Easy As Hanging Off A Cliff,
by Bonzi Kiddle
part:293

Simon went to sleep with a smile on his face, I don't know about ravish, maybe I misheard him, he might have said radish. Anyway, while it's all vege-talk, he had his oats, and they weren't Scott's Porridge variety.

Me, it saved me dilating and was less painful than last time, I really must try and make time to poke the plastic on a regular basis. By the time I'd got back from the bathroom, Simon had zonked, I of course was wide awake, a wet flannel between your legs, tends to wake you up, or it does me. Still, there was no blood this time and he was very gentle and caring to me. I shouldn't complain, but at the minute I'm not getting much out of it except discomfort. Hopefully that will improve, if I keep prodding.

Tom had phoned to say he'd been to see Stella and they'd allowed him to take her out for a ride in his Landrover. They'd apparently gone out for a cream tea, which they'd both enjoyed. Sometimes I think he's sort of adopted all three of us.

The undertaker had left a message on the ansafone about the funeral, which was next week. I knew that Simon couldn't stay that long, but I felt I had to do some clearing of the house, even if I had to keep it on for two years. The solicitor would deal with the probate for the will, which he thought was pretty straightforward, it was me who wasn't.

The next morning after a poor night's sleep, I awoke to find Simon missing again. I hoped he was making some tea, I prised open an eyelid and the clock read seven. That was an hour later than he usually got, so he's probably quite enjoying himself.

I managed to get myself out of bed and into the loo, I was still sore and had a quick bath, which I was still running, when Simon materialised with my tea. That was pure opulence, soaking in the bath drinking a cuppa. It would have been bliss, except the warm water reminded me I was sore somewhere, so no bike riding this morning!

Simon grumbled because the bath wasn't big enough for two, certainly not two his size. He isn't fat, well actually he's no longer as slim as he was, but he's broad across the shoulders. I wondered if there'd be room for one his size.

He had a shower when my bath got cold and I was forced to get out, all white and wrinkled. He did rub some cream on my back for me, so I shouldn't complain, it was actually quite nice, if you know what I mean. Had I not been so tender, we may have had to delay the morning's business by an hour or so. As it was, we didn't, but I did drop hints that I enjoyed being massaged with moisturiser. So I'll have to wait and see if they were taken on board, probably not, but a girl can only try.

After brekkies, we set off for the bank, which was a High St one. Maybe having Simon around was an advantage. I had my driving licence plus a host of other bits of paper, including the 'power of attorney' bit.

We asked to see the manager who was not available, instead seeing the snotty creep who'd met me at the hospital, as soon as he recognised me his manner changed. I felt a power surge, when he recognised who Simon was, the manager became suddenly available. This was a new bloke, apparently the previous one took early retirement on medical grounds.

Once the manager looked into the matter, it appeared my father had set it up for me to be able to access the box, with nothing more than some ID. When I thought about it, I realised my dad was actually very organised, pity I didn't inherit the ability, it would save me so much time.

We were led down to the vault and several doors were opened before we were left in a room where they brought the box and laid it on a table. I was to call when I wanted to be released.

I handed Simon the key and he opened the box with one turn. Inside were several things including a manilla envelope which had, 'Please read this first,' written on it in red felt pen.

I opened the envelope with Simon's penknife and inside was a letter from my father.

'Dear C,

Sorry I don't know what you are calling yourself these days. In a small box you will find some items your mother bought for you before you were born. She was convinced she was having a girl, maybe she was right eventually. I wanted to dispose of them because as far as I then knew we had a son. She wouldn't let me, supposedly in case you had a daughter, in which case they could have been passed on to her.

From what I understand, that is unlikely, so we agreed that you should have these bits and pieces. None is very valuable, except some of your grandmother's jewellery, which your mother wouldn't wear because she didn't like it.

She was going to call you Charlotte if you'd been a girl at birth, hence you being called Charles. She was convinced, she really was. In the attic there is a box of linen including a christening dress which you might have worn had we known what we do now.

As you know neither of us are very happy about it, and your mother keeps feeling because she so badly wanted a girl, that she caused you to be as you are. Either that or she saw it as a punishment for her hubris in buying girl's clothes and things, which are all up in the attic in a trunk, the key of which is in with the other items in the box.

I'm not sure when you will get this, if I'm dead then you've spoken with my solicitor or somehow happened on the first box under the floor.

I want you to know despite our difficulties, we do still love you and wish you well, even though we don't seem able to say it to your face. We don't understand and possibly never will, but you are still our child and we do try to see beyond your actions and love you.

Love,

Mum and Dad.'

The date was about a month before my mother died, I had to sniff back the tears. I showed the letter to Simon and while he read it, I began to examine the other contents.

In a cardboard box, about the size of a small shoe box, I found a silver christening bracelet and mug, both with 'Charlotte' engraved on them. There were some little silver hair combs and a locket and chain. My eyes were having so much difficulty not watering. If only, I felt my mind saying. The irony, also wasn't lost to me.

The final straw was a pair of baby shoes in soft white leather, obviously girl's ones, they'd never been used and I felt a tear run down my nose.

I showed them to Simon and he was astonished at how small they were, compared to his shovel like mitts, they were tiny.

There were some letters, which I would look at later at home, plus some old but serious jewellery boxes. I opened one and gasped, a triple rope of pearls, all the real McCoy. In another a diamond and gold bracelet and matching necklace. My grandmother's engagement ring, with a large saphire and several diamonds.

Simon looked at them and suggested we leave them in the safe until they could be valued and insured. I wasn't sure if I was ever likely to wear them, but as family treasures, I couldn't sell them. Then I thought, to whom would I leave them as I couldn't have kids. Then my mother's message came back to me about having lots of children. I wondered if that was just my imagination and wishful thinking.

In the end we took the baby stuff and the letters and left the valuable stuff behind. We rang the bell and after locking the box again, carried the papers and the shoe box out with us.

The manager approached us as we were about to leave, "Miss Watts or future Lady Cameron, if there is anything we can do to assist you, don't hesitate to ask. I notice you don't have an account with us, if you change your mind we would of course offer very preferential rates."

I thanked him and we left, Simon muttering something about, 'obsequious little toadie' as we did so. We locked my treasures into the boot of the car and set off for the pub on the Gloucester Road.

"So who was your grandmother, that was some serious jewellery?" he asked as we drove.

"It's a bit mysterious, I think that was actually stuff from my great grandmother. Her family apparently owned a distillery or two on Skye and of course when she met and married my great grandfather, as he was beneath her, she was disowned."

"So how come she got to keep her rocks?"

"She didn't, she died fairly young in childbirth, and my grandmother was given them by her grandmother after the funeral, apparently great great grandad was furious and tried to get them back. So they were always hidden or kept safe. I don't know what to do with them, because they don't seem to bring the owner any luck, do they?"

"Can't you get them sort of 'sterilised' by one of these psychics, they cleanse them, remove the previous energies or something."

"I don't know, I'm not sure of anything any more, except that I love you and Stella and Tom. Everything else is uncertain."

"You've just lost your dad, don't think too deeply about things right now, just go with the flow. I mean we don't have to meet this plonker if you don't want to. What do you call him?"

"Melvin, everyone in my school had a nickname."

"Everyone?"

"Pretty well, why." I blushed I knew what was coming.

"So what was yours then?"

"Until the arrow and my subsequent hospital visit," I blushed, "you don't really want to know do you?"

"Only for background, you know."

Oh shit! Why is it always me? Oh well. "Until I got shot in the hand, they used to call me Charlie Farley." I was blushing furiously.

"And after," he smiled.

Oh bugger, I paused. My face was burning with embarrassment as I blurted out, "Maid Marion."

"Why the embarrassment, I think it suits you, especially as she was dab hand with a bow by all accounts."

I still felt the embarrassment I experienced the day after the accident, when they all taunted me, thanks to John Bennett's mother. I glowed all over like an atomic pile.

We didn't say much else except me giving Simon directions to the pub. He drove the Golf into the car park.

"You don't have to do this." He said as we walked to the lounge bar.

"I need to lay some ghosts, after all, they all saw it on telly, so it shouldn't be a surprise, should it?"

"I have no idea." He grasped my hand and we walked in together. "Any messing about and I stop it. Okay!"

"Okay Simon, but don't make any scenes will you?"

"That will depend on them, and how many times I have to hit them before they lose consciouness."

I stopped, "You wouldn't, would you?"

"For you, I'd do almost anything. Including not beating the crap out of these two low lifes."

"We don't know that Simon, these were sort of friends of mine when I was a kid."

"Okay, I'll reserve judgement." He squeezed my hand and we went into the pub, not the most salubrious, but possibly more real than the plastic monstrosities they clone today.

I spotted Melvin, over in the corner with a pint in front of him. I waved and he waved back. I had deliberately gone for effect in my choice of clothing, wearing a tight plunge necked top under my designer suit. I was showing as much cleavage as I could scoop up in the tight enhancer bra. If you can't beat 'em, baffle em.

We walked up to Melvin, and I introduced him to Simon and so on. Simon asked if I wanted a drink, I opted for some white wine and soda.
He went to get it plus his own Guinness.

I went to sit down and Melvin who was standing, having just shaken hands with Si, helped me to sit down by moving the chair for me. I was quite touched. Maybe this wasn't going to be so awful afterwards.

"So what you doing then?" Asked Melvin, his eyes glued to my chest.

"Teaching and researching for a PhD at Portsmouth, helping with the EU mammal survey, you know."

"Wow, an' there's me workin' in a chip shop."

Simon arrived as he spoke, and as he sat down he said, "And the finest fish and chips I've had for many a day. The mushy peas were out of this world."

Maybe you should shoot them into orbit, went through my mind but I didn't say anything.

Melvin was still examining my chest, with his eyes anyway, said, "Yeah they are good. Wow, who'da thought Maid Marion would actually turn out to be Maid Marion! You look t'riffic."

"Well one thing won't change then will it, as I believe Maid Marion was an aristocrat, and Cathy, is about to become one." Simon sipped his drink after dropping the bombshell.

"You what?" gasped Melvin.

"Catherine is about to become the Lady Catherine Cameron of Stanebury."

"You what? Yer jokin' in'tcha?"

I blushed and nodded, "It's true, Mel."

"Bleedin' 'ell, well that's what they call a success, I suppose. You got a castle and all that?"

"An estate in Scotland yes, with a fortified manor house and a few thousand acres of grouse moor." Simon beamed his superiority over this peasant, he was in his element.

"Yer takin' the piss in ya?"

"No Melvin, it's even been on the telly." I sought to reassure him.

"I never watch it. Always workin' in the evenin's."

"How did you recognise me?" I asked him.

"There was something about you, the way you 'esitated at the chippy, then I seen the mark on yer 'and, and well I just blurted it out. I dunno really. Little Maid Marion, I just can't get over it."

"She shoots a mean arrow," said Simon making me blush again.

"What d'ya mean?"

"We were attacked by a group of mafia bandits and she shot three of them with her bow."

"What? Like for real? Wow, ace. Wait till Gordon gets here."

"Yes, she has a compound bow, that's right isn't it Cathy darling?"

What was Bennett coming for? If he took the piss I would slap him myself, he made me a very unhappy bunny after the arrow business. "What?" I said to Simon.

He repeated his query about the bow, I nodded distractedly. We sort of talked for a while waiting for Bennett to arrive but he didn't come. I made an excuse and went to the toilet, hoping it wasn't too smelly, it was actually well maintained and despite being old and well worn, was spotless. We would eat here after all.

Unbeknownst to me, John 'Gordon' Bennett had arrived as I went to the loo, he saw Melvin who introduced him to Simon and they shook hands. "Hey this place is looking up talentwise, I just saw a heavenly babe go to the bogs."

"In a blue suit?" asked Melvin.

"Yeah, blueish, flowery thing, why, you saw her too?"

"Oh yeah, we saw her too, that was Maid Marion."

"What you talkin' about, that was no tranny, that was a genuine angel."

"Excuse me Gordon, but Cathy is no tranny, she's all woman. Just so we understand ourselves." Simon spoke firmly but quietly.

"That was Charlie Watts?" he went pale as he sank into his chair.

"No Mr Bennett, that was my fiancee, Miss Catherine Watts," Simon smiled menacingly.

"Soon to be Lady, what was it again?" asked Melvin gleefully. He had called Bennett the previous evening and told him he'd seen me, and that I was wearing a skirt and makeup, but he'd still recognised me. Bennett, thus expected to see some caricature of womanhood, not what he actually got.

Melvin enjoyed embarrassing his friend in true puerile fashion, and so did I when I got back to the table, as you will see.