Wuthering Dormice (aka Bike) Part 609 by Angharad

The rest of Thursday was fine, the kids enjoyed their ice cream, and, it being fine, we went out for a walk taking Kiki with us. Then after tea, Tom read the girls some stories while I cleared up in the kitchen. Simon was still unobtainable and I began to feel slightly paranoid.

I discussed my experience of Karen with Tom, he said Trish had liked her, or so she had told him. Oh well, some things were okay then. I went to bed and had difficulty sleeping again. At one point I got up and sent Simon an email.

“Dearest Simon,

Cathy.
Xxxxxxx”

Of course, after I’d sent it, I felt a complete idiot. It was neurotic and pathetic, not my usual style, but I felt incredibly vulnerable. Was I boring him? I thought our sex was okay, maybe it wasn’t? Oh shit, I worried myself silly. Perhaps he was with some dominant woman who spanked him or worse–I blushed simply thinking about it. Maybe he spanked her–well if he thinks he’s doing that to me…

I made a cuppa and took it back to bed, and read some more of the man-eating dormice. I was pleased to discover they weren’t really dormice, but when the mother ship had looked for specimens of Earth, they had captured a few dormice and then their entire army of invasion had been transformed into dormice. Their first problem was planning to attack in darkness–okay that bit was fine–but in January? No self respecting dormeese would be doing anything but hibernating. The other problem was not realising that humans kept cats. Well, okay, they had lots of problems, not realising there were humans in the first place, then that they kept cats. So within a few weeks the invasion was all over–end of story. I put the book down thinking how much better I could have written it. It had made me laugh, not intentionally, it was just so badly done, it verged on absurdity much of the time.

The author had never seen a dormouse, he described their ability to strip the flesh off the bone in moments. Okay, they will eat insects and other invertebrates given a chance–high in protein–but mostly feed on berries and nuts, plus buds and new leaves, little bit of bark and whatever they can get their paws on. Even old stagers like Spike, couldn’t kill and eat anything bigger than a moth.

I made a mental note to go and see Spike and the other ‘killer’ dormice. I missed having her around but with babies she was better off with the others. She must be three years old now, with luck she could live for another three or four years, as dormice can make seven. In a laboratory, she might even live longer away from parasites and predators, and full of high quality food. Part of me longed to get back to my work.

I went in to see the two dormice I have at home. They were both fast asleep although the larger one had wriggled enough to have more duvet on the floor than the bed. I hastily covered her up. I felt so proud of both my little angels, they were such lovely children, I hoped if they were still with me, that they’d be lovely teenagers.

Then as I got back into bed, I worried some more about Simon–why was his phone unobtainable? It just didn’t make any sense. Tomorrow–I looked at the clock, it was one o'clock in the morning–today, and it was Good Friday–a bank holiday, so the banks and markets were closed throughout Europe and N. America. So why wasn’t he coming home? That bloody woman. I would speak with Henry in the morning.

I did fall asleep because I woke up with a head like a bucket, one someone was hitting with a large hammer. For some reason the girls stayed in their own beds and were still there when I got up at seven. I looked in the mirror and didn’t recognise the red eyed old hag who looked back at me. So, I went back to bed and slept for two more hours.

When I woke up the second time, the girls were downstairs playing with their dolls and still in their pyjamas. Tom had given them breakfast but had drawn the line at washing and dressing them.

I had a cuppa and sorted them and myself out. “Are ye nae havin’ breakfast?”

“Not hungry, Daddy.”

“You eat something, or I won’t let you go and play.”

I had a slice of toast which I forced down with some banana mashed on top of it. He then said he was going up to the cemetery with some flowers. I asked the girls if they’d like to go too. They did, so we all walked up there together.

There was a bit of drizzly rain about but we didn’t get very wet and the girls and Kiki had a good run about and some fresh air. I realised I hadn’t seen the baby yesterday and asked Tom if he’d look after the girls again. One day he was going to say no, but not today. Trish asked if she could come with me, so I agreed. Meems seemed happy to stay with Tom.

We had an early lunch and set off for the hospital. Traffic was heavier than I expected, seems like tourists were heading for the coast, like lemmings, only sadly they didn’t all jump off the cliffs, they just clogged up the roads.

We parked and I let Trish put the coins in the pay and display meter. Then up to see Stella, walk her about a bit, she seemed a little better and she actually spoke to Trish, and remembered her name.

“It’s my birthday tomorrow, Auntie Stella.”

“I’ll get you a present when I get out of here.”

“That’s okay, Auntie Stella, I’m sure I’ll have enough from Mummy and Daddy.”

“I’m sure you will, and I’ll get you one too, but later.”

“Okay, Auntie Stella.”

“You’re a good girl, Tricia.”

“Thank you, Auntie Stella, I try to be.”

“Give me a kiss and off you go, up to see my baby I expect.”

“I hope so, Auntie Stella, is that all right?”

“Yes, you can take her home with you if you like, a full size doll.” Trish looked totally confused by this statement and it got worse, “I asked your Mummy to take her, but she doesn’t want her.” Trish looked very concerned.

“That isn’t true, Stella. I told you I would help you look after your baby, but I wasn’t prepared to look after for you if you could do it yourself. She is your baby and a bonny wee thing.”

“Well you have her then.”

“We’ll be off now, I’ll try and pop in over the weekend.”

“Take Desi with you, I don’t want her.”

We left the ward and Trish was holding tightly to my hand. “How can she be so awful to her baby, Mummy?”

“She isn’t well, her mind’s playing tricks with her.”

“Doesn’t she love her baby?”

“If she was well, she would, but she has a problem called post natal depression, it can do funny things to you when you have a baby.”

“Poor, Auntie Stella.”

“Quite. Come on, let’s go and see Baby Puddin’.”

“And where were you yesterday?” asked the nurse/midwife.

“I have two children to look after, this one had a doctor’s appointment.”

“Oh, nothing infectious I hope?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive. Do you think I’d bring a sickly child in here with all these vulnerable infants?”

“You’d be surprised what people do.”

“Not me, nothing surprises me,” I said with a sort of weariness that should have sounded authentic to an arch sceptic.

“I think you can have a little cuddle with the baby, today.”

“Oh, what a lovely surprise, did you hear that Trish?”

“Yes, Mummy, can I have a cuddle too?”

“We’ll see, is there a bottle?”

The nurse brought us one and she lifted the baby out of the incubator, detached the wires and after wrapping her in a blanket, handed her to me. I can’t describe the feelings that went through me. Sadness that it was me not Stella who was having this lovely treat. Delight, I loved babies and never thought I’d be feeding one this young. More sadness that I’d never have my own, and looking at Trish knew she felt the same or would do one day. Still there are some biological females who can’t conceive even with fertility treatment, and they might well feel even more cheated than I do.

Trish was giving the bottle to Puddin’, who was gurgling and smiling at her. There seemed to be a bond between them, if there was it would be really good for both of them. It would give Trish a chance to develop big sister skills even more than with Mima, who would also have a chance to do so, but to see how babies grow and how to look after them.

All we had to do now was get Stella well enough to play mothers with her baby. After I’d burped her, I sat Trish down and gently put the baby in her arms. They looked so good together, I took a picture with my phone.

As I was about to put it away, it beeped and I read the text.

‘Still busy, c u when I can, luv S.xxx’

I felt like texting back, ‘Not good enough!’ but I didn’t, instead I felt a cold sensation in my solar plexus. Then I looked at Trish and the baby, and decided that I wouldn’t let Simon spoil our weekend, and in particular, Trish’s Birthday.