The Daily Dormouse. Sixth Anniversary Edition. (aka Bike) Part 2086 by Angharad Copyright © 2013 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

The time was half past one. I yawned, drank some more of the cold water and then went up to bed. Simon was fast asleep, I undressed quickly and slipped into bed beside him and was soon asleep myself. To my astonishment when I awoke I felt like I’d slept a full night and had more energy than I’d had for a long time.

Simon was still fast asleep, though it was already six o’clock I slipped out of bed and into the shower, taking off the bandage as I did. My ankle was now completely normal and pain free. The shower was enjoyable and I dried then dressed myself before switching on the radio and nipping downstairs before Simon came to.

He came down half an hour later followed by Sammi in her suit and high heels. She still looked like a supermodel, but I was pleased she didn’t succumb to those who would seek to exploit her.

She’d been seeing a boy called Nathan Cook who also worked in London and commuted back to Portsmouth each day. In fact, they’d met on the train when it lurched and she ended up sitting on his lap. He asked her for a date and she accepted after telling him she didn’t do sex before marriage. He agreed to her terms and after they’d been going out for a month or two she told him the truth. He was devastated, and initially felt as if he’d been betrayed, but two months later he bumped into her again and told her he still liked her and could they start again. Romantic that she is, she agreed. Simon had him vetted. When he told me I nearly went berserk, but he defended his action by saying that he would do it for any of his daughters. Besides, he said the report was a good one.

So Sammi’s little romance blossomed, which made Julie and Phoebe very jealous, but also pleased for her. Julie had bigger fish to fry than worrying about boyfriends. She was still intent on buying the salon, but Simon wasn’t sure if it was a good idea financially. The lease was due for renewal in five years and he thought it would be doubled in price by then.

I argued that by which time she’d have built up a regular clientele and would therefore have the option of renewing the lease or moving to a less expensive premises and hopefully taking the bulk of the clients with them. He wasn’t so sure. I was tempted to say, ‘How much d’you need, I’ll loan it to you’–then I discovered she was talking about fifty thousand. I decided Simon could afford it better than I. He promised to think about it again, perhaps spurred on by intervention.

Phoebe was tempted to invest the money that came from her late mother’s estate but I told her to hang on to it for now. She argued that once she qualified she’d need a job and being a partner in the salon would guarantee one. For the moment she left her money in the bank.

Simon had a couple more days to come to a decision before Madge, the salon owner, needed an answer. I told Julie to tell her she was interested but was still raising the money.

Someone I hadn’t considered becoming involved was Tom. I know he wasn’t short of a few bob, but to risk thousands didn’t seem a good idea for someone who was close to retirement. However, he threw his hat into the ring and offered to loan her twenty five thousand which she’d pay back on an interest free basis. She nearly hugged him to death.

Once Simon found out that Tom was undermining him as patriarchal money-bags, he offered to do the same. She was dancing round the kitchen when he told her. So was Phoebe, because Julie agreed she would keep a job open for her when she finished college. I quietly offered to pay her legal expenses, drafting of leases and so on and a bit towards advertising. She wanted to call the place ‘Twayblades’ and use the orchid which shares the name as her logo. I agreed to pay for the design and printing of some stationery. In three months she was going to be her own boss and she wasn’t yet twenty. I was nearly thirty and still an employee, oh yeah, and a bank director.

Trish was disgusted when she got up and found my ankle was better, almost accusing Cindy of stealing her thunder. Cindy was of course horrified by the accusation, as she hadn’t done anything to warrant it. I had to explain to brain box that it had all happened spontaneously after I asked it to get better. Stella overheard me and asked if I’d done the same with the weather because we were now on our third week of sunshine–more than the past two summers combined–or so it felt.

The girls asked to go to the beach again, but I decided it was too dangerous a place for me to frequent. Arguably, the thing about twisting my ankle was a ruse for me to meet Ed and get him a job with Maureen, assuming she had one to offer and they liked each other enough to be able to work together.

Apparently they did, because Maureen invited herself over for coffee to tell me she’d hired him and then he appeared with a bunch of flowers to thank me for the introduction and the clothes. When I protested about the flowers he related that he’d had a bit of luck with the tax man who’d paid him back five hundred pounds for an overpayment, so for the moment he could afford to give me a proper thank you.

Seeing Maureen again was good. She works most of the time now and her business is coming along nicely. I was pleased for her and reserved the right to claim priority when the mood was upon me. She is so different to how she first was, she’s so much more confident and capable and she’s making money–decent money, for the first time in her life as a woman. She spends most of her time pricing jobs and doing quotes, but it keeps her busy and also brings in the money needed to keep her workforce in full time employment.

When I told her Julie’s news, she was delighted for her and offered her help to remodel the shop or pull it apart and rebuild it. I thanked her and told her I’d ask Julie to phone her.

Cindy’s mother, Brenda, called and asked if we could have her until the weekend, because her gran was going into a convalescent home for a week and then she’d be well enough to come home–she hoped. I called Cindy and she spoke to her mum and when she was told she could stay until the end of the week, she whooped and danced around the kitchen–what is it with my kitchen that impels people to dance round the table?