The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2696 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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Monday drifted into Tuesday and I wondered if we’d have a delivery. I checked with the shop who’d sold me the bike and discovered it was en route and due to be delivered today—probably in the morning.

I asked Jacquie if she fancied taking the girls swimming at the hotel and at first hesitant she sensed I had a reason for being rid of them for an hour or two and acquiesced. I called the hotel to check there would be lifeguards on duty and was assured there would be and could they send the minibus? I told them they could, I also made sure Jacquie had enough to buy them lunch if I needed more time—if so I’d text her.

Once I mentioned swimming they all rushed off to change including Hannah. I almost kept Danni back to help me with the new bike if it arrived but decided as she was the only one with a certificate in saving someone from drowning, it might be better to let them go. Stella was working so it was only my two little ones I had to worry about and when Cate asked to go with the others and Danni said she’d look after her, I let her go with them, changing her quickly as the minibus arrived.

It was only then they realised I wasn’t going and Trish asked out loud what the others were thinking. “Why aren’t you coming, Mummy?”

“I’ve got work to do for the university.”

“Can’t you do it later?”

“No but I can cancel your swim instead if you want sit and watch me?”

“Uh no, we just thought you might like to swim, too.”

“I’m too busy, so off you go.”

They had just boarded the bus when the delivery van arrived and I waved the bus away before the man could open the back of his van. It was Yodel, they sponsor the Tour of Britain, so I told him to hang on a second and got the keys to the bike shed.

For those who’ve never bought a new bike, they arrive in a box almost big enough to get a car in—a small car. I let him struggle with the box as I opened up the shed and he gasped. “Cor, Missus, your ’ubby into biking, then?”

“Uh no, this is my workshop when I’m not bricklaying or alligator wrestling.” Okay, the latter was a bit OTT but he probably will never see me again, so what? He just roared with laughter and didn’t believe me.

“Hey, you’re the dormouse woman, in’t ya?”

Trish had a long time ago put up one of the bank posters in my workshop, she said so I could see Spike regularly. “Yeah, I am—okay it’s dormouse wrestling I do but in the dark you could mistake one for an alligator.” He nearly fell over laughing but dumped the box with the bike in the shed. Usually if you want to get rid of these guys who usually have a tight delivery schedule you offer them a cuppa and they decline and go off to their next drop. Of course our laughing van driver said yes. Serve me right I suppose. I got Lorraine who was on housekeeping duties to make us some coffee while I went back to the shed to check the bike was in good condition. I was half way through slicing through the cardboard when the driver reappeared, “Got ya coffee, an’ I ’pologise, didn’t know it was Lady Cameron, an’ your ’elp said it was you what plays wiv bikes.”

I accepted his apology and his help, I held the box while he lifted the bike out. It was silver and green and in perfect condition. While he watched I attached the pedals, straightened the handlebars and checked over the brakes—the bike shop did some of the basic assembly but I always check—I had the handlebars of a bike come loose in my hand that had been assembled by a bike shop as a new bike. It was nearly my last ride.

“Ya know ya way round a bike, like, don’cha?”

“My father taught me when I was a girl,” literally it was a lie but my birth certificate said girl, so I must have been one—who am I to challenge the Registrar General?

“Ya done that like a professional.”

“I’ve been building bikes since I was about thirteen.”

“Cor, you was an unusual girl, like?”

“My dad wanted a son, he got me, I tried to please him, in the end it annoyed him because I could do it faster and better than him, then he realised he could hand his repairs over to me—perhaps he had the last laugh,” I sort of embroidered on the truth a little.

“Oops, gotta go. In’t that a bit small for ya?”

“It’s for one of my daughters, we’re starting a racing team—Flying Dormice.”

“Wow, I’ll keep an eye open for results.” Why do they always call you on the one fib they can check? Now I’ll have to knit us some jerseys or pay someone else to.

White van man drove off waving while I finished the bike. It was the same size as Trish’s which was red and white. Hannah now had a bike. I locked the shed and texted Jacquie she could bring ’em home for lunch. David had just arrived and he whacked half a bag of large potatoes in the oven and got a large bag of grated cheese out of the storage fridge—our house is like a small restaurant, we’ve even got one or two commercial firms supplying us with bulk foods such as catering tins of baked beans and frozen chips.

About an hour later the sound of a diesel engine arrived in the drive, the minbus was back and they all looked tired but happy after their morning swim. I told them it was cheesy jackets for lunch and as it was a better day than Monday had been, if anyone had some spare energy, we could do a bike ride an hour or so after we ate. Of course they all wanted to though Hannah was more reticent than the others, presumably remembering her promise to ride the mountain bike. I was really looking forward to seeing her face when I pulled the new bike out of the shed—it was too big for a hat oh and Yodel man, took the remains of the box with him.

We chomped our way through the cheesy spud and it was just one o’clock. I told them at two, those who wanted to ride would get changed and we’d go off on the bikes. Then to irritate them I told them to go and read for an hour. Instead they got my DVD of TdF winners and went off to watch it. I was chatting with Jacquie and David when Trish and Hannah came out holding hands.

“’Cos we’re sorta sisters, we decided I’d ride the racer out to where we turn round and Han can ride it back.”

“What are you gonna do, Trish, walk home?” teased David.

“No, I’ll ride the old mountain bike.”

It’s at times like these I don’t know whether to hug them or murder them for nearly spoiling my cleverness.