The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike) Part 1487 by Angharad Copyright © 2011 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

“I hope you were joking about divorce,” I said slamming some pots and pans down on the worktop.

“What?” his voice rose a register. “Of course I was–you don’t think I let go the most wonderful thing that ever happened to me do you?”

“What’s that then–your Jaguar?”

“Damn, you guessed that too quickly, I must make it harder next time.”

“If you divorced me, I’m not sure you’d be able to afford a bicycle.”

“That sounds like a declaration of war, missus.”

“No, it’s a statement of intent. I only give my heart once, if that recipient chooses to chuck it all away, then I have nothing left–but my children, and to pursue the one who destroyed me, to their destruction.”

“You’re not joking are you?” his expression one of shock. I stormed out of the kitchen and upstairs, however, I didn’t throw myself upon the bed and cry my eyes out, I was angry and needed to vent that energy before I said or did something stupid. I changed into some cycling kit and after donning some bike shoes, went over to the bike store, got down the Scott and set it up on the turbo. I did some stretches and then ten minutes warm up, before I really got into it and spent the next hour exhausting myself, and crying. I warmed down for a further ten minutes, then wiped down the bike–you tend to sweat all over it–locked everything up and went upstairs.

I showered and with legs still aching, I went into the bedroom to dry my hair. Simon was in bed, reading the FT. He spoke to me but I couldn’t hear him for the hair dryer. I said so and he went quiet. I brushed my hair and pulled on my nightdress.

The weather was unseasonably warm, which was nice in the day, but could make sleeping difficult–I can’t sleep when I’m either too hot or too cold. I walked towards the bed, “You said something?”

“Yes, Babes, look I’m sorry.”

“I should think you are.” I huffed and got on top of the duvet.

“Am I forgiven?”

“I suppose so, but that doesn’t mean it’s forgotten.”

“I understand. But before we go to sleep, I have to say that I love you with all my heart, and that you are still the best thing in my life. I might be quite well off in financial terms as you well know, but you make me feel the richest man alive and I would die an emotional pauper if you ever left me.”

“Fine, okay, I heard you loud and clear. I don’t know what I feel at this moment other than very hurt. Sometimes your so called jokes cut me to the quick. That was one. I don’t understand why you make them, unless you actually think they’re funny. I don’t. You know how insecure I feel at times, I have some stupid woman who is making my life hell and you joke about divorce.”

“I thought you could see it was a joke.”

“I knew you were joking or pretending to, what I didn’t know was the thinking behind it. Were you tired of me on an unconscious level, was this wishful thinking or the half jest whole earnest stuff. I got very upset, I am now very tired and would like to go to sleep.”

“May I kiss you goodnight.” He asked like a teenage boy on his first date.

I offered him my cheek and from the corner of my eye could see his disappointment. He pecked me on the cheek, wished me goodnight, apologised again and said he loved me. In return, I simply said goodnight.

I was too warm to sleep and my legs which had been like jelly were now stiffening up and as I stretched one I got cramp and had to hop out of bed–usually walking around was enough to ease it, but not tonight, instead the cramp spread and I fell down trying to yell quietly because the pain in my leg was excruciating.

The bedside light went on as my writhing woke up Simon. “Babes?”

“I’m on the floor, arrgh my leg.” The pain shot through me and my leg started to contract involuntarily, my knee bending and the pain worsening, and I was powerless to stop it.

Simon stumbled over to me, “What’s the matter?”

“Cramp,” I gasped then squealed in agony again.

“Okay, hold tight,” he grabbed my leg and pulled it straight and I squealed quite loudly–it did hurt. Then he began twisting my foot which seemed to ease the pain in my calf–next he began squeezing and kneading the muscles in the back of my calf and then he started to do the same to the muscles in the back of my thigh, and finally the front of my thigh. The pain eased and I wiped my eyes. He helped me up, my leg still hurt but more from the after effects of torn muscle fibres and Simon’s enthusiastic massage.

“Thank you,” I said accepting his help.

“You’re welcome.”

“I feel wide awake now–fancy a cuppa?” I said making a peace offering.

“You rest your leg, I’ll go and make it,” he said moving to towards the door.

“Si, I think you need something on your bottom half–if the girls wake up you’ll frighten them to death.” I cautioned him seeing a certain engorgement of blood in a part of his anatomy.

“Yeah, need a wee.” He went to the bathroom, pulled on his bathrobe and slipped downstairs.

I limped onto the bed, wary of moving my leg and starting it off again–when I was supposedly training at uni, I used to get awful cramp especially after riding in cold weather in shorts–caused me to buy my first cycling tights–ladies’ ones, the men’s were too big. I also drank India Tonic Water because it had quinine in it which was supposed to help.

A little later, Simon emerged with the tray of tea and passed me a mug of the steaming fluid. “Okay now?”

“Yes thank you, I haven’t had cramp like that since I was training at Sussex.”

“What cycle training?”

“Yes, I was hardly going to make the rugby team, was I?”

“Don’t they have a ladies team?”

“I’ve no idea, I never really fancied getting slapped down in the mud or wet grass by some sixteen stone woman just because I had a ball in my hand.”

“Funny, that was one of my fantasies,” he said and I snorted tea all over myself.

Once I’d cleaned myself up–quick rub down with a tissue–and stopped coughing, I could see the funny side.

“Good grief, you nearly smiled at one of my jokes.”

“I don’t know who frightens me the more, you or Danny.”

“Frighten you? I thought you were fearless.”

“No, I’m just an ordinary woman who does have her share of fears and worries.”

He put his arm around me, “I know, my sweet, but I’ll always be there to help you.”

“I do hope so,” I said and kissed him as a tear rolled down my cheek, “I really do.”