Cathy meets a neighbour...read on, if you dare!

Easy As Falling Over The Cat.
by Angharad.
part 67.

I had stowed my weekend bag in the boot and was busy familiarising myself with the controls. It took a little while but I got there, including flashing my windscreen wipers at some bloke who cut me up. By the time I'd got the lights switch, he was long gone.

After getting out of Portsmouth, I felt a bit easier and the clutch and gear box felt more comfortable. I had stalled it twice, but then I wasn't a regular driver, if I'd stalled my bike I would be cross!

It was a lovely little car, remarkably quiet and responsive. I remembered my father joking with me that Herr Benz had called his car after his daughter, Mercedes, because it was quiet and responsive like a woman should be. He laughed at his joke, I didn't but I now understood one more dimension of it.

The boot was definitely on the other foot and I wasn't at all sure how I was going to play it. As I drove I thought through several ways things could go, but the one firm conclusion was, for the first time I was coming from a position of strength. In his hands that had led to abuse, In mine I was determined for that not to happen whatever the outcome. At worst I would just pick up my bed and walk. That was no problem, it was if the best thing happened that frightened me so I stopped thinking about it.

I'd elected to ditch the motorway as soon as I could. As primarily a cyclist, they were verboten, a sort of forbidden world and I was glad to get off and take the much more scenic route up the A36 from Southampton. It touches on Salisbury and Wilton, Warminster and Bath before it leads into Bristol. A row of historic towns and cities and en route, a pile of historic traffic jams and slow progress. Any advantage I thought I had was now being lost behind slow moving lorries and trucks, or the odd even slower tractor.

I was expected between two and three o'clock, I was approaching Bristol before one, so I had an hour to kill. I drove up on to the downs near Brunel's suspension bridge over the Clifton Gorge, the sight still thrilled me. Isambard Kingdom Brunel, might not have been a very likeable character, but as an engineer, he was a genius. I wondered if I spent any time here if I'd manage to visit the SS Great Britain, one of the world's first steam ships and the first to be driven by a screw propellor. It was years since I'd been there and was curious to see how much more restoration had taken place.

Now I had a car, I could do these things. I stopped myself and corrected my illusion, I didn't have a car, it was Simon's and he was generous enough to allow me the use of it. I must not abuse that generosity, nor must I forget that I didn't really need the car.

Then I had another more depressing thought, if my father was badly affected by this stroke, I might be up and down this road quite often, assuming he wanted me to come and see him.

Then the idea of staying at the house I used to call home depressed me. If my mother had still been alive and living there, it would have been different, but she wasn't and the ghosts it held weren't very nice ones, especially in recent years.

"Bugger," I heard myself call out in frustration, "Why did this have to happen now? Is this their fucking god punishing me, or testing me. well you can fuck off now, because I'm going to do what I want for once!" I yelled at the sky. Historically, I believed the god of the Judeo-Christian religion was a sky god.

I threw the remains of my sandwich to a group of pigeons, only to have a herring gull sneak in and pinch most of it. It was typical of my life, I plod along like a pigeon and some sodding gull comes along and everything changes. I suppose in that analogy, I had to be wary of any peregrines that might be around, or I would be an ex-pigeon very quickly.

My mind somehow switched to a Monty Python sketch, the dead parrot one and I began to laugh and laugh, almost hysterically. Anyone watching me would perhaps assume I was psychotic, screaming at the sky and then laughing hysterically. Maybe I was, if it was the case then whose fault was that? I sneered at the sky again knowing the message had been received. Anyway, a lightning bolt would have been useless, in cars, the Farraday cage effect happens. Knowing I was safe, I poked my tongue out at the sky as well. Well small things please small minds, so I was quite happy.

I calmed down and checked my makeup in the vanity mirror on the back of the sun visor. It was okay. I finished up the drink I had and deposited the bottle back in the plastic bag I had looped around the gear lever. I freshened my lipstick and checked the time. It was nearly a quarter to two. I started the car and remembered it had a CD player. I would do a copy of the Abba album I'd bought and keep it in the car, for now I shoved the original in the player and its bouncy music lifted my spirits as I headed for my father's house.

"Knowing me knowing you, aha,
there is nothing we can do."

I sang along to the disc and suddenly I had parked outside the building that had once been my home. It felt very strange. I killed the engine and collecting my handbag walked on nervous legs to the front door. It opened before I had a chance to ring the bell.

"You must be Catherine? Come on in, I'm Margaret Soames." She held out her hand and I shook it weakly, all the strength I thought I had acquired had disappeared and I was once more powerless and helpless in my father's fortress.

"Would you like a cuppa?" She asked and it felt odd to be entertained in my old home by a woman I'd never met before.

"Did I meet you at my mother's funeral?" I asked trying to figure out where she fitted in the scheme of things.

"No sadly, I was on holiday visiting my son in Australia. I only got back a few days ago, still a bit jet lagged to be honest. I didn't know your mother for very long, we only moved in to the area about six months ago and we met in the local Asda can you believe?"

Well she hadn't mentioned church or god yet, nor decried me as an abomination, so things are looking up. "In Asda, the supermarket?"

"Well the cafe place it has. It was a busy day and we shared a table and got talking. She invited me around and my husband got on with Derek, they both support Gloucester in the cricket and like the rugger, so we all got on very well.

I had to know what was coming, so I had to pry. "So you're not from the same church as them, then?"

"No, neither of us has much time for religion although I believe it's important to your pare... your father."

I sighed a huge breath of relief. "Thank God for that," I said quietly, but not quietly enough.

"I take it you have problems with your father's church?"

"It was one of the reasons we didn't get on too well."

"Oh I see, enough said then. Milk and sugar?"

"No just milk, thanks. Shouldn't I be serving you?" I asked still unsure about my status.

"I suppose technically this used to be your home, but I've been popping in to help Derek cope with things since your mum died, so I suppose I know my way around quite well."

I don't know if she sensed my unease or if I registered some sort facial expression, because she suddenly changed her position. "Of course now you're back home, I'll only come when you need me or if Derek asks me to come back and help. Two women in one kitchen, and that sort of thing." She smiled but it wasn't a friendly one, I was challenging her status quite deliberately.

Now it was time to show my graciousness. "No please do feel free to come and go as you please, I don't know how long I shall be staying."

She smiled again, a little more friendly this time, but if she got under my feet, I'd ask for the key back. Suddenly I didn't feel so helpless, I was for the moment the woman of this house, something I had never felt before. Maybe my stay was going to be easier than I at first thought. Whatever happened, I felt stronger than I had ever been before in that house and it felt good. It wasn't my home any more but it was my territory and I was becoming proprietorial.

We had tea and chatted. "I didn't know Derek had a daughter until I came back from my holiday and he said you'd come to the funeral. He said there'd been a schism between you both, and you didn't see each other too often."

"Yes that's right, we had a difference of opinion about religion and things got rather heated. I left and didn't come back until now."

"Gosh, and what about your brother? I remember them talking about him but not you. I find that strange."

"Yes it is." I wondered how she would receive the truth or if she actually already knew it and was playing games.

"What did they tell you about Charlie?"

"That he'd become apostate and left after a row, a bit like yourself."

"Yes, just like me." If this were a spy film or a thriller, I'd let her ramble on then kill her. It was so tempting, but then she did do dad's vacuuming, so I'd spare her life for the moment.

"He lives in Portsmouth too, do you see him often."

Only when I look in the mirror, "Occasionally."

"You both do biology at the university?"

"Yes."

"Are you twins or something?"

"They didn't tell you?"

"Tell me what?"

"I killed him."

She went white and her teacup began to rattle in its saucer. "Oh!" she squeaked.

"Only metaphorically," I added. I could really get into this power stuff.

She gave me a perplexed looked.

"I am Charlie, or I was."

"What?" She shook her head in disbelief.

"I'm transsexual."

"Goodness," she sighed, "I'd never have guessed."

"Sorry if I shocked you, I needed to know what you knew before I said anything."

"You didn't need to say anything."

"Daddy would probably have said something eventually and I thought I'd give you my perspective first."

"I see, so it wasn't the religious stuff that you fell out over?"

"Oh that as well, but when he beat me up for telling him what I was, I vowed never to speak to him again."

"He hit you?"

"He did it regularly, I didn't match up with his standards of masculinity and asked awkward questions about religion. I'm a scientist, I need to verify facts as best I can, religion doesn't do that for me. The night I told him I was transsexual he beat me quite badly. I tried to finish the job with paracetamol back in Portsmouth and only by accident was discovered. I see a wonderful woman doctor who is helping me realise my true self."

"Goodness that is amazing, I'd never have guessed. You make a very pretty woman."

"Thank you. I'm sorry if I scared you earlier." I felt rather ashamed of the earlier powerplay.

"Oh that's all right. Look why don't you come around for dinner when you finish at the hospital? Come and meet my husband Greg."

"Does he have to know?"

"I suppose not, but he'll flirt with you mercilessly if he doesn't."

"Is that a problem?" I asked not sure how I had taken her last comment.

"I don't know." She looked as if she had said something that revealed something she didn't want to say. "It shouldn't worry me should it?"

"I can assure you that I won't steal him away from you. If I did my boyfriend would want his car back." I smiled as if I'd just cracked a joke but I was testing her reaction and she wasn't doing too well in hiding them.

"You have a boyfriend then?"

"Yes, didn't you at my age?"

What she wanted to say was, 'Yes but I'm a real woman, you're not,' but she didn't, instead came, "I suppose I did. I'm sorry Catherine, you've caught me on the hop a little."

"If you want to cancel the invite, it's okay."

"No certainly not, the more I know about you the more I like you." She was lying, but what the hell?

Soon after she left and I found my father's set of keys, and collected his PJs plus any other stuff I thought he might need. In doing so I went up to my old room, I would have to make up my bed but otherwise it was much as before, it was me who was different.