as I walked between them.

“Hey, watch it; you nearly had me over then.” I said loudly to him.

“Shut it bitch, and hand over your purse.”

I was actually speechless. The kid, a large black youth, pushed me roughly against a wall, temporarily winding me. However, I hung onto my shoulder bag as he tried to rip it from me.

His friend now got into the act, an equally large white youth, with more spots than the average leopard and his hair looking like it had been cut with a lawn mower.

I got in one blow before the other one hit me, the white kid went down and rolled on the floor. Where was Simon when I wanted him? The black kid, shouted, “Oh you wanna play rough, d’ya?” and slapped me on the face. I saw stars but somehow managed to hold onto my bag as he once again pulled at it.

The white one came back, “I’m gonna hurt you for that, you bitch,” he spat at me. He raised his fist and I kicked out again, catching him on the knee. He limped around in circles squealing that he was going to kill me.

The black youth went to slap me again, my face was definitely bruising, my left eye was beginning to close and I could taste blood. He swung at me and I ducked, kicking him in the shin and following it up with a bash in the face with my bag. He stepped back, but the group of kids now chanting and waiting to see me really beaten up prevented me from escaping.

I screamed, it was all I could do. Both of my attackers stood before me, the white kid brandishing a knife. Oh well, no one lives forever. Whichever one came at me first would gain some more bruises before they got me.

I tensed myself for a fight to the death, it might well be so. Suddenly, the white kid was yanked backwards and I heard his jaw shatter and saw blood and teeth fly everywhere as Simon’s fist caught him with a haymaker. The second blow rearranged the rest of his face and he dropped like a stone, the knife lying beside him.

“You hit my wife, you bastard,” said Simon as he looked at the other attacker. I suspect he was going to say something but Simon, who had a look of pure hatred in his eyes, grabbed him by the throat and head butted him on the nose. He dropped to the ground a moaning bleeding mess.

It wasn’t quite over, and as the sirens sounded in the distance, out of the corner of my good eye, I saw a girl, presumably the friend of one of the hors de combat, pick up the knife and rush at Simon’s back.

I didn’t have time to say anything, I just swung my arm stiffly at neck height catching her in the throat. Her feet left the ground and she fell back against the wall, coughing and dropping the knife.

“That’s a red card offence, girl, a straight arm tackle,” Simon joked at me.

A police car swept alongside us and saw the carnage. He looked at my face and shook his head. “Muggers?” I nodded.

A second car arrived and they detained all the kids who tried to claim Simon and I had started it. “Keep talking, kids, I’ll have you as accomplices after the fact as well as attempting to pervert the course of justice,” growled a huge policeman.

An ambulance arrived and the two casualties were taken off, a third police car following to get their statements, and I hope, charge them.

Si and I were sat in different cars and our statements were taken. I told him when the knife appeared, I feared for my life and just screamed. Then Simon arrived and laid them both out. The copper smirked at that bit. It looked as if the two thugs were known to them.

I was glad to see the knife was carefully bagged as a piece of evidence and also glad that neither of us had touched it.

“You need to get some ice on that eye, my love,” said the copper, “Why don’t you pop over to the hospital just to make sure?”

“I just want to go home,” I said bursting into tears.

“Okay, someone will be along to see you tomorrow or the next day.”

“What for?”

“To see if any details have come to mind, they sometimes do, especially after an attack–and also to let you know what’s happening. Your husband, he can handle himself by the look of things.”

“I don’t know, I’ve never been in this situation before.”

“Okay, Mrs Cameron–Cameron, not from the old farmhouse?”

“Yes, why?” I sniffed realising they just worked out who we were.

“From what I’ve heard it’s usually you rescuing him, isn’t it?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Anyway, you’re in luck, the shop has computer controlled CCTV, so hopefully all of this will be on disc somewhere. All I have to do is make sure we get the right one.”

Simon hugged me, gently touching my swelling eyelid. “I’ll bet that hurts,” he said.

“Not as much as the two you hit.”

“Well, I was working up to getting slightly cross.”

“Huh, I’ll bet if they’d touched your car, you’d have been well miffed.”

“Probably. C’mon let’s get someone to look at that eye.”

“Please take me home, darling,” I pleaded and sobbed some more so that’s what we did.

I’m a lousy mother. I have no idea what my children had to eat that night, I’d lost any appetite I had and went to bed. I know Trish was with me at one point because the splitting headache I’d had eased and I went to sleep.

Stella had thought to take some photos of my face when we got home, so even if a rapid healing occurred, we’d have some evidence to present.