Wuthering Dormice (aka Bike) Part 901 by Angharad Copyright © 2010 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

It took ages to stop Julie’s tears. She was still crying when I went to get the girls from school. Effectively, the person who stopped them, was Trish. I had primed them that Julie was very upset after bumping into her old parents, so when we got home, the three musketeerettes(?) went rushing straight up to her bedroom. I had actually suggested it wasn’t a good idea, but when has anyone listened to me?

I had agreed with the police that some sort of doorway needed to be kept open for her should she want to stay in contact with her parents–but given the current high feelings, that seemed unlikely to happen soon.

Andy Bond called to say that given the violence inherent in the car park confrontation by her parents, Social Services were happy that she stay with me, especially as I’d arranged a visit from Stephanie for early evening, and as Dr Caudwell was respected by the child welfare services–once she had sanctioned the child staying with me, it became accepted wisdom.

On reflection, I could see how her parents could be upset–for them read my parents, and probably many other transgendered children’s parents. If it challenges some of your basic values and principles–it must be difficult to get your head round. Were I normal, would I find it so easy to understand? Dunno and as that’s never going to happen, I won’t wear out any more brain cells worrying about it.

Anyway, she got out of cooking the chicken–that fell to me, so after a quick mustard and lemon glaze, topped off with paprika, and stuffed with chopped Spanish onion and garlic, I whacked it in the oven while I parboiled the spuds for roasting.

I had the boys help me with the vegetables, one trimming cauliflower and broccoli and the other peeling and slicing carrots. They were angry that Julie had been upset by her parents and quick to suggest I was the Queen of foster mothers, but I suspect that might have had more to do with ice cream sodas for afters.

Essentially, this was a bit like knickerbocker glories, without the cream–in my version, ice cream and fruit are layered in a deep glass, then ice cream soda pop is poured over it, and it goes all frothy–like Julie’s dad–and gooey, they love ‘em.

Danny did the fruit when he finished doing the carrots–some strawberries, grapes and banana. The boys really seemed to enjoy helping in the kitchen, so I made a mental note to include them more often.

Mima was the first of the female coalition to come down–she wanted a biscuit and a drink. She got the drink–by this time the roasties were in the oven and the chicken had about half an hour to finish cooking. We could have roasted the carrots as well, but I don’t like too much greasy food and boiled veg are probably healthier.

Next down was Livvie, who also wanted a drink–neither she nor Mima told me anything about what was going on upstairs. So I went up to see for myself, if Trish was blue lighting her, I was going to be cross, especially as Stephanie’s visit was likely to cost me a hundred or two, the last thing I needed was Julie to be zonked, which the healing often does to the patient.

Instead I found them talking about different things, I listened in for a moment. “Do you like those tights?” asked Julie of Trish’s school issue tights.

“They’re okay, better than having to wear trousers like I would if Mummy hadn’t rescued me.”

“Yeah, she’s pretty amazing isn’t she?”

“I think pretty and amazing,” said Trish chuckling.

“I wonder if she could use her power to turn my dad into a frog or something.”

“She’s not a wicked witch you know.”

“Yeah, but it must be tempting.”

“No,” said Trish firmly, “the energy must not be used to do bad–it won’t let you anyway. When Mima took my favourite book and scribbled in it, I wanted to make her jump out of the window...” I was horrified at this. “...But the energy wouldn’t do anything, instead it made me see that she wasn’t doing nasty things to me, because she didn’t know any better. Besides, Mummy helped me rub much of it out so it wasn’t too bad.”

“Yeah, I s’pose you’re right, and why I don’t get the blue light power–I’d be zapping everyone, whether they wanted it or not.”

“Oh you can’t do that–you’d lose it within a week and you’d be very frazzled yourself.”

“I feel pretty frazzled now.” Julie sounded tired.

“Maybe we should see if dinner’s ready, I could eat a horse–except for the shoes, of course.” Trish giggled at her own joke and Julie laughed as well. I sneaked back down the stairs and started making the gravy.

Stephanie arrived just as I was finishing the gravy–she got invited to dinner and immediately the meal was finished, took Julie into Tom’s study. They were there for an hour, during which time, the rest of us began to clear up the kitchen.

Steph went after more coffee–she’s an addict–and things settled down for the evening. The girls went to bed and I read them a story, then the boys went and I read to them as well, finally Julie went up and I half expected to find her in my bed later on. Only this time, I’d let her stay without comment.

In fact she didn’t–or put it this way she hadn’t when I took some ironing up to the boy’s room, she was in her own bed, listening to her MP3 player and reading at the same time–multi-tasking? I doubt it–besides scientists have proved it’s a myth–no one can do it properly.

I dumped her fresh ironing on her bedroom chair and she hardly noticed me going in and out. I didn’t know if that was good or bad. Steph had given me a few sedatives if Julie had trouble sleeping, but that was all, and I had them safely tucked away.

The nice surprise was she declined to bill me for the visit–saying she enjoyed eating with a family, even if it was one of chimps.

At eleven, the phone rang. I answered it expecting it to be Simon, and I was wondering how I’d describe the events of the day. It wasn’t, it was Ken Nicholls calling from the QA.

“Cathy, can you help us? I’ve got a bloke here with a myocardial infarct and multiple fractures where he fell down the stairs when his heart gave out. He’s not going to last the hour, let alone the night without some special help.”

“I thought we’d agreed that I’d done my last healing for you?”

“I know–look Cathy, this guy has got no chance with conventional medicine–he’s gonna die for sure–you’re his one and only chance. I’ve got his wife outside almost in an hysterical collapse, apparently they lost their only child earlier and the police said it was their own fault. So they’re having a pretty shitty day, to lose one rellie is unfortunate, to lose two verges on carelessness.”

“Okay, I’ll come if you promise not to quote any more Oscar Wilde at me?”

“Is this a dagger, I see before me...”

“Ken–shurrup, or I’ll tell everyone you’re a closet thespian.”

“Get here quick, need a police escort?”

“I’m on my way–but this is the last time.”

“Okay, I promise guides’ honour.”

“How long were you in the Girl Guides?”

“Until they did the medicals,” he sniggered.

After telling Tom and Stella where I was going, and evading their protests, I jumped in the car and hammered down to the hospital, parked the car near the ICU, and ran in.
I passed some woman who was being comforted by a nurse, though she had her back to me so we neither saw each other very much. Ken was waiting for me and took me to the edge of the cubicle.

“He’s very badly injured, fractures of skull, three vertebra, suspected bleed in the spleen and an MI–how he’s still alive is a mystery, but you’re our only hope, unless God comes by, in which I’ll let you know.”

“Yeah, I’d appreciate that,” I jibed back–neither of us believed in deities of any sort, other than man-made ones.

“What’s his name?”

“Bradley.”

“Like Wiggo?”

“No Bradley and Wiggo are very different names, in fact Wiggo sounds like a made up name.”

“Ken, have you never heard of Bradley Wiggins?”

“No–in what context would I have heard it?”

“Cycling–track and road, Olympic champion, fourth in the TdF.”

“No, never heard of him.” Then he snorted and I knew he was winding me up.

I went into the cubicle, I could hardly see the man for tubes and machines, the energies didn’t feel good–he was definitely dying and I somehow doubted I could do much–maybe it was his time to go, if there is such a thing.

I sat and tried to zero in on his injuries, except he felt completely covered in a blanket of blackness which was wrapping itself tighter and tighter around him. I took his hand–it felt cold and something else, which I couldn’t identify.

I pulled down a white energy to protect myself and also to counter the blackness which was trying to swarm over me as well. “Bradley, listen to my voice, tune into it and let me help you out of this darkness. Follow my voice and come towards the light it carries. Concentrate as best you can–come towards me, see the light, feel the light–focus on me and my voice–my name is Catherine, come towards me now look for the white light, I’ll be there to help you.”

I pulled down a whole sun full of light and surrounded myself–this man was covered in something not nice. It was going to be a battle, a real fight all the way. I centred down and began to pour light into him, it was like boring into stone–the blackness was so established.

I don’t know how long I was there, Ken came and helped me away about four o’clock I was shattered and felt like I’d run a marathon in lead boots. I also felt in need of a shower, which I had at the unit. It was only after that that I learned of the man’s fate.

“So how is he?” I asked expecting to be told he was dead.

“You’re amazing, Cathy, he’s stabilised–good cardio output, his kidneys are working okay, and the bleed in his spleen–seems to have stopped. I won’t know about the fractures until we can scan or X-ray him, but he’s got a chance now. Thanks so much, I know how much this affects you.” He gave me a huge hug and pecked me on the cheek.

I was led out of the unit and the woman turned to face me. “What’s she doing here?” It was Mrs Kemp, my tummy flipped–I’d just spent most of the night trying to rescue Julie’s dad. Oh shit!