The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike) Part 1670 by Angharad Copyright © 2012 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

Back at home, Trish insisted on having a go with my bruising, and her ten minutes of ministration did seem to help–at least I could see a bit better from my left eye. I offered the girls the chance to watch the DVD of the Princess Bride and that gave me a chance to quickly change and slip over to the garage and half an hour’s workout with the punch bag.

When I finished I was dripping with sweat and exhausted, but I felt so much better, save for the headache I got by my left eye. I also determined that I wouldn’t be caught so unresponsive next time. Why I didn’t start fighting back, I don’t know. I was surprised by the assault and by the proximity of the group of teenagers; that seemed to intimidate me. Next time it would elbows knees and fists until I made enough room to deliver some high kicks.

Normally I’d be worried about kicking the wrong one or knocking someone into a bystander. In a situation like the other day, I wouldn’t worry about it again, I’d just start defending myself. As for the risk of prosecution for using excessive force, I’d deal with that if I survived the attack.

After showering I sent Si a text asking him to call Andy Bond. An hour later he sent me one back saying he had. He implied if they wanted to prosecute him, he’d do all in his power to cause them maximum embarrassment. That worries me, because we have lots to lose–there’s my situation, which could become news again, as could Julie and Trish. Then the jackpot would be none of these but the revelation of who Jacquie once was, which would create all sorts of problems for her and for us. I’d go for an injunction as soon as I knew someone was intending to publish, because a court gave her anonymity and to breach that is to be in contempt of court. Hopefully it won’t go that far and we’ll be able to resolve this to our satisfaction. If not, look out world.

There was a report in the local paper, saying that a young mother had been attacked by the gang and her husband had hospitalised three of them in rescuing her. It was inaccurate but I didn’t feel like informing them of their mistake.

I got dressed and saw the shower had reduced some of the swelling on my face though the colours were still purples and greens. I checked the bathroom cupboard and I found some foundation crá¨me , so I plastered that over my bruises. It seemed to help conceal them, especially when I dusted it with powder.

I looked at the two items of makeup–I couldn’t remember when I bought them, let alone used them, probably not since living on my own in that grotty little bedsit thing I rented before living with Si and Stella or Tom. It wasn’t as long as it felt, but it was only a combination of my natural laziness and Stella convincing me I didn’t need the makeup that improved my use of it. Julie does all sorts of exotic things with makeup, much better than I could, although she’s got beautiful skin and doesn’t need it. She won’t believe me though, she’s only my daughter.

On the extreme opposite sits Jacquie who uses no makeup at all. Once again she has lovely skin, and only uses moisturiser since I told her she should, and then to protect it against the sun when out in the summer, if we get any. It’s noticeably cooler and wetter since the bank holiday hove into sight.

I left the bedroom casually dressed and went to sort out lunch. The film buffs appeared very quickly once they discovered I was doing food. Jacquie appeared with Danny, who related that she’d been helping him with his English–he had an essay to write and she helped him do so. He’d never asked me, except to check his spelling and once or twice to check his science subjects–and then I got it wrong with his physics. It never was my best subjec,t because I didn’t enjoy the applied mathematics which is all it is. I was happy to measure things, but not light or electricity or to determine specific gravities or latent heats, no I was happy weighing animals and plants–real things, not abstracts. Seeing as we don’t really understand what electricity is, and better minds than mine have been flummoxed, why should I wear my little grey cells out when I could save them for the Guardian crossword or planning how I could corrupt young minds at university–actually making them think for themselves. To my mind that’s much more important than getting a degree.

I did a salad with hard boiled eggs and a choice of cold meats with some fresh made bread. They all grumbled but it was astonishing how quickly all the food, including the lettuce and rocket, disappeared.

“Your face looks better,” Jacquie said looking at me as we cleared the table after the locusts had left.

“Nah, I’ve just hidden it with some makeup.”

“Oh, I hardly ever use it,” she said shrugging and rinsing off the dishes before putting them in the dishwasher.

“Have you never used it?”

“Not really, I did when I was first released, thinking I could look different if I dyed my hair and painted my face, but I couldn’t really be bothered, and I didn’t really like how I looked.”

“I suppose it’s not for everyone–I used to enjoy trying to create different looks by using different colours and more of it. Creating a femme fatale look, or a sophisticated look. I wasn’t as good at it as Julie is.”

“I never got into it, in the same way I tried not to be bullied into making tattoos with a pin and felt pen, like so many of them did.”

“Ugh, properly done tattoos give me the willies on women, and I can’t say I like them on men either. So many young women have them now, it’s quite worrying. What are they going to feel like at seventy?”

“Mummy, none of us these days worry about living to seventy, we live for today.”

“Hmm, part of me thinks that’s not a bad idea, except what happens tomorrow?”

“You deal with it when it becomes today, but of course, tomorrow never actually arrives does it.”

“Yeah, a bit like the local mail service.”

She laughed at my analogy. “You are so funny, Mummy.”

Yeah, kiddo, you don’t know the half of it.

We finished the clean up when Stella returned with her two little ones. “I’m off to the baby clinic, anything you want while I’m out?”

“Yes please, milk–get a couple of four or six pintas, will you?”

“Okay, semi-skimmed?”

“Please.”

She went off in her car which reminded me of my trip in it earlier. I shuddered at the recollection.

“What’s the matter, Mummy?”

“Oh I was just thinking about Stella’s driving.”

“Is it bad, then?”

“Shall we say she gets women drivers a bad name. We first met after she hit me off my bike. I was lucky she didn’t kill me.”

“What she crashed into you?”

“Yeah, she hit me from behind and I luckily landed in a hedge which gave me loads of superficial scratches but broke my fall. She’s been promising to complete the job one day.”

“Charming–I hope she’s joking?”

“Yes of course she is, if she killed me she’d have to live on beans on toast forever more.”

“True–you are so funny.”

“When’s your next driving lesson?”

“Tomorrow.”

“And when’s your therapist seeing you again?”

“That’s tomorrow as well, in the morning and the driving lesson’s in the afternoon.”

“Okay, you can use my study for your therapist if you like.”

“If I want you to sit in, will you?”

“You’ve had what three lots already, what’s happening that you need me there?”

“Sometimes she wants me to remember things I’d rather not.”

“She’s supposed to know what she’s doing but if you don’t wish to recall them, tell her. She’s there for your benefit, not the other way round–she gets paid for her efforts.”

“She keeps on about reframing and closure.”

“Yeah, well remember, she’s supposed to support you, not the other way round.”

“So will you sit in with us?”

“I’ll have a think about it, but I doubt she’ll be very happy with the idea.”

“Thank you, Mummy.”

I went away feeling very unsure about any of it.