Easy As Falling Off a Bike pt 3253

The Weekly Dormouse.
(aka Bike, est. 2007)
Part 3253
by Angharad

Copyright© 2020 Angharad

  
023_0.JPG

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.
####

Danni came back with a carton of Cornish ice cream which claimed to contain real clotted cream, though I always thought that came from Devon. The others weren't picky and they wolfed it down when we got home. At least while they were eating, Hannah and Livvie weren't arguing.

So it appeared the prodigal football player was setting to return to run amok amongst the schoolgirls of Hampshire, especially in the Portsmouth and district league. Did I really approve of someone with Danielle's skills playing against such amateurs? I did but mainly because she had no great advantage physically over them, in fact some were bigger and faster, what she had was talent and skills that were much above the rest. In fact, I suspect she might have made it as a male player, perhaps not to an international cap, but she could have succeeded in the professional game. Life however decided that wouldn't happen and with some help from Pia changed the course of her future, the legislation allowing transgender athletes to compete in their chosen gender enabled the rest, or shall we say, it enabled her to show her talents in a somewhat different body on a slightly different stage.

The rest of the week went by normally, save for the two girls rising early and going out running. It was having much more effect on Trish, who lost a bit of her puppy fat and began to look much leaner and fitter, her legs particularly so. Danni was simply recovering her fitness which had been very good before she fell out with Wembley.

Actually that's not quite right, she didn't fall out with them, they simply shelved her and stopped including her in the England squad. As Trish said, they betrayed her because they didn't stand up to the criticism from tabloid papers about playing a trans girl. She was by far their best player, by a mile, so dropping her was like cutting off a leg. They'd been beaten by a couple of teams since which Danni reckons was because she wasn't there. I hope now to gently ease her into wearing the blue shirt of Scotland, especially as there was a fixture against England in six months time, assuming the virus allowed it to happen.

At least I now had something to feel positive about and looked forward to going to watch the two girls play for their school the next day. All too soon, it was Saturday and Danielle wore the 'Beckham number seven' shirt. As soon as the other team saw it, there were anxious faces and grumbles, 'But she's a boy, ref.'

Apparently Sister Maria had spoken to both the local schools soccer committee and the referee who was presiding today and both accepted she met the criteria to play as a woman by virtue of surgery and hormones and I had a letter from both the surgeon who rebuilt her groin and her psychiatrist, my good pal, Stephanie Caudwell who suggested that she was mentally sound and quite female in her thought processes. Given that she was a teen with a growing sex drive, I suppose that like most teenage girls, she enjoyed the company of boys, though her recent exposure in the tabloids had curtailed her social life somewhat before the dreaded virus had struck, so she only really had soccer and her school work to keep her sane.

I'd felt that she had matured enormously in the past six or so months and she was viewing life as a young adult not a child. I was really proud of her and the lovely young woman she had become, though she was a different animal on a football pitch and today was no exception. I watched my two daughters destroy the opposing school's team in the first half. It seemed they both felt they had something to prove and by half time, St Claire's were six goals to nil. Both had scored a hat trick apiece and others had nearly added to the drubbing.

The second half was even worse, the other side gave up and Danielle ended up with eight goals to her name and Trish had five, with three other girls getting on the score sheet. The final score was sixteen nil.

I suspected there would be protests, either in the echo or to the school, or to the football committee. Meanwhile, Portsmouth Ladies were really pleased to have their top striker back, though their first game was cancelled as two of the team showed symptoms of covid and the whole team had to self-isolate for seven days, longer if they showed any signs of the virus. Thankfully mine didn't.

However, our luck ran out when Henry was taken ill a couple of days after a meeting in Paris. Henry doesn't do illness, he's a workaholic, mind you to a large extent so is Simon - remember him, I married him a few years back. He was self-isolating in London as well, which just meant he worked from his computer at his flat.

Simon proved to be okay and a week later went back to work, Henry went to hospital, a private one near Westminster but was transferred to St George's when he worsened. Monica phoned me in great distress.

"Cathy, he's going to die, isn't he, he can hardly breathe even when they lie him on his front."

"C'mon, Monica, he's a fighter, he'll come through it."

"Can't you do some of your magic on him?"

"They won't let you near him, so what chance have I got?" Besides I don't want to catch it and bring it home, plus I'd have to self-isolate after seeing him.

"Sorry, Cathy, I'm just out of my mind with worry. I don't know whether I'm on my head or my heels."

"It must be awful, Monica, but all you can do is send him your love and be ready to look after him when he comes home."

"Can't you do anything?" she sounded desperate.

"I'll see if I can send him some healing, but I'm sure he'll pull through, he's pretty healthy generally." I knew this because I'd sorted pretty well all of him when he was shot that time, when they wouldn't believe I could pull bullets out of someone, mind you I hardly believed it myself, but it is quite a party trick.

The rest of that evening was bit traumatic. I had two frustrated footballers, who still had two days to go before they could stop isolating and thus missed their opportunity to create mayhem on the footie field. St Claire's still won apparently but only by one goal. So what with them mooning about the place squabbling with all the others and Simon phoning to ask me to help Henry, it wasn't the usual relaxed atmosphere of a Sunday evening.

"Just what do you expect me to do, Simon?"

"Look, babes, can't you have a chat with that goddess of yours and ask her to give him a leg up."

"Oh yeah, she's just waiting on my next demand."

"Well what are you waiting for?"

"I was being ironic."

"Oh."

"Have you ever gone to church and told God to pull his finger out?"

"I told him to fuck off out of my life when my mother died."

"Oh, so it's not just me."

"What isn't?"

"Feeling a disappointment with the Demi-urge."

"The what?"

"The name the Cathars and other gnostic sects gave the god of the Old Testament because they felt he was flawed and imperfect, in fact they felt their mission was to escape past him to get to the true god in the heavens beyond him. Qabbalistically, that would presumably be beyond the Veils of Negative Existence." I wittered on.

"Babes, I haven't got a clue what you're on about, just ask your goddess lady to help him, please, I'm really scared for him, he's on a ventilator."

Oh shit, "Okay, I'll do what I can."

"Please, Babes, I'm really begging you..." I could hear the pain in his voice and I think he was actually crying. My heart felt like it would tear apart. He rang off and I went to plead with my girls to stop squabbling as I needed to send healing to Henry, who was very ill.

The bickering stopped and they all asked if they could come and help me. I told them in no uncertain terms that if they did they would have to stay quiet and do exactly as I said. I knew Danni and Trish could but whether the others, especially the younger ones could remained to be seen. They all followed me into my study and we sat in a circle holding hands and with our eyes closed I asked the goddess to help us.

05Dolce_Red_l_0.jpg



If you liked this post, you can leave a comment and/or a kudos!
Click the Thumbs Up! button below to leave the author a kudos:
up
224 users have voted.
If you liked this post, you can leave a comment and/or a kudos! Click the "Thumbs Up!" button above to leave a Kudos

And please, remember to comment, too! Thanks. 
This story is 1512 words long.