The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2747 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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“How can I settle to do this while that maniac is out there, Mummy?”

“If he’s still out there then it means he’s unemployed.”

“What difference does that make, he’ll just sell his crap to someone else.”

“Not in this country—there’s an injunction on it and Jason seemed to think the judge was very irritated by someone looking to expose a minor.”

“What being too young has helped me?”

“Yes, the judge deemed that although your appearance in a national side made some interest in you by the general public reasonable; because you were only fourteen, it was illegal to reveal anything more than a very basic amount about you, such as was shown in the official programme and website—namely, who you were, your age and the club you played for. Anything else was considered intrusive.

“The judge also agreed with the official line that you had qualified as being legally your new gender and thus required you to be shown as that alone, anything else he deemed as unnecessary disclosure and in breach of the guidelines for reporting of minors.”

“Wossat mean?”

“They can’t reveal your previous gender.”

“Oh, so there’s no story?”

“Not in this country.”

“What about in the country we play next?”

“That’s a point, when I speak to Jason I’ll ask him but I suspect he won’t be able to do much about that. Besides you have to get yourself back into the squad, don’t you?”

“I’ll do that, Mummy, don’t you worry.”

“Good, you’re training tonight.”

“Am I? What about this creepy reporter guy?”

“If he shows up, he’ll get a surprise.”

She looked bemused.

“Do your homework,” I said going off to start up my own computer and do something similar. I’d told Diane I was coming in due to a family emergency and to email me anything urgent. I had eight enquiries to deal with.

The day dragged on and I dealt with my paperwork, ate a delicious lunch that David produced—he’s a genius. We had jacket potatoes with flaked salmon in watercress sauce and a shredded cabbage. He realised that Danielle would be out tonight training and gave her a larger portion, her supper would be a snack. As I’d be out as well, I could have had the same but I’m trying to cut down my intake a little, my jeans were getting just a trifle too close fitting.

At six she and I got into the Jaguar and set off for the training ground. I would watch her like a hawk. If I spotted anyone taking photos of her or trying to speak to her, they’d be in trouble—I could call the police, they’d be in contempt of court and liable to be arrested and with me calling them, I knew they’d respond quickly.

I watched the girls training and despite her temporary absence Danni seemed able to keep up with all the others. When they started playing each other or practising set piece moves she looked a class above the others and her bendy free kicks were quite special. None of the others were capable of anything like them. Trish had tried to explain the physics but I wasn’t interested—to me it was magical and I wanted her to maintain the ability to stroke a ball round corners like some teenage sorceress.

I spotted our reporter and then lost him in the darkness beyond the floodlights. However, he tried to confront us as we walked back towards the car. I gave Danielle the car keys and told her to get in the car while I dealt with our intruder.

“She used to be a boy, didn’t she?”

“I don’t have to answer that and you have no right to ask it. You are in breach of an injunction and I shall call the police.”

“By the time they get here, I’ll be long gone and you know it.”

“Why are you persisting in chasing her? What has she done to you?”

“If we’re playing boys in a girl’s team aren’t we cheating, so don’t the public deserve to know?”

“She isn’t a boy and the FA seem happy with that fact. So why are you pursuing it?”

“It’s my job—it’s what I do.”

He didn’t see James walk up behind him until he felt a hand on his shoulder. “My colleague is just pursuing his job—he kills people.” The reporter literally lost control of his bowels and dropped his camera before he sort of waddled at high speed in his squelchy trousers back to his car. James had got the number and from that we had a name and address.

I spoke to the police who laughed at the fright the man had received but cautioned against suggesting I was going to have him killed. I did suggest that I didn’t say directly that was what would happen, I left it to his imagination. I also surrendered his camera to them—a nice Pentax digital SLR which had mysteriously lost its memory card.

I told them I would serve the injunction on him by bailiff and inform him where his camera was. They suggested if he came to claim it, he’d be confirming he was in contempt of court as his editor had already been served one and had agreed to call his reporter back in. Either way, one or other of them was in contempt and I suggest the editor would drop his reporter in it, very quickly.

James had identified a name and address, the next thing would be investigating his credit worthiness and systematically destroying it. I now walked away from the whole thing, once the slightest mistake was discovered, it would be, we’d employ a very determined debt recovery firm to harass him for the next few months—it would let him know what it was like to be hunted, possibly in a way which seemed unjustifiable to him—exactly the same emotion felt by my daughter. I’d leave James to decide when we’d harassed him enough, but bankruptcy seemed like a reasonable end point. James nodded wryly—there were times when he enjoyed his work.

I only had to reconcile my conscience with my actions, or should that be the other way round? I hadn’t actually hurt anyone but the man had been unable to appreciate my point of view. When we did call off the dogs, so to speak, I would ask James to let him know that he would now understand how his victims felt.

I accepted my angelic status—what a laugh that is—would naturally be compromised but I’d accept that if it put the word about that it was not a good idea to threaten my family. Jason would also make sure the board of the newspaper and its editor recognised how close they’d come to all being in court for contempt and would continue to remind them for the next few months.

If that’s abuse of power or position or even wealth, I plead guilty, but sometimes you have to take the fight back to your enemies or risk being seen as an easy target. To myself, I can justify my actions and those of my agents.