Easy As Flailing On A Bike.
by Angharad
part 332

I went to bed and after cleaning my teeth, changed into my nightie and sat up in bed. It felt so empty without Simon, I hoped he wasn't doing anything with that crazy nympho of a step-mother. After all, in the fairy stories, the step-mum 'done it'! I sipped my wine, with the taste of toothpaste, it was pretty ghastly. Then I thought, Oh poo, I'll have to clean my teeth again! Then I thought, who will know if I don't, let alone care? Nobody, so there! But I will and I won't be able to sleep until I do it. Why do I bother? I am obviously completely barking!

I drank the rest of the wine and tried to contemplate one hand being. Maybe the wine was better than I thought, or I was more tired. Get it right, think about the sound of being clapped - nah, wrong again. My head was reeling as I went back to the bathroom and cleaned my teeth again. I still couldn't remember what Tom had been on about, so I thought about being Mrs Simon Cameron, or Lady C or whatever. It felt good, until I realised it might never happen.

I felt a tear escape my eyes, what if Simon and I couldn't get it back together? The thought of that was so awful, I couldn't even contemplate it. Had he changed that much? Not really, he was still a twit, but I loved him, so it must be me who had changed.

Well of course I've changed, my body is different, my hormones are different, my attitude is different, everything is different. No wonder he can't cope with me-- I'm no longer the woman he got engaged to, I'm different. Ergo, it's my fault.

I cried myself to sleep and had several horrid dreams, all about losing Simon or Stella or even Tom. I awoke in a sweat more than once. Tom let me lie in but roused me at nine to say that Simon was coming at eleven.

If Si had been in touch, then he must have slept better than I did, which confirmed my disaster reading of my situation last night. I still felt it was my fault, almost exclusively, well only about one hundred per cent anyway, which would allow a margin for error of nil per cent.

I would just have to throw myself on his mercy and hope that Tom could stop him killing me on the spot, or worse rejecting me! Oh my giddy aunt, what was I going to do? If in doubt, shower.

The distraction of making myself as attractive as I could for Simon, took some of the worries off my mind, which was simply a vacant space somewhere between my ears. I actually knew more about how dormice did things than I did humans! Is than an indictment or what?

I have seen dormice bonking, giving birth, dying and so on. The only human birth I know anything about, is my own and that is only, that I survived it. Wow! Maybe I didn't! Maybe I'm the only fully adult, independently living placenta? Nah, my skin is too pale, I'd look like a walking liver.

What did I know about Simon? Only that I loved him and that he was kind, generous, protective, loyal, hardworking, wonderful and, and sleeping with that oversexed trollop, I'll kill him!

I did some deep, slow breathing and calmed down enough to only want to maim him. I dried my hair and dressed casually in a top and trousers. I did squirt a spot of eau de toilete in various places before I went down.

It was ten o clock, a whole hour to wait. Tom greeted me and hugged me, I kissed him on the cheek, maybe I should marry him instead? Simon could give me away instead, nah, Simon would sell me, he's a broker. Maybe I could ask Stella, or even Kiki? I think I'm over-reacting.

"Breakfast?" said Tom in a loud voice.

"No, I couldn't eat a thing."

"Not even a bacon sandwich?"

"Yuck, no."

"Some toast?"

"Not really."

"You have to eat something."

"Why?"

"Because you should. Breakfast is the most important meal..." he droned on.

"You sound like my mother," I offered, which shut him up for a moment.

"If you don't eat something, you'll be full of wind and be farting all the time."

"I beg your pardon! I do not fart all the time."

"That's not what I heard."

"When did you hear me fart?"

"I didn't say I had actually heard you fart, I said that it wasn't what I had heard."

"I don't believe this!" It was true, I didn't.

"You sound like Victor Meldrew, and I'll bet he farts too."

"What!"

"Your face is a picture," he said and began chuckling.

"You, you horrible old man!"

"Hee hee, it got you going didn't it?"

"I hate you!"

"Do you?" he looked so sad, even though I knew he was taking the urine!

"No, I love you, you silly old fool." I hugged him and kissed him on the cheek. "You're a better father to me than my own dad ever was."

"Don't think badly of him, he did his best, I simply have less baggage and I knew you before I liked you. He had no option but to love you, which is sometimes difficult as you may well find out one day."

"Ha fat chance, I can't have babies, remember?"

"There is more than one way to be a parent, look at me. You are not my child in a biological sense but we interact like father and daughter, we have adopted each other. So it can happen."

"Okay, I surrender, I'll eat some toast."

"Good choice."