Easy As Falling Off a Bike pt 3101

The Daily Dormouse.
(aka Bike, est. 2007)
Part 3101
by Angharad

Copyright© 2017 Angharad


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.

Sammi enjoyed her roast lunch but soon afterwards decided she would drive back to London which brought a look of disappointment to Simon’s face. While she was packing her car, still the sporty BMW Z4 or whatever, Simon let drop he’d been looking forward to travelling back up with her the next morning, on the train.

Promising to let me know when she got back to the flat, she set off with Trish looking particularly forlorn at her sister’s departure. “What’s the matter, poppet?” asked Simon who looked nearly as bad,

“Sammi; she promised she’d show me some things on the computer then Mummy suggested she drive back to London and she didn’t have time. I’m never going to prove who killed that man in our garden.”

“I thought the police had already charged someone with the shooting?”

“Anyone could tell it wasn’t him.”

“Well I couldn’t,” replied her dad.

She rolled her eyes in response.

“Now don’t just write me off, tell me why you think I’m stupid...” with that they went back inside the house and getting his attention for half an hour or so was far better than watching him snore on the couch all afternoon.

I had no idea who did it either but then like Simon, I hadn’t been trying to solve the crime. I’ve done my bit of helping the police with their investigations either as a suspect or dutiful citizen and have been underwhelmed with their gratitude.

I’m aware that some of the things I’ve done have been of questionable wisdom but I don’t run away from things like some people do, even when it might seem to be the best option, but so far I’ve survived my mistakes though I’m not always proud of the actions I took—the episode when we were abducted in Scotland is one such, where I took lives to protect my own and those in my care. Do I regret it? I regret it was necessary but not doing it in response to the aggression and murderous intent of others. Would I do it again? Try me and see what happens...

Having been on my feet most of the morning I sat down with the Observer when I’d pried it from the fingers of my somnolent adopted father. I glanced at the photos of Trump’s triumph and felt sick, though I did admire his wife’s outfit. Having said that glancing at the faces of the women in his family group, it looked as if none of them would be safe sitting close to a fire—the silicone might melt. They all look so tight faced, no expression presumably through botox or surgical enhancement. I had more wrinkles than Melania and she’s a bit older than I am, mind you I can go out in sunlight without shrivelling up—oops, my bad.

I eventually found the Everyman crossword and spent a pleasant half an hour or so completing it—once I’d got into it. Once I had, I went into crossword mode and plodded my way through them. It’s not an especially difficult one, but it did make me think a few times.

The kettle was boiling as Si came back from his chat with Trish. “She’s a one, isn’t she?”

If he’d only just discovered that he was more stupid than I’d first thought. “She’s quite bright.”

“Quite, she’s brilliant. She went through the evidence bit by bit and showed where the police had made mistakes...”

“Did she say how she came by the evidence?”

“No but it was probably in the media, on the net and the telly.”

“It wasn’t.”

“Oh, well how did she get it then, bribe a copper?”

“She hacked some of it.”

“From the police?”

Perhaps he has just discovered how bright she is. “Who else?”

“Oh, shouldn’t you be stopping her doing that?”

“I didn’t know she was anymore than I knew about her filming inside their mobile incident room.”

“How did she manage that?”

“A hidden micro camera and some well meaning coppers. She’d jam her iPad and take it in asking if any of them could unjam it for her. They did and while they did she filmed inside the room, white boards, photos, the lot.”

“Crikey, she’s a one isn’t she?”

“I’m concerned she will get herself caught, even if the local plod can’t keep her out or are unaware of her intrusions, the clever souls at GCHQ won’t be. Nothing electronic happens in this country and half the world they don’t know about.”

“Perhaps they’ll offer her a job?” Is he for real?

“The one they’d like is Sammi.”

“But she works for us.”

“Which is why she doesn’t accept their offers, that and the fact she’s not too fond of Cheltenham.”

“Hmm, average age about ninety two, think I can see why she doesn’t go.”

“Plus she can twist Henry into raising her salary to keep her at the bank.”

“I wasn’t aware of that—crikey—I seem to be missing half of what is going on in my own family.”

“A common occurrence in many family men.”

“But why didn’t Dad tell me she was threatening to quit?”

“Easier to deal directly with the situation, I presume.”

“Ever since she got her PhD, she’s changed.”

“Hardly surprising is it? It’s made her very much more marketable and I’m sure if she let it be known she was available, she’d be offered jobs on twice what you pay her.”

“D’you think I should offer her more?”

“No, she’ll tell you when she wants that.”

“So what should I do?”

“Tell her how much you value what she does and that you’re aware she could earn more elsewhere and thank her for her loyalty to the family and the bank.”

“I could do.”

“If you want to keep her, I’d do it frequently and soon.”


“Really—why d’you think she’s gone up to town on her own?”

“To stop her clothes getting creased.”

“There’s an iron at the flat, isn’t there?”

“I think so, I never use it.”

“Well then.”

“So what is she up to?”

“Possibly looking at flats or houses or jobs.”

“Jesus—I’ll speak with Dad on Monday and get her a rise. She’d be so difficult to replace.”

“May be I’ll just give him a quick ring.” He shot off to the study.

I got my mobile out and sent Sammi a text message.
‘If they offer you more money, take it. Love, Mum. x’

A few minutes later she replied. ‘Why would they do that? Sx’

‘UR dad was reminded of ur skills after talking to T. X’

‘Thx Mum. X’

Never let it be said that I don’t look after my own. One of these days she’ll fly the nest and she’ll also get fed up with the bank. She should be in research or teaching, she’s far too clever to work in a bank even at the level she does. I wish I could offer her a departmental head job at the university but she’d want London—either UCL or Imperial College, unless Oxford or Cambridge knew she was available.

“Och ye’ve done thae crossword, ye’re scunner.”

Looks like Sleeping Beauty has woken up or is that Grumpy?


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This story is 1318 words long.