The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2478 by Angharad Copyright© 2014 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

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“You’re such a romantic, Professor Herbert,” I offered embarrassed by his big picture speech.

“Is that a polite way of saying, that was a load of rubbish?”

Part of me wanted to say yes, but that would be discourteous and I’m the wife of an aristocrat, so I can’t. “No of course not, at the same time as you’re entitled to your opinion, I’m entitled to disagree.”

“So you did think it was a load of rubbish?”

“No, simply a different opinion.”

“How very diplomatic—you were a natural for the UN—but that’s water under the bridge.” I felt the way he said it meant it was anything but. “What about this mammal survey thing?

“Yes, I need to speak to your team about some of the recent results we’ve been receiving.”

“Oh, what’s wrong with them.”

“If you’d like to stay for the meeting...”

“I’m sorry, Professor Watts, but I have a previous engagement,” I nodded produced the bottle of single malt and he practically started to purr. He hugged me and pecked me on the cheek. “Yes, ever the diplomat,” he said as he left.

The rest of my stay at Sussex was businesslike. We ironed out the records they’d been submitting and why our system hadn’t be able to record them properly. It was something as simple as moving a dot in one of the codes. I got them to send five records with the corrected code and received a text back from Pompey to say they’d been received and recorded. The mistake was theirs so they agreed to resend everything with the amended code—a few weeks work for some poor key boarder. Then I was invited to lunch at the staff refectory and after a tuna baguette and cup of tea I set off for home.

Although some of the assembled throng had rubbed shoulders with my previous persona either as fellow students or teachers there was no mention of it. They’d either forgotten me or moved on. I wasn’t too worried which applied and to who, I was just glad no one said anything or asked awkward questions because I was tired of answering them. You know the sort, “We had someone here called Watts, funny little guy, least I think it was a guy—no relation is it, he was in to dormice, too.” Last time someone said it, my response was, “Yeah, my sister.”

Brighton is one of those places you either like or loathe, it really is the capital of weird in the south of England, where almost anything goes. It was the site of the first British transpride march earlier this year according to the Guardian, and has been the gay capital of England for a long time. Despite all that and the fact that it’s also a holiday resort with loads of quirky shops, I can’t stand the place, so I avoided the town and drove towards home double quick, stopping briefly at Arundel to place some flowers on Simon’s mum’s grave. I stayed for maybe ten minutes, said I was still in love with Simon and we looked after each other and the dozen children we had. I half expected the ground to move at that point but it didn’t, so I assumed she was okay with our little family. I took a photo of the grave with my flowers on it, said goodbye to a mother in law I never met and drove home.

Stella and Jacquie had done sterling work in keeping the children amused. The girls had apparently been miffed that I was going to Brighton without any of them coming even when they learned it was a business trip. When I told them I’d been in the university most of the day, they sighed and got on with dissecting the cat or whatever it was they were doing.

I changed into my old clothes and after chatting with them all for a few minutes retired to my study with a cuppa. Trish came in, “Mummy?”

“Yes, sweetheart.”

“You know the blue light thingy?”

“What about it?”

“Has it been tested scientifically?”

“In what way?”

“Like killing something and then bringing it back to life.”

“No it hasn’t and don’t you even think about doing any experiments.”

“I just wondered, it would prove it worked, wouldn’t it?”

“I don’t want to prove it works.”

“Why not, it’d be scientific and you’re a scientist.”

“Because I don’t want people knocking on the door asking to see the proof or asking me to cure their ills or resurrect their dead goldfish.”

She smirked, “I’d be happy to do it for them.”

“Well I wouldn’t, so you can drop that idea as well.”

“Why, it would be helping people?”

“Because you’d be overwhelmed in minutes, they’d be queuing up ten deep.”

“No they wouldn’t.” It’s very difficult to argue with someone who argues with certainty every time. I wish I knew half as much as she thought she did. I’d be verging on genius twice over.

“I’m telling you that I think they would.”

“What do you know?” she fired back quickly.

“A great deal more than a nine year old child, who is sailing very close to the breeze.”

“I’m not sailing, have you got Alfhamer’s disease or something?”

“Alf who?” I enquired trying desperately not to laugh.

“Hamer—it’s a disease you get when you’re old. You go bonkers.”

“I think you might mean, Alzheimer’s disease.”

“Yeah—whatever.” She casually strolled out of the room before I could stop her. I let her cheek go this time because I was too tired to say anything. The next time I’d stamp all over her.

I tried to log onto the computer at the university to see if the results were coming in from Sussex but the damn thing wouldn’t let me, kept refusing my password. I’d get Sammi to look at it later if I got a chance.

Daddy knocked and entered asking how I’d got on with Esmond Herbert. I told him fine after I produced the whisky. He said he thought he knew him quite well. I told him he was too clever by far. “I’m a professor, whit wid ye expect?”

“A little bit more modesty.”

“Whit? Dae ye ken whit tae profess means?”

“One definition in Chambers is to claim, often insincerely.”

“Whit?”

“I looked it up the other day.”

He left spitting feathers and I thought I might have handled it a bit better. Simon arrived just before dinner and we hugged. I’d sent him a copy of the photo I’d taken of his mum’s grave.

“Thank you for putting some flowers there and for the photograph.”

I shrugged, “I had the opportunity and took it.”

“I’m glad you did.”

“So am I”

“I suppose I really should try to go more often.”

“I suspect she would understand.”

“Yeah, probably.” We hugged again. “I wuv you, Wady Camwon.”

“I wuv you too.”