Wuthering Dormice (aka Bike) Part 831 by Angharad

I did sleep, I was pretty tired, so despite my paranoia, my eyes shut by themselves and my body went into slumber mode. I didn’t sleep, I practically died until the next morning when three little aliens bounced all over me, squealing , “Happy Birthday.” I gave up the contest and was rewarded with three smiling faces each with a card they had made in school the day before. Then before I was quite upright, they produced a box, wrapped in fancy paper which they practically pushed down my throat.

In the end it seemed better to let them open it for me, although the silver and gold paper was shredded beyond any recycling use by three sets of weenie-raptor claws. Moments, and a pile shredded gift wrap later, I was presented with my present–yeah okay, being awakened early doesn’t do my vocabulary much good, something to do with still being asleep despite the open eyes.

It appeared I had a new cycling helmet. I wasn’t aware I needed one, but it was more use than a subscription to Penthouse. I thanked my three angels, and we had a quick hug and a kiss, then it was in the shower and dried and dressed for school.

There was something going on between them and Simon which fed my recurrent paranoia–what were they up to? In fact everyone seemed up to no good today. Tom had a strange look on his face, Henry–yes he was still with us–looked positively conspiratorial, and Stella–she was probably the ringleader.

The closest I got to finding up what was going on was Simon telling me that I didn’t need to make the girls any lunch–he was treating us all to lunch, to celebrate my birthday.

“Do I get any say where?”

“Nope, it’s all arranged. I want you to wear something really nice–Monica is coming down to take Dad back with her, and I want her to feel in awe of your wondrous beauty.”

“Ha ha, now where are we going, and why can’t I wear jeans?”

“We’re going somewhere a bit more upmarket than that, haven’t you got a nice suit or dress you can wear?”

“Normally, you don’t care what I wear.”

“Well I do today, okay, they know Dad and I through the bank–I’d like to maintain the illusion we’re doing okay.”

“Why didn’t you say this before?”

“I dunno–I thought I’d give you the run around first.”

“So what are you going to wear?”

“My suit, the charcoal pinstripe.”

“Wow, we are upmarket places.” This was suit that had cost Simon over two thousand pounds. I nearly fainted when he told me. Since then it had been wrapped in one of those plastic clothes’ covers and hung in his wardrobe. I’d never seen him wear it. This place must be special.

“Yeah, like I said, we want to impress, and we may be doing a little bit of biz while we’re there.”

“You cheapskate, fancy using my birthday lunch to get work–couldn’t it wait until later?”

“Maybe, but this will oil the wheels somewhat.”

I sighed and grabbed the kids and took them to school, I thanked them again for my lovely present and cards. It appeared as well that Stella was going to collect the girls and bring them to the meal.

“This is all getting silly,” I huffed and puffed to myself, “I could have just as easily got a leg of Welsh lamb and made a roast dinner for everyone.” But they all seemed in on this luncheon and I felt outvoted. If Simon was hoping for something special in bed tonight–he was gonna be unlucky, unless my mood changed somewhat.

When I got home, Stella dragged me into the bathroom and began tidying up my hair, increasing the blondeness of it with more highlights and restyling it. It looked really nice, but it was a bit much just for bloody lunch and I said so.

“It’s part of my prezzie to you.”

“Oh, well couldn’t we have done it another day, my hair wasn’t that bad, was it?” She seemed to nod that it was, I felt rather upset. I opened my other cards–the ones the Royal Mail deigned to deliver at eleven o’clock.

“Come on, you need to get ready.” She hassled me until I did my makeup and nails.

“Why all this fuss? What is no one telling me?”

“Simon’s doing you a presentation at the lunch.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“He’s got you something really nice for your birthday.”

“Why can’t he give it to me here?”

“Um–he can’t.”

“It can’t be a car, I’ve just got a new one, so what is it?”

“I can’t tell you.”

“Why can’t you?”

“I don’t know exactly what it is.”

“So how do you know we need to wear our Sunday best and have our hair just so?”

“Because he asked me to do it for you.”

“What if I don’t go?”

“I think he’d be pretty peed.”

“It would serve him right, wouldn’t it?”

“Yeah, but he really thinks it’s something you’d like, that you’d really like.”

“I can’t think of anything I’d really like that I haven’t already got, except maybe the formal adoption of the children. He couldn’t have organised that because that’s something I’d have to do.”

“Well I don’t know about that, but he is absolutely sure that you’ll enjoy it.”

“So what shall I wear?”

“This,” Stella produced a beautiful green dress. “It’s the other part of your present.”

“What? It’s beautiful, Stella.”

“It’s a Stella McCartney, I know her enough to get her to design something special for me–or in this case you.”

“But–,“I was speechless, “It must have cost a fortune.”

“Simon and Daddy helped a bit towards it.”

“So what is going on? Is someone special going to be there?”

“Sort of, you know that film you made?”

“Yeah, the dormouse one?”

“Yeah, who would you like to impress with it?”

“Not Sir David Attenborough?”

“Put the dress on, I did check you’ve got some nice patent courts to go with it.” She lifted the dress over my head. It was thick silk, with an embossed design in the material and the most exquisite bead and lace design around the plunging vee neckline.

“I’m going to be cold in this.”

“No you won’t put your pashmina on.”

I pulled on the tights and slipped on the shoes, it did look lovely, the dress I mean. The three quarter sleeves, and the neck wasn’t quite as deep as I thought, although it did show more cleavage than I usually did. I was hoping I didn’t impress him–Sir David–into a heart attack. Henry could be a casualty as well, randy old sod he is.

I wore some jade and gold jewellery and of course my engagement ring, together with a gold bangle and my gold watch. The pashmina would almost keep me warm, I just hoped the car was warm before and after the meal.

“Why can’t I go and get the girls?”

“Because I am, now go and sit down and wait until Simon or Tom comes to get you.”

“Tom? Why can’t Simon?”

“He’s got to organise this presentation thingy, I think. Anyway, Tom is a safer driver.”

“If this is a wind up, Stella, I’m going to throw a wobbly the size of a ten on the Richter scale.”

“I have to go,” Stella said and disappeared in a puff of smoke–actually she didn’t but if she messed me about, she would the next time I saw her.

I was left to my own devices, but not for very long as Tom arrived in Henry’s car. I was by now so confused, that I collected my little patent handbag, threw my shawl around my shoulders and got into the car, which fortunately was warm inside.

“Daddy, what is going on?”

“Och, it’s Simon, he wants tae impress ye.”

“If he’s got Sir David Attenborough to come, I am impressed.”

“Oh he’s the bigwig is he, I wisnae telt.”

“Where is this place?”

“Oh I ken waur it is, alricht, ye jes sit still an’ dinna disturb me.”

He then proceeded to drive me around for nearly an hour before we drove into what seemed like a church area?

“I thought we were going to lunch?”

“Aye we are, efter we’ve been tae a blessing.”

“A blessing? I don’t believe that stuff Daddy.”

“Aye but apparently Sir David does.”

“No he doesn’t–I’ve heard him talk about it.”

Despite my protests Tom almost bundled me into the church

“This had better be worth it Simon, or you’re dead meat tonight,” I muttered under my breath. We entered the church which seemed to be almost in darkness and suddenly the lights all came on, the three girls all wearing new dresses came rushing out to greet me, Tom stuck his arm through mine and the organ struck up the Bridal March...