The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2606 by Angharad Copyright© 2015 Angharad

---

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.
@@@@@
“Lady Cameron, we’re transferring your husband to ICU.”

“Might we see him once he’s been transferred.”

“He’s very poorly, why don’t you and your daughter go and get something to eat or drink and pop down there in half an hour or so.”

“Fine. Come along Trish, let’s go and get a cuppa.” Which was what we did, actually, I had a cuppa and some carrot cake and she had a fruit drink with a KitKat. We sat and chatted until Trish asked if we could heal on him from this distance. “It could be done over any distance, why?”

“I think we should be doing it now—he needs us to do it, Mummy.”

“It feels that strong, does it?”

She nodded vigorously.

“Let’s do it, but we’ll go outside—too many people here.”

We wandered outside the building and found a quiet spot where the sun shone on us but we were protected from the seemingly endless winds which recently had caused some serious damage in places. I wondered if the jet stream was too far south again as we should be having better weather now.

I explained to Trish what I felt we should do and she seemed happy to go along with it. Basically, we stood and held hands imagining Simon was between us and that the light was surrounding him and being absorbed by his body. From there it was taken into his bloodstream and into his damaged heart. There I imagined it was repairing his heart and restoring it to normal.

After twenty minutes I felt we’d done enough—or as much as we could and we set off to go to intensive care or the coronary care part.

Allie was looking flustered as we went in, “Where’ve you been?”

“We went for a cuppa and a walk.”

“No, I mean just now.”

“We were walking out in the grounds.”

“You were here a couple of minutes ago with your husband. I saw you myself.” Trish was about to say something when I stopped her, “Yes but we popped out for a moment.” Unseen by Allie, Trish rolled her eyes.

“Why didn’t you tell her the truth?”

“She wouldn’t have understood.”

“How d’you know?”

“C’mon let’s see how Daddy is,” we sat down beside Simon and each grabbed one of his hands. The energy began to flow again and a short while later his eyes flickered open. He smiled and closed them again.

“Hang in there, Daddy; we’ll get you better.”

We left about half an hour or twenty minutes later, Allie drove us in my car. “That blue stuff you do is very clever,” she told us.

“We’ve been practicing.”

“Would it have knocked my socks off?” she asked.

I’d forgotten about my demonstration earlier. “It might have done.”

“You’re going to make him better, aren’t you?”

“We try to complement the doctors.”

“How is he?”

“A little better after our hiccup this afternoon.”

“Oh good; James phoned earlier.”

“Oh? What did he want?”

“They called the Russian ambassador to the Foreign Office.”

“Did they now. Do we know why.”

“He’s been told to call off his dogs.”

“Will he?”

“Who knows? According to James, if he doesn’t they’ll be sent home in body bags.”

“Does the FO usually talk in such terms?” I wasn’t convinced.

“That’s what he said, so I assume MI5 will stop talking and start doing.”

“Or give you license to go hunting,” I suggested in half jest as they’d effectively been doing so for the past week or two.

“Perhaps.”

We were driving towards home when a large van suddenly stopped in front of us and a BMW pulled right up behind us. Not even Allie could do anything to avoid the trap being sprung. Two men hopped out of the car holding handguns and I told Trish to drop to the floor behind the seats. “Whatever happens stay down there, okay?”

“Yes, Mummy,” she squeaked in a very quiet voice.

One of the gunmen approached each door calling for us to get out of the car. They stayed just far enough away to avoid being hit by the doors as we exited the vehicle. We stood with our hands raised, when one of them in trying to search Allie, got too close and she moved like a snake striking, it was so quick I barely saw it, but she grabbed him, shot him with his own gun and then shot the other one before he could react. Then she fired into the windscreen of the BMW which was reversing very quickly and at the driver’s side of the van. Both drove off at speed with her firing at both of them.

“The season is apparently open,” I said trying to stop my knees knocking.

“Yeah, but on them not you,” she said as sirens sounded in the distance. I bent over to check the man who was lying in the road. Part of his head was missing and there was a large pool of blood spreading in the road.

All I could think was that we’d be hours before we could get home.

“I called the police, Mummy—was that the right thing to do?”

“Well done, kiddo, that was exactly the right thing to do.”

She went to get out of the car and I told her to stay there and not look, of course she did exactly the opposite of what I said. “Ooh, cor that’s lots a blood isn’t it?”

Allie looked at me and then looked away. I was ready to fill my panties not knowing if they were just going to kill us or what and Trish is talking like someone who’s just walked out onto the beach and seen the sea not a scene of carnage. Does she just detach herself or has living with me caused her to become desensitised to such acts? I hoped not.

As predicted, we were taken off to the police HQ and questioned separately, except Trish, who stayed with me. Our stories should have checked out because we were telling the truth. Allie had permission to carry a concealed weapon given the risk status. That she didn’t use it but the two Russians were killed in the struggle seemed a huge coincidence. I wasn’t telling the exact truth because I suggested that Allie had tried to disarm the man and the gun had gone off and he’d been shot by his own gun and his mate was also shot in the ensuing scrap. The copper gave me an old fashioned look.

“Look, Lady Cameron, I know how serious this business is, but we can’t have people being shot on the streets of Portsmouth just because you live here.”

“Where would you like them shot then?” I threw back at him.

“I didn’t mean it literally,” he conceded.

“You shouldn’t have said it then. I’m British, I have a right to live wherever I like, that these murderous gangsters can just appear and try to kill me and my children is disgraceful. If you suggest I don’t have the right to defend myself or employ help to do so is doubly so.”

“It wasn’t you killing them this time was it?”

“Meaning what?”

“Nothing—but you don’t have to do the paperwork, do you?”

“If that’s your biggest concern, I tell you what—I'll fill in the forms and you can take your chances against the Russian secret service.”

“All right—I apologise—okay?”