The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2335 by Angharad Copyright© 2014 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

I spent an uncomfortable night feeling like I’d betrayed Stella. In some ways I suppose I had. I was like a stool pigeon, feeding back information to the police state, or in this case, Henry. Shouldn’t she be allowed to make her own mistakes? If that was all it was, yes: but if it’s a set up, she’s being steered into something she’ll regret. Given the status of the family, she could unwittingly cause ructions for loads of people, the family, shareholders and other investors—who knows where that could end. There could be a run on the pound or in my stocking and that could lead to all sorts of things.

I needed Jim to find out who this guy was and what he was after. I mean why did they talk about me on their first date? Surely, I couldn’t be the real target—nah, that’s just overblown egotism. Could I be seen as the major threat to their scheme? More likely, so he tells Stella to avoid me. Has possibilities, but is she that dumb? Looks like it.

At breakfast, the glee she’d shown the previous evening had vanished. “So has he got you a ring then?” I asked.

“What for?” she retorted.

“You said last night you were engaged.”

“Yeah by the NHS, speaking of which, I need to get to work.” She grabbed Pud and Fiona and went off to her consulting room. It’s not actually hers but obviously the one she uses which is attached to the urology clinic. The girls don’t go to help her, but to a crèche in the hospital, hopefully preparing them for school when they come to that age. I assumed her playing down the engagement was because he told her to, especially to me. I know her better than anyone else, and being a woman, spot things men miss; though it’s also possible they’d spot things I’d miss, but not much.

Jim put a trace on her mobile which showed she called him twice during the morning and he called her once. His mobile number was on a disposable phone, hardly likely for a Series five driver, but then we’d established the car was a rented one. So, who was this guy?

While she was at work, Jim called, he thought he had a make on the guy calling himself Roger Mitchell, he wasn’t MI5 or 6 but Special Branch. We were under suspicion by the looks of things but what for? I was pretty sure it wasn’t for my occasional email to the Guardian decrying the imbalance between men’s and women’s sport. Why were they asking about me? Everything I do is in the public domain, so unless they suspected I was doing something other than I declared, they’d have little reason for accepting their kind offer.

I tried to think what I’d said but my memory failed more than usual. Unfortunately, I’m not such an egotist that I record everything I’d said or wrote about work or other folks so I have no idea what they’re looking for, I mean I don’t remember doing anything which could be construed as terrorist. In fact, I like to think of myself as patriotic insofar as supporting things British are concerned, like Cav or Wiggo or even adopted Brits like Froome or Mo Farah. With regard to supporting the government—that’s not so easy, as I disagree fundamentally with most of the things they’ve done from privatising the NHS to slashing benefits probably so they can cut taxes for the super rich. I know, I’m married to him, but that doesn’t mean I support it. As for pulling out of the EU, that is pure madness, the same would be for Scotland to vote for independence—turkeys voting for Christmas; besides, I’m old enough to remember that the only reason Tony Blair’s government legalised gender reassignment was because the European Court told him to. I’m also of the opinion that Ukip is a party for Sun readers who can’t manage words longer than about four letters.

I’m obviously a threat to the safety of the country, wanting to prosecute farmers who have warnings about a bit of land being awarded SSSI status and who destroy it before it can be scheduled. I’d also ban hunting with hounds permanently and ban guns of all descriptions—this after banning motor vehicles, save public transport, in town centres, promoting bicycles and cycling by cutting VAT on all things bicycle, increase vehicle excise duty but make all public transport free. Only the most dedicated couch potato would cling to their car after all that.

Naturally, I’d make universities free again or give grants to students again and reverse the cuts in the NHS and the armed services. How would I save money, cut subsidies to MPs and also their expenses, renationalise the utilities so the money they made went to the country not shareholders, and only subsidise farmers for conservation works. I’d also ask some very searching questions about the EU and cut their salaries and expenses and increase taxes on the very rich, especially bonuses. See, I’m a Guardian reader not a subversive, or should that be a subversive Guardian reader?

So, Mitchell or whatever his name is, is an undercover cop, but why have they targeted Stella or this family. I asked Jim to inform Henry, see what influence he had with the boys in blue at that level. I’m sure he’d be quite concerned as I am, this looks like a deep undercover job, which I thought they weren’t supposed to be doing any more—but why us?

Henry sent me a text to meet him at Fleet services. It took some organising but I did so though I had to take Cate and Lizzie with me. He wandered over to my car and told me to drive back out onto the motorway. Essentially what we did was go round in a big circle pulling back into the services about half an hour later. It would have been very difficult for anyone to over hear what we were saying and he ‘swept’ the car before we left to prove there were no bugs on or in it other than those on the windscreen.

“What is going on, Henry?”

“I don’t know, Cathy, but whatever it is, it’s quite sinister.”

“Is anyone at physical risk?”

“Stella is most at risk, she’s highly vulnerable.”

“Could it be that this guy genuinely likes her and just coincidentally works for Special Branch?”

“So why doesn’t he tell her his real name?”

“Oh, do I want to know this?”

“Yes you do, your vigilance brought it to light. It would seem somewhere in the political elite we have enemies who are preparing to march against us.”

“That sounds more like Russia or even the US where they employ dirty tricks people, not downtown Belgravia.”

He roared with laughter, “Cathy, you are such a delight to be with, but I have to go. Keep me informed if you can, but don’t do anything which endangers you or the kids. I’ll try and keep you out of the firing line when we start fighting back.”

“Is that literal fighting or just dirty tricks?”

“Mainly destroying reputations, but it could get quite bloody.”

“I’ll keep well out of the way, do try to protect Simon, won’t you?”

“If I can, dear lady.” I pecked him on the cheek and he kissed both babies before leaving. He was followed by a large black Lexus, which I’m sure he spotted.