The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2390 by Angharad Copyright© 2014 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

“What is this?” demanded Julie walking in from work and slamming the Echo down on the table.

“If I remember correctly, it’s a tabloid rag masquerading as a newspaper, why?” I knew what she was on about.

“You, sorting out that dirtbag,” she pointed to the photo on the front page.

I pretended to glance at it, “Could be anybody.”

“Not with a Louis Vuitton bag.”

“Could be, there’s plenty of money round Portsmouth.”

“Yeah, most of it in this house.”

I shrugged and went to walk away.

“This is you, isn’t it?”

“How would I know?”

“I think you’d remember fighting with Rashid.”

“Nah, I do that every day, fight my way through the traffic in the Rashid hour.”

She looked at me for a moment, “You’re nuts.”

“So?”

“Thank you.”

“What for?”

“Doing what I couldn’t.”
“Your bruises have nearly gone.”

“Don’t change the subject.”

“I haven’t, I simply said your bruises look much better. What did your clients say?”

“I told them I walked into a door and they just told me to look where I’m going.”

“You never did tell me what happened.”

“I’ll tell you if you tell me,” she challenged.

“You first,” I threw back at her.

“Simple, he wanted sex an’ I didn’t. He insisted, I said no so he hit me.”

“Several times.”

“Yeah, probably.” She paused and blushed, sniffed back a tear so I felt compelled to hug her. “Thanks, Mum, for being there.”

“My pleasure.”

“Will I ever find a nice man?”

“I did, so you should be able to, pretty girl like you.”

“Yeah, but you’re beautiful, Mummy.”

“The cat thinks so, but only when she wants to be fed.”

She hugged me again, “Why can’t you accept you’re one very good looking woman?”

“Because I don’t particularly think I am.”

“You must be the only one then.”

“I’d much rather see the beauty of my children.”

“None of us can raise a candle to you.”

“Well, missy, I happen to think you are all infinitely beautiful.”

“’Cos you’re our mum.”

“That might have something to do with it.”

“Weren’t you frightened?”

“Of being your mum? I was terrified.”

She chuckled, “No, silly, of having a lunatic pull a knife on you?”

“Didn’t have time.”

“So it was you?”

“On Portsdown hill, yeah, I got stabbed, remember?”

“No, in Asda.”

“No, I was on a bike.”

“Saturday—you, in the Echo.”

“If you’re changing before dinner, you’d better hurry.”

“That’s why the police were here on Saturday, wasn’t it?”

“It was because they wanted a statement but you wouldn’t give one.”

“I was terrified. He pulled the knife on me when I said no. I thought he was going to cut me, instead he hit me across the face.”

“My poor darling,” I pulled her into another hug and this time she burst into tears.

“It was horrible, Mummy, I really thought he was going to cut or stab me.”

“I don’t think he’ll be able to do that to anyone for some time.”

“I hope so, he was like a wild animal—so different to the man who asked me out.”

“It’s over now, sweetheart.”

“I hate him.”

“Save your energy, he isn’t worth it.” I held her for a few more minutes before the gong chimed. “Go and sort your face,” I pushed her towards the stairs. On one level I felt glad I’d exacted a sort of revenge for the old lady who was soaked by him as well as for Julie. He deserved everything he got.

My mother would have been on about turning the other cheek while screaming for revenge. Possibly where I get my dichotomy, part of me wants to rise above such things another wants to exact revenge. Oh well, he started it in front of plenty of witnesses, so my coldly taken dish was rather satisfying.

“What’s all this?” asked Si picking up the Echo. “This you?” Why do we leave verbs out of sentences? According to my old English teacher, it can’t be a sentence without a verb. Am I bovvered?

“C’mon, Mummy,” called Trish grabbing my hand to go into dinner. Julie appeared a few moments later.

Sitting across the table Simon waved the Echo, “Well?” he demanded.

“Well what?”

“Is this you?”

“No, it’s the Echo—duh.”

“Stop being evasive, did you help catch this young thug?”

“I might have done.”

“I thought you were going to stop all this crime fighting stuff?”

“It wasn’t deliberate. I was in the cat food aisle and he came charging at me waving a knife.”

“Why?”

“How do I know?”

“Why didn’t you just get out of the way?”

“My legs wouldn’t move.”

He gave me a very old fashioned look, “Oh yeah.”

“It’s true, I was stuck there watching him get closer and then I thought I recognised him.”

“Just like that?”

“Yes, it wasn’t prearranged or anything, pure coincidence.”

Julie nearly fell off her seat laughing which set Stella off while Sammi and I looked at each other in astonishment. “Pure—ha ha,” croaked Stella, unable to decide whether to laugh or cough.

“If I understood why you’re laughing at my wife, I’d probably feel obliged to do something,” Simon said with a sense of being irked in the tone.

“Pure,” reiterated Stella laughing like a drain.

“I’ll have you know my wife is as pure as the driven snow.”

Simon’s attempted defence of me, whilst commendable was actually making things worse. I signalled him to abandon his attempt as even the younger girls were laughing, presumably at Stella, who was now weeping with laughter.

“I think you’ll find it should be puella not puer.” That was about the limit of my Latin.

“What?” gasped Stella, so I repeated it.

“Oh yes, trust you to spoil it,” she complained.

“Sorry?”

“Well, only you and Si did Latin.”

“I’d have thought you would have too.”

“Nah, dropped it for conversational froglaise.”

This had the young uns giggling and repeating, ‘frog’s legs’.

After giving them a moment or two to control themselves Simon banged on the table. “You’re all laughing at the most wonderful person in this house, who I think deserves your admiration not scorn. If I understand this correctly, on Saturday, the same bumpkin who beat up your sister attempted to rob an old lady in Asda. It just happened your mother was there as well and they met while he was attempting to escape his pursuers. He drew a large knife and slashed at your mother, who instead of running away screeching, faced him and disarmed him. I think she deserves your approbation rather than your ridicule.”

“Wossat mean, Daddy, approwotsit?”

“Acclaim, praise.”

“Absolutely,” said Danni.

“Love you, Mummy,” called Livvie.

“I wuv you too, Mummy.”

“Yeah,” called Cate and pulled at my clothes until I lifted her up onto my lap. “Wuvs you, Mummy,” she said and wiped her nose in my top. Life just doesn’t get any better than that, does it?