The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2697 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 patted them both on the shoulder and told them how grown up they were, which appeared to please them, their little chests swelling with pride. I told them I was sure we’d work something out for everyone. They went off to watch the DVD with the rest of the cycling team.

“That’s scuppered your surprise somewhat,” smirked David.

“Not really, it’s just proven that if children can resolve issues like that, adults should be able to as well.”

“You’re joking, adults are far too childish to resolve disputes without loads of noise and bad feelings.”

“The problem is if they resort to the same tactics they had as children when serious injury is unusual, the outcomes are often sadly different.”

“You can say that again.”

“No I can’t I forgot which platitude I chose for the occasion.”

“Number seventy three,” he offered managing to keep a straight face.

“There is a tide in the affairs of man...” I started.

“There is a tide in the affairs of men.
Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune;
Omitted, all the voyage of their life
Is bound in shallows and in miseries.
On such a full sea are we now afloat,
And we must take the current when it serves,
Or lose our ventures.
Julius Caesar Act 4, scene 3, 218–224’
Jacquie had just astonished us by finishing the quote I began as joke, playing foil to David’s clown. Not only had she finished the quote but also gave chapter and verse.

“Dunno why, but I always thought it was Hamlet,” said David.

“It’s Brutus,” said Jacquie, “talking about striking before Octavius could rally his forces to attack them.”

“Can’t say I did Julius Caesar,” said David.

“I did and Antony and Cleopatra,” slipped out of my mouth before I could check it. I blustered on, “It always struck me as ironic that the two men who joined company to deal with the traitors then fought each other over some Egyptian psycho.”

“I thought she was some ravishing beauty who enthralled men with her sexuality?”

“She might have been, David, but she also had her family murdered to reduce the competition.”

“They were playing for high stakes,” he replied.

“Yeah, survival—which could be short lived in those days,” I agreed.

“You said you did Caesar and Antony and Cleo—not on the stage, Mummy?”

My comment had been registered. I blushed, “Uh no, I only read them for English literature, part of the O-level syllabus in those days.”

“Why are you blushing, Mummy, you read the part of Cleo, didn’t you?”

“Does that surprise you?” So they knew—I didn’t get struck by lightning or self combust, why should I feel guilty, I’m female, so was crafty Cleo, we were both trying to survive, only I was prohibited from murdering half the school because they opposed my monarchy.

“As the only girl in a boy’s school, no.” At least she got the answer right.

“So our lady of the house has been a queen twice before,” suggested David.

“Twice? Oh yeah—course, hang on, Lady Macbeth—was she queen?” Jacquie was puzzled.

“As Macbeth was king, she was his queen consort,” I answered.

“Your Majesty,” she replied dropping a curtsey.

“Aye dinna f’get it in future, lassie,” I replied in the soft Lallans I’d used in the Scottish play.

She looked strangely at me for a moment, “That didn’t sound like you.”

“No, it was a stage voice.”

“No, Mummy, it sounded more like an older woman.”

“I am an older woman,” I sighed, I hardly needed reminding.

“No, I meant you sounded like a much older woman.”

“Gee thanks, I’d better get these girls out on their bikes before I forget how ride one, hadn’t I?” I left them chattering with Jacquie agreeing to watch the others while I led the cycling team.

I was just passing the study when my mobile bleeped for a text. Expecting it to be Simon I was surprised to see it was from Dan. Purple Emperor seen in woods on badger carcass. Dan. Now I was all aquiver. All the hours I’d spent in woodlands and I’d only seen the butterfly, a probably endangered species, once, fleetingly. Damn, I’ve got to take these kids out. I sent him back a message to keep it quiet and to try and make sure we didn’t get any collectors. Humans are such stupid creatures; if something rare occurs they kill it to preserve it—it didn’t work for Tutankhamen and it doesn’t for butterflies—a real beauty which grows increasingly rare. It has horrible habits, likes the juices from rotting things or oak sap—butterfly rocket fuel.

“C’mon, Mum, the others are ready,” called Danielle.

“What—oh right, I’m coming.” I stumbled up the stairs to change though my mind was on things other than presenting a bicycle to a lovely kid as I changed. Sometimes I needed to forget I was biologist and concentrate on my parenting skills which were at times lacking.

Ten minutes later Danni and I clomped out to the bike shed and I had her wait outside and pass the bikes to their riders. When everyone but Hannah had theirs I passed the new one out to Danielle to hand to Hannah, who shook her head and said she was riding the mountain bike. Trish had eyes like saucers and my glower prevented Danni from saying anything.

“Wouldn’t you rather ride the green bike?” I asked Hannah as I emerged with my Specialized.

“Well yes, Auntie Cathy, but its owner might not like me borrowing it.”

Danni had twigged what was about to happen and was trying to hold back a snigger.

“Should I ask her?” I said.

“If you like, but I’ll ride the mountain bike, it’s okay.”

“Hannah, if that was your bike would you lend it to Hannah?”

Danni snorted and even Trish was close to understanding the plot. “That’s a silly question, Auntie Cathy.”

“Just say, yes,” urged Danni and Trish nodded.

“Why?” persisted Hannah.

“Tell you in a minute,” answered Danni.

Hannah shrugged, “Yes.”

“Good, I can lock the shed. I checked the tyres earlier, we’re ready to go.”

“Explain to me, Danni,” said Hannah quietly.

“Duh—it’s your bike dopy,” said Trish with her usual siege gun subtlety.

“Mine? I don’t have a bike.”

“You do now, she’s got you one,” informed Trish.

“You bought me a bike, Auntie Cathy?”

“I think Bramble did but I had to assemble it, right are we going for a ride or having a chat?”

I saw a tear run down her face, “Thank you so much.”

“You can thank me by riding it regularly to show I didn’t waste my money.”

“Oh I will, Auntie Cathy, I really will, like the Gaby girl in the stories Trish likes.”

“A budding world champion eh? I guess it’s a trifle excessive but I’ll settle for it. Let’s go,” and we mounted up and after a few minor adjustments of saddle and so on, rode off down the cycle path.