The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2592 by Angharad Copyright© 2015 Angharad

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This is a work of fiction any mention of real people, places or institutions is purely coincidental and does not imply that they are as suggested in the story.
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I was so relieved when Simon And Sammi returned home. They couldn’t seem to understand my paranoia. I asked James to explain. He did in graphic detail and I watched the colour drain from Sammi’s face except where she was wearing blusher. At one point I thought she was going to be ill but she regained her composure after a minute or so.

“But why would anyone want to hurt me, Mummy?” she sounded very worried.

“You’re the main person protecting them from computer attack. I presume they know who you are...”

“They probably know when you change your knickers, Sammi,” added James trying to lighten things up but having the exact opposite effect.

“But that’s no reason to kill me, and the thought that they know so much about me—I suppose they’ll know of my previous life...”

“Not sure,” suggested James, “their main interest is in your recent life. They know what you look like, when you travel and what you do. Effectively, if they want to kill you, your clockwork schedule makes it very easy.”

“So, should I drive to work—you know, instead of taking the train?”

“Even easier to take out a car, though a bit messier and less guaranteed.”

“I’m going to change,” she said and ran upstairs. I ran after her. I found her sitting on the chair in her room weeping and holding her teddy bear. “It’s not fair, just when I’m really enjoying myself, just when I think life is really good—some bastard comes along and spoils it.”

I opened my arms and she fell into them, sobbing on my shoulder. “It’s not fair.”

“I know, darling,” I cooed rubbing her arms.

“It’s not bloody fair. First I have the wrong body and it was only meeting you and the girls which showed me I could sort that out, but at times I felt like I was a common criminal in case anyone who knew me before found out and blabbed. Now this. I feel totally and utterly fed up. Maybe it would be better if they did kill me, at least I’d be freed from this constant fuck up.”

“How d’you think we’d feel—me, Daddy, your sisters—how would we feel if you were killed?”

“Would it matter? I haven’t been here as long as the others, so bonds with me would be less strong—you’d all get over it.”

“So calling me, Mummy, is false is it?”

“No, I like to think of you as my adoptive mother because you’ve helped me become a woman, you believed in me when others wouldn’t, you got Daddy to get me in at the bank—I’d be dead or in a mental hospital if it weren’t for you and Daddy and the girls.”

“So the bonds would be less strong, would they?”

“No, I guess not. You and Daddy love us all, don’t you?”

“You have to ask?”

“Not really—but I feel so scared.”

“If you weren’t I’d feel more concern. These are dangerous times, kiddo. Speak with James, get some advice on varying things so you’re less predictable, work from home now and again. I’m sure you’ll be perfectly safe.”

“I wish I had your confidence, Mummy, nothing seems to ruffle you, does it?”

“Am I confident or merely not understanding the seriousness of the situation?”

“You’re so funny, Mummy.”

“If you’re going to change, you’d better hurry.” As I spoke so David banged the gong for dinner.

“I don’t feel very hungry, Mummy.”

“Change and come and have something to eat, you need to keep your strength up.” What a hackneyed phrase that was, keep your strength up: we say it whenever someone doesn’t want to eat for whatever reason, appropriate or not. Some days I wondered if everything I said was some sort of cliché.

“All right, thanks Mummy, I do appreciate you and Daddy, an’ what you do for us.”

“I know, sweetheart, and we both enjoy doing it for you because we love you. Right, now you know the risks you can begin to reduce them. Hurry now, let’s not keep David waiting.”

We hugged and she pecked me on the cheek. I went downstairs as they were waiting for us. I told everyone to carry on as Sammi had felt unwell but had recovered. James gave me a very knowing look. She came down a few minutes later and everyone asked how she felt. She gave a strange look and settled down at the table where she actually ate a reasonable meal.

After dinner, while Helen, Jacquie and I cleared up she and Simon went into a huddle with James, which I presumed was about their safety. I wondered if Jaguar made bullet proof cars.

The phone rang just as we’d finished tidying up the kitchen, almost as if someone heard or saw us finishing. It was Edward, he of MI5.

“Were you going to tell us eventually about the gunfight at the OK corall?”

“I didn’t think your name was Clanton, Edward.”

“Very good, Lady C, your general knowledge does you proud.”

“The real history or the Hollywood version?”

“Does it matter?”

“For one who thrives on spreading disinformation, probably not; for the rest of us possibly.”

“Did you enjoy Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid?”

“As told by Newman and Redford?”

“But of course, who else?”

“I saw a programme about the real outlaws and apart from failing to meet the physical attributes of two of the most beautiful men in movie history, they were disappointing, full stop.”

“So you can differentiate between fact and fiction?”

“If I couldn’t, I’d waste much of my time looking for dormice in teapots, wouldn’t I?”

“Possibly. I do like chatting with you Lady Cameron, even if you are somewhat predictable.”

“Oh am I, now? So what will I do next?”

I was pretending to do something outrageous which he’d need to be able to see to comment on. If he didn’t, he’d be getting a different impression. I started snipping scissors just to distract any microphones.

“Put the scissors down, Cathy and the knife.” He could see me. The bastard had placed a camera in my house somewhere. For a moment I wondered if that was more annoying than trigger happy Russians. I couldn’t decide.

He told me they knew of the shooting of the foreign agent and advised me not to hold back anything like that again. I felt my face blushing but was it with embarrassment or irritation.

Eventually he went leaving me feeling like a chastised schoolgirl. Somehow, I didn’t think I’d ever have anything useful to say to them.