The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2722 by Angharad Copyright© 2015 Angharad

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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.
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“Where’s David?” asked Stella as she saw me making lunch.

“I just sacked him.”

She began to laugh, “That’s really funny, now where is he?”

“I had an altercation with him, he showed total disloyalty to me and spoke outside his remit, so I told him to go.”

“You’re not joking are you?”

“No I’m not.”

“Bugger.”

“If that’s how you feel, think how I do, I’ve got to cook again.”

“What about Helen and Lorraine?”

“I suspect they could do basics, but we’ve been spoilt with David.”

“Can’t you take him back?”

“Not after what he said.”

“Tell me what happened,” she badgered and while I made the soup I did.

“So according to Hannah, Ingrid tried to sell her to a paedo ring?”

“I don’t think she understood quite what that meant, but yes that’s what she told me, and David had the temerity to suggest I’d planted it in her head so she could tell social services and the police.”

“It does happen.”

“Gee thanks.”

“But it’s not something you’d do—you play fair.”

“Thank you.”

“Yes, dumb but fair.” She snorted and it lost its dramatic moment. “I can’t believe he’d accuse you of that.”

“He’s probably on the phone to Ingrid right now.”

“After all you’ve been through, you’ve supported him countless times.”

“That appears to be forgotten, not that I’d rub his nose in it.”

“No, but I would—watch my two will you,” with that she was out the backdoor before I could do more than gasp. I called Danni and asked her to watch Pud and Fiona until Stella came back.

“Where’s David?”

“He’s not here.”

“Duh, I can see that, Mummy.”

“Go and watch those girls.”

“It’s okay, Trish was doing smear tests on them.”

“What?”

“I’m joking, she’s taking blood—only a couple of pints from each.”

“She’s colouring.”

“Musta been Livvie then.”

“Go and watch Stella’s girls.”

“Oh all right,” she ambled off in a pair of heels that I’m sure she’d pinched from Julie.

“And don’t fall off those heels.”

“I can walk in them, easy peasy—so there,” she said coming back to the kitchen.

“You won’t if Julie sees you wearing them.”

“I asked her first, so there.”

“That would be a first.”

“Ha ha, very funny,” drifted back from the empty doorway.

I added the lentils to the chicken stock I was boiling and then the carrots and onion, plus garlic, a bit of salt and pepper and some diced potato before turning it down to simmer. Turning my attention to chopping up the chicken thighs, pre-cooked ones, I didn’t notice Stella return. I almost dropped the two dishes I had of skin and other inedible bits when I saw her standing before me with David. I placed them down for the dog and cat and waited for one of them to speak—not the dog or cat—doh.

“David has something to say,” said Stella and looked at him.

“I’d like to apologise, Cathy. I was out of order.”

“What would you have me do assuming I accept your apology?”

“That’s up to you, but I’d understand if you want me to go.”

I stirred the meat into the soup for something to do as much as anything else. “I’d like to think about it. I’d also like you to think about it and come back and see me this evening, say seven o’clock.”

“Okay, seven it is—you don’t want me to make dinner?”

“No, we’ll order a take away.”

He left looking very circumspect.

“That’s his punishment is it, make him stew all afternoon?”

“Not at all. I sacked him and want to think about what happens next, at least from my point of view.”

“I just read the riot act to him and told him I thought I could save his job.”

“Stella, while I appreciate your concern over the loss of a very good member of staff, it’s my decision as to whether he works here or not and at the moment he doesn’t.”

“So I wasted my time then?”

“No, he apologised and possibly has seen the light, I don’t know, I’ll find that out tonight, but until then he is still an ex-employee.”

“I don’t know why I bother.” She marched off in a huff. I knew why, she likes her stomach and as I’ve said before, David is a very good cook. However, I needed to talk things over with Simon before I offered him his job back or completely terminated his employment.

While the soup was cooking I went to the study and called Andy Bond. I was aware he’d been a bit off last time we’d met but I hoped he’d be professional about possibly reporting child abuse.

“Lady Cameron,” he said very formally when he answered the phone.

“Mr Bond, thanks for taking my call.”

“How can I help?”

I related what Hannah had said to me and his demeanour changed immediately. He asked if she’d been sexually assaulted and I told him I didn’t know and that effectively I was asking his advice about what I did next. I also mentioned the exchange between David and myself and his accusations of planting memories.

“It has happened, but I can’t believe you’d do anything like that anyway. We’ll need to involve social services plus a child psychologist ...”

“Or Stephanie Cauldwell?” I posited.

“I’m sure she’d be fine if expensive.”

“The children in this house get the best I can afford.” I avoided saying ‘my children’, so as not to suggest any takeover plans for Hannah, even though Hannah was making them.

“I’ll need to set up a meeting. As this is historical stuff, she’s not at risk at present so it’ll have to be next week by the time everyone can get together.”

“What here?”

“Might be best if she feels threatened by any of it.”

“Will you contact Dr Cauldwell?”

“Can do.”

He rang off and I went back to my soup and as I stirred it I had a sudden strange feeling about David. I turned off the gas and ran down to his cottage. I rang the bell but he didn’t answer, the door was unlocked and I ventured inside.

“David?” I called but there was no answer. I ran upstairs and he was hanging from the spar in the attic. His face was turning blue. I rushed downstairs and grabbed his chef’s knife and rushed back up the stairs cutting the rope by standing on the chair, then hoping he didn’t hurt himself hitting the floor.

I tore off the rope collar he’d been wearing and getting him flat began CPR, urging the blue light to keep him alive. “You stupid, man,” I said as I pumped his chest, “what were you thinking of?”

He gave a slight gasp and began breathing. I felt his rather bruised throat and he had a pulse. His eyes flickered open. I didn’t know how much he could see but I suspected he could hear more than he saw.

“How d’you feel?” I asked.

“Why didn’t you let me die?”

“I changed my mind about takeaways tonight.”

“Oh,” was all he said, as I watched the bruising and grazes fade around his neck. By the time I left he was able to sit up and drink some water. He also promised he wouldn’t try to repeat his experiment. I helped him down the stairs and made him some tea.

“I’ll see you at seven to discuss terms and conditions of your future employment.”

“I thought we were going to discuss...”

“Terms and conditions, one of those is actually staying alive on the job.”

He forced a smile, “Okay, boss.”

“I’ll send some soup over.”

“Cathy?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you.”

I nodded and left.