Wuthering Dormice (aka Bike) Part 557 by Angharad

Are children like cats, who are supposed to know when you are sick or down, and come and comfort you. I was very tired after the drama of the day before and just wanted to sleep. I felt two little bodies in bed with me, but they stayed still and I slept a while longer. Eventually their fidgeting began to wake me, but it was the phone that finished the job.

“Hewo, I’s Mima, who’s you?”

I took the phone from the eager beaver who’d been lying alongside me a moment ago. “Hello?”

“Mrs Watts?”

“Yes, who is that?”

“It’s John Jackson from the Echo.”

“I don’t think I have anything to say to you, Mr Jackson.”

“Please, you spoke to the BBC, so why not speak to us? We are a local paper after all.”

“I really am, very busy.”

“Please, five minutes will do plus a photo, pretty please.”

“What about the children’s home?”

“Two hundred, if you let us have a photo as well.”

“Two fifty.”

“You drive a hard bargain, Cathy, but okay, what time?”

“Eleven?”

“You couldn’t make it ten, could you?”

“I have two children to sort out.”

“Yeah, but we have two editions to sort out, and we could still make the earlies.”

“Half past.”

“Okay, see you then.” I put the phone down and muttered, ‘Yeah, I can’t wait.’

“It was half past eight and I showered all three of us at once. Trish, who hadn’t experienced the group soaking before thought it was wonderful, and couldn’t keep her eyes off my boobs and pubes.

“Will I be like that when I grow up, Mummy?”

“Like what?”

“You know, have boobies and a slit?”

“If that’s what you want.”

“I’ve got one aweady,” bragged Mima.

“Yeah, lucky you.”

“Wucky me,” echoed Mima and she giggled.

“Will I really look like you?”

“That I doubt, because we aren’t related, but there’s no reason you can’t look like an adult female with the right sort of treatment. If it’s what you want.”

“It is, Mummy.”

“Well if it is still your ambition in a few years, we’ll start to do something about it. Just be thankful, the school is able to take you.”

“Oh I am, Mummy. It’s going to be such fun.”

“I hope so.” For what it’s going to cost me.

I dried and clothed the three of us, I thought I’d better look a bit tidy for seeing the press, especially as they were going to take my photo. I decided any mention of my previous persona would be stonewalled, and they could make what they wanted to of it. I would sue if they defamed me.

After breakfast, I put on a the bread machine and also got the laundry underway. It was nearly ten, and I tidied up my hair and did some makeup. Trish had followed me, wanting to borrow a pair of my shoes–she opted for the boots I’d worn yesterday and a pashmina. “Can I have some makeup on?” She begged me.

I put some lipstick on her, a touch of blush and a tiny smear of eyeshadow. I waited at my vanity, knowing the clomping of little hoofbeats would follow. It did and Mima borrowed another pair of my boots, this time a shorter pair and a scarf and waited for me to apply her makeup. I thought a children’s makeup set would be a useful present.

I had just come downstairs, and had warned the girls to stay put in the dining room, when the doorbell rang. It was Jackson, he was early. As the sun was shining, they took my picture standing against the front of the house.

I took them into the dining room and made some coffees. I asked the photographer not to take any more pictures, and because I’d cooperated, he nodded and put his camera away.

John Jackson thankfully kept to the local story, I agreed when he suggested the BBC had done the historical stuff, his readers were more interested in the here and now. So we talked about the rescue and he was quite straightforward in his questioning. So I was able to keep reasonable control over the interview. He asked about the award and I couldn’t say anything about it, because I knew nothing about it. I also suggested that it hadn’t been awarded yet and not to count his chickens.

They were just leaving when a young woman stepped out of a small van, she went around to the back and produced a huge bouquet of flowers. It was from Sir Malcolm and the photographer got one of me accepting it. The girls could help me arrange it later.

The laundry was dry enough to hang out on the line, which is what I did, until I saw someone peeping over the fence with a telephoto lens. I went back in and came out wearing a scarf and sun glasses. I was so swaddled, no one would be able to tell who I was. I finished hanging out the washing. Kiki barked at someone else and went flying down the garden, I saw a body heave itself over the fence with the guard dog in hot pursuit. She came back snorting and woofing occasionally.

The phone rang and it was the local radio station, they asked if I’d do a quick interview with them. I told them I would over the phone, they accepted. Again it was fairly benign, they only wanted a quick sound-bite, which they got. How celebrities cope, I had no idea, I felt irritated.

After lunch, I made some more soup–it’s wholesome and quick, with fresh bread, I took the girls to see Tom. He’d seen the piece on the telly and thought it went well. I told him about my departure from the party and he smiled. “Simon stayed, did he?”

“Yes, how did you know?”

“An educated guess.”

Trish and Mima sat and ate a little bunch of grapes each while we talked, then Tom read them a story, or pretended he was, he was actually making it up as he went along, pretending to read his menu card. The girls loved it. He said they looked very grown up in their makeup–they wouldn’t take it off, though thankfully, they did wear their own shoes.

I took his dirty pyjamas and gave him some clean ones, plus underwear and some top clothes. He was sitting by his bed in his ordinary clothes. While we were there, the ward sister came up and told me he was being discharged the next day, could I arrange to collect him after ten? I had no plans for the next day, so I agreed.

“I won’t be sorry to get out of this place, they’re all sick,” said Tom when she’d gone.

“So were you when you came in.”

“That was weeks ago.”

“It was about ten days ago, Daddy, that’s all.”

“I see you got a mention in the Guardian.”

“Who did?”

“You, haven’t you seen it?”

“Haven’t had time, I had to get Barbie and Cindy ready.” He smirked at my comment and smiled at them, they’d just finished their grapes. Then they were drinking his orange squash, honestly, they were like a plague of locusts.

The man across the bay, called them over and gave them some sweeties each. Then the one next to him gave them a pound coin each. They came back feeling quite successful. I thanked the men who just waved.

“Have ye been shining ma desk, every day?”

The two girls looked at each other, “Um, not exactly,” said Trish, “we’ve been rather busy avoiding the press, Gramps.”

“Oh, alright then, but you’d better do it tonight if you want some pocket money, because I shall be inspecting it tomorrow.”

“Yes, Gramps, we will.” I was hoping they’d all forgotten, I had enough to do without looking after that as well.

“I wanna go wee wee, Mummy.”

“So do I, Mummy.”

I had the fun of pleading with the nurse to allow me to use the ward toilet instead of going down to the ground floor. What joy this parenthood business.