The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike) Part 1278 by Angharad Copyright © 2011 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

“Why is Auntie Stewwa so cwoss?” asked Mima.

“I think probably because she feels under a lot of stress, she has lots going on in her life and some of it is pretty big stuff, like getting married and having a baby.”

“Did you get stwessed when you got mawwied?”

“Yes I did, but for different reasons.”

“What was different with you getting married?” Trish joined in as the pack circled me.

“Lots, mine was a total surprise–I didn’t know until minutes before we were even getting married.”

“Oh yeah,” Trish smirked, “we all helped Daddy keep the secret, didn’t we?”

“Yes, for the first time ever.” I pretended to be cross with them but they all saw through it.

“Can we all be bridesmaids next time?”

“Next time?” I queried.

“Yes when you get married again.”

“Again–you think I do this twice?”

“Yes, you said–up in Scotland–you promised.” Trish seemed upset now. It looked as if it was going to be one of those days.

“Oh the blessing–yes, of course you can all be bridesmaids.”

Danny cleared his throat deliberately, “All of us?” he asked.

“Well, okay you can be maid of honour if you like,” I replied.

“Yeah, ’course.” He blushed and shook his head. I was going to ask Simon if we could find some sort of role for Danny. The problem was he was too old to be a page boy but too young to be best man, although as it was only a blessing not an actual marriage, perhaps it wouldn’t matter so much.

Now the sixty four dollar question was, did Stella want my brood as bridesmaids or did my recent squabble with her make that unlikely. I said nothing. If they were getting married in Stanebury, then perhaps we could do two for the price of one? It seemed remote for the way she was acting at the moment. In truth, I wondered if she was heading more for the clinic than the altar. Poor Stella, she doesn’t seem to have much luck.

Sensing my concern, Danny went towards the stairs, “Want me to see if she’s okay?”

I nodded, “Be careful, she can be a bit unpredictable.”

I was almost having visions of Psycho when the private eye gets slashed at the top of the stairs by Anthony Perkins in drag. That was the first time I’d heard the word transvestite, I think. I watched it at a friend’s house we were about eight at the time and I had nightmares for ages afterwards–but I could hardly tell my mother I’d been watching a Hitchcock film, could I?

I’ve never wanted to see it since or the remakes which are poor imitations. I wouldn’t go near the shower for ages either and if the screeching music had started–I’d have died on the spot without any loony with a carving knife. Mind you I wasn’t too fond of going swimming after seeing Jaws, either. The closest we got was one day down on the Gower coast, can’t remember which beach and a seal swam past–everyone except me stampeded out of the water. It was the first seal I’d seen in the wild.

The sound of a vehicle came from the drive and Gareth’s Land rover hove into view. Moments later I was admitting him through the back door. We had a quick conflab out of earshot of the kids and as we finished Danny came downstairs.

“I think she’s calming down now,” he announced and went off to the lounge.

“Good luck,” I wished Gareth as he went up the stairs.

I waited with bated breath as he disappeared from view and moments later he called me to come and take Puddin’. I rushed up the stairs and took my niece from his arms. “Is she alright?” He nodded and went back into Stella’s room.

Puddin’ was a bit upset by the morning’s events and it took me a while to calm her down. In the end, we all wrapped up and went out into the garden. Jenny arrived at this point and wondered why I had Puddin’. I explained Stella was very stressed and had thrown a wobbly. She nodded and after taking her bag into the house came out and played with the girls. I was pushing baby C in her pram while Puddin’ was sitting on the end of the pram on a pram seat.

We watched Jenny running about the garden with the older girls and laughed at their antics which were accompanied by much squealing, shrieking and laughter. We went back in after about twenty minutes, they were all puffing and panting and red faced–it is still February.

I made them all drinks and put the kettle on. Jenny took her bag upstairs and called to see if Gareth or Stella wanted a cuppa. Neither replied. She came back down and told me.

Fearing the worst, I rushed up the stairs and forced open the door. They were both lying on the bed, Stella was asleep and Gareth was lying beside her. He waved me away and I retreated quietly closing the door behind me. Perhaps he was better at this than I thought.

I drank the tea Jenny had made and we sat and made small talk at the same time fully aware we were avoiding the elephant in the room. Gareth came down and I shut the door to keep the children out.

“She’s sleeping now–she’ll be okay for a bit,” he reported.

“Thanks, I couldn’t seem to calm her down today, usually I can,” I felt totally useless.

“Nah, that’s okay, she told me all about her problems before–including trying to kill you, and then herself. She told me you’d saved her life at least twice and she loved you like her sister. She asked me to apologise for what she said and did earlier but she was very upset about Puddin’ getting out of the bedroom.”

“You seemed to have a magical way with you,” remarked Jenny.

“Not magical, it’s practice. I worked in a mental hospital when I was at uni. I used to do evenings, weekends and the holidays. I got used to talking psychotics out of killing themselves or each other.”

“Oh well, if ever I get psychotic, send for Gareth, won’t you, Jenny?”

“Will we be able to tell the difference?” she snapped back at me.

“Huh, there’s appreciation for you,” I said in a very poor Welsh accent.

“Look yer butt,” said Gareth in a proper Welsh accent, “arre yew tryin’ to take the piss, like?” Thankfully he winked which let me know he was joking.

“Oh well, it’ll soon be St David’s day.” I observed.

“Indeed it will,” he said, “I hope you’ll all wear your daffodils.”

“Eh?” Jenny looked perplexed.

“National flower of them who couldn’t swim the Severn,” I teased.

He pretended to glare at me. “It could be argued the other way round–that Bristol is full of failed Welshmen.”

“What?” I pretended to be horrified, “that’s like calling a Canuck a Yankee.”

“What’s a Canuck?” Jenny asked, thus destroying all the intellectual teasing Gareth and I were doing to each other.

“I’m going to enjoy having you as a sister in law,” he smiled, “Better go and check on my patient.”

“You’ll have to watch him, he’s a right charmer,” Jenny observed.

“It might be he, who is at risk from half the females in this house,” I smirked then blushed when I remembered how tongue tied I’d been the first time he’d come to dinner here.