Wuthering Dormice (aka Bike) Part 908 by Angharad Copyright © 2010 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

“Hampshire police have been criticised for carrying out a training exercise in a street in Portsmouth without telling the residents that it was going to take place. Their spokesperson, responded by saying that they wanted to see how ordinary people reacted when they thought something was happening in their area.

“In Southampton, a runaway hippopotamus caused confusion when it escaped from its enclosure..."

I stood looking at the television for several minutes–so far so good. I’d managed to get home without a pursuit by paparazzi, and there were no crowds waiting at the gate–maybe they bought our lie? We’d have to see.

I felt sorry for Chief Inspector Pike, he was the one who’d have to deal with the Chief Constable and the inquiry he’d hold. I hoped it didn’t all leak out afterwards–I called Henry who knew the CC personally, they played golf occasionally, I think.

Henry was pleased everyone was safe–and he’d go along with the training exercise cover. More importantly, he’d talk with his friend and see if he could be prevailed upon for the security of seven children. He agreed that it smacked of abuse of privilege, but where my children are concerned–I’ll do whatever is necessary to protect them.

Julie came down and thanked me for saving her life again. I hugged her and said I hadn’t done anything except accept the love she’d given me, and reciprocated that love. We both had tears in our eyes as we hugged–which quickly became a group hug as the girls and then the boys joined in–all glad that she was home safely.

She then hugged and kissed each one and they all declared they were family from now on–the boys were their brothers and Julie was their big sister. When I asked the boys about Julie’s little anomaly, they shrugged and said she had a plumbing problem, the same as Trish’s. Then Danny embarrassed himself, by declaring he still fancied her like mad. Julie gave him another hug and kissed him again.

I had to point out, if they were now brother and sister–they couldn’t fancy each other, as it had all sorts of negative connotations about it.

“Why? I fancy you too, Mummy, but I’m never gonna do anythin’ about it, am I?”

“Oedipus shmoedipus, what’s it matter so long as he loves his mother.” I said this and none of them laughed–I suppose five and ten is a bit young for Greek myths. I noticed Stella smirking in the background, she was carrying Puddin’ who was gurgling at the assembled throng before her.

“Can we take her out in the pram, Auntie Stella?” asked Trish.

“Oh yes, let’s?” echoed Livvie and Mima.

“Can one of the boys or Julie go with you then, because it’s getting dark.”

“I’ll go,” volunteered Julie, “I could do with stretching my legs.”

“I’ll get the dinner ready, unless we have pizzas,” I said and was nearly trampled in the rush.

Stella and I actually had boiled eggs with toast–neither of us is fond of pizza. I laid the table and Stella noticed my knuckles–“I thought you’d grazed your knuckles,” she said.

“Trish kissed them better–they healed rather quickly after that.”

“Do you realise if you two stay together, you’re likely to live forever,” Stella mocked.

“No thank you–just my normal life span will do for me, I don’t know what Trish feels, but at five, I shouldn’t think her opinions are fully formed yet.”

“Nah, better wait until she’s seven for that,” Stella joked.

“Yeah, ask her on her way to enrolling at Oxford.”

“I thought she wanted to go to Sussex.”

“Why?”

“Because her mother went there.”

“She’s cleverer than I was. She could get to Oxford if she really wanted to.”

“Or Cambridge.”

“Yeah, I suppose.” I agreed though Oxford was a lot closer to visit to see her, than the frozen reaches of East Anglia.

The girls returned with Puddin’ safely intact in her pram, and judging by the roses in their cheeks it was getting colder. Stella took her baby and went to feed her, while I answered the door to the pizza delivery. They seemed to get more expensive each time–but after a day like today, I didn’t fancy cooking much.

Tom was out at a university dinner–the academic council or some such group–universities are full of these self important groups, and because they gossip about any and everyone, it’s important not to miss out. Those who do, often end up having coups being staged against them. Tom was quite safe, but even so, he thought he’d better go. It saved me making him something anyway and it made sure he got his dinner suit cleaned.

He did suggest taking me as his guest, but I wasn’t ready for that degree of plotting yet–I’m quite naive, if you haven’t noticed. Besides, half of those present have something wrong with them, so they’d be sucking me dry of energy. I was still tired from healing on Julie after the attack.

We decided not to tell the other kids about the abduction, it would upset Trish very much, and perhaps frighten the others. I had to read to the girls, because I hadn’t seen much of them while Julie consulted Stephanie in Tom’s study.

Then I had to read to the boys–well actually, they each read to me. I felt sure that they were improving through practice. They were still a bit slow, but they were improving. I had them reading Charles Dickens, A Christmas Carol.

To make sure they understood what they were reading, I asked them questions and they certainly did understand it. They were quite worried at one point about Tiny Tim, and concerned for Scrooge during the dreams of various Christmases. For boys, they seemed quite tender hearted and I hoped that wasn’t unduly influenced by living in a house of women.

I made a mental note to get Simon to play football or something with them at the weekend–or maybe get Leon to do it. I wanted them to be balanced individuals, so they needed a masculine influence–Tom was perhaps a bit too old and he was a very gentle man. Having said that, on the few occasions he’d had to tell them off–they’d been reduced to tears and I don’t think that was purely his Scots accent.

Stephanie stayed after I sent Julie to bed–promising to come up and tuck her in later–Julie I mean, not Stephanie.

“She’s a tough cookie,” said Stephanie over a cup of Tom’s coffee.

“I know–if I’d had someone try to cut my throat, I’d be in a psyche ward.”

“She said she knew you would save her.”

“How could she know that?” I blushed.

“He did cut her throat, didn’t he?”

“If he had, she’d be dead.”

“Not if you’re about, apparently.”

“With the greatest respect, Steph, that doesn’t make sense. She’d bleed to death in minutes.”

“She said she saw the blood splash out of her throat and she felt the cut, too–said it hurt. Then she saw you bathed in this wonderful golden light which shimmered all round you, and she felt the throat heal itself–it went icy cold and she could breathe again.”

“Interesting what shock can do,” I said hoping Stephanie would be misdirected.

“Obviously in your case it makes you tell fibs.”

“I beg your pardon?” I challenged.

“Cathy, you rub your nose when you lie–it’s a common thing. I know all about the mystery healer–and some of the things you’ve done. Whilst dealing with severed carotids and jugulars is perhaps your greatest triumph so far, you’ve done some amazing things with tumours and ruptured spleens and things.

“You know, it’s a good job you weren’t present in the Middle East two thousand years ago, we’d be practicing Cathyism.” She laughed at her own joke.

“God forbid,” I gasped.

“For an unbeliever, that’s a strange exhortation.”

“Yes, Dr Cauldwell, no, Dr Cauldwell, three bags full, Dr Cauldwell. You can switch off your trick cyclist sign now–I stopped paying when Julie went to bed.”

“Ah–truly fascinating patients I see for nothing–then I write papers on them.”

“Oh yeah, if you’re thinking about doing one on me–think again, missus.”

“But it would be wonderful.”

“In what way?”

“The lengths you go to in denying things.”

“Meeeee?” I complained.

“I’ll bet you tell people you’re a lousy cyclist, too.”

“I am.”

“See what I mean?”