The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike) Part 1597 by Angharad Copyright © 2011 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

I got ready to dish up the dinner when Tom came in and after I pecked him on the cheek, he told me there was an article in the local paper I should see. For all of a couple of seconds I wanted to read the paper but he took it away with him. I continued my housekeeping and only after clearing up the debris from dinner did I remember the paper.

I asked him about the paper and he sent Livvie to get it from the lounge. I made some fresh tea and settled down to read the paper. “What am I looking for?”

“Ye’ll ken when ye see it.”

I sipped my tea and read the front page and felt a sense of dread. I hoped there was nothing negative about the university, my students or me. On page five I saw what he’d been on about.

‘Southampton Entertainer is found dead.’ was the headline. I felt quite ill when I read the article.

‘Keith Sunderland, otherwise known as Mae Vest was found dead in suspicious circumstances at his flat above the nightclub he ran with his partner Bernard Thomas, better known as Lottie Totty. They were well known as a drag act who hosted the ‘Crosser’s Club’ in the city.

Over the last two years they gave lots of would be drag acts a chance to show their wares and their sequins as they entertained the ‘owls’ of Southampton. They also apparently offered a place for cross-dressers to change and relax in a club atmosphere.

Passers-by heard a commotion at approximately 4.00am and police were called after screams for help were heard. On entering the building they discovered the body of Mr Sunderland in one of the bedrooms. It was thought he’d been strangled. A man was arrested at the scene and is helping the police with their investigation.’

“Is it the same one?” I asked thinking back to the time when I was suspended for allegedly trying to run down on my bike a student who’d told me he wanted a sex-change. I spent a few uncomfortable days while the police investigated. He left the university and dropped the charges and only after Tom insisted I be returned to my post, was I allowed back to the university. I wondered what had happened to him–he was mad as a hatter, but I wouldn’t have wished that on him.

“Aye, I reckon it’s him.”

“Poor man.”

“Ye feel sorry f’ him?”

“Of course, once he left and the police told me there was no case to answer and I got back to work, it was all over as far as I was concerned.”

“What’s all this?” asked Stella.

“Oh about three years ago I had a student come to see me to tell me he wanted to change sex. I wasn’t that interested in being involved, I’d sorted myself, was no expert on the matter, and frankly, I wasn’t that interested in what others wanted to do.”

“Quite right too,” Stella nodded, “why should you, unless you knew them beforehand or were part of some support group?”

“I told them the university would support them and to go and see student health or their doctor, which was all I was required to do. He’d seen my TV appearance with Simon when we announced our engagement and tried to kill the interest of the press.”

“It pretty well worked didn’t it?”

“Yeah, more or less, we gave the BBC an exclusive and the rest did an article the next day and that was that. I don’t think the locals covered it once the nationals ran it. Anyway, young Sunderland...”

“Young? Come off it Granny,” heckled Stella.

“He was younger than I, okay not by much maybe five years, but he came to see me in private thinking I would help him. I did, but only by the minimum required and he went off in a huff. I didn’t think he was kosher anyway.”

“Just as well, if they’ve been circumnavigated it leaves less skin to make the vaginal tissue.”

“Don’t you mean circumscribed?” I said laughing.

“Maybe,” she shrugged, “Get on with it, Watts.” Tom was chortling away to himself.

“Anyway, he went off in a huff and then on the way home, I was cycling, I was so deep in thought about the incident, I nearly hit a pedestrian who stepped out into the road. To my horror, I saw it was him. He ran off, reported me to the university for attempting to run him down, called the police and generally shit stirred. He tried to make out I’d attempted to kick him as I went past.”

“You’d fall off wouldn’t you?” Stella reasoned.

“Precisely my point, but it was only when the plod examined the CCTV of the incident could they see I was telling the truth.”

“Like you always do, St Catherine.” Stella was now taking the piss.

“Except when talking to you, sister dear.”

“Or the tax man?” she queried.

“No you’re confusing me with a certain football manager.”

“Of course. You know me, football managers, university teachers–they’re all the same overpaid and under occupied.”

“In Italy, I’ve been led to believe you might be right, over here, no they’re not the same. University teachers are worse.”

“Worse are they?” Confirmed Stella making Tom choke on his tea.

“Definitely, we’re far worse than football managers when it comes to pay.”

“You’re over paid?” Stella looked askance at me.

“No, much worse paid, what did you think I meant?”

“I was beginning to wonder. So the man you tried to kill is dead–saved you the effort of another try.”

“Stella, I didn’t try the first time–he lied and was proved to have lied.”

“So did you do a contract on him? Simon has contacts.”

“Simon doesn’t wear contacts or glasses. His sight is fine–although he keeps telling me I’m beautiful, so maybe it is defective.”

“Could be,” agreed Stella, and I glared at her until she sniggered. “This bloke is dead, end of story.”

“I had no idea they had a drag club in Southampton.” I confessed my ignorance.

“Why should you? Lots of women see drag artists as insulting.”

“I must admit it tends to make me cringe rather than laugh.”

“Cathy, unless they’re very good, and by that I mean beautiful as well as genuinely funny, not just misogynistic, I tend to find them very tedious–but then stereotyping is.”

“Aren’t you doing just that, stereotyping drag queens?” I asked her.

“Probably, I haven’t seen that many except on telly.”

“I don’t think I’ve watched any live, isn’t my thing, and the ones on telly, except the one who gave Anne Robinson a run for her money on the Weakest Link, bore me. Sorry, I feel uncomfortable with it.”

“I can understand that,” offered Stella, “Too close to home, perhaps?”

“No, more a question of I’m wanting to be taken seriously as a woman, and they’re doing the opposite.”

“Ah, but you have an advantage, you are a woman, so why shouldn’t people take you seriously–they do, don’t they?” She had me there.

“I dunno,” I shrugged but really it showed my Achilles heel yet again and I wanted to burst into tears with anger at myself. One day I hoped this would go away and stay away, but obviously not just yet.