The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike) Part 1089 by Angharad Copyright © 2010 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

After the recent run of tragedy, the gods of whatever, spared us the indignity of an officious policeman. The two who turned up were Andy Bond and a very nice WPC called, Trina.

By that time I’d carried the baby downstairs and was warming the milk. “Where’s Maria, Mummy?”

“She’s upstairs.”

“Can I go and see her?”

“I’m afraid not, sweetheart.”

“But maybe I could cheer her up again.”

“I’m afraid no one will ever cheer her up again, darling, she has died.”

Trish looked at me in total disbelief, “NO,” she shouted and ran upstairs before I could stop her. I had the baby in one hand and a bottle in the other, when the doorbell rang and in walked the police.

I handed the bottle to Andy and the baby to Trina, “Hold these, I have to bring Trish down.” I fairly flew up the stairs and found a sobbing Trish kneeling by the side of the deceased woman. “Come on darling, you can’t do anything more for her.”

“But the angel said she would be alright,” cried Trish, almost banging on the bed in anger.

“She is now, sweetheart. She no longer wanted to be alive, darling, and she believed she would be reunited with Paul and Daisy when she died.”

“Will she?”

I looked into her sad eyes, “I don’t know, sweetheart.” She let me take her hand and I picked her up and carried her downstairs.

Downstairs, Andy was feeding the baby, and as soon as we were back, Trina ran upstairs and I heard her talking on her radio. “What brings you here, Lady C?” asked Andy.

“I came to offer her a temporary home and a job.”

“Hello, young Trish,” he smiled at her.

“Hello, Mr Bond.”

Trina came down, “How long have you been here, madam?”

“Sorry, Treen, this Lady Catherine Cameron, and her daughter, the delightful Trish.”

“Lady Cameron, how long have you been here.”

“I don’t really know, about ten or fifteen minutes, I think.”

At this point we were distracted by baby Catherine giving an enormous burp and throwing up all over Andy’s uniform. Given the tension in the house, we all laughed.

I took over the baby feeding with Trish helping while Trina showed the note to Andy.

“Is this her writing?” he asked holding up the note.

“I don’t know, I can’t say I’ve ever seen it before, but when I read it, I assumed it was from her as it suggests. Why shouldn’t it be?”

“Just tying up loose ends, Cathy.”

“Have a look in her address book, that’ll give you something to compare it with.” I suggested.

“Good idea,” Trina replied and went looking for said book. “Got it,” she called from the hallway.

“What happens to the baby?” I asked.

“If your friend’s wishes are followed, she goes to you.”

“I’d like to take Trish home in a minute, if that’s alright?”

“Of course, we know where you live, Cathy.”

“What about the baby?”

“I’ve called Social Services, it’s the rules, I’m afraid,” Trina shrugged.

“Look while we’re waiting, can I get some advice from the maternity unit at the hospital.”

“About what?”

“This little mite, she was there until last night or this morning.”

“Oh, okay, carry on.” I carried the sleepy baby through to the hallway and looked up the hospital number. They offered some bottles of breast milk if I needed it and the name of a popular brand of formula baby milk.

I placed the baby in her carrycot and tucked her in, then began looking for spare clothing and nappies and began to pack a bag either for me or for the duty social worker.

A doctor arrived and certified the body as extinct of life, and the police could then arrange for it to be removed. I asked if I could go and wash her before she was moved, and Andy nodded. I pointed at Trish and he called her to him. Amazingly, Trina came and helped me.

The sad thing is, that upon death, bodies tend to void contents of bladders and bowels, and so need to be washed. After we’d done it, it struck me that perhaps Trina wasn’t necessarily being so nice, as vigilant–after all, if I’d killed her, I could be removing the evidence.

She went white when we rolled the body over and air was dislodged making a groaning noise. I knew it was coming, but it still made me jump a little. Afterwards I combed her hair and placed a clean nightdress upon her. I knew there’d be a post mortem, so this lovely young body would be cut about. I also stripped and remade the bed, removing the dirty linen to the washing machine.

I called Stella who asked Tom to collect some milk from the hospital for the baby, she was very upset to hear of the continuing tragedy. I decided if the baby was given to my safe keeping, I’d try to make sure we had some nice photos of her original family so she’d never lose a knowledge of her identity and her roots.

I found a card from an undertakers and called them, they were dealing with Daisy and Paul, they’d had a call from the police so were expecting to collect Maria as well.

“Who’s organising the funerals?”

“Until now, Mrs Drummond, is there a near relative?”

“I don’t think so, but I don’t honestly know, I’m prepared to do it for them, because I knew them and this is all so sad. If a relative or someone with more claim on the responsibility turns up, I’ll happily stand aside.”

“Well we’ll work with you then, Lady Cameron.”

“I’m also prepared to stand the cost if necessary.”

“I doubt anyone else will challenge you on that, my dear.”

“Daisy was going to be a bridesmaid for me–I was married months ago, but we’re having a formal blessing and I’d promised her she could be one of my bridesmaids.”

“That’s very sad.”

“Look, if I was to organise a dress and floral headdress could she be buried in it, so she’d finally get her wish?”

“I don’t see why not, unless someone else turns up to challenge it. I think it’s a lovely idea.”

“They’re Catholic, so that means burial doesn’t it?”

“Usually, but not always, if the lady is proven to have taken her own life, it might be an issue.”

“I think the coroner would find it would be while the balance of her mind was disturbed through grief and recent traumatic childbirth.”

“Oh the poor girl,” said the man from the undertakers.

“We’ve cleaned her up and put her in a clean nightdress.”

“The private ambulance is on its way.”

It arrived moments later, while a small crowd of neighbours gathered outside and net curtains twitched across the road. The body was removed and Trish had fallen asleep sitting on Andy Bond’s lap while we waited.

Finally a very harassed social worker arrived. “I have no idea where I’m going to place her, my usual neonate foster family are away this week.”

“I’m happy to take her, you can always come and get her from me if it’s deemed necessary.”

“Are you on our list?”

“Only a black one, why?”

“The deceased did leave a note requesting Lady Cameron had custody of the baby.”

“Oh did she now, why involve me then if you’ve decided everything?” she said very snottily.

“Because the law demands it. Personally, I can vouch for Lady Cameron as being a suitable person,” offered Andy Bond, “and we know where she lives.”

“What are you going to feed her on?”

“I asked my father to collect some breast milk from the bank at the hospital.”

“Oh so you assumed you were going to have her, did you?” she asked aggressively.

“On the contrary, I knew how busy you’d be, so thought I could save you a few minutes if you felt you had to remove her. She’ll want another feed within an hour, and this time she’ll need changing.”

“You mean you didn’t change her when you fed her?”

“No, she went off to sleep and the nappy wasn’t dirty, just a bit of wee in it.”

“There are some clean nappies, I take it?”

“Of course there are, Maria might have been distraught about the death of her husband and daughter, but she was a good mother.”

“Oh, she’s that Mrs Drummond?”

“Yes, her husband and daughter were killed a few days ago.”

“Oh, poor girl, you may take the baby with you until more permanent arrangements are made. Be prepared for an inspection, she is very young.”

“Very well–look I’d like to see if I can assemble an album of photos of her real family so she knows who she is, is that okay?”

“Jolly good idea–you’ve done this before, haven’t you?”

“I have several adopted children. I try to encourage them to be true to themselves.”

“Take good care of her, won’t you?” she offered me her hand and I shook it warmly.

“I will, I hope your day improves.”

She looked at the sleeping baby and stroked her face, “You be good for your new foster mum, won’t you.” Then to me she said, “She’s gorgeous isn’t she?” I nodded. “Her name is the same as yours, isn’t it–is that a coincidence?”

“No, it’s the greatest honour I’ve ever been accorded.” I sniffed when I remembered Paul telling me.

“Good girl,” she nodded and left to bustle up someone else’s path.

Andy went and got my car, Trish helped me pack everything we could find for the baby, including a collection of photos of Daisy and Paul and Maria. I even took their slim volume of wedding photos. I wanted the name of the priest who married them if the undertakers knew it. He’d be the right one to do the funeral.

Then after we packed up the car, Tom arrived with the milk and took a few more things, then the police locked up the house and we drove away back to our house. I was exhausted, but determined if necessary to fight legally to honour Maria’s last request–to look after her baby.