The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike) Part 1855 by Angharad Copyright © 2012 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

“Mummy, was that a real story?” asked Livvie as we made our way upstairs.

“No, darling, it was one I made up.”

“But it coulda been real.”

“I don’t think so, sweetheart.”

“But I mean, Trish has seen Billie, so it coulda been, couldn’t it?”

“I don’t really know if Trish has seen Billie; I know she thinks she has, but I can’t be certain one way or the other.”

“Have you seen her?”

“No, except in dreams and that could be simply my mind trying to deal with the tragedy of her death.”

“People in the Bible saw things in dreams, they say God made them see things.”

“We don’t quite understand dreams, they could be anything.”

“So it could be God talking to us?”

“It could if you believe in God.”

“You don’t do you, Mummy?”

“Not really, sweetheart. Belief is an act of faith, I don’t have faith in supernatural beings.”

“I don’t know if I do either, Mummy.”

I gave Livvie a hug and after checking on them, cleaning their teeth and changing into nighties, I tucked them all in to their beds and bid them goodnight.
“That was a good ghost story, Mummy,” said Julie, scary for different than usual reasons.

“Thank you, darling,” we hugged for a moment.

“What made you think that one up?” asked Phoebe.

“It just came to me after I was asked to tell a tale.”

“You didn’t plan it then?” she probed a bit further.

“No, I made it up as I went along.” Unless it was some unconscious thing, I considered but didn’t pursue the idea.

“It was good.”

“Thank you.”

“I wish I could just make up stories like that,” she sighed, “when I was in school and we had to write a story, I always had to get my mum to help me. Not very creative,” she sighed and I wasn’t sure if that was because she sad about her lack of creativity or thinking about her mother.

The girls went off to do each other’s hair and Sammi went with them after telling me, “I set a trap on Cortez’s computer stuff, see if it gives any suggestion that he’s still alive.”

“Don’t tell me all you’ve had so far is the Inland Revenue trying to decode them.”

“Not quite, but given his previous encryptions, he does have some idea but not very much. I’ve got a tracker on it so hopefully anyone who does try to access his accounts will lead us back to them unless they do it through hundred of computers all over the world.”

“Oh well, can’t say I understand all that, sweetheart, so I’ll wait for you to tell me if anything happens.”

“Okay, I’m going to let them play with my hair, see you in the morning.”

“Don’t let them do anything too outlandish, remember you’re working in a bank.”

“Oh gosh, Mummy, the other girls are way more over the top than I am, they’ve all got tats and piercings.”

I must have grimaced because she smiled and added, “Don’t worry, I don’t like them either.”

“I hope it stays that way, Sammi,” I gave her a hug and she pecked me on the cheek.

“Of course it will, thank you for letting me stay with you.”

“What brought that on?” I mean she’s been living with us for months.

“I just thought it might be a good idea to show I don’t take you or Daddy for granted or staying in this lovely old house.”

“Well, in which case, thank you, it is appreciated.” I hugged her again–she seemed to be the only one who had become aware of our efforts to keep them comfortable, and while we’re nowhere near poor, it’s nice to hear a little thank you.

The youngsters I’d expect to take everything for granted because they’re very much children, even if they have gigantic brains–they’re no guarantee of maturity, as Trish has demonstrated several times. But then at eight, one could suggest they have plenty of time to grow and mature.

Livvie seems to be growing faster than Trish who is fractionally older. Even Meems is catching her up and Danny has long left them all behind–he’s going to be quite tall–probably six feet tall by the time he stops growing. He certainly eats enough and it doesn’t turn to fat, so it must be doing something.

I’ll have to chat with Sam Rose, see if T-girls on hormones as young as Trish grow normally or do the hormones interfere with it. I thought it was usually girls becoming boys that had the problem, that testosterone spoiled the party and one of the reasons so many of them are vertically challenged. David’s not that tall but then neither am I.

I sat with Simon in the lounge, Tom had gone up to bed and Stella was watching the telly in her own rooms. “So what has James told you?” I asked him.

“Nothing much today, he’s still trying to find a friendly copper to help him get into the police records of the shoot-out and subsequent destruction of the poor guy’s face and then the cremation–Catholics just don’t do it.”

“I think we ought to get him back, it’s too dangerous.”

“He’s got a friend with him–one of his ex-special forces chums.”

“Well I hope they’re watching each other’s backs because it’s a pretty violent place by all accounts.”

“That’s Mexico with that drug cartel thingy, they’re killing each other by the bucket-load there.”

“Brazil is pretty violent too–lots of organised crime–corrupt police and authorities.”

“Don’t need to look far for that, just look at this business with Jimmy Savile.”

“Oh don’t, that gets sillier and sillier, if it wasn’t for the fact that bastards like him destroyed youngster’s lives with their predatory sex, it would be a farce. I just can’t believe he wasn’t stopped.”

“Power, babes, there’s a thing in the paper today about some bloke in North Wales who was sexually assaulted as a child by a paedophile ring and one of them was a high up Tory politician in Thatcher’s government.”

I nodded, “Nothing would surprise me in the darkness in some people’s hearts.”

“Yeah, it’s when they do good things it kind of gets you, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know I feel a bit cynical about that too, look how Savile used his money generating status to get power and freedoms within places that enabled him to abuse either children or vulnerable patients, like those in mental institutions or unconscious.”

“Sounds like something out of, ‘Kill Bill,” he replied, “Isn’t Uma Thurman supposedly abused by some ward orderly or male nurse while she’s in a coma.”

“Oh that film was ridiculously over the top–like Monty Python meets Bruce Lee.”

“Okay some of the action is OTT, but the abuse of supposedly deep coma patients might not be.”

“What a horrible thought,” I shuddered.

“Well you hear stories of people abusing corpses in undertaker’s places.”

“Oh that is gross, I’m going to bed.” I stood up and walked to the door, “You coming?”

“Yeah, might as well,” he followed me out and shut the door after switching off the light. A shadow shot past us and up the stairs.

“Bugger, the kitten’s got out of the kitchen,” I said and dreaded having to find her and take her downstairs, it’s like trying to grab a bar of soap if you can actually find her in the first place.

“She’s your cat,” he smiled and left me to it.