The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike) Part 1719 by Angharad Copyright © 2012 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

Trish found the pirated DVD and they all set off to watch me doing my balcony walk and so on. I stopped Si as he was about to follow. I made us some fresh tea and asked him to come to the study for a bit of privacy.

“Huston, we have a praaalm–is it?” he asked as I shut the door.

“Not really, least ways not like Apollo thirteen.”

“Apollo thirteen?”

“Yeah the one they nearly lost on re-entry–they made a film of it with Tom Hanks.”

“Ah–okay, so if we haven’t got to save the man in the moon, what’s the prob, wifey?”

“Firstly, is there any chance of a job for Sammi for a few months, with your bank?”

“I’ve no idea off the top of my head, possibly something like maternity cover?”

“That would be fine.”

“As long as you’re not wanting me to make them pregnant as well,” he joked and this time instead of getting all angsty about it, I let it wash past me.

“No, it would take too long.” I played it with a straight bat and it died a death.

“I’ll make some enquiries on Monday.”

“Thank you, it will be Sammi you employ.”

“Not a problem, believe it or not most banks are quite grown up about such things.”

“Yes I know, I just wanted to make sure it was understood.”

“Loud and clear.”

“Thank you. Now for the more difficult bit; Sammi saw Billie with me today. I spoke to Trish and she said that Billie comes to see me every now and again.”

“Trish sees her?”

“So she claims, that Sammi knew nothing about her except she died, makes it very confusing.”

“Could one of the others have told her something without being aware of it?

“Unwitting disclosure, they call it,” I told him.

“Whatever, or is it genuine?”

“I don’t know. Why can’t I see her?”

“How do I know, I have trouble seeing the ones who’ve still got bodies.”

“Until they pass about fifteen, then you see their bodies alright.” I said coldly and he blushed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be nasty.”

“Apology accepted, and I’m a normal male who window shops–I’m not going to buy anything–I promise.”

“I know, because your wife would kill you.”

“She tell you that?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said emphatically.”

“So how come you can’t see her, Billie, or do they imagine they do?”

“Trish said it’s because I’m too closed down, my filters are such that I don’t see or feel her.”

“I have no idea, babes, I haven’t seen her either. Mine must be the same.”

“But you’ve seen the blue light, haven’t you?”

“Yeah, several times.”

“I didn’t for ages.”

“Haven’t seen it for some time, can you still do it–you know the healing stuff.”

“I don’t know–I feel like Superman when he gave up his powers–then wanted them immediately afterwards.”

“You can’t fly as well, can you?” Only the twinkle in his eyes stopped me from thumping him.

“Be serious, Simon, this is one of our children we’re talking about. Si...”I glanced at him and he was almost white and staring at a spot next to me. I felt a cold shiver traverse my spine. “Si–Simon,” I added loudly and he jumped back to normal.

“Sorry, babes.”

“You saw her, didn’t you?”

He shrugged, his colour returning, “I saw something, could have been Billie.”

“This so unfair, I’m the one who most wants to see her or speak to her and I’m the only one who can’t–even the sodding dog can probably see her–but not me.” I was sniffing back the tears and he put his arms round me.

“Cathy, maybe you’re trying too hard.” He held me for a few minutes.

“Did she look okay?”

“I didn’t see enough to know if it was Billie.”

“Who else could it be?”

“How do I know, talk to your vicar lady, it’s more her territory than mine.”

“I might over the weekend. Should we do something patriotic–it is the Queen’s diamond jubilee.”

“Is that since they reformed with Paul Jones?”

“What?”

“Well Freddie died, didn’t he?”

“Freddie who died?”

“Mercury, Freddie Mercury.”

“What the hell has Freddie Mercury got to do with Elizabeth R’s diamond jubilee?”

“You said, Queen–we are the champions, no time for losers cos we are the champions–dum dum–of the world.”

His singing was worse than his jokes.

“So are we doing anything red, white and blue or what?”

“You went to a garden party, what more d’you want? Wear your Union Flag knickers if you feel that strongly about it?”

“I mean should we be organising a street party for the poor of the neighbourhood?”

“Poor of this neighbourhood? They’re all stockbrokers or doctors–there are no poor here. As for a street party, our street is the main road, so where would hold the party, on the bike path?”

“No way, bike paths are sacred space.”

“Okay, next time I see a car parked on one I’ll tell him he’s committing sacrilege.”

“Tell him he’s committing a mortal sin and he’s going straight to hell.”

“I thought that was reserved for really wicked types–you know, those who don’t contribute huge amounts to the church and so on.”

“Nah, that’s how they used to get out of it–now real blasphemy is to bear false witness against the holy trinity.”

“Who are?” he asked looking askance at me.

“UCI, BC and CTC.”

“Who?”

I tutted, “Union Cycliste Internationale, British Cycling and the Cyclist’s Touring Club, who else?”

He shook his head, “Sometimes I wonder about you, wifey, other times I know you are completely barking.”

“Well I’m a member of two of them, didn’t you notice the sticker in the back of my car.”

“You’re not putting stickers in your car–God, how common,” he tutted back at me.

“Yeah, a BC sticker–only it’s so small no one can see it unless they’ve crashed into the back of the car.”

“Pedestrians will see it, surely?”

“I doubt it, seeing as they walk into the bloody thing half the time.”

“The ones with white sticks and Labradors?”

“Mummy?” called a voice from outside the door.

“Yes, sweetheart?”

The door opened and Livvie popped her head in, “May we have a drink and a biscuit?”

“Of course, ask Julie or Jacquie to get it for you.”

“I can do it, Mummy.”

“Okay, there’s some chocolate Hobnobs in the biscuit tin–don’t eat them all.”

“Would we do a thing like that, Mummy?” she smiled innocently and I just frowned at her which made her giggle as she ran off.

“How come I don’t get bloody Hobnobs?”

“You get to hob-nob with me instead,” I batted my eyelids at him.

“Less fattening, too,” he smiled, “so when do we–um–hob my knob then?”

Me and my big mouth...