The Weekly Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 3231 by Angharad Copyright© 2018 Angharad

By the time I went to collect the children, I was feeling pretty tired. What a silly phrase, how can you look pretty when you’re tired? I suppose Si might think I was but then he’s crazy, so his opinion doesn’t count.

Sister Maria was talking with the girls when I arrived and she smiled at me then disappeared into her office. I wasn’t sure if she went to get something, so we left rather quickly. The last thing I needed at the moment was to get caught for anything more than buying a few raffle tickets. That, I could just about cope with.

“Tired, Mummy?” observed Danni once we were home and she was making me a cuppa.

“Just a bit,” I allowed trying not to share the degree of my fatigue with her, as my job is to see they’re all okay before dealing with my own needs, which were simple—a bite to eat and then bed. Of course it never goes to plan, does it? Life I mean, somebody always spoils it in this case it was Julie and Phoebe via the Hampshire fire service. It seemed their salon caught fire which then spread up to their flat, which is above it, and the whole bloody place burnt down. Suddenly, I was no longer tired, the phone call relating their dilemma spurred me into action and with the support of their siblings we had two beds made up in their old rooms before they arrived back home.

I didn’t bother trying to go to help, I can’t fight fires but I could make them welcome when they arrived home. They did, shocked, smoke blackened but with their handbags and in their cars. That was about all they’d managed to save, the rest was up in flames.

I sent them both up to shower, to get rid of the smell—they stank of smoke. Once they’d changed into some of their old clothes, I gave them food and drink, David having gone home after our meal, half an hour before. Once they’d dealt with a bit of the shock, we sat and talked at the kitchen table, just like old times.

Apparently they were having a new sun bed fitted. I knew they were dangerous things but from the perspective of causing melanoma and other skin nasties, but this one must have been faulty because after the bloke fitted it, it caught fire and the rest we know about. Everything was insured and the salon was doing well, but the disruption it would cause to their clientele would take many months to resolve if ever.

The problem was twofold, they needed to get the old premises rebuilt, which would take months even if they could find a builder. Maureen may be able to help there but the insurance investigation would have to be carried out and they’d need temporary premises somewhere near if it was possible.

One thing we could do was to call their clients. When Sammi, who else, set up their computerised appointment system, she had a backup on the cloud, I think they call it. I suspect that means it’s backed up on the internet by one of the big companies, which meant Trish could find it on her computer and print them off lists of names and phone numbers. Julie and Phoebe began to phone around. I left them at it and went off to speak with Simon, who was stuck in Town, having had a late meeting and another early tomorrow. He was naturally upset but said he’d chase the insurance tomorrow—he’d arranged it all through the bank, so was best placed to do that.

I then started looking on the web for vacant shops nearby, which they could use as a temporary salon, once they’d been cleaned up and equipment ordered. I found one half a mile away from their old place and sent an email to the estate agent asking for an urgent meeting. I also sent one to our solicitor to be ready to deal with leases and rents if the place was acceptable. I printed off the detail of the place and went to see the girls.

They were astonished that I was talking about a temporary move for them, thinking that they’d never be able to afford the equipment twice. I reminded them that I was married to a bank.

Julie then panicked, not being able to remember what they’d need and what they’d had. Trish smirked and printed off a list of all their equipment and even the stocks they had of various shampoos and so on, so thorough had Sammi’s computerisation been. It was all set up with a bar code reader for stock and everything else was entered on the system as it was bought, which fortunately, Phoebe dealt with it and she was very conscientious about doing it. So we had a list of everything with the original prices—the insurance claim, should be a doddle.

It was late when I got to bed and I left Julie and Phoebe talking in the kitchen, having chased Danni off to bed half an hour before. Then, when I got into bed my head was spinning and my mind was buzzing like a hive full of angry bees. I think I finally got to sleep about half past one, some two hours later.

The next day, despite their protests, I made the girls go to school—David took them while I told Diane I probably wouldn’t be in until later if then.

“Was that your daughters’ place I saw on the local news?”

“Yes.”

“Give them my love, I’ll deal with your calls.” I thanked her and made Julie, who was grumbling about the stuff she’d found in the wardrobe being inadequate, eat some breakfast.

“We are going looking at a fire scene and possibly somewhere to move to temporarily, you aren’t going to need good clothing for that.”

“It’s all right for you,” she threw back at me.

“What d’you mean?” I replied.

“Well, you’re old and used to being seen as a refugee from Oxfam.”

It was only the slight edge of a smile around her mouth that stopped me from changing my mind and going into work. Twenty five year old adolescents do nothing for me, I have to deal with them for a living in the university, I don’t need to at home as well.

The estate agents called me and I got a very different response once they found out it was Lady Cameron, yes that one, the banker’s wife, then had appeared to be their opening gambit of that shop had been let. Suddenly, they had two or three better ones not too far away.

So at nine thirty, we were driving into Portsmouth in my Jaguar, looking to find the first possible replacement site for the salon, and even then Trish had sent two texts saying she was happy to speak with Sister Maria to get a hour or two off school to negotiate contracts for us with estate agents, as she knew I wasn’t very good at that sort of thing Julie thought it was hilarious, especially when I told her I’d recently negotiated half a million pounds for a new laboratory building for my two post grad students. But then, Julie was quite an astute businesswoman and probably able to fight her own corner, so I was happy to be background support and let the two young women, I was privileged to think of as my daughters, deal with any negotiations if they arose. I’d be useful later asking Simon to give them a temporary loan to get the places sorted and equipped.

On the way Maureen texted us to ask if it was Julie’s salon that had caught fire and to let her know if she could do anything to help. It’s nice to have friends, especially ones like Diane and Maureen.