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(aka Bike) Part 900 (75 Dozen) by Angharad Copyright © 2010 Angharad
All Rights Reserved. |
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Getting the girls to bed was difficult–they were clingy with me as well–even after kissing and hugging each one, and the usual story reading–they still wanted me to stay with them. In the end, I had to lie on the bed for half an hour until they’d gone to sleep.
The boys were a problem too–I had to see them to bed and tuck them in, and sit and talk with them for half an hour as well.
Everyone seemed clingy, wanting to spend time with me–I’d only been away one night, for goodness sake. I sent Julie off to bed about ten thirty, and spent an hour chatting with Stella and Tom; neither of whom seemed in a hurry to go to bed. It was I who had to call it a day, when I had a fit of the yawns and went up to bed.
Then I had a surprise, Julie was fast asleep in my bed. This had to stop, but I was too tired for any arguments tonight, so I slipped in alongside her and was soon asleep.
Amazingly, I managed to sleep all night without waking for a toilet visit, and when the radio came on at seven, I was surprised to see Julie with me until I remembered the previous night.
“Morning, Mummy,” she purred at me.
“What’s wrong with your bed?”
“Nothin’, Mummy, I just like yours better.”
“This is the last time–okay?”
“But it so much nicer sleepin’ with someone.”
“Tough, you’ve got your teddy, so that’ll have to do.”
“You’re such a hard woman, Mummy.”
“Am I? In which case, why didn’t I throw you out last night?”
“’Cos I’m so loveable?”
“Sez who?” I challenged her cheek.
“Me,” she smirked.
“Well, Miss Loveable, you can get up and help me get the kids ready for school.” I threw back the duvet and she tried to grab it as I pulled it off the bed. However, I was too quick, and I rolled it up and took it into the bathroom with me. When I came back from showering, she wasn’t there. I woke the girls and, as their hair looked okay, I had them wash themselves, whilst I went to get the boys up.
Danny was dressing himself and Billy was in the shower–it seemed Julie had got them up, then gone to her own bed. I gave the boys a wet flannel each and told one to wipe her face and the other to rub her feet with the damp cloths.
The squeals and swearing, plus threats were quite amusing to hear. The boys came dashing out with Julie in hot pursuit still yelling at them. Once she saw me waiting, she stopped and began laughing.
“You, Missy can get yourself organised and help me get breakfasts ready.” I was downstairs making tea when she finally arrived–she did make sandwiches for the boys, but with some reluctance.
She came with me to take the girls to school, and helped me with the food shop afterwards. I informed her that she was cooking dinner and what did she want to make?
“I can’t cook, Mummy.”
“It sounds like it’s time you learned then.”
“Will you help me?”
“Yes, but you do all the work.”
She gave me a sour look but nodded. “What shall I do?”
“What d’you fancy eating?” I asked.
“Something easy.”
“Easy to what–digest?”
“No, easy to make.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know, Mummy, you’re the expert.”
“Only because my mother made me do it.”
“Oh I see–come from a long line of child abusers, do you?”
“Ha ha, now what are you going to cook?”
“I dunno–you suggest something.”
“Beef stroganof and raspberry roulade for dessert.”
“Very funny–how about something easy, like egg and chips?”
“No. No chips.”
“Boiled egg?”
“This is dinner, the main meal of the day and you’re proposing boiled eggs?”
“Yeah, lots of ‘em–that’d fill you up.”
“Try again,” I insisted.
“I dunno–um not eggs–um, how about chicken something?”
“Coq au vin, chicken chasseur, chicken curry, chicken stew, roast chicken...”
“Um–how difficult is roast chicken?”
“For the chicken–very traumatic, for the cook quite simple, unless you get into complicated glazes or stuffings.”
“Um no–simple roast chicken.”
“It’s easy, so is that it–roast chicken?”
“Yeah.”
“What veg are you doing?”
“I don’t know, do I?”
“What do you normally eat with a roast dinner?”
She scratched her head, “Um, spuds, carrots, cabbage?”
“Roast or boiled potatoes?”
“Which is easier?”
“Neither are rocket science–which do you prefer?”
“Um, roasties.”
“Okay, we’ll do roasties.” It was like pulling teeth, but it was a new experience for her and required some cajoling to make her believe she could do it. We chose the vegetables, carrots and cauliflower with some broccoli. I also got some mushrooms to roast with the meat and some Spanish onions.
“You’ll have to show me what to do, Mummy.”
“I’ll watch you–I’m not here to humiliate you, I’m here to teach you. While that’s cooking, you can help me with the ironing.”
“What? Do that as well?”
“Yes, it’s what housewives do all the time–so unless you can afford to pay someone to do it for you, you’d better start learning quickly, hadn’t you? It’s the joys of womanhood.”
“Um–what if I went back to stay as a boy?”
“I’d still make you do it–the boys will learn basic housekeeping too–I won’t be there forever to look after them, and it’s a good thing to know.”
“Okay, I surrender–but you will watch me, won’t you?”
“I just said so, didn’t I?”
She nodded but looked excitedly anxious. I remembered when I started, I used to get anxious, but there was also an excitement in learning something new which involved a risk of spoiling it. I think that was where she was at that moment. Before we left the supermarket–a large Morrisons–I got her to choose an apron, which would be hers to wear when she was cooking or cleaning.
We were busy pushing the trolley out to the car when we literally bumped into someone else’s trolley. Julie was pushing it, still complaining about cooking when going down a small slope in the car park, she let it nudge into someone else’s trolley, an empty one but which was being pushed up the hill.
It was a middle aged couple whom I didn’t know from Adam–but Julie did. “Oh shit,” she said.
The bloke at first said, “Careful love,” then paused after Julie spoke and said, “John, is that you?”
There was an uneasy silence, then the insults began. “What are you doing dressed like a girl?” he said loudly–loudly enough to attract the attention of passers-by.
“Julie, who are these people?” I asked stepping next to her.
“Who are you? Some sort of pervert, dressing my son up as a girl. Call the police someone.”
“Mr and Mrs Kemp, I presume? How nice to meet you.” I extended my hand hoping it wouldn’t be accepted unless I had somewhere to wash it afterwards. I was however determined to stay calm.
“I want my son back–not some bloody queer–what sort of woman are you?”
Julie had burst into tears and to their disgust she reached for me to console her not her parents. “A woman who has a bit more understanding and sympathy for your child than you do.” I replied calmly but coldly.
“You should be ashamed of yourself,” added Mrs Kemp.
“For what? Rescuing a child who’d been beaten up, and who faced another beating if she went to her parents’ house? If that constitutes a shameful act, then yes, I’m guilty as charged.”
“You should be charged as a pedowotsit.”
“I think not–I’ve been vetted by the CRB, have you?”
“You stole our son.”
“No, I gave refuge to your daughter.”
“That’s a boy–not a friggin’ girl, do you need your eyes tested?” her father looked as if he was about to burst a blood vessel, he was so red faced.
“I can’t see a boy there, can you?” I asked a passer by who walked even faster after I spoke to them.
“You bitch, you know I’m right–you’ve enticed him away, you bloody pervert.” Mr Kemp was nearly apoplectic and his spittle was frothing a little.
“Nice to have met you, Mr and Mrs Kemp–come along, Julie, let’s go home.”
Kemp made a grab for her or maybe even me, but I pushed his arm away and pulled the trolley between us. A small crowd was gathering and I drew Julie away with our groceries to our car. Mrs Kemp, kept her husband from attacking me, and the crowd parted to let us through.
I quickly dumped the stuff in the car and abandoned the trolley. Julie was very distressed as one would expect and she was sobbing loudly.
Kemp came rushing towards the car and I started it and drove off just before he got there, narrowly missing another car as we moved towards the exit.
Once free of the irate pair, I was able to pat Julie on the knee and say comforting things. “We’ll be home soon, I’ll make us a nice cuppa and you’ll feel better.”
She simply sat and sobbed. “Why does he always have to spoil it?”
We got home and an astonished Stella stood by the door as I threw her my keys and said, “Can you unload the shopping?” before following the sobbing teen up to her room.
She lay on her bed and hugged her teddy, weeping profusely. I felt sad and angry at the attitude of her ignorant parents. How I felt like thumping him, even though I knew it would serve no useful purpose apart from personal satisfaction.
I half expected a visit from the plod–he’d have seen my car registration. So I asked Stella to sit with her when she came up to see what was going on. “We bumped into her parents in a supermarket car park–quite literally.”
“Oh–I see, I’ve put the kettle on.”
“Sit with her will you? I’m going to try and get hold of Andy Bond.” I ran down to the phone and called the local cop-shop, they promised to get him to call me back.
He did about ten minutes later, and whilst I was talking to him, I saw a plod mobile turn into the driveway. Andy said to ask them to wait, he was on his way.
The doorbell rang and I opened it, “Tea or coffee?” I asked as I opened the door.
“What? Exclaimed the young policewoman.
“Would you prefer a cup of tea or coffee?” I repeated.
“I’m sorry, madam, this is a serious matter.”
“What choosing between tea and coffee, I agree absolutely.”
“Is that your Audi A3 outside?”
“Yes, but you know that from your computer link.”
“Exactly, a woman matching your description has been reported abducting a teenage boy dressed as a girl from a supermarket, and driving away in that car.”
“Do come in, I have spoken with one of your colleagues who knows the background to this–he’s on his way, so shall we have a cuppa while we wait for him?”
“You realise these are serious charges against you, um, Lady Cameron?”
“That’s me.”
“Aren’t you the one who did that film on dormice?” asked her colleague.
“Yes, I plead guilty to that, but not to abducting anyone. The young lady concerned is upstairs with my sister in law who is a nurse.”
“The Kemps said the child was a boy–their son.”
“He’s GID.” At the look of confusion on both of their faces, I explained. “John, who prefers to be called Julie, by the way, is gender dysphoric–transsexual?”–they nodded.
“So he wants to be a woman?” asked the WPC.
“Yes. I found her some weeks ago lying beaten up on a rubbish dump while dressed provocatively as a female. I brought her home because she wouldn’t allow me to take her to a hospital. It was freezing at the time and I couldn’t leave her there. This is all documented, by the way. It involved an ex-colleague of yours as the attacker.
'After I checked she was physically okay, I spoke to the police and social services. They were both in agreement that she should stay with me, as her parents were very unhelpful regarding her gender status–her father has beaten her several times.
“So the only people who might need to know, who didn’t, were her parents. I did phone them, with Julie, as I wanted them to know she was alright. They swore at her over the phone and also at me. So I disconnected the call. We’re ex-directory so they couldn’t trace us”.
The two coppers were looking totally out of their depth when Andy Bond arrived. “Lady Catherine, how nice to see you again.” He nodded to his colleagues. “Where’s Julie?”
“Upstairs, crying on her bed. Stella’s with her.”
“Okay, can Rita go and check she’s not here against her will or has been injured?”
“That’s me,” said the WPC.
“Sure, Andy the kettle has just boiled, can you make the tea while I show Rita up to Julie’s room?” I led the young woman up the stairs.
We entered Julie’s room, where Stella was hugging the distressed teen. “Julie, we need you to speak with this police officer.”
Julie clung on to Stella even tighter and shook her head.
“Julie, please talk to this nice young lady–she’s very worried that you’ve been kidnapped and are being held against your will. I need you to talk to her or she’s likely to arrest me, and you’ll have to cook the dinner.”
Slowly she released Stella, and we both left the room to the two youngsters.
“Are you going to call Stephanie?” asked Stella.
“I could–I wonder if she does visits?”
“For a fee–you bet.”
“Let’s see what happens next; oh, Andy Bond’s here and is making the tea, I’d better go and see to things. Can you be ready to hug Julie again if necessary?”
“As long as Pud doesn’t need me.”
“She won’t, I strangled her earlier.” I smiled sweetly and dashed downstairs.
The two men were chatting amicably and sipping mugs of tea. “I hope there’s some left for the workers?” I said as I went into the kitchen.
“Plenty,” he said, ignoring me and continuing his conversation–which transpired to be a joke.
“Have you brought your colleague up to speed?” I asked.
“Yes thanks, Lady Catherine. We’ll have to check with Social Services but otherwise everything’s okay.”
“Cor, she is upset,” said WPC Rita as she came back downstairs. “She’s here because she wants to be, says Lady Cameron is her foster mother, and she hates her father, who used to hit her for being a poof.”
“I’m glad you called her by the preferred pronoun, it’s so important to her.”
“That’s no boy, I don’t care what her parents said–oh–she also said I can talk with her psychiatrist, Dr Stephanie something.”
“Steph Cauldwell, yes, I can give you her number. In fact I think I might ask her to pop by and see Julie.”
“Is that NHS?” asked Rita.
“No–an arm and a leg job. The state she was in when I found her couldn’t wait until the NHs could supply a shrink with experience of gender dysphoria or transgenderism. So I went private.”
“I know where I’ve seen you–in the bank.” Rita declared with glee.
“Yes, on the poster holding a dormouse.”
“Her father in law owns it,” offered PC Bond.
“What the poster?” asked a perplexed Rita.
“No, you twit, the bank–her husband is Simon Cameron, the banker.”
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Comments
Parents eh? Who'd have 'em?
Excellent as usual. The police obviously dont use their paperwork to communicate to one another then....
75 dozen, I take it that is imperial dozen, not metric or bakers?
Take care and be happy - Jay
That which does not kill me only serves to delay the inevitable. My blog => http://jaym.angelblogs.co.uk/
That which does not kill me only serves to delay the inevitable. My blog => http://jaynemorose.wordpress.com/ <= note new address
Julie
She's definitely part of the family now - she's even actively engaging in the weird and random style of conversation that's a trademark of the household!
Somehow I don't think they'll be shopping at that particular branch of Morrisons again in a hurry...
Nice to see the police were so understanding - although practically idolising Cathy probably helped :)
Hopefully in tomorrow's episode we'll see Julie actually cooking her first meal - and hopefully realising it's one of the few things in life that are easier done than said (well, described)!
--Ben
As the right side of the brain controls the left side of the body, then only left-handers are in their right mind!
Congratulations!
Congrats -- and thank you! -- on your first nine hundred! And best wishes for many more!
A good start
Many more 900's? Oh, sure. The way this is going, I'm convinced that I'd still enjoy chapter 5400 some fifteen years from now. I want to know how Julie's kids do at school, and how she got them! Oh, and whether Cathy has the time to finish her Ph.D. before Trish gets hers... :)
Since I suspect that Trish
Since I suspect that Trish will manage at least her first PhD by her 16th birthday, Cathy will have to hurry up....
Janice
ahhh Found it and enjoyed it too
While looking for this episode I found your invitation to respond as to whether or not, we the readers wanted this story to continue.
I'll say again I can't forsee haveing to live with out it.It got hold of me from the first word and won't let go.
Please keep it going as long as possible.
I also ejoy your other stories, but can live with delays there as long as this (my farvouite) keeps on coming
The 'rents! I might have known!
You run into these sorts of people at the absolute worst times. How could it seem any worse? Perhaps Julie should press charges against her abusive father? That would put a stick in his spokes!
Khadijah
I like that suggestion, unfortunately, no evidence
currrently so hard to do much with it.
Wonderful stuff
Thank you Angharad and Bonzi for an extra-long installment of my favourite series, and congratulations on reaching the milestone (or is it millstone?) of 900 episodes. I thoroughly enjoyed it.
Cathy and co. are doing all the right things to support Julie. It's interesting to reflect on the parallels between the way Julie is treated by her parents, and the way Cathy was treated by her own father and mother. At least Julie is in the happy position of having understanding and knowledgeable supporters to help her.
Rather than leaving Julie to wallow in self-pity for too long, let's hope Cathy quickly gets things back to "business as usual" and gets Julie to cook the dinner as planned.
Practical Strategies
Bike Resources
Easy As Falling Off A Bike pt 900.
Well, THAT'S one way to celebrate a milestone, but no doubt about it, Cathy and Julie DON'T feel like partying, right now. GOSH! if the plods stay for dinner, hope there's enuff.
May Your Light Forever Shine
May Your Light Forever Shine
Her Dad Needs To Be Arrested
Andy and Rita need to go arrest Julie's father for what he has done to her. Her mother needs to be set straight on a bunch of things too. I think it would be nice to see their reaction if this whole thing is turned around on them and they are the ones who have to answer the tough questions. I hope Julie can get past all this with help from Stephanie and the love from her "real" family. Her parents don't deserve to be called parents. Parents like these two infuriate me! Rita was exactly right that Julie was not a boy at all.
Filing A False Report
In some places, you can be arrested for making a false complaint, or what they call "filing a false report."
Now that one has plenty of evidence!
Go get those wretched parents!
75 th dozen
Isn't that the diamond jubilee of dozens :).
Thanks to Bonzi! Your special story sauce.
Cathy is beginning to get more savvy of using her notoriety and social position. She would have far less latitude being Jane Public given this situation.
She will only be idolized the more in Julie's eyes, no doubt.
My heartfelt thanks again.
Kim
What a major twit Julie's
What a major twit Julie's father is. I agree with the other comments that he and possibly Julie's mum should both be arrested and charged with child abuse, both on the physical level and the mental level. This toad needs to be taken down a notch or two, not only for Julie's sake, but to teach him a real life lesson, which is "treat others as you would want to be treated". Jan
Julie
It seems that Cathy and Julie need to discuss where her parents are likely to frequent. Avoidance is good. What will her dad do now. I suspect something rotten comimg.
Huggles
Chelle_MM
EAFOAB 75 dozen
Looks like you still have enough ideas for this story line :)
Please continue till at least 147 dozen! (now why is that a special number for me?)
M
Martina
1764
Why is it special?
Um - the year of your birth?
The beginning of the rot in Boston, leading to loss of the colonies?
Britain invalidated paper money printed in America?
The East India Co won the battle of Pondicherry?
Lord Bute resgned as Brtish PM?
I know, Chersey and Hambledon played each other three times in the cricket season.
Angharad
Angharad
147 dozen
not quite, it has more to do with fiction for people who cannot count to three... ;-)
M
Martina
“That’s no boy, I don’t care what her parents said"
I just loved that line from the WPC. So, do the police head back to the Kemps' to caution them about child abuse, assault, and filing false police reports? Maybe they'll flip out and assault the police, making it a lot easier to arrest them.
Amazing! is'nt it
Five minutes in Cathy's company and she has the two police officers eating out of her hand, Although if they had bothered to check there records first, Maybe they could have saved themselves a journey!
Perhaps though, Now that Julie's parents have contacted the police regarding Julie's apparent abduction, It might be time for Julie to tell the police and tell them just how her father used her as a punchbag...If nothing else it should stop him from bothering his daughter in the future.
Well done Angharad for reaching part CM only C to go before M ( Guess thats what comes from falling off my bike 900 times...Your brain starts ROMANing!!!
Kirri
In my experience
most UK police forces still use paper to record incidents, and don't conmmunicate with other forces, let alone members of the same force.
A shame really, as the vast majority of police officers only want to uphold the law and prevent crime.
Congrats from me also, Angharad, on reaching episode 900 and, as long as you continue to enjoy writing this saga, I'll enjoy reading it.
Susie
Self Support.
I love Cathy's determination to make all her charges, (kids) self sufficient. It's just so important that kids, when they finally get to leave home, should have as few stresses as possible.
Confidence with preparing food is one huge factor that can enable kids to learn to manage and give them the confidence to do so.
They're going to have enough problems with rent, utilities, council tax, (if it's pertinant,) housing, and all the other boring stuff, not to mention the vital emotional stuff like loneliness, personal security, relationships and God knows what else.
Hope that bloody awful transphobic yob of a father gets his cum-uppance.
Keep writing Angharad.
Wonderful stuff.
Beverly.
Beverly Taff.
This is wierd. I haven't changed my password but the site wont dispayl all my thingies at the side like 'Submit Story'!
You can be reading a nice easy-going episode with
enjoyable banter between the principals then suddenly it all changes. At least this wasn't russian terrorists. Julie's parents can be handled, especially if they get (more) abusive.
dunno how ya do it
I mean I think you have a life yet here you are most days plonking up another piece of this ongoing saga and I know if it's not there when I get a chance to peek in most mornings it's an oh bum moment. Sure it gets a bit out there at times but mostly sticks to real and touches all sorts of stuff that many will think on or nod or wonder at.
I don't comment all that often but I always appreciate it even when now and then I roll the eyes a bit, pedal on as long as it's fun Ang. 900, bloody hell.... I feel all inadequate like.
Kris
Us numberfreaks
We have found something else with the number 900.
have you realized that 900 = 1 * 2 * 3 * 5 * 1 * 2 * 3 * 5 ?
That is the first four prime numbers mutiplied with each other two times
Thank You Angharad for the fantastic story!
Ginnie
GinnieG
Put Another Way...
...that's 22 * 32 * 52
Pretty impressive!
By the way, the next number in this same sequence is 44100.
police
I was thinking - you'd think locally at least, every police officer would know exactly whom Cathy was & not be playing silly games. least 10 have died tring to protect her, she's been responsible for dismisal of least two that I can think of. so many have been to Tom's in reguards to one thing or another. PLUS, TOM's house is susposedly on ALERT watch.
All Point Bulliten
Do Not Harass This Woman. Do Not Hit This Woman. This person is a favorite of the Queen, and should be treated accordingly.
If she requests assistance pray your affairs are in order, and check out a gun if there is time. Prepare for more blood and gore than most people see in a life time, and hope your stations walls are thicker than most.
This family is just one calamity after the other
I know a few lovely Russian gentlemen I'd like for you to meet.
Well, in person Julie's parents are even worse then over the phone.
Are there no parents out there who accepted their child's Dysphoria and were supportive and loving ?
Your Constables are even more humourless then ours are. Thank Dog for Andy.
Cefin