Just to prove I can write a complete story. This was written for the proto-Gabycon in July 2007, and read to the assembled crowds by the author(who has since lived in hiding). It has previously been posted on Maddy Bell's site.

Gaby’s Manx Tale.
By Angharad.

“You do this to me everytime,” protested Drew.

“You could always do your own packing!” snapped Maddy and went off down the corridor.

Drew shrugged his shoulders and zipped up his case again. He left it by the side of Dave’s seat and set off in pursuit of Maddy. He searched high and low before he found her on the observation deck of the ferry. He was about to say something when he looked out to sea and noticed the wind farm; a collection of giant wind turbines standing in the sea a short way off Heysham. People were busy taking photographs and Drew wished he’d remembered to bring his camera up to the deck.

“Cor, look at them, Mad!” he exclaimed pointing at the wind turbines.

“I had noticed them myself,” she replied sulkily.

“Yeah, okay,” he said his excitement dying like someone had switched off its power supply. Maddy still had the power to bring him to heel in a moment and had just exercised that power. Each time she did it, he promised himself he wouldn’t allow her to do it again, but each time he succumbed.

They both spent some time staring out to sea before he surrendered and apologised. “Look I’m like sorry for yelling at you, but I wanted this to be one trip where we left Gaby at home.”

“You asked me to pack, I packed the only clean underwear I could find. I also packed the only clean nightwear I could find and the only clean jeans and tops. I simply threw in a couple of pairs of shoes and your makeup, plus a small hand bag.”

“The only thing of mine in there is my cycling kit!” said Drew feeling exasperated.

“That’s Gaby’s too;” smirked Maddy.

“What?”

“It’s the personalised Specialized one, with those lovely matching red shoes.” Maddy threw him a beaming smile and he fought hard to stay annoyed. He lost the fight.

“Oh, Mad, they’re expecting me as a boy, what am I gonna do, what is Dad gonna say? He’ll think it’s my fault again.” He looked down at his trainers, suddenly discovering that they were also some of his Gaby togs. “Oh no, I’ve got Gaby’s trainers on, no wonder they gave me funny looks in the gents toilet.”

“I think those might be Jules’ jeans as well,” smirked Maddy.

Drew looked at them, “How can you tell?”

“They have embroidery on the back pockets,” she chuckled, “You can’t pin that on me, you were wearing them before I arrived.”

“Well I overslept, an’ by the time I got my bike ready, it was all a bit of a rush. That’s why I asked you to help.”

“I only packed what I could find, there was no other underwear,” pleaded Maddy.

“Yeah, okay. The ‘UNDERPANTS’,” he exaggerated the word, “are the ones I wear these days.”

Maddy tittered as she realised he was admitting to wearing knickers, or bikini briefs to be exact, all the time. “And the matching er um, you know what?” she twisted the knife as she was referring to camisoles and bras.

He spluttered and blushed before almost coughing out his reply, “Erm, yeah.”

“Aren’t you worried someone will spot them through your clothes?”

“Sometimes, but otherwise it hurts when I walk or run,” said Drew blushing.

Maddy grinned and nodded, “Yeah it does, I keep forgetting about your little growths.”

“Not so little anymore,” said Drew looking out at the wind turbines which were rapidly diminishing as the SS Ben-My-Chree continued its way through the Irish Sea.

Maddy chuckled, “I’ve seen so little of you recently I’m rather glad you asked me to come with you.”

“It’s been so busy lately and going over to Germany to see Mum race was ace but also took up quite a bit of time.”

“You haven’t said much about it, are you sure it was so enjoyable?” Maddy leant on the rail looking out to sea, mimicking Drew’s stance but also affording them some privacy from other passengers who were walking by.

“You always know, don’t you?” said Drew shaking his head.

“Always know what?” asked Maddy looking very surprised.

“When something isn’t right with me.”

“What isn’t right?” Maddy looked quite concerned.

“They all thought I was a girl again.” Drew looked out to sea and swallowed down the tears which were threatening to escape his eyes.

“Who’s they?”

“All the cycling team, plus George the manager. In the end I had to borrow some clothes from Kat because they just kept on at me, ‘pretending’ to be a boy. Mum found it a bit wearing too.”

“Couldn’t she have put them right?” said Maddy whilst thinking, shouldn’t she?

“You know Mum, she tried but decided it was easier for both of us if we treated it as a joke.”

“I don’t see you laughing too loudly,” said Maddy putting an arm around Drew’s slender shoulders.

“Is there a problem ladies?” asked a tall young man in an officer’s uniform.

“No, my friend’s missing her kitten,” said Maddy smiling at the man.

“Oh sorry about that, hope it will be okay,” the man replied blushing slightly, “Anything we can do to help, Miss?” This time he spoke directly to Drew.

“No, it’s okay thank you; we left her with my grandmother so I’m sure she’ll be fine.” Drew blushed wondering if would be easier to jump overboard than face these embarrassing situations all the time.

“Right then girls, I’ll leave you in peace, enjoy your trip.” He strolled on to speak to another passenger.

“See what I mean?” said Drew through clenched teeth. Then after waiting for Maddy to stop smirking added, “What the heck was that about a kitten?”

“I had to say something, next time I’ll leave you to flounder on your own,” pouted Maddy.

“Okay; I’m sorry; you saved the day again.”

“Just an everyday thing for Super Mad.”

“Be careful how you say that, people might think it’s a diagnosis.” Now it was Drew’s turn to chuckle as Maddy frowned trying to work out what he was on about. When she did she frowned even more and poked him on the arm.

“Super Mad,” repeated Drew and chuckled to himself. Maddy retaliated by hitting him on the arm again.

“Ouch!” he said, “I thought girls were supposed to be less violent than boys.”

“That was before emancipation,” said Maddy smiling broadly at him.

“I thought that was something you put on a cake before the icing.”

Maddy giggled for several seconds before saying, with some difficulty due to laughing, “That’s marzipan you nit.”

“Oh,” Drew looked back out to sea, “Good job I didn’t take up confectioning then, or you might have ended up with icing on top of mancipan, or whatever you said.”

“Marzipan is the cake thingy, made from almond paste; emancipation means accepted as equal, you know the suffragettes an’ all that.”

“You and your feminism,” said Drew refusing eye contact.

“Look here, Gaby Bond,” Maddy’s loud tone attracted the attention of several passengers. She shrugged her shoulders and mouthed, ‘sisters!’.

“I thought we were leaving Gaby behind,” Drew’s tone was muted and desultory.

“Without plastic surgery, that isn’t gonna be possible.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Drew knew exactly what she meant and in his heart of hearts, agreed with her, but he had to put up a token resistance.

“You know perfectly well what I mean, so stop being so prissy about it and just accept it.”

“I’m not sure I want to manicipate Gaby.”

“The sooner you do, and the word is emancipate, the quicker you can get on with life.”

“I thought I was getting on alright, I mean I’ve been invited to the Isle of Man for a race. Who else do you know who’s had the same invite?”

“There’s more to life than riding a bloody bicycle.”

“For you maybe, for me it’s important.”

“I know that, Gabs, an’ I know it’s important for Jenny too, but for us lesser mortals it’s about mixing and making friends, having relationships and getting jobs or goin’ to uni.”

“But I do mix an’ I got the gang as friends; then there’s all the people I know through the bike club and races.”

“But who is your boy or girlfriend?”

“You are silly!” Drew looked taken aback at this question.

“Am I? I’m your cousin an’ much as I love you I dunno if I wanna be your girlfriend, y’know like ‘Creepy Chloe’.” Maddy referred to a girl in her class who claimed to be gay and fancy other girls. None of them would go in the showers if she was about and few would dare be seen even talking to her, they all thought she was creepy or too sad to be near. “Hey, maybe that would be the answer to both your problems, go out with Creepy.”

“Very funny not. Why are you being so nasty to me?” Drew sniffed back the tear as he again looked out to sea.

“I’m only joking, come ‘ere, gi’s a hug,” she held her arms out to him.

“I’m feeling cold, I’m going back down,” Drew ignored her open arms and disappeared down the stairs.

“Oh!” said Maddy pouting to herself while she decided if she would follow or not.

Drew sat down alongside Dave who was snoozing in his chair. He pulled out the invitation letter to check where they had to go.

Dear Drew,

The Manx Road Club is holding an invitation race on the 25 June, being a Junior National Champion, we’d like you to come and compete……

The usual formalities were included and he knew they had a place reserved in a hotel in Douglas. He re-read them for something to do, while wondering if he could manage to get another shirt before the race. He was about to put the letter back into its envelope when he noticed the address on the front.

Ms Drew Bond.

They thought he was a girl, just like everyone else. He felt a mixture of emotions; first came irritation which quickly became anger; next came shock and hurt. He was boy dammit, why did everyone want to make him a girl? He was annoyed with himself for not noticing earlier, he’d assumed it said, ‘Mr.’ not ‘Ms.’ He was always rushing into things and being caught because he didn’t look carefully enough. Dave was always warning him to look at the small print, but he whooshed past and got into trouble too often to count.

If only he’d spotted it before, he’d have said something. Now it was a bit late. Maybe Maddy was right, maybe he had to accept he was as much girl as boy, perhaps even more so. He felt his eyes well up with tears and he closed them and tried to sleep like his father; except his mind was whirling around and he felt life was treating him so unfairly.

It would be another two hours before they docked; he wondered how he was going to tell his father that he’d goofed again. He knew Dad would understand, he always did. He leant against his sleeping father, who lifted his arm around his son, mumbling something about Jenny. Drew cuddled up closer to his father and tried to relax.

He became aware of the smell of antiperspirant and the general smell he associated with his dad; a mixture of soap, deodorant and a bit of sweat and body odour. It made him feel secure, reminded him of when he was younger and he’d creep into bed with his parents. He used to think they didn’t know he was there but they always did because he’d wake up back in his own bed.

When he snuggled into their bed, behind his father’s back, he’d be aware of how warm the bed was compared to his own, and the mixture of smells, the perfumes of his mother and the soap and body smells of his dad. For some reason he liked the smells of his dad more than the perfumes of his mother, they gave him a greater sense of security. After all, he was in bed with them because he was scared, of what he didn’t know, but being with his dad made him feel safe. Like it did now.

He could remember the way he crept out of bed feeling the cold of the air. Everything was in darkness and he could just make out the doorway by the glimmer of light from the street lamps. Whatever it was that frightened him, he was prepared to brave to get to his parents room. He trod carefully avoiding the creaky board in the middle of the landing, keeping close to the wall slipping his way along fingers feeling for the doorway of their room. Then ducking into the doorway, they always left the door open, and crawling silently over the carpet until he felt Dave’s slippers and he knew he was at the bedside. Then slip under the covers and safety.

He woke up some while later, his neck was stiff from leaning across the seat and Dave was rubbing his arm, which had ‘gone to sleep’ and was now awakening with pins and needles in his hand.

“You’re a bit big to be cuddling with me, aren’t you?” he said quietly to Drew.

“I’m sorry Daddy, I didn’t think you’d mind,” Drew felt a lump in his throat at his father’s mild chastisement.

Dave gave him a funny look then did a double take at the shoes. “I didn’t know Gaby was coming on this trip,” he said with a hint of resignation.

“Have a look at the invitation,” Drew passed him the envelope, which Dave opened and began to read the letter. “No look at the envelope,” advised Drew.

“Oh!” Dave looked again at the letter, “When did you notice that?”

“When I sat down just now.”

“Have you changed then?”

“No, I erm, sort of dressed in a hurry this morning,” blushed the wunderkind.

Dave shook his head in astonishment; it would be unbelievable except he had seen Drew make such mistakes before. It was nothing for him to have odd socks or even odd shoes, shirts inside out and various other mistakes. He came to the conclusion that his son was either in a semi trance half his life or just so absent minded it was untrue.

“Those Gaby’s jeans as well?”

“Erm, not exactly,” Drew blushed even more deeply.

“Well?”

“They’re Jules’, they were on my pile and I didn’t notice.”

“What are we going to do with you?”

“Dunno, take me back and swap me for a new model?” Drew caught Dave’s gaze and feeling embarrassed looked away. His eyes filled with tears and he tried to stifle them, but it was too late and a rivulet of salty fluid ran down his cheek.

“You silly goose, come here;” said Dave offering a hug.

Drew didn’t need a second telling, he grabbed his father around the waist and felt the powerful arms of safety wrap around him while he sobbed silently against his father’s breast.

“Do you still want to do this race?”

“Uh huh,” came the muted response.

“You don’t have to.”

“I know.”

“We can go home instead.”

“You wanted to see some of the archaeology,” said the faint voice.

“It’s been there some years; doubtless it would wait a bit longer for me.”

“No, I’ll be all right.”

“Okay, c’mon, let’s get a bit of fresh air. Where’s Maddy?”

They walked up to the sun deck although the fresh wind coming off the Irish sea meant no one was really sun bathing. Maddy was sat on a seat in the corner reading a book, her MP3 player making her oblivious to the approach of the two Bonds.

“Good book?” said Dave and Maddy gave a slight gasp and involuntary start.

“Ooh, Uncle Dave, you made me jump. Hi Gabs, feeling better now?”

Drew smiled at her and nodded from under Dave’s protective arm. Things weren’t okay, but he’d have to do the best he could. He was a boy, who wanted to be a boy but the rest of the universe, his body included, seemed intent on ignoring it and treating him like a girl. He wrapped his arm around Dave’s waist and felt his father’s arm squeeze him in reply. Some things about being a girl were nice, so maybe it wasn’t all bad news.

“How about a cuppa and a bite to eat?” said Dave feeling an attack of the munchies.

“ ‘Kay,” said Maddy rising from her seat and after marking her page, put the book in the shoulder bag she was carrying.

“Is that okay with you, Gaby?” asked Dave quietly to the figure still hugging his waist.

“Yeah, s’pose so,” Drew wasn’t sure if he was hungry or not. He’d noticed recently that when he felt stressed his appetite reduced to virtually nothing. He felt a bit stressed now, although it was nothing new and he knew they’d get through it somehow. He knew he could always count on his dad and Maddy to help him out and in return he’d do anything for them.

“You gonna put some makeup on and your earrings?” said Maddy as they went down the stairs to the cafeteria.

“After I’ve had a cuppa, I might;” he gave back to her trying to assert some form of independence.

The smell of toast and coffee affected all three of them, but when Drew got wind of the bacon grilling, he knew he had to have a bacon sarnie or die from the yearning. Batting his eyelashes and holding on to his arm worked a treat and Dave shook his head as he recognised he’d been had again.

They docked at Douglas an hour later and not too long after that they were on their way to the hotel that had been reserved for them. Signing in had Dave in a quandary however.

“We’ve only one room for you Mr. Bond, a family room with three single beds. We’re very busy at this time of year.”

“I appreciate that;” said Dave, “But I can’t share with two young women, what about undressing and things, it just wouldn’t be right?”

“You do have an en-suite with separate toilet and shower,” replied the young woman receptionist maintaining a smile that didn’t match her irritation. Bloody tourists; she thought, why can’t they sort these things out before they arrive?

“We’ll be okay, Daddy,” said Drew trying to defuse the situation.

“Yeah, we’ll cope, Uncle Dave;” added Maddy realising that Dave would be far more embarrassed than she was and she began to giggle. The infection spread to Drew and the receptionist led Dave and two giggling teens up to their room.

“We were told you had facilities for safe storage of a bike?” said Dave as they placed their bags down.

“Yes of course, you’re here for a bike race which makes a change from the motorbikes. Round the back at the car park is a bike locker which will take up to three bikes, I think another cyclist is staying here as well. The key is kept in reception which we like you to return when you’ve finished storing or collecting your bike.”

“Hear that you two?” said Dave to the now post-giggle exhausted teenagers. They nodded a reply; too weak to talk, then they looked at each other and went off again into giggledom. Dave completely at a loss to explain adolescent behaviour, especially of the female variety, shook his head and followed the receptionist back down stairs to sort out the car parking and bike storage.

When he returned to the room Drew was boiling the kettle and putting tea bags in cups. He glanced at Dave who nodded his assent to a cup of tea. Maddy was hanging up clothes in the wardrobe and Dave sighed silently to himself, relieved that they were now acting like sub-adults not children.

“Do we know who else is racing?” asked Dave a little concerned that Drew would be registered as a girl and what sort of prizes there would be. He worried about the legal situation and the consequences if the ’deception’ were ever discovered.

“Dunno yet,” Drew sat on the bed with his tea, “if they invited me, then they’ll probably have some regional champions.”

“Is it a mixed race?” continued Dave trying to sort out contingency plans in his head.

“Dunno, s’pose so if they invited me as a girl,” said Drew in between sips of tea. “Nice tea,” he added taking another sip.

Dave looked at the empty wrapper of the teabag, “Yorkshire tea, we sometimes get this in the office; yeah, it’s okay.”

“Why don’t we have Nottinghamshire tea then?” asked Maddy.

“We do;” chuckled Drew.

“I’ve never seen it,” declared Dave.

“Never heard of Notts Coun-tea!” chuckled Drew, nearly spilling his own cup as he laughed at his own joke. [Notts County is a local football team]

“Oh God, Gabs, that is scrapin’ the barrel;” squeaked Maddy in protest.

“Can we get some fresh milk, Dad, this long life stuff tastes a bit?”

“Nowhere to keep it kiddo.”

“Yes there is, there’s a minibar and there’s just about room to squeeze in a pint of cow juice.” Drew got up to show his father and they agreed a carton of milk would just about squeeze in.

“Well, in case we needed them, I brought some emergency supplies of Typhoo,” Dave brandished a plastic container of tea bags from his case. “With three of us using them we could run out.”

They went for stroll along the front at Douglas amused by the horse drawn tram and at the other end of the promenade, an electric train or tram. After a quick snack they wandered back via the shops where Dave left the two ‘girls’ and he walked back to check over Drew’s bike.

As he got his tool box out from his car and clamped the bike in his portable workshop stand, he wondered why Drew had brought the Specialized, a woman’s bike, if he hadn’t realised how he had been invited to the race. Why didn’t he bring his Tifosi, a man’s bike? Admittedly, there didn’t seem to be an awful difference between them with the Campag wheel and crank set although the Tifosi was slightly larger in the frame. Women’s bikes have shorter crossbars and usually smaller handlebars, so maybe that was why Drew, or today Gaby, favoured the American bike. Dave thought he’d have to ask Drew, no Gaby, he corrected himself.

Dave was still checking the bike when the two shoppers arrived back. “Buy me anything?” he joked with the two.

“Yes, Daddy,” squealed Drew holding a small gift shop bag and waving it tantalisingly close to his father.

“Oh!” said Dave genuinely surprised. He took the gift embarrassedly from his offspring, “Thanks,” he said blushing. He peeled open the bag and inside was a keyring with fob showing a triskele, the three legged symbol of the island. “How did you know I needed a new key fob?” he asked.

“When I got my bag from the car I noticed it was on its last legs, so I saw this one and got it for you,” Drew smiled at his dad.

Dave walked up and kissed Drew on the cheek, “Just what I wanted, thank you daughter.”

“You’re welcome father,” quipped Drew. Then he said, “Maddy bought a lovely scarf, show him Mad,” he urged his cousin.

Maddy dug in her bag and pulled out an exquisite multicoloured silk scarf.

“Is that all you bought, Maddy?” Dave was surprised at his ‘niece’s’ restraint.

“Nah, I like bought a new top an’ skirt too and Gabs bought a pair of shoes.”

“Shoes?” said Dave shaking his head, “How many pairs can you possibly wear, Gaby?”

“A girl can’t have too many shoes!” exclaimed both teens in unison.

“That’s what your mother always says, I’m not sure I believe it. Sometimes I wonder if it’s some sort of sex-linked addiction that afflicts females,” groaned Dave.

Drew pulled out one of the shoes from the bag, it was a red court shoe with a three inch stiletto heel.

Dave was surprised and wondered how wise such a purchase was. “You going to be able to walk in those things?” he asked trying not to be too overbearing.

“Course,” Drew said and slipped them on and strutted around the car park.

Dave was now shocked and registered his surprise by exclaiming, “Well I don’t know what your mother’s going to say when she sees them.”

“She’s got a pair the same, only these were half price in the sale.” Drew practically poked his tongue out as his father and called ‘so there’, but he didn’t. He respected his dad and such a display of disrespect would have hurt his father’s feelings.

“Your mother is fully grown and therefore less likely to damage her feet in shoes. You young lady are not, so just be careful.”

“Yes, Daddy I will; they feel quite comfortable, honestly.”

“Okay, you can wear them tonight when we go out for dinner.”

“Better tell him about the dress too, Gabs,” Maddy nudged her cousin.

Drew blushed and told Dave he’d bought a summer dress in red with a dainty abstract pattern all over it.

“Is it suitable for dinner tonight?” asked Dave.

“I think so,” said Drew looking at Maddy who nodded approval.

“Okay, well then wear it tonight; okay?” Dave looked at his watch, “It’s nearly six, you two had better get started, I’ll be up in half an hour and will need a shower. Go on then.”

He carried on tweaking the brake cables while shaking his head at the memory of his son strutting about the car park in red stiletto shoes and walking like a model on a cat walk. Some days things were just too much to think about. He returned to the safety of the mechanics of the side pull brakes.

“Are you decent?” called Dave as he entered the hotel room.

“Course we are,” came the response.

He ducked into the bathroom and took his shower, the warm water relaxed him before he dealt with the vision of two Lolitas waiting for him. He dried himself off and with a towel wrapped around his waist he went into the bedroom where Maddy and Drew were sat on the end of the bed watching television, their backs towards him. He grabbed his clothes and returned to the bathroom to dress.

He felt quite smart in his cream checked shirt and beige hopsack trousers with his black slip on shoes and thus walked into the room.

“Mmmm you look smart, Uncle Dave,” Maddy complimented him as he arrived.

Turning round Drew beamed a smile at him, “Is that the shirt I got you for Christmas?” Dave nodded, and Drew added, “Ace.”

“Well let’s see my two escorts then,” he challenged the girls.

They both stood up and walked towards him. Maddy led the way wearing a pale green skirt and matching top, the latter having a sweetheart neckline. Then Drew emerged in his best Gaby mode. He wore the red dress which Dave had not appreciated was cap sleeved and vee necked, the vee showing a bit more cleavage than he realised Drew had. He knew some of these modern bras enabled wonderful illusions of décolletage, but this was breath-takingly enhanced by the narrow waistline and seeming broad hips of the dress.

“Wow,” said Dave momentarily lost for words, “You two both look like princesses, beautiful princesses.” Whereupon they both curtseyed to him in such perfect unison, it was obviously practiced. He shook his head and laughed.

They walked to the restaurant along the promenade. Maddy was wearing a similar pair of heels in black, and the two girl’s shoes clicked along as they walked, each holding on to one of Dave’s arms. He’d made reservations at a place about a quarter of a mile away and he wondered if Drew would cope with the heels. Much to his surprise, both of his escorts seemed to be walking without a problem in the shoes. Maybe he’d underestimated them.

They ate fresh fish, landed that morning the waiter assured them; nearly losing much of his tip staring down the dresses of the girls as he served their meals. Dave was irritated and conveyed it in his angry glance, whereupon the waiter behaved himself thereafter,

However, Maddy and to some extent Drew, quite enjoyed the momentary flirtation as young women do, but blushed when they saw Dave’s annoyance. They both realised then that ‘not in front of your parents’ probably applied.

Towards the end of the stroll back, Drew began to walk less sprightly and by the time they were back in the room, he was struggling. It transpired he’d rubbed blisters on both little toes, not having worn any hose beneath the shoes. The next morning the toes were very tender, especially in his cycling shoes.

Dave put some antiseptic on the offending toes and wrapped them up with plasters. They were still very tender but Drew said he’d manage. Dave also had to bite his tongue and not say, ‘I told you so’.

The race was due to start at eleven and incorporated the thirty seven miles of the road TT (Tourist Trophy) track used by the motor bikes. It was well within Drew’s range for distance with a couple of climbs, the worst being around the eastern half of the route where it snakes up part of Snaefell, the highest point on the island and over a thousand feet at the summit. However, they weren’t going to the top but past a place called the Bungalow.

At eight, with three hours to go, Drew was still limping around in pain with his cycle shoes. He also realised he’d left his champion’s shirt behind, but then today he didn’t feel he would do so well so was happy not to advertise his past triumphs.

The practice ride along the promenade and up a bit of one of the hills went reasonably well, except for the pain in his feet. His toes felt on fire. Dave sent Maddy down to the local pharmacy for a cooling spray. Her toes were okay and she couldn’t understand why Drew’s were so sore. She’d examined his shoes and there were no rough patches or seams to rub, so it didn’t make any sense to her.

“Well old girl, are you riding or do you want to scratch through injury?” Dave said to Drew.

“They want me to race,” protested Drew.

“Gaby, I don’t care if they want you to marry them, all I need to hear is how you feel and what you want to do.”

“I’m sure I’ll cope.”

“You don’t sound too sure, there’s no disgrace in withdrawing if you’re not fit.
I’ll break a couple of spokes for you, if you want, withdraw on a technical point.”

“Daddy, I can’t I’m a Bond, we don’t withdraw unless we have to. If you were in my position you’d try for it, so would Mum. I’m expected to be there.”

“I just don’t want you to record a bad time and lose any of the kudos you’ve so diligently built up; neither do I want to see you hurt, kiddo, and racing when not fully fit can cause further injuries.”

“Thanks for the concern, Dad, but I came here to ride and that’s what I’m gonna do.”

“My hero, Super-gob, I mean Gab,” giggled Maddy.

“What?” said Dave not quite catching Maddy’s joke.

“Touche,” offered a frowning Drew.

The freezing spray helped a little as they made their way up to the start line, where the rows of tiered seating was still there from the motorbike races. Dave noted the large cemetery behind and thought of its proximity and the dangers of motorbike racing.

They booked in and the bike passed the examination with no problem. Drew was riding as an individual, although there were one or two teams judging by the identical shirts certain individuals were wearing.

“So what is it, Drew or Gaby?” asked the race official who was booking in the riders.

“Gaby,” offered our hero, deciding that to enter under his alias would perhaps protect his champion’s reputation if he finished well down the field or had to withdraw during the race.

“Hey I know you!” called one young rider and rode up to Drew. “You’re Jenny Bond’s daughter.”

“Guilty,” said Drew.

“So you gonna give me another lesson in racing?”

“I don’t think so, I’m carrying an injury.”

“So why don’t you withdraw?”

“It’ll slow me down not stop me altogether.”

“So the rest of us might have a chance then?”

“You always have had. I’m not unbeatable, just difficult,” smiled Drew at the boy.

“Oh, I’m Phil Crouch, from Norfolk.”

“I recognise that name, from the under sixteen’s county championship. You won it. Saw it in the comic.”

“Wow, not just a pretty ars..face,” corrected Crouch.

“I beg your pardon,” said Drew.

“Well the last time we met, all I saw of you was your bum and that was flashing up a hill like a rocket. Carry on like that and you could be better than your ma.”

“So who you riding with?” asked Drew.

“By meself, why wanna make up a team?”

“If we could find a couple more, it might give some of the others something to think about, and if I can’t win, I might be able to help someone else make it.”

“Or they help you, Gaby girl, like the shirt by the way.”

“Oh this old thing,” said Drew in as camp a fashion as he could, “I didn’t have anything else to wear darlings.” In response Phil Crouch nearly fell off his bike laughing. They chatted for a few minutes more and then began to look for any familiar faces, finding three others.

“We’re gonna be up against about four teams by the look of it, how about we try to make our own, towards the end the best placed one gets support to go for it. We might get a podium that way.”

“This just to give you a better chance, Ms Bond?” said a lanky lad from Lancashire.

“No, let’s face it I’m the youngest here and I’m carrying an injury. I probably have the least chance.”

“Since when has being a girl counted as an injury?” said the lanky one.

“All right, I injured both my feet the other night and they hurt.”

“Honest?”

“Honestly. If I’m in with a shout, I’ll go for it but I think it’s pretty remote.”

“What about tactics?” asked another, “You Bonds are pretty good at that.”

So they spent the remaining ten minutes talking quietly about a plan for the race and thoughts on the course.”

“So are we all up for it?” asked Phil.

“Yeah why not, with rocket woman we might have a chance.”

“Look, I’m not on my best form, I keep telling you,” protested Gaby.

“Yeah, yeah, heard that before.”

“That’s not the bike you were riding on the telly, is it? ‘Cos that was a Specialized too.”

Blushing, Drew shook his head, “Nah, that one got rather broken. But these are the gears from it.” Drew beamed.

“Campags, nice.”

“Noisy but nice,” joked Drew.

Moments later they were called to assemble for the off.

The relatively flat start soon gave way to lots of ups and downs, some quite steep. The Isle of Man, in cyclist speak is ‘a bit lumpy’, meaning it has lots of hills and gradients which of course make the cycling interesting to say the least. Someone like Drew, a natural hill climber, could be well suited to such a terrain, but he was not feeling at his best and beside his sore toes was full of self doubt.

His Gaby status was accepted by one and all, which was a minor relief but his problem was being accepted as a boy not a girl. Sometimes he imagined he felt like some female to male transgendered people must feel, the inner boy being hidden by the blossoming female characteristics. However, this was not a subject on his mind once the race had started, then he was single minded.

Soon after the part of Douglas called Quarter Bridge, turning sharp right they climbed up towards Union Mills along the A1 westwards toward Peel. Drew felt quite comfortable and was loosening up nicely. His scratch team was staying more or less together in a field of fifty or so riders, all sixteen years or under. His remark about being the youngest rider wasn’t far off the truth and he was going to be tested to stay with the older stronger riders, some of whom had ridden the course before.

In his preparation, he’d poured over the Ordnance Survey map with Dave, so they had a reasonable feel for the topography. He’d also managed to get some videos of the TT races, which gave him another perspective. Sadly they hadn’t had time to run over the course in the car, which they’d planned, due to his foot problem. Once more life had got in the way of his plans.

Drew had inherited his father’s ability to hold a map in his memory, something his mother did reasonably well too, so he felt moderately confident he’d know where the best places to attack would come. For him that meant on gradients, then his light weight and reasonable strength would give him the advantage over bigger and heavier opponents.

The team were lying about midway down the field watching him for instructions; he took the responsibility naturally as a born team leader. Most of the riders would only have the rudiments of race strategy, a fact he was counting on like his better than average muscle to body mass ratio. He would be outgunned for strength and probably out-sprinted by the older stronger boys, so he needed to break them or out-smart them. His plan was to try a bit of both.

As they rode he saw that there were about ten girls riding as well as himself, so he could be in for the best female rider if he couldn’t win the race outright. It wouldn’t be quite true, but he resolved his deception by blaming his hormones or genes or something, for making him more female than he wished to be.

Some six kilometres later after some moderate ‘lumps’ they turned right at Ballacraine, a short distance before the Tynwald Hill, the site of one of the oldest parliaments in the world, dating back to medieval times and the Viking occupation.

From here, Drew knew they had some climbing to do and he gave the signal for his team to move forward. They did. They followed the valley for a few more kilometres, moving forward surreptitiously so by the time they hit the first climb at Barregarrow they were in the first twenty and still together. From Kirk Michael they were skirting around the coastal plain of the north of the island and the pace would now increase as the big boys pushed on.

Along the Sulby Straight where TT racers reach speeds of 200mph and more, the cyclists were holding a rate of twenty five miles per hour, nothing special but they were only half way around.

Suddenly, a group of four of the older lads stepped up the pace and began to break away. Drew’s toes were hurting him, but he ignored the pain and signalled to his team to try and stay with the break-aways or lose out.

On past Sulby and on eastwards to Ramsey sped the group of perhaps ten; the four original, bigger boys, Drew and two of his team, plus three others who were struggling to keep the pace. Apart from his toes Drew was nearly comfortable but he hung on knowing that with the big climbs to come the pace had to slow.

Before they entered Ramsey and a up the hill, the pace had slowed back to twenty and even some of the bigger lads were blowing hard. Drew finished his second bottle of drink and shoved the empty back into the pocket of his shirt. He learned the hard way, that one needs to keep hydrated and eat during a race to keep the body working and the energy flowing. He had two energy bars at the start, he’d eaten one.

The road south from Ramsey snakes and climbs and Drew signalled again they pushed to break up the ‘four musketeers’ as he’d named them. He was pleased to see they could. Now there were two of the bigger boys in front, another who didn’t seem to be affiliated to anyone and Phil who were in front of him. That suited Drew fine and they held those positions as they began the real climb of the day, towards the centre of the island and Snaefell.

The pace dropped dramatically as the gradient gripped them and the air was filled with the puffing of lungs and the click of gears changing down to try and cope with the pull of gravity.

Half way up the mountain Drew attacked. He’d warned his friends he would go for the hill climb so they had been expecting it for some time. He knew the older boys would catch him on the downhill or the flat, so he had to go for it.

In Lance Armstrong fashion he stood on his pedals and began to accelerate catching the three ‘hostiles’ by surprise and taking Phil and Lancashire lad with him. He poured on the pressure, knowing he could do this for a couple of miles before he’d blow up. A glance behind him showed that he and Phil were some hundred yards clear and getting further ahead with each painful stroke of the crank.

A half mile later, sweating profusely Phil blew up and Drew knew he was on his own and worse, one of the big boys had got a second wind. Drew eased down for a short time allowed the ‘musketeer’ to come within about a hundred yards, then dropped a cog and sped off again, climbing at half as fast again as he had previously. It did the trick and by the time he passed Bungalow Bridge, he was about three hundred yards ahead and going strong.

Now he clicked up the gears as he began a partial descent, he’d wanted a bigger lead but was having to make do with what he had. His toes were screaming but he kept pedalling, “it’s only pain” he told himself, “ride through it.”

Reaching speeds in excess of thirty five miles an hour he began the main descent and within minutes watched his computer register forty five then fifty. He knew the big lad was gaining on him, and he pedalled furiously as they headed towards Douglas and the race end.

As they closed in on the town; the crowd was cheering and screaming; the women wanting Gaby to win; the first girl to do so, if she could pull it off.

About half a mile to go the bigger boy had drawn level and looked fresher, Drew was struggling having given his all on the mountain. He needed a miracle and got one.

As they sped down the middle of the road, Drew noticed a rougher road surface to his right, the side his opponent had taken. Drew put on a last gasp spurt and forced his rival into the rougher road, where a small pot hole punctured his tyre enough to slow him a fraction.

It was enough. As his opponent’s rear tyre deflated, Drew just managed to pull ahead, winning the race by a length and some minute fraction of a second. The roar from the grandstand was deafening as he passed the finish line and raised his arms in salute.

A few minutes later, he’d slowed down and made for Dave and Maddy who were rushing to greet him. Dave caught him just as everything went black again and he slumped from his bike.

Once again, he awoke in the back of an ambulance oxygen mask over his face. “It’s okay love, you’re gonna be okay!” said the paramedic. “Your blood sugar dropped very low which is why you zonked.”

Drew reached behind and felt the mangled remains of his second energy bar scrunched up in the back pocket of his shirt. He’d forgotten to eat it. They gave him a glucose drink and within fifteen minutes he could stand and walk around. His toes still hurt, but he’d cope with that.

The presentation on the podium was a riot; the press were all over the riders. Gaby was the youngest rider to win the race and the first girl. When ‘she’ received the trophy from the Mayor of Douglas, the crowd went wild.

Second was a promising home grown rider, who returned a personal best chasing the wunderkind, and who after shaking hands and a quick hug with Gaby, kissed ‘her’ on the cheek to loud applause.

But perhaps Drew’s day was made by the fact that Phil got third place, something that was beyond his wildest expectations. After he got his medal, he hugged Gaby and kissed her several times, tears flowing as he gasped, “If you hadn’t broken them on that bloody mountain, I’d have been left behind. I still watched your beautiful bum speed ahead of me, but I loved every moment of it. Thank you so much.” With that, he kissed her again.

The rest of the week, Drew spent resting his toes and being invited out with Dave and Maddy to dinners and lunches by various local worthies. His pleas of not having anything to wear for such things bringing about the presentation of two outfits for him and one for Maddy from the biggest department store in Douglas, which the owners used in their advertising.

The phone calls from Jenny, Matt and Harry made him feel a bit more special, and the article in CW, which featuring the race asked in it’s headline, “Have we watched the emergence of the youngest potential world champion in the history of cycling?” and went on to detail how Gaby was looking even better than her mother and were she a boy, Lance Armstrong could be feeling the pressure soon.

So while Dave went on invited tours of archaeological sites, Maddy and Gaby were invited to meet with women’s groups and to speak to the local women’s cycling team. But that is another tale for another day.

The End.