This story just came to me. Out of the blue. I suppose I could have expanded it and divided it up into chapters and there's huge scope to take different threads to various ends but for now it's a stand alone. Each of the 'threads' leaves tantalising potentials for further stories. I might come back to different threads if and when I've hit a dry spot or summat'

Enjoy.

Beverly.

---

The Rescue.

I’d just completed a ‘sixty-miler’ that Friday afternoon and I was wheeling my bike up the garden path with a sense of some satisfaction and well-being. As I reached back into the built-in ‘bum-bag’ of my unitard to dig out the keys to the side gate I heard the first scream coming from the street.

“God! These kids seem to get noisier every year,” I thought to myself as the lock unlatched and I gently pushed the gate open with the front wheel of my road racer bike. This time it was some school girl bursting her lungs at what I presumed was yet another schoolgirl tiff on the way home from school. The screams and noises in the street when the school let the kids out for home-time had become a regular afternoon chorus of disruption for our street. The main school gates formed the end of a cul-de-sac and the only way out for the whole school was down our street. The school had one of the worst catchment areas in the city and the daily mayhem had become a regular ordeal for my neighbours. The kid’s behaviour seemed to deteriorate year on year.
Cars in the street got scratched, garden shrubs got broken and a veritable cascade of rubbish and litter followed every ‘home time’.

I knew my neighbours were sick and tired of the problems but the only woman on the street who had tried to instigate a campaign to address the situation had ended up getting her car trashed and her windows smashed. Now the local residents, who were mostly single mothers themselves or elderly couples or widows, simply closed their doors and watched to try and make sure that their particular property wasn’t targeted and then they silently offered up a prayer of thanks after the last child had passed.

‘Where were the police?’ Do I hear?

Dream on, this is Britain circa 2010.

I was the only single guy on the street but I kept myself strictly to myself. Besides, if a grown man touched a kid in politically correct Britain these days, well; he was done for.

Every agency in the country would be down on him for molesting one of the little bastards no matter what the little thug had done. I worked nights as the maintenance engineer from Monday through to Thursday at a large bottle factory.
I rarely saw my neighbours except to check in daily on Mrs Todd next door ,or chat to Harry who backed on to my house, and then offer the odd ‘hello’ to the other immediate neighbours on Fridays and weekends when I got my bike out in the mid morning and peddled off into the clear, blue yonder. Out of town the smoke and smells from the local steel works gradually faded to rural insignificance. I used to choose my cycling destinations based on wind direction to avoid the smoke and smells of the steel-works. A couple of miles out of town, there were rural bicycle trails that offered mile upon mile of traffic free peace and rustification.

The school kids were not much of a problem for me. As a working guy with a steady salary I had been able to ‘Case Harden’ my house against most forms of antisocial behaviour. The whole of the front garden had been concreted over thus there was nothing in the front that could be vandalised. The side gate was a substantial steel plate and frame that complemented the high boundary wall that surrounded my end-of-terrace back garden except for the large double garage with the automatic steel doors that housed my car, my transit van and my bicycles. Even though my house was nearest to the school, its high walls and steel security furniture ensured that ‘Fort Beverly’ was virtually impregnable whilst also ensuring that nobody could see into my garden or garage. As a final ‘back-stop’ I had installed ‘hidden cameras’ at critical positions around my house, Mrs Todd’s house and Harry’s garage behind me. Harry was happy to have a camera checking over his garage and his precious pigeons whilst also checking out our mutual side lane entrances. Short of smashing my windows in, (and so far that hadn’t happened to me,) I was fairly safe from the mayhem. I kept a low profile normally going out on my bike in the early afternoon on Mondays to Thursdays then returning in the evening after the school herds had passed through. Fridays was the only day I was likely to meet the kids when I came home from cycling early to get prepared for my weekends. I usually did a much longer ride on Fridays, leaving in the early morning and returning about three to fourish.

This Friday had been just like hundreds of others except for the hysterical screaming in the street. I sighed angrily as I locked my bike away and the screaming was still persisting.

Blocking my ears to the familiar refrain, I stepped inside my back door and glanced through the front window to see a crowd gathered on the pavement directly outside my low garden wall. Then I saw the reasons for the screaming.
The fight was now spilling over the wall onto my concrete forecourt and I could readily see several boys kicking the daylights out of a single kid who was trying desperately to escape. The screaming girl was desperately trying to stop the beating but was having little effect. The boy’s face was a mass of blood and bruises while his blood-stained shirt and tee-shirt were ripped to shreds. It was only then that I noticed the torn bloodied remains of a bra under the kid’s clothes.

With the fight now firmly entrenched by my waist high front wall, the problem had become mine. I cursed as I was forced now to take some sort of action. If the crowd of ‘onlookers’ now spilling into my property got any bigger there was a possibility of damage to my stuff like a window being pushed in or something. Knowing how things had deteriorated in latter day Britain if a kid fell onto my window and cut himself, I, the householder would probably be held accountable. I was now forced to act. Even as I stepped into the hall there was a furious hammering on my door knocker.

“Mister! Mister! Help!”

The screaming girl was now trying to get protection for the boy. Lots of school-kids knew I lived right next door to the school. I was the only adult man on the block! Plenty of kids had seem me cleaning my car or sweeping my front forecourt of the rubbish in the mornings after I got home from work and before I took a sleep before going cycling.

I flung my door open angrily and demanded to know what the f--k was going on. It was a rhetorical question but my shout momentarily startled the attackers and they hesitated. The boy grabbed his chance and literally crawled over my wall onto my forecourt.

The attackers followed him over the wall but they promptly desisted as I sprang out of my door and made as if to grab one of the sods. I actually collared the biggest kid and flung him violently off my forecourt before one of the others pulled a knife.

It was his biggest mistake for now my adrenaline was pumping and I was still in my cycling gear including the shoes with the metal clips on the soles. The Lycra unitard enabled me to move freely and the boy received a vicious kick before he had realised what I was doing. He let out a squeal of pain as the metal clip paralysed his wrist and he dropped the knife as he lurched fearfully to the sanctuary of the street. With that the whole gang ran and I was now confronted with the bloodied mess staining the concrete of my forecourt. The victim was in a bad way and the girl was sobbing over him. Firstly I had to clear the puerile mob of onlookers who were still sniggering even as the beaten kid appeared to be bleeding to death. In a rage I swore at them and made another token grab at one of the larger boys to emphasise my disgust.

They scattered from my forecourt, which was exactly what I wanted them to do, but they still hung around on the pavement outside as they continued staring at the bleeding wreck on my forecourt. As I bent down to examine the kid the girl was already dialling 999 on her mobile. She asked for an ambulance and I had to remind her to also ask for the police. Then I took the phone from her hysterical grasp and relayed what details I could to the emergency services.

“Yeah, severe bleeding from the ears and mouth, extensive bruising all over, concussion apparently, it’s pretty serious, - yes, upstairs in my back bedroom, you’ll find a blanket, - no I’m not moving him. Yes, No 1 School Street, Sandhills, and they’ll need a forensics team, there’s a knife lying untouched on my forecourt.

I was indirectly talking to several people at once here, the ambulance service, the police and the girl who I presumed to be the boy’s friend or even his sister. Once the emergency services were sorted I gave the girl her phone back and carefully continued checking the boy out. Unfortunately he was out cold so I had no way of even beginning to assess his condition.

There were no obvious broken long bones but his ribs were badly bruised and his head was swollen like a pumpkin. I was afraid for the kid. All I could do was make sure he wasn’t deteriorating. The girl started to phone her parents.

“Hello Mam, - yes. It’s James; they’ve had another go at him. It’s serious this time. - Yes, were in this man’s garden, James is unconscious and bleeding. _Yes, of course we’ve called an ambulance, - and the police. — Cos that Bastard David Evans pulled a bloody knife!

No, nobody’s been stabbed, the man disarmed him. — Yes he’s here now.”

The girl handed her phone back to me. “My mam wants to speak to you.”

“Hello. Beverly Taff here.”

The mother was distraught.

“Oh thank God. Is it serious, my boy, - James”

“Uhm, I’m not sure. He’s unconscious and he’s bleeding from the ears. That’s not good.”

“I’m coming over straight away.” Is my daughter Candice okay?”

I asked Candice by name if she was okay and she nodded as I advised her mother.

“You’d best go straight to casualty. I can hear the ambulance now. I’ve got to go.”

I shut off the phone and handed it back to Candice as I realised that James was arresting. Despite the blood being smeared all over his mouth and lips I had to give him cardiac massage and mouth to mouth. Candice became hysterical and started screaming at the crowd that they had killed her brother. Her cries brought old Mrs Todd out from next door and she immediately started shooing the crowd of on-looking children away. I wanted to stop her but I was too busy trying to give mouth to mouth to a boy whose breath was frothing with blood. I was coughing and spluttering from having accidently inhaled some of the froth myself as first the police car arrived followed immediately by the ambulance. The crowd now dispersed immediately for no-one wanted to be implicated. Candice swore at them and cursed them while Old Mrs Todd hobbled into my forecourt to comfort the girl as the police immediately sorted the kids out. The paramedics arrived and I blessed them as they immediately took over my task with infinitely greater expertise. I stood up with my face and cycling unitard covered in blood as I wiped the blood from my lips before pointing out the blood-stained knife to the police.

“That’s got finger-prints. You’ll need it.”

The copper nodded and looked around but all the kids had now dispersed.

“Has the boy been stabbed?” He asked me.

“I don’t know, I don’t think so.”

“No he hasn’t,” Candice offered. “The bastard only pulled it when this man kicked their arses.”

By this time more police cars were wailing down the street and the crime scene was being isolated. The paramedics proved magnificent as a defibrillator shocked the boy back to life and they declared the boy James had a pulse again and that he was breathing. I sagged with relief as they carefully secured his head then gently eased him onto a stretcher.
It was all very ‘high-tech’ from then on as the hoist lifted him ever so gently into the ambulance and they set off for the hospital. Candice squealed that she wanted to go with him so a Police woman joined her in the ambulance to get an early statement while things were still fresh in the girl’s mind. Meanwhile one of the other officers asked me for my statement. By now the police numbered about a dozen I guess, plus the police woman who’d gone in the ambulance

We’d like to take some photographs of your appearance then I’d like a statement.

“What, here or inside my house?”

“Best here in the forecourt if you wish, it will better show the state of the scene here. D’you mind that?”

I shrugged. The only issue I had was that my activity unitard was actually a woman’s unitard but not many people would have known that and anyway it was now almost unrecognisable for it was now covered in blood, - James’s blood. I stood in various positions as the forensic officer took a series of pictures then the police officer spoke to me again.

“Shall we go inside? They’ll be dealing with the crime scene now.”

I nodded then pointed to my blood stained cycling shoes.

“Yes, but please! I’ve got white, deep pile carpets. We’ll both have to remove our shoes.”

“Yes, quite.” The officer agreed as he slipped them off in the porch. I followed suit and I noticed his eyes widen slightly as he noticed the passionate red nail varnish on my toes. I don’t wear socks when cycling in the summer. I led him into the kitchen where I had to remove my blood stained unitard and his eyes widened further at my bra and panties, especially my size B to C breasts. Normally the bra band of the unitard tends to compress them and disguise them. My breasts weren’t an issue for me though; in fact I had grown them of my own volition. I regularly met with Sergeant Williams, the community, hate-crime police officer at a monthly transgendered venue that I attended so I had lost all reservations when dealing with the police. However I didn't 'shove it in their faces.

“I’ll go and have a very quick shower. It’s just there in the utility room extension. Make yourself a cup of tea or coffee and I’ll be out quickly.”

He nodded and I slipped into my downstairs shower. I emerged in minutes having only shower-gelled myself all over and rinsed off the blood. I dug out some clean lingerie from the pile (I don’t have any male underwear.) then slipped on a tee-shirt and jeans. In the mirror, by breasts showed quite noticeably under the tee-shirt and ordinarily I’d have also slipped on a loose fitting shirt but here I was in my own home. Carefully I picked my way around the blood stained unitard and we settled in my front room to watch the crime scene officers busy on my forecourt. As he produced a notebook and tape recorder we settled in my comfy armchairs and settee.

After relating everything I could remember he nodded with satisfaction then looked pointedly at the outline of my bra under my tee-shirt.

“I noticed that James had a bra on. Does he know about you?”

“No. Not as far as I know. If anybody around here knew they’d probably make their feelings known pretty graphically; you know, graffiti and all that.”

“He wasn’t trying to find sanctuary or something?”

“No but his sister Candice came hammering on my door. I’m pretty sure she didn’t know either; I think it was just a panic stricken cry for help. She probably knows a grown man lives here. Most of the kids have seen me washing my car and stuff in the mornings.”

“Well that’s good. I don’t think we need dwell any further.”

“Thanks and please keep my tranny thing under your hat. I own this house from when my mother and I bought it under ‘right to buy’. When my dad was killed in the Steel-works she used the compensation money to buy the house. I don’t want to have to leave if people find out.”

He nodded understandingly as I elaborated.

“Sergeant William’s the hate crimes officer knows about me, so it’s no secret to the police.”

“Do any of the neighbours know?”

“Not to my knowledge. The only person I regularly speak to is Mrs Todd. I check in on her every day. Her old tom-cat Rastus regularly gets trapped in my back garden because of the high walls. He’s getting too old to climb so it’s a nice bit of good neighbourliness when I take him round and she gives me a cup of tea by way of thank-you. I help her with man stuff around her house as well and the health visitor does her cleaning while I do her shopping.”

“That’s very neighbourly of you, especially for a bloke.”

I smiled then grinned as I fingered the noticeable out line of my bra and gently squeezed my breasts.

“Not wholly a bloke officer. There’s a lot of girly in me. Besides I owe it to Mrs Todd, she looked after me as a kid when mam had to go out to work after dad died then she helped my mam in the latter years.”

“Yes. Am I right in supposing your walls are so high to give you a bit of privacy?”

“Exactly but I put the story around that it’s to keep undesirables out; which they do. I’m the end of the row so my high walls lend protection to everybody from burglars. You’ll see that there is no back lane so the guy Harry, who ‘backs on’ to me did the same with his walls by also building a garage and his pigeon loft. Now the whole of this end’s back gardens are safe from burglary."

He nodded and sipped his tea.

"Well thanks for the tea. We’ll be getting in touch and Sergeant Williams will be calling later this evening.

“I was thinking of popping around to the casualty unit, to see how the kid is. I’ll be able to reassure the mother about the boy wearing a bra. She’ll feel a little safer once she knows there’s somebody else looking out for her kid.”

“D’you think that’s wise?”

I smiled patronisingly at the officer.

“The kid’s going to need support. I was where that kid was many years ago and then some. Besides, Sergeant Williams knows all about me, he knows I’m not a child abuser or something. Oh, and don’t worry I’ll be turning up in ‘drab’ at the casualty unit.”

“Drab?” He frowned uncomprehendingly.

“Male mode.” I clarified for him. “It’s tranny-speak as in the opposite of ‘Drag’ Nobody will know I’m wearing a bra and panties under my jeans, shirt and jacket.”

The officer grinned and shook my hand.

“You did well out there. Not many people will tackle a bunch of yobs these days. By the way, I'm sorry I'll have to ask you to give me that cycling thing. It's evidence of the extent of the boy's injuries.”

"Be my guest. I've got several unitards."

"Oh. Is that what you call them?"

I nodded as he repeated.

You were brave out there. It's good to see somebody stop these kids.

“Yeah, tell that to the neighbours they go in mortal dread around here at school times.”

“Have you thought about a neighbourhood watch scheme?”

“Speak to Sally Hopkins at number seven, she’ll tell you what happened to her when she tried.”

“Oh yes, the window smashing incidents.”

“And the threats and intimidation. She’s a single mum with kids in that very same school. She’s had a nightmare.”

“But that’s been cleared up.”

“Only inasmuch as the kids that year have all left. Now there’s a new crop of thugs.”

“Aren’t you intimidated?”

“No, though I keep myself to myself. You already know why. My house is like ‘Fort Apache, but that you also know. The only way they can get at me is smashing my windows unless they go for vandalism big time. Besides, I’m at home when they come out each afternoon. I work night shifts three and sometimes four nights a week.”

“You’d be ideal for neighbourhood watch.”

“No way. I don’t ask for trouble. I watch out for myself, oh, and Old Mrs Todd, - and her cat Rastus. She was awfully kind to my mam during her final years. I return the favour now. She’s very frail now but a good hearted old dear. You’ll note that she had the courage to come out once she saw me and felt safe enough.”

“Yes. She’ll be an excellent witness.”

“Sweet little old lady; yeah, I expect that’ll be better than ‘The crazy, cycling tranny’ in the girly unitard.”

“That’s not fair Mr Taff. You’re putting yourself down. You’ll get all the support we can offer.”

“Tell that to the defence barrister when they show the pictures of me in my unitard with boobs.”

“Oh they’re not that obvious. I didn’t really notice until you took the unitard off and I saw your bra.”

“No, the unitard squeezes them to give support when I’m cycling but you can bet those barristers will out me if they realise it’s a girly unitard.”

“If they do, you might be able to sue them for transphobic abuse.”

“Chance would be a fine thing. Besides once I’m outed the neighbourhood abuse is bound to start.”

“I’ll speak to Sergeant Williams about that. The DPP might be able to rein the barristers in if this gets as far as crown court.”

“It will. That boy with the knife; I heard James’s sister Candice name him as David Evans. In Welsh David is Dewi. I think he is the son of a scumbag called Dewi Evans or David Evans; - his father is a big noise hereabouts, councillor and all that. I noticed the similarity straight away after Candice had named him.”

“Oh! That Dewi Evans.”

“Exactly.”

The police officer frowned. Councillor Dewi Evans was a pretty shrewd and mean operator. He never actually broke the law but he sailed pretty close to the wind and he had a lot of people in his pocket including most of the other councillors. If the boy with a knife was the son of the scum-bag councillor, things could get difficult for me. I decided to check out my secret security cameras after all the hoo-hah had died down. If they showed what I hoped they showed, I was home and dry.

For the moment though there was little I could do so I left the police to their forensics and explained to the interviewing officer that I was going to the Casualty unit.

“Good luck Beverly. Take care and don’t disclose your transvestism unless it’ll serve some useful purpose.”

“Thanks officer,” I replied as I eased my car out of the side lane that gave my end of terrace house space to have built my garage and protect my car and transit van at least from the vandals. The lane also served to give me a very private access to and from my house. It was an unadopted short cut to a small winding lane that led to the trading estate. The other side of the lane was the huge blank brick wall of the school science bloc forming the other boundary. Harry; the other householder who backed onto me had by tacit agreement, joined with me to usually leave one of our cars or more often my transit van in the side lane to prevent commercial vehicles using the illegal shortcut. During the day it was not easy to see me or him coming and going and by night it was virtually impossible. The arrangement perfectly suited my secret comings and goings when dressed. Harry also worked shifts in the steel works so the lane arrangement also suited his irregular comings and goings. Neither of us ‘disturbed’ the neighbours. Our cars could just squeeze past each other and my van if and when we wanted to use our own private short cut.
The interview officer watched me discreetly ease my car past my own van down our shared private egress and I could see his mind working out the logistics. I could leave the house dressed without being noticed, especially at night and more especially if I used the van with no rear and side windows.

My back-to-back neighbour Harry was happy about my van for he had availed himself of its carrying capacity several times. Thus I kept him sweet without getting too friendly or familiar. We rubbed along well and we saw each other regularly when his rotating night shifts coincided with mine but otherwise we rarely had cause to talk for we had nothing in common. I didn’t breed pigeons and Harry didn’t cross dress.

I arrived at the casualty unit and explained my visit to the reception. They wouldn’t tell me anything because I was not a relative but they told Candice that I was there. She came out of the emergency rooms with red rimmed eyes that told of her distress.

“What’s the news?”

“He’s going to live but they’re going to keep him in a coma until the brain swelling goes down. It might be up to a month or even more.”

“He’s had a bad beating then.”

“Yes and thank you ever so much for saving his life. I didn’t know what to do.”

“Is your mum in there?”

“Yes. She’s talking to the Casualty consultant.”

“Okay. I’m going for a coffee, can you tell your mum I’d like to speak to her and do you want a coffee?”

She nodded as tears started again so I gave her shoulders a squeeze and slipped away to get the coffees.

I found that doing something was so much better than just waiting around so the coffee thing was to occupy my mind. When I came back with three coffees and a plastic tray with some scones her mother was there looking even more distressed than Candice.

“So what’s the prognosis?”

“They can’t say yet,” replied the sobbing mother, “there may be permanent brain damage”.

I tried to reassure her.

“They’re usually pessimistic about these things. We’ll just have to wait and see.”

She slumped into a plastic chair that almost broke with the impact and continued crying in loud explosive sobs. Candice joined her and I had to endure a loud wailing contest for a solid five minutes. Finally the mother recovered her composure and turned to me.

“Candice says you saved James’s life.”

“Well, I’m not sure about that. The ambulance arrived in only a couple of minutes. The ambulance station is just down the road from my house.”

“Even so, the consultant said in James’s case those few puffs of air made all the difference.”

“Well I’m pleased to have been of some use.”

She smiled wanly and seemed to be struggling with something else. I guessed what it was. Eventually she spoke again.

“James isn’t a big boy or a strong one. He’s small for his age.”

“How old is he?” I asked.

“Fifteen.”

“Oh yes, then he is small for his age.”

“Candice says you know about his uuhhm, his uuhhm, his little problem.”

“I couldn’t ignore it; I had to rip the bra off to give him cardiac massage. The under-wiring had been torn from the cup and it was sticking in his chest. Not deep mind, but I couldn’t leave it there whilst thumping hard on his ribs.”

“You don’t seem angry or upset by it.”

“I had no time to be upset, James had arrested.”

“I know, Candice told the surgeon and me everything. I can’t thank you enough. You’ve just saved my son and you haven’t said anything about the bra thing.”

“And now here I am buying you coffee. Samaritan or what?” I smiled my widest smile to reassure her again.

“Doesn’t it bother you?”

“What?”

“The, - the cross, - the cross dressing stuff.”

“No.” I replied quite firmly to emphasise my view.

She studied me for long minutes as I fiddled with the tiny paper sachets that brought me endless frustration. I love my coffee milky and sweet so when I bought one in places like the casualty unit I invariably had to take about six little plastic containers of milk or cream and about twelve sachets of sugar. Making my coffee to my liking was always an irksome fiddle. It mattered not that I had a sweet tooth cos the cycling easily burned off excess calories.

“I wish my husband had been as easy about it as you.” She sighed.

I glanced at her over the rim of my plastic coffee cup but said nothing. I was thinking of the police officer’s advice. ‘Don’t reveal it unless you think it’s going to do some good.’ So far nothing constructive had revealed itself worthy enough to induce me to ‘come out’. The mother continued staring at me thoughtfully.

“What’s your name by the way? Candice didn’t tell me.”

I hesitated. I called myself Beverly Taff but that wasn’t actually my real name though it served perfectly well for the vast majority of issues. Beverly is both a boy’s and a girl’s name in Britain so the shortened version of ‘Bev’ gets by for me. The only person who knew my real name was Old Mrs Todd. She had known me all my life because we had been neighbours all my life. However, although she had no idea why I used the name, she was happy to let it ride and when other people referred to me as ‘Beverly’ Mrs Todd didn’t bother to correct them. What was more important to Mrs Todd was having a thoughtful caring neighbour who also treated her beloved cat Rastus with care and affection. I decided the name Beverly would work equally well with James’s mother.

“Beverly Taff. What’s yours?”

“Madge. Short for Margaret; Margaret Beckinsale.”

“That’s not Welsh,” I smiled.”

“No it’s Yorkshire. My husband and I moved down here from Yorkshire when the new steelworks rolling mill opened.

I nodded agreeably and took the first sip of my milky coffee.

“My husband left me only this May.” She added.

Again I said nothing. There seemed nothing that I could say. Commenting on other people’s partners was always a minefield.

“Are you married?” Madge asked.

I lowered my eyes and wagged my head. I was just past thirty six but despite having had several brief entanglements, I had avoided the trap. It didn’t do for trannies to get married and my recent forays into the internet directed world of transvestite associations had only served to reinforce my conclusions. Nearly all the T Girls I had met at various tranny functions had suffered traumatic divorce experiences often leaving them broke financially and bitterly disillusioned. I was really lucky to have escaped that particular catastrophe, mainly because I suppose I was a coward. I was just a ‘middle thirty something’, had a reasonably secure, fairly well paid, pensionable job, where I was more or less my own boss. I owned my own house and had a tidy sum put by. By today’s standards I suppose that would make me ‘comfortably well off’.

I had no stress in my life except for the school kids’ home-time issues but that had hardly affected me up until today. Any stress I might accumulate during the week was invariably dissipated by my trannying at weekends. All in all I led a pretty contented life.

Sometimes I visited a regular prostitute called Barbara whilst dressed but that was far away from my home. Hey who said I was a goodie-goodie?

The girl Barbara appeared to own her own home and she seemed fairly happy about her situation. There didn’t seem to be a pimp in her life so I couldn’t be accused of contributing to some woman’s enforced misery. Because I passed fairly well, she even came shopping for clothes with me and that entailed all day Saturday in Birmingham or Manchester. A pimp might have forced her to simply ‘put out and pay up,’ not waste time shopping all day Saturday. Whatever, I didn’t ask her any questions and she didn’t volunteer. Our arrangement worked.

On learning I was not married Madge became curious.

“Have you been married?”

“No.” I replied monosyllabically, “never.”

She looked at me silently and I could hear the gears whirring in her brain. My hair was longish and well cared for, my nails were neat and then she noticed they were shining slightly. She peered closely and realised I was wearing clear varnish nail protector. Finally the penny dropped and her jaw sagged slightly. For long moments she hesitated as she was obviously wondering how to put the question then she whispered softly, so softly that even Candice wouldn’t hear.

“Are you like James; - are you the same as my son?”

I glanced at my smooth, shiny, well manicured nails and nodded silently.

“Possibly.”

“You, - you’re transsexual!”

“No,” I corrected her, “I’m transvestite.”

“Isn’t it the same?”

“No. Not at all. Is James a transsexual then?”

She nodded shamefacedly but I gently took her trembling hands.

“Hey, come on now. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. It’s how God made him or more correctly’ her. I’m how God made me.”

“Oh. You understand then?”

“Not fully. I’ve never met James except to kiss him.”

For a moment she looked shock so I mimed cardiac massage and mouth-to-mouth then she grinned with relief.

“Oh; - of course, - the respiration thing. You’re funny.”

I smiled and sipped my coffee again as I stood up.

“Well. I’m sorry I’ve got to go. I work shifts. Will you be staying here all night?”

The shifts thing was a little white lie insofar as it was Friday but I wanted to get on. There was a big event planned at ‘The Butterflies’ and I didn’t want to miss the start. I usually helped out with the preparations in Sandie’s house then I helped serve drinks and food. I’d already phoned her to explain why I would be late.

Madge confirmed that she was staying then she looked at Candice and back at me.

“Will you give Candice a lift home? She’s going to get some clean underwear. You’ll understand.”

For a moment I didn’t follow then I realised. James was cross-dressing full time underneath. Candice looked at me questioningly then her mother caught her eye.

“Mr Taff understands about James. You’ll be okay.”

Candice’s eyes widened slightly then she wolfed down her scone, finished her coffee and followed me out. In my car she opened up.

“What did mum mean when she said you understood?”

“I understand about James and her transgenderism. When is she starting transitioning?”

Candice’s eyes stared with surprise as her jaw sagged.

“How d’you know all about that?”

“Let’s just say I understand. Has James decided on a femme name yet?”

Her eyes widened again as I slowly intimated my familiarity, understanding and all importantly, my acceptance of transgenderism. With each sentence I was drip feeding Candice with confidence boosting information. Then I asked her bluntly.

“Are you happy with James’s transgenderism?”

“Of course. He can’t help what he is. Besides, I’ll get to have a sister.”

“So what is his femme name going to be?”

“We children were thinking Jamie but mum prefers Janet. “

I grinned as we pulled out of the hospital car park.

“Parents usually get to choose their children’s names; it’s one of the few privileges left to them these days.”

Candice smiled again them asked me.

“Which do you think is the better name?”

“Oooh,” I sighed with a smile, “I’ll not be drawn into this one. Either way I’ll upset you two children or your mother. I’ve got enough complications in my life.”

“Like what?”

“Haven’t you worked it out yet?”

Candice’s jaw finally reached the floor as she realised what I was driving at then she let out a gasp and squealed with joyous relief.

“Oh my God! Oh my bloody God! You’re the same, - the same as Jamie!”

“No. Not quite Candice. Your mum says Jamie is a transsexual, I’m a transvestite but don’t spread it around.”

“What’s the difference?”

“Oh my God girl how long have you got?”

“Is it complicated then?”

“Sometimes, let’s just say Transvestites dress because they need to, transsexuals are not cross dressing, except if they are forced to wear the clothes of their apparent birth gender. James wearing the boy uniform at school is technically cross-dressing. As a girl, which is what she is, she should be wearing a skirt when attending school.”

“Yeah and then.”

She shrugged to indicate reference to the beating her brother had just received.

“Exactly. I understand Candice. It was me that rescued her, remember.”

“You keep saying her or she. That’s nice.”

“If she’s transsexual then I’m presuming she’s a transsexual girl. I suppose you’ve had it explained to you. James is a girl with the wrong plumbing.”

“Yeah. That’s how she explained it to me. Dad went ballistic and left us. He’s even changed jobs and now works for the same company up north. You turn right here.”

I parked the car and waited outside with the offer to run her back. She accepted and reappeared quickly with a bag of assorted girl stuff. We chatted some more on the way back then rejoined Madge in the casualty unit. Finally I had to make my excuses. I had other commitments and responsibilities to Sandie at ‘Butterflies’.

On the way out I bumped into Sergeant Williams.

“Oh I’m glad I met you Bev. How is he?”

“He’s just come round but he’s in intense pain. They’re going to put him back into a coma to ease the trauma effects.”

“Damn! Can he talk?”

“I don’t know. You’d best see the doctors.”

“Okay. Can I see you tomorrow?”

“Yes but make it in the early afternoon. I’m going to Butterflies at Sandie’s tonight so I’ll be sleeping in.”

“So was I until this. I was going to give another talk.”

“If Jamie’s in a coma there won’t be much you can do. Shall I tell Sandie?”

“I’ll phone her once I know the situation here. I might see you at Sandie’s, if not, see you tomorrow Bev.”

“Bye.”

Back home I visited Mrs Todd with my usual duty, returning Rastus. We talked about the trouble then I made my excuses. I was an hour late getting to Sandie’s but Sergeant Williams had already phoned ahead. The Saga of Beverly and the attack on the transsexual girl was already known amongst my friends at Butterflies. I spent half the evening playing maid and the other half trying to play down the heroine title.

Sergeant Williams managed to make it late and gave his talk then we chatted at length about the situation. I still hadn’t revealed that I had video footage because I wanted to use that as a last resort and backup. I knew the Evans family well, and knew what sort of tricks they pulled. Councillor Dewi Evans had a lot of pull with the higher-ups in the local police. I trusted Sergeant Williams but if I let everybody know that there was a video there was no knowing what stunts might be pulled by Evan’s cronies. Best to let sleeping dogs lie; for now at least. Butterflies started to run down by three o’clock and I drove home to bed after copying the video footage onto several memory sticks.

At lunchtime I was preparing lunch with Mrs Todd when her daughter Jennifer arrived from London. Jennifer was a successful Barrister and QC at the tender age of thirty five. She had heard about the incident and had come down to offer her services while simultaneously checking up on her mum.

Mrs Todd had always held secret hopes of Jennifer and me getting it together but Jennifer was lesbian and I of course had my own issues. Mrs Todd had some idea about Jennifer’s sexuality and it was the only disappointment in her long life. Nevertheless Jenny and I still hit it off. We chatted at length about legal issues and I described my concerns about the Evans’s. Jennifer also knew them well for we had grown up together as next door neighbours. Mr Todd, her dad had had several run-ins with them before he died.

When Sergeant Williams arrived later that afternoon, he was surprised and pleased to meet Jennifer. Our chat lasted into the evening before he left and Jennifer and I were left to our own devices.

“So Here I am Beverly, a single girl down from the smoke, at a loose end in a huckster one-horse town on a Saturday night. What are we going to do?”

I cursed silently for I had another club night organised with Sandie and a couple of the other t-girls. We were going to a gay and transgendered club up in Cardiff. I debated coming out to her for it seemed more and more people were getting to know. After making a cup of coffee I sat her down for a chat.

“Listen Jen,” I started, “I had a night out planned tonight with some friends. How broad-minded are you.”

“Oh Come on Beverly, may I call you Bev?”

I nodded as she continued.

“You must have worked it out by now Bev. Why d’you think I left huckster town?”

“Yes. I had realised. Long ago in fact. That’s why I’m sounding you out now. Would you like to come with me on this night out; - and no funny business.” It’s in Cardiff, all very anonymous.”

“What is it?”

“It’s a sort of gay club.”

“No! You’re pulling my chain! You? Gay!! Oh this is just so precious!”

“Uuhhm, I’m not gay Jenny.”

“Oh. So why the gay club?”

“It’s not entirely a gay club; it caters for alternatives as well.”

“Ahh! So now the truth is revealed. Go on Bev.”

“I’m an alternative life-styler.”

“What sort?”

“I’m a tranny.”

Jennifer hardly reacted at all.

“Well thank God for that. So you’ll be going out dressed tonight.”

“Yes. Shall we meet about eightish? We can use my van. Nobody can see much.”

“Aahh! Of course! The Van, the tranny van. Oh that’s a bon motte if ever there was one.”

“Yes Jenny, old joke. D’you want to hear any jokes about Holland?”

She fell silent then nodded ruefully.

“Yeah. Okay, point taken and yes I’d love to come with you. I couldn’t think of a better night out. So this weekend hasn’t
been a total waste.”

“Surely you don’t think that of your mum. She’s not a waste! She’s lovely.”

“Yes. She is, except she can’t accept what I am. She doesn’t mind the sexuality thing it’s the idea of no grand children.”

“So have a kid. You’re rich enough to afford a kid and you’re pretty enough to get a man for the biology.”

“Oh you put it so nicely. Thanks; a backhanded compliment if ever there was one.”

“D’you want a kid?”

“Yes. And my clock’s ticking.”

“Well it would be Jen, you’re thirty five. You can’t lie to me about your age you know.”

“D’you know Bev, if I have a kid, I think I’d like it to be yours.”

“I would have thought you’d have wanted one of those ‘high-flyers’ in London.”

“Come off it Bev. You’re bright, we were at school together, remember. I know about your exam results. You were brilliant. I always wondered why you never went to uni. Is it because of the tranny thing?”

“Partly. Besides, I’ve probably done better than a host of graduates. Just look at them today. More business study degrees than you can shake a stick at and the only business they’re studying is the Mac ‘Donald’s cash till.”

“Yes,” Jenny mused thoughtfully. “It’s even getting like that in Law.”

“Okay then see you at eight.”

Jenny hesitated then smiled shyly.

“What’s up?” I asked.

“I’ve got no need to dress, I can go like this; all I have to do is change into a pair of tailored designer jeans.”

“So? It’s going to take me all of an hour, what with shaving and showering.”

“That’s what I was thinking. Can I watch you getting ready?”

“Uuhhm, d’you think that’s a good idea?”

“You’re quite safe, I’m just curious that’s all.”

“Well you’re over sixteen, I suppose it’s legal.”

Jenny smiled and nodded knowingly.

“You bet girl. Now up those stairs and let’s see you shine.”

“Uuhhm my shower’s down stairs in the utility room. Less problems with leakage through the ceilings.”
Jenny nodded knowingly.

“Wise girl. I had that problem with my old flat at Uni.”

I slipped into the shower and emerged to find Jenny nosing through my wardrobe upstairs. She was trying on my tops.

“You’ve got some nice stuff here. I could fancy this top myself.”

“D’you want to borrow it for tonight? I usually wear it with a pair of leggings or tight fitting jeans.”

“Can I? We’re pretty much the same size aren’t we?” She replied as she slipped off her skirt as well.

I nodded as I turned to get my hair dryer and commenced combing my hair. Jenny watched me and I caught her smiling in the mirror.

“Penny for your thoughts.” I observed.

“I was just remembering how we used to play up here as children.”

“And do our homework.” I added.

“Yes it was weird that. All the times we lay innocently on the bed and swapped notes, I don’t ever remember you ever once trying it on.”

“I respected you too much I suppose.”

“Or was it the tranny thing?”

“Probably; or was it the lezzy thing?” I riposted.

“Touché’ I suppose I gave out vibes even then.”

“Maybe I did as well,” I agreed.

She pulled a wry smile and grinned.

“So here we are now two mature adults, one in her bra and knickers and the other in only a bath towel.”

“Yeah but it’s two women isn’t it. I’m getting into girly mode now.”

Jenny giggled.

“Hey, Bev, helloo-oo; it’s me you’re talking to, don’t forget, I’m a lesbian.”

“Oooh shit! I forgot. You’re not tempted are you?”

I glanced uncertainly at her in the mirror and she wagged her head in bemusement.

“I don’t know what to think Bev. With those tits you’re quite attractive. I wish I’d known about you when we were in school.”

“And yet still we remained chaste,” I smiled at her in the mirror.

As I switched on the hair dryer all conversation was lost so Jenny simply searched through my wardrobe to occupy herself. By the time my hair was ‘femme’ she’d chosen her outfit and she was debating what to choose for me.

“What’s this club like, it’s not fetishist is it?”

“Not tonight. That’s Tuesdays and Thursdays. Tonight it’s LBD for us trannies. You girls dress how you like.”

“What’s LBD?”

“Little Black Dress you Muppet.”

Oh. Good,” she giggled as she slid the mirror doors of my wardrobe across to reveal my more formal clothes.

She wagged her head and smiled.

“My God you girls indulge yourselves don’t you? You’ve got a better selection than I have. Look at all these ball gowns. When do you ever go to the ball?”

“Just you wait until Christmas and new year girl. Come and see me then!”

“I just might,” she grinned. “Looks like you know how to indulge yourselves.”

She held up a tight-fitting strapless number and raised an inquisitive eyebrow. I smiled appreciatively. I rarely wore it unless I had somebody to do up the zip. Fortunately my boobs kept the top up and it exaggerated my cleavage. However first I slipped on a small ‘merry widow’ to give me a better waist and followed up with a strapless bra and a pair of ‘cache-sex’ panties. Then, once the LBD was on Jenny’s eyes widened.

“My God girl you can really pass! Even I’m tempted. You’ve got nice legs as well.”

“Why thank you kind maid. You know just how to make a T-girl happy.

I slipped on my panty-hose and chose my shoes before sitting down to my dressing table. By the time I was finished with my makeup, Jenny was gob-smacked.

“Bloody hell! I just can’t believe it. You’d better be careful girl or I’m likely to rape you!”

“Come on girl, we’re late for the ball. I’m picking Sandie up tonight as well.”

We slipped out of the back door straight into my garage then stepped out through the single side-door of the garage directly into the transit van. Nowhere had I been at risk of exposure. Jenny grinned.

“Hmmm. No wonder nobody has ever found out. You’ve got it well set up here. The back lane is nice and private and all the units on the trading estate are closed at this time. Clever girl, I’ve got to admire you.”

I smiled as we picked our way down the lane and soon we were picking up Sandie. In the club we rendezvoused with the rest of our gang and Jenny had no trouble fitting in. It was an enjoyable night and well past four before we got home.

“D’you think I should disturb mum.” She whispered as I parked up in my prearranged spot, for Harry; he was mornings.

“It’s up to you love. There’s a spare bed at mine.”

“I’ll take it if you’re okay with that.”

Having agreed the arrangement, we slipped back into my house and Jenny went straight to bed. I followed her up after finding Rastus stuck in my yard, yet again. He’d set off the security light and camera because he’s learned how to get up close to the sensor. I put him in my utility room and gave him some food. He’s even got his own basket in my utility room. (That cat; I dunno’!) He’d still have to wait until tennish in the morning before I took him around to Jenny’s mum.

Just before noon Jenny emerged saying the smell of bacon and eggs was too much to resist.

“Where’s Rastus?”

“He’s back with your mum. What time were you thinking of going back to London?”

“Haven’t made my mind up yet. I was thinking of talking to the family of the boy who was attacked.”

“Professional expertise; well I heartily commend you to that. Oh by the way, James is starting transition soon. God alone knows what that will mean for her schooling but her family and I refer to her by feminine pronouns. You’d do well to start that as well if you’re going to represent her. Her sister Candice almost kissed me when I did it. She’s very supportive of her newfound sister.

“Oh. Thanks for the tip. You seem to understand this stuff then.”

I gave her an old look.

“Come on Jenny! More than half my friends are transsexual; pre and / or post op. I’m very sympathetic. You’ll have noticed these.”

I cupped my breasts and Jenny nodded.

Jenny smiled and asked.

“Has he got a femme name?”

“Not yet. The two girls want Jamie and their mum Madge wants’ Janet.” For now I would use a term of endearment like darling or something when addressing her. However, that’ll be a while. She’s being kept in coma until the brain swelling goes down. I’ve got her mum’s mobile number if you’d like to speak.”

Jenny nodded so I called the number and handed Jenny my phone. I was immediately impressed by her sudden change of tone and demeanour. From the brusque, efficient lawyer, she was suddenly all compassion. When she finished I asked her.

“Was that an act?”

“No Bev. I am actually quite compassionate and passionate; that’s what motivates me in court. The hard-headed intellectual arguments I save for case preparation. Now I’m going to chat with my mum and perhaps we can all go up and visit James’s mum in casualty. She must be exhausted. We can use my car.”

She left and I cleaned up before going next door. Mrs Todd was sat in her front room already dressed to go out. Jenny was just tidying up. I sensed Mrs Todd’s good mood and squinted at her questioningly as I unfolded her wheel-chair.

“Would you like to explain; your smile that is.”

Mrs Todd grinned and nodded towards her daughter Jenny as she made herself comfortable in the wheel-chair. Early mornings were the hardest for Mrs Todd when her rheumatism played up. Later in the day she was pretty okay on her feet.

“Ask her.” Mrs Todd replied with a grin while motioning towards jenny with her head.

I glanced questioningly at Jenny and she blushed as I manoeuvred the wheelchair down the hall.

“It’s been like the inquisition. You’d think I was fourteen again.”

“And?”

“Mum more or less accused me of sleeping with you.”

I bent over Mrs Todd’s shoulder and met her frown as I explained.

“I did not sleep with your daughter Mrs Todd. She slept in the back bedroom.”

“Huh. Mores the pity.”

“What d’you mean by that!?” Jenny and I both chorused with astonishment.

“I might get a grandchild then!”

Then we both blushed. If Jenny’s mother only knew.

It was a bit of a palaver getting both Mrs Todd into the car and her wheelchair into the boot but soon we were at the hospital. I bumped into Candice who was taking some underwear in for her mother Madge. After introducing Jenny and her mum to Madge I did my
usual cowardly, impatient thing and went to get coffees. I hated waiting around. I sensed Candice was like me cos she joined me and we chatted as we sorted the coffee and Welsh-cakes. Naturally Candice wanted to know all about my transvestism. Fortunately the area was empty and we found a quiet place to chat.

“You were brill on Friday. Thanks for everything.”

“What they were doing was utterly wrong. It’s in the hands of the police now.”

“Are you okay with the police?”

I shrugged.

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

“You know; the clothes thing.”

“They know about me Candice. It’s not illegal.”

“Do they, like, abuse you or persecute you or victimise you; - that sort of stuff.”

“Not at all, the police have come further than most of the other professions on this. I suppose it’s cos they have to pick up the pieces. They see the hurt and the damage, as do the ambulance medics.”

“So why do arseholes like David Evans have to be such pricks?”

“It’s the way he’s been brought up; his father’s an arsehole as you so succinctly put it.”

Candice frowned as we made our way with the cakes and the coffee. But she said no more. It was obvious that she was feeling her way and the learning curve had been quite sudden and steep. Firstly her brother had ‘come out’ as transgendered then the macho man (in her eyes anyway,) who had saved her brother had turned out to be some sort of strange guy who wore women’s clothes. Her world had been turned upside-down and a whole new vocabulary had been thrust upon her. She sat silent and thoughtful as Madge explained the medical strategies to Jenny and Jenny explained how they should go forward legally.

“You’ve got three excellent witnesses Madge and the police are keen to prosecute. There could be substantial damages for James.”

“But what good is that if my child is brain damaged?” Madge wept.

Jenny the barrister could not answer that; none of us could, but the barrister simply took Madge in her arms and hugged her. I was impressed by Jenny’s sincerity; she obviously cared. I had always thought of lawyers as money grabbing gold — diggers. With that the casualty consultant appeared unexpectedly and deviated from his work to chat to us. He gave Madge no assurances but expressed hope that he thought James might not be brain damaged after all. The CAT Scans had shown plenty of activity. All they could do was wait and see. It was just so frustrating to not know. Finally, we persuaded Madge, with the consultant’s support, to go home and rest. There was very little anybody could do except let James’s natural healing processes go to work while he was kept unconscious. Jenny agreed to drive Madge home while I said I’d walk. I wanted to think. Candice decided she wanted to accompany me, I suspected she wanted to find out more about the whole TG thing. James hadn’t been very forthcoming and their family had only learned of it in the past few months of the spring and summer.

We had a long chat as we walked. My explaining things to her and answering her questions also helped me to sort my own thoughts then I felt Candice tense with fear. I looked up to see the same school gang approaching just as we were passing some open ground by the enterprise park. They were crossing the open ground and hadn’t noticed us yet.

“Oh shit!” Candice cursed.

I was much more alert for I had suffered similar abuses before.

“Get your mobile ready kid. Has it got a camera?”

“Yes.”

“Right get yourself into those bushes and be ready to record. Then u-tube it immediately.”

I followed Candice into the bushes then gave her a leg up into a tree. From there she had a panoramic view of the pavement and open ground. When I emerged from the bushes the gang were only fifty metres away and they finally recognised me without my cycling unitard. I noticed there were also some bigger, older boys so this time I was not going to get off without a beating. I promptly called the ‘quick-dial’ local police hotline for transphobic attacks and thanked God when Sergeant Williams himself answered.

“My God! It actually works,” I thought thankfully as I quickly described my location.

The problem now was could the police arrive in time.

It’s a strange thing with gangs they are like predators when they unexpectedly discover what they perceive to be prey. First they stalk, only for a few seconds perhaps but seconds count. I stood still, making sure that Candice had me in camera shot. I couldn’t run anyway, that would have left Candice in danger. Then the gang charged.

I stood with my back to the densest clump of bushes to avert attacks from the rear then I prepared myself for a beating. Candice whispered from her perch.

“I’ve got a good view of you from up here.”

“You’re going to need it.” I replied. “By the way, if I don’t make it out of this, there are video camera images on my computer of
the attack on your brother. Nobody knows about them but I’ve got hidden cameras all around my house and Mrs Todd’s. Now keep quiet and no screaming, they don’t know you’re up there. Just keep filming.”

With these last words, the gang were upon me and I was soon overwhelmed. I went down fighting but after a few blows my world started to spin. The last thing I remembered was a kick to my head and then everything went black. I didn’t hear the wail of the police sirens as several cars came screaming from both ends of the road. Fortunately the gang hadn’t had time to finish me off and a tremendous fight occurred over my curled up foetal body as the police struggled to arrest the main ringleaders who they knew well.

Eventually order was restored and an ambulance arrived to rush me to hospital. As the police were securing the main ringleaders
Candice finally called from up above in her tree.

“Can you help me down please?”

Sergeant Williams looked up with astonishment and gaped stupidly.

“Candice! Have you been there all the time?”

“Yes,” she replied as she gleefully brandished her mobile phone and confirmed her video record.”

“A huge grin spread across the sergeant’s face. That’s brilliant girl. ‘Bang to rights, a witness and a video record to boot’.”

In casualty I eventually came around but my head felt as though a trip hammer was crashing away inside. After checking what was broken, (I had long ago learned to curl up into a tight ball during transphobic attacks, - Why did they always have to kick us?) they splinted, plastered and bandaged me up before sending me up to the I.C. wards for observation. Three days hospitalisation followed to make sure there was no serious brain damage. After lunch and the police interviews, the women entered my ward and filled the chairs around the bed. Everybody expressed joy that I was conscious for the doctors had explained the issues.

This time the police had the courts place the ringleaders on remand. Candice’s video evidence had been ‘u-tubed’ even while Candice was up in the tree and although the police were not too happy about it and Councillor Dewi Evans was furious about it, the evidence was allowed by the judge at the remand hearing thanks mainly to Jennifer’s legal skills. Five days later I limped painfully out of hospital on crutches and my boss from the bottle manufacturing factory came around to see me. He had bad news.

“We won’t be able to hold your job open for you unless you’re able to return to work immediately. We’re installing new plant at the factory and it’s imperative that you maintenance guys are present when the manufacturers commence start-up; especially the new furnaces. They’re very high tech.”

“But I can’t go back yet. Just look at me. I’m bruised all over, some of my ribs are bust and there’s a fracture to my Scapula! My jaw’s broken and my ankle’s bust! How the hell can I come back to work!!? The doctors say four to six weeks minimum!”

My boss looked crest-fallen and I knew he was not happy. I had an impeccable work record. As a tranny running the daily risk of being ‘outed’ I just couldn’t afford to have any black marks against my name at work and I knew I didn’t. My record was spotless. I sensed there was something else going on. I asked him bluntly.

“What’s going on here? I’ve just been discharged from hospital; you can see the state I’m in. If I need to know about these new furnaces I can always read up on the literature when I get back. Besides, it would do no harm to send me to Germany when I’m better so that I can train on the same models at their factory. Come on. You owe me for all the extra turns I’ve worked for you over all those Christmases when other guys wanted to be with their families. I’ve been doing it for years! Who do you always call on when there’s a problem? Who constantly works nights to get you out of a hole? I work single handed at night when the furnaces play up and I’ve virtually kept them going with my own efforts. That’s why you’ve had to install new ones. Those old bloody furnaces must have cooked The Last Supper. So what’s going on?”

He couldn’t look me in the face and I began to suspect something. The facts needed investigating but I was house- bound. He made his excuses and left looking very sheepish while I cursed as I slumped down off my crutches into the arm chair. If I lost my job I was well fucked.

My problem was that I had kept myself to myself around our street and neighbourhood. I had no friends in the town for my only friends were other trannies who I met at Butterflies. What the hell was I going to do? Who could I call on to get to the bottom of this?

I was sitting at my computer later that afternoon when Mrs Todd hobbled around to see me.

“Glad to see you’re out love. When do the doctors think you’ll be back in work?”

I frowned angrily and replied that I might not be going back to work unless I could return virtually immediately. Mrs Todd wagged her head.

“They can’t do that Bev. You’ve worked there for years. They’ve got to give you sick leave. That’s the law! If they sack you, it’s constructive dismissal and they’ll have to compensate you.”

“I know! But that’s no good to me Mrs Todd. Even if they paid me a hundred grand in compensation I’ve still lost a job that should have taken me to sixty five, or six, or seven or whatever. That’s another thirty odd years of work. That glass factory is the safest place in Wales after the steel works. I know for a fact it’s got solid contracts with suppliers all over Europe for ten years.”

She frowned thoughtfully.

“So why are they dismissing you?”

“Well they haven’t yet, but if I can’t get in to participate in setting up the new furnaces, they reckon I won’t be qualified to work on them and maintain them. It’s a result of all the new health and safety rules. The German manufacturers have to issue certificates of competence to each maintenance engineer.”

“That’s rubbish. They could send you on a maintenance course to Germany or something. That’s what most companies do. In fact that’s the correct way to do it. Something stinks here.”

I had to agree with Mrs Todd. She may have been frail and old physically but she still had a good head on her shoulders. Before she’d married she’d been a graduate English teacher until Jenny was born then birth complications had weakened her and she gave up work to devote herself full time to rearing Jenny and in passing, rearing me as well. In those days she used to virtually feed and water both Jenny and me after school for the whole of our mutual childhoods while my mum worked because Dad had died. Mrs Todd wasn’t stupid; just old and frail.

As I sat there trying to think where to begin, she telephoned her daughter Jenny and quickly explained my dilemma.

That very night Jenny was knocking on my door. The next Morning Sergeant Williams came visiting. They explained their parts.

Jenny could prepare a powerful case against the factory using unfair dismissal as the primary charge. Sergeant Williams was going to do a bit of discreet digging into Councillor Evan’s background to see if he had a hand in it. We all knew we would have our work cut out because Evan’s really was a very shrewd, cunning operator.

Until I was fully mobile, there was little I could do but I had not counted on little Candice. She had a whole circle of friends at school and while most were kids from the rougher parts of town they by and large tended to like Candice, - she was a very popular and pretty girl. Lots of the girls were even sympathetic about her ‘brother’ James for Candice explained it very well.
Apparently David Evans, (the boy with the knife,) was not very popular with the girls and while he was locked up on remand for his part on the gang attack against me they, felt free to work against his sinister influences around the school. Slowly little titbits of information began to emerge and I kept passing them on to Sergeant Williams who whilst being the local ‘Hate crimes’ co-ordinator, still had his ‘day job’ as an ordinary copper with ordinary police sergeants responsibilities. Sergeant Williams was both amazed and excited by the quality of material that Candice’s friends kept dredging up and when he cross checked the facts with other incidents on the police computers the case against Evans and his vicious sons just kept mounting up and gaining credence.
Three weeks after my attack Sergeant Williams came calling.

“Where are you getting all this stuff from Bev?”

“I’d rather not say sergeant. I think the sources might be a bit reticent about telling the police.”

“So it’s coming from low places,” he grinned.

“Some of it,” I replied.

“Would that be your TG Friends?”

“Actually no. The supply of information is far wider than you’d think.”

“So it’s a much larger network.”

“I’d rather not say much more than that. They’re not that reliable.”

Sergeant William’s grin widened.

“You’d be surprised Bev. It’s like painting by numbers. We can see the outline but filling in each little piece gives us a much better picture. We’ve got quite a case against our Councillor now.”

“Is it him having anything to do with my dismissal?”

“I’m beginning to think it is but I need some solid stuff. I wish, I wish I could speak to your sources.”

“Well not just yet Sarge. I’ll have a chat with my contacts.”

Sergeant Williams smiled at my calling him ‘Sarge’.

“You sound like one of my officers when you say that. But yes. Yes, please do. Now I’ve got a couple of scenarios here concerning events that have happened around the borough this last twelve months. I’ll leave you a list of dates and places. If your source can come up with anything on these events, I’d really be getting somewhere. And it’ll work for you TG People as well.”

“How.” I wondered.

If I intimate to my superiors that gaining the trust and co-operation of transgendered people has advanced the case against our dear Councillor then they’ll keep the ‘hate crimes’ post open. I’m sure you know about the ‘government cuts’ well it’s affecting us as well.

I felt compelled to ask.

“Does this Evans really have pull with the police?”

“Frankly Bev. Yes. He drinks with the same crowds in the same bars. Superintendants, Assistant Constables, nearly everybody with any pull.”

I guessed what the sergeant was hinting at but he was being very diplomatic. Then it clicked.

“Except of course with our esteemed Chief Constable, - ‘el supremo’.”

“Exactly Bev. She’s above suspicion. She doesn’t drink with the boys.”

“I wonder why,” I smirked as I hinted at a ‘funny handshake’.

“That as well Bev.” The sergeant smiled wryly.

I said no more but the sergeant’s words got me thinking. ‘That as well.’ I’d seen our esteemed chief constable years earlier cruising the gay bars usually under the pretence of ‘patrols’. However she also had a husband who was a successful builder and two kids living in large house outside a posh country market town outside the county.

The cliché ‘don’t do it on your own door step’ sprang to my mind. I couldn’t condemn her for that for neither did I. Anyway, if she was bi or whatever, I could count it as an advantage to me. I needed all the allies I could get.

Sergeant Williams left me with a printed list and I put it away under my computer. I had plenty of time now to create a file and cross reference all the other stuff that Candice and her inner circle of friends had dug up from all the kids in the school. I may be housebound but I wasn’t helpless.

The next week, James came out of his / her coma much to the relief of both Madge and Candice. Sadly, James had retrograde amnesia and couldn’t remember anything about the attack. Apparently the incident had started just outside the school gates and the school’s security cameras hadn’t recorded it. As to how and why the incident started and who started it was now a matter of conjecture, or at least that’s what everybody thought. Sergeant Williams visited me after speaking to James.
“It’s a bloody nuisance. Nobody can corroborate James’s version or they are afraid to because of that Evans brat. The gang can more or less say what they like about who started it.”

“But surely the attack. There are plenty of witnesses to that. Three excellent ones that I know of.”

“Yes but none of you saw the start. The gang could say that James threw the first punch and that started the incident.”

“Oh come off it, have you seen the size and build of Jam,-“

“Yes! I know, I know,” Sergeant Williams agreed, “he’s a tiny effeminate kid! But it’s still his word against theirs and he
can’t remember a thing.”

“But you can still get them for the GBH stuff surely?”

“Yes, but they may not get commensurate sentences and they could be out in a couple of months.”

“Swaggering and strutting their stuff all over town.” I added.

“And reinforcing the Evan’s reputations as untouchables.” The Sergeant finished.

I fell silent. I needed to talk to Jenny about my video stuff. One of the several secret cameras I had around my house was directly focussed on the school gates, for that was the primary source of the trouble. Once the bad kids knew they were ‘invisible to the school’s cameras they created mayhem. I asked sergeant Williams to contact Jenny about the dearth of solid evidence about the initial part of the incident. Three days later, (he was a busy man,)he came to me with a letter addressed to him from Jenny giving a Q.C’s opinion.

“She reckons six months in young offender’s institute tops.”

“But the bloody knife. Three of us saw that and it’s got his prints.”

“He claims it was self defence. When he realised you were a grown man he became frightened.”

“And like, I wasn’t. Facing a bloody gang of, - like, - thugs!” I was so angry I lost my grammar momentarily. I used the detestable word ‘like’.

“It’s got merit in court.” Sighed the sergeant. “I wish those bloody school cameras were better positioned.”

I fell silent. I had to find out about the law and my cameras. Would they be permissible now that the case was being progressed?”

Sergeant Williams finished his coffee and left feeling somewhat disheartened. Every day he saw thugs literally getting away with murder while he and his colleagues were hamstrung by the law. I watched his shoulders sloping dispiritedly as he climbed into his car. I had to speak to Jenny.

Her response on her personal private mobile was everything I could have dreamed of.

“What!!!” She shrieked joyously. You’ve got video, - of the whole incident.”

“Yes, the whole thing. Right from when they gathered outside the gates to wait in ambush until the police had finished their site inspection. On different cameras as well.”

“Oh Joy of joys. I’m in court all this week. Can you possibly email them to me but not just yet?”

“Are you going to disclose them?”

“Not yet.” Jenny replied, hardly able to suppress her delight. I’ll wait until we receive their sworn affidavits then we produce your film as a ‘discovered document’. I’m expecting their affidavits tomorrow. I’ll phone you quite legitimately once I’ve received their affidavits then we wait a few days and you suddenly accidentally, manage to recover the material from your files where you thought you’d lost it. And you’re certain; it’s genuinely the whole dammed incident.?”

“Yes, I’m looking at it now, - the whole show and on two sometimes three of the cameras.”

“Oh Beverly I could kiss you! That will show they were moving to pervert the course of justice. Now we’ve got em’! You’ve made back-ups I hope!”

“Give me credit Jen, even Sandie’s got a copy tucked away in her overly large knickers. Should I tell sergeant Williams?”

“Not yet. Not until I get the copy and preferably the original sticks. Once the police learn of it, they’ll be bound to seize your computers for evidence. They have to. You haven’t got anything illegal on there have you?”

“No, but there’s some pretty interesting tranny stuff.”

“Are you worried about it?”

“Not for me anymore. I seem to be caring less and less each day. But there are other names on my email lists.”

“Get them off. You don’t know who’s looking at your computer once it gets to the station.”

I took Jenny’s advice and transferred all the sensitive info to memory sticks after Candice had been to the computer shop for me. Then I drove away to Sandie’s house and hid some more of the sticks with her. James and Candice also kept ‘write-protected, copies with password protection to prevent tampering while copies were recorded privately and password protected by me to be distributed amongst my TG friends. By the time the police officially impounded my computer I would appear to be a sweet, simpering, good little tranny. If my transvestism then surfaced in the courts the defence would have hell’s own delight trying to protect themselves from charges of malicious, transphobic abuse. That weekend, Jenny came down from London again and after receiving my ‘discovered material’ she took considerable delight in telephoning the police explaining my naivety and inexplicable temporary loss of such important evidence. Sergeant Williams gleefully made a point of coming personally with the police computer expert to impound my computers. Happily the guy proved to be gay for sergeant Williams had deliberately chosen the ‘sympathetic’ individual from the Police HQ. He proved remarkably helpful in ensuring there was no embarrassing material left on them. Our case was getting tighter and tighter.

On the following Tuesday, Jenny was able to belatedly advise the defence counsel that ‘discovered evidence’ had been located and the shit really began to hit the fan for the affidavits and statements had been lodged and recorded down at the courts. The preliminary hearing had to go ahead and probably even the trial. Jenny and Sergeant Williams were quietly hugging themselves with satisfaction. James’ retrograde amnesia now had no consequences for the outcome of the trial.
Even if the attackers pleaded guilty and the trial was cancelled at the behest of the defence counsels, there was still the matter of sentencing for the statements and affidavits clearly contradicted the video evidence. The attackers, (particularly David Evans and the knife incident,) had quite clearly attempted to pervert the course of justice. The thug’s affidavit was such a tissue of lies that even the judge was left speechless.

By the Friday the defence’s case had collapsed and all the accused were compelled to plead guilty.

“Round one to me and my computers,” I sighed that Friday evening. “So what now?”

“They have to be arraigned before the court and plead next week.” Jenny advised. “They’re pleading guilty so the jury is just a formality.”

“And what will happen to them?” Candice demanded.

“Can’t say.” Jenny replied. “This judge tends to be fairly lenient with sentences but he was not best pleased with all the time wasting subsequent to the video evidence. The defence should have dropped the pleas immediately but Dewi Evans tried to bully them into doing something. The defence council is pretty pissed off as well. Evans tried to ‘strong arm them. I do know this judge tends to view stuff like perverting the course very severely. Something went on way back when he was a recorder and he got pilloried when new evidence came to light.”

“So the Evans brat might get more than his cronies.”

“Most definitely. There’s a minimum sentence for knife crimes. The judge’s hands are tied on this one. Your video shows he definitely pulled the knife and even though he didn’t have a chance to use it, he definitely threatened you with it. Candice’s reaction is clearly visible, her scream is clearly audible and she’s cowering behind you. She was obviously convinced and terrified and she knows the boy of old. You only have to confirm that you were convinced he was going to try and use it and the case is cut and dried. The video says it all. That was a ferocious attack on poor James.”

“Yeah. Thank God for cameras and computers.” I mumbled uncertainly as I contemplated any consequences, like abuse from his cronies if he got sent down. Then I had a thought as I looked at James squatting painfully on the settee while his sister sat with her arm loosely draped around him. If James decided to go for transition he might need money to help him through the SRS and any subsequent life changes. I asked Jenny.

“Will James get compensation?”

Only the standard criminal injuries awards.

“How much?”

“A few tens of thousands. Thirty maybe forty thou.”

“Is that all, I’ve heard with some industrial injuries the claims run to hundreds of thousands.”

“Yes but the companies have got insurance policies. That only happens if there’s money, -“

“To be sucked out by the lawyers.” I finished cynically.

Jenny shrugged.

“That’s the reality Bev.”

“Dewi Evans is pretty well feathered. It’d be nice to see him plucked.”

“It’s his boy that the claim would go against. How much money has the boy got?”

I shrugged. Nobody except perhaps his father could answer that. At that Candice perked up.

“He’s got shares. He’s always bragging about having shares.”

“Shares in what?” Jenny asked eagerly.

“Dunno, but he brags about them all the bloody time. He pretends he’s some sort of bloody tycoon.”

At this James sat up painfully.

“They’re shares in his dad’s company. I remember when we were doing history and the funny story about Budd Flanagan or one of the crazy gang or a comedian anyway, advising King George the sixth to put the empire in his wife’s name after Dunkirk. Everybody laughed then Evans told us that’s what his dad had done. Something about protecting the company assets or something. I’m not sure what.”

Jenny’s eyes widened with pleasure and she dug out her phone. Within seconds she was talking to some colleague in the company law section of chambers. He was at home enjoying a quiet supper with his girlfriend. After a brief legal exchange about company registers or something, Jenny smiled with satisfaction.

“We’ll soon know how much the little toe-rag is worth. Mike’s got twenty-four-hour computerised access to companies’ house.”
Then I had another thought, - ever the pessimist me.

“Can this David Evan’s be held legally liable for damages he’s only just turned seventeen hasn’t he James?”

“No. He’s the oldest in the class. He’s eighteen. He was held back a year cos’ he’s a thicko. I’m the youngest in my class only just turned sixteen. That’s why I’ve had to wait for SRS stuff.”

“This get’s betterer and betterer,” Jenny grinned. “We would have some difficulty swinging it if he was only sixteen or even seventeen but he’s eighteen. You’re right James. He’s been a right dumb-arse, he is a thicko! As you so succinctly put it.”
I watched Candice give her older brother an excited hug and he winced. I also wanted to hug both kids but I had to restrain myself. Trannies are ever alert to accusations of paedophilia and shit. Instead I stood up, walked over to Jenny and kissed her on the forehead.

“What’s that for?”

“For being so clever girl. For being so clever.”

“I haven’t had to do anything yet.”

“Maybe not but it’s been reassuring to think that things have moved so quickly and there’s yet more potential just because you’ve handled stuff.”

Jenny looked up thoughtfully then spoke mainly to James but for all our benefits.

“D’you really want to sue for damages?”

James nodded and we all sensed the anger in his eyes. I studied his rounded effeminate form and wondered how anybody could hurt such a small, vulnerable, soft skinned kid.

‘Shit she’s still but a kid!’ How could anybody hurt a kid like her?’ I asked myself.

Almost as if James’s prayers were being answered, Jenny’s phone took off. It was Mike, her partner at chambers. We strained to make out the conversation but it was turned down to mute, however we could follow the course of the conversation by Jennifer’s widening smile. Finally she closed up her phone and grinned.

“A huge stonk of the shares are in the son’s names. Technically, both sons are as rich as their dad. Well worth suing or so Mike thinks. The shares aren’t even held in trust! Talk about dumb!”

With this pleasing information Jenny declared she was tired so I offered to run the children home to their mum while Jenny made for bed, - the bed in my back bedroom. I wondered if this was some sort of tacit suggestion.

In the car, James had her first ever chance to speak to me about my transvestism. Candice must have mentioned it at some stage, possibly to reassure her ‘sister’. Candice knew to keep silent as James nervously opened up about the events of that fateful afternoon.

“I was lucky that day wasn’t I Mr Taff.”

“Yes. If I hadn’t stopped them they would probably have killed you.”

“No. — I don’t mean that, I mean the other stuff. My bra and stuff.”

“Go on.” I encouraged, - not yet sure where James was taking this.

“Well that’s it exactly. You simply ignored it. Just like you’re doing now.”

“It’s not an issue for me. It wasn’t that afternoon and it isn’t now.”

“That’s exactly what I mean. My transgender stuff doesn’t seem to bother you. Candice has told me about you.”

“Candice broke a promise then, - didn’t you Candice.”

“No. No that’s not fair!” Candice protested loudly. “James was terrified about your knowing. I had to explain it to him.”

“So why were you terrified about me knowing? Surely it was just as bad that the whole class had found out.”

“Yes but you were the man. The man who seemed to keep order in the mornings. The man who the bullies were afraid of.”

“I don’t follow. How or why were the bullies afraid of me?”

“You’re the only proper man living in that street. All the others are either single mums or old people. The bullies didn’t want to upset you. They’re cowards.”

“Well I’ll go along with that. A dozen thugs onto one little kid.”

James looked at me with a puzzled smile but remained silent. I continued talking.

“And now you’re puzzled that a ‘proper man’ as you call him, actually wears girl’s clothes or more correctly, women’s clothes.”

“Yeah. I don’t get that.”

“I’m a transvestite James. You must have heard of us. When you start to meet up with other transgendered people you’ll meet plenty like me. Just remember that once you’ve ‘transitioned’ and you’re ‘cured’ think of us, the trannies, the ones who can never be ‘cured’.”

“Do you want to be cured?” James smiled softly.

“No, but everybody else wants us to be ‘cured’. That’s the big issue for our kinds of people, it’s other people.”

James replied with a soft ‘Yes’. I wanted to hug her to comfort her, there and then, but we were outside their mother’s home and somebody might have seen us. Instead I wrapped my arm around her shoulders as a father might do to his son and promised her I would always try to be there for her if she needed the support of our kinds of people. Then I gave Candice a kiss on the cheek and told her loud enough for James to hear as she stood outside the van.

“Give that to James and your mum when you’re inside. I’ve got to go.”

Both children teared up and I almost did.

“Thanks Mr Taff.” They chorused in unison.

“Oh don’t be so formal. Call me Beverly or better still, Bev.”

With that James came around to the driver’s side and tapped on my window. I opened it, leaned out to ask what she wanted and suddenly she plonked a quick kiss on my lips.

“That’s my real thank you. Can I see you again tomorrow?”

“What for?” I asked.

“Miss Jennifer said that you go to gay clubs in Cardiff, I’d like to see inside one.”

“I’m afraid that’s a no-no. You have to be eighteen. However I can take you to Butterflies next Friday. That’s a private TG party in a private house. No booze is sold but adults can bring their own. I’d like to speak to your mother first though. I can do that tomorrow if she’s available.”

Again James grabbed my head and gave me another kiss. I was a little fearful and gently prised her off.
Careful James. I’m not fully out yet so I’m still vulnerable. Don’t forget they attacked Candice and me coming home from the hospital. I’m at as much risk as you. Much as you kiss beautifully, it’s still unsafe. James’s eyes saddened but then Candice offered a sort of protection by following her ‘sister’s’ example and kissing me. Fortunately she had the wit to make it a brief snog then she ‘put me down’. As they lingered by my van their front door opened and Madge was standing silhouetted in the hall light. The diesel tick-over of my van had alerted her. She recognised my van and gave me a wave as she motioned to her children. Reluctantly they left me but I was relieved to see them both hug their mum. There seemed to be no acrimony for my having returned them slightly later than we’d previously arranged. Candice had phoned to tell her anyway. Madge waved and smiled as I eased my way through the parked cars.

Minutes found me parking up in the side lane where I met Harry as he was carrying some pigeon boxes from his car boot into his pigeon loft. I fell to chatting with him as I helped him carry the boxes and we lingered in the lane chatting about the recent attacks on James and myself.

“I don’ understand all this transgender business but that’s no reason to attack the kid. Mr’s Price next to me says he’s but a scrap of a lad. One breath and he’d blow away.”

“That’s about it Harry,” I agreed, “that’s all he is or she is whichever way you look at it. When I saw half a dozen of them beating one poor kid up well, it’s no’r on is it?”

I dropped very slightly into the local vernacular to disguise any sympathies I had for James. I didn’t want to raise any issues with Harry. He was a decent bloke and he’d also been good to me when my dad died, but I had no idea how he might take on about me being Trans.

“Yeah, good for you Bev! Anyway, those Evans’s need taking down a peg or two.”

“Cost me though, they got me back. My ankle’s still in this stupid plastic thing.”

“Yeah. I heard about that too. Didn’t the boy’s sister film it or something?”

“Yeah. That was the best bit, - got the older Evan’s boy bang to rights as well. You’ve heard we won the first case for the little un, haven’t you?”

“Aye. Best news round ere' for a while.”

We put down the last box and harry straightened his aching back.

“Well that‘s them birds finished. I’ll sort out their nestin’ arrangements in the mornin’ Thanks for the help. You comin' in for a cup of tea?”

“No. Not tonight. Catch you next time, I’ve got company.”
Harry Smiled.

Well done Bev. Some girl finally caught you has she.

I smiled. Harry knew that I had ‘escaped the trap’ several times.

“No Harry. Mrs Todd’s daughter is down from London to help with the legal stuff for the kid who was attacked. She’s over there at mine now doing the paper-work.”

“Yeah. I’ve heard she’s done really well; Judge or summat isn’t she?”

“Not quite Harry, - not yet. She is a Q.C, though. A top barrister and she could become a judge if she chooses and if she’s called to the bench.”

“Yeah. Her mum can be really proud.”

“Yes. She can. Anyway I’m going over to help her with the facts. She’ll want a cup of tea I expect.”

We parted and I went in via my garage door as the security lights activated. This was followed by a loud plaintive miaoowe and I smiled at the black shadow brushing against my legs, - ‘Rastus’.

He rushed through the kitchen door ahead of me and immediately ignored his basket as he dashed straight up stairs. There was a squeak from Jennifer’s bedroom followed by the inevitable simpering, mothering noises as Jenny realised that whilst the invader of her bed was male he was not human. I grinned as I made a pot of tea to take up to her. Her smile broadened as I knocked softly and she invited me in. I poured her tea and settled into the ‘occasional chair’ by the bed. We chatted at length about the civil case against the Evans clan then she brought the conversation around to children. I sensed where this was going so I did not push any agendas. Eventually Jenny opened up.

“Well. We discussed it last time I was down from London. Are you game? D’you want to become a daddy? D’you want to make my mum a grandmother?”

“A turkey baster child.”

Jenny sniffed irritably.

“I could make a sacrifice, just for you.”

“What you mean, - are you sure? I know how you girls hate that sort of thing. The big hairy man stuff.”

“How do you think you know what any of ‘us girls’ want, as you so succinctly put it?”

“Jen. I meet and chat with your sisters every time I go out to gay clubs!”

“Well this girl’s different. Beside’s it would make mum supremely happy. She always fancied you and me together. This is as close as I could get to making her happy, - your child.”

“Are you absolutely sure. I’m now another unemployed male since yesterday with no job prospects.”

“Not yet you’re not. He’s got a hell of a fight on his hands.”

I smiled gratefully. Jenny was proving to be an excellent ally. Then she proved to be equally unpredictable.

“Well are you going to sit there all night!?”

“I! — I haven’t finished my tea yet.” I replied lamely. (What else could I say?)

“Get in stupid. My God! D’you need instructions or something.”

“Wouldn’t it be better going into my bed? It’s bigger.”

“You’re not sleeping over you know. Once you’ve served your purpose I want my own bed. Besides it’s unseemly for a girl to climb into a bloke’s bed. They’re usually pretty foetid places.”

“I object to that. I’m scrupulously clean.”

“Yeah well that’s the truth; your house is clean, no filthy laundry lying around and all importantly your bathroom’s clean. No filthy black mould in the shower. No disgusting stains on the floor.”

I smiled self-consciously.

“That’s cos I always sit, - well at home anyway.”

“Her eyes widened and she gave a puzzled frown.”

“What always?”

I nodded.

“Of course. I’m a tranny aren’t I? What did you expect?”

“Well that explains a lot of things,” she finished as she patted the mattress beside her.

I hesitated and motioned questioningly if I should get undressed. She smiled, and nodded. Her smile widened as she noticed my matching bra and panties.

“Oh they’re pretty are they from New Look?”

I nodded as I moved to unclasp my bra.

“No. Leave them on. I could almost mistake you for a girl! Those are nice breasts, have you been taking hormones?”

Again I nodded.

“Yes but no blockers. It still serves its purpose.”

“Good. Let’s give it a try then.”

“Very romantic,” I grinned as I slipped under the sheets and gently cuddled up to her.

Jenny rolled over to face me and gently fingered the breasts she had just been admiring. I sighed and twitched lasciviously as she pushed her fingers down the waistband of my panties and whispered to me to do the same to her. She giggled as she felt me growing hard.

“Pity about this. If you cut it off and grew your hair out, you could even pass as a girl in bed.

“Thanks but no thanks.” I giggled as our panties ended up down the bed and she gently slid her thigh over mine.
I was mildly surprised and quite pleased to discover that Jenny was wet and receptive; otherwise, I would have had to spoil the mood and gone to dig out some lubricant from the bathroom. I wasn’t even sure if I had any left it had been so long since a woman had been in my bed.

To my surprise and delight Jenny made all the running. I simply had to lie back quietly while she availed herself of my ‘penetrative, inseminal device’ and achieved her goals. She giggled as my ‘equipment’ did what was demanded of it then she finally rolled off me. We lay for a few moments then I whispered uncertainly.

“D’you want me to go now?”

She grinned contentedly and said.

“No Bev. I’ve changed my mind. You almost pass for a girl. You’ve got lovely breasts, you’re soft and hairless and you’re lovely and slender. Stay with me. Besides, I might want it again later.”

What red blooded ‘girly boy’ could refuse an offer like that? Strangely she rolled over away from me then invited me to spoon her and cuddle her tight. I was taller than her so we ‘fitted together’ perfectly and my breasts pressed into her shoulder blades. She sighed contentedly and soon we fell into a blissful sleep.

We woke that Sunday morning and more or less resumed where we’d left off. Jenny ‘used’ me again then we lay for an hour savouring each other’s embrace until we heard the soft miaoowe calling from down stairs.

“He’s up.” I observed. “I suppose I’d better take him round to your mums.”

“Not like this you’re not. We’re getting showered and dressed first.”
With that she gave a sudden unexpected heave and thrust me out of bed with her feet. I squeaked in protest then started giggling again.

“Get me that dressing gown from the back of the door.” She commanded.

“Yes ma-am, certainly ma-am; anything ma-am says ma-am.”

I threw the dressing gown to her and went to have a shower downstairs. She caught up with me as I was opening the shower door.

“Let’s shower together. Have you got a shower cap?”

“Third drawer down under the vanity sink.”

“Why d’you have a vanity sink in your utility room?”

“Why not? I installed all this, so I did it to my design. Who else do I have to please?”

Jenny shrugged, put her hair up under the cap and stepped into the large cubicle to join me.

“This is big for a shower.”

“It’s a utility room silly. I sometimes rinse down my bikes in here, see, there’s a big filter and a box trap for mud and stuff. That’s why you step up into it.”

“Uugh. All mud and stuff from that mountain bike.”

“So what. Like you said last night. It’s spotlessly clean. The mud goes on the compost for Harry’s garden. He also does mine and we share the veg.”

She looked closely at the drain plug and shrugged.

“Yep it is clean and it’s nice and big for us to share a shower.”

We did and she emerged refreshed and happy. Then she had another problem. I watched as she stood dabbing herself softly with the towel as a thoughtful expression clouded her fresh-faced countenance.

“What’s wrong now?”

Jenny hesitated then confessed.

“I’ve got no clean knickers.”

“Borrow mine.”

She wrinkled up her nose and hesitated, I realised her issues. Girls didn’t like sharing underwear, even newly laundered stuff. I wagged my head and smiled.

“Don’t worry fusspot. There’s brand new lingerie in my panties drawer. It’s the stuff on the right with the labels and price tags still attached. There’s also new bras in the next drawer down. Same arrangement and don’t panic, they are all still in their cellophane.”

“Oh thanks Bev. You’re a perfect ladies’ man, aren’t you?”

I wagged my head as she watched me also dab myself dry and smiled disbelievingly.

“My God you really are a secret femme aren’t you? Sitting to pee, dabbing yourself dry. Next you’ll be wearing panty liners.”

“Just watch it you, - before I change my mind about those panties. Go on. They’re up in my own bedroom beside that so-called foetid cess-pit you call my bed.”

I watched her delicious rear sway out through the utility room door because her breasts were overly large and although my towels covered my breasts and butt, they didn’t quite fit completely over Jenny’s riper curves. She span around and caught me looking and she grinned.

Later, as I went upstairs I heard her giggling and gasping in my bedroom. I knocked and walked in, (it was after all MY bedroom.) to find her studying my underwear collection. She turned to me wagging her head unbelievably.

“My God Bev; this stuff is like a whore’s boudoir! Don’t you have any plain cotton stuff? You know; comfy stuff for everyday.”

I pointed to my wardrobe and said.

“In there, the drawers down the left hand side. Plenty of stuff.”

Jenny nodded approvingly and eventually located a new set of bra and knickers that suited her choice. After stepping into the cotton pants she held up the bra and looked at me curiously.

“Why have you got Double D and E cup bras when you’re only what; big B or a C?”

“Don’ know where the hormones‘ll stop. I could grow to a D or E; I dunno’”

“Bloody hell Bev, you’re well fucked up aren’t you!” Are you boy or girl?”

“I’ve stopped wondering or worrying any more. I’m just Beverly.”

“Are you up to the unfair dismissal battle?”

“I’ve got to be haven’t I? Without that Job, I’m well stuffed. Come on, let’s get dressed. Your mum ‘ll be wondering where Rastus is.”

“And me I shouldn’t wonder.”

“Are you going to tell her you’re trying for a baby?”

“Not quite. I want it to be a surprise when I can tell her I am pregnant.”

“So are you going to stay down here then? I mean, it takes a bit of you know, - regularity to do the deed. Won’t your partner up in London be upset if she learns you’re having sex with me?”

“I’m between partners at the moment. I’ve got a new friend but there’s nothing fixed as it were.”

I nodded sagely and went down stairs while Jenny did her makeup. The smell of scrambled eggs soon produced a hungry guest and she grinned appreciatively as I set out the toast and egg. I knew from way back that she preferred tea for breakfast and I even knew how she liked it. Her grin increased to a huge smile as she recognised the familiar arrangement.

“Gosh! You still remember after all these years.”

“Well I’ve hardly made tea for anybody else since you left, except your mum. Eat your egg it’s getting cold.

As we ate I asked if she wanted me to take Rastus over or if she’d do it.

“You don’t have to carry him, it’s become a routine. He’ll follow you into your Mum’s house.”

Jenny grinned and slipped the greedy feline a spoonful of egg. He mopped it up with his tongue in short order. Normally I wouldn’t have allowed it, and indeed, Rastus knew not to beg but obviously Jenny had spoilt him when she was growing up next door and I for one knew that Rastus had a perfect memory.

By nine we were delivering Rastus and Mrs Todd gave her daughter a knowing look. Jenny just smiled and remarked.

“I’m in my mid thirties mummy. I’m a big girl now.”

Mrs Todd looked at me but I just remained straight faced as I turned to leave. Jenny explained we had to go to the courts and we made our excuses. The rest of the day, Jenny coached me, James and Candice in preparation for the forthcoming ordeals. The more severe the judge was about the criminal case, the better would be our chances of success in the civil proceedings for damages. I asked Jenny why she wasn’t coaching her mother and she explained that her mother only had to tell the absolute truth and state exactly what she saw.

“But shouldn’t we be telling the truth?” James wondered aloud.

“Of course James,” Jennifer replied, “but a bit of theatre goes a long way in court and we are looking for extensive damages for you. Don’t worry, everything will be the truth just put more elaborately.”

That night Madge came down with her ‘daughters’ and Jennifer coached some more. Mrs Todd sat in and wagged her head as she watched her daughter operate. My God darling, but you’ve got your dad’s way about you. He wouldn’t stand for any nonsense either. Jenny smiled at her mum. Her dad had died unexpectedly when Jenny was at University and she missed him dearly. Any little anecdotes about her dad were devoured with relish by Jenny especially stories when she had been at uni. While Jenny was coming to terms with her lesbianism she had more or less broken off relations with her family for fear of censure. When she learned later that her mum was sympathetic she bitterly regretted not having told her dad for Mrs Todd was adamant that her husband would have been compassionate about it too. Mr Todd had always been supportive of my ‘unmanly ways’ insofar as he did not poke fun when I refused to play rugby or football.

“The boy cycles Elizabeth. That’ll keep him fit enough.”

I was chief bearer at William Todd’s funeral and I gave the Eulogy at the tender age of twenty. With having no father of my own through the accident, William Todd and Harry were the main male figures in my young life. Now there was only Harry and my friendship with him really only revolved around bloky stuff affecting our mutual transport needs and security. Harry was okay as a neighbour but not as a friend. My friends were all TG People his friends mostly had feathers.

When the coaching session came to an end Madge took her ‘daughters’ home and Mrs Todd had sufficient wit to make a tactful withdrawal. Jenny and I had another night of ‘clear decks’ to achieve Jenny’s aims. We availed ourselves and Jenny reckoned I acquitted myself well. We didn’t surface until ten the next morning and she hadn’t thrown me out of bed which she assured me she would have done if I’d resembled a bloke.

“Uugh men! Can’t stand em’, huge great hairy things, all muscle and smell.”

I looked at her puzzled but not accusatively. I wasn’t hairy and not much muscled even though I tended to count myself still amongst men. We showered together again and she ‘borrowed some more of my new unopened underwear. As we dressed she grinned at me.

“Just look at you in that delightful sexy lingerie and me in my sensible comfortable cotton briefs and bra. Who’s the little girly one here?”

I grinned gave a little twirl and slipped into my tee-shirt and jeans whilst she dressed in formal black.

In the early afternoon Jenny had more business down at the courts and she returned to tell me that the civil hearing for James was set for Friday. We more or less had the rest of the week to ourselves so Jenny used it to indulge her ambitions to get pregnant whilst additionally advancing a civil claim for me in anticipation of my victory against the Evans clan for the attack against me.

For Candice and James it was a week of enlightenment as they learned more of my transgenderism and Jenny’s lesbianism every day after school at my house. It reassured them as Jenny took everybody through their lines in preparation for the courts. We also demonstrated to James that there could be deep and lasting friendships amongst transgendered people without all the censorious hullabaloo that seemed to accompany heterosexist perceptions of Tee-folk. (Transgendered folk.)

On the Friday we went into court. Because I was still in a plastic detachable leg cast and still covered in bruises the defence actually tried to have me barred from appearing in court but even the judge laughed that one out of court. I was one of the main, material witnesses to James’s assault and it would be impossible to prevent me from giving evidence.

My battered appearance plus James’s bruises convinced the judge that a custodial sentence was unavoidable and David Evans went down for six months, mainly for the knife incident. James also got very substantial damages. More than enough to pay for any SRS when she was ready. Jenny had done her work well.

That Friday evening I took Jenny, Candice and James up to ‘Butterflies’ where they met my transgendered friends. All in all it was a very successful week. They were amazed to find the local community police officer giving a brief talk at Butterflies and it gave James huge confidence to go forward with her life. The poor kid had been contemplating suicide
On the Saturday Jenny, Candice and Madge took James shopping whilst I indulged my other passion, - a one hundred miler on my bike. It’s the best thing in the world for clearing one’s head and ‘putting the world to rights.’ That night Jenny indulged again after taking me out for a meal and we had a ‘lie-in’ on the Sunday, well at least until noon when James and Candice appeared with an invite to go round to their house for Sunday lunch. They sat down stairs while Jenny and I dressed and they were jealous that we slept, showered and ate together.

“You two may as well get married.” James giggled as Candice grinned at us stepping past the living room from the shower downstairs up to the bedroom. Jenny stopped in the doorway whilst wearing one of the new longer bath towels she had bought on the Saturday then she gave them a patronising look and explained that she couldn’t marry anybody with a cock but if I was prepared to sort out that little problem, she would certainly consider me. Both ‘girls’ squealed with amusement as I shouted down.

“I’m not giving up my bits. You lot can do what you like.”

Jenny joined me upstairs then Candice and James asked to come into my bedroom just to continue chatting. By this time both Jenny and I had our bras and panties on so we were respectable. James was fascinated to discover that I had breasts and a small tear came to her eye. At last she realised there were others like her or similar to her and right here in her own town.

As Jenny and I dressed, Candice expressed regrets that Jenny and I would never get it together but Jenny reassured her that we would always be friends and that there would always be a room in her apartment for any of us if we came up to stay overnight or weekend in London. James’s eyes widened at the news, she was already considering leaving our small town to find anonymity and comfort in the big city. It was the usual route for most TG people after traumatic events in their home-towns. A safe room as she found her way would be a vital stepping stone for James as she progressed her transition and transgenderism.

Having dressed and returned the inevitable Rastus to his mistress, we left to have lunch with Madge. After Lunch, Jenny had to leave for London while the children, Madge and I went for a walk around the estate. Several people pointed James out in his skirt and top but nobody gave us any hassle. Indeed two people, both single mothers, (well they were pushing babies in buggies,) came up to congratulate me for ‘having a go’ and to admire James’s outfit.

It was a real epiphany for James and me. It seemed our experiences were news all around the estate and many people hated the Evan’s clan in our particular ward. Councillor Evans had been elected to another ward but his pernicious activities affected the poorer, ‘unemployed’ people of our council ward much more than his own constituents.

We ended up having tea and cakes in a small cafe by the park and watched a game of ladies hockey, - an unusual activity in the poorer parts of ‘blue-collar’ Wales. Again, as we sat chatting, two boys introduced themselves and openly declared themselves to be gay as they looked at me and congratulated James. Candice and James knew them from school. They chatted briefly and swapped anecdotes about David Evans’s bullying. James’s ‘coming out’ had incurred much abuse by the Evans boy and his sycophants.

“You did well Jamie and you’re brave. And thanks a bundle Mr Taff. You’ve stopped a lot of stuff at the school.”

I did a double take. It seemed my reputation was getting ahead of me.

As the pair walked away I distinctly heard one say to the other, “I wish my dad was like him.” Madge and the children also heard it, (I think we were meant to,) and she smiled at me as James repeated the same sentiment.

“Yeah. I wish my dad had been like you Mr Taff.”

“I’ve told you before it’s Bev,” I protested before I realised James was both winding me up and paying me a compliment.

Candice nodded her head and I didn’t know where to look.

‘Steady Bev.’ I thought. ‘Don’t let your ego outgrow your head. You’re still a flippin’ tranny and you’ve just lost your job; - feet on the ground laddie, feet on the ground now.’

We finished our tea and cake and ambled back to Madge’s house. Once they were home, I made my excuses and walked home. It was a quiet evening and I had no trouble. Since the Evan’s clan had met their waterloo, things seemed to have calmed down a bit on the estate. I looked in on Mrs Hobbs and once again rescued Rastus from my back-yard. We shared the usual cup of tea then I went to my house and settled in for the night. It was strange not going to work and sitting there alone at night on a Monday seemed to reinforce my having been made redundant. I decided to dress for the night and this relaxed me a lot. It was nice dressing on a Monday night.

My life fell into that vein for several weeks as I searched for another job but nothing was forthcoming. It seemed Dewi Evans had a hand in everything.

My only consolation was that Jenny had organised the employment tribunal and had assured me that I had a lot of things going in my favour. She had even loaded the charge of transphobia against the company because they knew I had been attacked partly because of my Transvestism. It was not common knowledge but the likes of the Evans’s did not need much excuse to attack a vulnerable person. In the school, Candice had confirmed that several of Evans’s gang had mentioned I was ‘a weirdo’. So the Evans’s knew something.

Each weekend that Jenny came down, we indulged in ‘baby-making’ then she would return to London usually on Sunday afternoon. Those weekends kept me sane as the lack of a job gnawed at what little self confidence remained. Then I got an interview and it went well. I had been short-listed to a company thirty miles away where Evans’s influence did not hold sway. That night I went to bed and indulged my transvestism with new relish.

I woke feeling really good. The short-listing and sleeping in a silky nightie had helped to ease the tensions. As I showered I heard an unusually long plaintive miiiaoowoo at the back door and I stepped out of the shower to let him in. He went to his bowl and looked accusatively at me then sat expectantly while I finished washing. For want of a better idea, although it was a Tuesday I subconsciously followed my Friday Morning routine and finally took Rastus around to his mistress at about tennish, usually just before I went for a bike ride. Unusually she wasn’t up so I made her some tea then slipped upstairs.

Knocking softly on her bedroom door I called quietly.

“Hello-oo! It’s Beverly Mrs Todd. Tea up.”

No answer. I called again but no answer then Rastus appeared at my feet and gave a long mournful miaooow before scratching at the door. I’m not the most sensitive of people but even I realised something wasn’t right. I knocked again a little louder then cautiously opened her bedroom door, - all the time calling her name softly. As Rastus leapt onto the bed I thought she was asleep but when she didn’t respond to Rastus’s pawing of her face a cold sagging feeling suddenly filled my belly. I put the tea tray aside and cautiously bent down to check. I couldn’t hear her breathing nor could I find a pulse. I took a compact mirror from the dressing table and nervously held it close to her gaping mouth. ‘Was that a bit of damp?’ I asked myself hopefully as I dug out my mobile and dialled nine-nine-nine. The response was suitably sympathetic and I settled on the bed to phone Jenny’s office number. The Chambers answered and told me she’d gone to court for a verdict. I told them the situation and asked them to somehow get a message to her. Then I settled down to wait. I was afraid to try cardiac massage, Mrs Todd was very old and frail and I knew that cardiac massage could break ribs. I debated doing mouth to mouth. Fortunately my debate was short-lived. The faint wail grew louder until the blare of the two-tone banshee filled the street. I was out in the road directing them then I had to answer the neighbour’s inquiries as the paramedics did their business. After briefly explaining what I’d found, I went upstairs were I found the medics busy doing their stuff. I waited on the landing in case they had questions but essentially I left them to it. I would only have got in their way. I helped the girl medic at her end in getting the wheelie thing down the stairs then raised a questioning eyebrow as they rested momentarily in the hall and re-adjusted the mask on my beloved neighbour’s face.

“She’s not dead but it’s touch and go. Her pulse is very weak.”

“Heart?” I asked.

The girl nodded and I dashed upstairs to get Mrs Todd’s medications before locking the doors and getting into the ambulance.

“Are you a relative?”

“No. I live next door but I check in on her every morning. Her only daughter lives in London and I’ve left a message at her chambers at the inner temple.”

“So there are no relatives nearby.”

I wagged my head, Mrs Todd had been an only child though Mr Todd had had sisters but they still lived up in Yorkshire and they had never visited. I would have to check back at the house once Mrs Todd was seen to. If I could perhaps find telephone numbers or something.

At the casualty unit I could only sit and kick my heels for over an hour until my mobile finally rang. It was Jenny. The judge had adjourned the hearing early for lunch so she could find out what happened. I explained as best I could and she broke down in tears; more with relief than grief because her mum was still alive, - just. The receptionist heard me talking then she buzzed the emergency team and a sister came out to speak to me and Jenny. I handed her my mobile and eves-dropped the conversation then the sister turned to me and smiled.

“It’s okay. You can come in now. She’s gone up to ward and she is asking for you. You are Beverly aren’t you?”

I nodded and she glanced at the swellings under my tee-shirt. I hadn’t had time to get my shirt and jacket and wondered if an explanation was in order, bearing in mind I was in a very delicate situation. I was only the ‘good neighbour and Samaritan’. Nothing more was said so I followed her up to the ward to find Mrs Todd sitting up with an oxygen mask on her face. She smiled at me and patted the bed gently. I glanced questioningly at the sister and she nodded so I sat on the edge of the bed instead of the low chair for I had to lean right in to explain.

“Jenny will be down early this evening. The case should be wrapped up by two-ish. Rastus is okay, I’ve fed him and I’ll sort him out later. Have you got your sisters-in-law’s phone numbers?”

The old lady wagged her head and tried speaking but I raised a hand to prevent her. It was obvious she was struggling to breathe and she had to save her energy for Jenny later. I sat quietly stroking her hand unsure of what next to do. I was never very good in hospitals. The sister came with a cup of tea and as I sipped it, Mrs Todd’s eyes closed. I checked the monitor and reassured myself she was still alive then I made my excuses to the sister whilst leaving my details.

At two o’clock my mobile went off and Jenny answered.

“How’s mum?”

“She’s alive but very weak. I left her sleeping. I should have been there. She’s got an alarm thing but it had fallen off the bedside table. She’s supposed to keep it around her neck.”

“Okay, don’t blame yourself; meet me at the station at six. The case is concluded, the jury’s come back with the verdict and the judge will pass sentence on Friday following reports.”

I met her as arranged and a very tearful Jenny fell into my arms. At the hospital I stood back and chatted to the ward sister as Jenny spent what was to be her last hours with her mum. They spoke at length, which surprised me; it seemed Mrs Todd had been saving her last strength for her daughter. At ten that night it was over and I took Jenny home to my house. She couldn’t face sleeping in her own bedroom next door. Too many ghosts I supposed. She’d had a very happy childhood, we both had. We sat chatting softly reminiscing about our childhoods and it was only then that she found the strength to tell me.

“I’m pregnant.”

I teared up as my heart filled with joy then I suddenly realised.

“That’s what you were telling your mum wasn’t it?”

“She nodded tearfully and we fell into each other’s arms. Mrs Todd, Jenny’s mum, had died happy!”

On this note I sent Jenny to bed. I did not sleep with her, my job was done. Instead, Rastus slept that night with Jenny and that served to comfort her.

“You’ll look after him won’t you?” She asked when I took her tea and breakfast.

“Of course, why did you need to ask?”

“You’re the sweetest man I ever met. I only wish mum could have lived to see her grandchild.”

Jenny stayed until the funeral and for a few days afterwards until all the affairs were sorted. I drove her around as all the paperwork was sorted and she even came cycling with me one sunny day. She was forced to agree, it helped clear her head and mend her mood.

A week later I was summoned up to London unexpectedly. Mr’s Todd’s will was being read by a lawyer associate of Jenny’s. I couldn’t, for the life of me, work out why I should be asked to attend. I got the shock of my life.

There wasn’t much to the will except of course for the house. This was where I was involved. Mrs Todd had left me half the house! My jaw almost hit the floor and I turned to Jenny expecting to see anger at having her inheritance halved. Instead she smiled and held up her copy as she tapped the back page. I turned over my copy and suddenly realised that Jenny had been one of the signatory witnesses to the will. She had always known I was going to inherit a half share of the house next door! Jenny had helped her mum to write the will! I stared stupidly at Jenny as the lawyer wrapped up the rest of the issues. Everything else went to Jenny, which was exactly what I had expected. She invited me to dinner at Lincoln’s Inn and I filled up with emotion.

“Don’t cry Bev. It’s a thank you for all that you did for mum by looking after her. She loved you dearly you know. The best son she never had. She was overjoyed about my baby especially as you were the father. She died a very happy woman. Oh by the way, you can have all Rastus’s stuff.”

This made me smile. Rastus had already moved in; plate, bowl and cat-food.

I was left with the house clearance, Jenny couldn’t face it. She had taken what mementoes she wanted so the rest was up to me. Candice and James spent the ‘after-school’ periods helping me and they even had a few precious bits of junk jewellery to remember Mrs Todd by. Madge also helped with the cleaning and I had to wait until Jenny came down to discuss what we would do with the house.

Later that month I received the best Christmas present I could have expected. I had not got the job that had been advertised but they had another job because somebody had died unexpectedly. I had come second at the interviews so they offered it to me. It was a factory near Swansea and it involved nine to five hours. That didn’t matter for I could cycle in and out every day.
Madge invited me around for Christmas and I enjoyed one of the best Christmases I’d ever had since my childhood days with Jennifer.
By the New Year I was all set up. The only seeming cloud on the horizon was the anticipated ordeal of the tribunal.

I resumed work on January the third; the factory had just resumed full time working and the death of my predecessor had been a fortunate event for me. Not for his wife and children but it’s an ill wind. That night I was cycling home after work and I had just entered the estate. Traffic was heavy and there was the usual rush-hour jam but on my bike I was hardly affected. I was cycling towards Madge’s house when a fire engine went moaning past. I checked behind me to make sure there were no more and crossed over to the cycle path. From now on it would be much safer. My town’s got some good cycle tracks but in some places they are ‘intermittent’. It was starting to rain so I pushed harder on the pedals. If I could get home without getting too wet it would mean less frapping about getting dry. Then I noticed the fire engine’s blue lights flashing in the street where Madge lived. I contemplated taking a detour but some strange sense of foreboding drew me towards the lights until I realised it was Madge’s house on fire. For a second I panicked then regained my composure as I spotted Sergeant Williams on crowd control and organising the police response. I cycled over to him with the question writ large across my face. He recognised me and motioned with his head to wait while he finished a call, then he spoke to me.

“Hi Bev, it looks like arson. Nobody’s hurt thank God. James and his family are over there talking to the D.S. (Detective Sergeant.) She’s the one taking notes.

I looked at the terrified family then I recognised one of my attackers slinking at the back of the gathered crowd. I was sure it was him. If it was arson, he would be well worth watching. Sometimes, just sometimes, if the perpetrator was stupid, he (or she) would hang around admiring his handiwork. The man who had attacked me with David Evans and his bigger brother had been very stupid for he had identified himself to me and Candice had U-Tubed it. I spoke to Sergeant Evans again.

“Look I can see you’re busy at the moment, and your colleague is reassuring Madge and the children. I’ve just seen something that might be relevant so I’ve got to go. Get a message to Madge if she’s stuck for accommodation tonight, there’s two spare bedrooms at mine. Phone me when you’ve got things in hand here.”

“What have you spotted?”

“Not now Sarge. Your guys are busy; I’ll phone you later if there’s anything pertinent.”

He squinted at me thoughtfully but I was already on my bike. In the darkness, the thug had melted into the crowd but I soon picked him up as he scuttled down the path, away from the scene of the crime. I decided to follow him and loitered at each corner as he walked several blocks. He was making his way to the trading estate which was fortunate for me. There were a lot of unused tarmac roads where factories had not yet been built. The open spaces had been planted with trees for landscaping and the street lighting had been installed for safety until businesses could be attracted in. As the thug made his way towards the area I became both suspicious and excited. It would be much easier to follow him through the tree-lined grid-iron of empty sites. Then I recognised a familiar car. A large dark Bentley was parked up in a cul-de-sac. There was only one man who owned such a posh car in our industrial town. Dewi Evans. The thug was obviously making for it. This would be worth filming, so I raced to the next block, hid my bike, whipped off my hi-vis tabard then dashed back behind the trees to take a position in the bushes right beside Evans’s car. I was in position just as the thug reached Dewi’s car. I was close enough to almost touch them!
Councillor Evans wound down the window and I had the certain delight of being close enough amongst the bushes to both film and record the conversation on my mobile.

“Job done?” Evans asked.

The thug nodded and smiled as he incriminated both of them.

“Yeah. That petrol’s wild stuff though. It burned like blazes.”

“It wasn’t petrol it was Naphtha.” Evan’s replied.

'This was getting better and better.' I told myeself. 'He’s just identified the accelerant and implicated himself.'

“Whatever,” the thug replied, “now have you got the money?”

Evans reached into his glove compartment and produced some twenties. The thug counted them and grinned.

“Two hundred, as agreed. Nice doing business councillor. What about that other bloody weirdo, the one we beat up the other day.”

“Not yet,” Evans replied, “I’ve got other plans for him, he cycles and that makes him vulnerable. Now bugger off before somebody sees anything.”

It was then that the video capacity in my phone filled up but I had all I wanted. I lay perfectly still as the Bentley whispered away and the thug returned whence he’d come. Neither of them would pass my bike but it was well hidden anyway. Once it was safe I phoned Sergeant Evans and messaged him the video. I received a huge ‘THANKYOU!!!’ by text.

I texted back, ‘Smelt accelerant on thug’s clothes maybe some in Evans car!’

Back came the reply immediately.

‘On to it. Thanks!’

Content that my part was done I cycled home to find the Detective sergeant on my doorstep with Madge and her kids. They all smiled as I arrived and followed me inside. I immediately put the kettle on but declared I didn’t have enough food for dinner for everybody. Madge immediately gave James a tenner and we each gave our order for the fish and chip shop. I told her to borrow my trail bike because it had a carry frame on the back but the DS said she’d take James to the shop because James was ‘dressed’. Her police car was unmarked and she reckoned it would be an interesting experiment to see if James experienced any abuse. When they returned we all tucked in to a slap up feed and the sergeant confessed.

“If I ate like this every night, I’d soon turn into a fat pig.”

“Come cycling with me then, you’ll soon lose weight, though you don’t need to.”

She smiled and blew me a kiss as I wrapped up my chip paper and left a little bit for Rastus. The children followed suit and the DS grinned.

“That cat‘ll grow fat if he eats all that.”

“You leave Rastus alone.” I protested, “And don’t call him fat. He’s sensitive.”

“It’s only a one off.” Madge declared. “That cat will be eating sensibly again tomorrow, I’ll be getting food organised. The main problem is clothes. Most of our stuff was upstairs and that what’s got burned the most.”

At that James gave a little giggle.

“Candice and I will be okay for clothes.”

“Why?” The DS asked.

“We uuhhm, we uuhhm, we’ve got some clothes here.

Suddenly James realised she had said too much and she back-tracked but the damage was done. The DS gave me a funny look.

“The rumours are true then.”

“What rumours?” I countered.

“You’re a transvestite.”

I decided I might as well finally ‘come out’. I knew Sergeant Williams had not inadvertently outed me because he had known for over a year. There had been enough ‘incidents’ in the past months to give me away. Besides Dewi Evans and his cronies must have known, hence the attack on me that afternoon coming home from the hospital. I replied quite calmly.

“Yes I am.”

The DS glanced at Madge who sensed the question and answered it before the Sergeant could comment further.

“Yes I did know. Beverly’s been very supportive of my daughter.”

“Oh! Good. So there’re no issues then.”

“None at all!” James snapped. “Bev’s a fantastic guy! Don’t you know he rescued me from the Evans gang?”

“Yes. I knew about that, any decent man would have intervened. Trouble is there are not many decent men around.”

“Well Bev’s decent!” Candice added. “And he’s helped us a whole heap of times. He’s helping us again tonight, so what’s the problem? Anyway, James is seventeen next month! She’s going to need all the help and support she can get! Beverly is one of our supporters! You just catch the bastards who burned us out!”

The DC smiled enigmatically and glanced ever so slightly my way before speaking.

“Oh I’m pretty sure we’ll find out who it was. The problems for your family are the middle term arrangements. The council are going to have to find you a new house. You can’t stay here forever. ”

“They can.” I interjected softly.