The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2476 by Angharad Copyright© 2014 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

---

The rest of that week almost dragged by and except for the paperwork brought to me by Delia for signatures, I was barely allowed to breathe for myself. It was only when the girls came home from school—Si had arranged a taxi for them—that I tried to escape and do things. I was quickly spotted and Jacquie told me off and made me sit down again with my legs and feet raised showing off my elastic stockings. I felt more like ninety than thirty.

Trish and Danielle were practicing their healing powers and I was the patient. The first time did it burn down below, like I stuffed a hot coal somewhere very personal, but afterwards, it felt very different and the numbness I’d felt for ages began to go and my vagina became very sensitive in a rather erogenous way. I had to dilate with an inflatable thing which stretched gently the walls of my sex, and within a couple of days, felt very different, then very sensuous. How I was going to wait another five weeks before I jumped Simon’s bones seemed something of a mystery. I was itching for sex and I’d never felt this randy for so long in my life before. It was a real torment.

In between trying to calm down my libido to enable full healing, I tried to do things around the house only to be told to stop, so I gave Simon an ultimatum, either he let me decide what I did or didn’t do or I’d take myself off to a gym. He gave in, he knows never to bet against me, so I began to do things round the house helping Jacquie as well as dealing with heavier loads of letters and reports.

I did have a chance to read some journals I’d never had time for before and two of my graduate students came over one afternoon and we discussed the dormouse records. After a bad start following the very wet winter, it seemed that populations had stabilised and regrown a little. They would continue fortnightly surveys until frosts happened and from the next one, any dormouse under fifteen grams would be brought back to the university and encouraged to stay awake and feed themselves heavier on dried fruit and nuts. We’d then let them hibernate.

When I’d agreed to take over the department, Tom insisted I keep an eye on the mammal survey as both our reputations were linked to it. I’d only agreed to it when I got my way with still having some input to the dormouse studies as well as the directorship of the woodland centre. I’d hoped that I’d have been able to hide away there and done some research on woodland species, now I temporarily brought its management completely under the university, with a proviso that it could be made independent again with strong links to the university at Portsmouth but enabling us to link up with bigger concerns like Oxbridge or Sussex, my old alma mater.

The dormouse survey developed into a paper we offered to several journals, which as the senior author, I was credited first, then my two grad students. One of the journals asked Professor Herbert to peer review it. As soon as he saw my name with Professor in front of it he emailed Tom and then me. The former to check he was okay and that I hadn’t usurped him, the latter to congratulate me and also to remind me I should have taken the UN job.

When I discussed this with Tom, I asked him if this was to get me sent out to West Africa to count fruit bats. Tom being the venerable soul he is looked at me blankly. “Why?” he asked.

“What is happening out there at the moment?”

“Tae mammals?”

“No in general?”

“Pass,” he said.

“The papers are full of it.”

“Cathy, I dinna hae time tae play games or read newspapers.”

“So you’ve never heard of Ebola?”

“Aye o’ course I hae, it’s tragic oot there.”

“Yeah, well they think fruit bats might be one of the original vectors.”

He nodded and after a pause said, “An’ ye thocht Esmond wud like ye tae catch Ebola.”

“Yeah, removes an embarrassment from besmirching his precious university.”

“Cathy stop this self pity stuff, he’s one o’ yer biggest fans.”

“Sorry, Daddy, but I think he hates me.”

“Weel if he does it’s only because ye refused to gang tae bed wi’ him.”

“Go to bed with him? Yuck, I’d rather sleep with Kiki.”

“Aye, weel, that’s fa ye tae decide, as she snores an’ farts even more than I dae, I’d raither sleep on ma ain.” He paused to let me absorb his wisdom then continued, “Why d’ye think Esmond wud be agin ye?”

“I don’t think he liked me at Sussex because he wasn’t sure what I was.”

“Wait here,” he said and went off to his study returning a few minutes later with a few sheets of paper. “I brocht this hame because ye were gang tae use ma auld office. I’m only showin’ it tae ye thae noo because I need tae disabuse ye aboot Esmond.”

He handed me a letter dated 2007 with Sussex University heading. It was hand written.

‘My dear Tom,

I trust this finds you well. By now you’ll have met one of our recent graduates, Charlie Watts, who got a first. It’s difficult to know if he’s a boy or a girl, but that’s his or her business, but I suspect the latter might one day be more applicable as a pronoun.

Anyway, he or she has a bright future as an ecologist and I suspect you could do far worse than encourage (sod it, I’m going to call Charlie, her) her to do a master’s with you. She’s currently getting very interested in mammals especially dormice and her work looks very promising. I remember us talking about your worries with your own daughter, so I think if ever Charlie gets herself sorted out, your experience and insight could help her tremendously. If I’m wrong, and he’s simply gay, I apologise for reminding you of your tragic loss.

So, if you can, give her a chance to prove herself, she’s developing nicely as a skilful field biologist and capable of running surveys for you on most things but prefers mammals.

Take care my old friend,

Yours,

Esmond.’

I read the letter several times. “I was wrong about him, I’m sorry.”

“It’s him ye need tae apologise tae, no me. He’s no a fool, he kens talent when he sees it and he’s more involved wi’ his staff than ye think. He likes tae pretend he’s a playboy wi’ his sports cars an’ dolly birds, but he’s a very capable professor an’ likes tae see his top students dae weel. It’s probably harder tae get a first under him than frae Oxbridge. Ye did jest that, ye’re special in a’ sorts o’ ways, but ye were a fine student tae, an’ he ken’d it.”

I sat in silence for a while, then said, “I think I need to go and see him and apologise, don’t I?”

“Are ye askin’ or tellin’ me?”

“That’s what I propose to do, what d’you think?”

“I think if ye tak a bottle o’ Laphroaig wi’ ye, he’ll be very pleased tae see ye.”