The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2403 by Angharad Copyright© 2014 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

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Waking to the news on the radio, it was full of a story about an airliner that had been shot down flying over Ukraine with nearly three hundred souls on board, I felt like crying. It was the same Malaysia airways company that had the plane disappear a few months ago, which is still missing. According to the reports it looked as if the rebels in Ukraine had shot it down with a Russian ground to air missile. The more the experts and anyone else who had an opinion, it seemed deliberate butchery on an industrial scale, but why?

It was suggested that some of the passengers were leading experts in studying HIV AIDS, there were eighty children. How could someone do it, shoot down a plane which had absolutely nothing to do with the pathetic squabble between two groups of morons in Ukraine, one of which is being assisted by Russia. I hope the people responsible are found and prosecuted, they’re nothing but murderers. May they never sleep again without seeing the faces of all those they killed baying for justice.

It was quarter past seven and I felt as if I’d woken in some sort of nightmare, where the world was actually a real life computer game played by some psychopathic demi-urge. With difficulty I rolled myself out of bed nearly squashing the cat as I did—when did she come in—must have been when Si got up. My walk to the shower felt like I was carrying the cares and woes of the world, part of me wanted to go back to sleep where I’d discover this was all a bad dream and hadn’t happened, except I knew this was real and dreadful. Malaysia airways must feel someone has it in for them, two disasters in a few short months, some coincidence. At least, I would think this time it would all happen so quickly very few would feel much at all—all those children—how could they?

I cried in the shower for all those mothers and their children and it seemed the catharsis shifted my miseries. I could do nothing for all those who died but I could for my own children. I dressed and roused the girls, they tend to shower together and wash each others’ hair. I went down and sent James a text. He replied a short time later and I would call him when I got back from the school run.

I helped the girls pack up all the goodies David had made for them the night before for their class parties. The boot of the car was full of food—trifles and sausages on sticks, cocktail sausage rolls and sandwiches. We had to make two trips filling the boot and then emptying it at the school and momentarily my mind forgot both my own troubles and those of the crazy planet they call earth.

As if things weren’t bad enough, they’ve discovered bacteria in a river near a sewage farm which have mutated to be unaffected by antibiotics. Providing you don’t get an infection you might actually have a reasonable life span. If you do get an infection, don’t start watching any serials...

Back at home I made some tea and toast and sat and talked with David then remembered I had to call Jim. He picked up on my mood and when I explained he shared my viewpoint about the plane tragedy.

“So what d’you want me to do—find the guy who gave the order or pressed the button?”

“What button?”

“The one that shot down the airliner.”

“Oh.”

“That isn’t the job is it?”

“Nah, nothing that difficult—just stop the Palestinians and Israelis squabbling.”

“Sure, and the afternoon?”

I explained about the situation regarding the dean and also Neal and the theory that he drove Glo to kill herself. “It’s not unknown, you know.”

“I’m sure it isn’t but not in this house on my watch.”

“Okay, okay, keep your wig on.”

“How did you know it was a wig?” It wasn’t but I wanted to make him laugh.

“I didn’t.”

“Yeah, worn it for ages, tend to lose it in swimming pools.”

“Cathy, you’re telling me porkies.”

“Meee? Li’l ol’ me?” I shrieked and nearly deafened him and set off his car alarm.

“So, what d’you want me to do if I find the dean is a paedo?”

“Give your evidence to the police and let’s see him get his just desserts.”

“And Neal?”

“The same.”

“Okay, you want me to focus on one especially?”

“Not really they both disgust me.”

“They’re just a pain to do. I hate going to hospitals.”

“Well that’s where I heard the rumours. I so want him to be acquitted.”

“Even if he’s guilty?”

“No, if he’s guilty, he’s got it coming.”

“What about a paternity test on Lizzie?”

“No, if he’s guilty I want his daughter to have all his worldly goods. It’s the least she deserves.”

“Okay, this is going to take a few days.”

“Let me know what you can when you can.”

“I’ve got a feeling it’s all going to be uncertain or inconclusive.”

“Do your inimitable best.”

“Do my what?”

“You heard me, now get to work.”

“Yes—oh slave driver.”

“Well, professor...” started David.

“It’s only a temporary situation.”

“Isn’t that what they said about the First World War?”

“I can’t see Tom being dean for four years, he’d jack it in before then.”

“Oh wud I?”

Damn, I thought he was in work. “Hi, Daddy, we were just discussing the likelihood of Nibali winning the Tour.”

“Oh aye, an’ his first name’s Tom, is it?”

“No, his name’s Vincenzo or something like that, Tom is TJ van Garderen, I think, why?”

“Ye’re a puir liar, Catherine Cameron.”

I thought I was getting quite good at it. My blush gave me away and he wandered off with a barely disguised smirk.

“I’d better go and check the dormice.”

“Hilary’s there thae day, Professor,” I heard called from down the hall followed by chortling.

“Ye muckle lugged haggis basher,” I called back at him only to be riposted by a loud laugh.

I thought I might go for a ride then on looking outside thunder was rumbling about like Simon’s belly after he’s eaten fried onions. Thinking about it, the last time I rode in a thunderstorm I bumped into Stella. I might not bounce so well next time, so I went back to my study and called Pippa.

“Department of Biological Sciences, Professor Agnew’s secretary, how can I help?”

“It’s me Pippa.”

“Ooh, acting professor Watts or will it be Cameron?”

“Don’t you start, it’d bad enough with his lordship taking the piss.”

“What Simon?”

“No, the original nutty professor.”

“I heard that, ye scunner.”

“Eavesdroppers rarely hear well of themselves,” I called back.

“Sounds like you’re about to start a scrap in a playground,” suggested Pippa.

“That about sums it up nicely. I’ll call by tomorrow and see if you need me to do anything.”

“Feel free but I won’t be here.”

“What?”

“Cathy, it’s Friday today.”

“Sorry, see you next week then.”

“I’m on holiday for two weeks, Cathy, don’t you remember?”

Next week sounded like a bundle of fun.