CHAPTER 14
It got easier. No surprises there, but the day was getting closer when I would be able to walk properly with Pete. Do you know, I had no idea how tall he really was?

Even though we had a leg at home now, so Pete could continue to build strength and balance, he was still hunched as he walked.

Jane came through with a settlement, and it was decision time. No, not whether to move in together, that was as certain as sunrise, more where Pete was going. He had to make some decision about a career after he finished his studies, and that would influence where we lived, and at the same time I needed to be within a reasonable morning’s ride of Southampton. I also wanted to be away from my mother.

That sounds nasty, but what I mean is that I wanted to have both personal space for me and Pete, and to leave space for her and Dad. It wasn’t just the rather direct way she gave him instructions when they were being intimate, though that was rather embarrassing for all concerned, it was that all of us needed to recover some independence.. I also wanted to make visits special, not just something that happened every day.

We finally found a three-bed bungalow in Woodlands, just on the edge of the New Forest. The previous owner was being moved by their family to a home for the elderly, so there was no chain, and two months later it was ours. The only real problem was the terrain. Being in the country, I had to start wearing sensible shoes occasionally, and that really went against my nature.

My nature. A slowly blooming pre-operative transsexual rape survivor who had been living in fugue for two decades. As the students would say, “Yeah, right”

And I was blooming. I had breasts at last, not udders like Abigail (and I hoped I had hormones of taste and breeding) but definite, wobbly, sensitive breasts. I had finally finished the beard removal course, which pleased both of us as mutual stubble sort of spoils a good morning kiss, and my mother had treated me to some waxing sessions.

Treat is a word I associate with presents, gifts, not torture. Thank you, Mummy dear.

Jane was pregnant, and engaged, though I am unsure of the exact order, and when Harriet saw the ring she sighed.

“Fucking typical. I walk him past so many jewellers, you two flash your rings, and he still can’t take a hint. I’ll have to stop shagging him until he gets his arse in gear”

She paused, and grinned. “Nope, that would be punishing myself. I‘ll stop his beer instead!”

Mother was my big worry, though, and this may sound selfish. At some point, there would be a wedding, and the decision would have to be made as to where the two of them would live. Dad still had his business in York, and while it would be unfair to expect him to drop it to move down here, it would be almost as unfair for Mum to leave all she knew and move up there. I realised that although this was clearly a matter for the two of them, a family chat about it made sense.

The next time Dad was down we held a housewarming party, with as many of what I now saw as “our friends” as possible, including Howard, Martin, and some of Pete’s cohort of students. That was an interesting experience.

I am the child, a word I use quite deliberately, of my mother. She is a refined lady of impeccable taste, which I know is impeccable because I share it. All except the syrupy music, of course. Jane is a solicitor, so enough said. Howard, Harriet, they move in the same world as I do, and Pete does as I tell him, so we have a general level of refinement that means a party is more of an evening of interesting snacks and conversation over wine than a madhouse of beer and shouting men who can’t sing.

I was able to stand and watch a group of six young things who clearly felt that everything from their clothes to their choice in the bottles they brought was being weighed and found wanting. They were also in a private house with not only lecturers but their faculty heads. I am certain that some of them expected the hand to come out of the air and start writing “mene, mene, tekel upharsin”

The thing was, that while I was dressed as one would expect ,in a rather nice LBD that showed off my, ahem, cleavage, plus the usual shoes and accessories, I was in essence as out of place as they were. Of course, they all knew that, but what they didn’t realise is that I both sympathised and empathised with them, and once we had done all the necessary refined bits, I took everyone down the pub.

Or rather, sent them, in the charge of Ollie, Dave and Martin, while I took a few minutes to have that discussion with Mum and our men. I was straight to the point.

“Mum, Dad, you have probably guessed what I want to talk about. I can’t set any dates or make any plans till my little readjustment is finished, but you two can and should. I see no point in either of you losing any more time, and I am sure you agree. It is just that I would like an idea as to where you will be when we have our own nuptials”

Dad smiled. “You never do anything for just the one reason, do you?”

“ I disagree entirely! There s only one reason I am marrying your son, for example”

“Oh? And that is?”

“Because he has an absolutely enormous……(long pause while Pete and my mother slowly reddened)…amount of love for me. Sorry, Mum, but being human for such a short time has given me a sense of humour proportionate to that age”

Dad smiled. "I can see the little girl in you when you grin, you know. It’s actually quite simple. I am getting on, and I do not want to spend the rest of my life as a worker. This may surprise you, Laura, but us clever businessmen discovered, many years ago, a thing called a ‘manager’. Does that answer your question?”

My hopes were lifted, both for me and Pete. “You are coming down here?”

“Oh yes! I have two kids back, and I want to enjoy my time with them”

Dad left to wipe my lipstick off, and I began to sort out Pete’s chair. He called out to me.

“No, Laura. The Gamekeeper is only a short walk away.”

“Are you sure?”

“You, Mum and Dad will be with me, and I will have a stick. It is a short walk, so I am bloody walking it”

We got everything attached, for which task sent my mother out of the room. Dad was almost in tears as his face was all but rubbed in the state of his son.

“Sorry, Dad, but this is how it is. Look at it this way: when was the last time I walked to a pub with you? New house, new beginning, OK?”

We got him fastened, his trousers up, and I helped him to his feet. Foot. Feet. He stood up as tall as he could, and for the first time I could measure myself properly against him. About six foot one, I guessed, and as my heels brought me up to about five foot nine, it was perfect, but then I thought he was perfect anyway.

“Cinders is going to the ball” he said, “and he’s taking his mother in law!”

We slowly made our way up Woodlands Road to the pub, Pete eschewing the stick for my arm, and when we joined the rest and they saw him upright, there was a cheer, Ollie in particular looking so proud I thought he would burst.. Pete did the boxer’s salute thing, and once again I could see every scar in his face as he grinned, and I knew he was happy.

It was a very different evening to the house party, and I felt a little out of place in my posh frock, though I did get my bottom squeezed, and not by Pete. The only slight darkener of the evening was when a couple of well refreshed men started bumping into Pete at the bar, and I saw Dad have a quiet word with them, after which, for some reason, they decided to move away. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Martin put back down the empty glass he had picked up, and as I looked round the group I saw that almost everyone seemed, well, ‘poised’.

It was one of those moments where you realise that it is not that you have been perceptive in picking out a diamond that others have missed, but that everyone else has realised their quality, and you just happen to have been the lucky one who got in first.

Pete, unfortunately, was so pleased by his new freedom that he ended up rather well refreshed himself, and with a stream of jokes about hollow legs and being legless, he made the return journey supported by Ollie and Dad and trying to sing. Some of the crowd left for home from the pub, but we still had a hard core to spread blankets and sleeping bags in the living and dining rooms while H and Ollie took one spare room and Dad and Mum the other. Sharon had, as usual, stayed on soft drinks for love of Dave’s love of beer, so we kissed goodnight and I went to our bedroom to put my happy little soldier to bed.