Daphne's first encounter with Jean Lewis, Briony's mother.

The Welsh Mountain Ram 37.

Briony Davies Nee Lewis ... Betrayed wife and mother.
Sion Her eight-year-old son.
Ellairy... Her nine-month--old daughter.
Arfon Davies... Brionys’ abusive and unfaithful husband.
Dave Cadwalloder... Welsh bachelor hill-farmer.
Jenny and Lassie... Daves’ sheepdog bitches.
Laddie... Daves’ sheepdog.
Jessica and Pansy... Daves’ sows.
Angel... Daves’ mare.
Gabriella (Gabby)... Angels’ foal (Gift to Sion.)
Elsbeth... Briony’s sister.
Daphne... Daves’ ‘girlfriend’
Cledwyn... Farmer further down the valley (Neighbour.)
Blodwen... Cledwyn’s daughter.
Rachel... Daphne’s TV friend.
Shirley... Rachels’ GG wife.
Fajita... The maid.
James & Tara... Rachel’s teenaged children (16 & 15)
Billy and Janet... Manager and accountant at Daphne’s club.
Terry... New Zealand Shepherd.
Wendy... Blodwens best friend at school. Also Dave’s friend.
Jane... Policewoman at Machynlleth.
Jack Davies... Sergeant North Wales Police.
Joyce... Blodwen’s Partner.
Edward Lewis... Briony’s father.
Jean Lewis... Briony’s mother.

The Ram 37.

Daphne and Colin were chatting about Arfon’s attack on Plas Graig Las when Colin spotted movement at the front door.

“Hey-up! Something’s happening. It’s the girls and their mother.”

“They’ve got a tray, they’re coming over here.” Daphne observed as Colin got out anticipating any problems.

Jean crossed the road, and strode along the verge towards the Bridge as Colin stood resting his arms on the roof of the patrol car.

“Afternoon Mrs Lewis. Am I to take it that tea’s for us.”

“You and that other person,”

Jean had momentarily forgotten Daphne’s name in all the tension. Colin saved her from embarrassment.

“Daphne Mrs Lewis, Daphne Cadwalloder.”

He tapped the roof of the car as prearranged and Daphne emerged as Jean Lewis approached to within a few feet. She looked up into the cool grey-green eyes and failed to read them.

‘They were not girl’s eyes yet nor where they a man’s.’

She found herself nervously casting around for somewhere to put the tray but the bonnet was too sloped with the car parked canted on the verge. Eventually she rested it carefully on the roof next to Colin then stood back to better study the tall slender conundrum before her. For her part, Daphne said nothing to avoid any charges of provoking trouble but because she was one of the tallest, she laid the stacked cups out on the car roof and proceeded to pour the tea. Jean Lewis did not know what to say so Colin broke the impasse.

“Two sugars and lots of milk for me Daph.”

This broke the ice insofar as it compelled Jean Lewis to talk as Daphne turned inquisitively whilst brandishing the pot.

“Oh. Milk, no sugar please.”

The others made their orders and soon they were grouped around the patrol car. Briony decided to introduce Daphne.

“Uuuhm, Mam, this is Daphne my intended partner; Daphne this is my mam, Jean, Jean Lewis.”

Cautiously, Daphne extended a hand as she replied.

“Delighted to meet you Mrs Lewis.”

“You’d better call me Jean.”

Daphne smiled weakly and the silence stubbornly refused to go away. Briony was too nervous to force the pace, her mother was still unsettled and Daphne simply didn’t know what to say to break the uncertain tension. In the end it was Sion who inadvertently eased the logjam of uncertainty.

“Daphne’s got a farm and she’s given me a horse.”

Jean turned to her grandson seeking enlightenment.

“Oh. What sort of horse.”

Sion frowned at the seeming fatuousness of the question.

“A horse - horse Nine, you know one of those things with four legs and a tail. Her name is Gabby, short for Gabriella. I’ll be able to ride her next Christmas.”

The last statement made it clear that Sion fully expected to be living with Daphne and his mum a year from then. His words made it obvious he knew their plans and he was included in them. Jean glanced up at Daphne.

“So you have every intention of marrying Briony.”

“Uuuhm, yes. I do.”

“You made that sound like the wedding service right there.”

“Well it’s the truth Mrs Lewis; we do plan on getting married in June a couple of months after our children are born.”

“And d’you not think we should have any say?”

Daphne fell silent. She could think of a dozen admonishments but she bit her tongue. Briony was an adult woman with a ten-year-old son and twenty-one month daughter, so in Daphne’s eyes that left Briony absolutely free to decide her own fate. Jean took Daphne’s silence to be some sort of acquiescence and she dug herself deeper.

“We reserve the right to advise our own daughter about choices in marriage, especially as she chose so badly the first time.”

Daphne was about to let rip but Briony leapt in angrily.

“It wasn’t a marriage mam; that was an escape attempt!”

“Well it wasn’t very successful was it?”

“What d’you mean, I escaped! I’m free now aren’t I? Free to marry the partner of my choice.”

“So she’s your choice. Well I suppose at least she’ll not knock you or our grandchildren about. She’s only a tall, skinny, slip of a thing.”

Briony got a little angry at the subliminal suggestion of ownership of her children and the criticism of Daphne’s slender, willowy frame. She snapped angrily again.

“What d’you mean your grandchildren? They’re my children; you have no say in their welfare or future. If you want to see them in future, you’ll have to accept Daphne for who she is.”

Jean could make no immediate riposte to Briony so she turned to Daphne.

“And what sort of person are you. Do you know how to look after our daughter?”

Daphne was about to answer when Briony plunged in again.

“I’ll tell you want sort of person she is. She’s the sort of person who rescued me and ‘your grandchildren’ from certain freezing death. She's the sort of person who gave us food and shelter for days without any question of reward or payment. She’s the sort of person who kept us under her roof alone and vulnerable without any salacious suggestions of payment for services rendered; you know ... sex or anything. She’s the sort of person who’d make you an excellent son-in-law if you could but see your way past the gender thing!”

“If I look past ‘The gender thing,’ as you call it ... all I can see is another daughter-in-law.”

This time Daphne got her argument in before Briony took off on another verbal rampage.”

“Would another daughter-in-law be a bad thing Mrs Lewis?”

The question left Jean Lewis floundering as she searched for a valid material reason that would make a daughter-in-law unacceptable. The only factor that kept crashing into her mind was acceptability ... what would other people think, what would the chapel say. She cursed silently as she struggled to find a valid reason that did not hinge on bigotry and prejudice.

“What do your own parents think? Do they accept your (She was about to say perversion but she just managed to stop herself.) condition?”

Daphne savoured her answer despite the painful memory it resurrected.

“My parents are dead Mrs Lewis. My mother died when I was just turned two and my father died when I was nineteen. He had been seriously ill and virtually house-bound since I was sixteen”

Jean’s agile mind did some mental arithmetic as she wondered how one so young had come by a farm. Naturally she asked the question.

“So how did you come by the farm? Is it paid for? Can you really support my daughter?”

Elspeth’s derisive snort brought her mother up short and Jean rounded on her other daughter.

“What are you sniggering at?”

Elspeth snapped back.

“Daphne’s not poor mam. She’s not some dirt grubbing, hand-to-mouth, hill farmer.”

It was at last, Daphne’s turn to take the offensive as she found some moral factor to hang an accusative question on. Attack was often the best form of defence.

“Is this what it’s all about, whether I can support your daughter?”

“Yes! Can’t you get that?” Jean protested. “It’s that and this transgender business.”

“So why didn’t you simply ask whether I could support her or not?”

“That’s her father’s job. He’s not here to ask.”

“And he never will be!” Briony cursed. “If you still can’t get out from under his thumb, then you’re unlikely to see these children again. If Daphne’s not welcome in your home then you aren’t welcome in ours.”

It was Daphne’s turn to become a moderator. She had been ‘listening-between-the-lines’ and it seemed that Briony’s mum was not entirely against their union.

“Whoa! Hold on Bri; let’s cross that bridge when we get to it. We’re not even married yet, aren’t you jumping in a bit early. I think your mum can be persuaded to accept us ... or rather, me.”

Spotting a chance at reconciliation or compromise, Jean ventured forward carefully and thoughtfully.

‘Briony had often been strong-willed and it was that cavalier streak that had precipitated the breakdown with her father; which was not to say that Edward had not been more responsible than Briony over the breakdown. It seemed that her new partner, this Trans-whatever person was a bit more amenable than Arfon and Edward.’

She caught Daphne’s eye and they each recognised that the other was trying to reach some sort of compromise. Jean ventured another question to Daphne.

“What are you suggesting girl?”

Daphne noted the female noun and silently thanked Jean Lewis. It was a small advance but at least things were moving in the right direction. She replied in a conciliatory tone.

“I’m saying we shouldn’t burn any boats yet for the children’s sakes ... the born and the unborn.”

Jean recognised the olive branch and paused thoughtfully. She wondered if this girl was playing a game of emotional chess or if this was a genuine offer of conciliation. She hit the ball firmly back into Daphne’s court.

“So what are you suggesting?”

“I don’t know ... yet! But we’ve obviously started out on the wrong foot. Perhaps if you backed up a bit and we explored other avenues, not today, not even tomorrow but before we get married.”

“So. If I ‘back up a bit’ as you put it why can’t you ‘back up a bit’ as well?”

Daphne spoke softly to reinforce the sincerity of her statement.

“I can’t back up Mrs Lewis. There is nowhere to ‘back-up to’; I’m transgendered. There never was any heterosexual condition to start from. I was born this way and I’ll always be this way. There’s no way back for me. That’s the bottom line I’m afraid.”

For the first time, Jean Lewis got an insight into Daphne’s life. She didn’t understand what she saw but she certainly felt the reality and the subsequent weight of that burden. She replied but her words sounded fatuous even as they left her lips.

“You’re stuck like that aren’t you?”

“Like a wasp in jam, Jean, like shit to a blanket. It’s cast in stone.”

“But if you’re a woman, why do you like women?” Surely you’d want to marry a man!”

Daphne sighed. The next step was going to be the acid test. ‘Could Jean Lewis understand it?’ Daphne wondered.

“I don’t want to marry a Man Mrs Lewis. I’m transgendered, not gay. Well no, that’s not exactly right, I’m intergendered. That’s a sort of gender ‘inbetweeny’”

Jean Lewis was now more confused but she manfully struggled to make sense of it all. Her only conception of gender was either male or female, the logical follow-on was that transgendered people strove to transition to the other sex. Now here was somebody purporting to be an ‘Inbetweenie’ and not wishing to move all the way across the gender divide. Jean Lewis had a problem with that. She found it difficult, indeed almost impossible to accept that somebody could voluntarily want to remain somewhere ‘in-between’. Jean’s other problem was that this individual wanted to marry her daughter. Indeed ... had already impregnated her daughter.

She stared first at the floor, then at Briony then towards her other daughter Elspeth and finally towards Colin the police officer. Nowhere did she find support or censure or any flicker of acknowledgement as each individual remained resolutely impassive. She was forced to turn again to Daphne who at least bore some semblance of compassion in her expression, some indication of recognising the turmoil Jean was going through. Daphne recognised Jean’s silence as an indicator of her confusion so she ventured a comment.

“I know it’s difficult to understand Mrs Williams, it was just as difficult and painful for me when I first realised there was something different about me. I had to come to terms with this alone and un-aided at a very early age.”

Jean seized the lifeline that Daphne seemed to offer. By admitting to her own difficulties in coming to terms with her problem, Daphne was helping Jean come to terms with her conflicts and, equally importantly, save face. She asked Daphne.

“How old where you when this ... this gender thing started?”

“I was very young Mrs Williams. I was about four I think.”

“You think; didn’t you know?”

“It wasn’t that certain; it wasn’t like some sort of brilliant flash of revelation. I’ve worked it out now but back then I was hopelessly lost. As I said, I’m not transgendered, I’m intergendered. I didn’t know if I was Arthur or Martha back then. I was four! What does a four-year-old know especially when he has nobody to confide in, nobody to ask.”

“There was your father.” Jean offered lamely. “You could have confided in him.”

Daphne frowned. Back then, her dad was still recovering from his own losses, the loss of his wife and still-born daughter. As a very young son, Daphne/David just had to get on with stuff until his grandmother came to help and that had not really improved things. She was elderly and frail herself but set in her ways. David had sensed that his grandmother would not have approved of his cross-dressing. Hence he always did it whilst locked away in the attic where his grandmother could not climb and his father was too busy to ever go. As he thought back to his secret activities, David explained a little further.

“It started in a small way at first with my cross-dressing. I had the opportunity because my father never threw away my mother’s stuff. He moved it up to the attic and just went on with his life as best he could. He never married again and he told me he loved her too much to marry somebody else. For that I loved him, I had read the nursery stories about wicked step-mothers and I was relieved that daddy was not bringing one into our home. I thought the very word ‘step’ was another word for strict or wicked.
My Nan came for a few years but she died when I was eleven and after that I was more or less on my own. My dad was too busy with trying to keep the farm in profit and I ended up more or less living with a friend, Blodwen from the neighbouring farm. Then my dad took ill, so at sixteen I finished school and more or less took over the practical, physical side of running farm. When I was nineteen, he died. He never knew about my intergenderism, he never ever found out.”

“So you’ve been this way all your life?” Jean pressed.

Daphne shrugged and nodded. There was nothing else of consequence to say.

The silence became oppressive but Jean could not take her eyes of Daphne.

‘The girl wasn’t that bad looking; she would not have immediately recognised her for a boy’.

Daphne sensed the ‘inspection’ but she was quite used to people checking her over. Jean was just yet another curious ‘rubberneck’ so Daphne ignored the ‘inspection’ as she sipped her tea and turned to talk to Colin the police officer about getting a lift to her own car parked across town. As she finished her tea, she replaced it delicately on the tray then turned again to Briony’s mum.
“Well Mrs Lewis, I must thank you for the tea but I’ll have to be going soon. I have other stuff to be getting on with and I’d rather not be here when your husband arrives. I don’t want to cause any trouble.”
Jean turned to Colin with beseechment writ large in her eyes.

“I’d prefer for her to stay. I think there’s stuff we need to sort out. Would you stay please Colin, to stop any trouble?”

“That’s up to Miss Cadwalloder Mrs Williams. If she prefers to avoid trouble then I can only commend her. This is a domestic issue and the police don’t usually get involved unless violence is likely. If Miss Cadwalloder wishes to avoid violence then I would prefer to accede to her wish to leave.”

He turned to Daphne who nodded despondently as she agreed.

“It’s best if I go. There’ll be no trouble that way.”

Jean protested vehemently.

“But you can’t go. This business has got to be resolved. I have no wish to lose my grandchildren yet again.”

Briony also wanted the issues resolved so she turned to Daphne and nervously asked.

“D’you have to go? This business has to be sorted. Colin’s here so dad can’t get violent.”

“It’s what he’ll do after we’re gone.” Daphne argued. “Colin can’t stay here forever. I don’t want to be the catalyst to any trouble between your mam and dad. Besides, it’s entirely in your mam’s court now. It’s up to her to tell her husband what she wants ... for a change.”

Jean glared at Daphne when she recognised the criticism. She was about to scold Daphne but realised that what Daphne had implied was true. She had been a bit of a doormat and it had cost her her own children. Not one of her sons or daughters had stayed in Llanidloes, all of them, sons and daughters had moved away. She had slowly come to realise this after Briony had disappeared last Christmas. Briony’s return had only served to reinforce her mother’s insight. She had been something of a doormat.

Now, with Colin to protect her and Daphne as a perfect excuse to finally have it out with Edward, Jean was hoping fervently for a showdown with her husband. Jean’s anger had been slowly boiling up over the last decade. As they reached an uncertain standoff, Elspeth observed.

“I hate to add any further problem but that’s dad just reaching the cross roads. He’s limping as well.”

Jean turned to watch and frowned.

“His foot’s sore. He hurt it a couple of weeks back and if he uses it too much it flares up. It won’t improve his mood.”

“Serve him right,” Briony snapped then added, “he never needed an excuse to bully us anyway ... bad mood or not.”

Daphne said nothing but turned to glance surreptitiously at Colin as she quietly asked advice.

“D’you think I’d better go?”

Colin hesitated, studied Edward Lewis as he limped towards the garden gate then answered.

“He looks too sore to offer any sort of violence. You wait in the car, I’ll go with Mrs Lewis to meet him.”

o0o

Author's note.

I North and Mid Wales grandmother and grandfather are known as Nine and Tide. In South Wales grandparentsa are known as Mam-gi and Tad-gi,

Children will call their grandparents Nine and Tide just as other british children have many other local names Like Ninah and Gramps on the Wirral near Liverpool. In UK there must be dozens of different names for Grand-parents and would think the USA has a hundred more.

XZXX

Bev.