The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2409 by Angharad Copyright© 2014 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

I sent Simon a text to let him know what had happened. He called back about half an hour later. “Sorry to hear the news though not entirely surprised,” he said adding, “I suppose you’ll want to keep the baby?”

“Not without your agreement.”

There was a pause. “This has to be the last, stick to kittens in future.” Just then there was an almighty crash and Bramble went scuttling under the sofa in my study. “What was that?” asked my husband.

“The crash you mean?”

“Yes—are you all right?”

“Fine. That noise was our kitten, though quite what it was I have yet to discover.”

“Look, have as many babies as you like but no more kittens, okay?”

“I think this baby will be the last—I’ve got the set now.”

“Eh?”

“Thank you, darling.” I rang off before he could change his mind or suggest I show my gratitude in a more tangible form, and I don’t think he meant a thank you card. I spoke to our solicitor, the one who dealt with family matters, explained the situation and that I wanted to go for long term fostering or adoption. I wanted to act before social services did, though I suspect knowing their director meant I’d probably be left alone. Our legal eagle thought that as it was a private arrangement, we’d not need to do anything, and besides, Phoebe was his next of kin, so we could count on her supporting our continued support of her niece. She was in no place to do it herself and had already made her wishes known.

In some ways, nothing had changed except we now knew that Neal would never be calling to repossess his most precious possession. That would make planning easier to some extent, it would now become long term.

I’d left Phoebe sleeping and was doing some emails for the department that Delia had passed on to me, when Phoebe appeared at my side. “D’you think it would be okay if I went to the salon?”

“Is that what you’d like to do?”

“I think so.”

“Okay, but on the understanding that if it gets too much for you, you call me and I’ll come and get you.”

“I’ll be all right, I ’spect.”

“I expect you will be, too; but just in case you aren’t, you call me; d’you hear?”

“Yes, Mummy,” she sighed and rolled her eyes then sniggered. When I made to rise from my desk she dashed off up to her room to dress. I did get up and went to the kitchen to ask David to prepare some packed lunches for the three girls at the salon. Then, I called Julie but ended up speaking to Danni and told her I was bringing Phoebe in to work plus some lunch for all of them. At mention of food, she squealed and told me I was ‘brill’.

The crash, that even Simon had heard turned out to be the dinner gong with which Kiki had collided while chasing Bramble, who’d run off with the pig’s ear she was eating. Apparently, she’d stopped to lick up some crumbs and the kitten had shot by and snatched the dog’s treat practically from under her nose. The feline filcher had then dropped said snack when pursuing canine encountered gong in hall. David had witnessed the theft and subsequent chase plus collision. He’d then checked the dog for brain damage—difficult, she doesn’t appear to have one—and righted the dinner gong. Kiki eventually found her piece of purloined piggy-wig and our feline felon, went up to sleep on Trish’s bed, with Trish who was reading.

By the time Phoebe had dressed and slapped on some makeup—no self respecting teen ever goes out without it, girls that is—David had made them up some lunches which I carried to the car before taking them and Phoebe to the salon.

As Danni had been suspended for fighting she didn’t have to attend footie training, so I agreed to go and collect her at five, when the salon closed. Then it was back home for lunch and to amuse the other children for the afternoon. We went swimming at the hotel and yes, even I got wet—had a swim. I wore a one piece swim suit and swam a few lengths while the others messed about mainly in the shallow end. Stella came as well, having a day off work—the room she uses was being decontaminated or something—so we brought Jacquie and the little ones as well.

After my swim, I took Lizzie in the pool with me and she enjoyed herself for several minutes judging by the squeals and kicks she made. Ten minutes later I took her out and changed her just in time as she pooed her pants. She then sat and watched as I got dressed and then we went up to the gallery to watch the others. At four I called them to change, a stipulation I’d made before we went, and they trooped out, albeit reluctantly. Stella had driven the Mondeo and filled it with children, thus leaving me room to collect Danni and if necessary, Phoebe. In the end it was just, Danni as Pheebs was coming home with Julie.

“Enjoy yourself?” I enquired of my adolescent daughter.

“Yeah, was okay.”

“We went swimming,” declared Livvie.

“At the hotel?”

“Yeah, an’ Auntie Stella came too, so we could take the littlies.”

“Damn,” said Danni and they all roared with laughter.

“You shoulda seen Lizzie, she was so excited.”

“She didn’t wee, did she?” Danni has helped me bathe her.

“Not as far as I know,” I replied with feigned innocence. I hadn’t actually seen her but it was more than likely.

“Ugh,” offered Trish, “Have I been swimming in Lizzie wee?” That precipitated a whole pile of groans and jokes, including, “I won’t swim in the sea because fish have been pooing in it.”

“Not just fish, kiddo,” I informed her.

“What else—you mean seals an’ things?”

“They too, but I meant people.”

“What they poo in the sea—dirty monkeys.”

“Uh worse than that, most sewage eventually finds itself piped out to sea.”

“What—like from home?”

“Yes. It goes to treatment plants first but is eventually piped out to sea.”

“Yuck, I’m never going swimming in the sea again.”

“Where did you think it went?” I challenged.

“How do I know, I pull the flush and it disappears.”

“Well now you know, don’t you?”

“Too much information, Mummy,” they all squeaked at me. Some days I just can’t win with this lot, I really can’t.