The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2176 by Angharad Copyright © 2013 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

Julie finished her sewing and folded the overalls and pushed them into a large carrier bag. “I quite enjoyed just sitting here with you like two old spinsters,” she said.

“Eh?”

She sniggered, “Well the way I’m going that what’s going to happen, isn’t it?”

“You could have been an even less happy bachelor.”

“Oh don’t, that really would creep me out–ugh,” she said shivering.

“Perhaps you try too hard.”

“To do what?”

“To attract boys.”

“I haven’t been trying at all recently.”

“It could be that the universe is saying you need to conserve your energy for your business and things will improve when you’re more settled there.”

“You really think so?”

“I don’t know–I’m just trying to rationalise something which possibly isn’t rational.”

“Yeah well, I’m off to bed–I’ve always got my old friend with the batteries.”

“You what?” I started.

“Hee hee, I thought that would get your attention.”

“Are you still dilating?”

“Yeah, though I don’t know what for.”

“Just in case, sweetheart, just in case.”

“Yeah, okay–I’m off to bed.” She stood up and bent over to kiss me on the cheek. “Night night, Mummy.”

“Good night, sweetheart.”

I finished my mending and cleaned up all the little bits of thread that get dropped, made sure I had all the pins safely put in the tin and put everything back in my sewing basket–one of these cantilever things that Tom bought me one Christmas.

Simon was watching the end of some film and I waved him goodnight and went up to bed. I was tired but my mind was playing with imponderables, such as why Julie had no partner, yet I’d almost got one too easily–mind you, I tried to work hard to keep him and I think he did me, too. We made lots of mistakes but at the end of the day we did love each other and that made it all worthwhile. It also formed the basis of the security for the children–no matter what they did or experienced they knew Simon, Tom and I loved them and would help them. It’s what families should do but sadly don’t always.

I drifted off to sleep and at some point was aware of Simon coming to bed but I went off again. I did wake at one point having an awful dream about being in one of these awful refugee camps with my children, trying to keep them safe and fed and there seemed to be little security or food about, just nasty men who leered at us or made indecent propositions to me or the older girls. How people survive in them I had no idea and I decided I’d send a donation to a charity working with these people tomorrow, not so much to salve my conscience but to try and help one or two of them survive a little easier. I went for a wee and considered that my discussion with Julie about the refugees from Syria had possibly provoked such a dream.

A bit later I dreamt that Julie was leaving us to set up her own home with some bloke but I never got to see his face, as if he was hiding from me and for a very good reason–I’d recognise him and know he was no good. I woke myself up feeling very uptight about that. I went for another wee–obviously too much tea. Simon stirred slightly, especially when I put my cold hands on him–I needed to warm them and he’s like a built in radiator, but he didn’t wake and I slept until the alarm told me it was time to rise and shine–yeah, right.

I listened to the news headlines barely aware that Simon had gone already–how does he do that on such little sleep? Then I dragged myself out of bed and into the shower. The water helped to wake me a little and after drying and dressing I roused the girls. I keep wanting to say girls and Danni, but he was still in girl mode and I began to wonder if I’d made some sort of error in my diagnosis–perhaps he was transgender and Danni was the real one.

I was back as Danni’s tutor arrived and we passed the time of day for a moment before she started her lesson with an increasingly happy student. It seemed as Danni learnt to master some of these subjects she enjoyed her learning even more. It made the outrageous fees we were paying almost worth it.

After lunch I listened to more of David’s grumbles about his car and Ingrid’s was also playing up. I said nothing. Stella was moaning about something as well and I was pleased to go and collect the girls to escape the atmosphere in the house. I felt like taking them off somewhere to avoid going home but the rain started again and that really meant we needed to go home.

The girls went up to change and I did the same putting on some old clothes I wandered over to the bike workshop and for an hour I lost myself in starting to slot the spokes in a wheel hub–I was finally building the new wheels I’d ordered the rims and hubs for months before. Because it’s fiddly, you have to concentrate which way the spokes go so I forgot all of the problems which had been whizzing round my head before and really enjoyed it. I thought I’d try and spend an hour each day making my wheels and truing them, then adding the tape and finally a tube and tyre.

Trish came and told me dinner was ready so I tidied up and locked the workshop making sure it was secure. We have two windows in it but they’re both reinforced and the glass is frosted so casual visitors can’t see what’s in there–several thousand pounds worth of bikes and tools, so I take the security very seriously.

David was still whingeing about his car and I got so fed up I asked him why he didn’t get rid of it.

“Can’t afford to, can I?”

“I don’t know, do I?”

“You do now.”

“So what would you like me to do?”

He blushed, “I’ll sort it.”

“Thank you.”

Dinner was quieter, Stella stopped moaning and Julie was happier, she was going to the cinema with a friend from the salon. I asked Si about the cost of a loan for a car.

“What d’you want one for?”

“I don’t, but I thought David might, he’s done nothing but moan about his car for weeks, it gets very wearing after a while.”

“Our terms are very competitive, tell him to let me know how much he wants and I’ll get someone to sort it for him.”

“Thank you, darling.”

“You–um–could show your appreciation a little more–um–phys...”

“Mummy, Lizzie’s cryin’, I think she needs a feed.”

“Bloody children,” muttered Simon under his breath.