The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike) Part 2035 by Angharad Copyright © 2013 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

I sat in the car and wept for several minutes, Trish and Livvie staying rather quiet with only Mima trying to comfort me. Eventually, I calmed down, dried my eyes and managed to drive home. The three wise monkeys in the back all decided to speak no evil, or anything else for that matter.

“What’s the matter?” asked Stella as I plodded along behind the children, she’d obviously spotted my red eyes.

“Oh nothing, I just feel a total failure.”

“Yeah, people who have more degrees than most of us have brain cells, run a household only slightly smaller than the White House, and been a mother to half a dozen very damaged children and at least three needy adults, and looked after ten zillion students and twice as many dormice–yeah, you’re definitely a failure.”

“You forgot crime fighter, healing angel and general good guy,” said David who looked as if he was doing something very tricky with pastry.

“Actress and inspirational speaker and teacher,” said Jacquie.

“You must introduce me to this fantasy figure you all seem to know, I need to change,” and I escaped their attempt to cheer me up. I went upstairs and changed out of my working clothes, a trouser suit from Debenhams designer collection, and slipped into jeans and a sweat shirt. It struck me as crazy that I’d gone through so much to be able to wear a skirt when I wanted to and then nearly always wore trousers.

I could hear the girls talking in their bedroom, but I crept past them and up to Danny’s room. He was lying on his bed listening to music and I sat down beside him. “If there’s room for two failures on there, shift over.”

He looked at me with a bemused expression and I lay down on the bed with him. After a short while he snuggled into me and I put my arm round him and felt him rather than saw him, weeping silently. I gently stroked the back of his neck and cooed to him. “You know we all love you whoever or whatever you seem to think you are, or want to be. It doesn’t matter to us, your family–we accept you as you accepted us. No one is alone in this family or household, we all love and protect each other.”

He sniffed, wiped his nose and said, “I know, Mummy.”

“One of the things we can never say often enough is, I love you. So, young Daniel, I love you as my child.”

“I love you too, Mummy–I’m sorry.”

“Hush now, just lie quietly and relax, my child.” He adjusted his position and I heard him yawn, a little later he gave a little shudder and I think drifted off to sleep. In a couple or so weeks, he’d be a teenager, an adolescent officially and here he was acting like a much younger child because he was frightened or insecure and presumably reverting to behaviour which felt safe. I was here as his doting mum so he was safe to revert for a short comforting period. I looked at my watch, it was half past four.

About six o’clock, Jacquie came looking for me. I’d nodded off myself but had been awake for about ten minutes trying not to think of anything, because as soon as I did, my mind would be filled with all the problems we seemed to have at present, and I had more important things to do–comforting Danny was one of them.

“Oh there you are, Mummy, Daddy’s phoned from the station. They’re going to be late, some problem with the train, so we should go ahead with dinner and they’ll get home as soon as they can.”

“Is David ready to serve?”

“Fifteen minutes, he said.”

“Okay, round up the rest will you and make sure they wash their paws. I’ll deal with sleeping beauty.”

She sniggered and went to sort out the girls.

“C’mon, Prince Charming, Cinderella needs to go to the loo.”

Danny stirred and looked at me in surprise, then he obviously remembered that he’d fallen asleep cuddling me, blushed and rubbed his eyes. I meanwhile slipped from my supporting position and rose up off the bed and stretched lazily.

“C’mon, kiddo, dinner’s ready.”

“I’m not very hungry.”

“Fine only eat half a ton, then.”

He chuckled at that and I smacked his bum and told him to get up and wash his face and hands. I went off to my en suite and did the same, probably wiping off makeup on my towel–but so what? When I looked in the mirror, I remembered I hadn’t put any on that morning–the towel was saved.

Danny followed me down the stairs, we were both yawning and still tired despite our naps. David had made a pile of turkey and vegetable pasties in puff pastry, plus creamed potato and salad. It looked and smelt delicious. Despite my lack of appetite I was determined to try one of the pasties.

Danny really was off his food, he only managed to eat four of the pasties, the girls all had one with creamed spud and salad and I had pretty much the same. They were really tasty and I put half a dozen into the slow oven of the Aga to keep them warm for Si and Sam. Twenty minutes after they’d arrived, I was placing the empty plates and dishes in the dishwasher and Simon was looking pleased with himself after eating his fill and drinking a glass of Guinness.

“That was good, babes,” he said before sipping his stout and burping.

“Save your compliments for David, he made them.”

“I know, but you set the menu.”

I could have lied and agreed with him but I chose to tell the truth, “Only when there’s something special coming up or he’s not available.”

“What, you’re skimping in your wifely duties?”

“Yeah, wanna make something of it?”

“Not at all,” he said blushing and possibly sensing I wasn’t up to joking. I made some fresh tea and Stella took hers off to the lounge–she’d suddenly discovered discretion, or was there something she wanted to watch on the telly?

“Okay, what’s bothering you?” asked Simon checking there were none of the others about. I got up and closed the kitchen door, a sign I didn’t want to be disturbed. I told him about Danny and he shook his head slowly. “What should we do with him?”

“With him, I think treat him as normal but give him some extra love; what we should do for him–I think we need some advice there. He’s very insecure and unsure of himself. He even missed a football match in school on Tuesday evening.”

“Oh, want me to go and talk with him–male solidarity, an’ all that?”

“No, just let him be.”

“Last time we did that he tried to hang himself if you recall?”

“I don’t think I shall ever forget it, darling. I have great faith in him not trying something like that this time.”

“Can you be sure of that?”

“I can’t be sure of anything, but I didn’t sense despair in him, more confusion and fear of what conclusions could bring.”

“What, you mean if he’s a poo...gay, you mean?”

“Simon, I don’t care what he is, I’m his mother and I’ll love him come what may.”

“Don’t you think that applies to fathers as well?”

“No I don’t think that at all, I believe you’ll love him unconditionally as well, but in telling him so you’ll probably cause him to run off to a Trappist monastery, he’ll feel so embarrassed.”

“That good, eh?”

“It’s his birthday next month, he’ll be thirteen, what should we get him?”

“How the hell would I know?”

“You were a thirteen year old boy–once.”

“Twice actually.”

“What?”

“I did a lap of honour at twenty six–but that was before you knew me.”

“I think I’m rather glad it was.” This discussion could take some time.