Wuthering Dormice (aka Bike) Part 716 by Angharad

“I’m bored,” said Trish looking out of the window at the teeming rain.

“So’m I,” Livvie added, “let’s ask Mummy if we can play on the computer?”

I shuddered as I overheard their conversation. My laptop was on its last legs and I needed a new one. If I found the time to buy one, I’d still need to transfer all sorts of stuff across to it. I fancied a Macintosh, but wasn’t sure how easily I’d be able to swap data on it. Once that was done, they could play with my computer.

“Mummy, can we play on the computer?” asked Livvie walking into the kitchen where I was doing some ironing.

“Not at the moment,” I carried on pressing Meem’s dress.

“Why not?”

I hoped we wouldn’t get into one of these power play arguments, but it looked like we were. “Because I need it myself, and I can’t afford for you lot to lose any of my data.”

“I promise we won’t.”

“Livvie, it isn’t that I don’t want you to have access to a computer, but I can’t allow you to use Grampa’s one nor mine for the moment.”

“Can we buy one, can we spend some of my money from Daddy’s will?” It was something I hadn’t thought of. I finished ironing the dress and went and looked up the phone number. I came back smiling from the phone call.

“Livvie, there is apparently a computer amongst your father’s belongings which they think is nearly new and they will arrange to have sent down by courier for tomorrow.”

“So I have to wait, that’s not fair.”

“If they’d allowed you to spend money, it might have taken a few days to get one.”

“Why can’t we go to the shop and buy one?”

“Because we don’t need to, there is one coming tomorrow at sometime, so you’ll have to be patient. Remember patience is a virtue.”

“’S’not fair.”

“I’m still bored,” sighed Trish again.

“I know, we’ll play a game, shall we?”

“Yes please, Mummy,” said Trish.

“Right, let’s pretend this is a hotel and you three are chamber maids.”

“What’s a chamber maid?”

“Like a chamber pot only with fewer brains,” said Stella as she walked past.

“What’s a chamber pot?”

One of these days, I shall strangle Stella – slowly. “Chamber maids are the ladies who clean and tidy hotel rooms for the guests.”

“Can’t I be the lady on the desk, Mummy?” asked Trish.

“No, because this is a game with a prize.”

“What’s the prize, Mummy?” asked Livvie.

“An ice cream after lunch, which only the winner will get.”

“I wanna ‘n’ice cream,” called Meems coming out behind the other two.

“Right, put on one of these aprons,” I gave one to each of them. “Now, the competition is to see if you can tidy your room better than the others. I’ll come up and judge them before lunch and the winner gets the ice cream.”

“C’mon,” called Trish and belted up the stairs, closely followed by Livvie and Meems.

“That is child exploitation, turning slavery into a competition.”

“Go and feed your child before I make you tidy your room.”

“You and who else’s army?” she teased. The phone rang and we both jumped. Stella went to answer it. “I don’t know, I’ll see if she wants to talk to you.”

“Who’s that?” I hissed to her.

“Dr Rose,” she hissed back.

“Tell him I can’t help any more of his kids, I’m sorry.”

“She said she can’t help any more of your children, she’s exhausted … what?...Oh my God … okay, I’ll get her.” She passed me the phone. “It’s not about his patients it’s about you.”

“What are you on about?” I took the handset with a piece of pique. “Yes, Sam?”

“Have you seen the local paper?”

“No, I take the Guardian, why?”

“The front page story, someone has blabbed.” I felt myself go cold, has someone revealed my history? Then the realisation hit me, that’s old news, the hospital is the new stuff. “You still there, Cathy?”

“Yes, blabbed about what?”

“Your miracles.”

“Oh shit!”

“They don’t know who it is yet, but that is likely to be only a matter of time.”

“I knew I shouldn’t have trusted those two.”

“It wasn’t them, it’s someone else. I’ve spoken to them and they haven’t spoken to any papers, it has to be someone else.”

“Yeah, but if they spoke to friends or family, one of them could be the informant.” I always knew it would be a risk but had hoped they would understand.

“I’ll speak to them again, they have promised not to say anything.”

Promises are very ephemeral things, and like mayflies, tend to have short life spans once money becomes mentioned. Many of us would sell our friends and family if the amount was big enough. I hoped I wouldn’t be one of them.

“Thanks for the warning, Sam. That was going to be the last one, it definitely is now, tell them they’ve cooked the golden goose.”

“I’m sorry, Cathy, I really am. We’ve put it out around the hospital that anyone who mentions anything about this will be facing a disciplinary for breach of confidentiality, which is not only a dismissible offence, it could result in a criminal prosecution and subsequent striking off any professional register the offender might belong to, such as nursing or physio.”

“Stable door, Sam.”

“I know, but I’m trying to stop any further leaks, a bit like the boy with his fingers in the dyke.”

“I wouldn’t have thought any self respecting dyke would allow a male child anywhere near them.”

“What?” he paused for a moment, “Oh yeah, very funny, Cathy, I’ve got to go. Maybe we can do dinner one evening.”

“Did Charlie survive?”

“Survive, he is positively thriving.”

“Good, I’m glad.” I put down the phone, I suppose I need to prepare for a siege again. I get so tired of all this, so bloody tired…

Give a cat a bad name and vote for him - you know it makes sense!