The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 3084 by Angharad Copyright© 2016 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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257 dozen episodes for the dodecaphiles ( the dozen readers I have).

My evening focused on what James was doing. I assumed it was Danielle’s biological mother he was meeting and I wondered what he was asking her and whether she was telling the truth or not. Why was she looking for ‘him’ because she loved her child, because she felt guilty or for myriad other reasons. I should have asked him to let me go with him but she’d seen me and might put two and two together. It was useless speculation but until he reported back to me, I’d be no further forward—to say the evening dragged would be an understatement and I was doubly cross because I had loads to do but couldn’t settle to do more than some ironing—a different sort of pressing business.

I was half way through a duvet cover—with the iron, no that sounds as if I was burning my way through, I was half way through ironing it when the phone rang and I nearly dropped the iron in my rush to get to the phone. It was all a waste of time anyway because it was Simon saying neither he nor Sammi would be home because of another cyber attack on the bank.

“So not only are they bombing Aleppo, they’re bombarding your bank as well?”

“If they means Russia, probably.”

“Notice they don’t pick on someone their own size.”

“Don’t be silly, that’s dangerous. The gun fighters only got their reputations by shooting farm hands and drunks they’d provoked, you know—played five and won five.”

“That would still be true if they lost number six.”

“Don’t split hairs with me, I’m not a bloody scientist or a lawyer.”

“Okay. I’m just a bit frayed today.”

“Why?”

“Had a text from Jim telling me he’d found the woman we were looking for and had arranged to meet her this evening.”

“Which woman is this, Danni’s ma or the woman you met in our drive and are they the same?”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to figure out since he sent me the text.”

“Obviously he hasn’t called since?”

“Duh...”

“Okay, I only asked.”

“I’m sorry, darling, I’m just feeling on edge.”

“Let me know what happens.”

“I will.”

We finished the call with the usual niceties and I went back to my ironing, suddenly thinking I’d left the iron lying on the duvet cover. Thankfully I hadn’t, so presumably, even on auto pilot I was unconsciously taking care not to damage things, including myself.

The phone rang again and I rushed to answer it. It was Tom saying he forgot his bleeper thing for the gates, could I let him in? I pressed the open button on the control pad for the gates.

A few minutes later I was serving him the slightly dried up meal the rest of us ate two hours earlier, when it was not dried up at all. Then I saw headlights coming up the drive and wondered who else we were expecting. No one, so who on earth was this? I thought I’d closed the gates, so how had they got in?

“Excuse me,” I said rushing up stairs and grabbing my image intensifier, went into the bathroom and opened the window. I could see the Boxster. Jim—how did he get in?

By the time I came back down, after replacing the image intensifier, Daddy had let James in and was chatting away with him. They acknowledged my presence but then continued talking about some film or other.

“Sae he lands thae aeroplane on thae river?”

“Yes he does.”

“Soonds scary tae me.”

“I think I’d have needed to change my underpants as well.”

“Och, ye’re made o’ sterner stuff.”

“Not sure that I am, Cathy runs rings round me whenever she wants to...”

“Aye, she does that to me...”

“Does what to you?” I said entering the kitchen.

“Oh hello, dochter.”

“You were saying?” I said just to watch him blush.

“He was saying how good you were at being a professor.”

“I had a good teacher—tea?”

I boiled the kettle while the two men chatted behind me. Making three mugs of the brown nectar, I handed two to the men and brought my own to the table. I was just about to sit down when Trish came rushing into the room and threw herself at our visitor, “Jim,” she squealed as he caught her before she hit the table and sent tea flying everywhere.

“Hello, Trish, goodness you grow more beautiful every day.”

“So how come you give me the same old rubbish, then?”

I didn’t hear his reply because Daddy and I were laughing so much but James was blushing and still carrying my daughter.

“Any news on my so called mother?” asked Danielle entering the room.

“I was just going to speak with your real mother.”

I did a double take at that description, surely that was the other woman, I was the adopted mother.

“Can I sit in, Mummy?”

I looked at Jim and he nodded. I was concerned in case things she didn’t need to hear about were mentioned, seems like they weren’t.

“Okay, if you want tea, the kettle’s just boiled.”

“No, I’m okay thank you.” We all sat ourselves down.

I sipped my tea and waited for Jim to start. He took a big gulp of his, swallowed and then began.

“I got a name from the people who rented the original car.”

“How did you do that?” gasped Trish, I hadn’t noticed she was still with us.

“Trade secret, kiddo.”

“Go on, tell me,” she pleaded.

“Trish please be quiet, this is hard enough without you interrupting.”

She blushed deeply and muttered a very quiet, “Sorreee.”

“I got the hirer’s name, it was a private investigator from a London based company—he’d rented the car through them. They usually specialise in marital/divorce stuff not missing persons.”

I nodded to show I was listening intently.

“Am I a missing person, then?” asked Danni.

“Technically no, but you use the same sort of enquiries to find someone whatever their status.”

“Even if you know where they are supposed to be?”She asked the very question that was on the tip of my tongue.

“Yes, even then.”

“So what does that mean?” I asked, adding, “Using the wrong sort of agency?”

“Probably that she knows him or someone at the company.”

“What, like the CIA?”

“Who?” both James and I said together.

“The company, that’s what they all call the CIA in spy films.”

“If they were Brits they could mean MI5 or 6,” he retorted, “but it doesn’t apply here.”

“Oh,” she said the excitement gone for a moment.

“Please cut to the chase, James, was it Danielle’s birth mother I met walking down my own driveway?”

“I don’t know,” he said blushing.

“What d’you mean, you don’t know?” I said with irritation. I’d spent all my time since that bloody text wondering about whether it was her or not.

“Like I said, I don’t know.” He paused as if to wait for more criticism to be hurled at him but none was forthcoming so he continued. “I have strong suspicions that she asked him to find her long lost son but whether she accompanied him or not I’m not sure because the place that I acquired as her address was empty.”

“Empty?” I’m sure I goldfished.

“Yes, as unoccupied and with a for sale sign outside.”

“So that was a waste of time then?” I asked more rhetorically than actually.

“Not quite, I still have the investigator’s name and I’m seeing him tomorrow.”