Easy As Falling Off A Bike pt 2852

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The Daily Dormouse.
(aka Bike, est. 2007)
Part 2852
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.
*****

I woke feeling reasonable given I hadn’t slept that much but my reverie had relocated different memories into different parts of my past and whilst the bad parts didn’t feel any less bad, the good bits felt so much better that I could cope with the bad bits more easily. I’m glad I got that sorted out. It’s like if the rewards are good enough we’ll put up with the bad things to collect them, such as training for something like a bike race. You’re out putting in the miles to increase strength and endurance, coping with all winds and weathers just so you can do the same again against opponents in a race. Provided your expectations aren’t too high, it’s worth it.

I felt good that my mother had recognised something in me and reacted accordingly by training me like she would her daughter but without Dad twigging, or had he and let it ride as there were advantages in it for him. He now had two slaves running round for him doing the cooking or cleaning or mending. At the time standing there doing the ironing one weekend because I’d cheeked my mother, felt more like punishment, especially as it was a trumped up charge. But looking back, she told my dad when he threatened me that she had a better punishment, make me do the ironing and she could sit and read her book. He grumbled but agreed, then went out to do some gardening while I stood at the ironing board and learned how to work the iron, temperatures, steam, how much pressure and the order to do things in. Start at the collar, iron in from the points, then the cuffs, the sleeves and so on.

“Everyone should learn how to iron their clothes,” she told me as I burnt my finger for the second time.

“Does Dad?” I asked sarcastically.

“He’s a man, he has us to do that for him.”

I blushed but decided not to argue assuming she saw me as gay and therefore a lesser being, but looking back, I think she saw me as her daughter and I failed to pick up on the real meaning of the comment. Even if I had I doubt she’d have enlarged on it and left me to stew over it. But I learned to iron or press everything, even her underwear—why? Because I might have some of my own one day. She was far more canny than I appreciated at the time. After breakfast, I set to with the mound of ironing we had. Amanda had done some yesterday, but there’s so many of us we have the washing machine going every day which means there’s ironing everyday as well.

I’d been at it for about half an hour when Trish came up and looked at me with one of her enigmatic expressions. “You should be doing some of this, you know?”

She laughed.

“What’s so funny?”

“The lady who’s watching you is nodding and smiling.”

“What lady?” I glanced around.

“Your mum I s’pose, she was watching you for several minutes and nodding at everything you did, so you musta been doing it right.”

“You saw my mother?” I said with tears filling my eyes.

“Only for a couple of minutes?”

“Did she say anything?”

“Only that it took you a long time to work it out.”

I stopped put the iron down and hugged her while laughing and crying at the same time.

“What did I do?” she asked looking totally bemused by the experience.

“C’mon, I’ll tell you.” I unplugged the iron and put it safe and we went to the kitchen and I put the kettle on. I made us each a cuppa and we sat and sipped it. “You know that when I was younger my parents didn’t like my wanting to be a girl?”

“Yes, your daddy beat you up, didn’t he?”

“Occasionally. I was never sure about my mum. I mean, in reality, even a blind man should have been able to see I was really a girl but my dad wouldn't hear of it. My mum did as he wanted most of the time and reported things to my dad who handed out the punishment, often with a cane or a belt across my bum.”

“My old mummy used to do that to me.”

“But your new one doesn’t.”

“No, she’s nice—sometimes.”

“Sometimes? You rotten ingrate.”

She giggled and showed her nice white teeth.

“Back to my story—she used to make me do things, sometimes as punishments, which was really training me to keep house for a family as a mother would. She knew my dad would have objected if he’d known what she was doing but as he was often the recipient of my new housekeeping skills, like his ironing got done or his trousers got taken up, he played along. So when I left home to go to university, I could cook a bit, clean, launder and do repairs to clothing, hang curtains or make or alter them, and match them to the rest of the house. I only just realised that she knew all along.”

“Is that why she said it?”

“I think so, it’s the best way she could tell me I was her daughter and she knew it.” I felt the tears start up again.

“Don’t cry, Mummy.”

“I can’t help it, I just wish she was still alive, sometimes I miss her so much.”

Trish got off her seat and came and hugged me. “We still love you, Mummy.”

“I know, sweetheart, I love you, too. It’s just how things might have been if only my stupid body had been the right gender in the first place.”

“But you might not have been my mummy if you’d had your own babies to look after.”

“That’s true and I couldn’t have wished for nicer children than you lot, could I?”

“No, Mummy.”

“Where’s that Trish, I’m gonna bloody murder her...?” shouted Livvie from the hallway.

“Gotta go, Mummy.” She let me go and slipped out the back door to avoid the wrath of her sister. I decided not to get involved.

After rinsing the cups, I went back my ironing feeling happier about it than I had for many a day. Actually, I quite enjoyed it when I was in my bedsit ironing my girly stuff, the few bits I had. I remembered the way my mum had directed me and still did it the same way—the proper way, she’d called it. It was just so good to have confirmation that she knew I was a girl and that she was teaching me girl things despite my dad being there. Then she had an advantage, being a woman she was able to run rings round him and her daughter by the sound of it. Nice one, Mum.

The next hour flew by as I continued my recollections, through very rose coloured lenses and I was pleased to see the mound of ironing decrease markedly without me being aware of how much I’d actually done.

Trish walked in with Livvie and they were deep in conversation about something but whatever it was the earlier animosity had gone, I was therefore, as their mum, pleased with small mercies.

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Comments

We have four children

of our own, So i totally understand that arguments between siblings can and do develop Sometimes you needed the wisdom of Solomon to settle whatever the problem was , Cathy seems to be lucky her children to a large extent seem to sort out their own problems, Maybe its because of the lives they led before Cathy became their mother, Quite understandably they have no wish to return to their previous existence and for that reason (maybe subconsciously) they resolve their problem.... Whatever the reason i'm sure Cathy for one will not complain when all is sweetness and light ...

Kirri

Fate (or our intrepid author) works in mysterious ways

Loved this statement from Trish.

“But you might not have been my mummy if you’d had your own babies to look after.”

Pointing out the kinds of things that have led to this family and home.

For an agnostic, Cathy has interesting apparitions

Isn't it wonderful Trish has the vision.While Cathy is just now coming to the realization that her mother always felt Charlie was her daughter, and covered it up from her father, Trish sees Cathy's mother watching Cathy iron. How did Trish know who that was, she never saw Cath's mom ?

Cefin

Maybe if Cathy opens herself to the possibilities

She can interact with other loved ones past.

Of course, there is another take on this. I suspect the Goddess was quite please Cathy came to her for advise. Her abilities may increase again, or go back to where they were. She wasn't able to help Danni a few chapters ago.

But there is still that sword hanging over Cathy's head. The Goddess wants something done. If Cathy won't do it she will have Trish pick up the work. We don't know what that is, but having a large happy family (which is also the Goddesses work) doesn't strike me as what she wants. Not a comfortable situation for Cathy to be in.

Slightly surprised...

That Cathy has missed the discovery of field mice last week in an area of Hampshire where they were thought not to inhabit.
Or did Radio Solent get it wrong?

Love Bev xx

It was harvest mice

Angharad's picture

which are quite rare field mice are common species.

Angharad

There is no such thing as field mice in the UK

Angharad's picture

We have, wood mice, yellow-necked mice, house mice and harvest mice. What people call field mice are usually wood mice as are many of what people call house mice.

Angharad