The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2412 by Angharad Copyright© 2014 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

Episode 201 dozen.

Somehow I survived more or less sane after organizing four different diversions for the girls. To please Danni we did a bike ride. As a bikeophile that should have pleased me but being in charge of half a dozen kids on bikes all wanting to ride somewhere different and at different speeds, made me wish I’d said no.

Then we went to the library. It was filled with other people’s brats arguing with gymslip mothers about whose turn it was to use facebook. If I’d made anything like as much noise when I was a kid, I’d have been turfed out on my ear by the librarian. Nowadays, no one takes any notice of ill-manners or loutish behavior by children or young adults. If you say anything, the parents demonstrate where their children’s bad behavior and poor vocabulary originates. It seems they’re protective of their children with regards to outside influences but not enough to rear them as human beings, presumably because it wasn’t shown to them how to do it by their parents. We now have as many as three or four generations of people who are clueless about parenting and sadly they occur in significant numbers all over the country.

I had a sudden flashback to a memory that hadn’t crossed my mind since it happened. I was coming out of the library in boy mode, I was twelve and had just started growing my hair, when some yobbo a bit bigger than me, grabbed and tried to mug me. I was very frightened but refused to hand over my money which I had in a small purse Siân had given me.

The yob flung me against a wall and pulled out a knife. “Okay, girly boy, hand over your money or I’m gonna spoil your looks.” There was no one around there never is when you need them, especially coppers.

I was on the verge of wetting myself when my fear began to change to anger. He’d picked on me because I was an easy target—or so he thought. I was going to change his mind. I pretended I was trembling with fear and fumbled handing him the money, my purse falling to the floor. Still waving the knife he went to pick it up and I swung the bag of books I had at his face. It made heavy contact and stunned him, whereupon I knocked the knife from his hand, kicked him hard in his family jewels and hit him in the face again with the books which broke his nose. He ran off holding his face and I kicked his knife down a nearby drain. I shook with nerves all the way home but was grateful my mum had made me take her canvas shopper with me to carry the books. I still have that little red purse somewhere, the one Siân gave me, it didn’t hold much money but it was a real girl’s purse and I treasured it.

“Wotcha lookin’ at?” barked a young tattooed stick insect.

I turned to walk away.

“Hey you, stuck up bitch, I asked you a question,” she demanded of my back. I chose to ignore her and walked towards where Trish and Livvie were waiting for Danni to join them, I’d got sidetracked looking at the notices and then having my reverie. I was aware of quickening steps behind me and a voice calling, “Watch out she’s got a knife.”

I sidestepped and turned quickly just in time to see her swing a blade at me, this a girl of about fourteen. I held up my Louis Vuitton bag which deflected the blade just in time to see Danni throw herself at the girl. They both went down scrambling on the floor when friends of the attacker arrived and started trying to kick or hurt Danni. I shouted at them to stop but the melee became worse. Jacquie got involved and showed she’d learned a thing or two about self defence in the unit, because she punched two girls in as many seconds and neither wanted a second.

A policeman arrived followed by another and they grabbed Danni and the girl. We all ended up down the nick, where they extracted the knife from my bag. I was apparently accused of staring at her friend. Trish had filmed it because my stare was unusual—I was reliving the past—so we had evidence of the attack, which the police accepted was not my fault.

The girl had a history of petty crime and assaults and we were all astounded at Danni’s courage in intervening so decisively, as well as Jacquie wading in like an enraged prize fighter. Once the police realized who we were, or who I was, they were keen to get rid of us—the pension eater strikes again. We returned to the car and I had to spring for some new tights which Danni holed while rolling about on the floor.

Jacquie let slip she’d been practicing boxing moves on Stella’s punchbag, no wonder she struck so convincingly. It did make me wonder if I had some sort of magnet which attracted trouble, because who else got mugged at the library? It had happened twice now to me.

Jacquie confided that after watching the women’s boxing in the Olympics she fancied having a try herself. She joined a club in Pompey, not far from Fratton and had some lessons, then it was train hard once you’ve got the basics. She was too violent for the gym, so they expelled her and she practiced alone at home. As a technique, it certainly worked though a little crude, I didn’t think I’d be learning it, though the hole in my bag showed how hard the knife had been thrust at me. I stuck some gaffer tape on the inside of the bag, it seemed to do the job of hiding the split from Simon until they showed him the video Trish had taken and the knife was seen sticking out of my bag. Simon demanded to see the evidence upon which he called someone and then disappeared complete with my bag. He returned some two hours later having been to see a friend who repaired the damage. I had to stay awake for a while when we went to bed just in case he required payment in kind, whereupon he fell asleep instead. Seems you can’t rely on anyone these days.