The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike) Part 980 by Angharad Copyright © 2010 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

Simon had told Henry that it was Livvie’s birthday and the next morning which was her birthday, a parcel arrived by courier. It was a quarter to eight in the morning, I was making sandwiches when the door bell rang.

I answered it as much out of curiosity as anything; I mean, who calls at that time of the day?

“Parcel for Miss Livvie Richards,” the deliveryman handed me his handheld computer thing to sign.

“You’re up early,” I commented.

“Delivery instructions, to be here before oh eight hundred.”

“Mission accomplished,” I observed looking at my watch. He nodded to me and ran back to his van, before driving off into the rush hour traffic.

I put the parcel on the table with her other presents; the three girls eventually came down, singing happy birthday to Livvie. The boys had wrapped a trainer each and the girls had wrapped the new school bag. They’d all signed the card and that was waiting for her too. The boys arrived moments after the girls and we had all the variations of happy birthday, squashed tomatoes, etcetera.

I made them all eat breakfast first, then she unwrapped the presents. She was so excited she giggled all the way through the ordeal. The parcel from Henry she left until last–inside was a brand new i-pod. She was well pleased with that, mind you, so would I have been.

Tom popped out from his study and demanded a kiss from our birthday girl. She flung her arms around his neck and kissed him a smacker on his cheek. He then gave her a card and a present. I knew what was in that one, I’d bought it–the hair care set.

I finished the packed lunches, sent the boys to catch their bus and took the girls off to school, complete with her sackful of invitations. Stella hadn’t come down in time to give her her present before we left–I don’t know what that woman does some days–in fact most days.

I dashed back home to clear up and remind Julie we had an appointment with Stephanie at half past ten. She was in the shower, so at least she was awake–at least I presumed one couldn’t shower while sleep walking, but I hadn’t spoken to her so possibly I was wrong. I am about once a year.

I went up to change after clearing up the kitchen, I showered and changed into a skirt suit. Julie had yet to get a present for Livvie, so that would be the second thing on the agenda.

I dried and styled my hair, how did we manage before mousse and gels and stuff, I threw on some makeup, a squirt of perfume slip on my shoes and I was ready, inserting some drop earrings as I went down the stairs.

Julie was pouring herself some cereal into a dish. “You had remembered your appointment?” I asked her.

“What appointment–oh going out to lunch with Maureen?”

I scowled at her, “No, with Dr Cauldwell.”

“Oh no,” she raised her hands to her face and I knew she was trying to press my buttons.

“We have exactly an hour to get there, be ready in twenty minutes.”

“Yes, Mummy dear.”

“Less of the sarcasm or I’ll drop you off at A&E instead.”

“Why?”

“To see if they can put you back together.”

“Oh,” her face fell, “You’re quite violent aren’t you?”

“Me? Oh how could you say that? Now eat your cereal while you’ve still got enough teeth to chew.”

Unfortunately, she had just taken a mouthful of food and sprayed it all over the table.

“I hope you’re going to clean that up,” I half threatened.

“It’s your fault,” she replied, “making me laugh.”

“Well some folk will laugh at anything.” I put a couple of slices of bread in the toaster and waited for it to brown and pop out again. When you’re waiting it takes forever.

I made myself a banana toasted sandwich, which was actually rather nice and just hit the spot with another cuppa. As we finished Stella manifested in the kitchen. “Hurry up, Julie, we must be later than I thought,” I lobbed at her.

“Ha bloody ha, I didn’t sleep–okay.”

“Why?” I asked.

“I kept remembering my time with the Russians.”

“Oh–you okay now?”

“I have to be, you’re going out, aren’t you?” It didn’t take Sherlock Holmes to deduce Julie and I were wearing nicer clothes than we did for housework, and I was wearing makeup–Julie possibly had less on than she usually wears–makeup, I mean. She’s going through the teenage phase of slapping it on thick not realising it makes her look like something out of a silent film–Dracula..

“Yes, Julie has to see Stephanie.”

“Of course–I’d forgotten, is Maureen coming today?”

“She has to get some wood,” Julie said before disappearing upstairs presumably to add another layer of mascara.

I poured Stella some tea and she sat down looking shattered. “What’s all this?” she pointed to the debris of Livvie’s unwrapping. “Oh no, it’s her birthday–damn, I forgot all about it.”

“You bought her that bangle thing if you remember?”

“Yeah, I’ll have to wrap it and write the card. That wretched dream woke me about one, and I couldn’t get back to sleep afterwards.”

“Why didn’t you wake me?”

“You’ve had your hands full with Julie, haven’t you?”

“She stayed in her own bed last night, so hopefully she’s over the trauma for now.”

“Until Stephanie stirs it up again.”

“I hope not, because Simon should be home tonight, for Livvie’s birthday.”

“If the press will let him come.”

“If they don’t, I shall be very cross.”

“He had to do that press conference thing, it’s worth a fortune in advertising and brings in loads of new investors all hoping to make a fortune for nothing.”

“While my Simon slaves over a hot computer screen?”

“Probably–at least he doesn’t get as worried about being on the telly as he used to.”

“What was he on telly for?”

“He used to be the bank’s spokesman.”

“He was a bit young for that, wasn’t he?”

“Nah, he was the only one who could read Dad’s writing.”

Julie reappeared and we left. Having missed the rush hour, we made it to the clinic in good time. In fact she went in early because the previous one didn’t come. I sat and scanned the Guardian, but most of it was about the blessed election. Thank goodness Mima hadn’t noticed there was a general election in progress, she’d have a stroke trying to say it.

I started doing the crossword, it was more interesting than the news, the oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico was enough to make you want to weep, and of course it had to be BP didn’t it?

I glanced at my watch–crikey, Julie had been in there nearly an hour. I hope everything is okay. As if hearing my thoughts Stephanie’s door opened and she stepped out, “Cathy, could you come in a moment.”

I rose and walked to her door, Stephanie did not look happy. “Is everything all right?” I enquired.

“Not quite, um, come on in.”