The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike) Part 2003 by Angharad Copyright © 2013 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

The evening wore on and I cajoled the younger members of the family to their beds by agreeing to read a story. I left the girls still awake but drowsy as they thought about the latest dilemma their cycling heroine had landed herself in. I felt some similarities, although of course hers are fictional, while mine remain tainted by being real.

Henry and Stella were in deep discussion about something while Simon was chatting with Julie, shaking his head and laughing.

“What’s so funny?” I asked standing beside Simon squeezing his shoulder affectionately.

“This baggage seems to think that if she gives her Smart car to Stella, I’ll buy her something like a Jaguar.”

“Well, Smart cars are made by Mercedes, so wouldn’t that be a retrograde step?”

Simon’s eyeballs nearly popped when I challenged the pedigree of his car, then he got the message. “Yeah, I suppose it would,” he said, agreeing with me.

“What, Pinkie is a Merc?” gasped Julie.

“I thought you knew that–that Mercedes build and service them.”

“Like if I did I’d be asking you?”

I shrugged, I thought I was the one behind on contemporary culture preferring Beethoven to Snow Patrol or whoever was her latest fad.

“I’ve agreed to let Stella have the Corsa,” Henry called across to us.

“That settles that then,” I said quietly and squeezed Simon’s shoulder again.

“Looks like it,” he agreed and smoothed my bottom as I walked away. Perhaps we were finally over our tiff.

Henry announced he was leaving–he had an hour and a half’s drive home.

“You could stay if you wish, Henry,” I offered.

“Only if I get to sleep with the mistress of the house,” he whispered to me.

“You could sleep with her husband if you like,” I teased back.

“What? The court jester?”

“That was cruel–remember he inherited half of everything from your genes.”

“That’s the problem, he’s a half wit. Now, the original...”

“Lothario?” I offered in seeming innocence.

“You cut me to the quick.”

“Stay there I’ll get a bigger knife.”

He hugged me and pecked me on the cheek–“Ah, unrequited love–there’s nothing like it.”

“I thought nothing in it would have been more accurate.”

“Madam, you torment this passionate body.”

“Of course, a girl has to have her fun where she can get it.” I watched Stella as we fenced, she was sniggering and shaking her head. Simon had gone off somewhere, possibly to bed, or just to the loo.

“I must go, dear lady. Oh, the board would like some sort of report on our ecological standpoint for the next meeting.”

“When’s that?”

“Wednesday week.”

“That’s a bit short notice, Henry.”

“Just write something about the start of building at the wood.”

“Um,” I blushed, “I commissioned a new survey on that.”

“Why?” he seemed more curious than anything.

“Because it wasn’t the best place for it, I suspect we might have great crested in the pond they’d have to drain.”

“Great crested what? Grebes?”

“No, Henry, newts.”

“You have some drunks in the pond?”

“I’m well aware you knew what I meant all along, I’ve seen the wildlife and countryside act pamphlet on your desk.”

“Just because it was on my desk doesn’t mean I read it. If you recall, we had a royal visitor who would be impressed by such desk fodder. Anyway, a report on why you changed the site for the visitor centre would make a suitable paper for the meeting.”

“I’ll get on to it tomorrow.”

“Good girl, I must away.”

“Whit tae yer pit?” I asked in calamitous Lallans.

“Aye hen, tae ma pit. Guid nicht.” He pecked me on the cheek once again and grabbed his jacket. “Despite the rather chaotic nature of this unplanned visit, I’ve enjoyed my visit and my meal. I must poach David off you for the hotel.”

“I wouldn’t swap him for two hotels–not even on Park Lane.”

He shook his head and sighed, “I can’t keep up with your quips, girl, I must be getting old.”

“You’re not old,” I said rubbing imaginary fluff off his jacket, “just dignified.”

“Cathy, I love you–run away with me, leave this halfwit and elope with me.”

“Much as I value your offer, to accept would cause me to commit bigamy. I therefore decline.”

“Big of you? What are you one about?”

“Very funny, Henry–go on bugger off before it starts to get light.”

“Light? It’s eleven o’clock.”

“Twenty three hundred,” I suggested.

“I’m going, I know when I’m beat.”

“As in dead beat?”

“Something like that.”

Then I received a message from my mobile, I read it and commented on my text. “It’s from the survey team, they finished early, so the price is reduced. My site is so much better.”

“Well you’ll have to report that to the share holders. Sounds like an interesting study.”

“I’m sure it is.” This time I threw my arms round his neck and pecked him on the cheek and withdrew before he could grab me.

“I’ll never wash that side of my face again.”

My response was to laugh out loud–very loud.

“Ach ye scunner.”

He finally left us at eleven fifteen, the rate he was going he could have been in bed by now had he left when he first announced it. Oh well, that’s Henry, I can see where Simon gets it from. He did agree to let us know by text when he got home, so I’d take my phone to bed with me. Not that I didn’t always, but tonight I’d leave it switched on.

By the time I got to bed, Simon was fast asleep and I decided not to wake him. I cleaned my teeth and had a wee before changing into my nightdress, then slipped in beside him. he muttered something but I didn’t catch it so I let it go, which has to be an improvement–doesn’t it?