The Weekly Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 3280 by Angharad Copyright© 2021 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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Simon and Danielle returned during the late evening, they both looked shattered. We all wanted to know how she had got on but we waited. I had instructed the others that we would let them tell us in their own time so I had to curb my curiosity and wait, like the others, who were struggling with their impatience as well.

"Tea?" I asked as our intrepid travellers came into the kitchen, Danni dropping her sports bag by the side of the fridge. If she had just signed a contract with Chelsea Ladies, she didn't seem that elated by it. The two of them sat down at the table and the three of us sipped our tea surrounded by all the youngsters. I could almost feel the self-restraint they each exerted, they were all so tense.

"What's for dinner, Mummy?" asked Danni.

"David has done a huge cottage pie, so I can dish up in half an hour if that's what everyone wants?"

"Great, I'd better take my bag upstairs," she dumped her dirty kit in the washing machine, dumped her football boots, in their bag in front of the machine and then took her bag upstairs. Trish waited about two milliseconds before pursuing her older sister.

I went to switch the oven on to warm through the dinner and the other children dispersed. "I'm surprised no one asked how we got on," Simon threw at me as he hung up his jacket on the coat hooks near the back door.

"I asked them to wait until one or other of you spoke about it, they did exactly as I asked."

"I'm impressed," he said smiling, "So if I tell you next week, that's okay?"

I shrugged my shoulders non-committally, "Suit yourself," I said meaning the exact opposite. "I may say the same about sex," I threw in as I left the kitchen. Okay so that's below the belt, big deal. We have all been waiting on tenterhooks and he's playing silly-buggers, I can do that too.

"Want some wine with dinner?" he called after me.

"Only if we're celebrating," was my retort. I didn't hear any response. I dealt with some emails and walking back to the kitchen I heard two male voices, Simon was talking with Daddy and they were each drinking wine. France were playing Wales in Paris and if Wales won, they'd take the Six Nations with a grand slam, but it was going to be difficult. It proved to be so and the French won by a couple of points. Nothing was said of Danielle's footballing future. I was feeling now very tense and after the match finished, I caught her in the kitchen and asked what had happened.

"It was really tough, Mummy, but I thought I was doing quite well. I scored three goals and made two others..."

"There's a but coming, isn't there?"

She shrugged, "They said I was too small."

"They turned you down?" I asked incredulously.

"Yep."

"But you're as good as any of them." I was reeling, this wasn't supposed to happen.

"Better than most."

"But they rejected you?"

She started laughing, "No they offered me a contract, but Daddy turned it down."

"Hang on a minute, Simon stopped you signing?"

"Yeah, I suppose he did."

"You could have been playing in the WSL and he said no?"

Just then Simon came back chatting with Tom, they were annoyed that Scotland had lost to Ireland and that the nasty frogs had beaten Wales. However, and it was a big one, if Scotland could beat France on Friday, or stop the French scoring four tries and winning by twenty or more points, Wales would win the championship. It sounded a bit complicated to me.

"Why didn't you sign her to play for Chelsea?"

"Two reasons, she was unlikely to get a regular game and they wanted to pay her peanuts. So, I said no. Did I do wrong?"

"No darling, it just seemed a pity after all that effort and she does love Chelsea."

"They're a good side but this was patching up gaps until their regulars are back to form. I told them they were making a huge mistake and that they would eventually want her, but the price would be ten times what they could have got her for today and that we were looking to speak with some other WSL teams. We parted amicably and Danni understood what had happened and was okay with it. She's disappointed but she is a class act and she deserves to be rewarded as such. Did she tell you she's in the England squad next week?"

"No." I felt everything was out of control, the normal order of things was simply not there. It was all chaotic.

"Oh, and Reading have sent her a text to contact them."

"Oh, so will she be playing for England?" Were they being genuine or up to their old tricks again.

"She seems to think she has a good chance of a game."

"Right, good." I looked around and she wasn't there. "Where is she?" I asked.

"She's gone to bed, she was shattered, Mummy," Livvie informed me.

"What does resurrection mean, Daddy?" asked Meems.

"It means that your speech problem is cured, young woman."

"I knew that already, Daddy, the Golden Lady fixed it. But she said resurrection and I don't know what it means."

"How much are we paying that school?" he muttered to me. I smirked. "Jesus resurrected at Easter, Meems."

"I thought he rose from the dead, Daddy," she replied and he had great difficulty suppressing the laugh that was in danger of escaping.

"They mean the same, Meems," I said so he could pretend he needed the loo.

"Oh," she said, "you learn something every day," I walked away as if she was fifty, not ten.

I nipped up to Danni's room, she was lying in bed reading some football magazine. "You okay, kiddo?" I asked sitting down on her bed.

"I'm a bit disappointed but I'll live, besides, Reading may be interested in me and I like their set up. Chelsea's isn't as good, and Reading is nearer."

She was being so laid back about everything, it put me to shame.

"I'm proud of the way you're treating these two impostors just the same," I said quoting Kipling's If.

"Oh no, not bloody Kipling, even if he does make exceedingly good cakes," she said pretending to cringe.

"I used to like his poems even if they were a bit racist, they have to be seen in the context of his time, The British Empire was at its peak and beginning to wobble and the First World War started. His son was killed in that and he was never the same afterwards, unsurprisingly."

"Well you've never been the same since Billie died, have you?"

"No," I said and decided I didn't wish to raise that painful subject again. "Oh, when Meems and I took the flowers to the grave, I got the impression that Billie liked them."

"She did, she came and told us, she said Shekinah like them too but complained that you never took her flowers - I think she was just trying to wind you up, Mummy."

"I've taken flowers to that grave, many times."

"I know, Mummy, don't let it get to you, she loves you really?"

"Who Billie or the Shekinah?"

"Both, Mummy."

"That might explain a few things."

"Like what?"

"Me losing the plot."

"Eh?"

"Sophocles, I believe."

"Who's he when he's at home?"

"A Greek playwright who wrote, Antigone if I remember correctly."

"Wossat got to do with you losing the plot?" she asked yawning.

"Those whom the gods love, they first drive mad."

"Nah, not you Mummy, you've been bonkers for years." She sniggered and disappeared below the bedclothes which were registering her laughing by shaking.

"Yeah, looking after you lot, enough to drive you mad and back to sanity again."

"So don't worry then, It'll work itself out, won't it?" She disappeared again still laughing and I decided to show I knew when I was beaten.

I went to make myself a final cuppa knowing full well that I'd probably have to get up in the night to get rid of some of it. I offered one to Simon and Stella who'd just returned from the hospital. She's been doing some vaccinations.

"Where did you go?" Simon asked me.

"To say good night to Danni, why?"

"No reason, so no kiss tonight them?"

"No, cheeky little monkey implied I was so crazy I was becoming sane again."

"She could be right, old girl," said Simon smirking and Stella chuckled loudly. Some days I just can't win.