The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike) Part 2081 by Angharad Copyright © 2013 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

Cindy’s mum eventually phoned and after talking with her she asked to speak with me. “Lady Cameron, I’m sorry that I dumped Cindy on you, but you were the only one I could think of who I knew would have no problem with her, and she said she liked you and your family.”

“She’s a delightful young woman.”

“She’s had a lot to cope with. The council school wasn’t prepared to cope with her changing over so we had to get her into that private one, but we think it’s a good school.”

“It is a good school.”

“I suppose it must be if you’ve got your children there.”

“Quite.” I let a short pause pass before asking, “How is your mum?”

“Rather poorly, I’ve spent most of the time at the hospital trying to rouse her.”

“She had a stroke?”

“Yes, she seems to be in some sort of coma.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. Should Cindy visit her, if only to say goodbye?”

“I don’t know, I’m so worried and so tired.” She sounded really tearful.

“Look, why don’t you have a break this evening and I’ll take Cindy in with me, who knows it might help.”

“But you’re doing so much already...”

“Right, that’s sorted then, I’ll go and see her and take Cindy with me if she wants to go.”

“But...”

“You have an early night and you’ll feel better tomorrow.” I made my goodbyes and went and found Cindy, who looked about eighteen with all the make up on. “I’m going to see your gran, would you like to come?”

“Oh yes please, is she better?”

“I don’t think so, but I thought we’d give your mum a rest.”

“Oh, she’s gonna die, isn’t she?”

“I don’t know, Cindy, I’m not a doctor.” Fortunately none of my kids said anything so I was able to avoid them suggesting I heal on her. She looked forlorn. I suggested she clean off the makeup and while she went off to do that I briefly told the children to keep the blue stuff quiet. They seemed to understand and the conspiratorial atmosphere had cleared by the time the thirteen year old came back.

Half an hour later we were at the hospital and walking down towards the ward. “What if she looks awful?” asked Cindy sounding close to tears.

“She’s your grandmother, Cindy, she loves you and I suspect you love her too.”

“Yes, I do,” she spoke with a tiny voice.

“See her not as she is at the moment, seriously ill, but think of all the love she’s given you over the years. The support she’s given you recently, think of all the good things. We’re here to try and help her not to make her feel worse, so let’s keep it positive, okay?”

“I’ll try,” said the same tiny voice and she clasped my hand like a vice.

Thankfully, Gran was in a side ward in a single room. That in itself didn’t bode well but it did give me more scope to ad lib things if the occasion required it. As I’ve said before, the energy does what it will, occasionally I’ve asked it to help me and other times, I seem to have simply been the conveyance it used to get somewhere. I could be wrong but, that’s how it felt.

The woman I’d met at the cafe and the school was nowhere to be seen. Instead, lying in the bed was a shell of her. She looked as if something had sucked half of her away. She had a drooping mouth and eye, a typical Bell’s palsy, and she looked to have shrunk by half. For a moment I wondered if it was actually her, and so did Cindy.

Then something remarkable happened. I felt the energy going into the young woman, who having been almost withdrawn, suddenly released my hand and walked up her grandmother and stroked her face before leaning over and kissing her. She spoke to her and continued touching her, stroking her hand and her face and I could feel the old lady relaxing. The troubled look which had been on her face went and I’m sure the drooping mouth and eye seemed to look better. What was going on?

I stayed back and let Cindy, who seemed to have matured by about twenty years, administer the healing and she acted like she’d been here before the way she talked, the way she touched her gran, at the same time, I knew I was producing most of the power she was using.

The old lady’s eyes flickered open and she saw her granddaughter and her face gave a large smile before she seemed to slip into a sleep state. “We can go now,” said Cindy, “she needs to rest.”

“How long have you been doing that?” I asked once we were back in the car.

“For about a year, once I changed over to being a girl for real instead of in my mind, it seemed to happen. It’s usually small stuff, helping injured animals or birds, sometimes people, but only with little things. I didn’t think I’d be able to help Gran, but I know she’s going to be alright now. You helped me, didn’t you?”

“Did I?” I asked trying to be neutral.

“Yes, you gave me the confidence to try and show my love in a positive way. What you said to me really helped, so I concentrated on the good things like love, that Gran and I had shared. I felt myself buzzing with energy and it was coming from you. You’re a very powerful healer aren’t you?”

“Am I?”

“You know you are, I can see a bright light shining round you. I’ve never seen that with anyone before.”

“Perhaps you’re just tired.”

“I’m okay, at my age Gran was working to help her mother pay the rent. I just go to school and help Mum round the house a bit, easy really.”

“You’re a really nice young woman, Cindy, and I think your mum and gran are lucky to have you.”

“It took them a while to understand about it all, but there’s quite a few programmes on telly have helped them understand and things in newspapers and magazines. I knew I was different from when I was about five, probably earlier. Then the healing stuff started to happen and it made me feel an even bigger freak, so I kept it hidden.

“I heard there was a girl in school who was doing things–but it was only rumours. I wondered if she was like me, you know, different but she isn’t–she’s an ordinary girl, and you’re a proper woman and you have it too, only much more powerfully. You’re the one they call the mysterious healer, aren’t you–saving people’s lives, the Angel of Portsmouth.”

“Does it matter who I am or what I’ve done?”

“Yeah, course it does, you’ve saved loads of lives.”

“It doesn’t matter what I’ve done, what’s important is that it’s happened, that others have been given a second chance.”

“That’s how I feel about Gran, she’s been given a second chance.”

“Because you focused on the love between you and sent it to her in huge amounts.”

She stopped and thought for a moment. “You helped me, didn’t you?”

“You did all the work, it only happened because you wanted it to.”

“I love her, she’s my gran,” she said and burst into tears. I hugged her and she cried on my shoulder for several minutes. “She is going to get better, isn’t she?”

“Yes, she is, but it’s your love that saved her.”

“And some help from an angel.”

“Let’s go home and have a nice cuppa.”

“Thank you Dr Watts.”

“That sounds a bit formal doesn’t it, how about you call me Auntie Cathy?”

“Ummm, I'd like that,” she practically purred.