The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike) Part 1948 by Angharad Copyright © 2013 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

Needless to say, I changed my jeans, washing them before they stained, along with some other coloured clothing I saw lying in the wash basket. I told Tom that I’d agreed to do a programme about the survey and he was pleased–at least that was the impression I got from his beaming smile.

The rest of the week went on as usual–you know, mayhem and madness with all the usual suspects. I just managed to stop Trish throwing the kitten out the window to see if they could always land on their feet–from that height she’d have broken her legs or done serious injury.

Meems tried to take Cate out for a walk in the pushchair without any adults with her. She got quite annoyed when I called her back and nearly pushed the chair out into the road–in an act of temper. I have never run down that drive so quickly in all my life.

Livvie somehow managed to put the end of the vacuum cleaner extension thing through the television screen. She was really upset, although it was an accident. Simon was even more upset but he had a new one sent along the same evening.

Danny had his bike stolen from school when he went to the football workshop they were running there over half term. It turned up at a car boot the following Sunday–we had the frame serial number and called the police. So that ended happily. I made him take a U-lock after that.

On the Tuesday afternoon, Livvie and Trish accompanied me to my house in Bristol, together with a pile of cases containing some decent clothing for the three of us. The sun shone making the driving far from easy–we were heading west–which meant we were driving into it the whole way.

We stopped at the supermarket on the way and bought milk and a few other bits and pieces, including some bread for breakfast. By the time we got there and unloaded the car, there was time for a quick cuppa and then we set off for the chip shop for our tea–we all had fish and chips. Usually what I do is to buy two adult portions and they have half each–and that night was no exception. I know it’s hardly healthy eating, but we don’t eat it that often and we all seem healthy enough on the diet we eat. We finished off with some fruit and they watched the telly while I decided which of the four lots of clothing I’d brought, I would actually wear.

The children had decided before we left home, although I also added a couple of other things just in case. In the boot of the car, I had a bouquet of flowers to place on my parent’s grave, and perhaps it was that which had me dreaming of my mother that night, either that or the fish and chips.

You may be aware that I sometimes have weird dreams–the one when I had pleurisy is possibly one of the more bizarre, bouncing across a desert on a space hopper, but then I was delirious. Sometimes I have seemingly prophetic dreams and sometimes I have dreams I don’t recall at all. I suppose if you don’t recall a prophetic one it becomes more pathetic than prophetic.

Occasionally I have nasty dreams and sometimes I have nice ones. That night was one of the latter category. I dreamt I was with the two girls at the cemetery and we’d just put the flowers on the grave when I turned around and my mum and dad were standing there holding hands with Billie.

I gasped, especially when the two girls rushed up and embraced their sister and then their deceased grandparents. I followed them cautiously but my need to embrace Billie was overwhelming and I know I was crying when I did so. I didn’t want to let her go, ever again but my mother coughed politely and I stood up and gave her a hug and also my dad. He could speak and act normally–in fact, for three dead people they looked very well. Yeah okay, but they did and it was a dream.

“So, Catherine, you’ve done very well for yourself,” I see, said my mother. “A wife and mother, like I said you would be, and doing very well considering all things.

“Mummy, you trained me very well, even if Daddy wasn’t aware quite what was going on most of the time.”

“I didn’t want to believe what I could see with my own eyes–that my Charlie, was actually a Charlotte–but I thought if I taught you all the skills of housekeeping, whatever happened, you’d be self sufficient.”

“I’m glad you did, Mummy, they’ve come in so handy ever since.”

“She’s a good mummy, Gran,” said Trish which Livvie supported.

“She’s the best mummy I ever had, I was so happy with her,” said Billie and made me sniff a bit.

“How come you buried Billie with Celia and Catherine Agnew instead of with your natural parents?”

“So I could visit the grave more easily.” Even in my dream I knew I was lying and my mother gave me one of her, ‘Oh yes,’ looks, which meant she didn’t believe one word of what I said.

I returned to hugging Billie when I could prise her away from Trish and Livvie.

“We see Celia and Catherine now and again, two delightful women,” my father entered the conversation. “They think the world of you and your kids.”

“I got that impression from just standing at the grave.”

“So you’ve met them?” he continued.

“Not quite, it’s more just an impression.”

“Catherine, all the women in our family are a bit psychic–just go with it, don’t keep looking for scientific evidence, some things are still to be discovered and may take many years.”

I shrugged, even in dreams I remain somewhat sceptical.

“Where are you going?” My mother called to my dad.

“Be back in a moment,” he shouted back and rushed off.

I continued chatting with my mother and hugging Billie who came to me several times for them. After one such hug, I glanced up and saw my dad returning with two women, one middle aged and the other about my age. He didn’t need to say, I knew exactly who they were.

In a greeting without words we just embraced and all three of us had tears in our eyes. “We meet at last,” I said hugging my namesake. She was a very attractive woman, prettier than I remembered from the photo in Tom’s wallet.

“I suppose we’re sort of sisters.”

“I suppose we are. You’re very pretty,” I said hugging her again.

“I might be, but you, dear sister, are simply beautiful.”

If you can blush in a dream, I did so. “She looked very pretty when she was doing that stupid play,” offered my mother, “more so as a schoolgirl than Lady Macbeth.”

“I couldn’t see it then, which I deeply regret,” said my father and I hugged him and told him I forgave him. He shrugged, “It was wicked of me, but I just wouldn’t see it–how stupid can you get?” I kissed him on the cheek and he grabbed me in a huge hug. “I did love you, Cathy, even if I got it all wrong.”

Celia thanked me for looking after Tom, saying that she knew he was in good hands. I thanked her, and we all hugged and kissed again before they all went off together, Billie holding the hand of my namesake.

“See, I told you she was about, didn’t I?” Trish said tapping my arm.

“Yes, dear,” I replied sleepily.

“Wake up, Mummy, somebody is trying to steal the car.”