The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2201 by Angharad Copyright © 2013 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

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David banged the gong for lunch as I was in the middle of expressing my milk. I watched them all troupe in and heard voices presumably making choices of what they wanted or thanking him for cooking it. I finally finished, I was hungry and quickly sorted out my clothing before placing the bottle in the refrigerator and went to the sink to wash out the pump before dropping it in the Milton fluid.

At the table I noticed a bit of a gap. “Where’s Danni?”

“Dunno,” was the common consensus.

“Want me to get her?” offered Livvie.

“No, I’m up I’ll go.” It served a double purpose, it felt as if one of my pads had slipped, so I adjusted it as I went up the stairs. Danni’s door was shut. I knocked and opened it, she wasn’t there. I checked several other rooms calling her name. I couldn’t find her.

Returning to the kitchen I said I couldn’t find her, and the other children went off to look for me. Simon insisted I eat my lunch but my appetite was depressed. I gave up trying when they all returned saying she wasn’t there and her jacket was missing as well as her phone and bag.

Trish was already trying to text her to ask her where she was, but there was no reply. It looked like she’d done a runner. We decided she was wearing a denim skirt with a polo necked jumper and her black hooded jacket. We think she had her boots on as they didn’t seem to be there. I wrote this down in case we had to inform the police.

I really began to wonder what sort of home I was providing if my children seem to spend half their time trying to escape. Julie assured me it was a teenage thing and the home was fine, the best asylum she’d ever visited. Sadly her humour was lost on me, all I could feel was worry about Danni.

I phoned Cindy’s mum. She hadn’t seen Danni, however, Cindy wasn’t in so she didn’t know if they were together. I tried to make it sound fairly casual not like I was worrying myself to death, despite this being how I felt.

Trish sent Cindy a text but there was no reply there either. So I called Pia’s mother who wanted to chat. Pia was coming on in leaps and bounds and she was now going to a girl’s school, thankfully not St Claires.

Once again Trish tried sending a text but got no response. I tried calling all of their mobiles but they were all switched off, which sounded suspicious to me. It was quite possible they were all together. On the other hand it might just be a coincidence. We had three teens who were incommunicado, which is unusual in this age of the mobile phone, they’re usually so worried someone says something about them on facebook or elsewhere and need to know about it instantly.

Trish went and checked up the various social networking sites but half an hour later she returned–there was nothing. As we had no idea where to start looking, I suggested we stay put, this might all be a huge mistake and perhaps she thought she told me where she was going.

Phoebe said it sounded most unlikely because she always told one of them in case I didn’t catch what she said. She’d told no one. Once again I began to wonder why I’d adopted these children when I could have stayed at home playing Lady Bountiful and spent some of Simon’s money before Stella got it.

I spoke to my sister in law who had a funny tummy and blamed it on my cooking the other day. She didn’t know where Danni was either. I was looking like she’d got angry with me or Julie and me, and had gone off to make us worry: in which case she was succeeding. I just wanted to know she was safe, I could kill her at my ease once I got her home.

Julie and Phoebe offered to go and look for her but I told them they’d be wasting their time. I fretted all afternoon when just as David was asking about dinner, Sammi came home. She’d been out with her boyfriend buying nightdresses for when she went into hospital.

“What’s the matter?” she asked sensing the tension.

“We think Danni has run off.”

“Eh? I saw her at Gun Wharf with Cindy and her other friend.”

“Pia,” I supplied.

“Yeah, that’s the one. Give her a call.”

“We’ve tried that and the other two. They’ve all switched their phones off.”

“I don’t think she saw me, we were in M&S and they were across the way, just walked past when we came out. They were laughing and joking so I don’t think there was anything wrong with her.”

I thanked Sammi and made some more tea. I told David to continue with dinner though I wondered if Stephanie would find Danni in a communicative mood when she finally got home. If she was trying to wind me up, she was succeeding, though at least I knew she was okay a little while ago.

I called Cindy’s mum again and asked if she’d seen the three of them. She said she hadn’t but was expecting Cindy anytime. I asked her to call me if Danni showed up and not to let her know I’d phoned or that she’d called me back. I think this bit is called, ‘The Empire Strikes Back.’

About ten minutes later, Brenda called to say they were both depleting her biscuit tin. I asked her to keep Danni there and grabbed my coat and keys. I didn’t need the coat, it was still quite mild and besides I was hopping mad and my anger fuelled my thermostat.

I arrived at Cindy’s house with Phoebe. I sent her round the back and to grab Danni if she tried to escape that way. It was just as well I did because as soon as I rang the doorbell, Danni rushed out the back door and straight into Phoebe’s arms.

It took us ten minutes to calm her down enough to get in the car and then only because I threatened to call the police. Once I got her home I took her to my study and really read the riot act.

“You have had me worried sick. If you do that again I’ll stop you from seeing either Cindy or Pia again. Do you understand me?”

“You can’t do that.”

“I can do anything I set my mind to. For that bit of lip, you’re grounded for the next two weeks, if you want to extend it–just carry on like that.”

“You can’t, it’s not fair.”

“Neither is worrying me quite deliberately. Whose idea was it to switch off the mobiles?”

“We went to the cinema.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“We did,” she blushed and spat at me.

“What did you see?”

“Gravity.”

“I thought that was an over sixteen film.”

“They don’t care if you have the money to get in.”

“Who’s in it?”

“George Clooney.”

“On his own?”

“No some woman is with him.”

“Who’s she?”

“I dunno, I was too busy looking at George Clooney wondering what you see in an old man.”

“As soon as dinner is over you are seeing Stephanie, if you give her any trouble, you’ll be grounded for a month and if that means I have to lock you in your room, so be it. Now go and wash your hands and don’t mess me about any further because the meter is running.”

She strolled out of my study as if she’d just come in to ask what was for dinner. Only her scarlet face showed she was pretending.

The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2202 by Angharad Copyright © 2013 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

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The Dover sole was delicious though my appetite felt impaired by my recent contretemps with Danni. What is it about teenagers that make perfectly normal people desire to commit murder–slowly?

The object of my attention went off with the only person trained to understand her, and I didn’t give her much chance either. The others were taken up with fussing over Stephanie’s baby girl while I sat quietly with Lizzie feeding from me while Cate played with some little dolls at my feet.

In the hour Stephanie spent rearranging Danni’s brain cells I fed and changed Lizzie, gave Cate a little top up and changed her ready for bed. She was such a good baby, and an equally good toddler compared to Puddin’ and her psychopathic sister. The latter sought Cate out and pinched her; which I saw and separated them forcibly. The upshot was I had two greetin’ tots and that set Lizzie off. I was nearly overcome by the desire to sit in the car and read my book.

“Jeez, what have you done now, Cathy, it sounds like auditions for best cat’s choir?”

“I did nothing, our younger niece just pinched our youngest daughter on the face and giggled as she did it. I separated them, both started to cry and that caused Lizzie to join the decibels.”

“Why is my daughter crying?” demanded Stella.

“Because I pulled her off Cate, whom she pinched.”

“You hit my Fiona?”

“No I did not, that little monster attacked Cate, she has a red mark on her cheek where your darling little sociopath pinched her.”

“I’m sure she deserved it.”

“She did not, she was playing with her dolls when your tame tyrannosaurus attacked her.”

“How dare you?” snapped Stella, scooping up Fiona she turned abruptly and went off upstairs.

“How to make friends and influence people,” said Simon.

“Oh shut up.”

“Tame tyrannosaurus, I have to credit you–no one does invective like my wife.”

“Oh shut up,” I said and picked up Lizzie, adjusted her to one arm and then assisted Cate who held her arms up for me to collect her as well. With my two babies, I also went upstairs. At least the two wains stopped crying while I carried them, whereas Stella still had one bawling the place down.

Lizzie went off to sleep quite quickly and Cate, once I had her changed into her pyjamas, had a little cuddle with me and then went to bed and sleep. I returned to the kitchen where Simon and Stephanie were chatting and drinking coffee.

“Tea?” asked Si and I nodded and slumped into the chair he’d just vacated. “Thanks,” he noted.

“You’re welcome,” I retorted and then asked Stephanie, “Well, when does she pupate and emerge as a human being?”

Stephanie smirked, “I love your zoological allusions.”

“I don’t have illusions,” I replied deliberately mishearing what she said.

“That’s a matter of opinion,” said Simon placing the mug of tea on the table in front of me.

“Don’t their brains all turn to mush and reform as something useful–sometimes?”

“Not quite.”

“Oh, I wondered if we microwaved her brain it would speed things up?”

“Cathy, behave.”

“She described our younger niece as a tame tyrannosaurus earlier.”

“Nice one. Teenagers and toddlers are quite similar in some respects.”

“Being sociopaths, you mean?”

“Something like that.”

“I’m off to watch the telly,” Simon bent down and pecked me on the cheek then pecked Stephanie and sloped off scratching his groin as he went. We both looked at each other and laughed.

“He does it for effect, you know that?”

“I’m a psychiatrist, remember?”

“Yeah, so?”

“I know about these things.”

“Whoopee doo. I obviously missed out somewhere.”

“Quite, but I don’t need to counsel you about loss do I?”

“Eh? Oh very funny. Never mind me, I’m an adult, so outside your remit.”

“Allegedly,” she replied and took a sip of her coffee.

“What about our would-be runaway?”

“She says she went because you were giving her a hard time.”

“She says that when I ask her if she’s got any homework to finish.”

“Obviously, hard, is a word with idiosyncratic meaning in this place.”

“She is playing with fire and I don’t want her to get burnt.”

“I appreciate that fact, Cathy, but I’m not sure she does. Remember, teenagers are invincible, death and injury happen to other people–they are going to live forever unless boredom kills them first.”

“Never mind the sermon, how do I stop that little madam acting like she’s a bitch on heat?”

“You talk with her and remind her that she has responsibilities and to which there are consequences.”

“I tried that, I even had Julie try to explain the facts of life to her.”

“You’re the biologist why ask Julie?”

“I didn’t mean the birds and the bees, I meant about once a boy or man is running on testosterone, he’s hard to control; especially when he’s trying to impress you. If you remember, Julie has experience of men not being impressed with what she had down below and got well roughed up because of it.”

“That was a perceptive move on your part, Cathy.”

“Careful, that nearly resembled a compliment.”

“Damn, I need to be more careful.”

We talked for another twenty minutes and I told her what I understood of the situation and what had happened in my view.

“Reading between the lines, your stories have similarities, just the emphasis is different, she also knows you care about her.”

“Yes but if she cared about me, she wouldn’t behave like this, would she?”

“Cathy, didn’t you have boyfriends at thirteen?”

“No. Well there was my friend who got flooded, his parents thought I was a girl and treated me like one.”

“Oh, this sounds interesting.”

“Not really, I had long hair as I told you before and went to help a boy from school I knew when I heard his house got flooded.”

“Very caring of you.”

“I just wanted to help, but my wellies were leaking so I borrowed a pair from Siá¢n and they were a bit girly, with that and the hair, they thought I was a girl.”

“They were quite right too.”

“But he wasn’t a boyfriend, as in back row of the ABC.”

“Pity, you’ll never know what you missed.”

“I took enough beatings as it was, I didn’t need one from a disgruntled fumbler.”

Stephanie laughed and showed a perfect row of even, white teeth. “That is so visual, a disgruntled fumbler. You should write books, Cathy.”

“I did one for my PhD, and another based upon my dormouse notes, that’ll do for now.”

“I keep forgetting I’m in such elite company.”

“Ha ha.”

“No, honestly.”

“You’ve got more initials after your name, I’m sure–so why the insecurity.”

“Well Dr Watts, it’s like this, I used to sleep under the bed–d’you think I’m a little potty?” She said this as I took a mouthful of tea–I never did swallow it, it went everywhere including my lungs and I spent the next ten minutes coughing.

Stephanie, her of the detached compassion, nearly laughed herself to death.

The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2203 by Angharad Copyright © 2013 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

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“Everything all right, Mummy?” asked Julie as I wiped my face and clothing on a towel.

I was still coughing and I suspected red eyed as a consequence. “You timed that to perfection, bitch.” I said at rather than to Stephanie who smirked.

“Moi?”

“What happened?” Julie wasn’t going away.

“She cracked a joke as I took a mouthful of tea.”

“Oh,” said Julie as Stephanie’s smirk grew larger. “That explains the mess.” She looked disdainfully at the spots of tea across the table.

“Go and drown her idiot child or something equally useful,” I instructed my daughter.

“Hey, pick on someone your own size,” challenged our resident shrink.

“I did but they don’t fight fair.”

“Only because you’re so girly.”

“I’m so girly?” I felt the pitch of my voice rise. “At least I can walk past a mirror without preening.”

For a moment she glowered at me then the smug grin returned. “Finished?”

“Yeah, until I can think of a better insult.”

“Good, I’m glad you enjoyed that.”

“Oh bugger, I need to express again,” I could feel wet blobs forming on my top having soaked through the pads and the bra.

“Feel free, you can trust me, I’m a psychiatrist.”

“Julie, could you make some more tea while I get my stuff.”

“Sure,” answered my daughter, “You want me to drown her after?”

“Nah, too many witnesses–I’ll kill ’em both later.”

I returned a few minutes later wiped down my breast and attached the pump. We chatted about nothing in particular and I filled another bottle with milk.

“You’ve certainly got that down to a fine art, missus.”

“I’ve had a bit of practice.”

“I still can’t believe that it all happened spontaneously.”

“Well it did, I didn’t take anything except my usual oestrogen HRT.”

“I suspect a couple of babies are rather glad it did.”

“Three if you include Simon–he likes his milk shakes, as he calls them.”

She smiled at me. “I think if the truth were told, most husbands of nursing mothers do.”

“I wonder if the partners of nursing lesbians do?” Why that suddenly came into my brain and travelled out of my mouth, I couldn’t say.

“So I’m told. It’s just a form of intimacy between couples and therefore probably happens. Why did you raise the matter, anyway or is it too Freudian?”

“I just wondered. It’s beyond my experience and I wondered if you knew.”

“Not personally.”

“You said that very quickly,” I teased and she blushed. Was our little Stephanie gay?

She shrugged, “So, sue me.”

I said nothing but didn’t share any further conjecture or questions.

“I have to go, busy day tomorrow.” Stephanie stood up and stretched.

“I’ll go and find her,” I said and disappeared into the dining room where the three mouseketeers were fawning over the sleeping infant. “Sorry, she has to go back to her owner,” I said picking her up gently and carrying her back to the kitchen.

Stephanie wrapped her up in a blanket and handed her back to me while she pulled on her own coat. I switched on the outside lights and the cold dark night revealed some drops of rain on the windows. I watched shivering from the doorway while she carefully deposited her baby into her carrycot which was strapped to the seat of her car, a Mazda MX5, not the best car for small children. She started the engine and with a wave she headed off into the night. She sent me a text about twenty five minutes later to say they were both home safe.

While I was waiting for her to text me, I rounded up the children and sent them to bed and sent their grandfather to read to them–his choice so I’ve no idea what he read. I think we’ve done all the Gaby stories now, so until the usual author writes some more or that strange Welshwoman, they’ll have to find something else that was suitable.

I’m never sure if reading them stories about gender different children is fair or not because while Danni and Trish are, the other two aren’t. Arguably it gives them insight or makes it seem more normal than it is. Let’s face it, I heard the other day that about three thousand gender change certificates had been issued, like the ones that Julie and I have, since 2005 or whenever it happened–shows it isn’t that common. I accept loads of people might not bother to get them, in which case why bother to changeover at all? The answer is, different people have different levels of need–maybe, or maybe I see it in black and white–you’re either transsexual or you’re not, and to me that means going all the way. See, I’m an extremist, a militant even, but I don’t blame it on the voices or what God told me to do. It’s just my own prejudice, but then I didn’t like the original act because I thought it went too far and people I’d never accept as properly gender dysphoric were also able to change their birth certificates. Oh well nobody’s perfect.

I checked on Danni a bit later and she was reading something. “What’s that?”

She blushed and showed me. “The transgender guidebook?” I read aloud, “Where did you get this?”

“Cindy loaned it to me, you can buy it on Amazon.”

“You live in a house with half a dozen of us and you need to read a book about it?”

“Just making sure I don’t miss anything.”

I sat on the side of the bed. “I care about you, you know that I hope?”

“Course I do.”

“Good. Don’t get too many ideas from the book, it’s American and things are different over there to here.”

“I thought the Benjamin rules applied to both.”

“No, the institute of psychiatry or someone else has developed its own guildelines and besides, they still see you as a child and those rules are different again to adults. The rules in Europe differ as well, Holland is much more liberal or progressive than here.”

“Why? People are the same aren’t they?”

“Yes but collectively they’re not, cultures are different. In Iran, where being gay is a crime they have a large number of people having sex change surgery even though the rest of the world suggests they are doing it to gay men. You want to live with another man–become a woman.”

“That’s silly.”

“It’s outrageous, but they delude themselves that they have no gay men.”

“If I was a gay man, I’d leave the place or hide it from them.”

“Which I’m sure is what happens to many of them.”

“Why is it so different over there?”

“A mixture of religion and politics. In lots of ways Islamic countries are still dealing with a medieval culture and the ayatollahs run most of it. There are moves to modernise the country but just look at Saudi Arabia, a woman can’t go for a drive by herself.”

“Why? That’s crazy.”

“Because of the religious influence on the law. Men have tried to control female sexuality since time began. In strongly religious societies, they often succeed and women are hidden or prevented from showing their skin or their flesh.”

“It doesn’t happen here though does it?”

“Women still cover their heads in churches, not as much as they used to, but traditionalists still do. If you go to a church in a place like Malta, if you’re wearing short shorts or a sleeveless top, they’ll often ask you to cover up because it’s seen as being disrespectful.”

“Honestly. What I’ve always wanted to ask is how can it be disrespectful if according to their scriptures we’re made in the image of god?”

“What women as well?”

I gasped, “Of course, how d’you think men got here?”

“Oh yeah.” I kissed her goodnight and told her not to read too late and left before she thought too hard about what I’d just said. Corrupting young minds, I’m obviously a natural teacher.

The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2204 by Angharad Copyright © 2013 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

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In bed Simon rolled over to face me, “Why did Danni run off like that?”

“Your guess is as good as mine.”

“I have no idea.”

“That makes two of us. I suppose it was to meet up with Cindy and Pia knowing that if she’d told me, I might have said no.”

“Should we stop her seeing them if they’re having a bad influence?”

“I wish I knew what was going on with her.”

“What d’you mean?”

“It’s hard to quantify, but it’s almost as if she’s playing the part because she gets acceptance from Cindy and Pia.”

“She gets acceptance from us too.”

“Yes, but we’re family and we have a track record of accepting gender deviants.”

“Are you a deviant?” he asked with a sparkle in his voice.

“Not anymore.”

“Damn, I thought we’d do something kinky for a change.”

“You can wear one of my nighties if you want?”

“On second thoughts...”

I smirked, I knew that would shut him up.

“Does our resident mental health professional have any idea what Danni’s up to?”

“Not yet.”

“How long is it going to take?”

“As long as it takes.”

“But if he’s not really a girl, I’d like my son back.”

“You’re not the only one, you know.”

“Yeah, but I can hardly be a role model for the girls can I?”

“That’s where you’re absolutely wrong.”

“Am I?”

“Yes. Girls need good models of men as well as women.”

“So you can say to them, this is what happens if you don’t eat all your greens.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Well you seem to have a relatively low opinion of men in general.”

“Do I? It wasn’t meant to be like that. I have a great respect for men who act with dignity and compassion, who are honest and loyal to people as well as causes.”

“D’you actually know any like that?”

“Several. I can name them if you like.”

“Oh, you know them personally?”

“I do indeed. There’s Daddy, and my pa in law and my husband, and David our cook.”

“Oh so I squeeze in then?”

“No, but if I’d started with you, you wouldn’t have heard any of the other names, would you?”

“Possibly–okay, I wouldn’t have.”

“Simon, you are one of the nicest men I know as well as being the most handsome and all us girls love you to bits.”

“Would you care to put your words into actions, they are traditionally said to speak louder than words.”

He doesn’t give up does he? Oh well...

Lizzie either slept all night or I didn’t hear her. I was so tired after Simon’s bedroom gymnastics that I simply zonked and didn’t wake until the alarm went off and Radio 4 came into the bedroom.

I suddenly realised that I was naked and all icky down below, not only that but a certain odour pervaded the room and the sooner I stripped the bed, the better. I showered and called the girls to get up. They showered and I combed their hair after they’d dried themselves. While they showered, I quickly stripped the bed and stuffed it in the washing machine. Why I felt guilty, I had no idea. I wondered if all married women felt the same, a worry that no one in the family knew we had sex last night? Especially the children.

“Good night was it, Mummy?” asked a teasing minx we usually call Julie.

“It was a good sleep I had, yes, thank you.”

“I meant the bit before you slept, you know, making the bed springs boing.”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” I said blushing–why? I’m only twenty nine, I should still be bonking like a bunny.

“I think you do, Mummy,” she gave me a positively evil smile.

“What’s it to you, anyway?”

“Oh nothing, just glad to know you’re not just an old married couple these days.”

“Did they have sex again?” asked a yawning Trish, “I wondered what woke me up.”

“But we were as quiet as mice,” I protested.

“Told ya they would,” said Julie high fiving Trish. “Oh who’s big boy, Mummy?”

I stood up and walked briskly out of the room.

“You’ve done it now,” chided Trish.

I felt a mixture of emotions, anger, guilt, even humour. I wanted to laugh but was probably closer to crying. It was no one else’s business but Simon’s and mine. I walked around for a few minutes to regain my composure. I told myself I was a healthy young woman in a loving relationship and thus had every right to make love to my husband as often as we wanted. So sod them, I have nothing to be ashamed of. I walked back into the kitchen.

Julie had gone to work, Trish was upstairs getting her books together and Livvie and Danni were having breakfast with Cate and Puddin’. I wasn’t sure where Meems was, possibly helping Jacquie who was feeding Lizzie in the conservatory–with a bottle of my milk. I know, it’s one of those little ironies.

Nothing more was said about my nocturnal exercises and for an hour or two I was almost bursting with the energy I’d built up to deal with it. Sometimes I think they play me like a violin.

Danni went off with her tutor and Phoebe drove off on the scooter to college. I took the girls to school and came back to find Stella holding the phone out to me, “Timed that just right.”

“Who is it?” I hissed at her.

“The college.”

“What college?”

Stella just rolled her eyes and handed me the cordless phone. “Hello?”

“Hello, is that Lady Cameron?”

“Yes, who is that?”

“Sorry, it’s Val Myers, the principal of Portsmouth College.”

“How can I help you, Mrs Myers?”

“I have a daughter who goes to St Claire’s.”

“Yes, and?”

“I saw you speak for prize giving–you were brilliant.”

“Thank you, but I’m sure you didn’t just call me to make me feel better?”

“Uh no, I need to ask a favour.”

“It wouldn’t involve prize giving by any chance?”

“I knew you’d agree, thank you so much.”

“Mrs Myers, I haven’t agreed to anything yet. I need dates and times before I agree to anything.”

“It’s April, the Friday before Good Friday, at two thirty in the afternoon.”

“At the moment that looks clear.”

“Brilliant. I know you’re a university professor but could you do something like you did for the school, for us and then present the prizes afterwards.”

“What half an hour of out-takes and then the prizes?”

“That would be so kind of you.”

“This is the same college that Phoebe attends?”

“Phoebe Allen? Yes it is.”

“Okay.”

“She lives with you, I believe.”

“Yes, since her mother died she’s come to live with us.”

“I hear such wonderful things about you, Lady Cameron.”

“Well you know what they say, don’t believe anything you hear and only half of what you see.”

“Oh very good. I’m really looking forward to prize giving next year, thank you so much.”

“Damn,” I said replacing the phone.

“Problems?” asked Stella who seemed to have forgotten our spat the night before.

“I’ve just agreed to award the prizes at the college.”

“That’s what she was on about, I thought she said you’d won a prize.”

“Yeah, the booby prize.”

The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2205 by Angharad Copyright © 2013 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

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“I feel like some minor celebrity.” I said to no one in particular.

“Yeah, not quite an A-lister, yet,” was Stella’s response.

“What?”

“I said you haven’t quite hit the top list yet, as a celebrity that is.”

“Who wants to?”

“You must or you wouldn’t have brought it up.”

“I was simply musing out loud.”

“Yeah, about being a celebrity.”

“No, I was wondering why people ask me to do things like award prizes.”

“Well, first, you’re cheap, second, you’re reliable and finally, you’ve got some good communication skills.”

“I’m a teacher.”

“See, I knew they’d come in handy one day.”

“Have you had your medication this morning?”

“Ha ha, very funny. I was going to offer to put your borrowed baby in the washing machine with my two. Now I won’t bother.”

“Is this dishwasher or clothes washer?”

“Clothes washer, you know the salt plays hell with their hair in the dishwasher.”

“Sorry, I forgot.”

“Well don’t again.”

“I won’t, Stella, but I must point out if you use the fast spin, they’ll be sick–they were last time.”

“No, I was going to do them on delicates.”

“Sounds suitable.” I then left the kitchen before Stella tried to convince me she was going to load her kids into the washing machine. I was still a little hurt at the way my children had teased me about having sex, I’m sure they didn’t mean to be but it didn’t stop it hurting all the same.

If I asked them to stop that would probably have the opposite effect, they’d prise open the crack into a gaping void. If I ignored them, they’d probably stop eventually and if I acted proud of the fact I’d got laid when they weren’t–nah, that might seem a bit arrogant. I am trying to teach them some social skills and arrogance doesn’t usually fit in those.

Who could I discuss it with? Simon? Hardly, he’d either tease me as well or stamp all over them with his size twelve boots. No it would have to be someone else, but quite who, I don’t know.

I finished the bit of lesson planning I had to do and went back to the kitchen. The washing machine was on in the utility room but I couldn’t see any heads or limbs flopping round in it. David was in the kitchen chopping something. I watched him for a few moments before he noticed me. “Oh, hello.”

“Hi. I was just admiring your ability to chop things without adding bits of finger or nail to the bits.”

“Practice, that’s all,” he replied and if I’d asked he’d have had me practicing. I still had all my digits so I changed the subject.

I remarked on the music he had playing on the radio, “Michael Kamen, ‘Prince of thieves,’ theme music.”

“Is it?” he obviously wasn’t interested. However, John Suchet confirmed my identification. “Clever dick.”

“Sorry for breathing, I’ll leave you to continue abusing whatever vegetable that was originally.”

“Herb.”

“Who is?”

“It’s a herb not a vegetable.”

“Fine, as long as you know what’s what, I don’t think I’d like my spuds done that way.” I slipped quickly out of the kitchen before he threw the knife he had in his hands–you have to be bit careful with cooks, they have a low boiling point.

I looked out of the window and down the drive. It was dry and not too cold. Blow it, I’m going for a bike ride, then remembered I was a little sore down below. Damn. Instead I went upstairs and pulled on some knee boots with low heels and grabbed my windproof coat. Ten minutes later Kiki and I were walking down the drive and towards the park. I took her ball and a latex glove so I could pick it up and throw it for her without getting my hand all slimy. Dog gob isn’t the nicest substance to massage into skin.

I walked her for an hour, throwing the ball and then chasing her to get it back–she’s no retriever. Were she to be involved with a shoot, apart from being frightened by the pop of guns, she’d be useless at retrieving fallen birds. She’d be as likely to eat them as carry them back to the shooters.

At one point she got scent of something and ignored the ball I’d just thrown, she was off yipping excitedly to herself as she went. I ran off to get the ball then had to trot after her. She stopped at a tree and was circling it still making the occasional yip noise. It did enable me to catch her and put her back on her lead. Walking back, I felt rather warmer than I’d intended to and Kiki was panting, nearly stepping on her tongue at times.

Returning home, Kiki was so tired she let me wash her feet before having a drink and curling up to sleep in the conservatory. I went and showered just finishing my hair when I heard David hit the gong to say lunch was ready. I was pretty well dressed and carefully pulled on a sweater over my shirt.

David had been chopping herbs for the rice dish we had for lunch. He’d combined the rice with sardines, chopped sun dried tomatoes and spring onions with a light olive oil based dressing. It was delicious and told him so. He stood up from the table and took a bow and we all clapped. Seems it doesn’t take much to impress us.

After lunch, I left the kitchen taking a cuppa with me and read for an hour. For a change, I didn’t have my proboscis stuck in a text book or scientific journal, but was reading a book by someone I’d always regarded as a journalist, Martin Sixsmith. Its bright yellow cover announced it was now a major film and was called ‘Philomena —The true story of a mother and the son she had to give away.’ Given my dislike of religious types, I couldn’t see it relaxing my prejudices any time soon.

“Are you collecting the girls, Mummy?” called Jacquie as I was deeply ensconced in my book.

“Oh bugger, is that the time?” I marked my page with a piece of paper and dashed off to collect the unholy trinity.

“You’re late,” declared Trish tapping her foot as she waited just inside the school building.

“So I am, too bad.” I’d decided I wasn’t going to be intimidated by this reincarnation of Isaac Newton.

“Why?”

“I don’t have to answer to you, but for the record I was reading a book and didn’t notice the time.

“What book was so interesting that you forgot the time?” continued the inquisition from Trishquemada.

“Philomena–any the wiser?”

“Didn’t they make a film of it?” asked Livvie, “I saw the posters on the bus shelter.”

“They did and very good it was too,” said Sister Maria walking up beside us.

“Oh,” popped out of my mouth before I could stop it.

“You sound surprised, Lady C?”

“I suppose I am.”

“Why, we’re not all baby selling monsters, so we’re not, ya know.”

“No, I’m sure you’re not.”

“Mummy’s reading the book,” offered Livvie.

“Perhaps I could read it afterwards?”

“I should think that would be very possible.”

“Good day to ya, Lady C, girls.” She moved along the corridor as we departed waving goodbye to her.

“Why was you surpwised by Sista Mawia?”

“Well, Meems, the book is about a mother’s search for her son who was...

The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2206 by Angharad Copyright © 2013 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

---

I hoped it was Saturday. Why? Well partly because Simon was still snoring his head off and the alarm was reading six fifty eight. It would go off in two minutes unless someone prevented it. I slipped out of bed and switched off the alarm, then I went to the bathroom and showered, towelling myself dry before slipping on a bra and panties. I checked he was still asleep. I dressed in my normal uniform of jeans a shirt and a sweater and took Lizzie down with me. I fed her while the kettle boiled the water I needed for a cuppa. I made said cup of tea and once again sat down with the human leach still attached by her sucker to me. There are days when I suspect she’s actually sucked my spine a few inches closer to my sternum or breast bone.

After feeding her, I bathed her and changed her. It was only when I was putting her down that I saw another human. At about seven thirty, Daddy came in with Kiki. At a glance from me, he wiped her feet before he brought her in and I made him some coffee and gave her a biscuit which she crunched all over the kitchen floor. Some days I don’t know why I bother.

“Whit fa’ are ye up sae early?”

“I thought I’d do some work on my script for the harvest mouse film.”

“Och, I thocht ye’d finished it.”

“So did I, but I’ve had some new ideas about how we present it and I need to script them before I forget and share them with Alan.”

“An’ they woke ye up, did they?”

“Yes, Daddy,” I replied making my breakfast of banana on toast, which I took off with me to my study. “If you can amuse the baby for a bit until the others get up–thanks.” I left quickly before he could say no. Not that he would, he loves kids, so it seems fate was so unkind to him to give him just one child who died so young. Then his loss was our gain. If he’d had two or three other children my life would be very different. If his Catherine had remained as a boy or hadn’t died, I wondered how my life would have been. Different doesn’t seem a big enough word, does it?

Then again, if I hadn’t been stricken by this same mania that his child had suffered, it would have been different as well. I might not have had the conflict with my parents or even gone away to university to avoid them and allow me to change into the real me most evenings. I certainly wouldn’t have had the rapport here that I have, in fact I might have not even come here. If I hadn’t been so girly would I have been studying polar bears or blue whales or even chopping up fruit flies rather than the cutest creature on the planet, except maybe kittens–and they grow up into monsters who lay waste the local wildlife. As if to reinforce this point I spotted Bramble stalking a blackbird so I leapt up and banged on the window and the bird escaped just in time. Mind you, the look the cat gave me would have caused me to spontaneously combust had her wishes come true.

Talking of spontaneous combustion, I recalled the bit about King Tut’s body catching fire because they painted the bandages wrapped round it with linseed oil, which can catch fire in air by itself, the oxidation is so vigorous–and there’s me thinking it was just used for making putty, paint or rubbing into cricket bats to weather proof and protect them. Dunno if they do it anymore because they coat them in polyurethane or some such substance. I only know because my dad showed me how to do it when I was a kid in the mistaken belief I was a boy. Tedium didn’t describe it, whereas rubbing cream or oil into a Brooks saddle was another matter. Yeah, okay hardly something the average teenage girl does–but then I wasn’t average, was I?

“Oh, there you are?” Simon poked his head round the door.

“Yes, here I am.” I said looking up then continued tapping the keys on my laptop.

“It’s Saturday, put that away.”

“I’m busy, go and make your breakfast–oh, and more tea please.” I handed him my mug.

“What if the kids come down?”

“You’re their father, cope.”

“Gee thanks, some support you are.”

“You want support get a jockstrap or a bra.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Granted, now go and make that tea.”

“What?”

“Darling you heard me, now go and do it. Well, go on.”

He gave me a funny look, which I only saw reflected in my computer screen, before he left and I hoped made my tea. It would do him good to have contact with the children–he doesn’t do enough with them. That’s how I justified leaving him in the lurch except I was chuckling too much to concentrate on my script.

I reread the email I had about harvest mouse behaviour and the comment on the bottom about the worry that if we had a bad winter there’d be even fewer next year. I supposed the same was true of dormice, it hadn’t been a good year for them with several bad winters and poor summers. This year had been better once the summer got going but they were talking up a bad winter and I so hoped they were wrong. Then, compared to the Philippines, I suppose we had nothing to complain about. Two hundred mile an hour winds–doesn’t bear thinking about.

“Here,” he handed me the cup of tea.

“Thank you, darling.”

“How long are you going to be?”

“Not sure, why?”

“I can hear stirrings upstairs.

“Julie and Phoebe I expect.”

“Oh that’s okay then.”

“Unless it’s the girls. Cate will probably have woken them by now.”

“Oh bugger.”

“Go and enjoy some quality time with them.”

“What?” he sounded terrified.

“It’s hardly like you haven’t done it before is it?”

“I don’t feel confident watching the kids.”

“Why not?”

“What if they have an accident?”

“Why should they?”

“I don’t know, do I?”

“Oh, for god’s sake.” I grumpily switched off my computer and stood up then pushed past him and walked out to the kitchen.

The children were all seated at the table eating their breakfasts except Julie and Phoebe who were eating a slice of toast as they went towards the door.

What took my attention was a large bunch of flowers in the middle of the table. “D’you like your flowers, Mummy?” asked Livvie.

“Why have I got flowers?” They were lovely but I felt like I’d been set up for something.

“For being you,” said Simon putting his arms around me.

I stepped away, “It’s my birthday in a couple of weeks, they could have waited until then.”

“Aren’t you going to put them in water?”

“They’re in water. You disturbed me working. If I did that to you you’d play hell with me.”

“It’s a bit different.”

“Is it? We’re both professionals. I have to do a report for your bank, do you want me to turn up at the next meeting saying I didn’t have time because my husband kept interrupting me?”

“Of course not but...”

“But nothing. They’re lovely, but it could have waited until I finished working.”

“Aren’t you at least impressed that the children are sitting and eating their breakfasts?”

“No, they do this every morning–they’d have got yours if you asked them.”

“I can’ do right for doing wrong, can I?”

He does this to me all the time. One of these days I really will dot him one, but not today.

“Thank you for my flowers, put the kettle on Danni, looks like I’m here to stay...” Simon’s face lit up like a lamp. He’s really just a little boy but he’s got to learn I deserve some space as well.

The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2207 by Angharad Copyright © 2013 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

---

“What would you like to do today?” Simon smiled at me as I sipped my tea. What was going on? My birthday isn’t for two weeks, well maybe ten days. I looked at the kitchen clock, it gives the date and day as well as the time. Today was Saturday the twenty third, seven more days of the month then three to my birthday–yep, ten days.

“Why all the fuss? You only have to wait ten more days until my birthday, so someone please explain what is going on?”

“Yes, you’ve been voted mum of the year.”

“By whom?”

“Everyone in the house.”

“What about Stella?”

“She was runner up.”

“There’s only one mummy. You’re the best.” Livvie wrapped her arms round my waist and hugged me.

“Simon, what the hell is going on?”

“It’s be kind to Cathy day.”

“Why?”

“We all decided you needed being loved.”

“I know I’m loved.”

“Yes we know that too, but showing it–well we don’t do it often enough.”

“You do, you are all very generous and I’m very grateful, but today is Saturday, that’s all. So can we stop all this messing about and get on with normal life please. Now I’d like you all to go and write a list of the presents you’d like, small things as well as bigger ones and keep them real. No particle accelerator, please, Trish.”

“Oh poo, what about a Tardis?”

“The Doctor is still using his.”

“It’s all fake anyway.”

“It’s a tv show, Trish.”

“I know, it’s on tonight and your favourite is in it.”

“What are you on about?”

“David Tennant is in it.”

“Is he?” I hadn’t noticed. The last thing I’d watched was a documentary about Tutankhamun, so I was hardly up on these things.

“Yes, this one has three doctors in it?”

“You don’t mean Casualty, do you?”

“No, silly Mummy, we mean Dr Who.”

“How can there be three doctors?”

“I don’t know, do I? We’ll have to watch and find out.”

“I suppose we will, won’t we?”

“Here,” Trish flashed her iPad at me, “there’s stuff about it on the BBC website.”

“Why don’t you read it and tell me later. I have shopping to do.”

“Can I come?” came as a crescendo of voices from several sources.

“Children,” said Simon firmly. “I have a car waiting to collect those who’d like to go to the hotel for a swim or use of the gym.”

“Me please,” once again assailed us.

“Right, so who wants to go shopping?”

“Me,” I said but there were no other takers.

“And who wants to go to the hotel?”

It was a no brainer. He clicked on his phone, “Come and get them when you’re ready.” Then to the children, “Get your costumes ready.”

The ran off before he’d finished speaking, except Danni who was suddenly aware of her shortcomings. I’d got her a swimming costume, which I thought she’d worn, perhaps not. I went upstairs with her and after a couple of minutes of thinking I’d put it safe and would never find it again, I found it in her chest of drawers.

“Tuck yourself back and the panty bit should hold you secure enough not for anyone to notice. It’s got preformed cups so, it will give you some shape, as will the skirt around the hips. Use this towel–if you change now like the others, you won’t have to worry about the changing room for a bit. It’s all cubicles anyway, so it should be okay. Don’t forget to take your bra and panties for coming home, and take a brush or a comb too.”

“Thanks, Mummy.”

“Keep an eye on the younger ones, won’t you?”

“Yes, Mummy. Pity Cindy couldn’t come.”

“Not this time, maybe another.”

“Okay, I’ll change.” I left her to it.

Downstairs I asked who was looking after Cate and Lizzie–I know it should be Cate and Sidney–and Simon said he’d asked Jacquie. He then told me to wear what I would for shopping and to get myself ready.

“Who’s looking after the girls at the hotel?”

“Dad and Monica, so go and get ready–now.”

“Alright, I’m going.” Upstairs I made sure they’d all packed a towel and their underwear. Kids tend to forget especially in the heat of the moment. It was cold but fine, so I changed into a thick skirt and boots with a camisole over my bra and long sleeved polo-neck jumper. It was just a question of a quick bit of makeup and my watch and I was ready.

The car arrived, Henry in his Mercedes and the children rushed out to see him. He waved to us and a moment later he was off with three of our girls. I got my jacket on while Cate was busy playing dolls with Jacquie and we slipped away in my car with Simon driving to go to Winchester.

“Why are we going there?”

“Because it’s somewhere different, that’s why, now shut up and enjoy.”

“I wish you’d told me about this.”

“It wouldn’t have been a surprise then would it?”

“I don’t always like surprises.”

“I’ve noticed.”

“I don’t wish to seem ungrateful but...”

“So shut up then. In answer to the question you want to ask but haven’t so far. Dad said he might be available on Saturday but wasn’t sure until this morning. He rang just after you went downstairs.”

“You were awake?”

“Not until you shut the door so noisily.”

I glared at him, I’d shut the door quietly.

“I was just about to get up when he called so I had to speak to Jacquie before the rest was possible.”

“What would you have done if they hadn’t wanted to go to the hotel?”

“I knew they would.”

“How did you know?”

“I asked them, alright, but told them to act as if they wanted to go shopping with you first. I told them we were playing a game.”

I wasn’t sure if I admired his forward planning or resented being on the outside of his surprise. It’s true, I don’t like surprises, they’re usually only half thought through, so this was a double surprise.

“So why the flowers?”

“I need a reason to buy my wife flowers?”

“No, but you haven’t bought me any recently.”

“I just did.”

I decided not to pursue the conversation. “I need to start some Christmas shopping for the children. Though I don’t know what they want as yet, but some ideas of what is about will be useful.”

“I have a list,” Simon fished a piece of paper from his pocket.

“Oh well she hasn’t actually asked for a radio telescope or scanning electron microscope,” I said after casting my eye over the list.

“No that’s on her birthday list, apparently.”

“Perhaps Manchester will sell her Jodrell Bank.”

“Where will Brian Cox be able to flap his arms about if they do?”

“Okay, perhaps she’ll settle for one on Hawaii or Chile.”

“She’s eight years old, Cathy.”

“She has got an astronomical telescope on the list.”

“Yeah, a toy one will do.”

“With Go-to technology?”

“She didn’t ask for that, did she?”

“She did.”

“This could get expensive then?”

“Just a bit–I think we need to get an astronomy magazine and see what’s available, or speak to someone about the best sort of telescope we can get for a child.”

“Why couldn’t we have ordinary children?”

“Where’s the challenge in that?” I asked.

“Ha bloody ha.”

The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2208 by Angharad Copyright © 2013 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

---

“Thank you for a nice lunch,” I said kissing Simon. He’d had a couple of glasses of wine so I got to drive back. I didn’t buy anything nor see anything I wanted to buy, so it was a wasted day, save for the fact it was just the two of us together for a day out, not something we do very often.

It was just getting dark as we arrived home to a much depleted household. Phoebe and Julie were not back from the salon, The girls weren’t back from the hotel and according to Stella, Jacquie had taken Cate and Lizzie out for some fresh air.

“It’s getting cold, when did they go out?” I asked my sister in law who was busy switching on the kettle for tea.

“What time is it now, four o’clock, must be two hours ago.”

“Two hours? What the hell is she doing out for two hours with little ones? It’s getting cold out there.”

“I don’t know, do I?”

“Did she tell you where she was going?”

“No.”

“Did she take any stale bread with her?”

“I don’t know, do I?”

“Okay. I’m going to change.” I rushed upstairs and five minutes later I was down again getting my thick duffel coat off the coat rack.

“I’ve just made tea.”

“I’m going looking for them.”

“Want me to come?” asked Simon.

“Might be an idea.”

“Okay let me grab a sweater.”

“Want to take the car?”

“Not really, we could cover more ground but if she was on foot, it might be easier to find her if we do the same.”

“Okay,” he replied shoving his hands into his pockets, “Damn, it’s colder than I thought.”

I was trying to tune into Jacquie but I wasn’t having much success. We got to the end of the drive. “Which way, kemosabe?” asked my intrepid companion.

“I don’t know.” I pulled out my little torch and shone it along the ground.

“Six men on horseback pass this way two days ago,” offered my stand in Tonto.

“This way,” I said pointing towards town.

“How d’you know that?”

“Because instead of making silly comments I was looking for clues.”

“Did you find any?”

“Yes, fresh tracks of the pram heading this way.”

“Well done you, you’re a regular girl guide, aren’t you?”

“No, I’m a biologist, though it’s generally easier tracking mammals in the countryside than town.”

“What with all those trees in the way?”

“C’mon, we’re wasting time.”

“Lead on Macduff.”

“It’s actually, ‘Lay on Macduff,’ why does everyone get the quotation wrong?”

“They’re not as punctilious as you.”

“Perhaps.”

We walked for maybe three hundred yards when I saw signs of where the pram had pushed over a grass verge and down towards a field.

“Why are we going down here?”

“Because this is where the pram came.”

“You’re joking?”

“No. Have you got your mobile with you?”

“Yeah, in my pocket, why?”

“Because I forgot mine. Call Jacquie will you?”

“If I can get a signal.”

“You should.”

I heard his phone pipping as it dialled. “She’s not answering.”

“Okay, we go for a little way longer and we call the police. Call Stella will you and tell her to let you know if they turn up at home.”

He did as I asked. “They haven’t so far.”

“There’s something not right here, isn’t there?” I remarked. We’d passed a patch of soft ground and the tracks hadn’t shown up nor were there any in the grass, yet our feet were leaving tracks.

“What do we do now?” asked Simon, clutching his phone.

“I don’t know, go back I suppose and get the experts out.”

“The police?”

“Yes, if she’s in a field somewhere the helicopter should find her.”

“You getting a bad feeling about this?” he asked putting his arm through mine.

“I’m not getting any feeling, that’s even more frightening.”

“Let’s get home.” We practically ran home and Stella once more switched on the kettle, I got the cordless phone and called the police.

Within half an hour we had a car in the drive and I heard the helicopter overhead. It was both frightening and reassuring at the same time.

The policewoman took details of when we’d last seen her and so on, I found a picture of Cate and Jacquie but didn’t have one of Lizzie. In the back of my mind was that something had happened to all three of them. But what?

A dog handler arrived and I found clothing from Jacquie’s room, from Cate’s and from the baby’s. The dogs sniffed them and off they went noses to the ground.

“You say this youngest one is the daughter of a Neal Allen, he couldn’t have come to get her, could he?”

“The last time I saw him he couldn’t find his way to the bathroom on his own let alone to Portsmouth.”

“I’ve called the clinic, he’s still there and not very well,” reported Simon.

“Could they have been abducted?” Stella asked the young copper.

“Given your position, they could have been.”

“For a ransom?”

She shrugged.

“But two of them are only babies,” I protested.

“People who do that sort of thing don’t necessarily worry about such things.”

“What about this Jacquie, is she safe with the kids?”

I blushed and dared either of Stella or Simon to say anything. “She’s taken them out dozens of times. She’s unofficially adopted by us, so she’s family. I’m sure she’d do her best to avoid them coming to harm.” I wished I felt as confident as I sounded.

I made and drank more tea, as did the two coppers. Headlights appeared in the drive. It was Henry. “How’s it going?”

“Still nothing,” I said, “Thanks for keeping the others with you at the hotel.”

“I came for some extra clothes.”

I went upstairs with him and between us we packed four sets of clothing. He took the two cases downstairs with him. “I’m sure it’ll be okay, let me know when they find them–if I can help meanwhile–you have my number.”

I gave him a huge hug and burst into tears.

“Hey, you’ve got to be strong. They’ll be alright, you’ll see.”

“So where are they?”

“I don’t know, Cathy. I wish I did.”

“If anyone harms them, Henry...”

“Let’s keep positive, shall we?”

“Okay,” I sniffed. “Take care of the others, won’t you?”

“With my life.” He pecked me on the cheek and left.

“D’you leave them often with Jacquie?”

“When I’m working I do.”

“Where’s that?”

“The university.”

“What d’you do there?”

“I teach.”

She nodded. “All these children yours?”

“They’re all adopted–I can’t have my own.”

She nodded.

More lights in the drive indicated the arrival of Julie and Phoebe. “What’s happening, Mummy?” asked Julie seeing the police.

“Jacquie went out with Cate and Lizzie, at about two o’clock, she hasn’t come back yet?”

“What? It’s six o’clock and freezing out there.”

“They’ve got Lizzie?” gasped Phoebe.

“We don’t know what has happened, only that they’re missing at the moment. The police are out looking for them.”

“The helicopter,” said Julie, “that’s why it’s flitting about here?”

“Yes, it can cover much more area than anything else. There’s also two police dogs out looking for them.”

“If they want to form a search party, we’ll come,” said Julie and Phoebe agreed.

“Let’s hope they find them soon,” I said and hugged the two girls.

“What about food?” asked Stella.

“God, I couldn’t eat at a time like this,” said Julie and Phoebe nodded. My own sense of appetite had diminished to zilch as well. Even Simon shook his head.

“Might be a good idea, Lady Cameron, gives you something to do and you might need it, it’s going to be a long night.”

The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2209 by Angharad Copyright © 2013 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

---

I was busy making bread–the machine was going to be–I was filling it with various ingredients in the hope that come breakfast, I might feel more like eating. I thought I heard my mobile peep for a text. Assuming it was one of the hotel mob, I picked it up and opened it up.

‘Message from Jacquie’ it said. I opened the message. ‘We’re ok. Jx’

I sent a text back asking where she was. I received no reply. I went and saw the policewoman who called her superior. He wasn’t long in arriving.

“I’ve spoken to your network and as far as we can ascertain, it was her phone that was used, but it was too short to check for positioning.”

“In other words anyone with access to her phone could have sent it?”

“In a word, yes. I’m sorry. It might mean she’s okay, it might mean anything.”

“I’m really worried about the little one. The milk I expressed has been used but she’s not eating solids yet, so she might be hungry.”

“We’re doing all we can. The trail seems to have gone cold.”

“I know you are, I’m sorry, just very worried.”

“I’m sure you are. This girl, Jacquie, wouldn’t have harmed them would she?”

“No.”

“You know about her previous life because we arrested an ex colleague over it.”

“I know all about it and she was set up. I am sure she hasn’t done anything to harm them.”

“I had to ask you the question.”

“Fine.” I switched on the bread machine.

“Nice machine, my wife uses one, a smaller version than that.”

“Size is important when you have to feed the five thousand.”

“Ah yes, I see your meaning. If that’s it, I’ll speak with you later, Lady Cameron. If you have any further communication from Jacquie, let us know immediately–and I mean immediately, time is of the essence.”

“D’you think she sent it?” I asked.

“I don’t know at this stage.”

“Cate is crying,” I said.

“She very possibly is.”

“She is, I heard her.”

“Look, why don’t you go and have a lie down, you look all done in.”

“You don’t understand.”

“No I don’t.”

“Simon,” I called and he came rushing into the kitchen.

“What’s up, babes?”

“I heard Cate crying.”

“What outside?” he walked towards the door.

“No, inside–inside here.” I indicated my heart.

“I suggested your wife should take a rest, Lord Cameron.”

“I heard her–there she goes again.”

“I couldn’t hear anything, babes.”

“Of course not, you’re not her mother. Oh bugger, I’m leaking. Excuse me, Inspector, I need to express some milk. She’ll need it, that little Lizzie.” I shooed them out of the kitchen and began expressing the milk. I hear her crying again this time there were two voices. I knew they were still alive but I needed them to show me where they were.

I sat with my eyes closed listening and pumping the milk out of my swollen breasts. I tried to visualise where they were but all I got was blackness. That frightened me for a moment then I realised it was dark outside, so things would be dark, wouldn’t they?

Did this mean they were outside somewhere? Was Jacquie alright? It was so confusing. I continued to express. The cries continued, so why couldn’t I tune into them? I cursed my bad luck then seemed to wonder if I was doing things wrongly.

I put the two small bottles of milk into the fridge and heard the cries again. I walked to the sink and rinsed my equipment and heard them again. I worked out what I needed to do. The babies were calling to me. A shiver ran up and down my spine. I needed to hurry.

I put my shoes back on and got my old coat from the utility room. It was very thick and warm. I also pulled on my old woolly hat and some gloves, grabbed my handbag including my phone and LED torch and slipped out of the door. So far so good. I headed up though the orchard, the moon being light enough for me to see where I was going. In the distance I heard the helicopter still searching for my family. I hoped they were still okay. I’d taken a drink before I left so by the time I found them, the churns should be filling up again–I had spare pads in my bag just in case and a couple of disposable nappies. Not exactly eco friendly, but these were desperate times.

Once clear of the house, I stood quietly and listened. I walked towards the crying. Half an hour later, I was heading towards the town centre pausing before picking my direction. Once I must have been distracted because I had to go back on myself. On occasions the traffic noise made it difficult to distinguish direction but once in the back streets of old Portsmouth town, it was relatively quiet.

I walked past a house and the cries stopped. I turned to my right, then right again and walked back. After about twenty yards, they sounded behind me. I turned and retraced my steps. The cries stopped abruptly again. I stepped sideways to face the house and they sounded in front of me. It was ten o’clock and I knew where my babies were. I’d have to prove it before the plod would help me and that would require a combination of sleight of hand and old fashioned brute force. I wondered how many people were in the house. I couldn’t know without entering and counting them and anything could happen if I did get in.

I noted the name of the street and number of the house. I programmed my phone to send the details to Simon with the message - HELP! at the press of a button. Now to continue my reconnaissance.

Two houses further on I turned into another side street and to my delight there was a lane behind the houses, I quickly walked down the lane and counted the houses along. The door to the garden or yard was locked and the wall was at least six feet high. I tired the gardens on either side, those doors were locked as well.

The houses were large Victorian terraced ones with three storeys. I certainly wasn’t planning on climbing up any dirt pipes on this occasion. To start with I couldn’t effect an entry into the garden let alone the house. Just as I was about to feel despair again a cat walked up to me and wrapped itself around my legs. I absently stroked it and it purred then walked ahead of me as if waiting for me. When I hesitated it came back and encouraged me to follow it. Was it trying to tell me something? It stopped and sat at garden door as if waiting for me to open it for her. I lifted the latch and the door opened, and in the moonlight I could see the dividing walls were much lower. I was going to stroke my helper but she’d disappeared.

I felt alone again then spotted her on the dividing wall I made my way towards her and pulled myself over it and crossed the garden. She trotted off to the next wall showing me where to scramble over it. A security light came on and I dived behind a bush. I saw a curtain move and the cat walked back across the garden. The door opened and a male voice said, “Oh it’s some bloody cat. Go away puss.” I reckoned I had one more garden to cross before I was in the right one. Unfortunately, that was the one with the dog in it.

The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2210 by Angharad Copyright © 2013 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

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I watched as the cat walked across the back wall, the one with the door in it, waiting in the middle as if to encourage me to follow. It would be just my luck to be half way across when someone came out of the house. But it would be the only way to beat the dog, only I’m not that good at heights and walking along a six foot wall which was about eight inches wide, in the dark, was not my idea of fun.

The cat miaowed at me as if to hurry and I had to trust its judgement–now I really am cracking up. Since when have cats been better at risk assessment than humans? Gingerly, I stepped onto the wall and made my way up onto the back wall, constantly aware that down below me was a large dog who was doing his best to will me to fall off, preferably on his side so he could attack me. Several times he jumped up at the wall which thankfully was too high for him to reach me.

To me walking across the thirty or forty feet of wall was equivalent to a tightrope walk. Hands held out I tried to concentrate on walking upright and focused on the far end. I was exhausted when I reached the other side and scrambled down into the garden of the house I wanted to investigate.

I checked the garden door and it was bolted. As a precaution, in the event of a hasty retreat, I unbolted the door and eased it open. The cat having fulfilled its part of the mission, withdrew to sit on the wall and watch me. Exactly what it was watching me for, I wasn’t sure as I was making this up as I went along.

I found a path and walked up to the house to try and see if I could find any evidence that my intuition had been correct. The house appeared to be in darkness with only a thin ribbon of light around the edge of a curtain. Could my babies and Jacquie be in there?

Stepping close to a door I listened. The only noise I could hear, apart from the beating of my heart, was distant traffic. I found a window of a basement or cellar and kneeling down tried to see into it. It was dark and all I could see was my own faint reflection.

What if I’d made a mistake? It would get very embarrassing rather quickly and Simon would be furious, not to mention Henry. I felt much less confident about the whole thing than I had even fifteen minutes ago.

I asked the energy that had guided me here to show me that I was in the right place, not really expecting anything to happen. I tried to see my watch but the moonlight wasn’t sufficient–how long had I been here? Goodness knows.

I was straining every sense as I waited for something to tell me I was at the right house when I heard it. Then again. I strained my already overworked ears. It was definitely a child’s voice–could it be Cate?

“I want my mummy.” That’s what it sounded like, but I wasn’t sure, it could have been pure wishful thinking. For all I knew I was hearing some kid talking to their granny or even their parent.

Then a woman’s voice said, “You, make her shut up and Jacquie’s voice replied to her. At least it sounded enough like Jacquie’s voice for me to send for the cavalry. I pressed send and my phone peeped that it had gone.

“What was that?” said the woman’s voice.

And I had to move quickly to avoid being seen when she let up a roller blind on the basement window. Through the gloom of the dirty window I couldn’t see very much except there was more than one person in that room. I needed an entry point.

A couple of minutes later I heard a door open and out bounded a dog–yeah, another bloody dog. It spotted me almost immediately and it ran up to me. I stood stock still and imagined healing light flowing into me, when it then came up and sniffed me I released a large burst of energy and the dog fell over backwards and started crying to go back in, pawing at the door.

I followed it and it began whining more loudly, I held onto the door handle and as the woman twisted it to open she received a jolt of juice which caused her to jump and let go. I pulled it open and stood in the doorway.

“Who are you?”

“You have three of my children, I’ve come to rescue them.”

“What? Get out of my house, Rover, get her.”

The dog stood behind her shaking with fright. I stepped into the house and shut the door. “I’ve called the police, they’ll be here any moment.”

“Liar.”

“So far I’m going to have you charged with unlawful detention of two children and an adult. Quite why you have them, I hope you’ll tell me, because at the moment my feelings towards you are entirely prejudicial–and for you, that is not a good place to be.”

“Who are you?”

“A very angry mother, who are you, besides a kidnapper and child abductor.”

“What children are those then?”

“The ones in the basement.”

“I ain’t got no children.”

“You have, three of mine. Release them immediately.”

“I ain’t, follow me, I’ll show ya.”

I was aware that she could be up to some sort of trick but recovery of my children was paramount especially as the little ones wouldn’t have eaten for several hours. I followed her through a relatively modern, if cheap kitchenette, down a corridor and a short flight of stairs to a heavy door which she unbolted and opened.

“Jacquie?” I shouted and heard a sort of muffled response.

I then made the mistake of stepping into the room whereupon she shoved me hard and slammed the door behind me. I heard a faint laugh and that was it. I pulled out my torch and saw the three of them. Jacquie was tied up and gagged hence the muffled sound, Cate was cuddling beside her and tied up by a foot to a chair. The baby was asleep in her pram.

I shone the torch around, there was a light but no switch, so it was obviously outside the room. With my penknife I released Jacquie and Cate who hugged me and cried. When they’d calmed down I decided the priority was to feed the two little ones. I told Cate, Lizzie had to be first because she was so small. I’m not sure my argument carried too much weight, certainly not in Cate’s eyes. However, I picked up Lizzie and pulled her to my breast. She suckled like she hadn’t been fed for weeks. Then I gave Cate a turn and I’m sure my nipples were an inch longer than before she sucked on them.

I drew the line at inviting Jacquie to follow suit.

“What happened?”

“We were in the park and this woman walking her dog came and sat by us. She spoke to us and especially Cate. She told us her dog had just had puppies and did we want to see them.”

“And you did?”

“It was getting a bit cold, so I agreed. Cate was very excited. Then she shut us in here and next thing I know she’s tied me up and a short time ago she gagged me. I knew you’d come and rescue us, Mummy.”

That was the plan, or to keep them safe while Simon made a full frontal assault with the long arm of the law. Except it’s now twenty odd minutes since I sent that text, maybe even half an hour–where are they?

I looked at my phone–I couldn’t get a signal–oh poo.

The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2211 by Angharad Copyright © 2013 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

---

“What do we do now, Mummy?” asked Jacquie.

“I sent Simon a text before I got in here, I’m hoping he’ll be on his way shortly.”

“What if he didn’t get it?”

“We use plan B.”

“What’s that, Mummy?”

“I’m still working on it, darling.”

“Oh.”

I examined the door. There was no handle on the inside, so I couldn’t unscrew the lock and fiddle with it. It would have to be the window or Simon. We’d never get the pram out of it anyway, but that was something we could resolve later.

The room was approximately twelve feet by twelve with a door at one end and a window at the other. The window was set some five feet above the ground and looked out up to the garden which was a couple of feet higher. It didn’t look as if it was able to be opened. At least it was a wooden frame, so I could try and dig us out with my Swiss Army knife. That copper was right when she said it was going to be a long night.

I saved the torch for emergency use as we didn’t know how long we’d be stuck there, but even Simon surely checks his phone now and again. I stood on the chair to which Jacquie had been secured and began digging away at the beading holding the glass in place.

Cate wanted to cuddle me, but obviously I was otherwise engaged so she had a quick paddy, then exhausted cuddled with Jacquie and fell asleep. My hands were hurting, when I stopped to rest my aching arms and shoulders. I was working on the top of the glass which I could barely reach. I shared a small chocolate bar I had with Jacquie then got back to my task.

I stopped to rest again. My shoulders were really hurting and I didn’t think my hands would ever recover, but I only had one side to do to clear the beading and hopefully lift out the glass. I had a feeling that it was toughened or plate glass, so breaking it would be difficult.

“Did she say why she kidnapped you?” I asked, trying to distract myself from my pains.

“Not really, she just admired the two girls.”

“I wonder what her game is and if anyone else is involved?”

I got back to my woodworking. Finally, I’d cleared it, all round the edge. Got Jacquie to come closer and tried to lever it out. It was probably stuck to the paint on the outside. I tried again and this time there was movement–the blade of my knife snapped and shot across the room, pinging somewhere near the door. That upset me and I hit the glass with the flat of my hand and swore at it. Nothing happened of course except, standing down on the ground again I burst into tears, I felt so frustrated.

I recovered quite quickly and tried to plot a new strategy. There were two wooden chairs, w might need one to escape if in daylight we could lever the glass out. The other we could break the legs off and use them as clubs should there be other people involved.

Breaking the legs off proved harder than I thought it would, but finally we had a club each. The object would be to drive the woman or anyone else who she had with her back through the door and to jam a piece of wood into the jam of the door to stop it closing. It was good in theory at any rate. I would do the attacking, Jacquie would jam the door.

We sat down together on the floor and exhaustion overwhelmed me, the door was yanked open and the light was blinding. “Cathy?” called a familiar voice.

“Where have you been?” I accused my husband.

“I didn’t get your text until half an hour ago,” he defended.

“I sent it hours ago.”

“Yeah, well if you’d said where you were going, it might have happened sooner.”

“Did you get the woman and her stupid dog?”

“They took someone into custody, I think. I’d have thought you’d have escaped by now.”

“What, through a steel door?”

“Oh yeah,” my observant husband commented tapping the lining of the door.

He picked up the sleeping Cate and handed her to me then he gently lifted the pram with a copper and they carried the somnolent Lizzie up the steps. I followed, the door slamming shut behind me. Moments later there was a tremendous crash and a copper dashed back down to the room to see what had happened. Jacquie and I just laughed.

“What’s so funny?” asked Simon.

“I spent all night trying to dig that sheet of glass out of the frame, even broke my penknife, didn’t I, Jac?” She nodded her assent. “And the bloody thing just fell out with the draught from the door closing–wonderful.”

“Be grateful, if it had fallen on you...”

“Yeah, okay.”

It was four o’clock when we got home and I had a cuppa and went to bed after changing Lizzie and giving her a small feed. It was after ten when I woke up. My hands were still very tender though the shower did ease my aching shoulders and arms. I dressed and downstairs was assailed by dozens of questions, but mostly, how did I find them? Then, what was I going to tell the police?

The police came for their statements and I thanked them for rescuing us, which took them aback for a moment. When I told them I heard my children crying to me, they wouldn’t believe me. It was even suggested I was in league with the old woman. When that was said I had to step between Simon and the officer who said it.

“I’m very intuitive,” I said to the detective sergeant who was accusing me.

“Sure you are, so how come you didn’t see it coming then?”

“Much the same way you didn’t see the truck coming which killed your colleague, even though you were driving.”

“What d’you mean?”

“Back in ninety two, you pulled your Rover out into traffic too busy watching the suspect you were tailing and didn’t see the large lorry speeding towards you.”

“I was acquitted of any unlawful action.”

“Tell that to Jerry.”

“Oh yeah, how do I do that? He’s dead.”

“He’s standing behind you and he doesn’t look too pleased. You were supposed to help Tammy his wife and his children, but you didn’t, did you? You just left them to their own devices because you were too busy screwing your boss’s wife. Does Pam know about that?”

“Who told you all that? I’ll sue them and you.”

“Please do, Jerry would love it all to come out in open court, he’s telling me about a couple of other things you got up to.”

“He’s dead, you lying bitch. He’s fuckin’ dead.”

“So he couldn’t possibly tell me about your share of the stuff that got taken from a jeweller’s shop the year before he died. You both did quite well out of that and a previous heist the previous January. Oh yes, you bought your cottage in Crete on the proceeds of that, didn’t you?”

“Is this true, Mitchell?” asked his Chief Inspector.

“No, it’s all lies.”

“Jerry told me to tell you that keeping the mantle clock from the raid on the antique clock place was a mistake and that he told you that at the time.”

“I bought that clock.”

“Jerry doesn’t agree with you and the serial number underneath it should match it with a robbery in nineteen eighty nine.”

“Check it, Smithers,” the CI barked then suspended his sergeant, taking him into temporary custody while they searched his house.

A little later he came to speak with me. “That was quite impressive.”

“When it works it is.”

“Did Jerry really tell you all that?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll never be able to use it in court.”

“No, but if you find the clock and can link it, he’ll probably cough it all up. If not threaten to send for Jerry and me.”

“So you really did just find them, like dowsing for water?”

“Sort of, whenever I faced the right direction the children’s voices got louder.”

“Fascinating, and these were your children’s voices?”

“No, they were the voices of children who’ve been hurt or killed in this town over the centuries and didn’t want to see any further harm come to two more babies.”

“Jeezuz, that’s pretty deep–an’ you can still sleep seeing all this?”

“Yes. Normally I don’t see or hear any of it.”

“Fascinating.”

“Why did she kidnap them?”

“She says she doesn’t know, the plan came to her and she did it.”

“Ask her about her Uncle Dick.”

“Is this another of your intuitions?”

I nodded. “He abducted a little boy called Geoffrey Cummings in nineteen fifty one. The boy died and he’s buried in that garden under an apple tree.”

“Bloody Nora,” exclaimed the CI.

“He also sexually abused her.”

“And that excuses it?”

“Nothing excuses it, Chief Inspector, but it helps to explain it.”

“So she was going to abuse your two was she?”

“I don’t know, but I suspect she needs a psychiatrist more than a jailer.”

“I hate bent coppers,” said Simon sipping a cup of coffee some time after the police left.

“Yeah, they jam the slots in the toilet doors*, don’t they?” I replied.

“What?” he gasped and we both started laughing.

*Public conveniences used to have a coin slot operated door — hence the expression, spending a penny.

The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2212 by Angharad Copyright © 2013 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

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“At last,” I declared loudly and felt like dancing round the room.

“Whit?” asked Tom as he tucked into a boiled egg.

“They’re stopping the badger cull, Natural England have revoked the licence. ’Bout bloody time.”

“Aye, t’wis a mistake frae thae beginnin’, an’ we telt them sae.”

“I certainly did.”

“Aye weel ’am pleased tae see something’ pleases ye.”

“Lots of things please me.”

Aye, sure they dae. Whit happened tae thon dug?”

“What dog?”

“At thae hoose.”

“Oh, that dog, RSPCA have it I suppose. The old biddy’s in the local loony bin.”

“Are ye pressin’ charges?”

“No and after talking to Jacquie she isn’t either, she just wants to forget the whole thing.”

“Ye takked her oot o’ it ye mean?”

“No, I didn’t talk her out of anything. Remember she has long experience of being incarcerated herself and given the woman’s age and mental condition, it wouldn’t be the right thing to do.”

“Even though she abducted twa o’ yer bairns?”

“Yes. I spoke to both of them and they weren’t in favour of prosecuting her either.”

Tom shook his head, “Ye’re as mad as a hatter.”

“All I know you taught me.”

“Ach, I shud hae ken’d when I said that it wud come back tae haunt me.”

I smiled, “I still haven’t done any Christmas shopping.”

“Sae, I suppose ye want me tae babysit?”

“Oh, Daddy, that is so sweet of you to offer–they’ve all been fed. Meems will help if you need to change Lizzie and Stella’s upstairs too.”

“I’ve been had,” he said and I smirked and kissed him on the cheek.

“But in the nicest possible way.”

“Och, ye scunner.”

Jacquie and I traipsed round the hard pavements of Gun Wharf Quay and the only money I spent was on a sandwich and a cuppa for each of us. I saw nothing I just had to buy. It was looking increasingly like a difficult Christmas.

It’s my own fault, we’ve spoilt the kids. How many eight or nine year olds have their own iPads? See what I mean? Having said that, they seem to have more idea of how to use them than I do.

They had electronic gadgets, bicycles, dolls, board games, clothes–in short they had pretty well everything. I was tempted to buy one of those gift aid things from Oxfam, your prezzie is a goat in an African village. They’d demand to go and see it and who could blame them.

Simon and I agreed not to buy each other anything this year. Neither of us needs anything and we have the money to buy it even if we do. But the children, I have no idea what to get them.

Jacquie did point out a Kindle thing in Waterston’s; but they have the apps on their iPads, so hardly need another piece of gadgetry just so I can spend money on them. The unfortunate thing is, while they are all pretty bright, they’re only kids so will be upset if I don’t get them something.

Trish has been using the microscope I got for her which is encouraging. I showed her how to culture Paramecia from pond water and cut grass. It takes a few days but they are fascinating to watch. I make her respect that they are living things and we wash the slides off in the garden pond when we finish.

Paramecia are called slipper animalcules because early microscopists thought they looked like slippers swimming about in the water using microscopic hairs called cilia. They’re fascinating to use and I was brought up on looking at these under microscopes when a school kid. It was seeing things under microscopes or through telescopes which encouraged my curiosity about the natural world.

(Picture courtesy of wikipedia.)

Probably too squeamish to make a laboratory based biologist–I’m bad enough chopping carrots for dinner let alone live animals, just to see how they work, I studied biology which didn't require such things. I remember in a talk on Alfred Russel Wallace, the speaker described Wallace’s wonder at seeing all these birds and mammals in the tropics, ‘and what did he do? Shot ’em.’ He was a collector after all and he got paid for it. But it struck me as sad that this still happens. A photo isn’t enough, science requires specimens, especially rare ones. Too bad if it’s the last one alive.

So now everyone knows why I took up ecology, got sick of chopping up white rats or other animals. Instead of the gruesome stuff, I count dormice–much more fun, though I still have a large collection of microscope slides I made during the time I did have to dissect things and stain them after slicing them with a microtome. I might have mentioned I used to do them for other kids because I was quite good at it–made a bit of pin money at it too.

I don’t know if students have to draw things anymore because digital cameras and equipment are so reliable. Trish has a microscope she can attach to her computer which displays on screen what is being looked at. Stills or videos can be made of them and presumably the former can be printed off. Easy peasy–until you’re out in the field sans computer and camera and you need to make some sort of representation of the wonderful thing you’ve found which will get you your first Nobel prize–you just have to draw it very carefully.

My drawing is not good, but at least I can make some effort to show what I saw using a pencil and pad. The downside is that a drawing is an interpretation and those can be wrong, whereas the camera, assuming no messing with the image, is an objective illustration from which queries can be more easily explored than in a drawing.

Jacquie seemed to cope quite well after her unfortunate experiences in the cellar, she was more concerned for the two little ones than for herself, which demonstrates my unequivocal support that she was innocent of the murder of which she was convicted and later the conviction was ruled unsafe and quashed by the appeal court. Sadly, she spent years in institutions before she was released on parole–which we had quashed as well as the original conviction, finding the police officer who investigated the case was the victim’s father which was not declared at the time of the original investigation and trial.

Cate being so young was unaware of the danger they were in seeing it as a game rather than a serious situation. I won’t disabuse her of this until she’s significantly older.

The police excavated under the old apple tree and found human remains which were consistent with the body of a small boy. The crime was too far back for anyone related to the victim to be contacted. Simon and I agreed to act as family for the unfortunate child and help to organise a funeral for him when the body was released by the authorities. They were unable to identify a cause of death, but burying anyone in a domestic garden requires special permission and there is no record of it being granted at that property.

Returning home I wondered about the children’s or child’s voice that called me to the house–could it have been the unfortunate Geoffrey Cummings, or was the old lady so haunted with memories of past sins at that house, she unconsciously arranged for me to go there by kidnapping my kids?

Who knows?

The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2213 by Angharad Copyright © 2013 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

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I woke up and realised it was Sunday. Fine, Sundays are okay–yeah, except this one is the first day of the final month of the year. Yeah, so what? It’s two days before I’m thirty years old. Jesus H Christ, how can I be thirty in two days. Instead of lying there saying, “White Rabbits,” don’t ask why, it’s superstition, I was thinking, ‘Oh shit.’

Sometimes when I think of the things that have happened to me, I should be white haired and aged about ninety, if I wrote this as a biography no one would believe me and I wouldn’t blame them. My life does seem to be slightly incident prone. Why I have no idea, unless the Chinese curse stuff (more superstition) is right, and I was wished an interesting life.

Would I change any of it? Apart from one item, the death of my daughter Billie, and perhaps getting my gender and sex right from conception would be another. I feel I missed out on a girlhood, something I’m trying to make right for Trish and Danni, if Danni remains as female. Perhaps my experiences will be useful in that respect, and like other parents, try to use them to help our children avoid missing out on important things.

My life seemed to be flashing past as I moved inexorably towards my dotage in two days. Thirty seems so old–bloody hell, it is old compared to twenty nine. When Simon asked what I wanted for my birthday, I told him, ‘to be twenty nine again.’ He simply rolled his eyes, shook his head and sighed. If he’d frothed at the mouth, I’d have thought he was having a seizure of some sort rather than passing an opinion of a non-verbal type.

In the video that was running at high speed through my brain, I saw myself playing the Virgin Mary at my junior school, it was good although my father didn’t appear to recognise me at the time. My mother did, but that’s another story.*

My mind alighted on my mother. I really missed her. I wonder if she knew what was going on the way she surreptitiously trained me to run a house–teaching me housework, sewing, cooking as well as coordinating linens and carpets and so on. Okay, so if I lived alone in my own place it might have been useful but would she have known she wasn’t going to be there when I did? She died when I was twenty three, she was only fifty herself. A heart attack which might not have been helped by the difficulties in the relationship between us–especially between my father and me. At the same time she caused some of the friction by reporting me to him if I seemed to either act too femininely for her or be doing something she hadn’t instigated, like my cross stitch.

For a long time that puzzled me, was she as bad as him? Then it occurred to me, that she could have been doing one of two things: controlling my training as it suited her; or pretending to support my father, so that what she was showing me would pass less noticeably. On the other hand she might have been inconsistent and felt better about it some days than others.

I wondered how she’d feel about my life as it was now–not many boys get to become a peer’s wife. I suddenly wondered what would happen in the case of same sex marriages in the future. If Simon had been gay married me as Charlie, would I have had a title? I somehow doubt it. Thankfully, it didn’t happen.

I thought about my father. In some ways he was an ogre in others he tried his best. At least what he thought was best, perhaps more for him than me. The beatings I had from him certainly didn’t work if his goal was to make me into a man, though in other ways, he did help form me as I am today though I’m not sure he’d approve of that as a concept, except for fiddling with bikes.

Of course, the sixty four dollar question is, Would he have eventually come round to having a daughter if he hadn’t had the stroke? I’ll never know the answer to that but it does cross my mind every so often. That we achieved some form of reconciliation and that he seemed to approve of Simon does make my memories happier, or my memories of him. There is also his one good point, he loathed his sister, Doreen, with a vehemence. She does have the unhappy knack of being totally loathsome, so I suppose I share his opinion of her based upon my own experiences of her. I suspect she might be buried at sea to stop me dancing on her grave.

I also recall the day she came looking for the jewellery my mother left me–which was quite valuable–and to which she had no right whatsoever. I found out later that it came from my mother’s side of the family, not Dad’s, so I’d inherit it, full stop. The fun we had with them, my uncle and aunt, with a series of sketches involving the children nearly had me weeping with laughter. Julie with the baby pretending to be a gymslip mother and maid, Trish with her cannabis cakes and so on, part scripted by Stella and part improvised by the actors.

Then the Christmas play they did with Stella’s help was also very good and I believe Henry videoed. I must ask him about that. I thought about the way the school had been so good to take Trish and Billie and that they seemed to take to being schoolgirls so well. My own experience with the sadistic Murray who manipulated my father into agreeing to my dressing as a girl while we did the school play of Macbeth. I admit my hair was long and girlish, of course it was, I was trying to tell the world I was a girl, except very few were listening.

Then my revisiting the role at the convent with a real live stage actor of some renown after our matinee idol type got himself hurt and cried off. He redeemed himself a little later when he spoke to the sixth form girls at the convent. He actually admitted I knew more about stage acting than he did and then noticed me hiding at the back and called me out to the front. Boy, was I embarrassed.

My mind drifted over the mystery of the blue energy–where did it come from? Why did it come? Were my interactions, usually in dreams, with this Old Testament goddess just my mind playing tricks or what? Part of me wanted them to be so and perhaps part of me wanted it to be true, just so there were some things other than raw natural power, which were more powerful than man and his technology and science. I’m still agnostic, although respectful of my (imaginary?) friend, who may or may not have helped me out a few times when things got rough.

Jung claimed there were no such things as accidental coincidences, that such things were meaningful. I don’t know if I agree with the man, who was as barking as some of his patients, or whether Quantum Mechanics agrees with him or not. I’d have to read John Gribbin’s book, In Search of Schrodinger’s Cat, once I could prise it away from Trish.

“God, look at the time,” boomed Simon’s voice interrupting my reverie, and I was back to the reality of being two days away from being thirty, again–I must read that book, my browsing of it if I recall showed the line, “There is no such thing as reality.” Not sure what I think about that. “Come on, wifey, get my breakfast,” said Simon prodding me.

Yeah, maybe Gribbin’s right, Simon can be really unreal some days.

* http://bigclosetr.us/topshelf/fiction/41235/nativity-play

The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2214 by Angharad Copyright © 2013 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

---

“Wifey?”

“Yes, me hubby, you wifey. You go now–make breakfast for hubby.”

“Me Tarzan you Jane,” I said in as a deep a voice as I could as I walked out the door pulling on a jumper over my tee shirt.

“No, me Tarzan, you Jane,” he called after me.

“Whatever,” I muttered, while thinking, ‘Who actually gives a shit?’ Then reflected on what I’d just thought and actually, I do give a shit. To me it’s very important that him Tarzan, me Jane. Any other arrangement wouldn’t work.

It was back to the old chestnut, people who’ve crossed the gender line find it very important to be recognised in their chosen gender. Nothing else will do. Yeah, that summed me up nicely.

Instead of getting Simon’s breakfast, I became breakfast for my guest cannibal who decided she wanted a bite of breast–my breast–and it bloody hurts. At this rate I’ll end up with nipples like the rose on the end of a watering can.

Simon arrived in the kitchen about twenty minutes after I’d got there and he saw me feeding Lizzie. “Where’s my breakfast?” he asked.

“Same place as mine, Tarzan can make own breakfast, plus cuppa for Jane.”

“Huh,” he offered as a comment which really did strain my intellectual processes to respond.

“Well you feed her then and I’ll get our breakfasts.”

“Very funny–I’m not exactly equipped for it am I?”

“No, but if you look in the fridge there is a bottle in there all you have to do is warm it and pour it down her throat.”

“No, you carry on–it’s quite homely.” He bustled about taking ten minutes to make himself some toast and a pot of tea.

I sipped my tea while Lizzie paused at my breast to watch Simon spread a thick layer of marmalade on his cremated bread and munch it. “Da da da,” she called at him.

“Is there something you’re not telling me, Simon Cameron?”

“No, she’s at best mistaken at worst lying.”

“Mama ma ma,” she said at me.

Simon sniggered and choked himself on his cinders. “You may be right,” I agreed then smirked at his efforts to inhale bread dust. While this was going on a herd of daughters arrived and made themselves cereal and a cold drink.

“Is it your birthday today, Mummy?”

“No, sweetheart,” I replied to Livvie. “I’m not having any more birthdays.”

“Why? Don’t you get nice presents anymore?”

“No, I’ve decided that I’m going to stay at twenty nine.”

“That is so old,” she said looking horrified.

“Thanks, Liv, that just made my day.” Simon, this time, choked on his tea. Serve him right.

Jacquie arrived and took the cannibal with her to bathe her and redress her–it’s too cold to hang her on the line–enabling me to get some breakfast myself.

“Can I take the present I bought back to the shop?” asked Simon.

“If you like,” I thought we weren’t doing presents any more.

“It was only botox anyway.”

“Botox?”

“Yeah, you know the botulinus toxin.”

“I know perfectly well what it is, Clostridium botulinus, a nasty little germ.”

“What is it, Mummy?” asked Trish.

“It’s a very nasty germ that causes botulism which can be fatal. It’s an anaerobic bacterium, from a lethal family other members cause tetanus and gas gangrene.”

“Does that make you fart?” she asked giggling.

“I doubt it–unless it was in your death throes.”

“Ugh,” she said and asked to leave the table, her two sisters following her.

“Where’s Danni this morning?” I asked.

“Och she went oot an ’oor ago.”

“Where?”

“She didnae tell me.” Daddy picked up my Observer and I grabbed the review section with the crossword as he went.

“She’s gone to Cindy’s–there’s a note on the fridge.” Simon said putting the marmalade away.

“She’s supposed to ask me before she goes.” I fumed, the little cow had beaten me again. I stood up to rinse off the dishes when I saw movement across the drive. It was Danni and she was coming out of the bike shed. Grabbing a coat I rushed out after her.

“Where are you going?” I demanded.

She appeared flushed which could have been embarrassment, the cold weather or exertion. “Oh hi, Mummy, I did leave a note.”

“You’re supposed to ask before you go off.”

“I never did before.”

“You were a boy then, girls are more vulnerable, especially T-girls.”

“I think if I showed my face as a boy around here I’d get my head kicked in.”

“I didn’t think Trish and Livvie were that violent.”

“Not them, Mummy, the kids who live in Pompey–they’d kill me.”

“Wouldn’t they do that to you as a girl as well?”

“Dunno–I think they’d be less inclined to hit a girl.”

I wasn’t sure that statistics agreed with him, the thugs today will happily beat up girls as well as boys, partly because some of them are girls as well. In recent months several girls have been involved in gang attacks on other girls. Thankfully, she’s not into gang stuff which doesn’t seem to come this far away from the town centre, and I suspect is probably more rife in bigger cities, though there is some evidence for it near Fratton but then I heard a youth worker complain that a few years ago it wasn’t too bad to find jobs for teenagers but since the first invasion of Poles, the job market dried up. It seems many employers would rather employ Polish workers because by all accounts they are more reliable and hard working than local labour. Can’t say I blame them but it does have a knock on effect on other areas including rising numbers of NEATS (Not in Education, Apprenticeships or Training). Add to that the old adage, ‘The Devil finds work for idle hands,’ and you have a time-bomb ticking away. There are loads of kids who have a very bleak outlook who have neither the education nor skills to find decent work so we import people who do, making the local problem worse.

That’s an over simplification, because like all problems involving groups of people, it’s always more complicated and involves things like, undervaluing education by teenagers and lack of motivation through belief that it won’t get you anywhere.

I don’t think it’s a simple as the payment of benefits any more than I believe reinstating capital punishment would reduce the number of murders.

“I’ve been in that pub,” declared Simon as the news showed the latest on the dreadful accident in Glasgow. “Bit much when you go for a quiet drink and have a police helicopter crash land on top of you.”

“It’s very sad,” I agreed.

My mind went back to our recent use of the police helicopter when Jacquie and the babies disappeared, we were glad enough of it then. It didn’t occur to me that it could just fall out of the sky, which is what seemed to happen to the Glasgow one. All those poor people in the pub, and on board the flying machine. It seemed so very sad.

The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2215 by Angharad Copyright © 2013 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

---

“Why did you go outside?” Simon eventually asked me.

“To speak with Danni.”

“I thought she went hours ago.”

“She had to mend a slow puncture.”

“An’ it took an hour?”

“Yes, I sometimes struggle to get the tyre off the rim.”

“I thought you had levers and all sorts of other gadgets?”

“I do, but it’s sometimes so stiff...”

“Yeah, I know.” He winked at me and I had to bite my tongue. At times he is so juvenile it drives me up the wall.

“I was talking about the wire round the rim of the tyre.”

“I wasn’t,” he smirked.

“Yes I know.” As I left the room I said loudly at him, “And those who can’t talk about it...”

“Bitch,” he called at my back. I ignored him and went to my study to open an email from Siá¢n.

‘Hi Cathy,

Just a quick update–things are going well between us and the baby seems to be progressing as expected. I hope all is well with you all. Feel free for you or any of the kids to come and stay.

Love,

Siá¢n x’

I was glad they had settled their differences and that Siá¢n was going to accept the baby as hers as well as Kirsty’s, though I could understand why she had the problem in the beginning.

Simon came in to my study, “Are you going to give me the cold shoulder all morning?”

“I wasn’t aware I was giving you a cold shoulder at all.”

“What? You insult me and walk off without a by your leave...”

“You went all schoolboy on me.”

“It was a joke.”

“So was mine.”

“Yours was personal.”

“I didn’t think so. Perhaps you’re being oversensitive.”

“No I wasn’t, you implied I couldn’t make love to you.”

“As far as I’m concerned you’re a very good lover.”

“So why did you say, Those who can’t talk about it?”

“Same reason you went all schoolboy on me when I was telling you about Danni finding it difficult to get a tyre off the rim.”

“I was just joking, babes.”

“Sometimes it does anything but amuse me.”

“Okay, I get the message.”

“There wasn’t one, except to say I didn’t find your joke very funny and responded in kind which you didn’t like. I wasn’t trying to impugn your virility in anyway. In fact, I enjoy being the attention of it from time to time.”

His face lit up at this statement. “You wouldn’t enjoy some attention–sort of now, would you?”

“If I did, how would we prevent coitus interruptus?”

“Electrify the door handle?”

“Knowing you, you’d fuse the lights or something.”

“It’s good to know you have such confidence in me, babes.”

“Darling, I can always bank on you because you’re a banker, not an electrician.”

“See, you build me up and dash me down again.”

“Why don’t we wait until bedtime, it’s much less stressful,” and you always fall asleep after it anyway.

“Always jam tomorrow,” he said and went to walk away.

I glanced at his trousers, nothing was showing there so perhaps I had cooled his ardour. “No, not tomorrow, tonight, tiger.”

“We’ll see, you’ve got about ten hours to think of an excuse before then.” He went away leaving me feeling very guilty, but to be honest, I’m not in the mood anyway and I’m more likely to be so at night. Well if I tell myself that often enough, I might be by then. I sometimes wondered if there was something wrong with me, I love him and I do desire him, but nowhere as often as he does me–or so he says.

The day didn’t seem to get any better. David managed to blow the thermostat on the gas oven, so we had to cook the joint in the Aga. I left him to contact an engineer he knew the next day. I was also unconsciously worrying about Danni because whenever she gets together with Cindy and Pia she gets into trouble or they take advantage of her.

She rode in about half past three before it got dark and went straight up to her room. Not entirely unusual but a tad suspicious. A few minutes later the rest of the coven met up there, so I waited a minute before lurking outside her door.

“Mum’s gonna kill you,” was Trish’s opinion on whatever her big sister had done this time. I suspected I wasn’t going to like it, whatever it was.

“Yeah, she will,” agreed Livvie, who as a moderate was less likely to think that than Trish.

“We all did it,” I heard Danni offer as mitigation.

“She’ll still kill you,” insisted Trish.

“Why do I always get into these situations?”

“I could tell you, but then I’d have to kill you,” said Trish.

“Only ’cos she’d kill you first.”

“What?” asked a bewildered Danni.

“She thinks it’s because you’re too...”

“Easy going,” interrupted Trish. I thought Livvie was going to say thick not that.

“Yeah, that’s right, too easy going.”

“I suppose I am.”

“Will that wash off?” asked Livvie possibly about something else.

“It’s not supposed to for a while.”

“Oh.”

“What have a done wrong now?”

“Mummy will soon tell you.”

“She can’t do nothing about it.”

When there was no reply to her question, Danni continued, “Can she?”

I slipped away as it sounded as if the meeting was adjourning. I wasn’t sure what to do. Obviously Danni had done something which I was unlikely to approve. I tried to think what was likely. Her hair was growing out of a pixie cut which suited her nicely, had she let one of them cut her hair? She was daft enough. Or was she? I’d have to wait and see. If it was a tattoo she’d got I’d be out to prosecute the person who did it. Surely she’s not that daft.

I was emerging from my study with a book I wanted to show Simon when I passed Danni who had a hoodie pulled up over her head. I knew it was cold, but not that cold.

“Darling, d’you have to wear that hood up indoors?”

“Hi, Mummy, yeah I got a bit cold on the bike.”

“It might be nice if you looked at me when you spoke to me.”

“Yeah, sorry, Mummy,” she said turning towards me but the hoodie was still up and she looked at the floor. I put my hand under her chin and lifted her face up to look at me. She blushed furiously.

“If that’s mascara it’s not as neat a job as you usually do.”

“Yeah, I was in a hurry if you remember.”

“I do remember and you weren’t wearing any then. It’s eyelash dye isn’t it?”

She shrugged and loosened the hood a little so a bit of her fringe showed. It wasn’t the brown it was when she went out. I pulled back the hood.

“At thirteen, you’re supposed to ask me before you do things like this, beside with two hairdressers and a third nearly qualified, why did you do this yourself?”

She shrugged again and a tear escaped the corner of her eye.

“Do you want me to forbid you seeing Cindy?”

She shook her head.

“Every time you see her she does something else to you. You’re not a life size Barbie doll. Go and see your father and see what he thinks.” I watched my now, platinum blonde daughter walk towards the sitting room and followed at a discreet distance.

“Hi, Daddy.”

“Hi, poppet–ooh, new hairstyle, yeah, I like it.”

What? It looks awful, she’s far too young for that colour and it makes her looked washed out–bloody men.

The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2216 by Angharad Copyright © 2013 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

---

So much for parental solidarity. Simon isn’t so much a loose cannon as man-o-war that’s slipped its moorings. I felt miffed, he never notices my hair when I’ve had it done, maybe I should go platinum blonde as well. He wouldn’t notice, the only bit he sees of my body is my boobs–and well, like now they are rather noticeable. I went and found our resident cannibal and she clamped on to my tender nipple like a badger with tetanus. [Author’s note: In the first draft of this, I spelt that teatanus–Freudian or what?]

In twenty minutes she’d sucked me dry enough for me to need another cuppa and for her to lie back in the baby recliner and joggle about until she was sick. She was but fortunately Jacquie noticed it before I did and changed her for me. Baby formula smells a bit when it’s regurgitated whereas breast milk hardly smells at all–how’s that for the voice of experience?

“Daddy liked my hair,” smirked Danni as she came back to face the dragon woman.

“Tough, I don’t.” The smirk disappeared and she walked quickly away to see what her sisters were doing. Playing with the Wii, more tennis I expect. I left them to it and went to see what David was creating in the kitchen. He was kneeling down with his head in a cupboard.

“Come out you little bugger,” he muttered to himself.

“Might I ask what you’re doing in there?” I asked as casually as I could.

Coming out, predictably he smacked his head on the top of it and swore. Rubbing his noggin he apologised and explained he thought he’d seen a mouse go in there. I suggested if he had, it was unlikely to come out and face him, man to mouse. He blushed and agreed.

I left him to get on with dinner while I went in search of a Longworth trap. I’ve mentioned these before (they might be called something else, elsewhere) but they’re designed for live trapping of small mammals. You put a trail of bait leading to a one way door and the small animal unwittingly traps themselves in a larger chamber in which you should have placed some bedding material and food. In practice they should be checked at least once a day, as things like shrews (which you need a licence to handle) can starve to death in hours, so fast is their metabolism. As we were dealing with a mouse I baited the trap with chocolate.

Longworth trap.

“What’re you going to do with that?” asked David as I placed the trap inside the cupboard he’d recently been exploring.

“Catch a mouse if there’s one in there.”

“How does that kill it?”

“It doesn’t, it’s a live trap.”

“Why not just a good old fashioned mousetrap?”

“I prefer not to kill anything I don’t have to.”

“But it’s a mouse.”

“So you said. Did you know a dormouse apparently wandered into a cafe earlier this year. If you’d bashed that you’d have been liable for a thousand pound fine.”

“What? That’s ridiculous.”

“It might be, but it happens to be the law.”

“Well we all know what we think of that.”

“Just remember if it wasn’t for the law, this country would be like a jungle with the nastiest taking what they wanted off the more vulnerable.”

“You really think so?”

“Yes, remember as well, without the law I wouldn’t have been able to marry Simon, I’d still have remained male despite changing my body.”

“Okay, you’ve made your point, but in your case it would have been ridiculous to call you male, you were never male you’re far too pretty and your body shape is far too female for you to have been male.”

“I’m AIS so my body didn’t become masculinised.”

“That was a bit of luck wasn’t it?”

“As it happens, yes, but I’d feel sorry for anyone who was who didn’t have the same gender conviction.”

“Hadn’t thought of that. Now back to this ’ere vermin...”

“Let’s just see if the trap works.”

“Little bugger will have gone to ground b’now.”

“If it is around the bait will attract it.”

“What did you use, cheese?”

“Good lord, no, chocolate.”

“Chocolate? What a mouse with a sweet tooth?”

“Apparently they find it irresistible.”

“Must be a female mouse then.”

“We’ll see.”

“Chocolate, whatever next?”

“Didn’t someone write a book called that?”

“Chocolate?”

“That was a film, so probably a book, but so was Whatever Next, I think, can’t think who wrote it.”

I put a note on the fridge to check the trap tomorrow. If it caught anything, I’d check it in a plastic bag and release it over in the field where it would have to take its chances with all the natural predators that live there.

“What about that cat you’ve got?”

“She’s too big to go in the trap.”

“To catch the mouse.”

“It wouldn’t surprise me if she didn’t catch it in the first place and let it go in the kitchen.”

“I thought they killed and ate them?”

“Sometimes.”

“Oh, I thought that’s what they like, ate?”

“Hungry cats might, a rather well fed, lazy puss is more likely to hunt around her dish than outside–far too much like hard work. She’s a sort of tuck filled fatty puss.”

He stood there for a moment before he groaned. “That is so awful it’s almost funny.”

“Huh,” I said in mock indignation and pretended to storm out. In the hallway I bumped into Stella.

“What has Danni had done to her hair?”

“An attack of peroxide by the look of it.”

“And you let her do it?”

“I had no say on it, it was a fait accompli. I have since registered my displeasure.”

“She’s far too young for platinum.”

“I have already expressed that sentiment to her. Unfortunately, my husband doesn’t agree.”

“That’s all the justification you’d need to feel confident in your opinion.”

“What–because Simon says the opposite?”

“Of course, if he likes it you know it’s likely to be awful.”

“Um–Stella?”

“Yes?”

“He likes me, remember?”

“So he does, oh well, you’re the exception that proves the rule.” So saying she went past and up the stairs.

“Wonderful.”

“What is, Mummy?” asked Julie, who had presumably just come in.

“Nothing, darling.”

“Fine, be like that. What times dinner?”

“Twenty minutes or so.”

“Have I got time for a bath?”

“I doubt it.”

“What the hell?” Julie just noticed Danni’s new hair colour.

“Hi, Ju,” Danni offered as she went towards the lounge.

“Who did that?”

“I suspect she might be a suicide blonde.”

“Eh?”

“Dyed by her own hand–goodness, haven’t you heard that one before?”

“No, it’s quite good. Seriously, she’s too young...”

“That’s what I told her.”

“So where did she get it done?”

“It seems Cindy and she did it to each other.”

“That would explain it. Why does she hang out with that loser?”

“You think Cindy is a bit of loser?”

“Yeah, her an’ that weirdo who did his own sex-change op.”

“Pia.”

“Yeah, whatever. Why does she mix with the likes of them?”

“I don’t know, perhaps you’d like to find out–she won’t tell me.”

“Oh no. I’m not doing the big sister act again for a long while.”

“Shame, you’re rather good at it.”

The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2217 by Angharad Copyright © 2013 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

---

Dinner was a subdued affair the table being divided between those of us who thought Danni had made a boob having her hair dyed platinum and them who liked it.

Nobody had to say anything to work out who was on which side, it seemed to happen by osmosis. The evening was less tense or for me it was. I went into my study and did some work on the survey. I’m still being paid for it, so have to earn it. Having finished that, I drafted a paper for the bank based upon the preliminary survey results for the reserve they’d funded in my name. The footings for the study centre were in place and work would start on the construction as soon as things got a little warmer.

One of my students had run the survey for me and had included some photos of the site. Part of me missed being in the thick of things, bossing people about to do what I wanted. Instead I now have to delegate, I’m just too busy to do it myself. Thankfully, Tony Collier is reliable and his report is probably as good as mine would have been. As it’s being submitted by the university through me to the bank, I shall revamp it to meet their purposes but I will give credit to Collier for the bulk of the survey work. Credit from a bank–see I’m even thinking like Simon–God forbid.

Simon herded the kids up to bed when he saw I was working and I thanked him and winked at him; which should keep him happy for an hour or two. I hadn’t forgotten I’d almost promised him some nookie that night though I wasn’t really in the mood for it. Sometimes I wonder if my libi-do had libi-done! Oh and according to one study I read transsexuals are supposed to be left handed–yeah, right.

At ten, I finished and making a cup of tea told Si I was going to bed as soon as I drunk it. I was good to my word and went up ten minutes later. I’d changed and was cleaning my teeth when Casanova arrived.

To cut a long story short, he had his wicked way and I ended up having to have a little wash before I could follow his lead and zonk. I’d just got into bed when Lizzie started crying. Simon didn’t hear her, neither did anyone else so it was yours truly who had to deal with her. She was snuffly like she had a cold and had snot all up her face and in her hair. I cleaned her up and gave her her soother or dummy. The way she chewed on it tended to indicate she had a teething cold. Just what I needed, so I gave her a small dose of Calpol, which I hoped would help her sleep. It didn’t, and I ended up walking round the bedroom with her draped over my shoulder, probably with snail trails all down my back–don’t you just love babies?

She went back to sleep about the time I suggested if she didn’t I might have to terminate her. I was so tired I could have slept standing up. It was two o’clock and I had yet to close my eyes, which felt like burning embers. No sooner had I got back into bed and about to warm my cold feet on Simon’s leg when she started crying again. I was going to leave it and hope exhaustion would enable one of us to sleep but thought better of it and when I went to sort her, she’d dropped her dummy and on my repositioning it, she went off almost instantly. Tomorrow, she can sleep in the garage, or maybe I will.

Monday was a blur seen through eyes which had no desire to open except to blink and close again. I dragged myself out of bed, asked Jacquie to sort Lizzie and just managed to get the girls to school on time. Then I came home had a shower and felt a little better. Jacquie said she’d take her in with her that night and I thanked her, I might now get a sleep.

I fell asleep at my desk and woke with a crease down the side of my face where I’d leant against my sleeve. Fortunately, I was working from home and my snooze did enable me to wake up enough to collect the girls from school. After dinner, I went to bed, I was shattered.

Tuesday, I was woken by the aliens getting into bed and giggling. Then they started singing Happy Birthday. I felt like getting out of bed and running as far away as I could, then realised they’d have followed me–it was my birthday they were singing about.

I burst into tears and they wondered if they’d done anything wrong. I told them they hadn’t and that I was just so moved by their performance it made me cry. A total porkie, I’d just that moment remembered I was now thirty. Life was over and I had to prepare for my dotage and eventually to die.

As the day wore on and I opened cards and presents, I sort of warmed up a little. I took the girls to school and decided when I got back to make some cakes only we had the engineer trying to repair the cooker I’d have been using. In the end I made one using the bread maker and a recipe that came with the instruction book. It looked okay though taste is as important. If it’s awful, the bird table might be getting a rather large slice of it.

David was quite amused by my adventure with the bread maker but was reasonably impressed with the small piece I gave him to try. “It’s okay, stick a candle on the top and we’ll call it your birthday cake.”

It was the only one I had as far as I knew, then I thought, I could have used the Aga but when I mentioned it to him, David shook his head adding, “Besides, I might need it for dinner–I’m going to do a casserole.” I shrugged and left my effort to cool under a cloth on the cooling rack.
So far the day wasn’t going as I expected. Simon had left me a card and although we agreed we wouldn’t buy each other presents for Christmas, I felt disappointed if that was also the case for birthdays–not that I actually needed anything. I suppose that if I had, I probably had enough money to buy it myself.

For lunch we had boiled eggs. It’s one of my favourite meals and David did them to perfection while I helped making a pile of toast. Stella grumbled a little about the plebeian food but it didn’t stop her eating it all and saying she enjoyed it afterwards. I asked David about the cooker engineer and he told me the man had gone to get a part and would be back later to finish it. Seems like my birthday cake would be the one I made in the bread machine. I shouldn’t complain, there are millions starving to death every day. Instead I should count my blessings, but all of them were out at that moment.

I collected the girls from school and when we got home I let them have a biscuit and drink before they went up and changed. The kitchen was wreathed in the most amazing aromas and David threw me out–yeah, of my own kitchen.

“What about the oven, has he fixed it yet?”

“I’m going to try it later–now bugger off.”

Honestly, you just can’t get the staff.

I had a sniff of the wonderful smells emitting from the kitchen and I had to admit none of it smelt like a casserole. Was there something he wasn’t telling me?

The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2218 by Angharad Copyright © 2013 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

---

I saw Trish laying the table in the dining room. “Who told you to do that, sweetheart?”

“Daddy.”

“Is he home?”

“Nah, he told me last night.”

“Last night? How many places did he tell you to lay?”

“You know, for everyone.”

“Everyone?”

“Yeah, you know, Mummy, you, me, Danni, Livvie...”

“Why can’t we eat in the kitchen like we usually do?”

“It’s your birthday, Mummy. Daddy wanted to celebrate it.”

“Okay, I’ll believe you, thousands wouldn’t.”

“Hah, more fool them then.” She went back to counting on her fingers and laying more places.

What was Simon up to? Twenty minutes later he arrived with Sammi, kissed me and dashed upstairs to shower. Sammi did the same. Damn, she evaded my questions.

Dressed in jeans and a top, I thought I’d better change into something tidier, so I slipped upstairs and changed into a skirt and top with some shoes with a moderate heel. I put on some light makeup and was combing my hair when Simon emerged from the bathroom wearing a pair of charcoal trousers and a blue striped shirt.

“That looks better,” he said and taking me in his arms he kissed me deeply and wished me happy birthday.

“Ugh, your hair is still wet,” I said as I wiped some drips off my face.

“So? It’s clean water.”

“Glad to hear it.” I sprayed myself with ‘Coco’ and he sniffed and smiled at me.

“You smell good enough to eat,” he said moving towards me.

“Ah-ah, too much fat would put your cholesterol readings off the scale.”

“Gotta die of something.”

“I prefer the idea of old age.”

“Ma’am, allow me to escort you to the banquet,” he said pretending he was Rhett Butler.

“Why thank you, kind sir,” I said and dropped a small curtsey. Scarlett O’Hara, I wasn’t.

We linked arms and processed down the stairs, “You don’t really want to die of old age, do you? All that dribbling and incontinence...yuck.”

“I don’t know, I doubt I shall get the chance anyway–so far half the population of Russia has tried to pop me off, sooner or later the other half might try and my luck might not hold a second time.”

“God, I hope that’s over. It costs enough money.”

“You’re paying them off?”

“No, but to keep the gangsters in government on side we had to agree to take over a Russian bank which was up the spout.”

“So it’s not the mafia?”

“No, well not the official one, this lot are as inept at crookery as they are at democracy.”

“They seem to be able to screw loads of money out of Western Europe for oil and gas.”

“Oh yeah, one or two are doing quite well, but if they really knew what they were doing, they’d have screwed an awful lot more.”

The girls came rushing past us all dressed up in skirts or dresses.

“Is there something you’re not telling me, husband?”

“Only one thing? Nah–there’s loads of them.”

“That would not surprise me.”

“Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“Well, I have to be careful, my husband is a banker. If ever he finds out about you, he’ll grab my allowances.”

He suddenly stopped at the foot of the stairs. “The cad, fancy grabbing a lady by her allowances. I hope he washes his hands afterwards.”

“Some help you are.”

“Always look after number one.”

“Thanks a bunch.”

“Look, lady, if I give you a birthday present will you let me make mad passionate love to you all night?”

“What about my husband?”

“He’ll have to wait until I get my breath back.”

I had to think about what he said. “You fool,” I slapped him gently on the arm and we both walked into the dining room laughing, still arm in arm.

“Happy Birthday,” cried out a dozen voices and I saw Henry and Monica were there as well as the rest of our household.

The meal was a mixed grill, with small steaks, liver, sausages, eggs, bacon mushrooms, tomatoes and some chips. I struggled to eat very much, I was overcome with the emotion of the moment–a surprise dinner party in my own house–for me.

David had made profiteroles, which I absolutely adore and when we paused for coffees, he emerged with a large birthday cake complete with thirty candles which I had to try and blow out in one breath while making a wish and trying not to collapse or spit on the cake or anyone else. It isn’t easy and my eyes were seeing spots and I had a ringing in the ears.

Of course we had to have another chorus of Happy Birthday followed by She’s a Jolly Good Fellow. Finally, Simon banged on the table and when he had silence he stood up while I blushed.

“I’ve had the good fortune to know Cathy since Stella tried to capture her for me–well she’d heard about my record of dating, and thought if she rendered the pretty girl riding the bike, unconscious, she might agree to a date with me before she came to her senses. Which is exactly what happened.

“What I didn’t know was how she’d fling herself at me–pouring wine all over me into the bargain. Literally, she jumped on me that first night covering my best shirt in red wine. I had to date her to get her to wash it for me.

“She was even more shy than I was. I remember a shy naíve young woman who was even more socially inept than I was–and in six short years she’s transmogrified into the butterfly you see before you, and not only that but she could sit with anyone a pauper or a king and they’d all be impressed with her beauty, her wit and her kindness.

“When she asked about fostering children, I had no idea of what was involved but we persevered, driven on by Cathy’s enthusiasm and energy and when we decided the youngsters we’d fostered were too precious for us to let go, she went all out to adopt them, marrying me on the way.

“Lady, I love you and salute you for your compassion, stubbornness and courage–oh and your taste in children and husbands. Please raise your glasses and join me in wishing the most wonderful woman in my world, a very happy birthday.”

I sat there blushing with tears dribbling down my cheeks. I didn’t deserve any of them–this was the most marvellous collection of people in the whole world and they chose to give me the one thing I thought I would never have–a family. I loved them all, each and every one of them.

Every one of them stood up and said something, from the little ones, just, “We love you, Mummy,” to Tom and then Henry making short speeches about how much I meant to them. Stella said she owed me her life several times over and I was the best sister she could have hoped for, even if I kept taking her clothes.

At the very end, Jacquie passed me little Lizzie and she held out her arms and cried, “Ma ma,” before I took her and fed her my breast.

“See, even little Lizzie says good things about her,” said Simon and they all laughed disturbing the baby for a moment before she latched onto the breast again biting me in the process.

“Could I have a cup of tea, please,” I asked, nothing else would do.

The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2219 by Angharad Copyright © 2013 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

---

“Did you enjoy your dinner party?” Simon asked as we snuggled together after doing you know what.

“It was the nicest present I could have had.”

“Oh bugger!” he exclaimed sitting up, then jumping out of bed began pulling on clothes.

“What’s the matter?” I asked putting the light on.

“Your present, it’s in the car.”

“It doesn’t matter, it can wait until morning.”

“No it can’t.” So saying he pulled on his pants and scuffed into slippers before disappearing downstairs.

I wearily wiped myself pulled my panties back on and then my nightdress before donning a dressing gown and slippers. I followed him downstairs getting there as he was closing the back door.

“Oh, you got up?”

“Yes, now we’re down here d’you fancy a cuppa?”

“Could do, I suppose.”

I switched the kettle on and turned to face him not sure what to expect he’d got from the car.

“Tea or coffee?”

“Don’t mind.”

“As I’m making tea for myself I’ll make a pot for two.”

“Fine.”

I turned back to the work top and made the tea, getting two mugs down as the magic potion infused.

“D’you remember Tim Collins?”

“The man who made my ring?”

“Yeah, that’s him.”

“He’s okay, I hope.”

“Oh yes, he’s fine and send his regards.”

“Oh good,” I said pouring the tea. “How did you bump into him?”

“I do from time to time.”

“You’ve never mentioned it before.”

“Never crossed my mind before.”

“Oh, here’s your tea,” I handed him his mug.

“Ta, here’s your birthday present.” He passed me a small package wrapped up in gold paper.

“Thank you.” I said casually slipping it into my pocket.

“Aren’t you going to open it?”

“Yes, but I was going to drink my tea first.” I walked around to him and sat on his lap and kissed him. “You’re the best husband I’ve ever had,” I told him.

“Glad to hear it,” he replied putting his arm round me, “open your present.”

“I will, kiss me...” he did and I wriggled on his lap dislodging something down below and I had to jump up and dash to the loo or I’d have marked his trousers. I returned embarrassed a couple of minutes later, my knickers lined with toilet paper. I assume this must be something like having a period only less messy.

I sat on his lap again, “Now where were we?” I asked.

“About here,” he said before kissing me and his thumb gently rubbed my nipple...

I was so sore when we finished. It isn’t very often we do it twice, and never before on the kitchen table, thank goodness no one came to see what was happening. I suppose it would have given new meaning to kitchen sink drama. I still hadn’t opened my present which became forgotten in the passion. We crawled up to bed too tired to move once we got under the duvet. I dropped off to sleep in moments waking a while later aware that I had a load of tissue paper stuck in a very personal place. I decided it could wait and went back to sleep.

I woke with Simon still with me. “No work today?”

“No, Sammi has to go for her pre op check.”

“Oh my goodness, I’d forgotten all about that since they changed the date."

"She asked me if I’d go with her.”

“Oh–okay,” I’d have thought she’d have asked me, but what the hell?

I gingerly eased myself out bed and Simon sniggered behind me. “Pig,” I snapped at him as I limped out to the loo and cleaned myself up before showering and rousing the girls.

“So what did you think of it?”

“Think of what?”

“Your present–duh.”

“Oops, I forgot all about it you know...”

“I do indeed–better not tell your husband.”

“No I won’t, he’s a single shot man.”

“Is he now.”

“If you had asked, is he now? I’d have said no, not now, but I think I might be a single use woman.”

He laughed so I threw the towel at him. It was damp from drying my hair with it.

“No stamina these youngsters,” he said getting out of bed.

“It isn’t about stamina it’s about needing a retread, it was smoking when I got to bed, I’m surprised you didn’t smell the burning.”

He sniggered, “I suppose there was a bit of friction–do you regret it?”

“Not at all, well only when I try to move or sit down.”

He smiled, “Want me to kiss it better?”

“I think you’d better stay well clear of it for a few days.”

“Not going cycling, then?”

“Ha bloody ha.”

“I thought women dealt with pain better than men do.”

“We do,” I limped back to the bathroom pulled down my panties and sprayed some antiseptic. I added a panty-liner and went back out. “What time is Sammi’s appointment?”

“Half ten, I think.”

“Okay, I’m going to get the girls up.” I blew him a kiss because I knew if I went anywhere near him he’d grab me and pull me onto the bed. To my surprise the girls were already up and had showered themselves. I sorted their hair and they finished dressing.

“Mummy?”

“Yes, darling,” I said to Livvie.

“Why are you walking funny?”

“I think I tweaked something in bed, sweetheart.”

“I ’spect they had sex, it was her birthday,” suggested Trish if I hadn’t been blushing so brightly I’d have said something to her about disrespect, although I’m not sure she understands what I’m on about. Instead Livvie told her off and that was seconded by Mima.

“You shouldn’t talk to Mummy like that, it’s very rude.”

“It was a joke, she doesn’t mind.”

“Yes she does she bwushed, it was vewy wude.”

I limped on down the stairs and into the kitchen.

“Och, I’m surprised we hae any crocks tae mornin’.”

“Why is that, Daddy,” I said hoping he hadn’t noticed me turning away because I was so embarrassed.

“I think ye ken that,” he said and laughed behind my newspaper.

Does everybody know what we did last night? God I hope not.

Julie and Phoebe came down and after watching me limp and sit very carefully, they looked at each other and the smirking became giggles. I tried to remain aloof. “I pulled a muscle I think.”

They both burst into laughter accompanied by Tom, then Julie wiping her eyes said, “I’m not surprised if you were doing what I think you were doing. The table seems okay though,” she said checking it over.

“I think the joke has gone far enough, don’t you?” I said firmly.

“Okay,” she said then looked at Phoebe and they both dissolved into giggles. I stood up and somehow managed to storm out of the kitchen and upstairs.

“What’s the matter, babes?” Simon was dressing as I burst into the bedroom in tears.

“They all know what we did–in the kitchen.”

“Oh–do they?”

“They were making fun of me.”

“Just ignore it, they’re only jealous.

“But it’s so embarrassing, they seem to have no respect for me whatsoever. That stuff last night at the dinner party–they seem to have forgotten.”

“Hey, don’t cry. I’ll speak to them.”

“No better not.”

“It’s only because we’re supposed to be their parents–they think because we’re over thirty that we just sit at night watching our teeth soaking in a glass.”

I contemplated this image and was at first horrified then amused.

“That’s better. We’re married and this is our house–we can do it wherever we like–on top of the piano tomorrow?”

“I doubt it, I feel like I’ve got third degree burns.”

“Well you would, I’m hot stuff and presumably because you have a PhD, you’d qualify.”

“Eh?”

“Three degrees, see you downstairs.”

The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2220 by Angharad Copyright © 2013 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

---

I washed my face and went back downstairs. It was time to take the girls to school, but Sammi was sitting with Simon and she was lacking her usual poise. Remember, this is the girl they wanted to become a model. I told Simon I’d be back for my breakfast and he nodded at me.

The girls were very quiet on the way there and it puzzled me, so I asked them. “You seem very quiet, is there something wrong?”

“Daddy told us if we couldn’t say anything nice about someone don’t say anything.” Livvie explained blushing as she did.

“I see, why d’you think he said that?”

“’Cos Trish disrespected you.”

“It wasn’t just me,” Trish added quickly to what Livvie had said. “I’m sorry, Mummy,” she said starting to cry.

“You’ve done and said this before, Trish, why should I believe you now?”

“Daddy said you were cryin’,” she said tears streaming down her face.

“Because not only what you said but the way you said it. Daddy and I are married, we’re also grown-ups and we love each other. Sometimes grown-ups show their love for each other physically.”

“By havin’ sex?” she asked.

“Sometimes, sometimes we just like being with each other having nothing more than a cuddle.”

“It was a very noisy cuddle, Mummy.”

“Here, wipe your face,” I handed her tissue.

I let them off at school and gave each of them a hug, saying to Trish, “If you promise not to be silly about what Daddy and I are doing, I’ll forgive you this time.”

“I promise,” she said and as far as I could see she didn’t have her fingers crossed. I believed her though I also knew she’d forget her promise and do it again. She has this unnatural curiosity about sex which she tries to hide by mocking it and those who do it, which sadly includes Simon and I. She has been abused and I wonder if that together with her intellect make it harder to understand why other people enjoy sex. I sincerely hope that as she grows older she falls for someone who can cope with her and that between them they can explore and appreciate that sex can be very varied and rattle the plates on the kitchen table or very gentle and beautiful.

I drove home locked into my thoughts and nearly drove past the house turning at the last moment and just missing a large truck which beeped at me furiously. Fortunately, my big cat has useful acceleration and got me out of trouble.

Sammi was still twitchy when I got back and made myself some tea and toast. Simon was upstairs doing something, probably shaving. “It’s going to be alright, isn’t it, Mummy?”

“I’d have thought so, it’s only a fitness check prior to surgery.”

“Did you have one?”

“Yeah, but the anaesthetist did it the same day as I was chopped.”

“But he could have said no.”

“He could have, but he didn’t and I had no reason to believe he would.”

“I’m beginning to think I should have done more exercise.”

“Why, your figure looks fabulous?”

“Well, all I do is walk a bit.”

“I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

“I hope so, Mummy, I really want this to happen–I just can’t go on living with this disparity between body and soul.” Interesting phrasing, not heard that variation before–perhaps I need to get out more.

“I’m sure they’ll sort it for you and then you’ll be complete.”

“I hope so. Mummy,” she blushed as she spoke, “is it true you can orgasm after surgery?”

“Yes, but it’s different to before if you understand me?” Why did I say that, I’d only had one or two before I got sorted.

“I think so.”

“You might ejaculate but it will be very little so much of the enjoyment is almost a psychic thing.”

“What spiritual?”

Oh dear, I hardly think that Simon and I bonking on the kitchen table constituted a spiritual act but we both enjoyed it immensely, though he was the one who yelled, not me–so it wasn’t a case of ’When Harry met Sally,’ and the restaurant scene. I’m no Meg Ryan–though it was very funny.* Besides he yelled because he banged his knee on the table leg.

“Some might describe it as beautiful, an act of love between two people.”

“Not just sex then?”

I blushed thinking of last night, “Nothing wrong with that, except it tends to pall rather quickly, so they say. Passion doesn’t burn for long it tends to use all the fuel very quickly. A slow burner lasts much longer.

“Yeah, that’s okay when you’re older...”

“You mean like Daddy and I?”

She blushed and shrugged.

“I’m only thirty, hopefully I could have another sixty years to go yet.”

“Sorry, Mummy, I didn’t quite mean it like that.”

“Have you had sex yet?” I asked though I had little doubt about it.

She blushed and nodded.

“Penetrative?”

Still blushing she nodded.

“I suspect you’ll find vaginal penetration a bit different.”

“You’ve like, tried both ways?” she asked quietly and now it was my turn to blush.

“Um–no–I was just speculating.” Is it hot in here or am I having a hot flush.

“A BJ?” she asked and I nearly burst into flames as I nodded. She smiled sweetly and knowingly. How can kids ask your advice when they already know more than you do?

Simon arrived and the conversation fell silent.

“Am I interrupting something?” he asked seeing us both blushing.

“Er–no, darling, we were just talking.”

“About sex.”

“It might have entered the conversation, I really can’t remember.”

“Cathy you are both blushing like nuns discovered doing gymnastics in the cucumber patch.”

“So, we’re blushing, maybe we were talking about someone we both love.”

“Like who?” he asked starting to colour up himself.

“Oh we couldn’t reveal that, it was just girl talk–you know, men’s bottoms and things–right, Sammi?”

“Uh–oh yeah, there’s this guy I see on the train most days and he has a totally beautiful bum–I’m so tempted to stroke it as he goes past...”

Simon glowered at us, “I don’t wish to know this, but it appears that women are just as sex crazed as men.”

“Just window shopping, darling, you know that women like to shop or browse,” I almost growled the last word at him and he blushed even more.

“Oh yeah, Mummy, who is tiger?” Sammi asked me.

“Oh look at the time, you’ll have to be going, parking at the hospital can be a nightmare.”

“It’s okay, babes, we have a taxi ordered.”

“Oh, fine–right, I’d better clean up in here, I gave David the day off after all his work for my birthday.”

“Did you ever open your present?” Simon asked me.

“Present?” I shook my head.

“You know, last night.”

“No,” I smirked thinking of something else last night.

“Not that, woman, the present I gave you.”

I smiled again.

“No you stupid bitch, the little box–remember, I met Tim?”

“Yeah, you said you met Tim.”

“I got it from him.”

“Did you?” I blushed again, “Where did I put it?”

“How the hell do I know, I carried it about for a whole week and knew where it was, you have it for five minutes and lose it.”

“Oh poo, I can’t remember what I did with it.”

“You were rather distracted, Mummy, from what I heard.”

“Here’s your taxi–good luck.” Oh shit, where did I put it?

* http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F-bsf2x-aeE

The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2221 by Angharad Copyright © 2013 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

---

I was torn trying to decide what to do, get lunch started or find the missing box. In the end I did neither as Jacquie arrived with Lizzie so I had to sit down and feed her. Don’t get me wrong, I love breast feeding and it does sort of validate my femaleness, though her recent habit of teething on my nipples does tend to make me prefer to express and feed her with a bottle. I suspect she might be a regular carnivore when she gets a few more teeth, in which case I will bottle feed her.

When I’d finished and had a cuppa to recover, I started the bread machine and put some jacket potatoes into the Aga for lunch. I had some grated cheese and made up a bowl of salad while Jacquie bathed Lizzie and dressed her.

Finally, I had some time to go and look for the missing box. For the next hour I searched through the bedroom trying to remember what I wore last night. I had on a beige coloured nightdress, a pair of panties and my dressing gown. I glanced at the bed stripped down to the mattress–the sheets were in the wash, along with my nightie–and my dressing gown. Oh poo.

Rushing downstairs I almost knocked Cate down, she’d come to look for me. She held out her hands for me to pick her up, so I carried her down to the utility room only to see the machine slurping away as it washed the bedding and my dressing gown. I hoped it wasn’t a watch Simon had given me.

As we stood there watching the drum of the machine turn one way and then the other, I became aware of bits of gold stuff floating on top of the water–the remains of the gift paper in which it had been wrapped. Things were getting no better. It was half past eleven.

At twelve the washing machine finished its final spin and I waited with bated breath as the door release clicked and I could open the door. I shut the utility room door to try and cover up my crime of negligence perhaps that should be negligée negligence?

Teasing the tangled pile of cloth from the machine I tried to pick out the worst of the gold paper, like tissue it had gone everywhere. Loading it into the laundry basket I checked through it and found the now papier má¢ché remains of the cardboard box the paper had covered but no sign of the contents, whatever they had been. I was almost in tears of frustration as I sifted through the bedding, my underwear and nightwear. Oh god–had it been so fine it had gone through the filter and washed down the drain? Surely not? Oh bugger.

Cate followed me into the utility room pushing door open wide then she sat on the basket of damp washing while I felt like strangling her. I sent her off with a flea in her ear and I went through all the washing again. Whatever it was, it wasn’t here. How do I tell Simon?

Unable to face anyone, I heard him come in talking to Jacquie and I grabbed the laundry and fled upstairs to the airing cupboard cum drying room, where I busied myself with hanging up the bedding and my nightwear. That I was hiding from Simon was a separate factor.

I have never taken so long to hang up a sheet and duvet cover plus my nightdress and dressing gown. I was still picking out bits of gold paper which had attached themselves to all sorts of places on the bedding and clothing. However, it was a distraction and it busied my mind while my unconscious rehearsed ways of telling Simon that I’d lost my marbles and his present.

‘Darling, I seemed to have had a minor lapse of brain function and your lovely present went through the washing machine and down the drain. It’s probably just lying off the Isle of Wight in fifty feet of water, but I want you to know that I thought t was lovely–what was it again?’

No, that wouldn’t do at all. Think again.

‘Simon darling, you know my lovely present? Um, unfortunately, I um, seem to have put it in the washing machine and um, can’t find it. I don’t suppose it was insured, was it?’

I heard him call me, but I pulled the door closed and rearranged the bedding for the umpteenth time. I was also sweating like I’d run a marathon. Phew it was hot in here. I sat down on a box and my eyes welled up with tears and I sobbed. How could anyone be so stupid? I’d lost my precious present without even laying eyes on it. PhD–ha, how the hell had I achieved that? Tom will probably tell me on his death bed that they only gave it to me out of sympathy, or that Simon paid for it by handing over the nature reserve to the university.

I seemed to have dealt with the issues about my femaleness, now it was realising how stupid I was–and I was teaching degree level students! I shall never live this down–I expect I’ll even be drummed out of the Mammal Society for having a brain smaller than the dormice I claim to study.

The tabloids will love it. I can see it now, Dormouse film maker had sex change instead of cystoscopy. ‘I thought I’d signed up for an examination of my bladder,’ claims man who ended up married to a Lord. He only discovered what had happened two weeks ago–five years after ‘her’ operation and the adoption of ninety four children.’

Was I catastrophising? Just a little. It was more likely to be something like, ‘No wonder she likes dormice–sex change dormouse scientist is found to have a brain the same size as her dormouse’s. Recent scans have shown that Lady Cameron, otherwise known as Dr Cathy Watts, who had complained of feeling something rattling round in her head, actually has the brain of a dormouse. Doctors are now trying to find ways to fill the void with soft packing. Dr Watts says she feels she could sleep all winter...’

I felt even worse as I discovered I’d nodded off to sleep and standing up from the box, I’d over balanced and was now tangled up in the damp bedding, which was when the door opened. I froze.

“Cathy? Cathy, is that you under that bedding?” The voice belonged to my lord and master.

I whimpered my response and felt him tugging at the duvet cover until I was clear of it.

“What the hell are you doing up here?”

“I was hanging up the bedding and fell over and got tangled up in it. I couldn’t get free.” I burst into tears, “I’m sorry, Simon.” I sobbed all over him while he bent down and pulled me to my feet.

“I lost it...” I began to say and he interrupted me.

“You lost your balance, easy enough to do–tell me...” here it comes, “...why has Cate got your new bracelet.”

The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2222 by Angharad Copyright © 2013 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

---

“Cate has my bracelet?”

“Yes.”

“No wonder I couldn’t find it.”

“How did she get it?”

“She must have picked it up.”

He shook his head. “I gathered that much. It’s quite valuable, so please be more careful in future.”

“I will, darling, and thank you so much.” I kissed him and rubbing myself against him he soon forgot about bits of jewellery. However, I had other plans and lunch was part of them, but reclaiming my bracelet was top of the agenda.

I checked the spuds they were pretty well done, then I checked my youngest daughter. She didn’t have my bracelet and when I asked her where it was she just said, “Daddy,” and giggled.

I called Simon to come to lunch along with Sammi, Stella and Jacquie, Danni and the little ones. I served the jacket potatoes with grated cheese and placed the bowl of salad on the table.

When lunch was over I asked Sammi how she’d got on and she shrugged. Simon said, “She’s okay.” I left Sammi to go and start packing her case for her impending hospitalisation.

“Cate didn’t have my bracelet.”

“Oh well, I expect it’ll turn up.”

“She said you had it.”

“Me? Nah, it was definitely she who had it.”

“She said you did.”

“Are you implying I’m lying?”

“You are a banker.”

“Damn, you remembered.”

“Simon, I’m thirty not a hundred and thirty.”

“You look really good for a hundred and thirty, babes.”

“Simon, if you have my bracelet, I’d like to have it back.”

“You lost it, didn’t you?”

I blushed. “I didn’t lose it, I temporarily mislaid it.”

“You lost it.”

Blushing furiously, I said quietly, “I lost it.”

“How did you lose it?”

“It went in the washing machine while I was changing the bed.”

“The washing machine?”

“Yes–I’m sorry.” I felt a tear drip down my face.

“D’you know how much it cost?”

“The fact that you gave it to me means it’s beyond cost.” I managed to get out before the dam burst. He hugged me but he wasn’t going to let me off just yet. He played on my sense of guilt which gave him loads of scope. I’m not Catholic but I do a finely developed sense of guilt for everything since the extinction of the dinosaurs.

“Describe it to me,” he said.

“What?” I sniffed.

“Your bracelet.”

“I–um, can’t.”

“Why not, you shoved it in the washing.”

“It was still in the box–it was in my dressing gown pocket and the box went to bits and...” I burst into tears again.

“For god’s sake give her the bloody bracelet,” commented Stella walking past.

“When I want your opinion...” he started but she ignored him except to give him the finger as she walked away. “Did you see that?” he asked me.

“No,” I lied.

“She gave me the finger.”

“It doesn’t usually worry you.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Motorists do it to you all the time, it doesn’t usually worry you.”

“Yeah, but that was my sister in case you hadn’t noticed, not some lout of a lorry driver.”

“I had noticed, Simon.”

“That she gave me the finger?”

“No, that it was Stella.”

“You women stick together, collusion they call it.”

“My bracelet, if you please.”

“And if I don’t?”

“I hear blue balls can be quite uncomfortable.”

“Typical bloody woman, below the belt again.”

“Simon, it’s the only option I have. If we were to come to blows, I’d probably kill you.”

“True–okay, close your eyes and hold out your hand–and no peeping.”

I did as he instructed and he started rubbing my oozing nipples, laughing out loud when I opened my eyes.

“You pig.” I stormed off to find Lizzie and deal with my double cream dilemma.

He found me a few minutes later sitting in my study feeding Lizzie who smelt a little on the ripe side.

“God, what’s that smell?”

“The by-product of milk and jacket potato.”

“Jeez, it smells awful.”

“Try sitting this close to it.”

“No thanks.”

“You haven’t got my bracelet, have you?” I accused him.

He blushed. “Not exactly.”

“I knew it, you were playing me along.”

“Hark who’s talking? Okay, I played you a long a little, but with one minor difference.”

“What’s that?”

“I’ve actually seen it.”

“Oh,” I blushed. “Is it really valuable?”

“Monetarily? Yeah–it’s a Tim Collins original.”

“Oh,” I said dejectedly.

“I’ve got to go out for a couple of hours.”

“Work?”

“No, going to see my mistress.”

“Thought so.”

“My wife has gone on sex strike because I criticised her.”

“Serves you right.”

“I knew you’d agree with her, you women all stick together.”

“So you said.”

“I have to go.” He pecked me on the cheek and kissed Lizzie on the top of her head which woke her up and she flapped her arms and bit my nipple as she did so. He chuckled as I squeaked and I glared at him.

He went off to his meeting and I changed and bathed Lizzie then went and collected the girls.

I searched the house from top to bottom while Simon sat there not helping one bit with his sarcastic comments. When I asked him if he knew where it was he simply shrugged his shoulders and carried on reading his journal.

The evening wore on and he still didn’t help me which led me to consider he didn’t know where it was, perhaps never had, of which I had no proof.

I finally put the girls to bed and read to them, they wanted more of the Gaby stories, not minding which–they’ve read them all before. When I’d finished I sent Danni off to bed and feeling tired decided I was going to go to bed.

“Mummy,” Sammi came rushing downstairs, “have you heard the news?”

“Obviously not–what’s happened?”

“Nelson Mandela is dead.”

“I suspect they’ve been preparing for this for a long time.”

“Don’t expect sympathy from my wife, she’s in a funny mood today.”

I glared at Simon, “He’s been dying for months.”

“So, it’s still sad.”

“I know but I can’t do anything about it, can I?”

“I don’t know, you’re probably the only person on the planet who could.”

“It’s his time to go, Simon, the blue energy wouldn’t work.”

“How d’you know?”

“If you must know, I tried it before.”

“On him?” Simon was astonished.

“I felt sorry for him, thought he deserved a bit longer in retirement before he died.”

“So it was you who kept him alive?”

“I don’t know, but I hoped he didn’t mind if it was me.”

“You’re a strange woman, babes.”

“You’ve known that for a long time.”

He smirked, “That wasn’t what I meant and you know it.”

I’m going to bed.

Sammi pecked me on the cheek and went back up to her room, Simon switched off the television and followed me up to ours. If he was hoping for some nookie tonight, he’d be unlucky.

I cleaned my teeth and changed into some pyjamas. He washed and undressed waiting for me to get into bed. I drew back the duvet and there on the pillow was the most exquisite gold and sapphire bracelet. I gasped and picked it up. I was absolutely beautiful.

“Oh, the fairies must have found it,” he said jokingly.

“Contrary to some popular belief, my husband is no fairy.”

I thought he was going to explode, instead he burst out laughing and I had to ask him to keep it quiet or he’d wake the baby. “Okay, you got your own back.”

“I love it, thank you so much.” I burst into tears.

“What’s wrong now?”

“To think I nearly lost it, I’d never have forgiven myself.”

He shrugged, “Well, do I get a kiss?”

“If you promise to be very gentle, you might get more than a kiss,” I teased.

“I’ll have you know I’m a gentle man.”

“I love you, Simon Cameron.”

The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2223 by Angharad Copyright © 2013 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

---

I was sore again the next morning but Simon’s words with the troops the day before must have had some effect because none of them commented on my less than flowing movement.

Simon had gone to work early with Sammi, it was her last day as she was down to be admitted on the Friday for surgery the following day. Although we weren’t paying for the surgery, we did make a large donation to the local hospice at the agreement of the surgeon. So to anyone who suggested we could go privately for treatment, we pointed out we had made a payment to the hospice.

I showed the bracelet to the girls and they loved it–mind you, so did I. The blue of the sapphires matched those in my engagement ring and the necklace I had from my mother, originally from my grandmother. The link back to her was important to me. Sadly, it won’t go any further because my adopted children will link to their own grandparents genetically, if not emotionally. Emotionally, they’ll link to Tom, Henry and Monica. What effect that will have on them in the long term only time will tell.

Common sense seems to suggest that adopted children will have more problems than natural children which is probably borne out in some survey statistic somewhere. I suppose even obvious assumptions have to be tested before we can quote them ad nauseum. I’ve had the odd problem with the children from time to time but nothing compared to some adoptive parents. The fact that they wanted us to adopt them has to be a factor and while some have an anger or even disgust of their natural parents, I’m aware that could change later on.

I took the girls to school as per usual and when I got home found we’d had a mail delivery including some Christmas cards. I decided I’d have to try and write some that day and ended up spending most of the day doing it. With a second class stamp costing fifty pence, I was going to reduce the number to a bare necessity. I still did a hundred–cor, fifty pounds just to send the bloody cards.

I looked at those we’d had delivered and there was one for Mima with a foreign stamp on it. I wondered if it was from whom I thought it might be. I collected the girls from school and when we got home I managed to separate Mima off from the others and give her her card.

She spent ages looking at the stamp and the air mail sticker. The postmark was Jo’burg, which is South Africa. She stood there holding it and then looked at me.

“Don’t you want to open it?” I asked her gently.

She looked very sad and her eyes looked very moist. She said nothing but it wouldn’t take a genius to have a guess at what she was thinking.

“Would you like me to open it with you?”

She thought about it for a moment before nodding and handing the card to me. I slit it open with the paperknife. My hand growing sweaty with mild anxiety I extracted the card which had a picture of a Christmas tree with snow on it–about as likely in South Africa as Bradley Wiggins winning another TdF. I held it up for her to see. “Do you want to open it or would you like me to do it?”

She pointed at me so I flipped open the card and read her the verse. ‘Season’s Greetings from South Africa.’ Then I read her the inscription. ‘Dear Jemima, I hope you are happy with your new mummy and daddy. We miss you and think of you often. Love, your old Mummy.’ There was also a hundred dollar bill US variety.

I handed her the card. She carefully removed the money and handed it to me. Then she read the inscription herself, before she burst into tears and shouted in pain, “Bwoody wiar. I hate you,” after which she proceeded to rip the card up and fling the pieces up in the air.

“Excuse me, but it takes me a long time to keep this place clean.” She looked suitably chastened and began picking up the pieces which she handed to me. I was tempted to put them in the bin but I didn’t, I shoved them all back into the envelope and put them on my desk.

I gave her a cuddle and we chatted gently about her original mother and I suggested that she did love her.

“That’s why she abandoned me, is it?”

“I don’t know why she did it, she didn’t tell me, but I know she’s missed out on seeing you growing up and that’s quite important to all parents, but especially mums.”

“That’s ha own fawt. She wan off and weft me, I hate ha.”

“From what I could gather she ran off because she was being chased by all sorts of nasty people and she left you with me because she thought I could offer you a secure home. I hope I have, I’ve certainly tried.”

“I wuv you, Mummy, you my mummy now.”

“I love you too love you too, sweetheart.”

“Don’t wet ha take me away.”

“You have been adopted, Mima. That means she has no legal right to you at all. I’m your mummy now and I intend to keep it that way until or unless you tell me different.”

“I want you as my mummy fo-evva.”

“In which case, I shall be your Mummy as long as I live. Deal?”

“Deaw,” she said and we shook on it.

She went off to change and probably to wash her face with her red eyes from crying an obvious advert to the others to ask awkward questions. I left the card fragments and envelope on my desk and went off to ask David about the dinner. When I returned the envelope had gone and it wasn’t in my waste basket. I said nothing about it but the next day, while making her bed I found it under her mattress. She still had feelings for her birth mother, which I suppose I’d encouraged though I wasn’t sure how I felt about it.

I checked all the bits were still there and she’d stuck it all together with tape and not very neatly either. I suppose if she did it in secret it would be difficult. I thought back to when I first got her and how I somehow managed to achieve the same wavelength as she was on and somehow she trusted me enough to walk again. That was before the blue light became manifest, though perhaps it was in the background. I didn’t know.

We’d been through quite a bit since then, especially when the blue light did save her after she drowned and was practically dead. I’ll never forget that day as long as I live. Her friendship with Trish was what gave Sam Rose the idea to send Trish here and between us, Meems and I got her walking again too.

I went looking for her and found her sitting with Lizzie telling her she’d never abandon her and she’d see to it that her mummy wouldn’t abandon her either, like she had been until I saved her. “My new mummy, made me walk again and she saved me when I dwownded. She’w wook after you too, because she wuvs babies.”

I slipped away, eight years old and she has me analysed to a tee.

The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2224 by Angharad Copyright © 2013 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

---

I drove Sammi to the hospital after taking the girls to school. She sat with her handbag on her lap. She’d left her phone and computer at home after I cautioned her she could get them pinched. However, once she was recovered sufficiently to use them, I’d bring them in for her. She reluctantly agreed.

The car parked, we walked up to the admissions office and then up to the ward. She had the bed next to the window which was excellent–she’d be able to use her wi-fi device to get on the net, to access her facebook page and so on. I had no interest in having one of those even if it would help me sell more of my dormouse books. In my opinion it would also enable more people to become more aware of me–I’m shy, so I make films? Yeah–okay, go figure. I don’t do social networking so don’t look for me twittering either–load of saddos.

I’ve learned that I don’t need to be in contact with someone every two seconds, in fact I seem able to cope with several hours of solitude without needing to tweet about it or post photos of it on fb. I get enough spam now don’t need that lot as well.

I settled Sammi in kissed her goodbye and left her to sit in the chair by her bed with a book. A nurse was walking purposefully towards her holding something which might just be a suppository. I made my get away promising to come and see her later.

The day before she’d had a Brazilian wax; so at least she didn’t have to shave although in another week she’d probably feel like she had a porcupine in her panties; or at least a hedgehog. Saw another dead one, in the hospital car park, why people can’t see them and avoid running them over annoys me. If I can see them, so should others.

Danni was a bit moody this morning. She’s the only one now who hasn’t been ‘sorted’ and as I’ve said before, I’m still not convinced she’s transsexual, though given the time she’s spent as girl, I do believe she has some transgender element.

When I got home Danni showed off. Her tutor was ill and had sent her some homework by email, but she was wandering round the house seeking excuses to avoid doing it.

“Danni, please go and do the work your tutor set you.”

“Yeah, in a minute.”

“No, not in a minute–now, please.”

“Get off my back will you?”

“I think I’m going to send you to St Clare’s.”

“I won’t go.”

“You’ll do what I say, young lady.”

“I’ll tell them I’m a boy.”

“A boy with breasts?”

“I’m not taking enough to grow proper boobs, am I? Not like Pia or Cindy.”

“Dr Cauldwell has prescribed what she believes is sufficient oestrogen for you at the moment, plus the testosterone blocker and I agree with her.”

“No you don’t, you don’t want me to have breasts, do you?”

“Danni, this is getting tiresome. I told you I would support whatever Dr Cauldwell suggested. You’re growing breasts and I suspect your waistline has narrowed, so what’s the problem?”

“You don’t believe I’m a girl, do you?”

“That’s why I’ve allowed you to take hormones and bought you over a thousand pounds worth of girl’s clothes–no, I don’t think you are at all.”

My sarcasm washed over her without any of it penetrating her consciousness. She turned away from me and made towards the stairs. “Do your homework,” I called to her disappearing back.

For the next hour I was tied up with feeding Lizzie and sorting her out and it was only when David asked me if Danni would be back for lunch that I realised she’d gone out. “Back for lunch? She’s supposed to be doing some work her tutor sent her.”

“Well I passed her in the drive, she was going off on her mountain bike.”

“The little besom, you’d better call and ask her, I’ll probably blow a gasket.” I walked out to my study and sat down. She’d deliberately ignored my instruction–for that she would pay. I picked up the phone.

I sent an email to Simon who agreed with me and asked if I wanted him to speak with her. I replied that he could if he wanted but this needed some resolution and as they’d agreed to take her after Christmas, I decided that was what we were going to do. Sometime in the next few days I’d have to get her some uniforms and of course we’d have to pay the fees.

Sister Maria had offered her a place before hand but I’d declined not feeling she was secure enough to act like a school girl. Perhaps I was wrong, she certainly looked the part these days especially after the pills which had transformed her face into a much more female looking one.

I returned to the kitchen and David informed me Danni would be back in time for tea, she’d be going to see her sister in hospital in the afternoon and was having lunch at Pia’s. I’d worked out it wasn’t Cindy she was with as Cindy was in school. Oh well in a couple of weeks so would she–and I suspect that would make or break her femaleness in a matter of weeks. It would be hard to pretend to be a girl in a girl’s school unless you really believed you were, and to keep it up at that level every day.

It was going to cost me several thousand in fees but it would be almost worth it to get to the bottom of what she was up to. Part of me almost felt that she wasn’t so much a girl as someone who didn’t want to be a boy anymore. I know there are a small number of people who don’t feel they fit in either sex and an even smaller number who want to be no sex at all, but I’m not sure she fits those categories either. I called Stephanie and left her a message to say what I’d done.

She called me back at lunch. “You’ve enrolled Danni at St Clare’s?”

“Yes. She’s becoming harder to handle and I thought if I sent her there at least I’d know where she was some of the time.”

“Oh dear, like that is it?”

“Steph, she’s become so wilful recently.”

“Cathy, she’s thirteen–they’re all like that–it’s the mother daughter thing.”

“If that’s the case would she listen to Simon?”

“She might.”

“Is this due to those pills?”

“Cathy, she’s only taking a minute dose.”

“Yeah but with the testy blockers...”

“Okay, that would increase the effect but it sounds much more a teenage thing and as she sees you as her mother and you see her as your daughter, you’re both role playing perfectly.”

“I’m trying to keep her safe and hopefully enable her to make her mind up about what she wants to be in terms of career as well as gender.”

“I’m sure she appreciates what you do for her.”

“If she does she’s making a good job of hiding it from us.”

“Relax, Cathy, she’ll be alright.”

“She’s gone off to see that screwball, Pia.”

“Oh, has she?”

“What does that mean?”

“Nothing. If you want me to bring forward her next appointment, let me know. Gotta go Emily wants her lunch.”

I found her reassurance about Pia no reassurance at all. That kid was a loose cannon and if she wasn’t careful, I’d be opening the gun ports and stirring up some turbulence to see if she went overboard and sank, preferably without trace.

The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2225 by Angharad Copyright © 2013 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

---

Somehow Danni managed to avoid me during dinner after which I went to see Sammi in hospital. “Feeling nervous?” I asked smirking.

“It’s all right for you,” she replied.

“It’s nothing.”

“I know I really want this done but I’m dead nervous.”

“It’s not that bad, I found it more uncomfortable than painful.”

“Yeah, but without my computer and phone, I feel so–I dunno, like a fish out of water.”

“I suppose you could have had them with you and I could have taken them back this evening.”

“Dunno, every time I turned round they were either shoving things up my bum to make me crap or pouring laxatives down my throat. If I do any more I’m gonna need a relining of my arse.”

“They have to try and clean you out to reduce infection risk, remember the opening will be a few centimetres from your anus.”

“Yeah, shows the blind watchmaker stuff is crap, doesn’t it?”

“You mean in terms of poor design?”

“Yeah, vaginas and anuses next to each other.”

“Be thankful you’re not a sea urchin.”

“Why?”

“They have their mouth next to their anus.”

“Not gonna kiss one of them, then.”

“Wouldn’t recommend it.”

We continued to stroll round the hospital talking as we went. “Danni came in this afternoon.”

“She’s been avoiding me.”

“What’s she done now?”

“Nothing that I’m aware of, except she went off to see Pia instead of doing her homework.”

“Nothing new there then.”

“I don’t like her seeing Pia. I feel sorry for the kid and I admit I did encourage contact before I realised that she’s bonkers.”

“She was asking me all sorts of things about the operation.”

“What for?”

“I don’t know, Mummy.”

“Even if she decided it was what she wanted, she’d have to wait another five years.”

“I don’t know what she’s about, I really don’t.”

“You and me both. I don’t think Stephanie has a definite diagnosis, or if she has she’s awaiting confirmation.”

“I’ll be glad when tomorrow is over.”

“Sammi, darling, it’ll be fine, Mr O’Rourke is a brilliant surgeon.”

“Yeah, I’m just uneasy in hospitals.”

“I think we all are.”

“Is Danni on hormones?”

“Yes and T-blockers.”

“Crikey, I had to wait until I was eighteen to get them. If she is transgender she’s so lucky to have you as a mother.”

I blushed, “The problem is I don’t think she is, and I wonder if my known sympathies are skewing things somewhat.”

“What you mean she thinks she’s one of us because she’s living with us?”

“It could be an accusation that was thrown at me if she was wrongly diagnosed.”

“I hadn’t thought of that. You know Julie doesn’t think she’s tg.”

“Yeah, Julie has said so a few times.”

“You agree with her?”

“Probably, there’s just something I can’t put my finger on.”

“Mind you, she’s stuck at the cross dressing longer than I thought she would.”

“Yes, but sometimes I think she sees that as a way of challenging my scepticism.”

“Why did Stephanie give her the hormones?”

“I suspect because Cindy’s taking them, she also considered that if there was some sort of psychosexual element, it would reduce that.”

We stopped and had a cup of tea, after midnight it was water only for Sammi. “God, I’m hungry,” she said.

“Sorry, kiddo, but I don’t think you’d want your op cancelled because you ate something, now, would you?”

“No, let’s go back–give my love to all of them.”

“I will. They’ll probably give you something to help you sleep if you ask them.”

“The nurse said something about it earlier. I think I probably will. Were you this nervous?”

“Not really, I had every confidence in the surgeon and I wanted it so badly.”

“What if it goes wrong?”

“It’s possible but so unlikely. O’Rourke is absolutely brilliant.”

“Oh well, we’ll know in twenty four hours, won’t we?”

“We will indeed, darling, now you try and get some sleep and good luck tomorrow, we’ll come in as soon as they say you're well enough to have visitors.”

“Thanks, Mummy.” She went to hug me, “God, I feel sick.” She rushed off to the loo.

“Anything wrong?” asked the staff nurse.

“No, I think she’s just frightened about tomorrow.”

“We’ll look after her.”

“She knows that, I think it’s just a bit of nerves.”

“She does want it done?”

“Oh yes. I don’t think there’s any doubt of that but she’s been waiting for the past year, and she says since she was a child.”

“An early Christmas present, then.”

“I suppose it is.”

Sammi reappeared and said she felt okay. Even if she didn’t, she wouldn’t say anything to postpone her date with destiny. We hugged and I left her to try and sleep while I went home to deal with Danni. She was doing her homework so I left her to it. I’d have it out with her tomorrow.

Simon and I chatted for short time before we went to sleep, he was looking forward to having Sammi back at work and pleased she’d feel complete at last.

Life has a way of interfering in one’s plans, so it was on the Sunday. At breakfast I became aware that Danni wasn’t with us. “Where is that girl?” I asked the others. “If I find out she was on the internet half the night, I’ll shoot her.”

“Want me to go and see?” offered Trish, who for once was behaving herself. As I was munching my way though banana on toast I nodded. I’d just finished eating and was about to start tidying up the table when Trish came dashing back.

“Walk, please, Trish,” I gently reprimanded her.

“She’s not there.”

“Who isn’t?” asked Simon.

“Danni. Mummy asked to see where she was, she’s not in her bedroom.”

“Where’s she gone then?” asked Si.

“I dunno, do I?” replied number one genius.

“She didn’t say anything about going to see anyone?”

“Not to me,” confirmed Trish.

“Nor me,” agreed Livvie.

I had a bad feeling about this and went dashing up to Danni’s room. There was nothing there to show where she’d gone. The bed had been slept in, so she must have gone off very early. Why?

I went briskly down to the bike shed and her mountain bike was missing. She’s gone to see Cindy, I’ll bet seeing as she was with Pia yesterday. I tried calling her mobile but no one answered. I was now becoming very worried.

I dialled Cindy’s number and spoke to Brenda, her mother. “Hi it’s Cathy Cameron.”

“Hello, Cathy, how are you–all set for Christmas?”

“Getting there, by Easter I should have managed it.”

She laughed. “How is Danni, haven’t seen her for a while?”

My tummy did a somersault with tuck and pike before landing again. “Fine, she’s gone off early this morning, she must have gone to Pia. Okay, if I don’t see you beforehand, have a lovely Christmas.”

She wanted to chat and I wanted to go. Finally I got rid of her and rang Pia’s house. There was no answer. Bugger, where the hell is she?

I’d no sooner put the phone down when it rang.

“Hello?”

“Is that Lady Cameron?”

“Yes, who is that?”

“This is the QA, we’ve got your child here, she’s in surgery.”

“Yes I know, Sammi.”

“No, this isn’t about Sammi...”

The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2226 by Angharad Copyright © 2013 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

---

My blood froze, it wasn’t Sammi.

“Are you sure it’s my child?”

“The woman who came in with her said you were her mother.”

“What Danni?”

“Danielle Maiden, is that correct?”

“What happened?”

“I can’t tell you over the phone.”

“Where is she?”

“Come to A&E.”

“I’m on my way.”

“Danni’s in hospital, I have to dash.”

“Get her some clean clothes, Simon get the car ready,” Stella barked at us and I dashed upstairs and packed a case with a couple of nightdresses, some toiletries, toothbrush, some makeup and as I closed the case I wondered what had happened. I’m going to have two of them in there now.

Simon dropped me outside A&E and went off to park the car, I ran into the entrance hall realising I still had my slippers on. Fortunately they can pass as light shoes, but I knew they were my slippers. I spoke to reception to be told she was in surgery and that a social worker was being paged to come and see me. Wonderful–all I need is for them to consider I’m a poor mother and they might look to settle some old grudges with me. I felt a little happier when Simon arrived before the social worker.

We sat together neither of us knowing what had happened to Danni but it must be nasty if they’ve sent for a social worker. I was lost in my thoughts when I heard someone calling my name.

“Mr and Mrs Cameron?”

I looked up and there before stood a man who looked like a young Denzil Washington. We shook hands and he told us his name was Michael Moses. He led us off to a consulting room just beyond reception.

“You realise that when a child is badly injured we become involved?”

We both nodded but he stifled our questions with a wave explaining that he needed to ask us some questions. “Why is your son wearing girl’s clothes and calling himself, Danielle?”

“Because that’s how she wants to present herself.”

“Are you sure it’s not you who want him to dress like a girl?”

“We’re not answering any further questions until either we have a lawyer here or you start telling us what the hell has happened.”

“I don’t do intimidation, I work to the law.”

“Are we under arrest?”

“No, this is all voluntary.”

“It was, we’re leaving and we’re speaking to the doctor in charge.”

“Mr Cameron, your son is in surgery.”

“What?” I gasped. “What happened to her?”

“It seems her friend tried to give her a sex change.”

“Oh my god, no wonder she snuck out of the house early. Surely she didn’t agree to this?”

“She was admitted by ambulance suffering from severe damage to her genitals and blood loss. Her surgeon is in custody as are both her parents.” He paused while I dealt with my shock. “Now you see why I have to ask you some questions, there could well be a police investigation arising from this.”

I nodded and Simon’s grip on my sweaty hand loosened a little.

“I see that nearly every male who has entered your household has ended up switching gender.”

I shrugged.

“One or maybe two I could deem unusual but possibly coincidence, but you seem to do it on an industrial scale.”

Simon’s hand tightened on my own. “It isn’t what you think,” he said.

“Isn’t it? It’s got to be one helluvah coincidence that every boy you meet wants to change sex–is it because you did?”

“No. There is a perfectly good explanation for each one except Danielle. To be honest I was unhappy when he wanted us to start treating him like a girl. I called in Dr Stephanie Cauldwell to assess him and she advised allowing him to be her until she grew out of it. Neither of us saw this coming.”

“Would you mind if I spoke with Dr Cauldwell about Daniel.”

“I’d be grateful if you could give her the courtesy of referring to her in the gender she currently prefers.”

He gave me a filthy look and it seemed he was just trying to find an excuse to label me some sort of pervert. However, after I spoke to him for an hour about the children’s histories he sounded as if he was losing a bit of his prejudice. He was calling Danni, Danielle at the end.

“Do we know how badly she’s injured?” I asked.

“I don’t have details except major loss of blood and genital mutilation. Good job Mr O’Rourke was here today.”

“He’s operating on her?”

“Yes.”

“My other daughter is on one of the wards, d’you mind if I go and see her?”

“I think we’ve finished for the moment, please don’t leave the hospital without speaking to me first.”

I agreed and then Simon and I went up to the surgical ward to see Sammi sitting by her bed with a face like thunder. We went in and she smiled and we hugged and then she hugged Simon. “Can you believe it, I’m just about ready to go down for prepping and the sister came in and told me they’d just had an emergency and Mr O’Rourke was called to theatre. Just my flipping luck.”

“That’s the only problem of being seen in a main hospital, emergencies take priority.”

“Yeah, but–well, you know how worked up I was last night...”

“Tell her,” said Simon.

“Tell me what?” Sammi looked curiously at me.

“The reason you’ve been postponed.”

“An emergency–so they said.”

“It’s Danni.”

“What? What’s happened to her?”

“Let’s go for a little walk.” Simon suggested looking round at the otherwise bored ladies lying on their beds or sitting beside them.

Telling the sister where she was going, Sammi accompanied us down to a small apse in the corridor and we sat and talked and I told her what we’d gleaned from the social worker.

“So the little cow has done a DIY job even though she knows I was down to be done today. I hope she bloody well bleeds to death, selfish little shit.”

“I hope you don’t mean that,” I said quietly.

“But she knew I was being done today–why has she screwed this up for me?”

“I don’t know, sweetheart.”

“She knew how worried I was about it.”

“We all knew that, I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

“God knows when I’ll get done now...”

“I’ll speak with O’Rourke and arrange something as soon as possible, even if I have to pay for it.” Simon poured some oil on stormy waters and Sammi relaxed a little.

“Thank you, Daddy, I do appreciate it.” She hugged him and kissed him on the cheek.

A nurse walked up and said, “Mr and Mrs Cameron, you’re wanted down in A&E.” We hugged and kissed with Sammi and escorted her back to the ward then went downstairs to the A&E reception.

“What’s been going on here?” asked Ken Nicholls.

“I wish I knew,” I shrugged.

“Mick is on his way down, I think your girl is going to survive, but I hope she doesn’t want to revert, I think she just joined the female team on a permanent basis.”

The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2227 by Angharad Copyright © 2013 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

---

“If it isn’t me darlin’ Lady Cameron,” announced the arrival of Mick O’Rourke, consultant urologist.

“Mr O’Rourke,” I nodded but he held out his hand and when I went to shake it he took my hand and kissed it. He then shook hands with Simon.

“Dat was your girl, wasn’t it?”

“Danielle, yes.”

“And dere’s anudder up on da ward?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, she’s gonna hafta wait a bit, but Oil do her later t’day.”

“What about Danni?”

“Ah, dat’s anudder matter. It seems she let her friend–an’ I use da term loosely–castrate her and remove da meatus from her penis. Oi’m surprised she didn’t bleed t’ death.”

“So what have you been able to do?”

“Oi’ve finished da job, she’s now got a vagina and small clitoris–Oi found enough of da penile head to do dat. She shoulda bled t’death, so she should. So she’s a girl wedder she wants t’ be or not. An act of stupidity. How old is dis friend of hers?”

“Thirteen.”

“What? Dat’s amazin’, thirteen an’ she nearly out operates me. If dey don’t lock her up, she could have a future as a surgeon.”

“Will you speak to Sammi?” I asked him, “Or would you like us to?”

“You can do it, tell her some toime dis afternoon, if dere’s no emergencies. You haven’t anymore boys?”

“Um–no.”

“Dis afternoon, den.” He bid us goodbye before I could ask if we could see Danni. I asked Ken Nicholls who said this evening would be the best time as she’d not come round from the anaesthetic until about then.

“She let someone do that to her without any anaesthetic?” he commented.

“I don’t know what happened, she obviously planned something but quite what I have no idea. She was gone before we noticed anything.” I said, adding, “If I’d known what she was up to, I’d have locked her in her room.”

“I’ve never heard of any such thing before.” His pager sounded, “I doubt if even you would be able to put Humpty Dumpty together again. I must go, au revoir,” he bowed and left us.

“What did that mad Irishman say?” asked Simon.

“Essentially, somehow Danni let Pia dissect out her genitalia leaving the skin and a bit of the head to form a vagina and clitoris. At least that’s what I think he said.”

“So I have another daughter–full stop?”

“Looks like it. I just can’t understand why?”

“Maybe she’ll tell us later.”

“If she survives.”

“Surely that’s not in doubt is it? Not in a modern hospital like this?” Simon looked very worried.

“I wish I knew why she did it?”

My mobile started to ring and I stepped into a quiet corner to answer it. It was Stephanie.

“What the hell is going on?” she asked bluntly.

“It appears that Danielle got her friend Pia to castrate her and dissect out most of her penis.”

“You’re joking?”

“I wish I were, Simon and I are at the QA waiting to find out how she is. Mr O’Rourke has done a vaginoplasty with the bits that are left.”

“Oh my god–well knock me down with a feather.”

“Sammi is rather miffed as Danni stole her theatre time.”

“What, your Sammi?”

“Yes.”

“Until I’ve spoken with her it looks like a case of jealousy.”

“That’s all I could think, but to let someone do that to you? It’s like something out of the eighteenth century before the advent of anaesthetics.”

“No anaesthetic–oh my giddy aunt.”

“Well how would two thirteen year olds get hold of a general anaesthetic?”

“How do I know? What’s happened to Pia?”

“I don’t know, I’ve got a social worker on my back and I half expect the police to become involved.”

“But you didn’t sanction this.”

“I know, but I didn’t notice she was missing for a while either.”

“She is thirteen and has some degree of autonomy.”

“I don’t know if that’s any defence in the eyes of the law.”

“I can’t believe she let someone do that to her, I need counselling to squeeze a spot.”

“I have to go, Steph, looks like the police are here.”

“Lady Cameron, could we have a word?” asked a rather tall but polite policeman whom I followed to the room where I’d spoken to the social worker. He was still in residence. The copper stood by the door as we were introduced to a Detective Inspector Joyce. I hoped her first name wasn’t the same as her surname. It wasn’t it was Jane. DI Jane Joyce, I wonder if her parents had literary illusions?

“Lady Cameron, why did your son let his friend hack off his penis and testicles?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know, yet you allowed him to go about in girl’s clothes and call himself Danielle? Hardly normal behaviour, is it?”

“It was for her.”

“Her? He’s a boy–or was.”

“She asked to be allowed to live like a girl.”

“And you let her?”

“Yes.”

“Because you’ve done it before?”

“Yes.”

“How many times?”

“Four but one died.”

“Not from genital mutilation?”

“No, a brain aneurysm.”

“So, every male child you’ve had has changed their gender?”

“Yes.”

“And you haven’t sought to encourage this?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“I think I’d like a lawyer present,” said Simon firmly.

“Why? What have you got to hide?”

“Nothing, but these questions are irrelevant.”

“Are they?” asked the DI and the social worker nodded agreement.

“Of the four biological male children who came into my care, two were already presenting as female when I met them. We simply allowed them to continue as they wanted on the proviso that they could revert if they wanted without any comebacks whatsoever.”

“So why didn’t they?”

“Presumably because they seemed happier presenting and living and being accepted as females.”

“Are you sure you didn’t encourage them?”

“If you ask that once more without a lawyer here, I’m going to put in a complaint.” Simon stood up and dialled his mobile. “Jason, get your arse down to the QA immediately, we’re in A&E being bullied by a detective.” Simon was obviously listening to instructions. “Okay, mate. Sorry Inspector, this interview is postponed until our counsel arrives.”

“I could always arrest you?”

“Feel free, but even then we don’t have to say anything without a lawyer present.”

“Very well, please don’t attempt to leave the hospital.”

“We won’t,” Simon said firmly. Instead we went and got a cup of coffee and told Sammi she would be done later. Her mood lifted immediately.

“How is Danni?”

“I don’t know, we haven’t been able to see her yet.”

“Give her my love.”

“We will.”

It took a further hour before Jason sent the police off with their tails between their legs. The lead up to what had happened would only become necessary if charges were being laid, and as we weren’t the party guilty of the assault or mutilation, being unaware of it and being against it, it looked like Pia and her parents would bear the brunt of the police investigation. Jason managed to discover that Pia was in custody as were her parents, even though they also claimed no knowledge of what was happening and only discovered it when Danni screamed. It appears she let Pia anaesthetise her with chloroform which they’d managed to get for supposedly killing laboratory specimens.

I was shocked.

The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2228 by Angharad Copyright © 2013 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

---

“You still here?” asked an Irish voice.

“Yes, the police have told us not to leave the hospital.”

“Whoi?”

“They seem to think we’re responsible for what happened to Danni.”

“How’s dat, you we’ren’t dere were you?”

“No, we didn’t realise she’d left home. Apparently, Pia, the child who did the surgery used chloroform on Danni.”

“Jesus, Mary and Joseph, dat’s loik some ting from da ark. Nasty stuff.”

“What did Pia actually do to her?”

“She opened up da scrotum and emptied it, den slit up da penis and removed much of da spongy tissue, a bit loik skinnin’ a sausage. Fortunately, dere was enough of da head left t’ make a clitoris an’ enough skin to line a vagina. She moight need surgery later on if she grows much.”

“Like Trish will?”

“Exactly dat, now excuse me if ya will, Oi’ve an date wid your udder daughter, takin’ her t’ da teatre.” He went off to change into his scrubs.

We discovered that Danni had been put in a single room on the women’s surgical ward. We went to ask how she was and the sister recognised me. “You’re that woman the miracles happen round, aren’t you?”

“I could do with one right now,” I replied.

“She’s quite poorly, lost a lot of blood from the assault. So perhaps you’d better go and sit with her, she needs all the help she can get.”

In the single room lay our new daughter connected to a drip containing a bag of blood. She looked very pale and small. There was one of those oxygen mask things over her nose and mouth and she was wearing a hospital gown. I burst into tears and Simon pulled me to him and told me she’d be okay.

“I wish I had your confidence,” I sobbed.

“She will because you’re here.”

“Oh Si, what if I can’t do anything?”

“Don’t be silly, just give her your love and she’ll be better in no time–you’ll see.”

Approaching the bed I smoothed the back of her hand, “Hello, poppet, Daddy and I are here, so you’re going to be just fine. Just listen to my voice and follow me and I’ll make you well again.”

I sat down beside her and took hold of her hand, Simon sat the other side and watched as I talked with her. A nurse came in to check her blood pressure and oxygen levels. “Comin’ on nicely,” she replied to my question.

I settled down to talk Danni back to health and to help her deal with any trauma she felt from what happened at Pia’s. I seemed to be drifting in a dark void when I suddenly watched the action on what seemed like a cinema screen. Danni had just arrived at Pia’s and they went into the garage.

“Did you see Sammi?”

“Yeah, yesterday after I left here. I’m dead jealous, once she’s been done I’ll be the only odd one out–the rest will be proper girls–except me. I gotta wait another four an’ a half bloody years.” Danni looked round the garage, “What’s the sheet for?”

“An experiment I’m gonna do later.”

“What sort of experiment?” asked Danni.

“I’ll tell you later. You could make yourself look female down there by pushing your balls up into your cavity and pulling the scrotal skin over your willie.”

“How’s that gonna stay there?”

“Glue or a couple of stitches.”

“Stitches? How am I supposed to do that?”

“I could do it for you.”

“Oh sure, like I’m gonna let you sew my dick.”

“Not your dick, your scrotal skin, lemme show you.”

Somehow Danni allowed Pia to push her penis back and pull the skin of her scrotum round the front of it. I blushed, I knew this procedure too well myself.

“It’s gonna hurt, it’s hurtin’ now and you haven’t pushed my balls back up yet.”

“I got some stuff that will ease that a bit.”

“I dunno, what if you just try gluing it?”

“Okay, here let me get the stuff, you sit down there.” In the next moment Pia had poured chloroform onto a cloth and held it to Danni’s face. She struggled then passed out. Moments later, Pia wiped her hands over with an alcohol wipe and pulled on latex examination gloves, grabbed a scalpel and fitted a blade, wiped Danni’s genitals with a mediwipe, tightened tourniquet around the base of his scrotum and the next moment she’d sliced right up the scrotum and the penis, severing the testes and then carving away the erectile tissue from her penis. I felt quite ill seeing it done like a butcher skinning a rabbit.

Somehow Danni came round saw the blood and presumably felt pain screamed and blacked out, which was when Pia’s Dad came running into the garage saw the blood almost fainted, shouted for his wife to call an ambulance, told Pia to stay where she was and rushed off coming back with a handful of cloth to try and stem the bleeding.

The ambulance arrived gasped and placing a dressing over the wound rushed Danni to hospital. It was awful.

“You all right, babes?” I felt Simon shaking me.

“Uh, what?” I said coming back to the present.

“You went awfully pale.”

“Did I?”

“You okay, want a drink of water?”

“Please.”

He went and got me one by which time I was starting to recover. I sipped it and he fussed over me like a mother hen. “Sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine. I saw what happened. It’s not Danni’s fault, she was duped into it and once under the chloroform, couldn’t resist.”

“You going to press charges?”

“I can hardly tell a judge what I saw in a trance, can I?”

“No but Danni might remember.”

“I think I’d prefer she forget and jus try to live the best she can as a girl. Did I tell you I’m enrolling her at St Clare’s.”

“No–when was this?”

“I wanted her to learn to socialise better as a girl than with just the family and Cindy and Pia.”

“Doesn’t Cindy go there?”

“Yes, but I don’t think Cindy’s the problem, it’s that little psychopath, Pia, who is. We returned to the room and Danni was sleeping peacefully. The nurse came in and changed the bag of blood. I resumed sitting back by my girl and held her hand.

“Ah, the blue stuff has returned, it was flowing from you into her like mad, it’s doing it again.”

I couldn’t see it, but I could feel something happening. “Perhaps it’ll allow her willie to regrow?” I said jokingly to Simon only to have a small voice beside me say, ‘I hope not.’

I spun round to see her and she smiled weakly. “Hello, darling, how d’you feel?”

“Sleepy,” she yawned. “Do I look like a girl now?”

“Sweetheart, you are a girl, now.”

“Oh good,” she almost whispered before drifting off to sleep again.

I sat healing on her for another hour but all she did was sleep. A short while later the nurse told us Sammi was back in the ward and Mr O’Rourke sent his compliments and to tell us it went well.

“C’mon, babes, let’s go home and tell the others the news.”

The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2229 by Angharad Copyright © 2013 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

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Thanks to Jason, the police had gone as had the social worker. He’d buzzed off. I smirked as I considered the awful pun I’d just made, which also contradicted biological norms. Okay, I’ll explain. In crosswords, a social worker is usually a bee or wasp or ant. The biological contradiction–workers are female in the hymenoptera.

Back at home we had to explain what had happened to Danni, the adults were horrified and the girls were delighted–she was now a girl for good. I realised I’d have to speak to them about it all. I also thought I’d have to speak to myself about the new reality, because somehow I still couldn’t reconcile my image of Danni with someone who was the proud possessor of a vagina–it just wouldn’t compute. I kept seeing him as the antsy boy who helped his football team win a trophy, not some girly girl who spent all day trying to decide what to wear.

David had left us a meal which could be warmed up in the microwave. Simon ate his and half of mine. I wasn’t hungry and went for a shower instead. I had a cuppa and a biscuit and it was time to go back to the hospital to see both my daughters. Julie wanted to come with me and so did Trish. I greed they could but tomorrow the others would get a go. That seemed to satisfy everyone. Simon stayed home to help look after the others if he could stay awake–which was unlikely, given how much he’d eaten.

I drove us in and we went to see Danni first. Trish wanted to take her a present, so we bought her a soft toy from a supermarket on the way, we also got one for Sammi.

Danni was still very sleepy and Trish and I did some healing on her while Julie went off to see how Sammi was. I expected her to be a bit dopy as she’d gone down for surgery so late.

I so wanted to be able to talk with Danni about what happened, if not for her sake, then for mine. I was still very uncomfortable about it all. Trish was so pleased to see her and nearly hugged her to death, welcoming her to the female camp. I found it poignant rather than pleasant and hoped I was wrong for Danni’s sake. While Danni was awake, she seemed pleased to be a girl–I still wasn’t convinced and I dreaded the possible scenario that we could end up with someone who was effectively a FtM, wishing that she was a boy or man, but with broad hips and breasts which shout female.

I tried to analyse my doubts. Was I merely feeling jealous–yet another adolescent had gone through the system–albeit by cheating–younger than I had, and I’d been convinced I was a girl from about age two. So was I just jealous of them all? I could be, perhaps I needed to see Anne Thomas again. It had been a long time.

We left Danni to rest and went to see Sammi, who was also sleeping off her anaesthetic, so a bored Julie was sitting there reading the computer magazine she’d got for her and holding the teddy bear.

“She’s out to lunch,” said Julie.

“Don’t be silly, she’s lying in the bed and it’s too late for lunch. Lunch is eaten at lunch time,” protested Trish. I snorted trying not to laugh and Julie just erupted in laughter which got us a glower from the staff nurse in charge of the ward.

“What’s so funny?” asked a very puzzled juvenile.

“You,” said Julie which nearly started World War three. I managed to pour oil on troubled waters and explained that Julie hadn’t been talking literally but had been talking in an allegorical way–her body was there but her consciousness wasn’t because she was asleep. Once she understood it she was fine, so Julie was safe for a few more hours. It amused me that someone who could understand Quantum Mechanics missed out on the more mundane things, which just demonstrates how we all differ in our capacities and capabilities.

Sammi did wake for a short time and thanked Julie for the teddy. I managed to stop Trish from correcting her, because I’d bought it. Sammi said she was so relieved it was done at last and Julie smirked saying the fun bit started once they took the packing out and shoved a dilator in. Trish nodded–she does a bit of dilation with a smaller bullet, compared to the anti-tank ordnance Julie uses. I use Simon, a remotely operated, self warming dilator.

We left the hospital with both our girls on the same ward but some little distance away, Danni in the private room–presumably because of her age and the nature of her aetiology.

Home again, I felt exhausted and after a cup of tea, I fed Lizzie and went to bed. I was asleep long before Simon arrived and didn’t stir when he did. I did wake during the night having strange dreams of Danni crying herself to sleep as a young woman who regretted ever having put on a skirt and wished she’d stayed a football mad boy.

I woke with my face all wet with tears and I prayed to anything out there that might listen, that my dream was wrong and she’d make a happy and healthy girl. Anything else was too awful to contemplate. I went for a wee and had a small drink of water before getting back into bed and trying to sleep once more. Fortunately, I went off quite quickly and if I had any other funny dreams, I didn’t remember them. I woke feeling still tired at seven o’clock with Simon snoring away beside me.

The news continued to be full of Nelson Mandela and his memorial service which every politician who tried to demonstrate credibility tried to attend. Our namesake was there, representing the Bullingdon club. Obama was there, bathing in the reflected glory of having known Mandela. In fact every Tom, Dick or Harry was there. Harry wasn’t there but his dad was, representing his mum, HM the Queen.

I switched off the radio and Simon grumbled he’d been listening to it. I switched it back off and went for a wee and a shower, but not together. He was still ‘listening’ when I emerged swathed in towels, though his snoring did tend to suggest he was listening unconsciously. He woke up as I switched it off again, grumbled but not for long when I told him to get up instead of lying abed.

He sat up and yawned. I then asked him what he thought of what had happened yesterday.

“It was a bit scary, but I knew you’d sort her out.”

“What if I haven’t?”

“She’s not going to die of some awful complication, is she?”

“No, I meant more of what if her swapping genders is a big mistake?”

“She seemed happy enough yesterday.”

“She was still full of anaesthetic yesterday. She wouldn’t have known the difference if you told her you were Justin Bieber.”

“Bieber? Yes she would, Timberlake, maybe not.”

Some days I do wonder what happens in between his ears, but then he’s a man, so probably very little. Mind you he does read Banker’s Weekly (no Spoonerism here) from cover to cover and he absorbs it like blotting paper.

The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2230 by Angharad Copyright © 2013 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

---

The next day after breakfast I rang the hospital and asked how my two girls were. According to the sister, they were fine. I then asked if I could visit my younger child because I wanted to be there in case the police arrived. As far as I knew the case was still open. Reluctantly, she agreed but told me if any of the consultants wanted to see their patient, I was to make myself scarce. Having little choice I agreed. I didn’t tell the others where I was going, and got Jacquie to take them to school and to pick them up later as I wasn’t sure of my availability.

I arrived at the hospital and paid for a long term parking space. I spotted the porter who did parking duties and explained that I might be in the hospital all day and explained I had a sick child there and he told me not to worry. He also told me to apply to the reception office for a parking pass. I did but they were a bit reluctant to issue one until the sister spoke with them. I asked who else might validate it and they agreed a consultant could. I dialled my mobile and managed to catch Sam Rose who said he’d heard about Danni and would be along to see her later. I asked if I could have a word with him later and he told me that was fine. I passed my phone to the receptionist and after speaking to Dr Rose, she issued the parking pass. I dashed down and stuck it on the car.

Up in the ward I waved to Sammi who was sitting up in bed reading her magazine. I told her I’d bring in her iPad later. I actually had it in my bag but wouldn’t push my luck with the nurses. With that, the sister poked her head round from inside a curtain and asked if I had it with me. I said I did and she told me to take it to Sammi now. When I did Sammi smirked and said she’d promised to show the sister how to do something on it.

In Danni’s single room, I sat down and saw she was looking moderately well but her spark was missing. She was pleased to see me and we had a little hug whereupon she burst into tears.

“What’s the matter, sweetheart?”

“I’m sorry, Mummy.”

“Sorry for what?”

“I didn’t want to wait until I was eighteen.”

“To do what?”

“To be a proper girl.”

I ruffled her hair and told her it was okay and having or not having surgery made no difference to me. As far as I was concerned if she was acting like a girl, I’d accept and treat her as one and so would everyone else.

We chatted a little before I asked her if she remembered what had happened. She was a little hazy but said she’d seen the sheet and wondered what it was for. She also said she remembered having talked to Pia about things the day before and she said she was tempted to do a Trish. I winced at the memory of that.

She mentioned that Cindy had told her that the problem with auto-castration was they’d just treat the wound, discharge you and probably decline any request for surgery even at a later date. However, if you had major damage to the penis with loss of the erectile tissue, they’d be unable to repair it and would probably do a vaginoplasty and if the head of the penis wasn’t too damaged, probably a clitoroplasty as well.

Danni said she wasn’t prepared to do that because it would hurt too much and she was quite sore down below. She also said she knew I’d be furious if it happened. It seemed that Pia did some research and worked out how she could do the damage and yet leave enough of the skin to fashion a vagina. Which was what she did after rendering Danni unconscious. However, I wondered if she’d considered how much blood loss there would be. I would have to thank her parents for effectively saving Danni’s life by helping to staunch the bleed.

Danni said she knew nothing about the chloroform until it was shoved over her nose and she really didn’t remember anything much until she woke up this morning. She couldn’t remember Trish or I visiting although she said she felt my blue light with her much of the time, so she knew she’d be okay.

“Are you pleased to be a girl?” I asked.

“Yeah, course I am.”

“That’s okay then, because you appreciate what has been done, can’t be undone, don’t you?”

“What I can’t grow another one?” she gasped and my tummy flipped.

“No. Did you think you could?”

She laughed and then said it hurt to do that, and told me she was joking. I didn’t find it very funny.

A little later Sam Rose appeared and asked how she was and she said she was hungry and sore. “Hard luck, young lady, you won’t be able to have any food for several days.”

“What? Why not?”

“To reduce the risk of infection, you can’t have anything which leaves a residue.”

“What’s that?” she asked him.

“Anything which makes you want to poo.”

“Oh, won’t I be able to poo then?”

“She wasn’t admitted to clean her bowel, unless they did that under anaesthetic,” I suggested.

“In which case you might well be able to poo, which isn’t a good thing for a few days.” Sam went off to speak with the ward sister.

“Why is pooing a problem, Mummy?”

“Because it’s down by the wound and it could cause infection. Normally when they do this operation they clean out your bowel and give you low or non-residue food.”

“Oh will they be cross with me?” she said looking very anxious.

“Of course not, but they will be trying to prevent infection.”

“What would that do, make it sore?”

“It could do much more than that, it could cause the whole thing to breakdown and all your pain and Mr O’Rourke’s skill would be wasted.”

“Cripes, I hope that doesn’t happen then.”

“I’m going to ask Pia’s parents not to let her near you again and I want you to promise not to go near her, all right?”

“But she did me a favour, Mummy.”

“She nearly killed you.”

“You’d have saved me.”

“I might not have been able to.”

“I bet you would have.”

“I’m not at all sure, Danielle. So she is banned for the moment. Oh and you’ll be going to St Clare’s next term.”

“Oh, what about my tutor?”

“I told her yesterday, she’s okay about it–said it’s a good school ad would help you integrate a bit more.”

“What does that mean–integrate.”

“Have lots of friends and live like a normal girl.

“That sounds good. Didn’t you say they had a football team?”

The mention of a football team made me inwardly wince, would that rekindle memories of things lost or would it be good for her. Would she play like a boy or a girl? I was just mulling this over when Sam came back and said a nurse was coming to wash Danni and could he have a word with me.

The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2231 by Angharad Copyright © 2013 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

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“You wanted to speak with me,” Sam Rose reminded me.

“Yes. I still don’t know if Danni is transgendered.”

“Oh dear, in which case she could be stuck with a lifestyle that is going to prove wrong for her.”

“That’s my worry.”

“How long has she lived in role?”

“A few months.”

“And she’s now effectively post op?”

“Yes, frightening isn’t it?”

“What does Stephanie say?”

“She isn’t sure either.”

“So she could find herself as a female to male transperson?”

“That is my nightmare.”

“Oh dear. I don’t know what to say.”

“There is nothing to say. Mr O’Rourke had no option but to go for the vaginoplasty because that was what Pia intended.”

“It’s a pain when being outmanoeuvred by a thirteen year old.”

“Try a nine year old,” I suggested.

“Ah no. I know my limitations. Why d’you think I palmed her off on you?”

“Obviously not for the reasons I thought it was.”

He smirked. “She’s done well with you.”

“I suppose she has. Have I done well with her though?”

“I think you’ve done remarkably well with her and by her. She’s a challenge but I think you’re one of the few people who could cope with it. You truly are a tzidkanit, aren’t you?”

“Didn’t you call me that once before?”

“I did, and I stand by it. I’ll also tell you that I’ve only ever called one other person it, and she died in a refugee camp in Jordan trying to save the lives of others.”

“Compared to her, I’m not worthy.”

“Who said I was comparing you? I was complimenting you. Now go and look after your newest daughter, but do it proudly as a tzidkanit–as a special one.”

I hugged him and went back into Danni’s room where the nurse was finishing washing her. “Here’s your mum, she can wash your hair for you.”

“Will you, Mummy?”

“Wash your hair?”

“Yeah, I know it’s short but it’s all greasy and ’orrible.”

“How about I ask Phoebe or Julie to do it for you tonight and to bring in a hairdryer to tidy it up?”

“Can’t you do it?”

“I didn’t bring any shampoo with me, darling.”

“Oh all right, ask Julie tonight.”

A woman police officer poked her head round the door, “Is this the boy that was castrated?”

I glared at her but Danni shrugged and said, “I haven’t seen any boys in here, have you, Mummy?”

“No I haven’t, darling,” I said refusing to break eye contact with this latest incarnation of plod mentality.

“The ward sister said he was in this room,” she blushed.

“This is a female ward, isn’t it?” I asked her.

“This end is, so is he up the other end?”

“How would I know?” I replied.

Okay, thanks.” She wandered off. I knew she’d be back and would be ratty but I didn’t like her attitude and would tell her so.

“Is she looking for me, d’you reckon?” asked Danni.

“Almost certainly. I doubt that yours is a common injury.”

“Me neither.”

I combed out Danni’s hair while we waited. She bumbled back in looking very grumpy. “Very funny–I don’t think.”

I shrugged, “You were looking for a boy, this is a girl.”

“Now, by all accounts. I’ve come to take a statement, if he/she can remember.”

“I think that from now on, the only pronoun that will be apposite for Danielle is a feminine one.”

“Okay, will it be all right if I take a statement from her.

“Ask her, not me.”

“You’re her mother?”

“Yes, but she’s thirteen and therefore able to tell you if she feels up to talking about it.”

“Do you, Danielle?”

“If you like.”

“I would like, we need to decide if there is enough evidence to prosecute your little friend with the scalpel.”

“Didn’t her parents make a statement?”

“I have no idea, I’ve only been told to speak with you.”

Danni agreed to talk to her and I intervened saying that this was still a very emotional subject to discuss and if I considered she was in too much distress, she would have to leave. She agreed but with reluctance.

She was there about an hour by which time Danni was flagging and I was getting ready to throw her out when she announced she had enough. She also apologised for her earlier insensitivity and told Danni she made a pretty girl and wished her good luck. Danni went off to sleep beaming with pride.

I’m sure that quite a significant number of people think transgender folk are like drag queens or have two heads. They seem genuinely surprised that we’re as normal as anyone else and just as nice.

A nurse came round with cups of tea and I took one gratefully. Danni had one too. When the nurse had gone, I said to her, “I didn’t think you liked tea?”

“I don’t, this is for you.” She handed me the cup, so I had to drink two cups of tea–but I think I was up to it.

She eventually had to give in to sleep and I made my escape leaving her to snooze and recover some of her strength. I did a little shopping on the way home worrying what we were going to give as presents this year–oh shit–I hadn’t done my cards even. I felt really dejected by the time I got home and it must have been obvious because Jacquie noticed it.

I was tired, stressed and too close to Christmas for comfort. I admitted that I hadn’t done my cards and she offered to help me. After a quick lunch we set to and I wrote the cards while she addressed them. Next year, I determined to do a label set up on the computer–a job for Sammi while she’s recovering, perhaps.

Later, I posted the cards on the way to hospital. Danni was sleeping so I went to see Sammi whose boyfriend was there so I spoke briefly to them and went off to see Danni again. She was still sleeping so I just sent her love as I sat down beside her. After a few minutes she called out my name, although still asleep. I answered her and she settled down again. Some five minutes later she woke up and said, “I was dreaming you were here, everything was covered in this blue light, so I knew you were about.”

“I think it was just a dream, darling.”

“No, because you were here when I woke up.”

“I think that would disprove your argument, wouldn’t it?”

“I dunno,” she said, “I’m too tired to argue.” She looked at me and said, “I still can’t believe I’m really a girl, I really can’t.”

“It takes more than having a vagina to be a girl, darling.”

“Yeah, I know that, but it like helps, doesn’t it?”

“Of course it does.”

“I means I’ve got to sit to wee an’ things.”

I wasn’t sure how I felt about her superficial understanding of being female. However I gave her the benefit of the doubt. She was after all still recovering from a general anaesthetic and a very powerful and emotional experience, not to mention a traumatic one. It was therefore not the time or place to judge her, and in doing so, myself.

The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2232 by Angharad Copyright © 2013 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

---

Julie and Phoebe went with me that evening and they did Danni’s hair and also Sammi’s, which is quite long. While they were there they had a whole pile of requests from other ladies on the ward, so they agreed to come by the next day and do some of them after the ward sister said they could. It was Julie’s half day so Phoebe would come in during the morning and do one or two of the easier ones and Julie would come as soon as she closed up the shop. Which was what they did, so they were up to their armpits in hairdos when I arrived to see my two girls.

The good news was that Danni now had enough blood so the drip was off and she was tender but in reasonable spirits, enough to have put some makeup on when I got there. Sammi was busy on her iPad so I left her to it, though she did acknowledge my arrival. I asked Danni if she’d like me to bring hers in and she nodded. She was still very tired and my intuition was telling me she had an infection. I got the sister and spoke to her.

“Nothing is showing, we did some bloods this morning.”

“Well I’m picking up one, it’s not in the wound it’s deeper than that.”

“I don’t follow you.”

“It’s heading up towards her kidneys.”

“How did it get there?”

“Catheter–it came in on the catheter.”

“I’ll do a urine check.” She went off and returned with a sterile pot into which she ran off some urine from Danni’s bag. Danni was complaining of feeling very hot. She had a temperature. Dipping the urine showed the presence of blood–there shouldn’t have been any. The sister went off to get a doctor or a nurse prescriber for antibiotics.

I threw in some blue light for good measure but it was obvious that Danni was feeling unwell and her buoyancy of the previous day was sinking fast. A man in a white coat, I assumed was a houseman, came looked at her and prescribed two lots of antibiotics. “Sorry, kiddo, these might make you feel as sick as a parrot, but they’ll do the job. Is that okay?”

“Yeah, that’s okay,” she said and lay back on the pillows and slipped into sleep. She lay so still that for one awful moment I thought she’d died. I held onto her hand and tried to send the energy from her kidneys down through the ureters to her bladder and out into the bag, as it went it zapped any infection with laser like proficiency.

That was the theory and the only place it was happening was in my head, or so I thought because when the sister came with the medication, including the antibiotics she gasped and I looked up and towards the door.

She shut the door gently and said to me, “D’you know we’ve had two women recover from bladder cancers which they weren’t expected to.”

“That’s good news, your treatment must be more effective than you thought.”

“Oh no, I’ve been dealing with urology cases for years–it’s only happened while you’ve been here. It’s you, isn’t it–the mystery healer?”

“Can I deny it?”

“I just saw a pulsating blue light travel from your hand into Danni’s and travel up her arm through her body and into her bag–and the contents of the bag are hot.”

“Perhaps she’s just peed?”

“Feel it, it’s hotter than anything in her body.”

“No, I’ll take your word for it.” I wasn’t touching a urine collecting bag.

“Feel it,” she urged and I had little option but to do so. It was too hot to hold comfortably. I felt Danni’s brow, it was warm but nowhere near as warm as the bag or more correctly, its contents–boiled wee–luvly.

Danni was woken and took her tablets before lying back down and drifting off again. I noticed she was sweating and wet her flannel and wiped her face, trying not to smudge her makeup. I held her hand and asked the energy to cool her. The sister stood and watched as I worked.

“You won’t tell anyone, will you?”

“Lady Cameron, I might only be a nurse not a word famous ecologist, but I’m aware of what would happen if I did tell anyone.”

“Thank you.”

“If any of our other sickly patients get better, it’s a bonus and I should be thanking you.”

“You’re too kind.”

“Do you really breed dormice?”

“Yes. They’re all hibernating at the moment but if you’d like to see one, give me a call at the university in the summer and I or one of my colleagues will show you round.”

“Thank you. Might I ask you a personal question?”

I looked up and she was blushing so I knew what was coming. “If you wish.”

“Is it true that you–um–used...”

“To be like Danni?”

“Yes, sorry, I shouldn’t have asked.”

“Yes and no. I was AIS and I didn’t play football.”

“AIS?”

“Androgen insensitive.”

“Of course, sorry, I’ve been on since six this morning, but it explains a thing or two.”

“It does?”

“Yes. I’ve seen a few transsexual patients, especially since Mr O’Rourke started here and you’re the most female I’ve ever seen.”

“I didn’t have a male puberty.”

“That certainly explains things. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Oh, and like the healing, I won’t tell anyone–about this conversation.”

I didn’t really care–well yes I did, and was glad she’d spoken to me. Nothing worse than people trying to guess and constantly staring at you while they do. I felt Danni was going to be okay and left her to go and see Sammi.

“How are you?” I asked her after we’d hugged and kissed

“Knackered.”

“Oh, anaesthetic I expect.”

“No, the bank. My boss emailed to say they had a problem with some software. He told me the symptoms and I was pretty sure I had it identified. Unfortunately, this thing isn’t big enough to do what I needed to do so they’re sending someone down with a laptop tonight and I’m going to try and sort it.”

“Tonight?”

“Yes, they need it tomorrow.”

“You’re on sick leave.”

“So–they need me.”

“They’ll have to find someone else, won’t they?”

“Not at this short notice.”

I was surprised she had her head clear enough to do anything like that. I was about her age when I was done and my head wouldn’t focus on anything for about a week. Obviously she was made of sterner stuff. I would, however, play hell with Simon tonight.

We chatted for a short while and then Julie and Phoebe came up to the bed, so I left them to talk with her while I checked on Danni. She was sleeping and I threw a cover of blue light all round her. She was breathing more regularly and her temperature felt more normal–good stuff these antibiotics.

The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2233 by Angharad Copyright © 2013 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

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Simon was very apologetic for allowing Sammi to be used for a work project. Then he said something very revealing. “You realise how much bonus she got this year?”

“How would I know that?”

“Read your director’s reports more carefully.”

I blushed but was still ignorant. “Well? Are you going to tell me or not?”

“Fifty K.”

“Crikey.”

“She’s putting it down as a deposit on a flat in London.”

“Oh,” I said weakly, “might have been nice if she’d told me herself.”

“Sorry, I assumed she had. I thought girls told their mothers these things automatically.”

“Perhaps it shows what she really thinks of me.”

“She thinks the world of you; she’s always on about you. She couldn’t have got where she is without your support.”

And your money, I thought to myself. I mustn’t be churlish, especially as it looks she’ll be leaving the nest as soon as she heals up. She’ll have to learn to keep house then, won’t she? Tough, I’m not teaching her and she hasn’t done much round here in the way of housework. Still, with that sort of bonus every year she’ll be able to pay for her flat in no time. Oh well, good luck to her and her dopy boyfriend.

“Yeah, sure.” I said and walked away.

“Cathy, don’t just walk away, she’s still our daughter.”

“No she isn’t. We’ve treated her like one but she’s done very little in return, except a bit of computer stuff now and again. Even Phoebe is more like a daughter than Sammi ever was.”

I walked away leaving him open mouthed and ignored him when he called after me. I went to my study, shut the door and locked it; then had a good cry. I could see it was her time to fly the nest and didn’t have a problem with it. It was not being kept in the loop that annoyed me. It was natural she would tell Simon, she spends time on a train with him every day, so they are quite close. I felt like I’d been ignored unless she wanted something. I’d been used. I know some people are like that, users, abusers even. But this wasn’t some story being posted on the internet where people can read it without any effort and where any recognition of the author is a huge bonus, you almost expect that. This is about taking someone into the inner sanctum of the family and allowing them to grow from an awkward kid into a confident and attractive woman. She wouldn’t have made it without us, of that I was pretty sure. But then I knew someone else who wouldn’t have made it without the intervention of a couple of helpful souls. I cried some more, I was hurting.

“Are you going to see the girls?” called Simon through the study door.

“Girl, yes.”

“Open the door.”

‘Piss off,’ I retorted under my breath but I opened the door.

“Well, are you going to the hospital?”

“To see Danni.”

“What about Sammi?”

“She’ll be up to her brand new fanny in computer problems.”

“Oh that, sorry.”

“Don’t apologise, she doesn’t talk to me much anyway. Perhaps you should go and see her–she talks to you.”

“Look, babes, don’t take it so personally.”

“How am I supposed to take it then?”

“She was busy...”

“She’s busy–what the bloody hell am I then–oh that doesn’t count does it, it was women’s work dealing with children’s problems like the castration of my son by a teenaged psychopath. No I’m not busy.”

“Okay, I said the wrong thing...”

“Yes you did, so why don’t you just shut up.” I walked away and he watched me go, I could feel his eyes boring into the back of me but I was not going to apologise, I was so angry he was lucky I didn’t say more.

I took Livvie, Trish and Meems to see Danni. The staff nurse in charge turned a blind eye as long as there was no noise. They were as quiet as mice, talking in whispers or squeaky little voices. It really was like being with some human sized mice.

Danni was improving in leaps and bounds and the infection looked to be resolving. She was miffed she had to stay in bed and she was also hungry. “They only give me thin soup and bloody strawberry jelly.”

Trish looked at her and said, “I know.” Then she looked across at me and smirked. The other two girls were appalled that they were starving their sister to death.

“I’ve got some cwisps you can have,” offered Meems but I had to stop her, explaining why Danni was on the low residue diet.

“So you mustn’t poo?” Meems said to her.

“I can’t can I? Not had any food for days.”

“Is Sammi the same?” asked Livvie.

“Yes.”

“Can I go and see her?” asked Trish. I agreed and when we left the two of them were doing something on a laptop I didn’t understand or want to. Sammi didn’t even acknowledge my presence. The sooner she went the better. I turned and went back to Danni when it was time to leave I sent Livvie to collect Trish. If I’d gone I’d have said something very unladylike.

“Why didn’t you say hello to Sammi?” asked Trish as we drove home.

“I think Mummy is a bit miffed with her.”

“Why?”

“Never mind.” I said it in a tone that even Trish recognised as final.

Simon got the cold shoulder in bed. “How was Danni?” he asked.

“Much better thank you.”

“And Sammi?” he asked cautiously.

“How would I know, I stood by her bed for five minutes and she didn’t even speak to me.”

“Did she see you?”

“I think I’m large enough for a myopic bat to see.”

“She’s like you, when she gets into something she only focuses on that subject. Like you she has amazing concentration, like Trish.”

“Unlike me, she has very little awareness of others. When she’s ready to leave hospital, she can go to the hotel–the bank can pay for it. I don’t want her here.” I turned over with my back to him.

“This is her home.”

“Was.” I spat back.

“Look, I know you were hurt by what I told you, but it’s only a little thing.”

“Is it? How would you know what I’m feeling, or do those count for as little as everything else I do round here?”

“Hang on, calm down–you’ll wake Lizzie.”

“Well if I do, you can feed her–I’m on strike.” I got out of bed and slammed the bedroom door after me and went and got into Sammi’s bed after locking the door. I cried myself to sleep. It shouldn’t be like this, I don’t deserve this, I kept saying to myself. Tomorrow I decided I was going to Bristol with Lizzie and Cate, for how long I didn’t know. Simon could sort the rest of them out, do the school parties and visit Danni, run the house and so on as my contribution is so obviously worthless. And before anyone thinks I’m being spiteful, if I was, I’d take Jacquie with me.

The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2234 by Angharad Copyright © 2013 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

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I woke feeling exhausted and my eyelids were all stuck together, my lashes matted through the tears which had dried as I slept. It took me a few moments to work out where I was–in Sammi’s room. Then I remembered my hissy fit and felt a little ashamed of myself, but I was really hurt by Sammi’s lack of confidence in me. Then given my behaviour last night, perhaps she was justified in keeping me in the dark. A schoolgirl she calls Mummy, when she calls me anything.

My body groaned as I got out of bed and I felt like getting back into its warmth again. However, I stayed up and did a few stretches and then went and showered. The warming waters of the shower refreshed my aching muscles and by the time I’d dried myself I almost felt awake.

I went to the girl’s bedroom and woke them. They had class parties today and I made them rise and shower themselves while I went downstairs and sorted out the food they’d asked David to make for them. I made up three parcels of assorted cakes, sandwiches and desserts. By the time they’d dressed and come downstairs for me to do their hair I’d all but sorted their party foods.

“You woke me up shouting at Daddy last night,” complained Trish.

“I’m sorry, darling, I lost my temper with him.” That was a lie, I lost my temper with Sammi, but he was closer.

“I came to look for you but you’d gone...” she broke down in tears.

“I was still here, but I needed to be on my own for a bit, sweetheart.”

“I thought you’d left us,” she sobbed.

“I promised you I’d never do that.”

“Don’t go away, will you, Mummy?” she clung to me like a limpet and within what seemed like moments, I had three of them hanging on to me and crying. I felt so stressed that I wanted to shout at them to leave me alone, but I didn’t. These were all damaged children, all rejected by others fearing that I was going to reject them as well. The mixture of emotions I felt was indescribable but there was a fair amount of shame there amongst the compassion and love I had for these young women.

I knelt down and we all hugged in one weeping mass and I promised them again that I would never leave them or ask them to leave. Goodness what had I said to Simon last night about Sammi? I felt the blush start somewhere near the soles of me feet and race up through my body. I prayed he hadn’t left for work.

Calming the children down, I got them some breakfast and once they were settled I ran upstairs as if the place was on fire and burst into the bedroom. Simon was snuggled up with Cate and Lizzie. “Thank god,” I said and picked up the two babies then bent over and kissed him.

“Eh, what time is it?” he asked rubbing his eyes.

“Seven o’clock,” I replied kissing him again.

“What’s that for?” he asked yawning.

“For being you.”

“I’m me every day, how come I don’t get one then?”

“I’m sorry for what I said and did last night.” I said my eyes filling with tears.

“I should think so.”

I felt about six inches tall, tears ran down my face dripping onto the two little ones.

“Only way I could get the little buggers to sleep was to have them in bed with me. I was awake half the night worried I’d roll over and squash them.”

“You make a lovely father, better than I am as a mother.”

He got out of bed and put his arms around the three of us. “You’re a good mother, never believe or let anyone tell you otherwise. You get a bit overwrought, which is what I guessed happened last night. I suspect having Danni end up in hospital was the last straw.”

“No, Sammi not telling me about her new house was the last straw.”

“She hasn’t got one yet. She’s just thinking about it.”

“I still felt hurt that she hadn’t talked to me about it.”

“I’m sure she will when she comes home assuming you want her here.”

“It’s her home.”

He smiled, “I’m glad to hear that, c’mon let’s get some brekkies.”

When we got downstairs one of the girls had put the radio on and the music was James Horner’s, For the love of a princess from Braveheart. “I love this music,” I said smiling.

“What is it?” he asked and I explained what it was. “The music’s better than the film was. I got asked dozens of times if I wore much woad these days.”

I smirked.

“It’s not bloody funny, sodding Mel Gibson,” he muttered.

I rubbed his back, “I’ll wear the war paint then, shall I?”

“Yeah, it looks better on you.”

I put my arms round him and kissed him.

“Get a room you two,” said Stella’s voice as she came up behind us.

“We’ve got one, what are you doing in it?” Simon threw back at her.

“Oh, pardon me for breathing.”

By this time the girls had finished their breakfast and were giggling at the antics of the two siblings. I left Jacquie to feed Cate and Lizzie, while I sorted the girl’s hair, putting it into simple ponytails with green scrunchies after brushing it.

It was raining when we carried our precious cargoes out to the car and laid them carefully in the boot. The drive to school was awful, the world and wife were on the roads and they had a car each. The rain sheeted down and the day felt even more grey than the fifty shades some stupid woman wrote a book about.

We only just made registration on time with my nerves in shreds as we all trotted to the school holding plates or dishes of very fragile comestibles. I checked what time they were to be collected and told them I’d be there. It would clash with hospital visiting but I could get someone else to go this afternoon and I’d see the two girls later during evening visiting.

On the way home I nipped into Asda and bought each of the two invalids a new nightdress, I hoped they’d like them. I’d gift wrap them and whoever went could have the pleasure of presenting them with their presents, gifting them their gifts or whatever.

I was surprised to see Simon was still at home, he was working from his laptop in my study. “Is that safe?” I nodded at his computer.

“It hasn’t blown up yet.”

“No, I meant the data.”

“It’s all encrypted.”

“Oh, tea?”

“Coffee if that’s okay?”

“Course. Are you home all day?”

“Yeah, why?”

I thought I could have asked him the same question. “That’s nice, I have to collect the girls from school at three, so could you visit the two in hospital?”

He looked up at me as if working something out. “Yeah, I could do.”

“I’ve got a new nightie for each of them, if you could take those in I’d be grateful.”

“Sure, but why can’t you take them later?”

“Nah, I’ll wrap them you can take them–oh can you see if they have any washing?”

“Yes–anything else?” he sighed.

“Yes, give me a kiss.”

“Now you’re talking...”

The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2235 by Angharad Copyright © 2013 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

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After dinner, Phoebe came with me to see Danni and Sammi. They both thanked me for their new nightdresses. It was interesting to see that Danni was wearing makeup, albeit not very much–eyeliner, mascara and lip gloss, whereas Sammi, her with the model looks, wasn’t. In fact she looked rather pale. I left Phoebe chatting with Danni.

“Are you okay?” I asked Sammi.

“Just tired, I guess.”

“You sorted their computer problem?”

“Yeah, took me half the night.” She continued her explanation which went right over my head, so I stopped her suggesting she save her energy or used a great deal more explaining in words of one syllable what she meant because I didn’t understand. “But you use computers,” she protested.

“I drive a car but have no idea what happens under the bonnet. If I have a problem I call the garage, if it’s with a computer, I send for you.”

She smiled weakly. Looked away from me for a few moments then said, “Daddy says you were upset about me looking for a flat.”

Here we go. “I’m not upset about that, more that you didn’t tell me you wanted to move out.”

“I don’t really, I love living with you and all the others. You’ve helped me more than anyone else. I wouldn’t be here now if it weren’t for you, Mummy. I do love you,” she started to sniffle.

“I love you too, sweetheart.”

We had a little hug and she calmed down.

“The daily commute was such a drag an’ I thought it would be nice to live closer to work. When I saw how much I was going to get for a bonus, I thought I’d put it down as a deposit on a flat or a house.”

“Have you seen one yet?”

“Sort of, it’s a new build an’ we saw the show flat. If we go for it, I’d like you an’ Daddy to come and see it an’ advise me on colour schemes. I’ve never done anything like that before–an’ like, you have.”

“If you need my help you only have to ask, you know that.”

“I didn’t say anything because we haven’t made our minds up yet.”

“At least you should be able to get preferential terms for a mortgage from the bank.”

“Yeah, Daddy said they’d probably grant it seeing as my parents are both directors.”

“I knew that would come in handy one day.” I felt drawn to her right leg, there was something not right about it. To confirm it she moved and winced. “What’s the matter?”

“Been sitting too long in one position, I think–silly pain in my leg.”

“Where?”

“Down there,” she waved her hand down towards her calf.

“Wait there,” as if she was going anywhere, “I’ll be right back.” I found the nurse in charge and told her about Sammi’s pain. I was pretty certain she had a DVT. The nurse wasn’t so sure and shook her head. “What would you do if it was?”

“Send for the duty doctor.”

“Why don’t you do it, then?”

“I’m not sure it’s necessary.”

“I’ll tell him that I made you do it.”

“That won’t wash, I still get a bollocking.”

“Not half as much as you will if you don’t get him.”

“What d’you mean?”

“D’you know who I am?”

“Yeah, Sammi’s mum.”

“I’m Cathy Watts, Dr Cathy Watts.”

“Ah, perhaps he can find a few minutes to pop up to see it, um–Dr Watts.” She almost fled back to her office.

“Isn’t that illegal, Mummy?”

“What?”

“Impersonating a doctor?”

“I am a doctor, I have a PhD, remember?”

She rolled her eyes. I took her pulse which seemed to be racing.

“I feel a bit hot, Mummy,” she sighed and fell back on the bed. I screamed for the nurse and started throwing the pillows on the floor to get her flat. I took her pulse, there wasn’t one–she’d arrested.

The staff nurse came rushing down the ward. “Get the crash team, she’s arrested.”

She stopped in her tracks and suddenly turned and ran back to the office. I started doing chest compressions. I’ve no idea how long it took for the crash team to arrive, but for some reason they let me stay. I watched them set up the defibrillator, shoot some anticoagulant into her and various other substances and two minutes later they’d restarted her. One advantage of being young is these things recover quicker than they do in older people.

While no one was looking I surreptitiously poured energy into her which I suspect was what had started her, I hit her with it in a bolt just as the defib did–unfortunately it blew the battery in the machine but Sammi seemed to stabilise after it. They took her off to ICU and I picked up her belongings, especially her iPad and went to see how Danni was. She was looking well. They’d take her packing out tomorrow and then she’d have the delights of replacing it with a large lump of plastic, several times a day. The mallet is optional.

I explained that Sammi had become unwell and they had taken her off for an examination. “She will be coming back, won’t she?” asked an anxious thirteen year old.

“Of course, she hasn’t bought the flat yet.”

“What?” asked Danni and Phoebe smirked.

“Sammi is thinking about buying a flat in London to save her travelling every day.”

“Kewl, can I stay there and go watch Chelsea play?”

Phoebe and I did a double take, where had that come from?

“I didn’t think you were that interested in football any more?”

“Huh? Why d’you think I’ve got blue nail varnish?”

Several answers came to mind, including that she might like blue. However, showing support for Chelsea FC wasn’t one of them. “I did wonder,” I conceded and Phoebe had to look away.

“If I get into Trish’s school I’m gonna play footie for them–guaranteed, innit?”

“I don’t think anything is guaranteed yet, but if you do get accepted by them after Christmas, I believe you’ll probably have a very good chance of competing for the team once you’re well again.”

“I’m okay.”

“I don’t think you realise how much energy having surgery takes out of you.”

“I’m young and beautiful–I’ll be okay.”

“If you feel that good, I’ll get your tutor to set you some work to do on your iPad.”

“Perhaps, I’m not that fit yet,” she said and pretended to fall asleep on us. Phoebe was shaking with laughter. Danni made a miraculous recovery and we left soon after, checking on how Sammi was doing. She was comfortable and they did allow us to call by and say goodnight to her. Phoebe was horrified that Sammi had had a heart attack. I admit I wasn’t too pleased about it either but I was glad it happened while I was there and could summon help. It could have been a lot worse.

Driving home, Phoebe asked, “You’re going to put Danni in the convent then?”

“You make it sound as if I was banishing her.”

“I meant the school.”

“Yes I am, she needs to integrate as a girl now she doesn’t have any option and while home schooling her did bring her standards up it won’t teach her how to grow into a woman.”

“Will school? I thought my mothers taught me that.”

“School and peers teach you loads besides academic subjects. Families teach you your moral values, and I hope how to love and be loved.”

“I’ve certainly learned some of that from both my mothers,” she said and pecked me on the cheek.

The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2236 by Angharad Copyright © 2013 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

---

I explained what happened at the hospital and Simon looked shocked. “Jeezuz–she had a heart attack–but she’s twenty three.”

“I knew a little girl who died with one at thirteen, just got out of the water at a swimming gala. Dropped dead on the poolside.”

“Oh shit, that’s not gonna happen with Sammi–I mean not with the blue light an’ all?”

“I hope not, it came from a clot in the leg.”

“But she had those stocking things on plus injections in her tummy–how did that happen?”

“These things do, perhaps she bumped her leg.”

“Oh,” he said looked awful and went very quiet.

“You know something?” I demanded.

“The car door hit her on the leg–it blew out of my hand–couldn’t stop it. Bloody hell, Cathy, did I nearly kill my daughter?” He had tears in his eyes and I don’t think I’ve seen him looking so distressed.

“It was an accident, and who says that’s what happened. Which leg was it?”

“I dunno–um–left one–I think. Coulda been the right–oh bugger, I can’t remember.”

“She’s going to be alright.”

“Are you sure?”

“As sure as I can be. Now how about we have a cuppa and wind down a little before bed?”

“Yeah, okay. I’d prefer a brandy if you don’t mind.”

“I don’t mind but I’ll stick with the camellia.”

“What?” he looked bemused–well more than usual.

“Tea–it comes from a camellia bush– Camellia sinensis or something like that.”

“Right,” he said gave me a funny look which probably meant, ‘clever dick’ or equivalent. I’m not clever, just remember strange facts. Makes me useful in pub quizzes and Trivial Pursuit but otherwise useless. I suppose we all have our failings.

He reappeared with a large glass of brandy for himself and my mug of tea. I thanked him. “Does this mean she could have another one?”

“What, Sammi?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s not impossible...”

“Oh shit,” he interrupted.

“But not in the near future–I sorted the damage which occurred in her heart.”

“Damage?”

“Yes damage. It happens in minutes if there’s a blockage in one of the coronary arteries.”

“Yeah, I suppose it would. Is my heart still damaged–from the one I had?”

“No, I fixed that.”

“Thank you,” he looked relieved.

“No problem, before you asked, I’ve also sorted those of other family members who’ve shared your experience.”

“Like Tom, you mean?

“And Henry.”

“I’d forgotten about that.” He looked anxious again.

I sipped my tea which was a little hotter than I usually drink it–I’m a wimp, remember–and rinsed out the mug.

“How’s Danielle?”

“Fine, thinks she’ll be playing football for the convent after Christmas.”

“I suppose she will–she’s pretty good.”

“Not for a few months.”

“Why not, if she starts there in January?”

“She’s just had major surgery–okay, it wasn’t a heart transplant but she needed three units of blood–that’s more than Lance Armstrong used before the TdF.”

“What? Oh yeah, I forget cyclists do that; an’ I suppose it was pretty major.”

“She could have died, Si.”

“What’s happening with her friend, the wannabe surgeon?”

“I don’t know, the police haven’t said anything for a while.”

“D’you want her prosecuted?”

“No, she’s mad not bad, she needs help.”

“Your blue stuff couldn’t help her then?”

“I don’t think so, I’d be more inclined to strangle her than heal her.”

“I thought you said she needed help?”

“That doesn’t stop me wanting to strangle her. Did you realise she did exactly the amount of damage required to prevent the medics trying to save Danni’s willie, making sure they did a vaginoplasty instead.”

“Pretty clever stuff.”

“In a sociopathic way. Who was she to decide Danni should become female when the experts weren’t entirely sure what to do with her. It was an act of extreme arrogance and possibly cruelty.”

“What d’you mean?”

“I mean, what if Danielle decides she wants to become Dan again? We don’t know for sure that she won’t.”

“Not like Trish or Julie, then?”

“No she isn’t, and I’m still worried about it. A boy with tits and no dick is not going to find life easy.”

“No, he won’t will he? Hang about, David managed, so it could be sorted–if it arises, I mean.”

“I’m aware of that, Si, but it isn’t a good solution. I just hope Danielle is the real child and she goes from strength to strength. I’m going to bed, I’ve had enough of today.”

“When will they be coming home?”

“A few more days–night.” I left him sipping his brandy and crawled up the stairs. Five or ten minutes later I was asleep in bed, I really was shattered. There was no hanky-panky tonight, I didn’t even hear Simon come to bed and he was gone in the morning. How he copes with such little sleep, I have no idea, but I didn’t even hear him get up.

The three banshees arrived and pestered me in bed with cold feet and hands until I gave in got up. I’d ordered stuff for them from the internet, I hoped it came in time. This year I told them there were not going to be any big presents, they’d have clothing, books and pens, that sort of stuff. They took it quite calmly, or so it appeared. I also told them I’d made a donation to Save the Children on their behalf.

Livvie asked if I’d donated Danni. For once she was quicker off the mark than Trish. It was tempting, but I told her I’d kept Danielle once her plumbing healed. They’d missed all the drama of Sammi’s illness so I had to tell them in graphic detail. Meems looked very worried. When I asked her what the problem was, she told me she’d bumped her leg last night. I gave it a rub and said she was fine and she seemed to cheer up.

The doorbell rang and I accepted the parcel which was addressed to me anyway. I wondered which one it was and took it to my wardrobe, placed it inside and locked the door taking the key with me. If they want to see what it is, they’ll have to pick the lock or force it–either way I’ll know and then there’ll be trouble, and they know it.

During the day two more packages arrived and duly followed the first. They were all having new coats, wool with imitation fur collars. Trish had a red one, Livvie a blue one, Meems a green one and Danni a beige coloured one. I nearly bought myself a black one but thought I’d have a look in the post Christmas sales if I had time, if not I’d have to do without. I’d also got them new boots and handbags–they were all different based on my understanding of each of them–be interesting to see if I know them as well as I think or if I’m completely wrong. I feel a bit nervous about it all now.

With two recovering from surgery and the weather which is forecast as bad to awful, it looks like Christmas this year is going to prove challenging.

A peaceful and joyous Christmas to all our readers from, Angharad, Bonzi & Whizz.

The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2237 by Angharad Copyright © 2013 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

---

The days lurched on towards Christmas. The combination of trying to deal with hospital visits and the three mouseketteers made life rather fraught at times, especially when deteriorating weather was added to the equation. It rained and it blew and in places it flooded.

According to the experts the jet stream was fired up by energy created by hot air moving north up from the Caribbean and cold air moving south from the Arctic. Where they met, storms formed and sod’s law tends to mean they hit the UK somewhere. Okay, we’re not talking Philippines type cyclone and the devastation that produced, but it’s bad enough. Remember this is Blighty, damp and mild where the biggest risk from the weather is mildew, not frigging hurricanes, although they do get more storms up around the north of Scotland than we do in the south.

On the Monday before Christmas our two casualties became the walking variety and were discharged to my care at home. Mr O’Rourke seemed to think I could cope with them, perhaps because I’ve been there, done that and got the dilators.

Neither of them seemed to feel that dilation was a pleasant experience and had to be reminded in hospital. It was only when I threatened to help them with a mallet that they agreed to do it twice a day. Danni was only using the small one but Sammi had the adult sized ones and complained about the larger one every time I saw her. I tried to explain that unless she was going to make love to a spaniel, she needed to persevere. She suggested she might stay celibate. I reminded her that was okay for her but any boyfriends or husband she acquired might have different ideas.

“But it hurts,” she protested.

“So does giving birth, but women still do it.”

“What’s that got to do with poking a large piece of plastic in a small hole?”

“If you wish to integrate as a full female, then sex is usually one of the things females do, usually with a male.”

“I did basic biology, Mummy, so I know about the birds and the bees.”

“Why bother having a vaginoplasty if you’re not going to use it?”

“My panties sit better–or will do when I don’t need to wear a sani towel to catch the goo from poking it with the plastic.”

“You could have had everything removed and no vagina. It would have healed more quickly.”

“Yeah, could have got that weird friend of Danni’s to do it, saved the NHS some money.”

Dunno about that, she did Danielle’s and she still needed the experts to stop her bleeding to death.”

Sammi blushed perhaps remembering how she’d cussed her sister for causing her own operation to be postponed.

I collected them both from hospital and had to tell Danni not to lift her case.

“Why not?”

“In case you pop your fanny.”

She looked at me in astonishment and began to laugh, “You’re joking, Mummy–aren’t you?”

“No I’m not, the muscles in your abdomen are quite strong and could cause the lining of your vagina to be expelled.”

“What, like fall out?”

“Yes, they call it a prolapse and it can happen to biological women too.”

She laughed in disbelief.

“Theirs can’t fall out, don’t be silly, it grew there with the rest of their body.”

“It can, my mother had a prolapse, your bum can do the same.”

“What? Your bum can fall off? That’s silly.”

“Your bowel can fall out through your anus.”

She looked at me in astonishment as if I was telling a joke. “It’s true,” confirmed Sammi, “there was a picture of a weight-lifter who strained himself lifting and his guts came out through his arse. Covered everyone nearby in shit.”

Danni looked at her in disbelief but allowed me to bring the cases down to reception where I then left them and went to get the car. I loaded them and my two passengers.

“So how come you won’t prelapse or whatever?” Danni asked me.

“I’ve been healed a lot longer than you, missy, I’m also bigger and stronger.” I think she rolled her eyes at me as she got in the car because I saw Sammi poke her. Thankfully the drive home was uneventful and Jacquie helped me bring the cases in–the weather was now driving rain with the prospect of it getting worse overnight. I hoped Simon would be able to get home from his office and was tempted to send him a text telling him to be careful.

The conditions continued to worsen outdoors and some of the fencing went awol which meant we had to be careful letting Kiki out. Tom was hoping Maureen would be able to help out the next day.

Meanwhile indoors the two patients had the other girls running round for them until I explained to them that they were quite capable of carrying a cup of tea or a book themselves, it was only lifting heavy objects or moving their lower body violently that was risky, so driving can be contra-indicated soon after surgery.

Both of them reported strange sensations down below which I was able to explain as the nerves healing, which takes some time–I didn’t tell them that some may not heal at all and the sensation retained/recovered is individual. I remember having the feeling that I had an erection a week after surgery which was most disconcerting. Some months later, it began to establish the new organisation down below and I was aware of sensations coming from inside me, which was gratifying on several levels.

David came in to do the dinner and didn’t look at all well. I sent him home and whatever he was going to do I ignored and did a cottage pie for quickness, using half a minced cow–shades of Desperate Dan–oh no, that was cow pie.

The girls arrived home from the salon and were absolutely whacked. They’d opened early and finished late trying to get everyone in to have their hair done before Christmas. They were also working on Christmas Eve until lunch time.

Simon got home at half past eight, the trains were all over the place with flooding and landslips. I was mightily relieved when he arrived and he was delighted when he found out it was cottage pie cooked by my own fair hand. While he was eating it, Ingrid phoned to say she thought David had flu–there was quite a bit of it about according to the school and other sources. That would mean me cooking Christmas dinner–oh well, it wouldn’t be the first time–but I also knew that David would do it better, were he well.

I was pretty sure he’d organised a turkey and the other bits and pieces but I’d check the next morning. If he hadn’t, it was going to be a long day, a very long one.

“What’s the problem?” asked Simon as came off the phone.

“David has possibly got flu.”

“Poor chap–that can be nasty.”

“Yes I know. It also means I have to cook the Christmas dinner.”

“You’ve done it before, in fact you’ve done it several times.”

Don’t I know it. “Yes I know, but compared to how he’d do it, mine is rather amateurish.”

“You’ll be fine–besides if you’re that worried we’ll go to the hotel.”

“You can’t book the hotel tomorrow for the following day.”

“Wanna bet?”

“No, nor do I want to put the catering staff to any further troubles, it will be fraught enough without the owner’s family turning up en mass.”

“It’s an option.”

“Thanks for the thought, but providing David has ordered everything, I’ll manage somehow–if not we’ll have cottage pie again.”

“If it’s as good as that was, I’ll happily eat it again.”

“I wonder what they’d call it made with turkey mince?”

“Foul?” he suggested before I chased him out of the kitchen.

The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2238 by Angharad Copyright © 2013 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

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“It’s good to have the girls home,” said Si as we snuggled down for the night.

“They’ve been giving the younger ones the run around, fetching and carrying for them.”

He chuckled, “I doubt they’ll do it for very long.”

Not if I have anything to do with it, they won’t. “Are you working tomorrow?”

“No, I have loads of Christmas shopping to do.”

“Um, darling, I don’t know yet if David organised all the shopping for the Christmas dinner.”

“What? Surely he ordered a turkey?”

In Africa, I think they call one the size we have, an ostrich. “I don’t know, he was so poorly, I sent him home.”

“Yeah, but surely he’ll be able to tell you, won’t he?”

“I hope so, apart from the fact that I don’t know where I’d get a two ton turkey on Christmas Eve, I don’t know what I’d do if a second one turned up.”

“Oh that’s easy—cook it.”

“I shall probably spend much of Christmas day cooking bloody turkey as it is...”

“Well then, problem solved...”

“That I don’t wish to spend the whole of it doing so.”

“Oh, typical woman, bloody selfish.”

I was just about to make him as dead as fresh plucked turkey when I realised he was winding me up. “Pig.”

“Oink oink.” Was all he said before he started laughing, “Honestly, woman, you do take life so seriously, don’t you?”

“Simon, my stress levels are somewhere out beyond the moon. I have two post operative children to keep an eye on plus a dinner to cook, plus organise the Christmas tree and other decorations.”

“Okay, first point: we have a qualified nurse in the house—what’s wrong with her pulling her finger out of her arse and helping?”

“She does usually, but she’ll have shopping to do. I have some too, apart from the food, I’ve a few things I want to get.”

“Remember, you said we weren’t doing presents to each other.”

“Who said I was buying anything for you?” I asked, although it was him I was looking to buy for.

“No one, but just in case you’d forgotten...”

“I hadn’t and if you remember I told the children a while back they weren’t getting opulent presents this year.”

“Opulent—in this house?”

“I think a nine year old with an iPad is pretty opulent.”

“Nah, just think if Einstein had had one, he’d have done his theory of relativity by lunch and gone home early for Christmas.”

“I think he was Jewish.”

“Was he? You do surprise me.”

“Duh?”

He lay back and laughed—bugger, he’d caught me twice now.

We finally went off to sleep but I had dreams of being pursued by plucked ostriches—can’t think why. Apparently, an ostrich has a kick powerful enough to kill a full grown lion. As far as I know turkeys don’t.

I woke at seven feeling I’d missed some hours between bedtime and now. The alarm was switching into the Today programme and I had better things to do than lie there and listen to it. Lizzie whimpering in the distance was one. The storm that was coming was causing loads of worries and lots of people had lost their power or telephones, or been flooded. I felt sorry for them and wondered what we’d do in that position. I think that would be the final straw—although we do have a generator in the garage somewhere. If Maureen comes to do the fencing I might ask her to check it over, if she has time.
I struggled out of bed and picked up Lizzie, who smiled when she saw me and started saying, “Ma ma ma.” I didn’t have the heart to tell her I wasn’t. It took me half an hour to feed her and Simon captured the bathroom while I had the boob sucker distracted.

Jacquie fed the young uns, by that I mean she got them breakfast, apparently Julie and Phoebe grabbed a very quick breakfast—a few slices of bread and left. I learned afterwards they have a toaster at the salon, a microwave and fridge as well as the kettle. They’d eat as they worked—in between clients.

Lacking the extra muscle of Danni, I got Simon and Jacquie to bring the Christmas tree into the house, scraping off all the woodlice and spiders that had made the bottom of the tub their home, before they did so. I laid out a plastic sheet and told Trish it was her job to make sure the tree had at least a couple of litres of water a day—a large pop bottle was about that amount.

I phoned Ingrid and David was quite poorly. She assumed he’d ordered everything but she wasn’t prepared to disturb him he seemed so ill—she was waiting for the doctor to call. I nearly told her we were waiting for Santa to do the same.

I was poking about at the paperwork he keeps when a large van drove up and we were delivered of a turkey. How the hell they expect me to put that in and out of the oven, I have no idea—it must be thirty pounds if it’s an ounce. Jeez, I’ll end up with a prolapse or a hernia.

I was mulling this over when Simon said he was off to get a few things and disappeared before I could ask him to get some stuff for me. I found the sausage meat next to the turkey in the box plus a pound of smoked bacon. I was feeling a mixture of hunger and despair as I checked all these things.

I decided I was going to cook the bird over night on a low gas. I was going to wrap it in foil after basting with my special brew and dusting with seasoning. The sausage meat would form the basis of the stuffing and could be done on Christmas day.

During the morning of Christmas day, the power used by people cooking their dinner can cause a drop in the supply and the same happens with gas. So by doing it early, hopefully, I’d miss out on that and also have a very tender bird to serve for our Christmas dinner.

I checked the vegetables and we had plenty of those, plus the fact that I saw Tesco were due to drop us a whole pile of food. I checked the cupboards and freezers. There’d be just about enough room to store it all. It was about this time I realised I’d not had any breakfast, so I had some tea and couple of digestive biscuits—any weight I lost would soon be recaptured with the ritual eating over the next few days.

I did jacket potatoes for lunch with cheese and coleslaw or baked beans for them who wanted it. Simon returned and ate his share before falling asleep in the chair. Trish and Livvie had done their best to decorate the tree helped by Stella who announced she was out that afternoon. I echoed her statement. I had shopping to do and was going to do it—though quite what I was going to get Simon, I had no real idea. I mean what d’you give a man who has everything and is exceedingly wealthy? Yeah, I know, penicillin, but seriously, what could I get him? Then an idea came to mind—a set of flies—not for his trousers, but for fishing—either that or the stuff to tie his own.

I sent a text to Henry, ‘Does Si tie his own flies? C xx.’

His reply: ‘No he uses a zip like everyone else. H xxx’

How the hell do they manage to run a bank?

The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2239 by Angharad Copyright © 2013 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

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I finally managed to get away after the human vacuum cleaner got another titful of milk. Seeing as she’s not even my kid, she seems to get quite a bit of my time, especially as the other dairy cow had gone shopping before I could escape. The way she slipped away was almost suspicious. I know I am anyway, if there was a god, I’d suspect he’d had an off day when he created humans, we really are of no use to anything except ourselves. Even carnivores can’t really eat most of us as we contain too many poisonous chemicals like dioxins.

I got to town about half past two and was surprised to see the lunacy that is Christmas shopping hadn’t abated very much, perhaps people were hoping for even more reductions on goods? I’d looked up the name of a tackle shop, which I believe is the correct term for a shop which sells piscatorial equipment. Thankfully, most of the mayhem was back towards the town centre and Gun wharf, so I parked the car virtually outside–eventually. Thank goodness for parking sensors, even I can do it then–I just have to remember that the continuous tone precedes that of metal crunching and glass breaking.

I shut the car door and peeped the lock entering the shop a moment later. I’d seen someone looking out the window at me as I parked the car and the look exchanged by him and an old man who was presumably a customer. It soon became obvious that they had me down as a bimbo–which with regard to things piscine is possible not far wrong.

“How can I help you, me dear?” said the oldish chap behind the counter.

“I’d like your advice, if I may.”

“But of course, fire away.”

I thought I’d play up to them before I come clean. Hopefully, they’ll enjoy the jest. “My husband goes fly fishing, or so he says, how anyone can catch flies with a fishing rod baffles me.”

“Uh no, darlin’, the flies are bait for fish,” offered the ancient mariner who was propping up the counter.

“Oh, that sounds better–tee hee,” I gave this silly high pitched giggle and watched them both roll their eyes. “Oh I am a silly-billy.” The elderly one who looked like Popeye’s grandfather walked around behind me, presumably having a good look at the denim stretched over my derriere. “So what sort of zips do they use for the flies? Presumably, nylon ones as metal ones would rust.”

“Zips, darlin’?”

“Yes, oh I see they use buttons.”

“Buttons?” he scratched his head his face wearing an expression of, ‘we’ve got a right one ’ere’.

“Yes, you said flies–surely, they’re not press studs?”

“Flies as in blue bottles.”

“Oh,” I tittered and somehow managed to blush as well. “Silly me.”

“Is he looking to catch salmon or trout?”

“No, fish.”

“Salmon and trout are fish, darlin’.”

“Oh yes, of course they are.” The stage missed out on a real talent.

“Well?”

“Yes, they are fish,” I agreed.

“Yes, but which does he catch?”

“How would I know, I buy most of our fish from a fishmonger.”

“It would help if we knew where he went fishing.”

“Scotland.”

“You’re sure about that?” he asked just in case I’d confused it with a similar sounding country like Venezuela.

“Oh yes, we have a castle up there.”

“Castle?”

“Yes, draughty old place.”

The shopkeeper looked out of the window at my Jaguar, I was obviously an escaped lunatic, but possibly a wealthy one. “Is that your car?”

“The Jag, yes, hubby gave it to me for my birthday, I just love the colour.” It’s white.

“Oh yes, very nice.

“Well, I crashed the Porsche and the Merc, so far so good in this one.”

“How long have you had it?” asked the customer.

“Since yesterday.”

“Drive careful on the way home, then.”

“Oh I will, it’s never my fault. I mean what a silly place to park a car.”

“What was?”

“The car I hit.”

“Where was it parked?”

“In a car park, I mean...”

They were both thoroughly enjoying the show I was putting on for them. I noticed the time. It was three o’clock, I had to wrap this up a bit more quickly. My phone rang. I checked it, it was Simon. “Yes, darling?”

“Can you get some antacid, I mean if you’re doing the cooking–you know, to be prepared and all that.”

“Charming. I’ll see if I have time, at the moment I’m trying to negotiate how much discount I can get if I sleep with the shopkeeper.”

“Don’t do it for less than ten per cent, how much you spending?”

“About two pounds, why?”

“Nothin’, see you later.”

“My husband,” I giggled and realised they’d seen through my act.

“So, d’you want anything or are you just winding us up?”

“Yes, I want this.” I handed him a list of things and his eyes widened.

“If you buy all this I’ll sleep with you for nothing,” said the shopkeeper as picked things off shelves and out of drawers. Tom had helped me compile it, as he fished himself–or used to.

“I think I’ve enough on my plate without a divorce, thank you.”

The bill was over two hundred pounds and I handed him my debit card which he then put in the reader. “Dr Watts, is it?”

“Yes.”

“What, medical doctor?”

“Nope, I’m a biologist–but not freshwater. Had enough of that as an undergrad analysing desmids, diatoms and protozoa.”

“Important for fry to feed on.”

“Absolutely, but I prefer the larger consumers.”

“So the bit about the castle was nonsense?”

“Actually, no, that was the only thing that was true.”

“You own a castle in Scotland?”

“The family does, and a stretch of the river, plus an estate.”

“Pays well, does it, biology?”

“Not especially, I don’t have the opportunities that biochemists and bio-engineers have regarding patents. They can earn fortunes.”

“I’ll bet, so what do you do in biology–teach schoolkids?”

“Sort of, large schoolkids only we call them undergraduates and hope they’ll grow up by the third year–one or two do.”

“The university?”

“Yes, I teach ecology.”

“Good for you, people like you have helped clean up the rivers and protect environments.”

“I didn’t do it all on my own you know.”

“I don’t care, darlin’, it all helps.”

I left there with a spring in my step.

The rest of my shopping was like being caught up going the wrong way in the retreat from Dunkirk. I did get everything including Simon’s ant-acid tablets, hope he likes the new make, Cyanide or something like it.

This car had cruise control. In Portsmouth, crawl control might have been more use, I’m sure I saw the same woodlouse pass me three times. It gave me time to examine my list, I had everything on it including something for Tom, the girls including the older ones too, and for Stella and her brood.

All I had to do now was sort what we were having for dinner and cook it. I thought something like bacon and eggs with loads of toast or sautéed spuds. I had a case of tinned tomatoes from Lidl’s, which I thought were absolutely super, so I’d sacrifice a couple or more of those as well.

The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2240 by Angharad Copyright © 2013 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

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As we were eating dinner, bacon, scrambled eggs, sausages and anything else I could fry, there was a crash from the lounge and one small cat was seen fleeing up the stairs. Simon went to look and found the Christmas tree on its side. I suspect cats were vandals long before humans were, and ours is a natural at it. I picked up a cushion the other day and was covered by a blizzard of kapok, the culprit skitted away but she’d left her paw prints at the scene so I knew who was responsible.

“How did she knock that over? It takes two of us to move it,” Simon pondered.

“I have no idea, things just happen when she’s about.”

“Ah, that explains it,” he said triumphantly.

“Explains what?” I asked knowing I wasn’t going to like the answer.

“She takes after my wife, things just happen round her.”

I ignored the comment and asked if Maureen had done the fence.

“Yes, with Tom and my help. Took us two bloody hours, just for two panels.”

“I’ll bet they were done properly though, weren’t they?”

“Natch, I was on the case,” Simon beamed, sometimes I think he’s living in a different reality to the rest of us.

I finished eating and cleared up while the kettle boiled. “Two of my favourite meals on consecutive days, maybe we should sack that cook fellah and employ you.”

I got your antacid tablets,” was all I said.

“Oh that was a joke, babes.”

“Ha ha.” I continued loading the dishwasher while Julie made the tea.

“Don’t be like that.”

“Like what?”

“You know...”

“Simon, I am tired and stressed and have things to do. I don’t have time for silly schoolboy games with you.”

He went off to sulk but I stopped him, “You could check the Christmas tree is okay, it will probably need watering.” He went off to sulk with the tree. Norway spruce are renowned for sulking–no–that’s right, they pine.

I surreptitiously carried in my presents and locked them in the study. I had about two miles of wrapping paper and tags and sticky tape and Uncle Tom Cobbley and all. What I needed was some time to do it. The children were like bottles of pop, fizzing away.

Danni said what she thought she would like for Christmas and Julie riposted, “Wossat then, a vibrator?”

“Is that what you want?” Danni shouted back.

I intervened before they came to blows. “Mummy, can Cindy come for Christmas?”

“Sorry, lovely, we’re a bit full and if David is still sick, which looks most likely, I’ll have to cook the dinner–and you lot will have to help me.”

“I’m recovering from an operation–I can’t do anything.”

“If you’re not careful you’ll spend Christmas sitting atop the Christmas tree.”

“Nice one,” Julie sniggered as she went past.

“You’ll have a few things to do tomorrow, too, young lady.”

“What–I’m on holiday.”

“So am I.”

“Yeah, but you’re responsible for the house.”

“I take it you’d like to live somewhere else for Christmas.” This was ceasing to be funny.

“Oh don’t be like that, Mummy. You know I’ll help.”

“You better had or there’ll be no dinner.”

She looked aghast at that and scooted off before I found her something to do.

Tom is brilliant with the girls. He read them their story and tucked them in. Simon had to repair the lights and put a reward on the cat’s head. Knowing her, she’d enjoy the notoriety.

I managed to wrap everything I had to do, and carried most of it into the lounge and placed it under the tree. The lovely thing about having a houseful of young women, is they’re easy to buy for–especially little stuff. They all got things like nail varnish and panties, earrings and toiletries. Boys would be much harder–had been. I thought of Billy and Danny when they first came here–how their lives had changed or ended.

“Are ye alricht?” Tom caught me looking at the tree and sniffing.

“Yes, Daddy, I was just thinking of this time a few years ago.”

“Aye, I ken whit ye mean. She’s safe now, ye ken that.”

“I know, Daddy, but I still miss her.”

“Aye we a’ dae.”

“Are you going to the cemetery tomorrow?”

“I am.”

“May I come with you?”

“I wis expectin’ ye tae.”

“I’ve got some flowers in the car.”

“Aye, I thocht ye wid.”

He gave me a little hug and I went back to the kitchen. It was eleven o’clock and I was pooped. “I’m going to bed, darling,” I said giving Si a peck on the cheek.

“Yeah, okay–why’s the study locked?”

“I left some presents in there.” I blushed. “Why?”

“I wanted to borrow your Chambers.”

“Eh?”

“Dictionary–had a word I’d never come across before in the crossword.”

“What was that?”

“Repetiteur or something like that.”

“Yeah, a singing coach in the opera, isn’t it?”

“How the hell did you know that?”

“Crosswords I expect. I must go to bed, I’ve got a headache I’m so tired.”

“I’ll be up in a minute.”

I’d gone as he was saying this. I cleaned my teeth, stripped off, weed and pulled on my pyjamas and was asleep within minutes.

I slept quite well and woke early. I went down after dressing and started on sorting the turkey. Tom was just returning with Kiki who was playing with Bramble as they came up the drive. I made him some coffee and myself some tea. While the kettle was boiling I shoved some bread in the toaster and the bread mix and water in the breadmaker. It was churning away while I ate my toast. It was only six when I’d finished dressing the turkey and making the stuffing, which I cook separately.

I shoved the bird in the oven on a lowish heat and nodded to Tom. He rose, dumped his mug on the draining board and pulled on his coat. On the way out I got the flowers from the boot of my car. They were for all the occupants of the grave and included a small sprig of holly and mistletoe–well it’s Christmas.

On the way back from the cemetery, he chuckled, “They wis a’ amused by yer Christmas touch.”

“I’m glad,” I said pulling myself into him. I felt cold despite my thick coat and woolly hat. We were back at seven and just had time for another hot drink before Simon descended followed by Julie. I couldn’t believe my eyes.

“You’re up early, sweetheart?”

“I couldn’t sleep, thinking about all you have to do, so here I am. What’s first?”

I hugged and kissed her. “Breakfast, then it’s vegetables.”

“What can I smell?” she said.

“The turkey, I started it early. It’s going to need several more hours yet.”

“Wow–I didn’t think it would take that long.”

“I’m slow cooking it.”

“Is that like gonna kill all the germs an’ things?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, all right, I get my breakfast.”

Simon made more teas and helped me carry in a large bag of potatoes. “Peel, all of them?” squealed Julie.

“Uh huh.”

“Geez, next time I’ll kick my conscience out of bed an’ stay there myself.”

“No you won’t because you’ve grown up. You know what responsibility is and you deal with it. I’m proud of you, kiddo.”

“Oh, thanks, Mummy, I really appreciate it, but I’m staying in bed next year.”

“Who knows where we’ll all be next year.”

“That sounds ominous.”

“No–I just don’t take things for granted anymore.”

The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2241 by Angharad Copyright © 2013 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

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Simon set to and helped Julie with the potatoes, we only used a fraction of the bag but I wasn’t going to tell that to Julie, not to begin with. While they did that I peeled and cut crosses in a couple of pounds of sprouts–I don’t particularly like them, but the others do. We finished about the same time. I did carrots and parsnips–I loathe the latter, but appear to be in a minority of one. I also did some red cabbage and few whole green beans. Julie made us a cup of tea while I got peeling mushrooms.

I glanced at the clock. It was nine o’clock, “Where are all the others?” I gasped, it’s Christmas morning, they’ve usually been up for four hours by now.

“Daddy told them they had to stay in bed until nine o’clock to give you a chance of a lie in.”

“How did you manage that?” I asked of my husband, seeing him in a new light.

“I asked them nicely and they agreed, all except Jacquie and she’s looking after the bairns.”

“You asked them or threatened them?”

“A bit of both,” he smiled enigmatically, or tried to; the Mona Lisa does it better.

Ten minutes later, I’d finished fleecing the fungi and drinking my tea–multi-tasking–as all us women do, when a horde of minors burst into the kitchen, washed and dressed in good clothes. Stella appeared behind them strutting about like Miss Jean Brodie.

“Goodness, you all look very neat and tidy.”

“My gels are the crá¨me de la crá¨me,” said Stella dead pan, obviously we were both on the same wavelength. It all descended into farce when Simon recognising the quote from the film said, “ ’Arry Pottah.”

“What?” asked Stella, “Is that supposed to mean?”

“Well, you were doing Professor McGonagall, weren’t you?” replied a dead pan Simon, who was getting better with his wind ups.

“Very funny–next Christmas you can do their hair for them.” She huffily went to fill the kettle.

“Well I think you all look splendid–please try to keep them clean all day.” The throng went off to have breakfast as I placed the potatoes on the range to boil. I was roasting them but to speed up the process I parboil them. I checked the turkey, it was doing fine. I then got the tub of breadcrumbs and emptied it in the mixer, one of the advantages of having a proper cook in the house usually, he makes his own bread crumbs. I added dried sage and some onion, some butter, salt and pepper and mixed it up poured some boiling water over it and left it to stand. Next I did sausage meat stuffing, finally I did chestnut and apricot stuffing. Theoretically, you eat a full meal just from the stuffing. Trish came to help me donning a plastic pinny en route.

Jacquie had her breakfast and then began vacuuming helped by Livvie while Meems watched over the little ones. I’m sure she’s either going to be a nursery nurse or midwife–she loves babies and small children. Mind you, so do I and look what happened there.

Danni and Sammi eventually ventured down and after breakfast, Danni laid the table and Sammi sorted the sound system so we had carols playing in the lounge and dining room.

Tom and Simon lit the fire in the lounge, Simon going out to the woodshed to bring in a basket of logs which he stacked in the fireplace to dry–remember, the fireplace is big enough to stand in and the hearth is separate from the fireplace, it sits in the middle in a raised plinth with a cage to contain the logs that are being burnt. It also takes a dogs age to get the fire to go unless you use firelighters, which neither were prepared to concede they needed. Simon uses them for the barbecue but not with logs–he was a boy scout, and all that...

Finally, everything was under control, the dinner was cooking, Julie was making a fresh fruit salad for dessert so I slipped upstairs to shower and change into something tidier. As I dressed I saw something on the bed by my pillow; a package with my name on it. I opened it carefully and saw two silk negligees, one a rose pink and the other a pastel blue–they were beautiful. Only Simon could buy something so exquisite–or his PA. I would thank her later.

I left one folded on my pillow for tonight.

After a quick squirt of scent, so I didn’t smell so much of turkey, I went down and told the children they could get their presents. They’d disappeared before I finished speaking and Simon and Tom stood their smirking. I suppose they’d shown amazing self control and I was impressed by it.

For the next hour we watched them shredding paper and holding up clothing or other items. It seemed they were quite pleased with their hauls. I know Daddy was with his book on malt whiskies and a case of samples from thirty distilleries. I handed Simon the key to my study, “There’s some more stuff in there, would you do me a favour and bring it through.”

“Sure,” he said and off he went. There were lots of presents, most with his name on them. He came back with everything else and distributed them, handing me back the key. “I thought we weren’t doing presents anymore?”

“We aren’t are we?”

“What’s all that stuff in the study?”

“What stuff?”

“You know damn well what stuff?”

“You brought all the stuff I left in there, so what stuff is that, then?”

“Follow me,” he beckoned and I stepped between the children as I followed him to my study. “All this,” he pointed at a pile of gift wrapped packages.

“I have no idea.”

“Come off it, Cathy, this is your study.”

“Perhaps Santa missed the chimney. How d’you know they’re yours?”

“They have my name on them.”

“Do they? Perhaps you’d better open them then, their contents might give you some clues about the donor.”

He didn’t need a second bidding and ten minutes later he stood in the middle of a pile of paper holding a box of fly tying tools, including a small vice, forceps and various threads, a free standing magnifying glass, a pack of bits of fur and feathers they use to make the flies plus a book and DVD on how to do it.

“This must have cost you a fortune,” he said looking like a boy in a toyshop.

I shrugged, admitting nothing.

“I’ve always wanted to tie my own flies,” he said nearly in tears.

“Looks like you’ll get a chance then.”

“Thank you so much.” He stood alongside me and pulled me into a kiss. “Merry Christmas, wifey.”

“Merry Christmas, darling.”

He kissed me again. “I don’t know what to say–I’m speechless.”

“Don’t say anything.”

“I don’t deserve it, I really don’t.”

“Simon, a few years ago when I was doubting everything about myself you, having come to terms with my unusual route to womanhood, supported me through thick and thin. You’ve continued to do so. You’ve given me material things, like the bike workshop and one of the bikes, you’ve given me cars and more importantly, you’ve given me your heart. This, my darling, is payback.”

“Christ, Cathy. I don’t know what to say except I love you.”

“Don’t say anything, just kiss me.”

The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2242 by Angharad Copyright © 2013 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

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After our ‘quiet moment’ we returned to the fray and astonishingly, dinner turned out to be of an edible variety. I sent Sammi over to David’s cottage to see how he was and to deliver the presents I’d got them. It appeared he wasn’t at all well and Ingrid had been too busy to worry about making a dinner for them. When Sammi returned with this message I helped her carry three dinners over to the cottage before we ate our own. Ingrid was very grateful.

Having played Lady Bountiful and visited the poor estate workers, I got stuck into serving us ours and as Tom had now carved half the turkey I was able to slap on quantities of vegetables and gravy to go with it. Simon, ever the schoolboy, passed a dish of sausage meat up to Stella, saying, “I hear you want stuffing,” I didn’t catch her response but it was probably more original than his remark.

Everyone was just finishing when Henry and Monica arrived–unannounced. Thankfully there was enough food to give them a dinner as well. I muttered to Simon, “If I’d known they were coming, we could have waited.”

Simon blushed, “I–um was about to tell you when you sent me to the study–I kind of forgot it.”

Simon scuttled off to open some more wine and this time I had some, a Rioja. The younger children hung around to see what they’d brought as Christmas presents but I sent them off to play while their grandparents ate.

“Cathy, this turkey is delicious,” said Monica what sort of baste do you use?”

“I just use one that my mother showed me one Christmas.”

“A family secret, passed on from mother to daughter, eh?”

I hadn’t thought of it like that.

“So which one will you favour with your recipes?”

“I’m not sure any of them are that interested in playing housewives.” Sammi cleared her throat and I looked across at her, “Except Sammi, who is thinking of getting engaged.”

“Oh how wonderful,” Monica enthused and I left them to talk about it. Henry was busy talking to Danielle.

“And this person you considered a friend?”

“Yeah, Gramps–until then, yeah. Still she got me through the op a bit quicker than if I’d had to do the full year life test.”

“But what she did was just a trifle dangerous, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah, I lost a lotta blood.”

Henry was looking upwards so I suspect he was imagining what that was like. Not unexpectedly, the sausage he was about to cut, he pushed to one side–can’t think why.

“So you’re a proper wee girl now?” he said to Danni.

“Yes, Gramps, I even have to push this...”

“I think that’s enough detail, Danielle, Gramps is still eating.”

“Mummy doesn’t have to do it now, she has Daddy to that for her.”

I now have Rioja stains on my tablecloth. No, it wasn’t me who choked but my pa in law.

Once dinner was over and I’d cleared up helped by some of the girls, we settled down with a cuppa and chatted. The kids were still waiting for their Christmas presents from Henry and Monica who eventually deigned to get them from the car just before it was time to think about tea.

One of the reasons they’d waited until it was dark was so they could show the presents to good effect. They all had torches and one or two had infrared binoculars. Okay, so they weren’t state of the art like the Us Army has, but they were better than the sort you see advertised in the Sunday papers. I made them put their coats on before they went outside with their toys. To Julie, they gave her the freehold of her shop. She squealed with joy–no more ground rent. Henry congratulated her with having the courage to take on a small business and make it work, for her effort, he chose to reward her big time.

Sammi, he gave a bracelet in gold and diamonds, for her service over the previous year, including working whilst in hospital. She was pretty pleased with it.

To Jacquie he gave a new computer–one which Sammi had recommended and set up for her. She was very happy and I told her she had no excuse for not doing some online learning.

Phoebe got a complete set of waterproofs and boots for her scooter which pleased her. Stella got a cheque, which puzzled me–I mean she’s a millionaire in her own right, so why give her money?

He handed a card to Simon which was addressed to both of us. Simon tore it open and his face lit up. “What is it?”

“Show her, son,” said Henry.

I read it two or three times before I understood what it said. If I understood it correctly, and my Spanish is pretty poor, it told us that we were now the owners of the villa on Menorca.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” suggested my husband almost squaring up to fight. “This far too much.”

“Yes I know,” Henry agreed taking the wind out of Simon’s sails. “But it wasn’t for your efforts I gave it.”

“Gee thanks, Dad.” Simon’s expression dropped down to his shoes. I’d have words with Henry about that later.

“It was through the work of your lovely wife that we realised how important she was to the family and also to the bank. I believe there are dormice on Menorca, perhaps you will be able to see one.”

“Much as I’d love to see one, Henry, this–this is too much, even by your standards.”

“It’s done now, I’ve transferred ownership to both of you, so I expect to hear you’ve taken the kids over a couple of times a year. You could always let it out, but I prefer not to and then not have to lock all my stuff away. It’s up the end by Mahon or Mao, near the freshwater lagoon they have and a nice safe beach. The nearest town, really more like a village is Es Grau. The villa is in the nature reserve, so you shouldn’t have far to go to see things, like eagles or red kite, even osprey at migration times.”

My mouth was drooling, so I closed it.

“Yeah, so you can see eagles and red kite from the castle,” challenged Simon.

“When it stops raining,” smirked Henry. “Why not see what your lovely wife thinks, eh Cathy–or are you not into bird watching or seeing wild tortoises?”

I was drooling again.

“There’s a Range Rover in the garage. It’s all yours.”

“I thought you had a villa up near Ciutadella?”

“I have,” he smiled, “And I’m keeping it.”

“Thank you, Henry, so much.” I hugged him and kissed him.

“Keep that up, old girl, and you’ll get the other one as well.” Simon gave us a very disapproving look and his father roared with laughter.

Tom came and invited Henry to have malt tasting session with him and I knew from then on that he’d be missing the rest of the night until they decided to stay or Monica drove them back to Southsea. Thus ended our Christmas–well all I’m going to tell you about. I did wear one of my new nightdresses, but that’s all I’m going to say...

The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2243 by Angharad Copyright © 2013 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

---

Somewhere in the distance a phone was ringing, in my dream there was... Damn it, it’s got louder. I reached out and banged my hand on the bedside cupboard and sat up whimpering–well it bloody hurt. I switched on the light a weal was forming on the back of my hand. Just as the phone rang again and I jumped, Simon sat up and muttered half asleep, “Woss goin’ on?”

“Hello?”

“Cathy?”

“Who else are you expecting?”

“Sorry,” said Ingrid, “I’m worried about David.”

“What’s wrong with him?”

“I can’t wake him.”

Oh shit. Think, “Is he breathing?”

“I think so.”

“Is he warm?”

“As toast, he’s sweating like a pig.”

You’d think as a biologist I’d know if pigs actually sweated. I don’t. “I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

“What’s up?”

“David is sort of unconscious and very hot.”

“Sort of unconscious?” asked Si as I pulled off my nightie and pulled on some clean knickers and then my trousers. I was so glad I washed before I settled down after you know...too much information, you don’t really care do you? You don’t wish to know that if you’re lying down when...it can take a while to drop out...yeah, okay, too much...

I pulled on a bra and clipped it behind me.

“How can you do that so fast when it takes me five minutes of fumbling to get it off you?”

“Girl guides.”

“But you weren’t in them, were you?”

“For two weeks,” I responded pushing my arms through the sleeves of my sweater.

“Two weeks?”

“My Lady Macbeth era, Siá¢n thought it would be fun to enrol me. My dad found out after the second week and made me resign.”

“Pity,” he shrugged, “Want me to come?”

“If I do I’ll ring.”

“Okay.” He laid back down. I switched off the lights carrying my shoes and sock with me. It was throwing it down as I dashed over to the cottage. Thankfully, Ingrid had left the door open.

“Up here,” she called me and I ran up the stairs. David was breathing very rapidly and I suspect shallowly.

“Call an ambulance,” I said to Ingrid and while she was doing so I assessed my unfortunate cook. His pulse was racing and he was sweating copiously. His body temperature was very high. I tried to scan him but for some reason, it didn’t or wouldn’t work. It doesn’t always.

“They’re coming.”

“Good, he’s burning up, isn’t he and his pulse is fast and furious as well. I suspect an infection. Get some cold water and some flannels and let’s try cooling him a little. She rushed off and came back with a bowl of cold water and two clean face cloths. I immediately wrung one out and started wiping down his face and neck. She started on his torso. It wasn’t going to help that much, but anything is better than nothing.

Blue lights appeared in the drive and the paramedics drove their van up to the door. They took one look at him and listened to his chest. “He should be wheezing like mad, I reckon pneumonia. Okay, hospital and quick.”

We helped them get him on to a stretcher and then to negotiate the narrow stairs with their precious and heavy load. “You his wife?” asked the senior paramedic.

“Me? Good lord, no. I’m his employer, that’s his partner.” I pointed to Ingrid who was coming out of Hannah’s room.

“You coming, luv?”

“What about, Hannah?”

“You go, I’ll see to Hannah.” As she went out the door, “If you need a lift home give us a shout and we’ll organise it.”

“Okay, thanks, Cathy.”

Off they went and down I sat. Then I jumped up when Hannah wandered into the sitting room. “Where’s Mum gone?”

“She’s gone to hospital with David.”

“What for?”

“David was taken ill and needed hospital care.”

“He’s been ill for a couple of days.”

“I know, but he worsened tonight.”

“Oh, can’t you mend him with the blue stuff?”

“Apparently not.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know, it doesn’t tell me.”

“Oh–he’s not going to like, die, is he?”

“I hope not.”

“He berrer not.”

“I hope not.” I didn’t know. People did have an unfortunate ability to corpse when in my vicinity, and my cooking wasn’t always to blame. Cooking–ha. Compared to David, I made soup and bread–actually, I made neither, one was the product of a bread-making machine, the other a hand blender. I’m a dab hand with a blender and so far haven’t actually blended my hand yet.

“Why don’t you go back to bed, Hannah?”

“I don’t like sleeping here on my own.”

“I’ll be right here.” I said tapping the chair in which I was sitting.

“I’ll come and sit with you–you wanna cuppa tea? Mum says you drink gallons of it.” Character assassination by a ten year old.

“You could always come over to the house with me.”

“Nah, I’ll sit with you.” With that she sat on my lap and cuddled up to me in an easy chair which wasn’t really designed for multiple-occupancy. I sat uncomfortably as she went off to sleep in a couple of minutes. She snuggled up to me and zonked.

After about twenty minutes, she was getting quite heavy and my arms and legs were either going to sleep or getting pins and needles. Just as I thought I’d have to ask her to move when Simon arrived. “Babes?” he shouted.

“In here,” I called back quietly.

“What you...” he paused in mid shout when he saw the sleeping girl lying on top of me. “...doin’ in here?”

“Do I need to answer that?” I hissed back at him.

“Not really.”

“She’ll have to move or I’ll be permanently deformed.”

“Little one’s squawking for you.”

“Damn, I forgot to feed her again.”

“Swop?” he pointed at Hannah.

“Is it still raining?”

“A bit.”

“Get a blanket.”

He trotted upstairs and came down with a travel one–“All I could find.”

He picked her off me and the relief was enormous except I couldn’t quite stand on one leg, so I sort of hopped around and covered her with the blanket in his arms. By the time we went outside, I could walk or even run and we trotted back to the house where Tom was standing in the kitchen with the kettle boiling–that’s experience for you. It wasn’t apparently, he just fancied a cup of tea–to dilute the alcohol?

We tucked Hannah up in the dining room on the sofa and left some background lighting on so she’d see where she was. Simon sent me up to bed and lay down on the sofa on the other side of the room. I told him no and sent him up to bed. There was no way I was having him compromised by sleeping in the same room as a young woman. He didn’t quite understand my point but I insisted and got another blanket and pillow, then with my cup of tea and my book, I settled down for what remained of the night. It was four o’clock on Boxing day morning.

The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2244 by Angharad Copyright © 2013 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

---

I woke up stiff and tired. I could hear the rain lashing against the windows and for a moment had to think where I was. The strange weight lying on me was Hannah, who appeared to be fast asleep. I carefully wriggled out from underneath her and went off to the loo–probably my main reason for waking. It was still dark. I went back to the dining room and she was sleeping peacefully on my sofa, so I took her one and tried to get off back to sleep. I suppose I must have achieved it because I was woken by Jacquie bringing me a cup of tea–it was half past nine. Hannah, had had breakfast and Julie had gone over with her to collect some clothes from the cottage. I was increasingly proud of my Julie.

Livvie and Trish were playing with the Wii in the lounge and Mima was helping to sort out the little ones. I allowed myself the luxury of a hot shower and after drying my hair combed it out and dressed in a pair of leggings and a long tunic type top, with some ankle boots on my feet. I was putting on a little makeup, trying to conceal the rings under my eyes–lack of sleep–when the phone rang. It was Simon. I hadn’t even noticed he wasn’t there.

“Where are you?” I demanded.

“Dad and Monica are asking if you’d all like to come out to the hotel for lunch and the use of the facilities?”

“I don’t, but the younger element might.”

“Well go an’ ask ’em.”

“Don’t give me orders,” I complained.

“C’mon, Cathy, time is of the essence.”

“To you, maybe.” Taking the phone with me, I canvassed support from the younger family members and they all replied in the affirmative. When Julie and Hannah came back, she was enthusiastic about it and Hannah seemed to latch on to her and said the same.

In the end, Trish, Livvie, Julie and Puddin’ opted to go. I told Jacquie to go while she had the chance but she decided to stay with me. Stella agreed to go if I’d watch Fiona for her, Phoebe, who’d been in the loo when I asked who wanted to go, was in firm favour. I reeled off the list to Simon who said he’d send a minibus and for those who came to bring a towel and a sense of adventure. I suggested a swimming cossie might be useful as well.

An hour later the intrepid hotel goers left in a coach. How the guy who was driving it managed to turn it round in our drive astonished me. I have difficulty turning my Jag, but then I’d have problems parking anything bigger than a bicycle.

“Whit’s fer lunch, hen?

“No, we had turkey yesterday, I’m cooking chicken today.”

Tom looked at me in total bewilderment. “Whit?”

“I said, I’m not cooking any more poultry for a week or two.”

“Whit?”

“You heard you .”

“Aye, I did, but I didnae unnerstan’ ye.”

“You asked if I was making chicken.”

“When?”

“Just now, you asked what was for lunch and added chicken.”

He began to laugh for several moments. “Ye silly bugger, I said hen, meaning you.”

“I’m no chicken.”

“Aye, we’d noticed.”

“When was that?”

“Aboot every couple o’months by ma reckoning.”

I fed the Lizzie while the soup I eventually made simmered for a while. The mixture of smells coming from the pot and also the bread machine made me feel hungry, but didn’t seem to be doing much to keep little Lizzie awake as she kept nodding off at my nipple. I stroke her face and she’d suck a few more times, then off she’d go again.

Given the pressures of the past couple of days, I wasn’t really surprised. She felt relaxed with who she recognised as a maternal figure and as I offered her the ultimate delicacy, warm breast milk, she was well away–quite literally.

Cate pestered me for a suck herself and I had to let her up to get a few mouthfuls or face the consequences. It was safer to feed her.

I served up the lunch as Ingrid phoned. She was ready to come home. Tom put down his spoon and went to collect her. We all continued with our meals as neither of them would eat on their own, and it gave us a chance to catch up with a few other things. I put on some boiling ham, we wouldn’t be eating turkey after the soup was gone. I’d decided on ham with parsley sauce, new potatoes, carrots and broccoli. I could have done sprouts but I suspect none would have eaten them. Meems kept the little ones entertained as I got on with the dinner–changing the water in the ham. It wasn’t entirely necessary. It was from a local butcher who cures his own ham and gammon, which is delicious. So there wasn’t loads of salt washing out, so I only changed things once and kept the water to make pea and ham soup tomorrow.

I let Tom and Ingrid finish their lunch before I asked for a progress report from Ingrid on our erstwhile chef. I made us all a cuppa and sat at the table with them.

“He had a heart attack.”

“Wow.”

“Brought on by pneumonia. Took them a while to identify what had happened and put him on antibiotics. A few more minutes and he’d have died at home. His heart stopped in the ambulance.”

I felt myself go cold–it was that bad. So why didn’t the blue energy show itself? Surely it wouldn’t have let him die, would it? It had better not, or I would wash my hands of it.

“The prognosis?” I asked.

“He’s in intensive care, but they think he’ll pull through. I’m afraid he’s going to be out of commission for a long while.”

“Oh well they’ll have to get used to eating soup and fish and chips quite often,” I replied trying to indicate we’d manage until he came back.

“I’m sorry about that, perhaps Simon can find a temporary cook until my David is well enough to resume his duties.”

“Relax, I wasn’t complaining. We’ll cope. He’s a family treasure, so we all want him back in top form.”

“Aye, we dae,” seconded Tom.

“Oh, I thought you were...”

“No, Ingrid, we weren’t. I’d have thought you would have known that by now.” In fact she kept her distance. She did do some cleaning for me but it wasn’t that much, a few hours per day, which she often skipped to look after Hannah or David. I suspected she would be even less reliable while he was ill.

“I’d better get back and sort Hannah out, she’s probably watching the telly.”

“She’s not.”

“Oh, how d’you know?”

“She’s at Southsea with the others, Henry invited all who wanted to go to do so. She’s gone swimming.”

“I wished she’d asked me first.”

“Relax, Ingrid; she’s having some fun after all the worry.”

“But her costume is a bit old.”

“It doesn’t matter. It’s not a beach in St Tropez, it’s a hotel and she’s a kid having some fun over Boxing day.”

“Hmm, okay, I hope she is enjoying herself.”

“I’m willing to bet she is.”

The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2245 by Angharad Copyright © 2013 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

---

The two recent additions to the female part of the family were miffed they hadn’t been able to go swimming, but I didn’t think it would help them or the other pool users to soak in a large pool of chlorinated soup. I wasn’t sure how healed they were and in return, I didn’t want them washing any bugs into the water. In the end Danni went to watch the others, and Stella would ensure that was all she did. Sammi, on the other hand stayed at home and decluttered my computer. It was getting slower but after she finished, it went like new again.

She really knows her stuff with computers but I suspect she might be even more naíve than I am, especially when it comes to boys. It might seem strange to some that having lived as boys, male to female transsexuals, are all at sea when it comes to dealing with boys as sexual partners or even friends of the opposite sex. It’s fraught with all sorts of problems.

I left the little ones in the capable hands of Mima assisted by Jacquie, they all seemed to be having fun. I went upstairs to change having splashed soup all down my top when Cate pinched me on the bum while I was eating it. Exiting my bedroom having donned a clean shirt I heard what I thought was Sammi crying. I crept up to her bedroom and sure enough she was lying on the bed sobbing.

I tapped on her door and entered. She sat up with a start, her makeup all a mess and her hair far from the usually tidy arrangement. “What’s the matter, sweetheart?”

“Nothing,” she said.

“I see, so you just felt like having a bawl?”

“Yeah, something like that,” she sniffed completely missing my pun. Even Trish does some of the time, so a mind as sharp as a razor, doesn’t always pick up the play on words that puns are.

“Care to share it?” I asked plonking myself down alongside her.

“Not really,” was her rejoinder.

Oh, that surprised me. “Not regretting the surgery, are you?”

“What?” she gasped, “No, that’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

I was disappointed again, I thought moving in with us was the best thing, but then what do I know? “Good, I’m glad–it gets a bit difficult to reverse.”

“Good. No after coming to live here as I felt I was intended to, the surgery has been a great confirmation of who I see myself to be.”

“What–a fanny?”

“Eh?”

“I think you need to rethink what you just said, I think you meant to say how you feel yourself to be, unless you’re gang a’ Scots on us?”

She paused and thought about what I’d said. “Yeah, okay. I’m a woman with a fanny.”

“Yes, and having one doesn’t make you a woman but it’s a damn sight easier if you have one.”

“Yeah,” she smirked.

“Now, what upset you?”

“Nothing.”

“You said that before and I didn’t believe you–nothing has changed–I didn’t come down in the last fall of snow.”

She had to think about that as well. What do they teach these kids in school and university? They’re academically clever but they can’t hold a conversation.

“Okay. I’ve been dumped.”

I looked at her. “Dumped?”

“Yeah, seems like the man I thought was going to make me his wife has found someone who grew their own fanny. So that makes me a boy with tits and gash between my legs.”

She burst into tears and cried on my shoulder. “It doesn’t make you any less a woman, but in my eyes it makes him less a man. If he had any guts he’d have come and told you in person, I take it he didn’t?”

“Sent me a text, the bastard,” she blurted over my shoulder. It seems people don’t do ‘Dear John’ letters now, they send texts. Sometimes I really fear for the future of the human race. We have a generation or more of people whose education is worse than mine was, their general knowledge is appalling, their manners are non-existent, they have no idea of the value of money and they feel they have no hope for the future. Add to this the fact that they can’t be away from each other without constant texting or sending stupid and often pornographic selfies, have no common sense or moral stamina, and you see why I worry.

My generation is failing our children just as the one before did and before that. Philip Larkin was absolutely right, ‘they do fuck you up.’* I try my best to help my kids but I suspect I’m not making a very good job of it.

I held her while she cried. “Perhaps you deserve someone better.”

“There isn’t going to be anyone better, is there. As soon as they find out what I am, they run away as fast as they can.”

“That’s what I thought would happen to me, that I’d eventually correct my body to match my mind and I’d live in a sterile celebration of how unaccepting people were of transwomen or men. I was wrong. Daddy came along and the rest is history. If I can do it, I’m sure a pretty thing like you will be able to with one hand tied behind your back.”

“Ha ha, some chance. I’m a chimera compared to you, you really are a woman, Mummy, and you and Daddy were made for each other.”

“Sweetheart, when I met Simon I was absolutely terrified of him. I knew nothing about him, only that he had a homicidal sister whose driving was lethal, but who was unperturbed by my transitional state.”

“What?”

“You haven’t heard the story of how we met, Stella, Simon and I?”

“I know she knocked you off a bike or something.”

“Oh, it’s a bit more complicated than that...” I related my first encounters with Stella and Simon.

“You landed on top of him?”

“Yes, my heel caught in my skirt and I tripped up and landed on top of him throwing red wine all over him.”

She laughed, “That is so funny, Mummy. You literally fell for each other.”

“Literally perhaps, in relationship terms I wasn’t at all sure about him, plus I hadn’t let slip my little secret. Stella told me to keep quiet about it until it became obvious we were going somewhere together.”

“That makes sense, perhaps I told shithead too early?”

“You might have done, but then it gets progressively harder as the relationship develops and they find out you’re not what you purport to be. It can get messy and even violent then. Loads of transwomen get beaten up or killed every year.”

“Yeah, I know, Mummy, but so do lots of biological women.”

“Well said, now you’re sounding like a woman–not some sort of hybrid you mentioned before.”

“Well that’s what I feel like–I’m a woman. Yeah, I’m a woman, I don’t need some stupid dork to shag me just to prove that. Do I?”

“Sweetheart, welcome to feminism and real womanhood.” We hugged and she thanked me. “Now go and take a good look in the mirror–and laugh.”

She got up peered into the mirror of her dressing table, “Oh my god,” she gasped, then a moment later she laughed before washing it off and reapplying it.

- https://www.goodreads.com/author/quotes/64716.Philip_Larkin

The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2246 by Angharad Copyright © 2013 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

---

Simon called just after my little táªte-á -táªte with Sammi. The kids were having a meal there which he hoped would save me some work at home. It would and I thanked him for his consideration. I asked how Danielle was, and he said she was having fun helping in reception.

I wasn’t sure what that meant but decided it was perhaps better not to know all that went on in my children’s lives. After returning the phone to its place I asked the remaining members of the family what they’d like for their dinner, bearing in mind I’d just boiled some ham. They agreed ham with parsley sauce would be fine, so that’s what they got and it was pretty good too, if I say so myself.

Ingrid had returned for dinner and went from it to see David. I decided that I could best help them by babysitting Hannah thus letting her mum go to see David with no pressure to return to see to her. Ingrid wasn’t so pleased that Hannah had stayed at the hotel for dinner.

“Don’t worry about it, she’s having a whale of a time.”

“With all due respect, Cathy, she isn’t your daughter.”

“I’m well aware of that, Ingrid, but she’s with my daughters and Simon and Stella are both there to supervise the fun, so she’s perfectly safe.”

“I wish you’d asked me first.”

“You were busy, if you remember.”

She went off far from convinced that her only flesh and blood was safe and sound. I didn’t like to tell her that the chances of anything happening to her precious daughter were far higher if I was there, statistically, at any rate. So hopefully, everyone would be safe and sound.

After dinner, Daddy went off to his study to have his wee dram and a snooze. Mima and Jacquie were dealing with the two little ones and Sammi and I tried watching telly but there was really nothing either of us wanted to see.

“Did I tell you, you’re a brilliant mother, Mummy?”

“If you did, I must have missed it.” I wondered what brought this on.

“Well you are, and I apologise if I ever thought otherwise.”

“Compliments are always welcome though I’m not sure why I suddenly deserve that one.”

“You know,” she said enigmatically, which usually means I don’t.

“You mean our little chat after lunch?”

“That and many other things. I don’t think I ever appreciated how much you do for us until I thought about getting my own place. It was gonna be good looking after my own man, like you do, until I thought about all the things you do for us, which I doubt I could do myself.”

“Why not?”

“No one ever showed me how.”

“Showed you how to what?”

“To cook an’ things, to do the cleaning and even repair my clothes.”

“I suspect we can remedy much of that over a period, but it will take a while for you to feel proficient.”

“Yeah, I know you tried before and I wasn’t interested. I couldn’t see the wood for the trees.” This was quite an admission coming from her. I was tempted to push for more compliments but then thought better of it. I know I’m supposed to be an adult, but...

“So what would you like to start to learn first?”

“Um,” she blushed.

“Well?”

“How to make love to a man,” she blushed but then so did I and more than she did.

Talk about winging it, I flew by the seat of my panties but she seemed happy with all I said, which wasn’t very much.

“So I listen to my body, watch what happens to his and use my imagination. Is that right?”

“Pretty well, kiddo.”

“It seems too easy.”

“If it wasn’t we’d have become extinct as a species millions of years ago. Remember this is what everyone does to reproduce...”

“Except you and me, Mummy.”She bore a pained expression.

“The fact that we can’t doesn’t mean the method is wrong, just the equipment.”

“Yeah I know, but when I lie there shoving that bloody plastic thing in and out, I wish it was Brad Pitt or some other Adonis and we were trying to make real babies.”

“You think I don’t? Well not the Brad Pitt bit, maybe David Tennant or Colin Farrell.”

“Does Daddy know you have these fantasies?”

“Of course, I’m a normal woman with normal needs.” I was still blushing like a stop light.

“Hmm,” she teased me. “I thought transsexuals were under sexed.”

“They might be,” I snapped back, “but I’m a woman.”

She suddenly launched herself at me and gave me a huge hug. “I’m so glad to hear you say that, Mummy. I know how you’ve struggled with all this stuff.”

“How d’you know?”

She blushed, “Um–Daddy mentioned it.”

“Oh did he now?”

“It wasn’t like that, Mummy, he sort of mentioned it in passing.”

“Go on...”

“Um–he’d say things like, he couldn’t understand how you were the loveliest woman he knew and yet you had no confidence in yourself as a woman.”

“I told him you were the most natural woman I knew which was why I found it so easy to see you as my adopted mum. I knew your history, it was all over the media a few years ago–little did I think I’d ever meet you let alone know you and share your home. You were my idol, when I saw you on the telly talking about saving a little girl’s life and being with Daddy, who said you were a woman as far as he was concerned, and his family.

“I’d only ever seen one or two who really looked female, Paris Lees was one but she’s an activist, I wanted someone who just got on with life rather than rubbed everyone’s nose in it.”

“She’s a very lovely young woman, but then so are you.” I’d seen Paris Lees on some TV programme and decided she was a very lovely young woman, who looked and sounded like a lovely young woman. So many of the ones you see on telly or the internet are gruff voiced, especially some of the American ones.

“Thank you, Mummy, but you’re my role model and always have been.”

I hope she left out the petulance and tantrums from her version of role models. I suppose every mother is a role model for her daughters, and I suppose I’d thought of it for Trish and Danni and perhaps to some extent, for Livvie and Mima as well. Though part of me feels that’s a bit of arrogance as they’re natural females and I’m–sod it, I’m female as well.

“In which case, get your sewing stuff, let’s do some needlework.” The look she gave me was priceless but at my repeated urging she went up to her room and came back with a small cardboard box with a few needles, a few reels of cotton and a pair of scissors. “Is that it?”

She nodded. “I never had anyone to show me.”

“Let’s put that right immediately,” and an hour later she was hemming her first pair of trousers.

The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2247 by Angharad Copyright © 2013 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

---

She pulled on the trousers and was astonished that they fit her. “Well done, you’ve just altered your first pair of trousers.”

She paraded in front of the mirror looking very pleased with herself, then she turned and gave me a huge hug and a kiss. “Thank you, Mummy.”

“Don’t thank me, you did it all.”

“Only because you showed me what to do, I’d never have been able to measure them up and shorten them.”

“But you did it, and you did it all.”

“Yes I did, didn’t I?” She smirked, “So if I can do that how come you can’t learn to use Linux?”

“Different skills involved,” I said defensively.

“Nonsense.”

“Oh, is that the time?”I said and bustled out of the lounge and into the kitchen. She followed me–so she got another lesson, in filling the bread machine. They might be cleverer than I am, but I’m sneakier.

At nine, a minibus disgorged its contents and my house became full again. Ingrid arrived shortly afterwards and we had a row between her and Hannah. Hannah had had some fun and didn’t want the day to end. Her mother already stressed from visiting David was unsympathetic.

I managed to separate them and made Ingrid a cup of tea and we sat in the kitchen. “I know what’s best for my child,” she insisted. Sadly, parents are often the least informed about what their children need.

“Look, Ingrid, while you’re so busy visiting David, why not let her come in here to play with my girls.”

“You’ve got enough children, you’re not taking mine as well.” This cut through me like a knife. She realised what she’d said and apologised but it’s always too late, the damage is done.

I accepted her apology. “Actually, Ingrid, I don’t want any more children, especially girls.”

“But you turned all the boys you had into girls.”

“I didn’t turn anyone into anything. I know what gender discomfort is all about so I wouldn’t encourage it in others.”

“So how come all the boys you had here are now girls?”

“Trish, Julie and Sammi were all on their way to girldom when I met them. I accept Danielle and Billie were boys when they came here but I didn’t encourage them to change.”

“You didn’t stop it though, did you?”

“No, but I took advice from an expert before I let them continue exploring their gender and sexuality.”

“Hannah is ten years old, I don’t want her exploring her gender or sexuality.”

“You can’t stop it, it’s part and parcel of childhood and adolescence. We aren’t formed fully formed when we emerge from our mother’s wombs, we grow into the people we are to become–or where we aren’t allowed to grow we shrink into the people we shouldn’t have been, constrained and restricted and full of inhibitions and complexes.”

“You can’t just let children run amok.”

“I agree whole heartedly, they need boundaries to protect themselves, but they need to be wide enough to allow the children to explore themselves and others.”

“Oh, so it’s okay for kids to have sex, is it?”

“That would depend on their age and maturity, and even then I’d be a bit anxious about it and would probably say no were they to ask. In some ways I can be a bit over protective.”

“Oh,” she was obviously seeing me in a different light. An hour ago one of my elder daughters was singing my praises now I was being reappraised by someone who obviously wasn’t a member of my fan club.

“I think we feel different about bringing up kids, but I think I can trust you with Hannah.”

“She’s welcome here anytime, as are you and David, although I appreciate he probably spends enough time here usually.”

“He loves it here, loves all of you. Me, I’m wary of people who’ve got so much money they don’t think like we do.”

“I haven’t always had much money. I lived for three years on beans on toast when I was an undergrad.”

“See different world–you’re posh an’ educated, I ain’t.”

“You attended the university of life, while I was up the road from Brighton. I learned loads of things about biology, chopped up rats and dogfish aplenty. Where did that get me? It didn’t explain why I felt and looked like a girl but was officially a boy. It didn’t teach me about relationships as a boy let alone as a girl. I spent three years playing with microscopes, and oh yeah, I can make wonderful slides of nematodes or a slice of rat brain but how does that equip me for life?

“When I first met Stella and Simon, I was trying to cope as a boy who was rapidly growing breasts and hips. I was also trying to study for a masters in mammal ecology, especially dormice. I was heading for a nervous breakdown, trying to keep everything together. I was disowned by my father who tried to kill me and I then attempted to finish the job. Thankfully, I was rescued and I collided with Stella who encouraged me to transition. She had to loan me some clothes because the ones I was wearing were damaged when she hit me off my bike and into a hedgerow.”

Ingrid gasped, “She hit you off your bike–she could have killed you.”

“Yes, she could, however, instead she took me to her place cleaned me up loaned me some clothes, did my hair for me and helped me with some makeup and the next thing I know, Simon comes in and fancies me.”

She snorted, “No?”

“Then I caught my heel in my skirt and fell on top of him covering him in red wine.”

“Oh my god,” she said and chuckled. “It didn’t put him off then?”

“No, but I had no idea about dealing with boys–as a girl, that is.”

“You seemed to have learned since, the way you dealt with my ex, that was brilliant.”

“Was it? I thought he beat himself, I just enabled him to do it.”

“I couldn’t ha’ done it.”

“Perhaps with the correct training you could, but what I’m trying to say, is we all need room and encouragement to grow.”

“Hannah, can come tomorrow–all right?”

“Would you like to tell her?”

“What an’ show how you bamboozled me?”

“You don’t think I did that, do you?”

“No, not really.” She shrugged and apologised again. I patted her on the shoulder.

“It’s been a long day for all of us. Oh, how is David?”

“Struggling–could do with that mystery woman who appears at the hospital now and again and heals people with all sorts of things. They say she’s really an angel.”

“Perhaps if you believe in her enough, she might just come.”

“Nah, not me, things like that don’t ’appen to me.”

“Never lose hope, you never know what’s around the corner.”

“Didn’t you used to do somethin’ with healin’?”

“Used to, haven’t done anything for ages.”

“Maybe you could contact this angel woman?”

“I don’t know, perhaps I will just try.”

“Thanks–you’re a good un, Cathy. Sorry about what I said earlier–I shouldn’t have.”

“It’s been a long day, take Hannah home with you, tell her you love her and get some rest. We’re here if you need us.”

There was a minor contretemps until Hannah realised she could come again tomorrow, then she went off quite happily. Meanwhile, I wondered how I could try and help David without anyone finding out. Life doesn’t seem to get any easier or less complicated, does it?

The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2248 by Angharad Copyright © 2013 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

---

I had a dilemma. It would appear that Ingrid doesn’t know of my alter ego in the form of the mysterious healer. An appearance is always a risk, let’s face it, that guy two thousand years ago got into trouble for it and he didn’t have the disadvantage of the internet reporting on him two seconds after he’d raised the dead or whatever.

I went to my study to contemplate. I did have a plan, but whether it would work was another matter. I didn’t even know if I still possessed any healing skills, and I hadn’t heard the girls talk about it for a while–it’s almost as if they had forgotten or unlearned how to do it. Perhaps that’s how it leaves–pretends it never existed–and you forget.

I sat and tried to meditate, difficult when a small cat is doing its best to ascend your curtains using crampons. “Bramble, if you don’t stop annoying me, I’m going to wring your neck and see if I can resurrect you, you feline toerag.”

She just squeaked at me and continued her ascent of the north face of the study curtains. Angrily, I threw some energy at her and it knocked her off the curtain and against the wall, dislodging some books which nearly decapitated her. I gasped in horror. I ran through what I had just witnessed, I flung my hand at her and a bolt of blue energy caught her admid-ships and knocked her clean off the curtain. The books fell off the bookcase and hit the floor by the side of her. She was currently peering at me from under the coffee table with understandable suspicion.

It appeared I still had some sort of access to the energy. As soon as I opened the door the cat fled through it like a demon was after her. In fact I wasn’t, I was sitting cross legged on the sofa trying to centre down. I hadn’t done it for ages and it is a practised skill, I was signally out of practice.

I have no idea how long it took but suddenly I was floating out of my body. I chose to go direct my mind to the hospital and to intensive care in particular. In no time–ha, on the astrals there is no time–I felt myself standing next to David’s bed. A nurse was taking his blood pressure and I walked past her. She looked up, shuddered slightly and continued what she was doing. David was either asleep or unconscious.

The nurse wrote something on his notes and left. I sat on the edge of the bed and spoke to him. He could hear me but seemed unable to respond. I deemed him to be either sedated or unconscious. Tuning into him I went into his mind and memories. His father had died of a heart condition and he expected to do so himself, it ran in the male side of the family.

Oh boy, this is going to be a little difficult. I tuned in some more and eventually found him sitting by a pool in a very lovely garden–why is it always a garden? “What are you doing here?” I asked firmly.

“Hello, Cathy, I could ask you the same thing–it isn’t your time yet is it?”

“Good lord, no. I’m only visiting.”

“Oh, anyone I know?”

“Yes you, you dummy.”

“What for?”

“You’re a damn good cook, that’s why.”

“That all?”

“Isn’t it enough?”

“Not really.”

“How about Hannah and Ingrid miss you.”

“They’ll manage.”

“Why should they, you’re not dead.”

“Just a matter of time.”

“We could all say that, meaning, fifty years or more.”

“I think mine is days rather than years.”

“How come?”

“Heart disease–runs in the family.”

“Yes, linked to the male side.”

“Exactly.”

“To the Y chromosome.”

“Yeah, so?”

“There is the little matter of you not having any.”

“What?”

“Your body is biologically female, or it was before you started altering things. So the deadly gene or whatever, doesn’t apply to you.”

“But I’m a man, in I?”

“Yes, and fine one at that, but just as my femaleness is physically expressed, it’s partly an illusion. My genetics remain male and yours female. You cannot inherit the heart disease, not the sort that killed your dad and grandfather.”There were obviously other types but I didn’t wish to cloud the issue.

“Are you sure about that, Cathy? I thought it was connected to testosterone?”

“What do I do for a living?”

“Drink tea down at the university with selected dormice?”

“Yeah, don’t forget the selected bit.”

“I presume you teach or do research.”

“In what do I teach or research?”

“Duh–the university.”

“In what subject?”

“Dormice?”

“Which of the sciences deals with that?”

“How do I know, I’m a bloody cook.”

“It’s not particle physics, is it?”

“How do I know?”

“Could it be biology?”I was patronising him but he wasn’t trying very hard, anyone would think he was seriously ill or something.

“Yeah, biology–yeah that’s it.”

“Exactly, so you would expect a biologist to know about things like genetics, seeing as they’re a biological system.”

“I suppose so.”

“Well then, I can assure you that your heart is okay and you won’t die like your dad did.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, his was sex linked.”

“Well he ’ad sex quite often, so it could be.”

“Sex linked means linked to male or female genes.”

“Oh does it?”

“Yes, it’s like pregnancy, it doesn’t happen without a pair of X chromosomes.”

“Hey that’s a good one.”

“Well of course it is, I spend all day at the university dreaming up jokes to put on the internet.”

“No wonder you get so tired.”

“Indeed. Now that we’ve agreed you don’t have an inherited heart problem, I’m going to fill you with energy to heal up the damage caused by the pneumonia.”

“Pneumonia? I ’ad pneumonia?”

“Yes, had being the operative word.”

“No wonder I feel rough.”

“Quite, but you’re feeling so much better.”

“People die with that–my granny did–maybe I’ve inherited that instead?”

“I’ve checked you out, you haven’t.”

“You could be just saying that.”

“Do you honestly think I’ve taken all this trouble to find you just to wind you up? Bloody hell, man, I’ve got better things to do with my time...”

“Yeah, writing jokes for the internet.”

“Quite–now listen here, I have to go in a moment. I can lead you back to your body.”

“No thanks, I’ll stay here.”

“You’d do that?”

“Yeah, why not?”

“Well because a woman I know is worrying herself to death about you, and a little girl is worried about her adopted dad. They both love you, you chump.”

“They’ll get over it–me.”

“Oh you really are a man, aren’t you? Selfish twit, only concerned about yourself.”

“Hey, hang on there, I care about them, too.”

“Prove it.”

“They’ll get my insurance money.”

“Whoopee doo–what about the man they both love?”

“They’ll find another, women always do.”

“I can’t believe you would turn your back on those two grieving girls.”

David began to cry. “You’re right, I can’t–I can’t leave them.”

“Here, take my hand.” He did and I filled him with energy and dragged him back to his body. “Now get in there and sort yourself out.”

“What?” he said and I pushed him into his ailing body, and the machines monitoring him went berserk. Nurses came running and I took my leave knowing that his body would now do as I told it, and heal itself.

“Cathy?” Simon’s voice seemed a long way off. “Are you all right?” In response I managed to open my eyes. “Phew, you had me worried for a moment.”

“Sorry, I was meditating and fell asleep, can’t move now.”

He gently eased me off the sofa and I stretched my aching limbs. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome–Oh Ingrid just called, David is out of crisis–just happened, one minute his heart and kidneys are packing up and the next he’s bouncing round again, all systems go. She says she prayed to the healing spirit to help him.”

“It must have worked, then.”

“So nothing to do with you then?”

“I’ve been here all evening, haven’t I?”

He looked suspiciously at me, “Oh, she said to say thanks to you.”

“What for?” I wondered if she’d twigged.

“She says you suggested it.”

Phew, that was close. “I might have done, can’t remember.”

“Come on, I’ve just made a cuppa for you...”

“Now you’re talking...”

The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2249 by Angharad Copyright © 2013 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

---

I was very tired when we got to bed and slept like a log, I didn’t even wake for a wee as I usually do when I drink tea last thing. I awoke when the alarm went off and noticed I was alone–Simon had gone back to work. I heard the radio say what day it was but I wasn’t listening and it didn’t register. For two pins I could easily have switched off the radio and gone back to sleep. I was rested but not restored.

Conscience got the better of me and I crawled out of bed into the bathroom and after my ablutions and shower, crawled back into the bedroom and started untangling my hair. I only had a towel wrapped round me when Danielle came in.

“Mummy, can I like, do something today?”

“Such as?”

“Go for a walk.”

“Have you done the deed?”

“What–had a poo?”

I rolled my eyes, “No, dilated.”

“Yeah, I shoved it in last night and slept with it in all night, had three sexy dreams and am now pregnant, carrying a two pound plastic foetus.”

“Are you taking the mickey, young lady?”

“Nah, wouldn’t dream of it with my super smart, Mum.”

“I have an idea of what you could do.”

“Oh good, something nice, I hope.”

“Yes, the homework you didn’t finish before you went to see Pia.”

“Can I go and see Pia?”

“That might be difficult.”

“You won’t let me, you mean?”

“No, she’s still in custody as far as I know.”

“Wossat mean?”

“She was arrested for her assault on you.”

“What assault?”

“I’d have said that attacking someone with a scalpel and removing their gonads and most of their wedding tackle, is assault. You could have died from blood loss.”

“It wasn’t part of the plan, but I guess it was always a bit of a risk.”

“What plan?”I was horrified. Did my son actually set this up to jump the queue for surgery? I doubt it, he’s not clever enough. “You mean you planned all this?”

She blushed, “Um–not quite. He was supposed to knock me out and chop off my balls.”

“You were going to allow a total amateur castrate you?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I was.”

“Well, Danielle, you’re more stupid than I thought.”

“It worked didn’t it?”

“Only just and it could just as easily not worked.”

“But it did.”

“I hope you realise you could quite easily have lost your penis completely.”

“Isn’t that the idea?”

“It is where the bits left over can be grafted into the new arrangement, being inverted to form a vagina.”

“Well that’s what happened, I’d call that a result.”

“Only because Mr O’Rourke was in the vicinity and was able to operate almost immediately. Promise me you’ll never do anything like that again.”

“Not unless it grows back, Mummy.”

“Have you dilated?”I asked because it’s easier to do with an empty bowel.

“Yes,” she sighed and rolled her eyes.

“Are you wearing false eyelashes, young lady?”

“Who me?”she batted them at me.

“Where did you get those?”

“At the salon.”

“The hotel one?”

“Like I spend all my time finding new ones?”

“There is no need to be cheeky, young lady.”

She blushed, “I’m sorry.”

“So how did you get them from the salon–did you buy them?”

“Um–no, Auntie Stella got them for me.”

“She bought you false eyelashes?”

“And adhesive.”

“Oh don’t forget the adhesive.”

“You can’t or they won’t stick.”

“I’m well aware of that.”

“You’ve worn falsies?”

“Yes and false eyelashes.”

“Kewel or what?”

“What is?”

“My mum has worn falsies and false eyelashes.”

“It was a long time ago.”

“C’mon, Mummy, spill the beans.”

“Oh alright then. I was still in school but being increasingly humiliated by Mr Murray the headmaster.

“He didn’t like you did he?”

“The understatement of the last century.”

“Well he didn’t did he?”

“No he did not, and I reciprocated that feeling.”

“Wossat mean, recip–whatevered?”

“Returned it to him.”

“Oh.”

“It could be said that we hated each other on sight.”

“I thought you said you didn’t hate anyone?”

“I suppose I don’t really.”

“Even old Murray?”

“Even him.”

I went into a short reverie thinking about when he saw me breastfeeding Cate and almost had a stroke. I felt myself smirking, I’d not seen him except at Mr Whitehead’s funeral.”

“You telling me about you wearing false eyelashes, Mummy.”

I came back to the present with a bit of a bump. “Oh, was I?”

“Yes you were.”

“Oh yeah, it was about the time of the Lady Macbeth thing, and he made me wear a bright pink scrunchie in my long hair to embarrass me. I used to do all sorts of things as well to get my own back.”

“Like what, Mummy?”

“I grew my nails and painted them.”

“An’ you wore false eyelashes?”

“It was Siá¢n who encouraged me, so she’d help me wear mascara or eyeliner–not every day, but once or twice a week. I’d got my ears pierced so I wore ear studs–usually pretty ones.”

“An’ you wore false eyelashes as well?”

“Yeah, top and bottom ones.”

“You can get bottom ones as well?”

“You could, I don’t know if they do them now, I mean these days you can get semi permanent ones they superglue on in ones and twos.”

“They put superglue on your eyes–yuck–isn’t that like dangerous?”

“It shouldn’t be in the hands of a capable beautician.”

“Can I have permanent ones, some time?”

“Not while you’re in school, you’d look like a hooker.”

“During the school holidays–then?”

“Possibly, they cost quite a lot to do.”

“Oh, do they?”

“Yes, thirty or forty pounds and they could irritate your eyes.”

“I’d still like to try them sometime.”

“Speak to Julie, she might be able to tell you a bit more about them.”

“Oh yeah, I forget that she and Pheebs are beauticians.”

She batted her eyelashes at me before asking, “What happened when you wore them to school, the false eyelashes?”

“I got sent home to take them off and the makeup I was wearing, it was a bit over the top. I can remember Murray saying to me now, ‘Watts, if you’re going to look like a trollop I’m not sure this school is an appropriate place to continue your education. I don’t want you corrupting the juniors.’ So I went home and took it off, and painted my nails a bright pink to match my scrunchie instead.”

“Wick-ed,” she said.

“I suppose in my own way, I was a bit of a rebel.”

“A bit, Mummy, you were totally radical.” With that she ran off and I wasn’t sure if I’d been paid a compliment or an insult. I hoped it was the former, I suspected it was. When I got downstairs Danni was still talking with Julie and Phoebe.

“I agree with Mummy, you’re two young for eyelash extensions. You’ll look like a tart.”

“Well Mummy used to wear false eyelashes to school.”

“Don’t be daft, she wasn’t allowed to wear makeup in school.”

“She just told me she did. She got sent home to remove it and painted her nails instead.”

“But she went to a boy’s school.”

“So, Murray mint, the headmaster, used to try and humiliate her because she had long hair and looked like a girl.”

“Yeah, we know.”

“It’s true, ask her?”

“Yeah, later,” she left grabbing her sandwich box accompanied by Phoebe who clutched hers to her side. Danni was left looking confounded.

The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2250 by Angharad Copyright © 2013 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

---

“They didn’t believe me,” she said surprised.

“I suspect they weren’t really listening.”

“Possibly, she said no to permanent lashes–why am I always too bloody young?”

“There is no need to swear, young lady.”

“Yes there is, they treat me like a kid. I’m thirteen for god’s sake, Mary had had Jesus by my age.”

I was impressed by her use of biblical sources in argument, usually she doesn’t use any sort of reference. “What’s that got to do with anything?”

“Yeah I know, she was a real girl and I’m not.”

“As we’re dealing with religious myth, it doesn’t really matter anyway.” I hadn’t realised my unconscious pun as I said it and I suspected Danni wouldn’t have seen it anyway.

“It matters to me,” she threw back at me.

“Since when have you had religious sensitivities?”

“They’re not religious, it’s just that we had a girl in our class who got herself pregnant.”

“At thirteen?”

“Yeah.”

“Poor kid. The Holy Ghost wasn’t responsible, was he?”

“No, some kid from Leigh Park.”

“Oh, there’s a surprise.” Unfortunately, Leigh Park is a huge council estate which has a certain reputation. It was said that any cat seen there with two ears was a coward or a visitor.

“So what happened to the girl?”

“I dunno, I left before she ’ad the baby.”

“I hope both are okay.”

“As if you care.”

“I do in an indirect sense. She’s potentially ruined two lives, hers and the baby’s. I suppose the boy got off scot free.”

“Probably, they always do–it’s always us girls who have to face the consequences.” As she said this I hope I didn’t goldfish too much. Not many months ago, she’d have been standing up for the poor misunderstood boy who’d been duped into sex by the temptress girl. I suppose she’s transferred all her support to team girl.

I do wonder how much she’s really thought this through, her story about letting Pia castrate her could be nonsense but she could also have been telling the truth. If so it’s quite frightening. I know she’s only thirteen, but she strikes me as demonstrating boyish recklessness at times in her pursuit of becoming female. I was far more guarded about it than she seems to be. Possibly that’s because this household is very transgender friendly, whereas in my day, I suspect very few would have been, so Tom Agnew and his wife were really special.

I suddenly thought of my mother and missed her very much. There is no substitute for your mum. I thought of the arrogance with which I’d accepted the role for Mima and Trish and then the others. Okay, Cate and Lizzie won’t have had the experience of any other mother–yeah, I know, Lizzie isn’t mine, I’m just borrowing her–but the others have, albeit negative or very short, so they should have something to compare me with. Do I actually want them to compare me? Not really, that would be a very dangerous route to take.

Stella appeared and I told her off for buying Danielle the false eyelashes. “Oh, Cathy, cut her some slack, didn’t you ever dress up when you were a girl?”

My response to that was curtailed by the doorbell. I wasn’t expecting any callers or deliveries and it was probably too early for Hannah, besides the back door is closer and she usually comes in through the kitchen. I went to answer it.

“Lady Cameron?” asked a plump forty something.

“Yes.”

She flashed an ID card. “Suzy Vallance, social services.”

I looked at her suspiciously. “I’m here to talk about Lizzie Allen.”

“Can you do that without her father being present?”

“Oh yes, we spoke to him just before Christmas. I believe his younger sister lives with you as well?”

“Yes.”

“Cheer up, Lady Cameron, you haven’t done anything to worry about, it’s just that you need to make your fostering of Lizzie official if you’re to continue doing it.”

“I see. You’d better come in then.” I led her into the dining room and offered her a coffee which she accepted. I spotted Stella and asked her to make us two cups, she grumbled but understood.

“D’you mind if I see the baby?”

“Not at all, she hasn’t long been fed, so she’s probably asleep. Shall we drink the coffee first and then disturb her–she can get a bit crabby or she’ll look for another meal.”

“What are you feeding her with, I mean which formula milk?”

“We aren’t.”

“She’s a bit young for solids yet isn’t she?”

“She has some solids with milk.”

“You haven’t got her on cow’s milk?” she almost gasped.

“No, she has breast milk.”

“From the hospital?”

“No, from the breast.”

Stella brought in the coffees and nodded at the social worker. “Is that your sister in law?”

“Yes.”

“She has a young child as well doesn’t she? Is she the milk donor?”

“Occasionally.”

“Who else is there.”

“Wait here.” I went and got the sleeping infant and returned with her. She was crabby and she did demand a feed and I did pull out a breast and she suckled on it. Ms Vallance was suitably shocked.

“Oh–so you’re feeding her?” she asked with eyes as big as saucers.

“You have a problem with that?”

“N–no, of course not.”

“You just didn’t believe I could do it?”

“Um–course not.”

“Ms Vallance, your body language doesn’t really agree with your mouth, you know.” She gave an embarrassed smile.

“She certainly looks healthy enough.”

“Ouch, the little bugger has started getting a couple of teeth through. Stop chewing on me you little monster,” I said to Lizzie and she gave a milky giggle, then a burp. “Her manners are appalling.” Ms Vallance thought that was amusing and actually smiled.

I signed some papers declaring I was fostering Lizzie and Ms Vallance shoved them in her bag rather quickly. She blushed again and said, “There is one other matter I was asked to discuss with you.”

“Was there?”

“I believe you have several children who started off life as the opposite biological sex?”

“I’ve not made any secret of this, so why is it suddenly a matter for you to need to discuss with me.”

“Um–I believe one of them was seriously assaulted just before Christmas requiring remedial surgery which has left him with female genitalia.”

“Her. Boys don’t have female genitalia, so she is now her.”

“I’m sorry, our records show her as one Daniel Maiden.”

“They’re outdated. She changed her name to Danielle Cameron a while back.”

“We weren’t informed.”

“Why should you be? She’s my adopted daughter.”

“She was a boy when you adopted her.”

“I’m well aware of that.”

“So it would seem you did it again.”

“Did what again?”

“Turned a boy into a girl.”

“The only thing I’ve turned into anything is unhappy children into happier ones, and I plead guilty to that.”

“I’m sorry, but d’you think I could speak with Daniel?”

“I have to insist that I remain present while you do so?”

She nodded her agreement and Lizzie gave a huge burp as her comment.

I called Danielle and she came trotting into the dining room. Thankfully, she’d removed the false eyelashes.

“Danielle, this is Ms Vallance from social services.”

“What d’you want–I live here now, with my mummy and daddy. I’m happy, so bugger off.”

I rebuked her and told her to apologise for her rudeness. She was very reluctant to do so but I insisted.

“D’you mind if I ask you a few questions?” Ms Vallance asked Danni.

I cast a glare in her direction and she nodded. Being rude to social workers isn’t a good policy. “Why did you start dressing like a girl?”

“’Cos I wanted to, all right?”

“Danni, please answer the questions more politely.”

“But, Mummy, they asked me all this in hospital.”

“Who did?”

“They did; social flippin’ services.”

“Did they? No one told me or asked my consent.”

“We don’t need it, we were investigating a sexual assault.”

“Is that the correct term for it? As far as I’m aware there was no sex involved other than the assault was on her previous sex organs.”

“Can I go now?”

Ms Vallance nodded and Danni, kissed me on the cheek and left.

“I suspect we’ll be back, Lady Cameron.”

“I’m not going anywhere and neither are any of my children.”

“You realise that the boy who assaulted hi–her, is in custody?”

“I had heard, and I believe she prefers to be referred to as a girl as well.”

“Does this happen to any boy who comes into contact with you?”

“And the odd girl who goes the other way–you’re not suddenly filled with urges to become a man are you?”

“No, certainly not.”

“Nah, it usually takes a bit longer.”

“What does?”

“The desire to change sex. It can take a few days.”

“What?”she gasped, “but I’m perfectly happy as a woman.”

“So is Danielle, just bear that in mind, won’t you as you leave.”

The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2251 by Angharad Copyright © 2013 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

---

I shut the door behind our unwelcome caller. “What was all that about?” asked Stella.

“Social Services, they haven’t forgiven or forgotten.”

Stella gave me a rather puzzled look.

“They’ve tried to take the children off me several times.”

“Yes I know. I was there a couple of times, remember?”

“Sorry, I forgot for a moment. I suspect they’re still trying.”

“Why? I’d have thought they had enough real problems to deal with without coming here for you to kick arse.”

“I had to sign some form to continue to foster Lizzie.”

“What does her father think?”

“They said he was asked about it and agreed to it.”

“Have you thought to ask him yourself?”

I hadn’t and said so. "If you want to shoot up to Guilford this afternoon, I’ll hold the fort.”

When she felt in the mood, Stella had a heart of gold. I thanked her and went to organise lunch, omelettes given we had a surfeit of eggs. I ended up doing them with a side salad which we all enjoyed.

Stella said she was going to give Danni some instruction in makeup, to which the other younger girls also signed up. Mima and Jacquie would look after the littlies, so I asked Sammi if she wanted to come with me. She wasn’t sure but agreed. Obviously, I took Lizzie with us and we set off after clearing up the lunch dishes–Stella had some standards and acting as a kitchen maid wasn’t one of them.

Lizzie went into zonk mode as soon as the car started which made Sammi snigger. I quietly told her not to laugh too loudly as it might not work on the return trip. Guildford isn’t that far but it takes a while to get there and the traffic was quite heavy and the roads in places showed the signs of the water that had fallen over the past week or two. In some of the fields, there were small ponds, lakes and rivers I had no recollection of seeing before.

“Comfortable?” I asked Sammi.

“Yeah, dilating isn’t much fun even if I pretend it’s someone nice.”

“That’s because you don’t get the build up with a piece of plastic. It doesn’t romance and seduce you.”

“No it doesn’t,” she smiled.

“So men have some advantages.”

“Yeah, but the plastic doesn’t tell lies then dump you.”

“True,” I agreed, “but pretty well everything in this life is a potential risk. Much of it also has a potential for reward as well.”

“Like what?”

“I think we’re all agreed we have to kiss a few frogs to find our Prince Charming.”

“You didn’t.”

“He just happened to be the first frog I kissed. Beginner’s luck.”

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, well it doesn’t run in the family, does it?”

“What d’you mean?”

“Well, Auntie Stella seems to have dipped out.”

“Stella is rather unfortunate in affairs of the heart.”

“Didn’t both her blokes get killed?”

I nodded.

“Weren’t they both your cast offs?”

“Certainly not.” I blushed and nearly missed our turning.

“Well I heard they really wanted you but you were spoken for.”

I pulled up outside the clinic. “Why would anyone want me when they could have Stella?”

“Because you’re more beautiful?”

“Very funny, want me to organise an appointment with an optician.”

“Isn’t beauty in the eye of the beholder?”

“So they say.”

“So to my eye you’re better looking than Auntie Stella.”

“C’mon, let’s get tiny wee in her push chair.”

Amazingly, she stayed asleep until after we got into the clinic and asked to see Neal.

“He’s not been very good of late,” offered the receptionist.

“Did he get the Christmas presents we sent?” I asked.

“I think so, but he’s been really quite depressed since before Christmas.”

“Aren’t you people supposed to be making him well again?”Sammi asked quite coldly.

“We’re doing our best, young lady.”

“For the fees the bank pays, it might not be good enough,” Sammi continued. She might have had a point.

We got to see Neal who barely recognised us and who didn’t recognise his daughter. “She looks a bit like my daughter, she’s with her mother Gloria, they’re both out this afternoon, pity you missed them.”

I wasn’t in the mood to play games with him or his delusions so we cut the visit short and while Sammi pushed the pushchair back to the car, I spoke with the receptionist. “Tell me, have social services been to see him regarding his daughter?”

“I don’t honestly know, d’you know when?”

“Just on Christmas, I think.”

She pulled out a large diary. She scanned it for the whole of December, then got the current one out and scanned it as well. “I’m afraid no one has been to see Neal since you came a couple of months ago.”

“Could they have written to him?”

“I doubt it would be much use, you saw how he was, he’s been like that for weeks.” I thanked her and went out to join Sammi and Lizzie. Lizzie had woken and was grizzling. I had to feed her again before we could leave.

If the traffic going to Guildford was bad, going home was worse by far. The sales shoppers and those finishing work early for parties and what have you, were a constant nuisance. I drove again and thankfully, Lizzie went off to sleep again with the engine noise or whatever it is that sends them off, and Sammi and I chatted over the radio which was on low volume.

“How’s the computer, now?”

“Much better.”

“They need doing every couple of years.”

“What did you do?”

“Took all the stuff off it that you used, dumped onto an external hard drive, cleaned all the rest off, reformatted and returned your junk to it once again.”

“You did it quite quickly.”

“Mummy, I’ve done that so often, I can do it in my sleep.”

“Oh, I was hoping mine wasn’t too bad.”

“It wasn’t, but you hadn’t cleared your cookies and history for two years, or dumped any old emails.”

I blushed. I wasn’t much good with computers being just a couple of years too old to have the blasé confidence the twenty somethings have today. I’m still minded that I might break something and then I’d get lumbered with the bill for it.

Watching Trish in action or even Livvie, they have no qualms whatsoever, if the break it, they break it. Usually they don’t, they just magic up whatever they want and then surf some more. I sit there worrying if I remembered if I save something about ten items back. Usually I have but not always.

“Did social services visit him in the end?”

“If they did it wasn’t logged.”

“Is that good or bad?”

“For who?”

“Us of course.”

“Not sure.”

We arrived home and I had to decide what I was going to do for dinner. However, all that was forgotten when we entered the house. Stella was really distraught.

“What’s happened?” I asked, but she was too distressed to tell me.

Trish who’d been crying from the look of her red rimmed eyes said, “They got her.”

“Who got who?” I asked none the wiser.

“Social services, they came and got Danni.”

“What?” this was a nonsense–how could they take my child? Why hadn’t anyone called me, I had my mobile with me. Sammi reminded me that I’d switched it off when we went into the clinic. I hadn’t restarted it.

I comforted Stella and the others while I told Sammi to call her dad. A state of war existed between us and the evil empire.

The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2252 by Angharad Copyright © 2013 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

---

I spoke briefly to Simon who was gobsmacked. “They took Danni?”

“Yes, according to Stella.”

“I’ll get Jason straight on to it. Why didn’t they take the others as well?”

“That’s a question I asked myself, unless it was because she was the one who was assaulted by Pia and her little knife.”

“You’d better make plans for a tactical withdrawal of the rest of them.”

“D’you think they’d try again?”

“They could become emboldened by their temporary success.”

“If they try again, I’ll send them back in body bags.”

“Cathy, while it might be enjoyable it would only be short lived and you’d miss them growing up in prison.”

“Okay, no bodies,” I said seething with anger as realisation of what had happened set in.

“I’ll ask Jason to keep you informed.”

“Thank you.”

“I’ll try and get home a little earlier.”

“That would be good.”

I rang off and waited for Jason to contact me.

“What happened exactly?” I asked a now calmer Stella.

“Jacquie was out with Trish, Livvie and Meems, they had Cate in the pushchair and went out to feed the ducks or something. About twenty minutes after they went the doorbell rang and that woman was here again with a court order and a police officer. They asked to see Danielle and then told her she was being taken into care for her own protection, she screamed the place down but they took her away all the same.”

“That’s tantamount to kidnapping.”

“Not with this,” she handed me the court order.

“I’ll fax a copy of this to Jason.” I scanned a copy into my laptop and sent it as an attachment to Jason. Two minutes later I had an acknowledgement from one of his underlings.

I made us a cuppa and asked Jacquie to make sure they kept the others inside and all doors locked. No one was to be allowed to enter without my say so–except family members of course. “It seems a particularly brutal abduction.”

“I thought so.” Stella sipped her tea.

“Mind you, I’ve never seen a child taken into care–the method I mean. The order only names Danielle, and that in her previous name, and I told that cow she’d changed her name to Danielle Cameron some weeks ago.”

“Maybe that’s what did it?”

“The change of name?”

“Yeah, we were making the changes official.”

“But the surgery was the important thing, surely? Names can be changed back and fore as much as you wish, but you can’t replace a bit that’s been surgically removed.”

“Could this have been drawn up before they knew about that?” Stella scanned the court order again. “The date is, twenty eighth of December.”

“Last week. It tends to suggest this morning’s visit was a reconnaissance.”

She nodded an agreement.

“If I meet her again, I’ll knock her block off,” I said in exasperation.

“I get first go,” said Stella and we both smiled at each other.

Jason phoned back and told me he was going to see a judge to get the court order rescinded by a higher court and a full hearing organised. I thanked him and asked him what the chances were of getting her back tonight.

“Reasonable, we’ll have to serve the rescission on the council and insist they return her.”

“What if they’re making her dress and act like a boy?”

“She used to a short while ago, Cathy.”

“If they’ve harmed her, I shall sue them into bankruptcy.”

“The whole council?”

“If necessary.”

“Who’s going to empty your bin if you do that?”

“I’ll offer the chief exec a job as a refuse collector.”

“Enjoy your fantasy, Cathy, I’m off to court.”

“Good luck,” I said but I think he’d already rung off. Now I had to wait, maintain some sort of patience and trust to the justness of our cause and perhaps more importantly, the skills of our barrister.

To start with, time was running out for the day. It was becoming early evening. If only I hadn’t gone to see Neal, I’d have been home and would have fought like mad to stop them taking my daughter. I wondered what she was feeling now, was she scared? I’ll bet she was–not knowing when or if she’d ever be allowed home again to us.

Would they have allowed her to remain dressed as a girl, would they have made her remove her makeup and nail varnish? Did they realise she now was a girl, would they examine her? I felt myself go cold at these thoughts. I didn’t know where she was so I couldn’t go to her, all I could do was send her my love and hope she’d realise we were doing all we could to get her back. This was nearly as frightening as if she’d been abducted by a stranger. If I got a chance I’d make them pay and dearly.

The phone rang, it was Tom to say he’d be late he had to go to a meeting. I told him what had happened and he wanted to come straight home. I told him he couldn’t do anything and to go to his meeting, we were doing all we could and would tell him of any progress when he got home. He wished us luck and rang off.

When Phoebe and Julie came home they were horrified. Phoebe was doubly so when I told her we’d been to see Neal and how he seemed to have regressed rather than improved. She hugged me and said, “He will get better, won’t he, Mummy?”

I could only say that I hoped so, but things were looking bleak all round. A very harried looking Simon got home at six, a good hour earlier than he usually does. We’d not heard of any progress.

I asked if Hannah had come over and no one had seen her. I phoned Ingrid and she said she saw the social services and they stayed at home locking the door firmly. It transpired she’d had issues with the social worker who came to see me. She’d wanted to take Hannah into care the year before they came to me. She had no belief in them at all other than as family breakers.

Logic told me that social workers did an impossible job and probably did it well most of the time. I’d got off to a bad start with them because of my gender issue and their homophobic tendencies. When I started acquiring gender dysphoric children, they couldn’t understand how or why and saw me as some monster who liked turning susceptible boys into girls. No matter how I tried to explain what was actually happening, they couldn’t or wouldn’t understand and set out to stop me. I’d managed to win each skirmish up until this one, but it appeared I had implacable foes in the department. Simon had tried to set up a meeting with the director, but so far they weren’t playing.

They banked with us but we couldn’t hit them there because they would just move their accounts to somewhere else and we’d lose a good income from them. Life just gets more and more complicated, or seemed so to my little brain.

The younger girls, especially Trish, sought reassurance that they wouldn’t be next to be taken. In the end the only way I could get her to sleep was to lie beside her with my arm around her. I cursed that bloody woman for all the upset she’d caused. I was tempted to ask James to do some digging on her and if he found anything to send it to the Echo. However, despite my anxieties and the discomfort in sharing Trish’s bed, I fell asleep.

The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2253 by Angharad Copyright © 2013 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

---

I slept with Trish until about three in the morning. I needed to wee and by the time I’d been to the loo I was wide awake and decided to get up. I was still fully dressed. I slipped downstairs only to find Simon fast asleep in a chair in the kitchen. I walked behind him and switched on the kettle.

As the kettle began to boil he woke wondering what the noise was. “What are you doing up?” he asked yawning.

“I could ask you the same question,” I said back to him, adding, “Tea?” he nodded and yawned again.

“I saw you’d settled down with Trish and I came down had a glass of beer and must have nodded off.”

“Are you sure you weren’t just guarding the rest of us?”

“Nah, I just fell asleep.”

“I think my idea is far more romantic.”

“Okay, I was guarding you all.”

I made us a mug of tea each and sat down opposite him. “Any word from Jason?”

“He’s got an audience with a judge in the morning.”

“Poor little Danni, I hope she’s okay.”

“Of course she is, she takes after her mother–tough as old boots.”

“If that was a compliment, it was a rather back handed one.”

“You know what I mean, girls are far tougher than boys–we’re all wimps, really.”

I knew that successful trans people were mentally very tough, you have to be to do the complete opposite to everyone else, to swim against the tide like deranged salmon. We are definitely goats as opposed to sheep. However, I didn’t reply to Simon’s comment, I was too lost in my own thoughts.

“Where is she likely to be?” he asked. “In a children’s home or foster care?”

“I have no idea, and they’re hardly likely to tell us.”

“We could ask Sammi to tap their computers.”

“While I want her back here as soon as possible, I suppose we could wait until Jason gets his recission order and we get her back legally.”

Simon looked at me in astonishment. “Okay, we’ll do it properly.”

“What if he can’t over turn it?”

“We try another judge in a higher court.”

“Can we do that? I mean won’t they stop us?”

“That doesn’t sound like you, Cathy.”

“I’m just tired of fighting them all the time.”

He put his hand on mine. “That’s why I’m here, reinforcements to give you some respite.”

I smiled back at him. “Oh no, Batman, we work as a team.”

“Okay, Robin, or is it Batgirl?”

“Depends how you spell Robin, I suppose.”

“Whit are y’twa daein’ up?”asked a very tousled looking professor.

“Drinking tea, want some?”

He nodded, “Aye, a’richt.”

We talked for half an hour or so before Daddy decided to head back to bed and Simon suggested we did the same. I declined, I was too wound up to sleep and instead suggested he take Trish in with him, so when she woke up, she’d see we hadn’t abandoned her.

He plucked her from the bed without her even stirring and laid her in my place in our bed, while he changed into pyjamas at my insistence, I sat with her stroking her hair and speaking quietly to her. I left when he got into bed and she turned over and snuggled into the back of him.

I made some more tea and went into my study and sipping it worried about how Danni was doing. Thinking about how I’d got to David a few days before, I wondered if it would work with Danielle. I finished my tea, went for a wee and then settled down to try and meditate my way into her mind or dreams to let her know we would find her and recover her, however long it took.

I centred down visualising on her image as I did so and chanting softly a mantra of, ‘We love you.’ I have no idea how long it took me to find her, or her dream self. She was crying and wandering on the astrals feeling abandoned.

I spoke to her and she looked at me reproachfully. “You weren’t there, Mummy. You let them take me.”

“I didn’t let them take you, I didn’t know about it. But we won’t rest until we get you back with us. You are my daughter and I won’t stop until we rescue you.”

“I hate it, Mummy. They thought I was a boy until one of them stripped my clothes off. It was horrible.”

“Did they give them back to you?”

“Yes, but I felt so dirty. They saw my fanny, Mummy.”

“Who did, sweetheart?”

“The man in charge of the home.”

“Was he alone?”

“No, some nurse woman was with him.” I wondered if they were doing a medical of some sort. “He was very surprised when he saw I didn’t have a willie no more and that my boobs were growing.”

“Okay, sweetheart, I want you to rest as much as you can and try not to worry. We’ll have you back with us as soon as we possibly can.”

“I’m frightened, Mummy.”

“I know, sweetheart,” I covered her in a strong blue light and she appeared to close her eyes and sleep. “I’ll always be with you and won’t cease until I have you back in my arms again, now rest, my darling girl. I’ll see you soon.”

I woke from my meditation and apart from stiff knees and shoulders I felt quite rested. I recalled what had happened and knew that she was in a children’s home and had been seen by a nurse and the manager. That he had seen her would become a complaint if she remembered it when we did get her back.

I suspected that when she claimed to be a girl they didn’t believe her, even though they should have. That she was post op, seemed to be a surprise, so it’s possible they’re not as organised as I thought. That should make Jason’s job easier. At the same time I suspect a judge will be horrified that a child as young as Danni had gender corrective surgery and that could work against us. Fortunately, Jason knows the whole story so should be able to put them straight on that matter.

As far as I’m concerned, we acted properly with her, giving her space to explore the role without actually encouraging her. In fact, I was probably against it more than Simon, but I’m the one who will be seen as the wicked witch if we ever go to court.

I looked at the clock, it showed seven and although still dark was beginning to brighten. The forecast for the day had been good, rain later but mainly fine during the day. I was tempted to get a bike out, instead I went and made some breakfast and as I finished it, Tom came down made some coffee and drank it and asked if I was coming with him for a walk with the ‘dug’.

I couldn’t think of a better idea, so I did. We went to the cemetery and I held the dog while he tidied the grave and spent a few minutes communing with his family. I thought of Billie and was rewarded with what sounded like a laugh. It was momentary and could just as easily have been a bird or my imagination.

I glanced up at the grave and thought I saw him holding someone’s hand, a child, a young woman. I looked again and it was gone and just Daddy stood there. I wondered for a moment if I was losing my mind, but when he came back to us, he said, “Billie says ye’ve no tae worry, ye’ll win because ye’re in the richt.”

“I saw her holding your hand.”

“Aye, she often does that.”

The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2254 by Angharad Copyright © 2013 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

---

Daddy and I walked the dog back from the cemetery. Had I seen Billie? Daddy seemed to think I had because she was holding his hand, which was what I’d thought I saw. Of course the worry of losing another child could have been playing on my mind, so it would be natural to think of the one I lost especially as her ashes are buried here. Oh how I wished I could turn the clock back and have her home and fit and healthy and with a brother not a sister. I struck me as ironic that I was possibly the person who was most against Danny becoming Danni, yet I’d undergone the process myself because I had to, I’d have died or gone mad if I hadn’t.

I still wasn’t convinced that she was really gender dysphoric–apparently that is the new GID. It’s a term that was eschewed before as being too woolly and replaced with GID, now it’s back. I suppose all these things are cyclic, they come and go and come round again just like fashions. Platform shoes are back in fashion, I don’t particularly like them but it won’t stop Julie and Sammi buying them to strut their stuff.

Thinking of shoes, I thought about how I adapted to the boots Stella gave me that first evening. I still have them, they’ve been resoled and heeled but I won’t give them up, despite their three inch stiletto heels, I find them very comfortable and they have a sentimental value along with the other things she gave me that night, the skirt and top. They were my very first real clothes, until then I’d worn boy things or one or two bits and pieces I’d bought, borrowed or stolen–well I didn’t steal anything, just relocated it from the charity shop bag to the back of my wardrobe. Not that wearing my mother’s clothes was exactly ideal as a teenager. Siá¢n’s were better but obviously she couldn’t lend me those for long and my father used to get so angry when he found out that I had.

When I got my ears pierced, my mother noticed but said nothing to him, she did however tell me to keep the studs hidden by my hair. Given she used to tell him about other things, it always puzzled me that she didn’t tell him about that. After a month or two she told me to only wear the studs when I was away from him because he’d eventually notice them. She even gave me some earrings to wear, gold sleeper rings, which were so fine they hardly showed but they kept the holes open, and I still have them now.

We got back home and Simon asked where I’d been. Then he saw Daddy and Kiki and decided I’d been out for a walk with them, which was correct. I didn’t tell him where we’d been or what we’d seen.

Trish rushed up to me and hugged me so tight I thought she was trying to crush me. “Don’t leave me, Mummy,” she said bursting into tears. If I had a chance to tell that stupid woman the distress she’d caused, I would certainly do so and how.

“I won’t, nor will I let anyone take you from us. Jason is going to speak to a judge to try and get them to return Danni.”

She seemed to accept this and while I had some tea and toast she busied herself on her computer. The others didn’t seem so worried about being taken into care, but then, none of them had experienced it before, just her and Danni, and of course, Billie.

A little later Trish who had disappeared, reappeared holding her mobile phone. “Can the judge man speak to you, Mummy?”

“What, darling?”

“The judge man.”

“Hello?”I said into the phone.

“Ah, Miss Watts, how nice to talk to you again,” said an educated and mellifluous man’s voice.

“I’m sorry, you have the advantage.”

“I see, didn’t Trish say who I was?”

“Not really.”

“It’s Roger Kenyon, Justice Kenyon.”

“Oh, I’m sorry I didn’t recognize your voice.”

“It seems you have problems with social services again.”

“Yes, they’ve taken one of my children away.”

“I see, please be at my chambers at ten thirty.”

“Ten thirty this morning, m’lud?”

“Yes, if was another day I’d have said so.”

I looked at the clock, it was nine fifteen. I could just about do it.”

“I’ll be there, m’lud.”

“And bring that delightful little girl with you.”

“Trish?”

“Yes, Trish.” He rang off.

“What have you done now?” I said accusingly to Trish.

“I told the judge man that they’d taken my sister and asked him to help.”

“Bloody hell,” slipped out before I could stop it. I almost added, You’ll get me shot, but decided she had enough stress at the moment.

“What was all that about?” asked Simon.

“Trish just called the judge who awarded her custody to us.”

“Kenyon or whatever his name was.”

“The same, he’s expecting Trish and I at half past ten at his chambers. If you’re coming you’ll need to change.”

He gave a bemused snort and followed me up the stairs. I showered and dried my hair as Trish did the same and then Simon brought up the rear. Tom agreed to supervise the kids as we hurriedly dressed and dashed out to the car–my car. I let Simon drive as I finished my makeup in the car.

He managed to park near the courts and we walked together to meet our destiny. I wasn’t aware what Trish had told the judge and she couldn’t remember enough to tell us. We were admitted by a court security man who was watching for us. Trish held on to both our hands like a vice, only letting go to allow me to knock on the door of the chambers. When I came out of this door the previous time I was very pleased with the outcome, I hoped the same would happen today.

Simon had spoken briefly with Jason, who told him to go for it, and if it went wrong to tell him immediately and he’d continue to press for a recission order from a high court judge in London.

My tummy was tied in knots as we entered the judge’s lodgings. He was seated at his desk upon which was a laptop computer. “I believe I should address you as Lady Cameron, forgive my oversight earlier.”

“M’lud, if you can help me get my child back, you can call me anything you wish.”

“I think we’ll stick with Lady Cameron,” he said and sat back down at his desk inviting us to sit the other side.

At his bidding I explained what had happened to Danny, including the assault in France, his sudden desire to act like a girl and the lead up to his mutilation by Pia and then removal by social services. I explained about the visit regarding my fostering of Lizzie and Neal’s unfortunate breakdown. I also told him that we’d gone to see Neal when they came and took Danielle.

He made copious notes and asked questions for clarification. Then he asked us to leave and return in two hours, so he could think about the case. We left with butterflies the size of king condors circling inside our tummies.

Simon suggested we went for a walk. I was still in a state of numbness and agreed if someone else was happy to make a decision. We ended up in a café where I drank a cup of latte coffee while Trish wolfed down a knickerbocker glory and Simon had an espresso.

An hour and a half later, I repaired my makeup after throwing up the coffee and anything else in my stomach before we headed back to the courts.

The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2255 by Angharad Copyright © 2013 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

---

We’d left the judge to contemplate the order which had resulted in social services taking Danielle into care. In my mind, the whole thing was a set up and they had no grounds for removing her from my care.

We trouped back to the judge’s chambers to see what he thought having given him a couple of hours to make a decision. The same security man let us in and we knocked on the door of the judge’s rooms. ‘Enter,’ was called and Simon opened the door and we went in, sitting where we’d been before.

Judges are very powerful people, they are also reputed to be very clever and wise. All of these things appeared to apply to Roger Kenyon, especially if you included charming in the description–though I’m sure some who sat in the dock might not have thought so.

“Lady Cameron, I’m going to rescind the order to seize Danielle, and I’m going to insist they return her to your care as her adopted mother as quickly as possible. Quite how she feels I honestly don’t know, but I suspect she’s a very anxious young lady and I’d like to resolve this as soon as we can.

“I said I didn’t know how she felt, I know how you all feel because you’ve told me, and I believe you are perfectly entitled to feel that way. I am disappointed because I feel social services have let themselves down as well as apparently targeting you and your family. I am aware of several incidents which seem to imply that someone quite senior is trying to cause you problems. I have therefore sent for the director and he should be here in a short while.

“I am aware that the children you have adopted have all got problems with histories of abuse and being taken into care. I’m also aware that you gave a home to a young woman who suffered as a result of the law being perverted by both police and the custodial services. I’m aware that you have a reputation for being difficult, impetuous but courageous and not being prepared to walk past on the other side when you see someone in distress. I am therefore going to issue instruction to the director to ensure you’re left in peace unless something new and substantially wrong comes to light which requires them to act. I trust you’ll remain as good parents as you have to now.

“As for you, young lady,” he addressed Trish. “How you got my phone number, I’ll never know…”

“It was easy, Mr Judge, I went on the internet and…”

“I think it might be better that I don’t know.” I managed to shut Trish up before she got us all incarcerated. “You should have a brilliant future before you, and I look forward to seeing reports of you going to Oxford or Cambridge and doing something special.

“I think that concludes our meeting.”

We shook hands and I thanked him. Simon had talked about sending him a case of his favourite tipple but I told him not to, as it could be seen as bribery. He argued that the old man would be destroying the evidence anyway, but I stopped him.

I let the others walk on a little and then turned and spoke to Mr Kenyon. “You know you have a growth in your left lung.”

“How did you know that?”

“I have a way of seeing these things.”

“A lifetime of smoking, I’m afraid.”

“If you stop smoking now, it will go.”

“If you were able to guarantee that, I might.”

“If I did guarantee it, would you?”

“I don’t believe you can.”

“Believe, because I can and have.”

“What? But that’s impossible.”

“To an open mind all things are possible.”

“Just what are you, Lady Cameron?”

“Someone who tries to help those who deserve it.”

“I believe you are. You’re this mystery healer, aren’t you?”

“That would be telling, but if you stop smoking, the tumour will disappear.”

“And you can guarantee that?”

“I just told you, I asked it to go. Provided you stop smoking it will not recur.”

“Aren’t you playing God?”

“No, I’m returning your body to a default position which it would have achieved had you not smoked.”

“My breathing feels easier already. I’ll stop the cigars. I hope this isn’t because I got your child back for you?”

“No, it’s to try and keep you providing justice and guidance to all those who come before you. We need people like you to try and balance those who upset things.”

“Very well, I won’t see it as trying to influence a decision.”

“You’d already made your decision, I wasn’t rewarding it, just helping you because I can.”

“Just how did you know about it?”

“We shook hands and I knew instantly.”

“And cured me?”

“Yes.”

“Remarkable.”

I smiled and left catching up Simon and Trish as they got to the car.

“Where have you been, Mummy?”

“I wanted to discuss something with Mr Kenyon.”

“Not me goin’ to Oxford or Cambridge, was it?”

“No, it was totally unrelated to anything we’d spoken of before.”

“Did you make him better?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“He had a thing in his lung, didn’t he?”

“How did you know that?”

“I saw it, like a black blob in his lung.”

“You saw that?”

“Yeah, didn’t you?” She chuckled knowing full well that I had and dealt with it. Now I had the prospect of dealing with a smart arse who was catching me up in other areas as well as intellectually. Simon stood and watched us shaking his head and muttering something about broomsticks.

It was tea time when a police car came up the drive and I saw Andy Bond walk from it with Danielle. I rushed out and hugged her and she burst into tears. “Oh, Mummy, it was horrible, they tried to prove I was a boy and they wouldn’t listen.”

“I know sweetheart.” I hugged her and Andy stayed a few yards back to give us a little space.

“You coming in for a cuppa?”I asked him.

“Nah, I’ll get back to the station, enjoy your reunion.”

“We will,” I replied with tears running down my face.

“C’mon kiddo, let’s go and see the rest.”

“Can I have a shower and will you do my hair for me?”

“Of course I will.”

“I want to get out of these clothes too.” She wore a pair of boys jeans and sweatshirt with a hood. Somehow she’d managed to retain her bra and panties and her shoes–some pink and white Reeboks. I have a pair virtually the same.

I took her upstairs and sent the others away until she’d had her shower. Trish felt quite disgruntled seeing as she was of the opinion that she’d got her back for us. She probably had but if I agreed with her, we’d never hear the end of it.

After Danni had showered and dressed, I combed out her hair and styled it for her. She could have done it herself but I think she enjoyed having me do it for her. She did her makeup and repainted her nails, then we went down to see the others.

“The director of social services phoned, he’d like you to meet him at his office on Monday.”

“No way.”

“What?”

“If he has anything to say to me, he can come to me. I’m not the one at fault, so he can do the travelling.”

“He’s not going to like that.”

“Tough tittie.” I replied and he fell about laughing.