The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike) Part 2059 by Angharad Copyright © 2013 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

Instead of sitting down in my own dining room and eating a lovely meal cooked by David, I’m in a minibus with the rest of the family on the way to Southsea. I should be lounging about in my jeans and trainers, instead I’m all dressed up in a summer dress wearing heels and makeup, and Simon, who should be in his rugby shirt and jeans is wearing a jacket and dress shirt with smart slacks. He looks very smart. He should, his clothes cost a fortune, as do mine. In fact we’re all dressed up like dog’s dinners, just to go for Sunday lunch at the hotel. Apparently, it’s only a couple of years since they relaxed the ‘men should wear a tie’ rule because it was losing them money.

The girls looked very clean and tidy and were enjoying every moment of it. I suppose they don’t get the chance to strut their stuff very often, especially the younger ones. I even managed to talk Jacquie into wearing a skirt–one of Julie’s. Julie poured herself into a very fitted dress which could get uncomfortable once she’s stuffed a full lunch into her tum. Sammi looks elegant as she always does. She’s in a skirt and top despite her being tallish, she’s wearing heels too and disgustingly walks as well or better than I do. She’s in silly heels, I’m in my usual three inchers–over that they start to hurt quite quickly. Julie has skyscraper heels on as well, and she walks quite well, too, while Jacquie has ballet pumps, refusing to wear heels, full stop. Good for her.

Danny looks tidy for once, his hair all standing up on end–as is the current fashion–I’ve taken a photo so we can embarrass him when he’s a bit older. He’s in a smart shirt and trousers. Cate is in her best dress although I have a spare one in the huge bag I’ve brought out with me. It will go into a small downstairs room along with all the swimming gear they’ve brought with them. I have warned them they will have to wait an hour after eating before they can swim.

Stella and her two decided to stay at home, as did David, although they were invited to come with us. David said he’d do a dinner for them all, so I left them to it. Mind you, if I find they had a better meal than we did, I might become a widow quite soon afterwards.

I decided that I wouldn’t use the gym or the pool but just go and watch those who did take a dip. Jacquie and Julie said they’d take Cate into the pool with them if I was happy with the idea. I wasn’t sure because she tends to wee as soon as I put her in the bath–still, I suppose the pool has filters for such things.

The meal was excellent, or at least mine was. I had roast Welsh lamb and it was perfect. With it I had new potatoes, spring greens, carrots and cauliflower–and it wasn’t au gratin, thank goodness. I really can’t stand these pretentious places that have to pour cheese sauce over the poor cauliflower, having cooked it to death first. Cauli should be slightly crisp not like soap, easily cut with a soup spoon.

Simon, Tom and Danny had steak–must be a man thing, Julie and Sammi had the lamb, as did the three girls and Cate. Jacquie had salmon–oh well, she missed out on a real treat. I had sorbet for dessert, Simon and Tom had chocolate gateau which looked enough calories to keep a whole village of refugees alive for a week.

Si and Tom had a bottle of wine between them, so I suspect I’d be calling the bus back when we were ready. The kids went off to the television lounge to watch some film or other for an hour and then they could use the pool for an hour. Jacquie and Sammi stayed with the adults for half an hour before they sloped off to change. Sammi had a frill round her swimsuit which hid her anomaly while Julie and the younger girls were all in bikinis. They’re all reasonable swimmers so I’m not too worried about them, except the memory of Meems drowning and the energy bringing her back at my insistence. So, I’ll watch all the kids with a wary eye while they’re in the pool even though swimming is probably my weakest sport, I’ll be ready to jump in even in a four hundred pound silk designer dress, if any of them were in trouble. Although there are life guards, well at least one, at all times.

At three o’clock, I sat with Tom and Simon while we watched the kids walk out to the pool, Julie was carrying Cate who looked really excited. I watched as Danny swam a couple of lengths then had a dive off the two metre board. He did quite well, better than I would, I’m sure. The girls were all playing with Cate who was squealing the place down with pleasure, but I’m willing to bet she wet herself. Simon and Tom were snoozing–sleeping off the after effects of the wine while I slipped over the gate to collect the baby. I had stuff to change her in the spectator’s gallery–sounds rather posh for a collection of seats round a few tables in a sort of large alcove.

As I was walking across to collect her I happened to glance at the deep end where a large man was bouncing on the two metre board when his foot slipped and he went off the side hitting the life guard who was leaning over the poolside talking to someone in the water. The big bloke hit both of them quite hard and all three disappeared under the water.

The water is only about two metres deep but that is quite deep enough to drown someone, especially someone who is dazed or unconscious. I watched in horror as a thin red streak seemed to drift to the surface and only the big bloke came up for air and he was struggling.

Why did no one else seem to see it? “Get help,” I shouted to the girls and anyone else who was listening, and ran along the pool side towards the scene of the accident. The large man was dragging himself out and one of the other two was now on the surface and swimming weakly to the side. The life guard was on the bottom and not moving. I had no choice. I pulled off the dress, and in bra and panties dived in and swam down to the drowning man. The bleeding had stopped, I hoped that wasn’t because his heart had done the same, and grabbing him I pushed hard off the bottom and hoped I’d get him up to the surface. A splash alongside me indicated someone else had jumped in to help. It transpired it was Danny who’s done some life saving training. Between us we pulled him to the side by which time two staff had arrived and hauled him out. I pulled myself out by the steps suspecting I looked as dreadful as I felt. Thankfully my lingerie had stayed put, and I gratefully accepted a large dry towel from another member of staff.

I often carry spare panties in my bag–but not today–so I had to sit about in the towel until they felt dry enough to go home. By the time the others had dried and changed, they weren’t too bad. I dried my hair with a borrowed hair drier up in the family suite and cleaned off my makeup–I looked like a panda on speed.

When the drama was over, I returned to the spectator’s gallery and collected my sleeping spouse and adopted father who’d slept though it all. In fact, on the ride home, Simon asked why I’d taken my makeup off and my dress seemed creased. I told him I’d had sex with the manager. He roared. I asked him why and he laughed again then said, “He’s gay, you silly bugger.”

“Not any more,” I replied and he gave me suspicious looks all the way home.