Easy As Falling Off A Bike pt 1767

The Daily Dormouse.
(aka Bike)
Part 1767
by Angharad

Copyright © 2012 Angharad
All Rights Reserved.
  
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My Blackberry vibrated and peeped in my hand and in my surprise I nearly dropped it in the harbour, Simon grabbing it before it fell. He answered the call.

“I’ll put her on.”

“Hello?”

“Hello, Cathy, we’ve searched this boat from top to bottom and still no sign of her.”

“She’s there, I know it. She’s lying at the foot of a ladder near the bilges, possibly just above them.”

I heard him talking to someone. “The captain says that’s impossible, no child could get in there, it’s all locked up.”

“Well that’s where she is.”

“The captain says no.”

“Tell him to go and look and if I’m wrong I’ll buy him dinner, if I’m right, he’d better prepare a big apology–because I might just sue his arse right off his body.”

“Okay we’ll go and look, he says he knows which restaurant he wants to eat in.”

We spent another twenty minutes of purgatory while we presumed Henry and the captain searched the area above the bilges. It was dark before my Blackberry rang again.

“Meet us at the hospital, she’s alive but barely, with a nasty gash on her head. God knows how she got there, that area is off limits to anyone but crew. He’s really upset about it.”

“He’s gonna be even more upset when his wife dies.”

“What?”

“She’s going to die on the operating table.”

“Cathy, how d’you know?”

“I just saw it happen.”

“Can you save her?”

“Why should I?”

“Because you can.”

“I’m not as noble as you Henry, if my little girl dies, so does his wife.”

“Cathy, If you can save her, do so–the question shouldn’t even arise.”

“I haven’t taken any Hippocratic oath, I’m a dormouse counter, remember?”

“Cathy, for God’s sake don’t be like that–you have a gift, use it.”

I switched off the phone and asked to be driven to the hospital. We were there in ten minutes, Stella speaks quite good Catalan, which I hadn’t realised before–apparently she used to stay here all summer holidays most years–and let’s face it, there isn’t much call for it in Portsmouth.

While we waited for the helicopter to arrive, I asked her to enquire about the captain’s wife and somehow she blagged her way into getting us into her private room. Then a few moments later, Stella introduced me as the person who ‘saw’ the misplaced conception. She seemed pleased to meet me and we shook hands vigorously.

She felt the jolt of energy pass between us and she gave a groan and passed out. I sped round the bed and began to pour energy into her, especially into her lower abdomen. She came round and was sweating like she’d been in a sauna.

She cried and a nurse came in to see what was happening, we made our escape.

“What did you do, remove the embryo?” asked Stella as we walked back outside the hospital.

“Yeah.”

“I saw the light like it was a laser pulsing into her.”

“Yeah, I asked it to remove the embryo and plant it into the uterus wall.”

“You’ve made her pregnant?”

“Don’t be silly, her husband did that, all I did was facilitate it.”

“You wouldn’t have let her die, would you?”

“I don’t know, if Trish does, I’ll widow her.”

We heard the approach of the helicopter and went inside as the beast landed on the helipad on the roof, then we waited as Trish was rushed into the emergency room. I heard Henry insisting I be allowed to see her. The doctors were protesting but he was laying down the law.

Finally, I took it upon myself to enter the emergency room and my little lamb was resting on the couch, her eyes closed and her face pale and bruised. I approached the child and despite the protests of the doctors I picked her up and held her to me.

The back of her head was covered in dry and not so dry blood and her hair was all matted. I held her and spoke to her while I felt an intense heat issuing from my heart into her body. The doctor stepped back and crossed himself, so he must have seen something.

I smelt the stench of burning flesh like something was being elecro-cauterised and at one point thought I saw smoke arise from her head. I felt the wound shrinking and then the energy changed and I knew it was getting inside her, checking her head for injuries inside the skull. The colour had changed from blue to white to a sort of rainbow pulsing light, like a strobe.

The doctor stood in amazement along with his colleagues all of them fixated by the flashing light. I spoke to each one of them, telling them they’d remember none of this as soon as the light stopped. Then noticed Henry was also entranced by the light. I told him to wake up and get us out.

He did before he knew what we were doing. We went to Stella’s car and she drove us to the villa. Actually, she drove rather well, so maybe she needs to drive on the opposite side of the road.

Trish woke up an hour later–she had a headache and wasn’t impressed by the mess her hair was in. I washed it gently for her. There was a thin red weal where the injury had happened, and my instincts assured me she was back to full health.

It was quite late when we got into our makeshift bed. “When you bargained for Trish’s life, what was it you had to agree to do?” asked Simon as we snuggled down together.

“I’ve done it.”

“Done what?”

“What she told me I had to do.”

“Stop going round in circles and please tell this extremely tired mere male, what that was–in simple terms if you could.”

“She told me she would allow me to save my own child but before that, I had to save a mother and her child.”

“When did you do that?”

“In the hospital.”

“Oh,” he looked bemused or make that bewildered.

“The captain’s wife had misconceived.”

“Yeah, I got that bit.”

“I moved the baby from the fallopian tube into the wall of the uterus where it should have been.”

He looked bemused again then he worked through the stages and smiled. “How the hell did you do that?”

“With difficulty, but I began to see how the Holy Ghost managed it with Mary.”

“But you don’t believe in all that, do you?”

“No, because Jesus could only have been a girl unless God had XY chromosomes.”

“I thought he was supposed to be omnipotent.”

“Impotent is more likely.”

“They’ll hang you from the yardarm for that here, it’s a Catholic country.”

“We’re going home by the private jet tomorrow, with Trish. They’re going to be looking for the mystery healer–whom they’ll either see as a miracle worker or a witch. Whichever they opt for, life would be very difficult, so we need to get off home tomorrow.”

“But they’ll know it was Dad.”

“No, they won’t, they’ve all suffered some degree of amnesia, including the helicopter crew and the captain.”

“And his wife?”

“I’ll let her think she saw her saviour in a dream.”

“But she’ll be telling everyone–they’ll set up a shrine because someone saw Jesus’ face in a packet of crisps–so what’ll they do with this?”

“That’s up to her, I think she might just keep her own counsel for the sake of her little girl.”

“How come they’re always girls when you’re involved?”

“Nothing to do with me, guv–blame it on the ol’ blue light–it’s female, remember?”

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