The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike) Part 1711 by Angharad Copyright © 2012 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

I spent two hours working on my survey project and even managed to plan my dissertation. I had to get it right for several reasons, not least, that it was the major contribution to my fud, as Trish calls it, the rest of the world will recognise it better as a PhD. Next in importance, is the fact that the conservation of mammals will be greatly influenced in both Britain and Europe, by my conclusions, and Tom thinks the Department, ie Defra are waiting to see what I churn out. Somehow with their proposed policies of culling badgers and destroying buzzard nests to protect pheasants for the shooting fraternity–I suspect we might be in conflict.

It’s no secret that I despise killing for sport: for the pot is acceptable, although I doubt I’d do it until I got very hungry. I’ve always been squeamish about killing things unless they are a direct threat to me and mine–somehow pheasants never quite entered that category.

I had just finished at eleven o’clock, Si had mentioned he wanted to watch the sport channel with Danny after he’d put the girls to bed. I’d asked him to send Danny up at ten, but they’re probably both asleep on the sofa. I thought I’d better go and check.

I stood up and stretched, bending over a computer for a couple of hours tends to make your back ache. I turned to open the door of my study when it burst open and Julie said, “Ta da...” She stepped to one side and there behind her stood a very nervous Sam.

“Come in, let me see,” I urged her, and Julie almost dragged in her diffident protégé to the middle of the room. Sam looked amazing and I told her so. Julie had kept it restrained, she’d trimmed her hair and used minimal makeup to enhance Sam’s delicate features. She was dressed in a skirt and top which I think Julie bought last year in Top Shop, so they were good quality.

I asked her to twirl and she did. She was smiling like someone who’d just won the lottery or perhaps found someone who accepted her for what she felt she was. It was lovely to see her so happy and to feel the excitement in her being. I took several photos, which I downloaded immediately onto the computer, calling her to come and see.

“I can’t believe that I look so good, thank you both so much,” she said before bursting into tears. I opened my arms and she fell into them sobbing on my shoulder, Julie looked a little bewildered and I mouthed the word, ‘tea’ at her and she disappeared.

I held her for probably ten minutes as she poured out some of the pain she’d felt over the years–I recognised so much of it, but at this stage I felt I didn’t need to share it with her.

Finally, we moved to the sofa and had just seated ourselves when Julie arrived with the tea. While I poured it out, Julie repaired Sam’s makeup.

“I don’t want this night to end,” she said sniffing back a tear, “I’m just so happy.”

“I’m afraid it has to, nothing lasts forever, which is just as well because it could apply to bad things as well as good. However, I suspect you aren’t too unhappy about coming tonight.”

“Cathy, when I got off the bus and saw the size of the place, and realised it was one house, not several or even flats, I nearly turned and fled. This is so different to my world.”

“No it isn’t, it’s just wealthier–I didn’t grow up in it, neither did any of the children until we adopted them.”

“So it’s not your ancestral pile then?”

“Good lord, no. It’s my adopted father’s originally, although we’ve added a significant chunk with the new wing.”

“Dad’s spent loads on it, hasn’t he?” offered Julie who was holding out her cup for a refill.

“He spent some, I spent more than he did and your gramps shared some of the cost as well.”

“What’s this place worth?” asked Sam her eyes widening.

“For insurance purposes, we got it valued at a couple of million plus.” I was pretty sure that was the figure.

“Two million?” gasped Sam.

“That’s nothing,” smirked Julie, “my other grandfather has a castle in Scotland.”

“You’re joking?”

“She’s not, my father in law is a Viscount.”

“I thought that guy in the restaurant called you lady, but I couldn’t quite make it out, so I assumed I’d misheard him. I mean how many titled ladies teach in a university?”

“I’ve no idea,” I replied, “does it matter–I mean I don’t teach as Lady Cameron.”

“Cameron? No relation to the Prime Minister?”

“Possibly about two hundred years ago, but no.”

“Ooh, thank goodness for that, can’t stand him.”

“No but in some ways he’s quite a libertarian–he supports rights for minority groups and things like same sex marriage, so he can’t be all bad.”

“Hmm, I dunno, I don’t trust him. You’re not related to the bank people are you?”

“Why, they calling in your overdraft?”

“Yeah,” Sam smiled and her whole face lit up, “No, I don’t bank with them.”

“Pity, you’da seen Mummy in there.”

“I don’t follow,” Sam shook her head at Julie’s comment.

“She’s on a load of posters with Spike her dormouse sponsored by the bank.”

“Gosh, you got a bank to sponsor you?”

“Yes, they’ve sponsored several conservation projects.”

“Helps if your pa in law owns the bank, mind,” smirked Julie.

“Simon’s father owns High St Bank?”

“Plc, don’t forget the plc,” chimed Julie.

“But he’s a billionaire?” Sam seemed bemused by the fact.

“Yeah, so? He’s also a nice guy, isn’t he, Mummy?”

“He is as far as you’re concerned, you twist him round your little finger, so do the others.”

“Wow, I feel a bit sick, excuse me...” Sam jumped up and rushed down to the cloakroom with Julie close behind her.

“She alright?” asked Jacquie who was just going up to bed.

“Yeah, just a bit overwhelmed.”

“She’s quite pretty, isn’t she?”

“Jacquie, she’s beautiful, all we have to do is help her believe it.”

“Hark who’s talking,” said Simon peering out from the lounge to see what the excitement was all about.

I blushed, “That’s different,” I huffed and he laughed out loud before returning to his television programme.

“Did you have a problem with accepting your own beauty, Mummy?” asked Jacquie.

“No, I know I’m not beautiful, just vaguely attractive,” I replied.

“I think you might be selling yourself short, Mummy, I think you’re beautiful anyway.”

“Sorry about that,” offered Sam as she came out of the loo, “nerves I think.”

“Probably,” I put my arm round her, “feel better now?”

“Yeah, just very tired, I’d better change and go back to my room.”

“You can stay here tonight. Julie, go and make up the spare room for Sam, will you?”

She nodded and slipped upstairs.

“Come with me, I’ll find you a spare nightie and toothbrush,” I led Sam upstairs to the bathroom.