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Sarah’s Story

Previously…

“Look, Sarah; I don’t know if you’ve heard any rumours about me but I am what is known as transgendered. In my case what that means is that I am a woman trapped in a man’s body. Ever since I was very, very young, I have always known that I’m a girl. I’ve never felt that I was a boy, although I did try very hard to be one. In fact I got married and tried to live my life as a man–although one that was a cross-dresser. My wife knew this and married me in spite of it. My marriage never worked out and I left her not very long ago. Now I live here full-time as a female and I intend to have an operation as soon as I can to finalise things. So although I have male equipment down below, I am a woman. I will understand if you don’t want to help me. It’s hard to take on board, I know. So if you want to leave me to get dressed by myself, I will understand.”

I looked at Sarah’s face and saw that she still wore a puzzled expression. What was she thinking? Was she appalled at what I’d just revealed? Would she run from the room screaming? She was still looking at me with a slight smile playing on her face.

“Miss, I understand, really I do. Y’see, I … I … I’m just like you––”
 
 
And now the story continues…
 
 
I looked at her and was baffled. “Sorry, I don’t understand?”

“I mustn’t say nufink, she said I mustn’t.”

“Look, Sarah, you can’t just say that and not explain things to me; what do you mean that you are like me?”

“Oooh, I dunno. Wait ‘ere a mo’.”

She rushed out like a scalded cat, leaving me wondering what had just occurred. Could she mean what I thought she meant? My thoughts were interrupted when my ‘phone chirped. Leaning over to the bedside table I picked it up and saw that it was Abby.

“Hello, Abby.”

“Samantha, how are you feeling, love?”

“Better thanks. Dotty and everyone else are being very kind to me.”

“That nice; I’ve been asked up to the big house for dinner. Jenkins says it’s formal. Have you got anything to wear or do you want me to bring some stuff for you?”

“It’s okay, Dotty’s letting me use one of her posh frocks.”

“What colour is it?”

“Sort of an electric blue colour. It’s absolutely gorgeous!”

“Sounds fantastic; I’ll steer clear of blue then. I’ll bring some other things for you though, knicks’ and stuff for you to wear for the next few days. Are you okay to have dinner, the last time I saw you, you were all pale and weak.”

“I’m feeling so much better now, darling. I can’t wait to see you.”

“Well I’d better get cracking then. I only have about an hour. See you later, honey.”

It was nice for Dotty to invite Abby to dinner. It was just one of the little things that prove that you can’t tell a book by its cover. I wondered about her husband, Sir Tremaine, and her obvious love for him. And she had let slip about a son. In all my conversations with Jocasta and all my other friends, no mention had been made of Dotty having a son. Was he the black sheep of the family? Who knows?

Then Sarah, what was all that about and what did she mean by her remarks and why did she shoot off so suddenly like that? My thoughts were interrupted by her return. I thought that she was alone but I was wrong because Dotty followed her in.

Sarah sat on a seat looking a bit sheepish while Dotty sailed over to the bed.

“Samantha, I understand that young Sarah here has let somethin’ slip.”

“Yes, but I’m sure she didn’t mean anything–’

“Let me the judge of that.”

She gave me the look. It was a look that brooked no argument; the sort of look that launched a thousand ships. No way was I going to argue with that so I kept my mouth zipped up.

“Sarah, we have spoken of this before. You shouldn’t say anythin’ of a private nature until you clear it with me or Jenkins. ‘Can’t have you blabbin’ it all around the cove. Some people might hold it against yer.’

“Sorry,” said Sarah in a small voice, looking down at her feet.

“Hmm.”

Dotty looked at me again and then sighed.

“I am sorry, Samantha; Sarah tends to be a little indiscreet occasionally. I suppose you will now need to know what all this is about, but I’d appreciate yer not sayin’ anythin’ to anyone about this.’

“I can’t keep secrets from Abby.”

She smiled as she arranged herself in comfy chair by the fireplace. “I wouldn’t expect you to. But Abby must also keep quiet about all this. Tremaine and I never had any secrets from each other though, so I can understand yer point of view. Look, time’s gettin’ on. You need to change and so do I. We’ll speak of this at Dinner.”

With that, Dotty got up to leave. She turned to Sarah as she walked to the door.

“Not a word about this until dinner.”

“No, m’lady.”

Dotty frowned and looked as if she was going to say something and then just shook her head and walked out mumbling to herself.

“Righ’ Miss, let’s get yer ready fer the ball!”

As a maid, Sarah had a lot to learn, she was willing, but a bit hopeless. I wondered why she was doing this as she had been adopted by Dotty. She kept up a conversation that had less aitches than ‘ospital. We didn’t talk about the mystery behind her words, at learning that I was transgendered or any of her history–although I was dying to hear her story. Instead she talked about the gardener, her job, a few fruity things about Jenkins–I was surprised to learn that he’s a Star Trek fanatic–and about the ins and outs of below stairs.

I faintly heard a gentle knock at the bedroom door while I was in the bathroom, which Sarah answered. A few moments later she came in with my makeup bag from home. It appears that Jenkins made a special trip to pick it up when Abby rang up about it little bit earlier. I had been a bit concerned about not being able to put my face on–the pale forlorn look was wearing a bit thin, by then–so, after putting on a bra, panties and slip, I began my makeup with Sarah looking on with large eyes. She was drinking all this in and I could see that she was dying to try some on. But the rule was that servants do not wear makeup, so she just kept on sighing and looking at me doe-eyed.

“Look, Sarah, I promise that one day very soon, I’ll take you to the salon and make you look like a glamorous film star, okay?”

“Cor, will yer? that would be grea’!” With that she perked up a tad as I finished putting on the makeup and got into my dress. By the time I was ready, I had just twenty minutes to dinner.

“Yer look loverly, Miss.”

“Thank you, Sarah,’ I said as I looked at my reflection and smiled.

My hair shone, the makeup hid the ravages of my illness, and the dress–oh, it was a beautiful, long, satin and organza confection that would have been perfect for a wedding if it were white. The slightly plunging neckline did nothing to hide my bosom and I was pleased that my faux breasts were so realistic in that they didn’t show any seams or lines to spoil the effect. The dress had three-quarter length sleeves in the same organza material and was semi transparent. As I moved, the light caught the electric blue satin beneath the diaphanous material and made it shimmer wonderfully.

“Can I go now, Miss?”

“Of course, Sarah. Thanks for being such a help.”

“Tha’s all righ’ Miss, see yer lyter.”

She gave me a dazzling smile and scooted off, leaving me to carry on admiring the wonderful dress. I looked at the gold watch on my wrist. I still had twenty minutes to go and wondered whether Abby had left home yet. I wasn’t too sure if her car, Dolly would make it all the way here, but kept my fingers crossed that she would arrive safely.

I was still feeling slightly weak and my heart was bouncing around in my chest, so I just sat down carefully on a chair for a few minutes and promptly fell asleep. I awoke with a start at a touch on my shoulder. Opening my eyes, they took a moment to focus and then I smiled as there was my Abby, standing in front of me looking a bit concerned.

“Hello, sleepyhead. Are you all right?”

“I’m fine, just a bit tired, but that will be fixed soon. It’s so nice to see you.”

I kissed her gently on her painted lips and after she helped me up I noticed her dress. It was cream, off the shoulder and made of silk. It was drop dead gorgeous and went down–or should I say flowed down–to her ankles. The dress had a matching shawl and it looked wonderful on her bare shoulders.

“What a stunning dress!” I exclaimed.

“Mmm, it was my mother’s. I always wanted to wear it and this looked like a good excuse to give it an airing. You look absolutely wonderful, Sam. I love the colour and the way the light catches it–yummy!”

After we finished with the mutual appreciation society we made our way downstairs. I was on Abby’s arm as I was still a mite unsteady–not helped by three inch heels.

At the bottom of the stairs was my friendly footman. I still didn’t know his name.

“It’s Summers, Miss,” he answered on my enquiry and then led us to yet another room that I had never been in.

The double doors were opened and I gasped as I took in the sight before me. The room was large, high-ceilinged and had a highly polished wooden floor. The ceiling was covered frescos depicting scenes that were classical in nature and in the style of Reubens. The walls had tapestries that seemed have been influenced by the Bayeux Tapestry depicting some war or other. If that wasn’t enough, there were also paintings on the walls that were obviously painted by French, Dutch and Italian Masters. Not forgetting a smattering by Holbein, Turner and Constable. This was a room that would almost certainly make a certain Mr Getty–and probably The Louvre–drool!

An enormous banqueting table stretched virtually from one end of the room to the other. The room was probably large enough to double as a ball room and I discovered later that this was the case. My eyes lit up when I saw my painting of Fifi at the far end of the room, above the huge ornate fireplace. I was humbled by having my work displayed in the same room as all these masterpieces and I nearly did my Victorian swooning act at the sight of it. Luckily, Abby was holding my arm, otherwise surely I would have fallen base over apex!

The table had been laid at one end and sitting there at the head was Dotty, looking resplendent in a gold evening dress. But she didn’t catch my eye so much as a very lovely girl in a pretty sky blue satin dress, her blond hair piled up on top and held by silver hair combs. I had to look twice before I realised it was Sarah.

In passing, Jenkins was there and a couple of footmen, all looking like statues awaiting instructions, no doubt. Abby and I walked over as both Dotty and Sarah got up to greet us.

“Ah, there you are, gels. Pleased that you could come. It’s nice to see you making an effort with yer appearance. Gels, nowadays think that should look like boys. In my day, you used to be horsewhipped if you didn’t dress properly for dinner. Sister of mine, God rest her soul, actually wore jodhpurs to dinner once. Got her backside tanned and her horse was shot–well it wasn’t really, but it was threatened. Please sit down.”

We were helped to our seats by the footmen. I was sitting opposite Sarah, who didn’t look me in the face. I couldn’t believe the transformation from a maid to someone who looked like she was due to be presented at court at any moment. Her makeup was subtle–just enough to highlight her looks and her peaches and cream complexion. She was smiling shyly and looked a million miles from the chirpy, cheeky cockney girl of a short time ago.

Dinner was served and Sarah did not speak while we were eating. She behaved as if she was used to formal meals like these. Dotty kept up a nonstop dialogue about The Cove, church, flowers, moles, the present government–that man “Broon”–more moles and other topics. Course after course of superbly cooked and presented food was eaten and I wondered whether a cat had got Sarah’s tongue. She looked at me occasionally and gave me shy smile. I tried to bring her in on the discussions, but she remained silent.

As the staff were in the room, I didn’t think that Dotty or Sarah would want to speak about somewhat private matters so I just tried to keep my end up by discussing other things like the Gallery and Abby did her bit about all things pottery.

Finally after the sumptuous meal was finished, the staff left us with coffee’s and cokes for Sarah and left quietly. Jenkins gave me a small smile and a trace of a wink as he left and I wondered how much he knew already about things. I was sure that he was the font of all knowledge and I already knew that he was Dotty’s confidante.

As Jenkins left Dotty called after him.

‘Jenkins, please convey my congratulations to Chef and make sure that we are not disturbed?”

“Yes, m’lady.”

“Thank you for a wonderful meal,” I said to Dotty enthusiastically.

“Yes, thank you,” chipped in Abbey.

“Think nothin’ of it, pleasure to have you as my guests. How’re yer feelin’, Samantha?

“Fine, thank you.”

“Good. Now that the men have gorn, we can talk of other matters. Abby, Sarah and Samantha here have been talkin’ about who and what they are. Sarah has let slip something of her situation. I agreed that Sarah’s position should be made clear to you, but I would ask yer–as I asked Samantha–to keep things secret for the time bein’. Do you agree.”

“Yes, but I don’t understand–”

“All will be explained. Right Sarah, want to kick orf?”

Sarah perked up then and sat up straighter in her chair. She looked at Abby and I and smiled. I had a feeling the riot act had been read to young Sarah and that was why, during the meal she did a very creditable imitation of a clam–now she sort of let it all out.

“Well Miss, It was like, when I woz at the orphanage. It was bleedin’ awful–”

“–Sarah!” Dotty interrupted.

“Yus?”

“Drop it,”

“Drop what, m’lady.”

“The chirpy Cockney sparrow accent.” She sighed and looked at me, “Sarah thought that she could hide her identity by being somethin’ that she isn’t and wanted to act the part. I humoured her–God knows why. I suppose I went along with it because it did no harm. Anyway, to preface, the orphanage that she stayed in was in East London. I was on a committee that inspected children’s homes. I am also a patron of the home–but this is Sarah’s story so I’ll let her tell it–in her normal accent, please–and I’ll chip in if and when–Sarah?”

She looked at Dotty fondly.

“Sorry, Mummy.”

Dotty’s eyes went heavenward and she looked like she was about to say something, I think her stays were in danger for a moment, but she managed to keep it all bottled up as Sarah continued to talk in a normal, if slightly surprising upper class accent.

“Well, you need to know something of my background first. I was born in India. My mother and father moved there shortly before I was born. Daddy was something in IT and Mum was a nurse. Anyway, we moved about quite a bit, never settling in one place more than six months and this continued until I was twelve. We were quite well off as Daddy’s work was as a consultant. He was in demand a lot and Mum was able to work at various hospitals too. This meant that I was left with nannies and I didn’t get to see as much of them as I liked. Anyway, a couple of years ago, they were involved in a car crash and they both died.”

She stopped for a minute and took a sip of her drink. I was going to say something but Abby put her hand on my leg and shook her head slightly.

“I…I had an aunt who lived in Wales. She was the only living relative that I knew about. She was Daddy’s sister. After the funeral, I was sent to her. She wasn’t very well though and was certainly not well enough to look after me. She sent me to another aunt that I didn’t even know I had and I was left with her. Erm, then this other aunt…she caught me…wearing a slip in bed. She…she hit me and…left bruises and…and––”

She began to cry and Dotty reached across and held her hand. I think that we all had tears in our eyes by this time.

“Want me to tell ‘em?” Dotty asked softly.

“N—no, I will, it–it helps.” She looked at us with red eyes and my heart went out to her as she continued.

“You see, ever since I was little, I’ve been a girl but with boy bits. My parents knew this and tried to stop me being who I really was. They didn’t hit me or anything but they just let it be known that I shouldn’t think that I was a girl and tried to make me act and look like a boy–but I’m not. I loved my parents and they weren’t cruel or anything but they just tried to push me into this boy thing, which I’m not, no matter what I was physically. I hated my boy name–Mark–and always considered myself to be Sarah. Anyway, when they died, I tried so hard not to dress or even think of dressing as a girl. I blamed myself for their dying: I thought that God was punishing me for not being natural. But after a while, I couldn’t help myself and I started borrowing clothes from my aunt, then she caught me and hurt me. Well I went to school the following day and it was noticed in gym class that I had bruises on me. I was questioned and then things moved quickly. I was taken away from my aunt and moved to the children’s home.”

She had another sip of her drink and then looked at us and smiled.

“Sorry, it’s a bit hard to talk about it but it’s good to be able do it. Do you know what I mean?”

We all nodded as Dotty continued to hold her hand and stroke it occasionally.

I darted a glance at Abby, she like me was enthralled and totally engrossed in what Sarah was telling us. After a few more sips of her Coke–her mouth must have been quite dry after all this talking–Sarah, with another glance towards Dotty, no doubt for reassurance, continued her tale.

“I was sent to an orphanage–well it was really a children’s home, with children from broken homes as well as those with no parents. I hated the place. I couldn’t be myself and some of the kids were a bit rough and violent to say the least.”

“You had no other relatives?” I asked.

She looked at me a smiled sadly shaking her pretty head.

“Not that I knew of and my aunt didn’t want anything to do with me by then and disowned me for my ungodly ways, so she was no help. Anyway, I coped or tried to cope. I felt like a fish out of water there. I was bullied quite a bit for my so-called girlie looks and ways. I suppose I went down to their level and started acting and being like some of the other children. We had access to computers at the home and one of the kids there was able to show me a way to get around the parental controls. I used to go down to the computer room late at night and go on the internet. I read about others like me and found out that I could do something to stop my male development. There was a place that would supply the drugs, no questions asked, for cash, not too far away from me in London. It wasn’t cheap, but I was terrified of my voice breaking and turning into something I didn’t want to be.”

“Weren’t you worried that the drugs might be dangerous?” Abby asked.

“I didn’t even think about that. As far as I was concerned, they would stop me being a boy, physically anyway. The drugs weren’t cheap and I had no money except for the small amount given every week as pocket money. I—I was desperate. I not only started stealing a few items of clothes from the other girls, panties and other under things, I also stole money. One or two of the boys at the home were good at shop lifting and I went along with them and started stealing from shops and passing the goods on to fences for cash. Then I was given cider to drink by a few of the kids. I liked to drink the stuff because it helped to take the pain away, for a while––”

She broke down then with tears streaming down her cheeks. As one, we all got up and went to her and gave her group hug.

There was a door in the corner and Dotty, holding Sarah’s hand, led us to it and ushered us into another room. It was a sitting room with comfy chairs and sofas dotted around and we made ourselves comfortable with Dotty and Sarah on one while Abby and I sat on another. Sarah tried to compose herself but found it quite difficult.

“I will continue,” Dotty said firmly, “Sarah has told me in detail what she’s been through. Do you want to go to bed Sarah?”

Sarah just shook her head and held on to Dotty’s arm as if it was some sort of lifebelt.

“Sarah was in a cycle of destruction. She had got in with a bad crowd to enable her to get these drugs to arrest puberty. She’s a very clever girl and was able to hide most if not all her activities from the authorities. But it’s hard to disguise the fact that you’ve bin drinkin’ and she was caught one day in a park drinkin’ cider, she had been takin’ the drugs for several months by then and was not capable of standin’–the drink and drugs evidently did not interact very well. To cut a long story short, I was on an inspection of the home when she came back from the police station. I had been dissatisfied with the runnin’ of the home for some time and was in the process of tellin’ the staff that I would be recommendin’ some sweepin’ changes when Sarah arrived. Here was a child that typified to me the badly run, shambolic system that was in place at the time, but there was somethin’ else about her that niggled and I wanted to know what was goin’ on with this child. The following mornin’ after she had sobered up, I spoke at length with her and her sorry story came out, much in the same way that she has spoken this evening.”

By this time, I was feeling very tired and although I was enthralled by the story, I really needed to go to bed. Abby noticed this.

“Dotty, I think that Sam needs her sleep. Can we continue tomorrow and I think that Sarah could do with going to bed too.”

“Quite right, didn’t notice the time. You must stay the night, Abby. Jenkins will arrange things. I’ll send him in. See you in the morning. Come along, young Sarah, let’s get you to bed.”

Sarah smiled, came over and kissed each of us on the cheek.

“’Night,” she said.

“Good night,” I said and added, quietly in her ear, “you look very pretty tonight.”

“Thank you,” she whispered, “so do you.”

“Come on, Sarah,”

“Coming, Mummy.”

~*~

Jenkins led us up to our room and after removing our makeup and changing into matching long white Victorian nightgowns we were soon cuddling up in bed. After a brief kiss, I was soon asleep cuddled up to the one I loved.

When I awoke the next morning, Abby was up against my back, still fast asleep. A line of sunlight was on the wall opposite the window, where the curtains had not been fully closed the night before.

Lying there, feeling Abby’s warmth through the thin fabric of our nightgowns, I thought about the previous evening and the revelations I had heard at the dinner table.

I had thought that I was unlucky in love and life before coming to Penmarris. But my story was nothing compared to the harrowing experiences of Sarah. In her short life, she has had to deal with the death of her parents, the fact that she was trapped in the wrong body, illegal drugs and drink and being on the wrong side of the law. Dotty’s taking her under her wing and adopting Sarah was the best thing that could have happened to the girl. The love that they had for each other was obvious from last night and I was intrigued to hear the rest of her story.

It was about an hour and a half later that we all found ourselves sitting in the same room as the previous night after a full English breakfast in–you guessed it–the breakfast room. It being a warm day, I was wearing a lilac cotton top and skirt and Abby a pale pink light cotton dress. Dotty was in her usual day time garb of white blouse and tweed skirt. Sarah had forsaken her maids’ uniform and looked very pretty in a lemon strappy sun dress.

“Well,” said Dotty, “I’m glad ter see yer look a bit more the ticket today, Samantha, you started to look a bit peaky last night.”

“Yes, I feel much better thank you, Dotty. Marcia should have my blood results today and if she has, I can at least start some treatment.”

Jenkins hovered around for a while, serving coffees and then silently left the room. I took a careful look at his feet as he left, wondering whether one learned to walk like that at Butler School or if he had special hover shoes.

“Right, when we left orf last night Sarah had told me about herself. I was appalled at hearin’ what she had been through. But there was something naggin’ in the back of my mind. I decided, on a whim really, that she should come home with me. I pulled a couple of strings and managed to obtain temporary custody of her. When I brought her home, this naggin’ feelin’ persisted. Have either of you read Oliver Twist?”

My brain did a sort of double twist with knobs on at this apparent change of subject. Abby and I looked at each other and then both answered, “yes,” at the same time.

“You may recall that Mr Brownlow on lookin’ at a portrait of a young lady in his house, was struck by the resemblance to Oliver. My daughter Roberta’s photograph is on my office desk. Now I had not seen my daughter for many years. We were not close and I disagreed with her lifestyle, so we were, I suppose somewhat estranged. I had no idea where she was, although I had made certain enquiries to find out her whereabouts. I wanted to forgive and forget. However all I could find out was that she had gorn abroad. As I sat at the desk and listened to what Sarah was telling me about her life I was struck by her resemblance to my daughter. You can understand me amazement when I found out that Sarah’s mother’s maiden name was Fairbairn and then everything seemed to click. Mark, or rather Sarah here was actually my grandchild! My happiness was tempered by the fact that I had lost my daughter and had never patched things up. My son Ronald is in the city and has no time for his mother so I decided there and then to do what I could to help Sarah and hope that we could be family for each other.”

Both Abbey and I looked at each other. It was so bizarre, how could something like this happen outside of a penny dreadful novel?

“Yes, I was so surprised I cried my eyes out,” said Sarah, finally coming to life, “I thought that I had lost everybody but in the end I found my grandmother. Mind you she hates being called that so I call her Mummy and she is really because she adopted me, though she didn’t need to. Then I said I wanted to pay her back for being so sweet and let me live as a girl–I so hated being called Mark, I’m officially Sarah now by the way. Anyway, I said that I wanted to be her maid so that I could help her, because she said that when she was a girl, her Mummy made her be a maid for a bit to help her learn humility and not be so much of a prig…”

“SARAH!”

Sarah stopped mid flow and looked at Dotty.

“Mummy?”

“Samantha and Abby don’t want to hear you prattlin’ on like that. I think that your tutor will be ready for you now.” She said looking at her watch.

“Oh, Mummee!”

“Enough of that, young lady. I told you when you stopped this maid nonsense that you would do more studyin’ I still think that it was a ploy to stop yer goin’ ter lessons, now scoot or I’ll get yer to muck out the stables.”

“Okaaay,” sniffed Sarah and then she gave us a big smile. “Byeee!” she said, gave a little flappy wave and then rushed from the room.

Dotty looked fondly after her retreating back, then turned to us.

“She may be as nutty as a fruitcake, but she’s my nutcase!”

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To Be Continued...

Please leave comments...thanks! ~Sue

My thanks go to the brilliant and lovely Gabi for editing, help with the plot-lines and pulling the story into shape.