Easy As Falling Off A Bike pt 2092
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(aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2092 by Angharad Copyright © 2013 Angharad
All Rights Reserved. |
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“You are going to give Trish her computer back, aren’t you?” Simon asked as he sat on the bed to pull his trousers off.
“I might consider it at Christmas, why?”
“Oh c’mon, Cathy, this is Trish we’re talking about, brain the size of a planet...”
“I know, parking cars.”
“Quite, so what about it?”
“I might let her take them to Scotland with you.”
“With me, don’t you mean us?”
“Er–no, I’m not going.”
“But you’ve got to go.”
“I don’t see any imperative.”
“You’re their mother.”
“Yeah, so they deserve a break from me.”
“You’re my wife.”
“You remembered.”
“Remembered? I don’t get it.” He looked completely confused.
“Yes, I’m your wife and mistress of your household.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“So why am I treated like one of your staff or one of your kids?”
“You’re not.”
“So you consult me on everything?”
“To do with home and family, of course–in fact I’d suggest you were the leader there.”
“That’s not the impression I get.” I wasn’t angry, I was cold. I wasn’t going to lose my temper, nor was I going to concede.
“What d’you mean?”
“Who did you intend to go to Scotland?”
“You and me, Trish, Livvie, Danny, Meems, Cate, and Cindy.”
“You didn’t intend to invite Stella and her two?”
“God god, no. She’s free to go there any time but she hates the place–always had. My fault really, I dropped a spider on her face when she was sleeping, she’d eaten half of it before she woke up. It was really funny–or I thought so then.”
“How old were you then?”
“Twenty four, why?”
“Twenty four?” I shrieked.
“Joking, babes, I was about ten and she was eight.”
“What about little Lizzie?”
“She wasn’t born then.”
Some days I wonder if I’ve wandered onto a set for Monty Python. “I know that,” I felt my anger rising, he so deserved a slap. “What about her when you go away?”
“She could stay with Stella.”
“It wasn’t Stella who offered to look after her.”
“Does it matter?”
“Of course it does. I offered to care for her until Neal was well again.”
“How’s he doing?”
“He’s coming on.”
“Good, so when can he have her back.”
“In three or four months if we’re lucky.”
“You’re joking?”
“Would I joke about something like that?”
“No.”
“So, oh masterful one, what do we do with Lizzie?”
“Take her with us?”
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
“Why not, if she were ours we’d have no choice would we?”
“Wouldn’t we? I have a choice and I just exercised it.”
“What was that?”
“You don’t listen Simon.”
“I’m listening now.”
“Okay, I’ll say this in simple language. I am not going to Scotland.”
He looked at me and shook his head. “That’s funny, I could have sworn you said you weren’t coming on holiday.”
“It is funny, because I could have sworn that’s what I said, too.”
“But you are coming, though aren’t you?”
“No I’m not.”
“Oh that’s alright then–hang on, you said no.”
“I know I did, Simon.”
“But you can’t, you’re lady of the manor.”
“I might resign, give it to Trish, she likes castles more than I do.”
“She is not the laird’s wife.”
“Never mind, I’m sure if you showed her the law she’d find a way round it.”
“I don’t want her as my lady, I married you. I want you.”
“Perhaps you should have thought about that before you announced the holiday.”
“What was wrong with that?”
“Nothing was wrong with the announcement; except perhaps you hadn’t asked me first.”
He looked confused. “I don’t have to ask you before I go to my family seat.”
“No you don’t.”
“So what the bloody hell are you going on about?”
“You didn’t ask me if I wanted to go.”
“Oh so that’s what this is all about–I should have known. Sometimes you take this feminista stuff too far.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Well this emancipation stuff–you’re my wife, you’re supposed to support me in decision making.”
“Oh am I now?”
“Yes.”
“Perhaps if you’d have asked me, I might have done. But you didn’t, so I’m not.” I pulled my nightdress on and nipped in to the bathroom.
“You can’t hide in there,” he said loudly as I was cleaning my teeth and I swallowed the toothpaste and nearly choked.
“I’m not hiding, I’m cleaning my teeth.” I emerged from the bathroom and he went in. When he came out he continued his insistence.
“Look, I made an announcement, I can’t go back on it, the kids will be so upset.”
“Tough. I made an announcement too.”
“Which was?”
“I am not going.”
“Oh that’s right spoil it for everyone else, how little girlish of you.”
“Even little girls like to be consulted by little boys before they try to throw their weight about and fail miserably.”
“You are my wife, I insist you come.”
“I promised to love you, not to obey you.”
“If you loved me, you’d come?”
“Logic never was your strong point, was it?”
“Just what is that supposed to mean?”
“What you just said was a nonsensical statement, it implies that I don’t love you because I refused to comply with your overbearing bombast.”
“What?”
“Simon, your command of the English language is just as good as mine, you understood it perfectly.”
“Well if you loved me, you would come.”
“I could equally well say, if you loved me, you’d have consulted with me first before making a complete tit of yourself in front of the children.”
“Okay, I must have forgotten, I’m sorry. Now will you come?”
“No, I’m not taking a baby up there.”
“Why not, I’ll get in some help for you, a nursemaid or whatever you call them.”
“No, it’s too late. You took me for granted.”
“You take me for granted as well–we’re married for god’s sake–it’s what married couples do.”
“Do they? I like to think I ask you first.”
“You’re a girl, they do things differently.”
“So it’s fine for a man to ride roughshod over his wife is it, because he’s a man and they do things differently?”
“Yes–er, no. Now you’re twisting things.”
“Simon, I might be guilty of many things,” [the bastard nodded] “but taking you for granted is not one of them. In fact, most days I can’t believe that I married my Mr Darcy or my Rochester.”
“You think I look like Colin Firth?”
“No, of course not.”
“Oh,” he looked quite downcast–the idiot.
“It’s not about that, it’s about the fact that I never take you for granted but you do so to me all the time.”
“The kids do, I’ve told them off several times.”
“Them, I can cope with. It’s you with who I take issue.”
“Oh that’s right, favour the kids again.”
“Stop acting like a child, Simon.”
“If I was one you wouldn’t be giving me this ear ache would you?”
“No, because you wouldn’t be my husband would you?”
“I could have married young.”
“Simon, that would be illegal.”
“So, at least you’d love me.”
“Stop acting like a six year old.”
“You’d love me if I were one.”
“Not necessarily.”
“You can be so hurtful.”
“Yes, I’m a nasty mummy.”
“I’m going downstairs.” With that he walked out of the room and I sat on the bed and felt like bursting into tears. I’m glad I didn’t because he returned two minutes later. “Forgot my book,” he said and walked out again. I shut the door, got into bed and cried myself to sleep in the dark.
