Dinner is served, for Greg, Cathy looks like the main course....

Easy As Falling Off A Bike.
by Angharad
part 69.

I stood waiting at the door, the coolness of the night was beginning to pervade the thin top I was wearing and I became aware of my nipples standing out.

The door opened and behind it stood a middle aged man, "Well hello, you must be Catherine?" He sounded like Leslie Phillips and my heart dived into my boots, I just hoped this wasn't going to end up like some 'Carry On' film. "Do come in," I could feel his eyes burning through me as I entered the house.

Margaret arrived and saved the day, "Hello Catherine, how is your father?"

I handed her the flowers, "I'm not sure, I hope to speak with the sister or a doctor tomorrow. I don't know if they should be mobilising him or if he should rest."

"He looked very rough when we saw him yesterday and he was very confused too."

"I think he knows which way is up, but his speech difficulty is causing great frustration. Daddy never was very patient, this must be driving him crazy."

"Thank you for the flowers, I'll just pop them in some water. Greg stop staring at Catherine and get her a drink."

He scuttled off into the dining room and called, "Red or white?"

I'd brought a bottle of Beaujolais. "Red please," I replied, I hoped it would be a decent one.

"Here my dear, Oh I'm Greg by the way."

"I gathered that much, I'm Cathy."

"Pleased to meet you Cathy," we shook hands and he had a quick peep at my cleavage. I know I was going to have to get used to being objectified, as all women are by some men, but I didn't have to like it. At the same time part of me felt a little frisson of excitement. It was so easy to get men all hot and bothered.

Greg led me into the lounge and offered me a seat, I sat awaiting instruction from Margaret as to when dinner would be ready. If he was supposed to be entertaining me, he wasn't doing much of job. I decided to engage his conscious mind rather than his fanciful one.

"Margaret tells me you've not known my father very long."

"Haven't counted, a few months or so. Yeah, he's a good bloke, must be he supports Gloucester."

"Yes Margaret said you were a cricket buff."

"Well I like to watch the game although all this short version stuff is killing the county game. The problem is the young oiks can't keep their attention span for longer than twenty overs. Do you watch it?"

"Not really, watched some of the Ashes, but I prefer cycling."

"What all that drugs and shaved legs brigade?"

"They don't all do drugs, and the fact that the offenders are being caught, shows that the sport is trying to do something about it."

"Maybe, I'm not convinced. What about the drugs they haven't got tests for yet?"

"Wherever you have lots of money or prestige, there will always be those to try to get them by any means possible. There will always be cheats, the answer is not to let them."

"Do you cycle then?"

"Yes, a bit."

"What a racer?"

"I've got a road bike and a mountain bike."

"Do you race?"

"I took part in a bike race on Sunday, albeit an unofficial one for the university against Southampton."

"How did you do?"

"I didn't win, but I did okay."

"You have to do much training for that?"

"I do a couple of hours twice a week when I can."

"What sort of distance is that, a couple of hours?"

"Between thirty and forty miles, depending upon terrain."

"Thirty and forty miles in two hours, I'm impressed."

"Serious riders do more than that."

"Serious, so what are you then?"

"I'm on the fringes, I may do more if the time or fancy take me."

"Right, well from where I'm standing it certainly keeps you looking trim."

"Yes, that and the karate." I was lying but I wanted to see his reaction.

"Karate? Hardly ladylike my dear."

"No but it helps keep me fit and also helps keep some of the dross at bay. No one has pinched my bum and lived to tell the tale."

"I can well believe that," he replied rising to get another glass of wine, "Top up?" he asked brandishing the bottle.

"Oh, this is towards dinner," I offered up my bottle of wine.

"Thanks," he said taking the bottle out of the bag, "New Season eh? Jolly good, I'll open it and let it breathe." As he was doing so Margaret called us to eat.

Greg helped me to my chair and slid it in behind me. I nodded my thanks. "Cathy here is a black-belt at Karate and cycling," he reported to his wife.

"I'm not a black-belt, nor is there such a thing in cycling," I tried to make it sound as if he'd made a joke, which he might have done.

"She's an expert in both."

"Really, So did you go to watch the Tour of France thingamy when it was over here? Can't think how they can call it that when it goes into other countries." Margaret tried to sound interested.

"Oh yes, I helped to marshall it on the sunday from London to Canterbury."

"So what did that involve?"

"Getting up very early, standing around for hours and when the race came through, trying to stop the spectators from standing in the way."

"Did you wear your black-belt?" asked Greg.

"No, I wore jeans with a red belt, and a high viz waistcoat."

"Do help yourself to vegetables Catherine. What's a high viz waistcoat?"

"Thank you Margaret, it's one of those reflective orange or yellow things to help motorists and other road users see you. It also made it obvious who was helping and who was simply spectating."

"I see, one of those fluorescent things?"

"Exactly." I helped myself to some potatoes and carrots while Greg held the serving dish, then to some cabbage.

"So that was the Tour de France, what about the Milk race or whatever they call it these days?" asked Greg as he passed the gravy boat.

"The Tour of Britain, is what they call it these days. It's good but much smaller than the TdF, and run on a shoestring."

"So did you help with that as well?"

"I did, but they ask for their vests back."

"Oh the French give 'em away, do they?"

"Yes. These chops are lovely Margaret." The pork was succulent and the veg and gravy delicious.

"Thank you Catherine, I'm glad you're enjoying it."

"Very much."

"Do you cook much?"

Although I seemed to be talking primarily to Margaret, I was aware of Greg's eyes on me the whole time, it was quite uncomfortable. "A bit, but cooking for one isn't much fun and my facilities are pretty basic."

"Don't you cook for your boyfriend?" I felt almost as if Margaret was asserting her dominance in her territory as I had done earlier.

"Not really, maybe when I get the chance to I might, but not where I'm living now. Not enough room." I felt defensive and I suspect she knew it.

"What does he do?" asked Greg.

"Who, Simon?"

"If that's his name?"

"He works in a bank."

"What a clerk or assistant manager?"

There was no way I was going to say what he did, so I lied again. "I think he's in management, but he isn't allowed to talk about it and I'm not too keen on the idea myself. I mean he never asks me about my mammal studies."

"You study mammals?" asked Greg.

"Yes, dormice and harvest mice."

"What, they give you a degree for that?" he poo pooed the very idea.

"Yes, I'm hoping a doctoral one in three years, I've just been told my masters is accepted."

"What, a masters degree in dormice?"

"Yes, they are an endangered species. Have you ever seen one?"

"No, I can't say I have."

"They are very secretive and shy creatures, very difficult to find. I spend much of my time out mapping their numbers and territories."

"You don't say." Greg was obviously bored with mammals, but I wasn't.

"Yes, I'm hoping to get a government grant to do my doctoral degree on studying their populations with regard to climate change."

"Is that really good use of public funds, counting dormice?" asked Greg in a distinctly off hand manner.

"Yes, I think it is. If we don't study our environment how are we going to know how much we are destroying."

"Yes but for few dormice, I mean who cares?"

"I do for one." I was beginning to get a little cross with the old tosser.

"Fair enough old girl, keep your hair on."

"Without earthworms and bees, this planet would be almost dead. There are epidemics affecting each species, without research we'll never be able to save them and ourselves into the bargain."

"What? I never eat honey, so it won't affect me." Greg was dismissive again.

"The potatoes, carrots and cabbage you ate, did you enjoy them?"

"Yes of course I did, what's that got to do with bees?"

"Not as much as it does with earthworms. They aerate the soil. If they didn't, within ten or so years it wouldn't grow very much, so you could say goodbye to your veg. Your meat too, there'd be less grass."

"Nah science would sort it."

"Not necessarily. I'm a scientist and it's far better to try and preserve the status quo, it works better than anything we could devise. After all it's had millions of years for evolution to make it efficient."

"That's another thing, evolution. It's only a theory."

"It has loads of evidence to show it's more than a theory."

"If you say so my dear, you know more about these things than I do." Greg patronised me and I felt like kicking his shins under the table. "What's for pudding dear?" he asked his wife.

"Profiteroles."

"My favourite," said Greg smirking.

The evening wore on and he got more boorish and boring. Once or twice I felt like slapping him, but then I wondered if they deserved each other. Superficially they were nice like my parents, but when you got a bit deeper they showed they were full of all sorts of prejudice and bias. Maybe it was the age difference, but they seemed old fashioned and bigoted to me.

I was extremely glad to help Margaret in the kitchen to clear up, while Greg finished the bottle of wine and fell asleep. "Look at him, when he's asleep he's like an angel, when he's awake he's a pain in the neck."

"I think lots of men are like that," I offered giving her benefit of my vast inexperience on the subject, "and I suppose they say the same about us."

She gave me a strange look for a moment as if I had no right to say that, then shook her head and made us some coffee. It was a very tasty meal and well cooked but I would not be accepting their hospitality again.