The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike) Part 1127 by Angharad Copyright © 2010 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

I eventually pulled myself together and drove home after my reverie. I needed to make some more bread amongst other things. I made a new loaf and after a few more chores, lunched with Jenny and Stella on tuna salad. I fed the wee yin, and put her down after playing and talking to her. She’s becoming much more responsive and gurgles when she sees me. I suppose she thinks I’m a walking milk churn.

Stella had some shopping to do and offered to pick up the girls as she had to pass the school. I accepted her offer and soon after she went I set off to collect Danny from his school, something I don’t think I’ve done more than very occasionally. It was raining and I knew he’d be pleased to see me.

I parked as near as I could and watched for him but didn’t see him exit the building at all. He wasn’t at the bus stop, so where was he–football practice? I waited around and there was no sign of him–I was now feeling very concerned.

I walked into the building and there were now very few people about at all. It felt so strange to be in a relatively modern school and feel a total detachment from it. My own was an old building and wholly inadequate but we managed. How I’d manage in this place, I didn’t like to think. It had no character or soul–that was it, no soul to the place, no genius.

“Can I help you?” said a quiet voice from behind me but it made me jump all the same.

“Yes, I’m looking for my son, Danny Maiden.”

The voice belonged to quite an attractive middle-aged man who was running his eye up and down me with an expression declaring me to either be older than I looked or to be lying. “Daniel Maiden, hmmm, I think he’s in detention, please wait here I’ll be straight back.” He walked off briskly up the corridor leaving me to ponder why Danny was in detention–I hoped it wasn’t fighting again.

No more than five minutes later, the man returned with Danny. I knew something was amiss when Danny refused eye contact with me–was it just a bit of embarrassment?

“Would you care to come into my office for a moment, Mrs Maiden?” and he led us through a door marked, R E Edwards, Deputy Headmaster.

He indicated I should sit and Danny was made to sit beside me. “Well, Mrs Maiden...”

“I’m not Mrs Maiden, my name is Cameron, Danny is adopted.” I felt myself growing warm, yet the teacher blushed even brighter than I.

“I’m terribly sorry, Mrs Cameron, Danny has been in trouble for fighting.”

“I see–do we know who started it?”

“Danny?” Mr Edwards gave my boy a chance to say something at last.

“It was after practice, I was in the showers and some shit took my boots. I think it was Mowlam, an’ I confronted him.”

“Someone took your new football boots?”

“Yes,” he said in a very choked voice and started crying.

“This is the first I’ve heard of this theft–are you sure you had them with you?” Edwards asked the boy.

“He did, because he left home with them this morning–I only bought them for him yesterday, and they cost over a hundred pounds. So I hope you’re going to make every effort to recover them.”

“Mrs Cameron, I assure you we will do everything to investigate this matter, which I’d prefer to keep between us.”

I handed him my card, the posh one.

“Lady Cameron? No relation to the banking people?”

“Yes, my father in law is the chairman. If necessary, I want the police involved, and I’d like you to get back to me on this within the week or I shall start asking embarrassing questions on high. Thank you, Mr Edwards, I’ll take him home now if you don’t mind.”

I left, grabbing Danny by the hand and half dragging him back to the car. Back in the privacy of the car I asked Danny to explain what had happened. He’d done his training in his games session after lunch and left his kit by the bench as he always did and went to shower. When he came back his new boots were missing. He didn’t know who had taken them but he didn’t like this boy, Gregory Mowlam, who was always teasing him and was a bit bigger, but Danny jumped on him when Mowlam asked him if he’d lost something and found it funny. They both got detention, but the games teacher wouldn’t allow Danny to say his boots had been taken. I was very cross at this but when I saw Mr Edwards driving hastily out of the staff car park, I decided it would wait until the morning.

“Hopefully, we’ll get them back–if not, we’ll have to get you some more.”

“I’m sorry, Mummy, I really am,” he sobbed and I put my arm round him and gave him a quick hug before we drove home. This incident had really upset him, and because he was upset, so was I–and when that happens things take note.

We drove for the most part in silence until Danny looked at me and smirked, “Did you see old Eddy’s face when he read your card, ‘Lady Cameron’,” he chuckled as he mimicked the Deputy Head. “He’ll learn you don’t mess with us Camerons, especially my mum.”

“Hopefully he’ll do his job and we’ll get the boots back undamaged.”

“Yeah or you’ll get him.”

“Danny, I don’t get people, I’m a responsible adult, we don’t do things the way you do them in the playground. Having said that, if I need to exert a little pressure on him to achieve our end; I will.”

“Yeah, you’ll get him.”

“That makes me sound like the Godfather, I won’t get him, I’ll simply remind him that I’m waiting for the results of his investigations.”

I stopped on the way back to buy him some cheaper boots. If he was playing that regularly, he’d need another pair–they weren’t that much cheaper, but at least I knew he could continue doing something he enjoyed.

“Thanks, Mum, you’re the best mum in the world.”

“No I’m not, but I try to do my best, which at times is sadly lacking.”

“No one else would have bought me more boots after I lost the first pair.”

“Let’s not go down that road, shall we? It’s important that you keep playing because I know how much you enjoy it.”

“It’s the thing I enjoy most.”

“Yes, I know–don’t lose those ones, or you’ll have to buy the next ones yourself.”

“I won’t, Mum, I promise I’ll keep these under lock and key if I need to.”

“Oh, and no more fighting–it doesn’t become a Cameron.” I knew I was lying, I’ll bet Simon’s ancestors were out bashing seven bells out of each other with great big claymores only a couple of hundred years ago–while mine were inventing steam engines–only joking, I have no idea if I’m related to James Watt or not, probably not.