The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike) Part 1994 by Angharad Copyright © 2013 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

“Hi, are you Dr Cathy Watts?”

“Yes, speaking.”

“I’m Neil Sanson. Your husband asked me to contact you about the woodland survey.”

“You’re a surveyor?”

“Yes–something about siting a visitor centre?”

“Yes, when are you available?”

“Earliest, this afternoon, then not till next week.”

“What time this afters?”

“From twoish.”

“D’you know where to go?”

“Sort of.”

“Hold on, I’ve got map references somewhere.” I put the phone down and dragged out the file on the centre, then a moment or two later I was able to give him a grid reference and he obviously wrote it down and read it back to me. “Will you find it from that?”

“I certainly will, I’m surprised that you’re using one–women usually don’t.”

“I might have a PhD but I can still tie my own shoe laces, and I don’t actually live in my ivory tower, just work in one.”

He laughed, “That’s telling me. I look forward to seeing you there about two.”

“I’ll have to bring one or two of my kids with me, is that okay?”

“Course–as long as you take responsibility for their safety.”

“Why what are you going to do?”

“Just have a look round, a survey will take a day or two–just getting a feel for the place, and I believe you’re challenging a previous survey?”

“Just a bit, yes.”

“Okay, see you later.”

The next matter was to organise who was going to do what regarding the children, I wanted to take Trish and Danny with me, but wasn’t sure about the others not playing up if they thought they were missing something. Meems was okay, she was busy with Jacquie sorting out Catie and Fiona, but Livvie would not be pleased to be left out. Perhaps I could take the three older ones and leave Meems playing with the smaller ones? I need to go and convince her that to do so would be helping me. I also need to get lunch organised early–David had the day off, so that was my responsibility.

I decided on scrambled eggs on toast with some of the crispy bacon slices we bought in Marks & Sparks, crumbled over the top. I announced what we were eating for lunch, and seeing Meems was busy hosting a tea party with Puddin’, I left her alone for the moment. The littlies were probably unscrewing the legs from the dog or some such other fun. When I checked they were colouring with pencils in a book–not the legs of the piano.

The clock was showing eleven and I sent a text to Si telling him I’d heard from the surveyor. He replied a few minutes later saying that he’d heard he was very good. I hoped the rumours were correct.

I called Danny and quickly explained what I wanted to do. He was a little apprehensive about meeting a complete stranger at a woodland, but he knew I’d be there and he’d come. I also spoke to Livvie and Trish, who were fiddling with computers, probably shutting down the uranium processing in Iran, or pointing missiles from North Korea towards China. They do like their fun. I told them what I planned to do and they were very keen to come. Trish then almost fazed me by saying that Billie would come too. It was going to be her centre, so why not?

I sent them up to change and to put their boots in the car, which they did, and of course I took Stella and Jacqui into my confidence, they were okay with looking after the remaining two of my brood and obviously her two as well. I suggested they go and feed the ducks as we had some stale sliced bread. Simon had bought six extra wholemeal loaves and we’d only consumed four, which was what I asked him to get in the first place.

The fifth loaf was being toasted for lunch and the tray of eggs were destined to be cracked and beaten–okay, I was feeling violent–and turned into scrambled ova. Danny got the job of making a loaf of toast, Livvie was tasked with buttering said charred bread, Trish was breaking up the pack of crispy bacon, and I had a cracking time with a tray of eggs.

It was half past twelve when the feast was offered to the gods and then consumed by a host of hungry Camerons. How Danny tasted his, I’ll never know, it had so much tomato ketchup on it, it looked like it had suffered an aortic bleed, (the aorta is the biggest artery in the mammalian body). Had it been chocolate sauce, they could have used it as footage for a remake of Psycho–it was what Hitchcock used in the shower scene, chocolate sauce not scrambled egg–concentrate!

After clearing up the mess, I asked for volunteers to take Auntie Stella to feed the ducks–Meems volunteered and so did Puddin’–it was a fait accompli, the littlies had no idea with whom they were dealing or in my case double dealing. Off they went with Jacquie and Stella–lagged to the eyeballs, while the rest of us collected binoculars and notebooks–and bird identification guide and set off for the woods.

We arrived there with ten minutes to spare, although in parking I had to drive through a muddy puddle and splashed gloop all over the car. Neil arrived a few minutes later while we were still attaching boots to our feet. He came in an old fashioned Land Rover–Danny learned later that he spent half his life working on it, keeping it going but it was his hobby as well as his transport. I learned this when I heard him telling Danny, “Yeah, my mum’s the same with bikes.”

“What, motor bikes?”

“Nah, proper bikes–mainly racers.”

“Your mum repairs bikes?”

“Yeah, she builds them too, and wheels.”

“She’s obviously a very capable lady.”

“Yeah, Lady Cameron to be precise.”

“I thought her name was Watts?”

“That’s her professional name when she’s torturing dormice.”

“Right, she doesn’t torture people then?”

“Only if they annoy her, then she gets Dad to rip out their overdraft and call in their mortgages.”

“Nice,” Neil replied meaning the exact opposite to what he’d actually said.

“So how can a university lecturer do that?”

“Oh, we own a bank–didn’t you know?”

“No–no, I didn’t.”

“Yeah, High Street.”

Neil went rather pale so I assume he must bank with us. “You’re not kidding me, are you?”

“No, my grandfather is Viscount Cameron, he owns the bank.”

“He owns a big part of my house too.”

“Keep in with Mum then.”

“I think that might be quite good advice, young man.”

We walked to where they had suggested putting the centre and Neil shook his head. “The place we looked at first at first glance would be more suitable–they’d have to drain this pond, it would need more services. Anyway, we’ll do a full survey with core samples taken as well, see exactly what’s underneath.

“Mummy,” said Trish pulling my coat, “Billie prefers the other place–this isn’t very nice.”

“Billie? Who’s Billie?” asked Neil.

“My dead sister, she’s standing beside you at the moment, looking at your notes.” As Trish spoke, Neil spun round and stepped into a deep puddle and nearly fell over. He was covered in muddy water which just accentuated his pallor .

“You can see her?” he asked trembling.

“Yeah, I can see dead people, can’t you?”

“Uh–no, no I can’t. Right, I’ll get a team up here and we’ll get the results back to you as soon as we can–probably be about three to four weeks.”

“Fine, thank you.” I went to offer my hand in thanks but he said something about, ‘gotta dash,’ and took off as if the hounds of hell were after him. Danny and Trish thought it was really funny.

“Huh–fancy being scared of a girl,” said Trish hands on hips.

“I think the gender was irrelevant, Trish, it was the dead bit which spooked him.”

“Spooked,” she laughed, “that’s good for you, Mummy, even Billie thought that was funny.”