Wuthering Dormice (aka Bike) Part 960 by Angharad Copyright © 2010 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

The following day, I took five children to see some dormice–except they were all asleep still. I did handle one or two for them to actually see and touch, then I left them to Neal’s tender mercies. It’ll be good practice for when he and Gloria have babies. His face was a picture. Then when he powered up his computer, I knew he was going to youtube. I went to the Dean’s office, or to be more precise, his secretary’s office.

I retrieved the bunch of flowers from the car and knocked on Marjorie’s door. I was suddenly overcome by a fit of giggles when I thought of the nursery rhyme, Seesaw Marjorie Daw, Johnnie shall have a new master. I was still in this idiotic phase when she called me to come in. It took me a moment to control myself.

“Something funny, Lady Cameron?”

“Only the electrical discharges in my brain which pass for thoughts.”

“I see, you had a funny thought?”

“Yes, I just deposited five of my six kids on Neal for a few minutes while I popped up here to see you. The look on his face.”

“Yes, I’m sure–“ she chuckled.

“Oh, these are for you.” I handed her the flowers.

“That’s very kind of you, is there a reason?”

“Just a gift and a thank you for your handling of yesterday’s funeral.”

“Shouldn’t I be giving you a gift, after all it was my granddaughter who died, and you did do us all a favour with your poem.”

“I’m glad it met the occasion.”

“It did, and so did you–what a difference with your jeans and sweatshirt compared to yesterday’s suit and hat.”

“It wasn’t over the top was it?”

“No, it was perfect and I know Mitzi would have been delighted to have seen it. You cut quite a dash, Lady Cameron.”

“You were suitably elegant yourself, Mrs Perkins.”

“Thank you. If you don’t mind, I have work to do and I’m sure Neal needs rescuing from your brood.”

“Of course–I’m really sorry you lost Mitzi. I’d like to have known her.”

“You would have liked her, although she wasn’t as female looking as you, you really are remarkably good aren’t you?”

“Am I? I don’t think about it,” I lied.

“Cathy Watts, even in her short time before her transition, looked quite feminine–I presume that was why you did the bike riding?”

“If it was it didn’t work–I wasn’t good enough to race with the men’s team.”

She looked at me as if I was stupid, “Wasn’t that always going to be obvious–you’re a female, they lack the musculature and strength, men are always going to win on those terms.”

“According to my legal status–I was a man.”

“Stuff and nonsense, if you were then there was something very wrong with your hormones. I’ve never seen someone who transitioned in their twenties develop hips like yours.”

“I don’t think I ever actually went through puberty–least, not when everyone else did. In those days, although I knew I should have been a girl, if my body had changed like the rest of the boys, I wouldn’t have been teased quite as much.”

“Ah, but to your great good fortune it didn’t, and you grew up a woman.”

“It would seem that way. I’d better go and rescue Neal.”

“Yes, oh and, Cathy?”

“Yes, Marjorie,” I reciprocated her dropping of formal address.

“Nobody was any the wiser yesterday.”

“It’s not important, is it?”

“It’s important enough to bring you into the university to check though, isn’t it?”

Damn, am I that transparent? I shrugged, “No, I came to speak to you and see how you were.”

“You always were a poor liar, Catherine Watts. Off you go.” She winked at me as I left.

The children were collected, none had been fed to the dormice to boost their protein levels, so I took them–the children, not the dormice, they were still hibernating–do pay attention–for some pizza and ice cream. For them, almost the ultimate treat.

After that, seeing as it was a fine day, I took them out to the coast and we had a walk along the shoreline looking for interesting things which get washed up and animals and birds we might see. I keep a pair of small binoculars in the car and we saw a few oystercatchers and other waders. The two boys were more interested than the girls, which wasn’t entirely surprising–more men than women bird-watch–I just happen to be in a minority–nothing new there then.

Back to the house and dinner–I cooked chicken thighs in a casserole. it went down quite well, as did the yoghurts afterwards. Fresh air seemed to give them an appetite. Julie said she was quite happy at home with Stella and Puddin’ and they’d gone for a walk themselves with the baby in the push chair. She enjoyed her chicken too, Puddin’ that is. I liquidise some of it, and chop the meat very fine and she laps it up–well not literally, she’s not a kitten, oh forget it.

The rest of the week saw me trying to organise the house, the children and Maureen, who began to do a detailed costing of the parts we needed to do one or two jobs. She considered she had enough contacts to be able to get some of the supplies at wholesale prices–I just told her not to do anything illegal, because of the position of Simon and Tom, and of course, myself. She smiled and said, “Don’t worry, I won’t be doing anything to embarrass you.”

“Won’t most of your contacts be used to dealing with your previous persona?”

“Ma’am, I don’t look that much different, do I?”

“I don’t know, do I–I didn’t know you before.”

“No, ma’am, by the way, that poem was just right for poor ol’ Mitzi.”

“Thank you, Maureen, I’m glad it seemed apposite.”

“Opposite? Nah it was perfect.”

“No, Maureen, apposite–fitting, appropriate.”

“Oh, I misheard you, ma’am, I thought you said, opposite.”

I left her to measure up some more lengths of wood and so on. I’d reminded Tom she would be there and he told me to let him know how much. He gave me access to a thousand pounds, which I gulped and matched for funding for Maureen’s time and materials. I asked her to complete a simple time sheet–not to check up on her but to make sure she wasn’t underpaid.

By the end of that week, her efforts were starting to take shape when Julie was persuaded to let her get on with things, instead of talking. As I needed help with the house, I did have grounds for asking her to lend a hand–besides which, Simon is paying her.

The salon asked her to go in on the Friday as well as the Saturday, which meant me taking and collecting her both days. Their trainee was apparently off sick, so she was doing shampooing as well as cleaning up the mess–she thought it was good fun. I reminded her to use a good hand cream, as shampoos can dry the skin quite a lot.

On the Thursday before she did the two days at the salon, I was taking out some coffee for Maureen, when I overheard them chatting.

“Your mother is gorgeous, isn’t she?”

“I suppose so, I don’t like, think of her in those terms.”

“Nah, I s’pose not–but I think she’s amazing.”

“Oh she’s that alright. Have you noticed that any aches and pains you have when she’s around, just disappear?”

“I ‘adn’t thought about it, but yeah, now you come to mention it, my shoulders used to play up somethink rotten, now they seem easier. Why’s that? Am I distracted by her beauty?”

“Possibly,” Julie allowed, “but Trish an’ me, we think she’s really an angel.” I blushed when I heard this.

“I think you’re probably right, girl, she’s been a Godsend to me any rate.”

At this point I pretended to have only just arrived with the coffee–thank goodness I cover the mug with one of the plastic lids off a Pringle’s tube, or the coffee would have been cold. I’d have to ask Julie not to drop me in it re the healing I do occasionally. Why is life so complicated–or is it just mine?