The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike) Part 1862 by Angharad Copyright © 2012 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

I was still contemplating how to tell Mr Minton from Macclesfield he was a total idiot when I found another email from him telling me an otter had taken one of his Koi carp and it was quite valuable–the otter is dunno about his stupid fish.

I had just told him that he’d need to talk to his local wildlife trust instead of bothering me when Phoebe returned. It was all I needed.

“Cathy?” she said in a very little girl voice.

“Yes, Phoebe,” I said matter of fact.

“Are you busy a minute?” She was biting her bottom lip and playing with her fingers.

“No, come in.” I stood and closed the door after her.

She stood facing me, then looked at the carpet again. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry? For what?”

“I lied to you.” I could see tears running down her face.

“About what?”

“I did bunk off college.”

“I see.”

“I won’t do it again.”

“Phoebe, that’s for you to decide. I told you that before, it’s only yourself you’re cheating. You’re responsible for yourself now.”

“I miss my mum,” she said and burst into tears.

What could I do but hug her and let her cry on my shoulder while cooing to her and rubbing her back.

“I feel such a fool,” she said.

“That’s one thing you’re not, my girl; now, c’mon dry those eyes and let me see you smile.” I handed her a couple of tissues from the box on my desk.

“I really miss my mum,” she said again and pressed the tissues to her eyes.

“I know, sweetheart, it must be awful for you. I still miss mine and she’s been gone a few years now.”

“Can you be my mum, Cathy?” she sort of stuttered in between sobbing and that funny staggered intake of breath people make when they’ve been crying.

“Oh goodness, Phoebe, I don’t know if I can.”

“I’m sorry I asked,” she went to turn away and I stopped her.

“Phoebe, it’s not easy deputising for someone as special as your mum, and I’m not sure I could fill her shoes if I tried for a hundred years.”

“’Kay,” she said and turned to leave with a face writ large with disappointment. It must have taken her a lot of courage to come and ask me.

“So, given that you’ve asked me an impossible question, I’m going to be as foolish as you said you’d felt–I’m going to say, I’ll be your mum as long as you need me to be, but I doubt I’ll do anything like as good a job as the original–that is if you still want me to be.”

She nodded, her eyes full of tears and she hugged me and whispered a thank you in between huge sobs. I held her for ages and know the odd drop of saline dripped down my face as well.

“D’you mind if I don’t call you, Mum, only that’s a special name?” she said very quietly.

“You can call me whatever you wish as long as you remember to call me when you need me,” I responded my own eyes moist with tears.

“I will, Mm–um Cathy, I’d better go.”

“Phoebes?” I said as she went to leave.

“Yes?” she turned back to me.

“Get David to give you a couple of slices of cucumber to place on your eyes for a few minutes, it’ll help with the puffiness.”

“Thanks, shall I get some for you as well?”

“Yeah, why not?”

She returned just as I pressed ‘send’ and told Mr Minton from Macclesfield where to go. “Can I sit in here for a few minutes, it’s so peaceful.”

That I’d just been sending psychic hate mail to that prat in Macclesfield almost made me want to laugh out loud, but I didn’t. “C’mon let’s sit on the sofa,” which is what we did, lying back in the comfortable seats with slices of cucumber on our eyelids and for the first time that evening I relaxed and was almost dropping off to sleep when Phoebe’s voice said: “Mu–I mean Cathy?”

“Um–yes, sweetheart.”

I felt her edge closer to me and her head rested on my shoulder so I put my arm round her.

“That feels so nice,” she yawned and I think fell asleep. Conscious of her cuddled into me and my arm round her–which wasn’t very comfortable, how does Simon do it–I sat there and tried to relax again but the moment had gone and in the cold light of day, I wondered what I’d committed to now? Another child to keep on the straight and narrow–well that sounded easy enough although we’d already had a run in.

But what would the future hold? Would I be able to help her deal with periods and possible pregnancy when I’d never had them myself? I know Stella was there and she had nursing experience and knowledge, so we’d probably manage somehow. After all, if she asked me about hairdressing, which I’ve also not had any experience of, except as a punter, I’d be bound to try and answer it on the proviso she’d probably be better asking someone else with knowledge.

I sat there my mind dreaming, I’d never set out to be anyone’s mother and now by a process of default I had a whole houseful of children who called me their mother, and it made me feel so proud–of them. No matter how often I’d told them it didn’t seem appropriate, they ignored me and carried on fulfilling their need and perhaps some of mine as well.

Phoebe snuggled into me and murmured to herself before sighing deeply and then going back to sleep. I pulled the cucumber off my eyes and looked at the clock. We’d been here half an hour and my arm was numb from the shoulder and I had some pins and needles in my hand, yet I didn’t want to disturb her. This was the first time she’d come to me with an identifiable need and I was going to do my damnedest to meet it.

After dinner, I had a hot shower and restored some movement in my arm, it was still sore but better than it had been. I dried my hair and pulled on a nightdress and my dressing gown. I wasn’t going anywhere so there was little point in dressing again.

“You all right, Mummy?” asked Julie and later Danny.

“Yes, I’m fine thank you?”

“It’s just you never wear your nightie unless you’re going to bed.”

“Well, kiddo, there’s a first time for everything.”

A while later I spoke to Simon and told him what Phoebe had asked me.

“How d’you manage it every time?”

“Manage what?”

“Adopting every waif and stray that comes in here. Even the bloody kitten seems to think you’re its mother.”

“I don’t know,I haven’t adopted Phoebe, I’m just letting her use me as a mother substitute, I think I might be a little more suited than Neal.”

“He’s got, Gloria,” Simon retorted.

“I don’t know if she and Phoebe hit it off together, besides, Phoebe asked me.”

“Because you’re closer to her mother’s age I expect,” Simon slipped in the dagger very quietly.

“What?” I sat up and hit him with my pillow.

“I was only joking,” he laughed fending off my blows.

“I’m not you miserable toad,” I said tersely and whopped him again.