The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2699 by Angharad Copyright© 2015 Angharad

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This is a work of fiction any mention of real people, places or institutions is purely coincidental and does not imply that they are as suggested in the story.
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Cindy appeared about half an hour after I showered and supervised Trish and Hannah doing the same. “That was great fun, Auntie Cathy, can we do it again?”

“I’m sure we will,” I said my attention more interested in being focused on putting food or drink down my gullet than sitting on bike saddles.

“Like tomorra?” she said and I realised we had an enthusiast.

“We’ll see, c’mon get your hair dried and let’s get some food.” My tummy rumbled as if to emphasise the point and she chuckled. Dried and brushed her hair putting it into a ponytail, then did the same with Trish. She spent most of the time fiddling with her iPad. “What are you doing, Trish.”

“Mapping our ride, we did twelve miles and the profile of the terrain was mainly flat.”

“My computer told me the distance and my legs told me the altitude.”

“Your legs?”

“Yes, if we’d done much climbing they’d be much more tired than they are at the moment.”

“I wonder how my bike would climb, Auntie Cathy.”

“We’ll perhaps find out once you’re a bit more practiced with the gears.”

“Like tomorra?”

“I said, we’ll see. Right, I’m going to get a cuppa and see how long dinner is going to be,” with that I left them talking.

“Don’t push it, Han, or she won’t let you use it for days.”

“I thought Auntie Cathy was a nice lady.”

“She is if you behave, if you don’t, she gets nasty.” I smirked as I trotted downstairs where David passed me a mug of tea. I’d almost finished it by the time the two plotters arrived. “How long to dinner, Mum?”

“Ask David, he’s the cook.”

“How long, David?”

“Fifteen minutes.”

“’Kay, c’mon, Han, I’ll show you how to do that thing...” they departed presumably to where their computers lurked—probably the dining room.

“Hi, Auntie Cathy,” said Cindy as she and Danni passed the kitchen door, “not very nice weather, is it?”

“It certainly isn’t, and supposed to be worse tonight.”

“It’s not is it?” asked David.

“Gales according to the weather forecast, I believe.”

“Damn, I did a whole pile of lettuce seedlings earlier. I’ll have to bring them in now.” Don’t people watch forecasts? They’re so accessible, what with, TV radio and the internet, not to mention the papers. I washed my cup and left him to finish the dinner. It was six already, it felt later and was so dark considering actual sunset should be about nine. It was also quite cold and I’d dressed in jeans and thick jumper—and it’s July—the world gets crazier by the minute.

Si and Sammi arrived about the same time as Julie and Phoebe, they all dashed upstairs after giving me a hug and kiss—about the only perk I seem to have these days.

David finally banged the dinner gong and we assembled in the kitchen and then ate his very tasty confection. “Can we do some sewing tonight, Mummy?” I nearly choked as the enquirer was Danielle, doubtless passing on Cindy’s request.

“Possibly, I’ll need to check if I need to do anything on the survey.”

“Thanks, Mummy,” she said but it was Cindy who smiled.

“Can I do some too,” asked Hannah.

“If we do any, you’re all welcome; but I have to check the survey first.”

“You do that every day, Mummy,” grumbled Danni.

“Because they pay me.”

“Oh, need any help?” Danni was always trying to make a quick buck though what she spent it on, I had no idea—hang on, those are new earrings and she probably gets through a mascara wand every couple of weeks. Like many young teens she wears makeup if she’s awake, and in industrial quantities. I shouldn’t think such thoughts because I’d probably be the same were I her age again. It’s a point of regret that I wasn’t able to except in secret and my efforts were far worse until Siân showed me some of the basics.

There wasn’t very much to do on the survey and we adjourned to my study for our sewing bee. Julie had repairs to do to some of her salon capes so came and sat with us for a while. Phoebe brought me in a cuppa and then the reason for her largess became obvious. She’d torn a seam on a favourite pair of leggings. Of course they were black, but wouldn’t take long on the machine. It took me longer to drink my tea.

“Is Cindy staying?” I asked Danni when Cindy had popped to the loo.

“Can she?”

“Providing Brenda says it’s okay.”

“I’ll get her to phone.”

I shook my head, trying to teach these kids how to speak correctly was a waste of time, they were so slovenly in their speech. Mind you, the number of people who abuse the English language and who should know better, is appalling.

Danni and Cindy made up the bed in the spare room and Danni lent her friend a nightdress. They went upstairs to play on her computer and as they knew the rules and I trusted them to respect them—the rules—I left them in peace.

At half past nine I sent the younger girls to bed—they could read for twenty minutes, which just gave me time for a quick cuppa before I enforced the lights out. They grumbled—they always do and in the same vein, I insist or consequences would ensue. They all giggle and snuggle down, whereupon, I tuck them in and kiss them goodnight.

“This is much nicer than my old mum,” observed Hannah.

“What is, sweetheart?”

“Doing the sewing and being tucked in. It’s nice, an’ the bike ride was awesome.”

Quintana’s up Alpe d’Huez, now that was awesome, our trundle up the bike path—hardly. I must be getting old.

At ten I made Danielle and Cindy go to bed—not together—duh. They could read for a short time and Cindy had brought her kindle. “Thank you for helping me with my sewing, Auntie Cathy, Mum really has no idea.”

“That’s okay, girl.”

“I still love it when people say that,” she smiled.

“It eventually becomes normal and then irritates because it’s often accompanied by a request to do something, ‘Makes us a cuppa, girl,’ and so on.”

“Oh that happens with Mum now, but it still feels good.”

“I’m sure it does, goodnight, girl,” I winked.

She chuckled, “Thanks for having me to dinner and letting me stop over.”

“You’re welcome, kiddo,” I pulled her door closed and went to check on Danielle. “Cindy is so polite,” I observed.

“So why are you complaining?”

“I’m not, or if I am, it’s because you lot aren’t.”

“Huh, we say please and thank you.”

“About once a week.”

“Didn’t realise you were counting.”

“There are lots of things you don’t realise.”

“Like what?”

“Perhaps you need to think about them.”

“Gee thanks.”

“Goodnight, kiddo.” I bent over and she pecked me on the cheek.

“Why don’t you ask Julie if she needs a couple of extra juniors tomorrow?”

“Does she?”

“If you were up in time you could ask her.”

“Why can’t I go an’ ask her now?”

“Because you’re in bed and she’s about to go.”

“You don’t make sense some days, mother dear.”

“I thought when you were a teenager, if your mother made sense you must have asked the wrong question.”

“Yeah, that as well.”