The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike) Part 1730 by Angharad Copyright © 2012 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

I mentioned to Tom about the kitten, he smiled then pointed at the road.

“If we keep the gate shut, that might help,” I offered then remembered either he or Simon would likely drive into the closed gates. “Besides, there’s loads of places for her to explore and hunt around the house and it’s grounds.

“Aye, but I’m jes’ tellin’ ye, thae last ain, got killt on yon road.”

“What about Kiki?”

“Och she’ll be a’richt, she disnae chase cats.”

“So I can tell the girls they can have the kitten when she’s old enough?”

“Aye.”

“Thank you, Daddy.” I pecked him on the cheek and I do believe he blushed.

“I thocht ye wanted tae talk aboot Stella.”

“Not much point is there–I opened my big gob, she overheard and the rest is history.”

“Ye were within yer richts to say somethin’, it wis more thae way it happened.”

“I know, I regret it, but there’s nothing I can do now–she’s made her bed–she has to lie in it.”

“Aye, she does, but wit aboot thae bairns, why should they suffer because their mither is tae prood tae see her faults.”

I shrugged, I didn’t want or need this discussion. “I agree entirely, Daddy, but I have to dash–things to do. I had a meal to make. In the end I did spag bol, because it’s quick and they all like it.

Simon ate his share and half of mine–I wasn’t really very hungry–still upset by the departure of Stella and the children. I sent ours on up to bed and Tom read to them. I was clearing up in the kitchen while Simon drank a glass of wine.

“What d’you think about this gay marriage business? Looks like the government are going to make it happen despite the church’s objection.”

“Good, it’s about the only good thing our namesake will have done.”

“I’d have thought you’d be more pleased that he’s ignoring the church.”

“Who in their right mind listens to the church anyway?” I was reaching for my soapbox.

“They’re saying it could cause them to become disestablished.”

“So what? They’re just a pain in the arse, not as much as the Church of Rome, but what right do people who believe in sky gods got to tell anyone how to run their lives and what they can or cannot do? If they professed a belief in fairies they’d all be locked up.”

“They are in the House of Lords. A belief in fairies and criticising gay marriage sounds ironic,” he chuckled to himself.

“According to them, marriage is for the procreation of children–so how come we did it, or thousands of couples who don’t want or can’t have children? Their arguments are so feeble it makes me want to abolish the whole bloody lot on the grounds that they can’t even shit stir properly.”

“Hang on now, Tom believes.”

“He’s entitled to, the fact that it’s the equivalent of the moon is green cheese, even though the Yanks brought back samples to prove it’s actually Gorgonzola, doesn’t make it right.”

“Didn’t he write Lolita?” smirked Simon.

“What?”

“Gorgon Zola, wrote Lolita?”

“How very droll, Simon, trust you to drag everything down to your schoolboy level.”

“Well I thought it was funny.”

“That goes without saying.”

“I’ve read it too.”

“Gorgonzola?”

“No, Lolita.”

“I’ve played her.” I said quietly and then turned to walk away.

“What? Hey, come back, you can’t leave after a line like that.”

I turned and blushed, “I don’t really want to talk about it.”

“Please, that is so intriguing. Please tell me.”

I shuddered when I recalled the exploit–it was bordering on insanity. I seated myself at the table, “Any of that wine left?”

He jumped up and poured me a glass and recharged his own. I took a sip, swallowed it and took another. “I’d forgotten all about it.”

“You keep doing this, remembering all these exploits.”

“Once they’re over, they’re over; I don’t dwell on them.”

“Come on, spill the beans, missus.”

“Okay,” I took another sip and deep breath. “I can’t remember if it was my idea or Siá¢n’s, but there was some weirdo hanging round the school–the girl’s school mainly.”

It began to come back and the combination of excitement and fear, I must have been mad–we both must have been stark raving bonkers.

“And?” Simon brought me back from my reverie.

“We both hung around in her school uniforms, with lots of makeup on, we must have look like those tarts who pretend to be schoolgirls.”

“What happened?”

“Her headmistress caught us, Siá¢n got grounded by her dad, I got a hiding from mine plus I had to go the next morning to the headmistress of the girl’s school and apologise for wearing a uniform to which I had no entitlement.”

“How old were you?”

“Thirteen or fourteen.”

“Jeez, that must have been so humiliating.”

“It was but what happened next was worse.”

“Worse?” he gasped.

“Yeah, the headmistress invited me to attend the girl’s school for a week because I seemed so at home in the uniform.”

“Bloody hell, what happened.”

“Well, I was actually wearing the uniform when I was taken to see her, and they compromised, she called our headmaster and he agreed I should spend the rest of the day at the girl’s school. Of course within minutes the rumour went round the place that there was a boy wearing girl’s uniform attending.”

“What happened?”

“Nothing much, I went and hid in the library and eventually did some homework there. However, two other girls got dragged into the toilets and stripped off because they were accused of being me.”

“Wow, how horrible for them, but they thought you were real?”

“Dunno about that, possibly by not circulating much, I gave little opportunity for them to attack me. The next day my dad made me wear the girl’s uniform to my school; that was wretched. I felt suicidal after that.”

“I’m not surprised–they were real sadists at your school, weren’t they?”

“Murray was, and I think he encouraged that sort of homophobia in my dad.”

“Except you weren’t gay, you were a girl.”

“It’s easier to say now than it was then. I’ve got a photo somewhere, my dad took one to remind me of my aberrant behaviour.”

“Where is it?” he asked. I rose and went to the study and poked about in a drawer unaware he followed me. It made me jump for a moment. Eventually my rummaging produced an old photo album and I selected the right page. I handed it to him.

He stared at it for a moment, “This could be Trish, you know in a few years time.”

“Don’t be silly, we’re not related,” I pooh-poohed his suggestion.

“To start with, I can’t see a boy here, just a pretty girl, who looks younger than thirteen–yeah, there is a similarity to Trish–look for yourself.”

I hadn’t looked at it for ages, and then I rarely actually examined the photo, I knew who and what it was, so when I looked, it bore an uncanny resemblance to Trish. Pure coincidence of course–of course it was; least that’s what I told myself.

Simon held onto the album and leafed through it. “You did have a girlhood, if all of these are you?”

“Most of them are, Siá¢n appears in some of them.”

“You were quite pretty even then.”

I felt myself blushing, I was supposed to be a boy for Chrissakes.”

The phone rang and I accepted the opportunity to escape from this nightmare trip down memory lane.

“What happened to the pervert you were trying to catch?” he asked as I reached for the phone.

“Oh they caught him over near another school.”

He laughed as I answered the phone.

“Hello?”

“Cathy?”

“Yes, hello, Gareth.”

“Cathy, you’ve got to get over here and quickly–I can’t wake Stella up–I think she might be dead.”

I felt like a train had hit me and it took me a moment to respond. “Get an ambulance, I’m on my way.”

“Ambulance–what’s up, not one of their kids?”

“No, Stella.”

“Oh shit.”