The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2111 by Angharad Copyright © 2013 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

You know when it happens that being covered in baby sick is not the worst thing in the world. In fact there are probably hundreds of things which are worse; but at the moment of impact, you forget that and you stand up, make sure everyone can see that you’ve been baptised in vomit, then wave your hands around like some spastic windmill while saying something inane–we always say inane things at times of emergency.

“Oh thanks, Lizzie, I really needed that.” The fact that I’d jumped up like my body had been covered in battery acid had shocked her and her bottom lip began to tremble and within moments one of us was crying and the other felt like it. Of course this was a moment of embarrassment for the others, a hysterical woman and a howling six month old, and there followed some embarrassed laughter.

My first act after tearing off my stained clothing was to fix the laugher with a withering stare–then we had two crying children. Things were getting better by the moment. I flung my fouled clothing in the washing machine while Stella picked up the baby and began to comfort her. I wiped myself off with a towel and flung that in the machine as well, then ran upstairs and pulled on another pair of jeans only to discover the bra has sick on it. In my efforts to get it off, I got myself into an awful tangle and practically tore the clip off I was so angry.

I was prancing round bare breasted when Simon came up. “What’s going on?” he asked.

“I’d have thought that was pretty obvious.”

“No. An experienced parent like you should have dealt with that better.”

“If it’s so easy you feed her,” I snapped back while fishing another bra from my drawer.

“Don’t be so ridiculous, Cathy.”

“Ridiculous, am I? Go to hell.” I went to walk past him but he grabbed my wrist and I struggled to escape but he enveloped me in a bear hug and held me tightly. I struggled but his grip was unyielding and then I just burst into tears pleading with him to let me go.

He held me looser but he was now patting my back and soothing me. When I became coherent after a few minutes he asked, “Now, what’s really the problem?”

I sniffed and snorted before resting my head on his shoulder, “Nothing,” I replied.

“Come off it, woman, I know you well enough to know something isn’t right, you don’t usually fly into tantrum after a bit of baby sick, so what’s bugging you?”

“I don’t know–nothing and everything.”

“Like what?”

“This conference, Danny playing at girldom, the trip to Stanebury–just life in general.”

“D’you want me to cancel the holiday?”

“You can’t.”

“Of course I can.”

“The children are looking forward to it.”

“So, they’ll have to learn to live with bigger disappointments than that.”

“No–you take them, I’ll come up as soon as the conference is over.”

“What about the ball, who’s going to get them ready?”

“Take Phoebe with you, she’ll sort out the girls.”

“And Danni and hi–er little friend.”

“Phoebe can sort them out too, just give her enough time to do it.”

“And you’ll be up for the barn dance?”

“Yes, the conference only lasts about three days.”

“Good. Now what about Danny playing at girldom? What did you mean by that?”

“What I said, I don’t think he’s transgendered–unless he likes the clothes.”

“I like the clothes you wear–on you.”

“For a moment you had me worried, Simon.”

He chuckled mischievously. “Anything else worrying you?”

“We hardly discussed Danny did we?”

“I’m out of my depth on that one. If you doubt his transgender whatever, then I believe you, but how do we prove it one way or the other? Call Stephanie?”

“I think she’s as easily led as the rest of us unless she does a lot of observation.”

“I could invite her up to Stanebury.”

“Have you seen what she charges for a visit in Portsmouth?”

“I thought she’s never charged us?”

“She hasn’t yet, if she bills us for the lot, you might have to sell Stanebury to pay it.”

“Oh, so who else?”

“I think we have to suck it and see.”

“What does that mean?”

“We wait, if I’m right he’ll get fed up after a week or so.”

“What if he’s up in Scotland with no boy clothes?”

“He’ll have to make do with girl stuff, won’t he?”

“Make sure you tell him then.”

“Actually, I wasn’t thinking of telling him at all.”

“What’s to stop him packing some himself?”

“Simon, he’s thirteen, you’re thirty five and you don’t pack your own case.”

“So you do it?”

“Who else?”

“Okay, I get the message–I could do my own, you know, I used to pack my own kitbag when I was in the scouts.”

“To go to camp?”

“Yeah. Did they do it in the guides?”

“How would I know, I failed the medical for the scouts, I’d never have got in the guides. Actually, that’s not quite right, Siá¢n took me along one night while I was doing Macbeth and they accepted me as just another girl.”

“See, you were a guide.”

“For one night, and we couldn’t stop laughing about it afterwards. We fooled them all.”

“Cathy, you’re female, it was yourself you fooled–they just accepted what they saw, like I did.”

“Oh,” I didn’t know what else to say so I kept quiet.”

“Feel better?”

“Yes thank you.” We hugged and I kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you, darling.”

“C’mon, get a top on.”

I pulled on a tee shirt and dropped the dirty bra into the laundry hamper. By the time we got down again, the table was clear and Stella was sitting nursing the baby. “Better?”

“Yes thanks.”

“She’s just gone off, here.” She passed me the sleeping infant.

“How could her mother kill herself?” asked Simon standing alongside me touching her tiny fingers.

“I don’t know–but then I don’t know what was in her mind at the time. Post natal depression is poorly understood and just remember what Stella went through with it?”

“And Neal has it too, has he?”

“No, Simon, only women get it, he’s got depression following bereavement.”

“How’s he doing?”

“You’ll have to ask Phoebe, she’s the one who rings him every week.”

“Talk of the devil,” said Simon and I turned round to see Phoebe walk into the kitchen.

“What?” she said as we both looked at her.

“How’s Neal?” asked Simon.

“Up and down. One day he’s good and another he’s back down in the depths.”

“Any sign of him coming home?” continued Si.

“Not to take charge of this,” she said stroking the baby’s cheek. “I don’t honestly know if he ever will.” I had begun to suspect as much myself.

“This is only a temporary arrangement,” Simon said, I thought unnecessarily.

“Okay, what d’you want me to do–leave college to become a full time foster parent?”

“Okay both of you, stop this. I told Neal I’d take tiny wee here for as long as he took to recover. I’m a woman of my word in case you hadn’t noticed.”

“Thanks, Mummy.” Phoebe gave me a peck on the cheek.

“Make some tea, darling, will you?”

“Of course, Daddy?”

“Yeah why not?” he sat at the table.

“Phoebe, I want you to go to Scotland with Daddy and the others, he’s going to need all the help he can get especially with Danni and Pia.”

She looked at me for a moment, saw me with the baby, her niece, and nodded. “Okay, but we need to tell Julie, she was expecting me at the salon.”

“I’ll do that,” Simon got up and went straight to see Julie, he can be quite direct when the mood takes him.

“How much did that cost?” I asked when he returned for his cuppa.

“I beg your pardon–she’s my daughter.”

“I know–so how much?”

“Two hundred a week.”

That’s our Julie, never wastes any opportunity.