Wuthering Dormice (aka Bike) Part 876 by Angharad Copyright © 2010 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

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Livvie was standing in my kitchen, smirking, Tom looked as if he was about to become apoplectic and my tummy did a flip and this shiver ran right up my spine.

“Whit?” said Tom, his look of astonishment hadn’t changed.

“Dr Gareth’s car won’t start.”

“We’ll hae tae call the RAC or AA,” said Tom.

“You have to be joking, Daddy, they wouldn’t be here until next week.”

“I’ll hae tae tow him in mine.”

“You’ll do no such thing. To start with, your car is still snowed in despite the boy’s best efforts, and it’s too dangerous. No, he can stay the night,” I smirked at Tom and if looks could kill, I’d have been stone dead before I hit the ground.

“I’m nae happy aboot this.”

“Daddy, don’t be ridiculous–Liv, ask him in, and take him into the sitting room, I’ll be along in a moment–you can’t refuse hospitality on a night like this, it’s going to freeze hard tonight, Daddy.”

He was still scowling at me and muttering in Lallans as I went into the sitting room. “If you could get your battery off, it could charge overnight and you could put it back in the morning.”

“I feel pretty stupid, the car’s only a year old. I think I must have left the interior light on or something.”

“It happens–Danny pop your coat on and help Dr Sage get his battery off and show him the charger in the garage workshop.”

“Yes, Mummy.”

“I’m coming too,” said Billy and I shook my head–some days they were like Siamese twins.

“So am I,” said Julie, fluttering her eyelashes.

“Ah no, Julie, I want you to help me.” I’ll stop your game, madam. She gave me a filthy look so I beamed back a huge smile.

“I’ll help you, Mummy,” volunteered Trish.

“You and Livvie can make some tea for us, Meems, you can tidy up the toys, please. C’mon Julie–we have a guest room to make ready.”

On the way to it, I grabbed a set of bed clothes from the airing cupboard–thankfully, like everything else in this house it was huge–it would need to be with half of Portsmouth seemingly living here.

Once in the guest room, I closed the door and as we made up the bed, I let Julie know, I had noticed her flirting and disapproved of it.

“Huh, you’re only jealous because I’m younger.”

“Julie, when are you going to learn–you don’t make promises you can’t keep. That’s why you were lying on a pile of rubbish bags when I found you.”

“Oh throw that in my face again.”

“It’s true, Julie–you are a sixteen year old, with a boy’s body.”

“But I feel like a girl.”

“I know, but you’re not one yet–not down there anyway–and even if you were, I’d be very angry if you tried to seduce any male guests we had staying here. Your behaviour at dinner was verging on flagrant.”

“What about you and Auntie Stella?” she riposted, “you were both undressing him with your eyes.”

“Don’t be ridiculous–I’m a married woman–a happily married woman.”

“I know what I saw.” The little besom was going to try and blackmail me.

“Do you now. It’s funny, at sixteen I knew everything–at twenty I wasn’t so sure–and nowadays, I know how little I actually do know.” Stick that in your pipe.

“Well I know what I saw, you and Auntie Stella practically raping the poor man with your eyes.”

“Gentlewomen don’t do such things,” I sneered, hoping my nose wasn’t growing any longer–I rubbed it to make sure. Then became aware that I’d just convicted myself by my own actions–apparently, our noses itch when we’re lying–watch Bill Clinton denying his fun with Monica Lewinsky.

“Huh, sez who?” she said as she left the room.

“Julie–Julie come back here this minute.” She of course ignored me and I fumed as I finished putting on the pillow cases and duvet cover.

Stella was pouring out a cup of tea for our guest when I got downstairs. “Where’s mine?” I asked.

“Oh, I didn’t make you one,” she said promptly ignoring me and returning to chatting with Gareth. Julie was in the background trying to catch his eye, pouting and pulling her skirt up above her knee. I shook my head and went to make my tea, Tom had at least left the kitchen, probably in his study having his dram.

It’s a pity Simon isn’t here, he’d enjoy meeting Gareth, whom I think he’d like–and I could wind him up something rotten. I chuckled to myself–I was such a bitch at times–hee hee.

I stayed in the kitchen–it prevented me from watching Julie making a fool of herself, or Stella for that matter. More importantly, it stopped me from doing the same. I filled the bread machine instead–we’d probably need an extra loaf for breakfast.

With my laptop on the kitchen table, I answered a few more emails–mostly about the survey–the weather was playing havoc with some of it and making it easier for other things. Someone had sent in a lovely photo of an arctic hare from the Highlands of Scotland. Part of me wished I was up there at this moment or the Lake District–sometimes I needed the contrast with the woodland or semi-urban environment I lived in most of the time, these days. Even woodland would be a change–mind you, it looked more like tundra outside at the moment.

Then I saw it, another email from Luke Perryman, now using a university address–.ac.uk.

Hi Cathy,

I did enjoy your film–to say you’ve changed a bit since Sussex would be the understatement of the century. I’m impressed, even to the point of nearly fancying you–but, sorry, I can’t forget Charlie–and I’m not queer. I suppose it’s amazing what they can do with plastic surgery and silicone these days.
Sorry we didn’t get to meet again, I believe round two is at Southampton, so I look forward to seeing you then–yes I’m part of the mammal team from here, and as we’re the senior university, I feel we should be running things. It’s a man thing–oh, I forgot, you used to be one, sort of, didn’t you?

Luke.

The bastard, I was right not to go and see him. I went and got Tom and showed him the email.

“Oh sae that’s his wee game–och weel, we’ll jes hae to play a little harder oorsel’s.”

“What d’you mean, Daddy.” I said to his disappearing back.

“Gareth, d’ye mind if I hae a wee word wi’ ye?” I heard him say and by the time I’d got into the hall, they were shutting the study door.

I continued answering emails and trying not to fume at that disgraceful email–plastic surgery and silicone, indeed. The only surgery I’d had was the gender reassignment, there was no silicone whatsoever inside me–it was all home grown, with a little help from some pills.

I got the girls to bed and read them a story. “Mummy, do you like Dr Gareth?” asked Trish.

“Yes, he’s very nice and very good looking, but it’s your daddy I love.” I hoped my answer had circumnavigated any further awkward questions.

“Mummy, what is libido?”

I nearly fell off the end of the bed. Blushing furiously while trying to think of an answer, I asked, “Where did you hear that?” desperately stalling for time.

“Auntie Stella said to Julie that hers was too high.”

“Oh it’s something inside you, don’t worry about it, you’ll understand when you’re older.”

“Julie said her sex drive was normal, and Auntie Stella said, ‘Yes, for an alley cat’. What did they mean?”

“I think they were just joking with each other, sweetheart.”

“It didn’t look as if they were joking.”

“Trish, go to sleep and don’t worry about such things. I’m not going to explain them to you because you won’t understand until you are older.”

“Does that mean after my doodah is cut off?”

“Not necessarily, but it involves things which don’t happen to your body until you’re at least eleven or twelve, in my case I was quite a bit older. When these things start to happen, you’ll be aware and we can talk about it then. Goodnight.”

I left the three of them giggling, although I thought I had escaped reasonably lightly. I sent the boys to bed and then confronted the two women who were the cause of my embarrassment.

“I’ve just had to answer questions on sex drive and libido. Now I’m not going to discuss it, but I don’t want to have to do it again, so please be careful where you have your cat fights.”

Before they could answer, I walked away and back to the kitchen the mumblings behind me tended to mention the word jealous at least once. I gritted my teeth and went back to my emails.

A bit later, Julie went off to bed and said goodnight and kissed me on the cheek as if I was her mother. Stella made some more tea and gave me a cup.

“So after a disgraceful display of unbridled lust, you’re taking the moral high ground are you?”

“Me? Yeah, that just about sums it up. He’s lovely chap with something special about him, but I happen to be married to your brother and would like to keep it that way, period.”

“So you’re leaving the way clear, then?”

“I suppose I am.”

“Hmmm, thank you, sis.”

“You still have a rival,” I smirked.

“What? I don’t think so–after all, she’s at a distinct disadvantage in a vital area. Besides it takes a mature woman to show a man a thing or two.”

“Well I suppose, if maturity is measured in grey hairs and wrinkles–you’ve got it, Stel.”

Watching her nearly choke on her tea was worth the thump on the arm she gave me.