The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2180 by Angharad Copyright © 2013 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

“Feel better, now?”

“I felt okay before.”

“But you were crying.”

“Women do when they’re happy, just think about weddings.”

“I thought that was just solidarity with their friend who was marrying some plonker from Essex.”

“You are so funny.”

“Am I and there’s me thinking you married me for my money, it was my sense of humour after all.”

“No, I married you for neither of those things, I married you because you’re the most wonderful man I know.”

“Well seeing as that only extends to Dad, Tom and me, I’m not sure how flattering that actually is.”

“Huh, I know at least four men–so there, mister.”

“Hussy,” he said grabbing me and pulling me to him kissed me.

“Get a room, you two.” Stella strolled past and gave us her blessing as she went.

“What’d she say,” asked Simon.

“I have no idea,” I lied, I’d heard her well enough.

“She’s only jealous anyway,” he concluded and I hissed at him not to suggest such things.

“Why?”

“Because she’ll take it to heart.”

“What? She hasn’t got one unless it beats to the sound of tills ringing up my credit card.”

That was something that rankled me a little, as she had money of her own but preferred to spend Simon’s. I didn’t say anything because I didn’t suffer any hardship from his generosity and sometimes benefited from her cast offs, and although we’re married he doesn’t tell me how to spend my money so I could hardly tell him, could I?

I looked at the clock, it was eleven and I suggested we went to bed, Simon’s eyes widened and he nodded enthusiastically. I meant to sleep, it’s like having a puppy sometimes. In the end he had his wicked way and I slipped out to the bathroom to wash before dashing back to bed–the bathroom was getting cold, as was the weather generally, something to do with the time of the year I believe. Occasionally I envied dormice with their simple but effective way of avoiding winter providing you form enough fat to hibernate, and hope that no predators or flooding get you. It’s perhaps ironic that a creature that spends so much time in the tree canopy hibernates in the ground.

I scrambled back under the duvet only to find my husband had zonked and was snoring and even placing my cold hands and feet against him failed to diminish his version of the Trumpet Voluntary played upon a motorbike exhaust. I took ages to get off to sleep and the last I heard of his cacophony was like standing in the pit lane of a F1 grand prix.

He’d gone from most wonderful man, to randy sod, to noise pollutant in less than an hour. I’d gone from teary utopian to scorched fanny in one easy move–when Simon pulled me on top of him and–you don’t need the gruesome details, do you, but I did get to appreciate friction burns a little more fully. I fell asleep thinking of Sammi and that she had all this to look forward to–perhaps I’ll get her some anti-chaffing powder gel–it helps in preventing saddle sores–dimethicone, wonderful stuff.

The next day after the school run, I phoned the clinic to see how Neal was. The nurse in charge suggested that he seemed up and down and at one point had seemed so distressed he wanted to join Gloria. However, today he seemed more his usual self and they put me through to his room.

“Hello?”

“Hello, Neal, it’s Cathy.”

“Cathy? Cathy who?”

I wondered if he was joking at first. “Cathy Cameron, remember we work together at the university.”

“Do we? Can you tell them I’ll be late in today,” and he put the phone down. I almost gasped at his apparent amnesia. How could he forget me, I’m looking after his child?

I fed the aforementioned offspring and wondered about the wisdom of going to see him. Stella was making some coffee and I talked it over with her. “If you want to go, I’ll come with you, we could take the little ones and if he doesn’t seem well enough we could have a flit round the shops, I quite like Guildford.”

I wondered which she was wishing for, but it might be nice for him to see his daughter though I did wonder about the wisdom of taking Cate with us as she seems to get carsick on anything longer than half an hour. As the weather was dry but with the prospect of a storm brewing for the weekend, I took Lizzie for a bit of air in the pram and Cate came with me–helping me push it before she surrendered and sat on the pram seat chuckling to herself. She’s a delightful child and my only regret is that she lost her natural family, but it’s still too soon to tell her all about them–and I don’t care what the coroner suggested, as far as I’m concerned, her mum died from a broken heart as I suspect I might have as well. Losing Billie made me far more appreciative of her situation. If I’d lost Simon at the same time, I think I might have chosen to exit this place as she did.

The walk helped me dispel my melancholia and I bought some flowers and took them up to Billie’s grave where I spoke to all three of its occupants but especially to Billie. I told them how sad I felt for Maria and her family and also for Neal.

Cate was standing alongside me and while I was telling the grave about my worries for Neal, she was chattering to me, mostly in gibberish, but for one moment she appeared to say, ‘Heal Neal.’ Given that I was talking to them in my mind rather than by mouth, I could only believe that I’d imagined what she’d said.

I looked down at her and she was busy gabbling away nineteen to the dozen when she suddenly looked up at me and quite plainly said, “Heal Neal.” A cold shudder went up and down my spine and I decided we needed to go home. I bid my farewell to the three occupants and left the yellow roses I’d bought in the vase, which I’d washed and refilled with clean water.

We walked home briskly and despite the sunshine I felt cold. As we left the cemetery the temperature seemed to rise and in a hundred or so paces I felt quite warm again. It was a lovely autumn day, the leaves were just turning and were going to be given a huge shake up if the forecast was correct.

I made a mental note to check that there was nothing lying about near the farmhouse which could be lifted by the wind and damage anyone or anything. It doesn’t need much when flying in a storm force wind to take someone’s head off or hurt them badly.

We made it home safely and after lunch, Cate and Lizzie went off for a nap and I went off to my study to do some lesson plans. I was due to start teaching at the end of November and my classes were already oversubscribed having waiting lists should anyone drop out–oh the disadvantages of celebrity.