This chapter addresses Beverly's concerns about 'The Sucession'. Which of her children are to run the family firm of 'Taff Spaceships' after she is gone? How is she to protect those powerful secrets that could enable a megalomaniac to try and rule the earth or even the universe.

 

Spacetran 13.

List of our children and their friends.

Girls,

Wendy, William’s twin.

Jessica and Charlotte, Ben’s (AKA Bennie’s,) twin sisters.

Dave and Eddie , Sherriff Jack Johnson’s boys.

Linda and Sandra, Sherriff Jack Johnson’s daughters.

Ray, Wendy’s husband (Our son in Law.)

Khatia. Bennie’s secret Muslim wife.

In most families once a wedding is arranged the mother of the bride and the bride start going ballistic with arrangements. In the Taff family things sometimes get done a little differently. Normally, the father of the bride stands back, stumps up, and stiffens his upper lip whilst anaesthetising his wallet. Wendy’s dad is a little different; - well, a lot different! Wendy’s dad pitches in. Wendy’s dad is Beverly, and Beverly is now one of the most famous transgendered people in the Solar system. Beverly was determined to give her daughter away whilst wearing a beautiful gown to match but not outshine her daughter’s wedding gown. Even flamboyant transvestites have to sometimes curb their own indulgences.

From having avoided the limelight since leaving school to avoid gold-diggers and fortune hunters, Wendy now felt she could explode onto the fashion scene and let the gossip columns have their day. Wendy was getting wed, - big time.

Poor Ray, the groom would normally have found some solace and support from Male members of both families but there were virtually none. Ray did not know who his dad was; he had no brothers and just one younger sister. His beloved mum had struggled all through their childhoods to keep him and his little sister on the straight and narrow on some of the meanest streets in America.
The only saving grace for Ray was that his mum got to attend one of the biggest weddings of the year as a major player whilst his younger sister got to be a bride’s maid. The only places where Ray could find ‘male’ support was Wendy’s twin brother William and Sherriff Jack Johnson who were the nearest thing to ‘men’s men’ in Wendy’s whole entourage. Dave and Eddie also attended Ray’s stag night along with a crowd of associates from the Round Table where Ray had always networked. Now Ray was being sucked into the Taff clan there would be little need to ever have to network again. People would be trying to latch onto him constantly in their efforts to somehow ingratiate themselves into the so-called ‘inner circle’ of the ‘Taff clan’.

Indeed, it had already started and Ray hardly had time to run his factory because the phone never stopped ringing with invitations from people who would never had looked once at an ‘uneducated’ black kid from Harlem only a few months earlier. Ray realised that despite his detestation of all the vulgar displays of the trappings of wealth, he would have to give up his beloved old cell-phone and keep a personal assistant at his side almost all the time he was ‘working’. The damned phone just never stopped ringing as Round Table ‘mates’ handed out his old number like jewels to be called in as favours to lubricate their own endeavours. Ray had to hand his old mobile to his P.A. who fenced the calls and filtered those that really needed his attention. He was also forced to employ a new manager to take on the burden of immediate supervision and operation of his business. Moving into the ‘Taff Clan’ had completely altered his life.

It was almost as bad as Georgian England where the king had to keep a coterie of retainers around him to protect him from the constant demands on his time. In the evenings, when Ray got home to his mother’s house from the factory in New York, he would simply collapse on his bed and bemoan his fate to Wendy on his new cell-phone. Wendy smiled at his despair for she had suffered such privations all her adult life.

“Welcome to the club darling. Now you know what it’s like.”

“It’s ridiculous Wend’ just as Demona and I were locking up, she got a stupid call from some Boston Dowager trying to organise some sort of bloody party. I’m up to here with party invitations! Demona tried her best to be courteous but the hag wouldn’t be deterred. She obviously thought she had some sort of clout and seemed quite put out when Demona told her I was not available.”

“Are you coming up this weekend?” Wendy asked completely ignoring her fiancée’s laments.

“Weekend! Dammit darling I’ll be up there Thursday just for the pleasure of your company and to get some peace. This life in New York is just getting me down. Everybody but everybody wants’ a piece of me. I can’t even sneak out for lunch but some airhead is snapping pictures. Help mee-ee.”

Wendy smiled to herself and arranged to meet her fiancé on the Wednesday for she had some business with her brother Billy on Wall Street. As joint vice chairmen of Taff Space Ships, they both had to sign some documents. Never was Ray more relieved to meet Wendy and they slipped quietly to his mother’s new house on Long Island. Ray still lived with his mother and they had moved out of Harlem when Ray’s Machine-Tool company had started to take off. His younger sister Chantelle also lived with them and went to college in New York, courtesy of Ray's success.

With the new antigravity puls travelling had become as common as breathing, the only constraints being the computerised control of passages in congested city areas.

In New York Wendy invited Ray and his family to a very private restaurant where they could rely on some privacy. Grateful for some quiet time, they discussed wedding plans until William joined them after some other business he had to attend to. After firming up several issues surrounding the mountain of arrangements they finally ate. After eating, Wendy and William invited Ray’s family to stay the weekend at the guest house in the grounds of the cottage. Now that they were officially engaged, Wendy had become rather coy about sleeping with Ray while his own mother had adopted the same moralistic tone with her son.
“You’re gonna respect the girl boy! She’s a lady. You never heard any gossip about her in the trash papers not like her two younger sisters boy! Heck boy. I hardly knew she existed until you brought her home and even then I didn’t realise she was that ‘Wendy Taff’!”

“Jee’ze mom, Wendy was just a lot more discreet, but she did it just like all the other girls do.”

“Well you’re not gonna do it now until after the weddin’ boy. She’s gonna be respectable an' so are you!”

“What d’you mean by that, - ‘gonna be respectable’?”

“She ain’t gonna’ be knocked up or sump’n! They’s decent people!”

Ray smiled to himself. His mother could be downright contrary at times. Virginity couldn’t be ‘put back in a bottle’! He was almost tempted to make a crack about Wendy’s father and her transvestism but he felt that one was below the belt. Besides his mom thought Beverly was okay and Ray’s mom was a stickler for respectability. To top that, Wendy’s dad had moved heaven and earth to make things just that bit better, - well a whole lot better in fact, - for his people. Ray had come to like Wendy’s dad, the guy was okay and straight. He smiled inwardly as he considered his use of the word ‘straight’, he meant straight as in honest. Then he reconsidered his view and realised it also applied in the other aspect. Wendy’s dad was straight when it came to her feelings for women despite the cross dressing stuff and the total feminisation of her appearance. It was all so weird!
Ray was slowly coming to terms with Beverly’s condition and beginning to respect it. He thought about his movement on such issues and told himself.

‘My god boy, you’ve come a hell of a long way from the macho mores of the ghetto!’

In the guest house, he switched off his bedroom light and lay contemplating his approaching marriage. ‘Things were certainly going to change, - things had already changed!’

On the Thursday he returned to New York and dropped his younger sister Chantelle at the university whilst his mom stayed over at the Taffs to chat about wedding plans with Ruby.

As Ray dropped Chantelle off at the college he asked her.

“Are you staying in New York this weekend or coming up to the Taffs?”

“Are you kidding bro?! I’m coming back to the cottage. I wouldn’t miss this weekend for the world. All the guys in my class are buzzing with news that I’m going to be a bride’s maid.”

Ray smiled. Previously his little sister was always chaffing at the bit to be out of the house and clubbing in New York with her university friends. Things had even changed Chantelle’s life.

Chantelle went to the cottage with him that Thursday evening then chatted some more with Ruby and Ray’s mum about the wedding plans. On Friday she hardly wanted to be in college but lectures had to be attended. Chantelle fully understood about education. She knew just how hard her brother had worked to get his mother and sister out of the ghetto. She had no intentions of missing the opportunity to study law that her brother’s generosity had afforded her.

That Friday evening, she was pleasantly surprised to meet Bennie for the first time as Wendy’s famous, reclusive, transgendered younger brother picked her up from the college library. As she stood on the library steps chatting to her friends she had quite a shock to discover who had come to collect her. When Bennie introduced herself Chantelle’s ratings rocketed as the other girls slowly recognised the attractive but rarely seen ‘trans girl’.

Squeals of surprise and delight surrounded Chantelle as Bennie made her introductions and explained to Chantelle why her older brother was busy with wedding preparations. The other girls just kept squealing with surprise and excitement to find themselves in the presence of such august company. Bennie sighed as she reluctantly signed several girls exercise-books then she made her excuses and invited Chantelle to join her for the lift home. Poor Chantelle was too overcome with pleasure and surprise that one of the ‘Taffs’ had picked her up. She stepped into Bennie’s pul in daze of glamour and excitement. As they flew to the cottage Chantelle chatted to Bennie.

“Is it always like that?”

Bennie shrugged and smiled.

“Yeah, quite often. That’s why I keep out of the hetero limelight. I tend to go out clubbing with my own. Note I’m wearing a wig and dark glasses, people think this is my normal ‘Bennie Taff’ look and I don’t disillusion them. I think the press only have pictures of me in sunglasses and wig so I manage quite easily with disguises. My trans friends understand the issues what with the paparazzi always chasing my sisters. Oh by the way, Jessica is coming over from London this evening while Charlotte is coming from Tokyo.”

“So the whole clan will be there; oops sorry, I shouldn’t use the word clan, it’s a bit derogatory.”

“Not at all darling. It’s the Scottish word for extended family, only the English tended to give it militaristic connotations during the various wars they had with the Scots way back. Clan is fine by us; Americans have given it back its original meaning. Extended family with ties of loyalty and fealty.”

“You’re nice. The press portray you as a surly, stand-offish recluse but you’re really nice.”

“Why thank you, that’s lovely compliment. Though I do have my moments Chantelle but this weekend is not one of them. I actually like coming home because dad and I are alike in many ways, notably the tranny stuff. I’ll especially enjoy this weekend because the reasons are different, it’s not about vying for dad’s attentions and favours and trying to garner advancements in the family firm. . Anyway, I’m not that interested in working directly for dad; I’m dad’s favourite but that would be obvious wouldn’t it?”
Chantelle nodded and that was the sum total of any more discussions about Bennie’s transgenderism. They chatted about wedding arrangements for the remainder of the short flight.

Saturday came and the preparations continued apace. All too soon the weekend of the wedding arrived. Ray and Wendy were on tenterhooks.

The wedding was held in the little church in the town where it was by far the biggest event the town had ever seen. Naturally the press were there mainly to see the reclusive Beverly Taff taking her daughter down the aisle in matching gowns but for once Ruby had overruled her flamboyant husband. Beverly had been forced to tone down her ambitions and been made to wear a beautiful cream two-piece outfit that complimented her daughter’s gown only in colour and patterning. The lace in Beverly’s blouse matched the lace in the bodice of Wendy’s gown. There was a lively debate as to whether Beverley should wear a hat and much amusement arose as different family members debated the ethics of traditional church mores. Beverly looked more like ‘mother of the bride’ except that the only sop to Ray’s opinions being that she sported the same ‘button-hole’ as her soon-to-be-son-in-law instead of the traditional corsage. Some bizarre traditions and customs were ‘coined’ at the wedding.

Finally the bride and groom took off in Cold Albatross 3 with Thlom and Dumia as the pilots and hosts who would take them to Amphia for the first part of their honeymoon well away from earthly eyes. Then they would be taken to a remote, ambrosial planet for a month of total privacy and isolation. So remote and primordial was this planet that they could have wandered naked without fear of interruption or censure. The Planet had been Beverly’s secret for many years and she had been somewhat reluctant to divulge its existence even to her own children. When Ray and Wendy learned of it they were overcome with excitement and anticipation; - a veritable ‘Adam and Eve’ in a Garden of Eden.

For this Ray was eternally grateful, after having lived in a ‘goldfish bowl’ for but a few months, the pressure had already frayed his nerves. He and his new bride did indeed stroll naked at times just to demonstrate to each other that they could. Inevitably in this climate of karma and tranquillity, Wendy fell pregnant. When they returned home they had the joy of telling their parents.

Once again it was twins. It seemed that Beverly’s genetic propensity for creating ‘multiple births’ had been passed on to her daughter though Ray’s colleagues in New York made some jest of ‘the brothers’ having it where it mattered in the baby-making stakes. Everybody was overjoyed but Beverly was particularly concerned. She had not yet publicised her belief that the ideal ‘Chief Executive’ of Taff Space Ships would have the mathematical wherewithal to understand Beverly’s secrets.
After Wendy’s marriage others followed while Beverly sat patiently and reluctantly occupying the post of Chairman and M.D., as she watched the development of her two first grandchildren. She continued to occupy the seat as further grandchildren started to appear.

Next came William’s children then Jessica and Charlotte’s but always after patiently waiting none of her grandchildren seemed to harbour the maths gene.

Beverly’s last hope seemed to lie in her transvestite son Bennie fathering a child but it seemed that Bennie had already begun to distance herself from the family and moved amongst her transgendered friends more and more. Indeed, Bennie had almost stopped coming home to the cottage and Beverly found herself having to come out of her reclusivity to see anything of her younger son. It was something she did not want to do but she was left with no option. One night Beverly secretly visited the club in Manchester England that Beverly had learned Bennie favoured for her pleasures. In her own tight-knit community of Tee-folk friends, very few even knew that Bennie was a Taff of the famous Space-ship-building dynasty and that’s how Bennie wanted it to remain. Only a handful of trusted friends knew her true identity. The less people knew she was a ‘Taff’ the less hassle she got.

Additionally, it was always easier to disguise oneself as a woman; - the opportunities with outfits and make-up were infinitely more numerous and varied. Additionally many people used their transvestism as a disguise and turned up at the club in a variety of disguises with varying degrees of success.

Thus Beverly turned up incognito at the club without any fanfare or publicity for she had become a past-master at anonymity and disguise herself.

Sitting in a dark corner, Beverly watched her son circulating amongst her own coterie of Tee friends and mostly giving it large on the dance floor, - unusually in the company of a beautiful, slender, Asian girl who looked to be Indian or Pakistani. Beverly was intrigued and decided to sit tight and watch the action. As the night wore on Bennie and her Asian partner seemed never to tire of dancing and Beverly secretly wondered if they were taking drugs or something. However when she slipped up close to the dancing pair she concluded that their fun was genuinely adrenaline induced. Beverly was also pleased to see that both kids only drank fruit juice. No alcohol or other drugs seem to be consumed.

By four in the morning, Beverly was getting tired. She was no spring chicken any more but her ‘daughter’ seemed to have unlimited energy and continued giving it large until her Asian Partner finally called it a day. By a happy accident they slumped into a seat with its back to Beverly in the next booth and Beverly was stunned to hear the Asian girl’s words.

“Come on Benjie. The baby-sitter will be wondering where we’ve got to.”

The reluctance in Bennie’s reply was manifest.

“Oh, - okay Khatia I suppose you’re right. Let’s just have one more dance.”

“How the hell d’you do it darling? My heels are killing me!” Khatia complained.

Bennie just shrugged and almost bounced to her feet with enthusiasm as Khatia groaned, smiled and reached out with her arm to be hauled to her feet.

“Just one more darling. My feet are killing me!”

Bennie gave a chuckle and slipped off her heels to reveal bleeding feet.

“Look darling. My feet are hurting but you won’t stop me dancing. I thought you liked dancing.”

“I do!” Khatia protested, “but bleeding feet! Bugger that, you can keep em!”

They took to the floor laughing and danced a final turn close to the disc-jockey’s dais. Beverly seized her chance. She slipped out of the club and took up a station by the taxi rank. Soon she saw her transgendered son emerge with Khatia limping painfully whilst attached to her arm. Beverly stepped back into the shadows and listened as Bennie and Khatia chatted about keeping the baby-sitter up and hoping the babies would be asleep. Beverly was intrigued.

‘Could her transgendered son have secretly fathered a child (or children even!!) without mentioning it to the family? Was there another ‘Taff’ out there that nobody knew about.”

Beverly could hardly contain her excitement and Bennie’s transgenderism gave Beverly even greater grounds for hope.

‘Maybe the math’s gene travelled with a transgender gene or something!’ She thought.

Standing well back in the shadows, Beverly continued eve’s dropping until Bennie and Khatia slowly reached the head of the taxi queue and Bennie gave an address to the pul-driver. Beverly quickly concluded that despite her immense wealth, Bennie chose to keep a very low profile. She lived like any other working Mancunian girl where nobody had the slightest idea who she was.
‘Just another sad little tranny’ making her way in the big wide world.’ Beverly was impressed. Bennie must have literally disappeared through a hole in the metaphorical floor to create another, totally anonymous persona for herself. And yet she turned up bold as brass and clear as day at the monthly board meetings to religiously take her part. Beverly wondered where her ‘daughter’ made the change; she smiled as she envisaged a sort of ‘superman’ thing behind any convenient cover. It was obvious that Khatia had absolutely no idea who Bennie really was. Her partner simply ‘went to work’ each morning and came home each afternoon except that some days she worked late and stayed at the office late into the night The only incongruence being one Monday a month when Bennie came home on the Tuesday. That was the board meeting day.

As the Taxi levitated from the rank Beverly called down her own pul and discreetly followed the taxi to its destination; - the secret address where Khatia and Bennie had their little love nest.

After confirming where her seemingly wayward, transgendered son lived, Beverly slipped away to her own long established apartment just off Canal Street in Manchester. On the scrambler phone she called me that very same morning in a highly excited state.
“Yes Ruby! - a girl-friend and possibly children! They were talking about a baby-sitter and babies. In the plural and you know the Taff twins thing!”

“Are you going to tackle her about it?” I pressed.

“No; well not yet at least. If she’s keeping any children a secret, she’s got her reasons. I’m going to have to move carefully on this.”

“Yes. Do. If Bennie’s kept them a secret she’s probably got her reasons and if the mother’s Asian that might be a factor concerning the secrecy thing.”

“D’you think she might be keeping them a secret because they might have the maths gene?”

“What? You mean because of Bennie’s transgendered condition?”

“Yes. That’s exactly what I’m thinking.

“Well it’s possible,” I concluded, “so far there’s been nothing showing in the other grand-children.”

“So should I confront her?”

“No. Not yet. Try and find some way to get chatting to her next Monday when she’s here for the board. She might even have the same thoughts as we’re having, namely the math’s genius travels on the transgendered genes.”

“Well she’s been really mean not to have told us.”

“Amen to that darling but if she’s frightened it’s hardly surprising is it?”

Beverly closed the call thoughtfully and took the lift to her pent-house suite at the top of the accommodation tower. For years she had never used her suite in Manchester and very few people actually would have recognised her. She entered her apartment, looked around and smiled with satisfaction. The apartment was clean, dust free and well stocked; the agency that maintained it did a good job for their anonymous client.

Beverly wondered, ‘it must be quite dispiriting to clean and restock an apartment every few days and never, ever meet the owner.’ She entered without being ‘discovered’ and slept fractiously as she determined how to approach her beloved transgendered child.
Her stratagems however were not needed. The following morning to her surprise there was a knock on her apartment door. Normally one needed a pass key to get into the building and each floor of the tower was coded for the lift. A visitor either had to announce his or her visit to the concierge or employ their own private pass key to access whatever floor they wanted. When Beverly heard the unexpected knock on her apartment door she knew that only somebody with a security clearance and a coded key could have got so far. She glanced through the armoured spy hole and recognised Bennie. As she opened the door she studied her ‘daughter’ and smiled with genuine delight.

“Bennie; - darling? What are you doing here?”

“Well daddy, I could ask you the same question.”

“Well I’m here to see to some business.”

“Pull the other one daddy. I know that Wendy and William handle nearly all the executive stuff these days. What are you doing, skipping over the traces; and where’s mummy?”

Beverly studied her ‘daughter’ ruefully.

“How did you find out I was in Manchester?”

“What! In the gay village?” Bennie giggled. “Come off it daddy, I’ve got friends everywhere. The lights to your apartment were spotted from the block across the canal. My best friend phoned me when she saw them coming on late last night. She’s one of my few friends who know who I am and I can trust her as I have done these past few years. I decided to check the apartment out and here you are. So what’s with Manchester and where’s mummy?”

Beverly hesitated uncertainly then decided to take the bull by the horns.

“Well to tell the truth I was looking for you.”

“What for. Why didn’t you just phone me?”

“I was going to, - this morning. I just happened to arrive last night and I decided to kick over some old traces. You know, - Napoleon’s, The Rembrandt, The Union and all the others. I was shocked to see you. You were with a young Asian lady so I decided not to embarrass you. If I’d revealed myself to you somebody might have recognised me and therefore you. I could see you had a coterie of friends around you so I left you to it. D’you come here a lot then, to Manchester I mean?”

“Sometimes,” Bennie replied, being careful not to reveal too much, “just like you used to.”

“Yes but all the old familiar faces have moved on I should think. I never recognised anybody.”

“That’s not surprising most of the older girls go to The Pink Lady in Portland Street. The village has grown some since your day. I’ll bet that if you went there for the Sunday lunch time session you’d see them all having lunch. It’s all very genteel and respectable these days on that side of the village. Canal Street still has that earthy, wild side but it’s a bit hectic for the older girls. I’m surprised you went into the old quarter.”

“The old quarter! God is that what you call it now. It sounds like some old continental medieval city when you put it like that.”

“So what’s in a name then? Now what was it you wanted to see me about?”

“Well it’s a bit personal really. It was your mum who asked me to do it cos she knows how much it means to me.”

“Personal in what way?”

“She was wondering if you’d ever considered having children. Well to be honest, I was wondering if you’d ever consider having children, - you are still able to aren’t you? Or is that too rude a question. That’s the question I was reluctant ever to ask you. Your mum pushed me into it.”

Bennie studied her father then slowly a soft smile came to her lips.

“Yes Daddy. Yes, I believe you. You’d never have wanted to invade my privacy or upset my life because I am you and you understand me like nobody else in the family knows. I’d have bet my fortune that it was mum who put you up to it. So you were coming here to try and persuade me to father a child. Oh, I could if I wanted by the way. I still make the boy stuff.”

“Yes. I was pretty sure you could. You’re just like me darling, you’re a shemale.”

Bennie felt a warm wave of pure love for the individual opposite her. Only her beloved dad could ever begin to feel what Bennie felt and it reinforced their tightest bond.

“If we’re going to chat can I have a cup of coffee?” Bennie asked.

“Oh! Sorry darling. I’m forgetting my manners. Of course.”

Beverly turned to the kitchen work-top and made a cappuccino the way she knew her ‘daughter’ liked it. Bennie smiled as she watched her father prepare it.

“You’ve remembered then. That’s nice. Would you remember how the others liked theirs?”

“Not entirely.” Beverly confessed. “You were always that little bit fussier as a child but I loved you for that. It showed your femme side and I could always relate to that. I still do of course. You’re my favourite Bennie, you always were but I could never say that in front of the others. It’s because we are what we are.”

Bennie nodded thoughtfully as she sipped at her drink.

“So you would like me to try and have a baby. Am I right in thinking this is the maths thing?”

It was Beverly’s turn to stare at the floor before she nervously confessed.

“I won’t lie darling. Yes it is. You know how worried I am.”

“Tell me daddy, is it a sort of succession thing or is there something more meaningful?”

“Such as?”

“Well I know, - we all know, that you’d like the business to be controlled by somebody who understood your ideas and theories.
That is after you’ve gone.”

“Yes. Do you think I’m wrong to want that?”

“It depends daddy. It depends what your motives are.”

Beverly fell silent as she stared out over the city. To the east where once had stood the industrial graveyard of Trafford Park, there stood her first factory, the very first gravity engine factory and it was still going strong. Beverly had not been there in something like fifteen years. William and until recently, Wendy had handled all that stuff. Now Wendy’s hands were preoccupied with the children and she had less time to devote to the business. All the family agreed to her having chosen to spend more time with her children but it had not affected her executive position in any way. Bennie followed her father’s gaze then Beverly turned to smile at her as she motioned towards Trafford Park.

“Those are your roots girl. That’s the very first gravity engine factory ever built on earth. Have you ever been there?”
“No. And I’ve no particular desire to. I leave it to my brother and sisters to manage the firm and fight about the inheritance stuff. That way I avoid all the strife and competitiveness.”

Beverly smiled softly at her ‘daughter’. In avoiding conflict Bennie was very much a copy of her dad. It was that fear of confrontation, of being hurt or bullied, indeed the terror of being murdered that had first driven Beverly from Earth and into total isolation. By the same token, Bennie’s abhorrence of confrontation meant she did not side with any of her siblings at the board meetings and she always voted as her conscience dictated. The other children had reluctantly come to accept this but Beverly was secretly overjoyed. If ever she wanted an honest opinion with no self interest attached, it was to Bennie she turned. It was this openness and honesty that so attracted Beverly to her transgendered child. Her openness about her sexuality and transgenderism filtered through into all her dealings. Of all the children, Bennie was the most honest with her dad and Beverly hoped that this would be the case now that she was about to broach the subject of children. Beverly took a deep breath and took the plunge.

“So you’d like to know my motives?”

“If you’re not too coy. What is it that bothers you so much. Why won’t you share the maths secrets.”

Beverly exhaled and bit her lip as she spoke softly. Bennie nodded to herself knowingly, ‘her dad always exhaled slowly and softly when she had something of portent to divulge.’

“Do you know darling that I get offers every time I’m out in public to reveal the secrets. To put the maths down on paper and even if the best maths brains in the world or even the universe cannot yet comprehend the theories, these hopefuls always believe that someday, another genius will come along to understand and therefore reveal the secrets. And do you know something else?”
“No but you’re going to tell me.” Grinned Bennie.

“Yes. I am. It’s nearly always politicians who try to bribe me. They always think I’ve got a price. The fools can’t get it into their stupid heads that I’m too fucked up to ever ‘have a price’; at least that is, - a material price. No single being or group of beings can ever give me what I want, for my price would involve their, and everybody else’s metamorphosis. That is a metamorphosis into philanthropy. It’s a catch twenty two for them.

I’m sick and tired of Politicians who somehow think that if their little coterie of friends and acquaintances can ‘capture’ the equations and the theories then they will somehow enhance their power, their position, and their megalomania. Then if they can control access to the maths, that will secure their route to power and their grip on it.”

“So what’s wrong with us knowing the secrets we’re all your children and you can’t live forever?”

“I just believe that the keeper of the secrets should understand them. Then there can be no internecine strife that could lead to dispute and then war. It’s not about the money Bennie, it’s about the power. If those secrets are to remain secrets at least until human-kind has evolved into something more philanthropic than it is now, then they must stay with one person or group who must have the intellectual and moral wherewithal to understand and protect the secrets. I live in hope that my maths gene will pass on to at least one of my progeny. So far none of my other children or grand-children have proven to have the gene.

You’re my last hope, and yes, I’m thinking that the math’s gene might somehow be connected to transgenderism or travel on the transgender genes. I mean it Bennie. If you don’t produce a maths genius then I’m afraid it’s the lesser plan, the plan that’s vulnerable to bribes and plot; and yes every individual does have his or her price.

At the moment, the secrets are still carried in my head. If I’m not to die as an intellectual intestate, then it means writing down the secrets and that makes them vulnerable to theft and exploitation.
If mankind the politician or mankind the megalomaniac got hold of them, you can bet your bottom dollar they would truly try to lord it over all creation.”

Bennie stared at her father and wagged her head.

“Is that truly your price? — That all men should become philanthropists?”

Beverly nodded dejectedly.

“Yes and I know it’s price they can never raise. It’s their catch twenty two! That’s how I keep a hold on my sanity. The reasoning is simple, the price is impossibly high but bears no relation to greed. If that’s my price, it’s a fair one. The price to me is almost impossibly low but the price to them is almost impossibly high.”

“Oh that’s clever dad, - so simple and so elegant. Though I like your qualifier, - the word almost.”

“There are no absolutes darling. Nothing is absolute or total in this universe; time has taught me that. You see the chronology is subtle. They would have to demonstrate genuine philanthropy before I offer them the secrets. How can they demonstrate their philanthropy without shedding all the trappings and accoutrements of power that they have struggled to acquire?”
Bennie was beginning to see her father in a new light. Everybody had always declared her father to be something of a philistine, a sociopath. It was not the case. Her father had her price, her criteria; - it was just that she didn’t publicise them. If anybody came to her dad with a bribe it was prima-facia evidence that that individual was particularly unsuitable to share the secrets. Catch twenty two!

As they sipped their coffees and looked out over the ever changing Manchester skyline Bennie studied her dad and wondered if it was safe to declare the existence of her two beautiful daughters. She pressed again as her hand rested gently around her daddy’s neck.
“You’re loading me with an unfair burden daddy. What girl would accept me with an onus as heavy as yours? She’d be afraid for her children. They’d be vulnerable to kidnap and all sorts if they were to prove to have the maths thing.”

“All your nephews and nieces faced the same dangers.” Beverly countered. “They still face them because of the family fortunes, just as you five did. Fortunately by reducing poverty world-wide and giving nearly everybody on earth some sort of hope, we managed to keep you kids safe. It’s poverty and inequality that breeds that sort of terror and crime. The problem is there’s no accounting for greed or evaluating it. If a megalomaniac wants power he’ll seek every route to gain it.”

“Exactly daddy, you’ve answered your own question. I’d hate to bring kids into this world with everybody knowing that they’ve got the gene and therefore they would be worth kidnapping. They could kidnap the kids and then mould them to their way.
What did the old Jesuits used to say? ‘Give us the child, you can have the man.’ The kids would be prisoners to all sorts of oppressive security and stuff.”

Beverly smiled softly and sighed as she studied her beautiful ‘daughter’. She understood exactly why Bennie was moving heaven and earth to keep her twins and their mother a secret. The less the world knew of Bennie’s children, the safer they were; especially as they were outside the umbrella of the Taff family circle.

She debated whether to confess that she knew of Bennie’s twins and finally decided she would. In truth Beverly was desperate to see her grandchildren. She sat on the settee and patted the cushion to invite her ‘daughter’ to sit beside her. Bennie smiled with all the affection that a loving daughter could muster for her devoted father. She snuggled up to her dad and tightened her arm around Beverly’s neck.

“What is it daddy? Something’s bothering you, I can tell.”

“Can I confess something to you?” Beverly swallowed nervously.

Bennie’s smile faded. She wasn’t a stupid girl by any measure and she sensed what was coming. She nodded as she placed her coffee on the little side table in anticipation of any shocks.

“You’re not ill are you?” She whispered fearfully. “You’re not asking me to try for a child because you’re shuffling off your mortal coil?”

It was Beverly’s turn to smile. ‘At least her ‘daughter’ Bennie still cared enough to worry for her old dad.’ Beverly took a deep breath and took the plunge as she exhaled slowly. Bennie recognised her father’s peculiar way of breathing whenever she had something important to divulge or she was thinking hard. All the children and their mother Ruby recognised the signs. Bennie sat expectantly on the settee as her daddy explained.

“No darling, I’m not ill but I’m afraid.” Beverly reassured then worried her daughter in that short sentence.

“Afraid of what?” Bennie frowned.

“I’m afraid you might be angry with me.”

“Why should I be angry with you?”

“Well. — well I haven’t been totally honest with you.”

Bennie’s frown deepened and she looked sharply at her beloved dad.

“Go on! What have you done?”

“Promise me you’ll not be angry.”

“I’ll try but until I know, how can I promise?”

Beverly breathed out again, slowly as she anticipated the onslaught.

“Well I found out, - found out about your children, that is. It was an accident mind.”

Bennie did not explode; instead she fell into a thoughtful silence that prompted Beverly to continue.

“I overheard you and Khatia in the club last night. Yes I know about Khatia as well, you sat right behind me in the club and you never recognised me. ‘Thank God for wigs and neurotic transvestites’ is all I can say. Half the girls there were in some sort of disguise. I thought by now, with so much more freedom, things would have eased up. Though I noticed some of them spoke with foreign accents.”

Bennie nodded and explained.

“Yes daddy, lots of girls come over from ‘abroad’ they still face problems in their own countries. Most of them work in your own factory over there, (Bennie motioned her thumb towards Trafford park.) you took a big risk that nobody recognised you.”
“Don’t worry darling, your daddy is a mistress of disguises. Besides, I haven’t been to Manchester for years, fifteen in fact.”

“And yet you still keep the apartment on!”

“Hey, I’m rich! It’s hardly a burden is it? Besides I like Manchester and I notice you do too.”

Bennie stared at the floor as she considered the implications of her dad finding out. She also had fears about the issue; she had been frightened ever since the twin girls had been born. Not only where there issues with Bennie’s parents. Khatia also had not told her parents. The shame and dishonour would have put Khatia’s life in jeopardy. If Khatia’s Muslim Family found out that their wayward ‘disappeared’ daughter had upped and formed a relationship with a non-Muslim and worse still, had children by him, then it was a fair chance that some idiot belonging to the clan would go for an honour killing. Khatia was in as much peril as her daughters. Bennie had even paid for Khatia to have secret facial surgery that had enhanced her already beautiful features. At least Khatia was now unrecognisable as the old Fatima, from Bradford. Now Bennie debated telling her dad the whole story. She continued staring long and hard at the floor until finally Beverly broke the silence.

“You’re worried aren’t you?”

“Yes daddy, there’s more than meets your eyes.”

“D’you want to tell?”

Slowly, haltingly, Bennie explained the events of the past few