The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike) Part 1702 by Angharad Copyright © 2012 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

Quite why I swallowed down the wine was a mystery, which deepened as I did the same with a second glass. “You need to be careful with that stuff, Cathy,” cautioned Esmond Herbert.

“You weren’t just told you were sexy by an heir to the throne,” I said feeling a little unsteady. I hadn’t eaten anything since we left Hampstead and on a full tummy I don’t have much tolerance of alcohol.

I grabbed a soft drink and that followed the wine, hoping to dilute it before any more got into my system. Now I needed a wee. I excused myself from Esmond and asked one of the waiters where the loos were–he pointed and I headed in that general direction unaware that Simon was now looking for me after smoothing the ruffled feathers of his vacuous friend and partner.

I had to walk briskly which I knew would encourage the absorption of the alcohol. I grabbed another soft drink and downed it, then dashed into the ladies. Amazingly, there was no queue and I was able to enter a cubicle as one was vacated. I just made it before the deluge came and I sat and peed for a minute or two. Then after washing my paws and checking my hair and makeup, I headed out to see if I could find some food.

I was fortunate that they laid some sort of pathway in plastic so my heels weren’t sticking in the soft grass beneath, and while there might have been several people I knew at the event, my focus was on feeding the inner woman–so I was following my nose towards what smelt like food.

I queued for maybe five minutes, my tummy rumbling with hunger, then I managed to get a couple of sandwiches, a stick of celery and a slice of quiche. Hardly a feast, beggars can’t be choosers. I noticed a slice of cake, so I snatched that too. With another soft drink, I stood and ate my rations having just finished when Simon arrived.

“Where the hell have you been?” he hissed.

“Talking dormice with Prince William, why?”

“We were down to be presented to their royal highnesses together–but oh no, you had to stomp off because someone mentioned the youtube clip.”

“Yeah, he mentioned it too, so I had to kill him.”

“You what?” his voice went up an octave.

“Yeah, I’m gonna runaway with Kate and set up a lesbian community in deepest Cambridge,” I said loudly.

He blushed to the tips of his ears and tried to hush me.

“He said I was sexy.”

“Shush,” Simon hissed at me.

“Why? I’m sexy by royal appointment.”

He practically dragged me out of the marquee and into a quiet corner, the fresh air suddenly caught me and I felt quite funny. Thankfully, he helped me swoon into a chair, so we didn’t attract any unnecessary attention.

“Are you alright, Cathy?”

“Yeah, jusht a bit tired.”

“Have you been drinking?”

“Who me?” I said in screech, “I never drink in the day,” then I hiccupped. “Oopsh,” I laughed.

“Stay here,” he ordered and went to rush off.

“Yesh, shir, cap’n,” I saluted him and nearly fell off the chair.

I sat with my eyes closed until a few minutes later he returned with a tray of black coffees. “Drink,” he exhorted so I did. Three cups later, I had to go to the toilet again and this time I was sick, fortunately not on my clothing, because the coffee would have ruined it. I sobered up quite quickly after that and after a drink of tea and finger roll, I felt much better.

The Duke and Duchess of Cambridge had apparently departed so Simon never did get to speak with them, he scowled all the way back to his parent’s house, I felt guilty but not enough to say so; after all, he had deceived me in the beginning.

When I thought about it, I was extremely gullible in the beginning–I mean–if there are likely to be royals about, their schedule would be known for months in advance to the powers that be, so the guest list would also be known and the names on it vetted. I mean, a suicide bomber at such an event would be a disaster. I still felt cross about his conning me and how calm I’d been considering how angry I’d felt initially. Had the garden party achieved anything? I shook hands with the most popular couple in the Western World, it’s probably several points higher up the scale than Brangelina or the Beckhams. Those were names to conjure with, interestingly, it seems in one, the Becks, he has all the tattoos, in the other, she does. Yuck, what does a beautiful woman like that need to get tattoos for?

Back at Castle Cameron, Hampstead, I took a long shower and changed back into my jeans and sweatshirt and tied my hair back in a ponytail, with no makeup on I felt more like the real me.

“Oh,” said Si, still in his suit, “I was going to suggest we had a nice meal somewhere and went home.”

“Why don’t we go home and eat there?”

“Because I’d like to say thank you and pay for my mistake earlier.”

“You think a measly fish and chips on the way home is going to make up for that? No way, buster. You said I could have anything.”

He looked irritated but he stayed calm and thus avoided a full on banshee attack. “Okay, what d’you want?”

“A dress like Kate was wearing, oh and the hat and shoes too.”

“I didn’t see what she was wearing, did I? I was too busy trying to find my drunken wife.”

“I wisnae drunk, jes’ a wee bitty ill.”

“You were tight as a tick,” he beamed having just recalled the expression from his early childhood, or so it seemed.

“Nah, I wisnae, I wis jes’ a wee bitty tired, I wis fair wabbit.”

“Why are you talking like Tom?”

“I’m his dochter, ye ken.”

“Aye, I dae ken, an’ I ken ye’re a Scot tae, but ye hail frae Bristol.”

“Yeah, so?”

“You’re taking the piss, aren’t you?”

“Moi? Collecting the urine? Nah, what gave you that idea?”

He glowered at me, “Bitch,” he mimed.

“I notice you didn’t accuse me of being as drunk as a lord.”

“Geez, Cathy, for that you’d have had to have consumed enough alcohol to be lighter than water.”

“Oh well, there’s always next year.”

“You have to be joking–they won’t invite you again.”

“If I finish the harvest mouse film, they will.”

He put his head in his hands and groaned.