The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike) Part 1894 by Angharad Copyright © 2012 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

I followed through to the lounge just in time to see Stella rescue Puddin’ from the fireplace. Obviously there was no fire lit, but she had a brush and was trying to sweep the chimney–she’d been watching Mary Poppins earlier and fancied herself as Dick Van Dyke. If she starts talking in that fake cockney accent he used, I shall personally shove her up the chimney and light the fire.

She had some soot on her clothing and we managed to shake much of it out before throwing it in the washing machine–having removed it from Pud first. She was taken upstairs and dumped unceremoniously in the bath and scrubbed from head to foot. She was still glowing a bright pink when Stella brought her back down.

I got to thinking about Des, Puddin’s dad. I still had the letter he wrote me which his uncle had given me on the reading of the will. I continued to be unable to understand how he could fancy me over someone like Stella. I should have done a variation order and altered the will because now, although I’ve invested the money I get for the rental of the cottage, which Puddin’ will receive when she’s twenty one. When she does get it, there will be more awkward questions.

I remember Stella being very strange after he died and them having to admit her for psychiatric care at the clinic near Hastings. At one point, my car would have gone there by itself, I went so often to see her. Then we had the drama when the baby was born and the aftermath of that. Some people are born lucky, poor old Stella seems to have been born unlucky. Either that or someone has put a curse on her to stop her having a good life. If they have and I find out who it is, they’ll feel the sharp edge of my tongue and my feet or knuckles on other parts my tongue misses.

Personally I don’t believe in curses and other forms of mumbo-jumbo, unless the victim on learning he’s cursed, begins to act as if they were under the influence of the spiteful thoughts of the curser. It made me smile to think the person who curses is a homophone of the little arrow thing on a computer screen, and have I cursed that a few times–though that of course is a cursor.

Curious language English, I must learn to speak it one day–the person who is the victim in all of this isn’t the curse but the accursed. If they were in the dock of a criminal court would they be the accursed accused? Answers on a post card, usual address.

Now, back to the present and the still glowing Puddin’, she didn’t seem any the worse for the soot or the subsequent scouring. Perhaps one day I’d read them The Water Babies by Charles Kingsley which was all about the abuse of children in the workplace.

It seems bizarre to think that in Victorian times children were put to work in factories, mines or even in large houses, where the injury or sickness risks were phenomenal and many of them died. Today we sometimes seem to overprotect them, but as recent events in Connecticut have shown that it’s impossible to protect them all the time from acts of barbarism by strange people–by strange, I mean strange in a psychiatric sense, because no normal person could cold bloodedly murder twenty primary school kids.

If we look at some of the practices in the third world, children are exploited as poor families make them work to help bring in a wage. It’s scandalous in the twenty first century that such practices are still extant. So come back Charles Kingsley and Lord Shaftesbury, there is still work to be done to protect children.

The news from America had made me feel so sad for the families of the victims, the children and their brave teachers who’d tried to protect them. It added to my abhorrence of guns but as I’ve mentioned this before, I won’t dwell on it.

I wasn’t sure what else to do with Mima, except to tell her to just walk away if she felt someone was trying to provoke her, at the same time, if she’s going to get into fisticuffs, to make the first blow she lands, count. I think she might have that sorted already.

I carried Catherine back to the study and put her down. She burped again, giggled and ran off down the hallway back to the main part of the house. I heard another burp and giggles a few seconds later. I was trying not to react because she was now aware of attention getting through things she did. I didn’t want to encourage her in such pursuits by reacting and thus rewarding her behaviour.

I was cogitating on these things instead of the ash dieback disease when the phone rang, then my phone rang, “For you, Cathy.”

“Hello?”

“Mrs Cameron?” asked a woman’s voice.

“Yes, who is that please?”

“Mrs Russell, Melanie’s mother.”

“Good evening, how can I help you?”

“My husband and I are distressed to discover my daughter has a large bruise on her face which she says your daughter gave her.”

“My daughter also has a bruise on her face caused by your daughter.” She didn’t but Russell didn’t know that.

“I don’t believe my daughter would indulge in fisticuffs, she says your daughter hit her first.”

“Did she say why Jemima slapped her?”

“Yes, your daughter is a bad tempered thug who started a fight with her.”

“I can’t say what happened but I can say what the headmistress told me and that was your daughter was teasing my daughter, who has a speech impediment, to the point of exasperation. Jemima is at least two years younger than Melanie and thus quite a bit smaller.”

“That’s all lies. Melanie said that Jemima just ran up and hit her.”

“Obviously hard enough to induce amnesia,” I said sarcastically.

“That’s enough of that attitude. My husband has examined her and considers that the bruising is enough to involve the police. He’s a doctor you know?”

“Yes, I do know. He would also be aware that being a child under ten years of age, no sort of prosecution is possible, though perhaps I might counter sue, as your daughter would be just about old enough.”

“It was you I was going to sue for being unable to control your children.”

“Fine, I hope you’ve got a good legal team and deep pockets because it’s going to cost you and I only have the resources of a bank to help me. Good day, Mrs Russell, see you in court.” I put the phone down. I was seething.

“Want a cuppa?” asked Stella then picking up my mood she asked, “Who’s upset you?”

“That bloody woman is talking about suing us because Mima thumped her disgusting offspring.”

“What woman?”

“Dr Russell’s wife. He’s examined his precious daughter’s face and it’s all bruised.”

“Through Mima hitting her?”

“So she claims.”

“She’s hardly big enough to cause massive bruising.”

“I’ll speak to Sister Maria on Monday.”

Stella shook her head, “What was she doing to provoke Mima to hit her?”

“Teasing her.”

Stella shook her head again, “And I thought I was spoilt,” she muttered before going back to make the tea.