1 Novel Chapter 11

Ellie sat in disbelief at Beverly’s revelation.

“What! You actually couldn’t read or write! But how did you – I mean, you’re a millionaire, you own ships, you – “

Beverly smiled an ironic smile as she curled up on the kitchenette sofa with her legs tucked under her. Ellie finished making the tea then turned from the kitchenette bar with the tea tray in her hands and placed them on the little occasional table before sitting opposite her aunt and curling up in the wide arm-chair. Beverly stared at the floor as she confirmed what was perhaps one of the most devastating elements of her adolescent years.

“It’s true though. I was functionally illiterate I could neither read, nor write nor do maths. I could hardly count to twenty and I could only print my name in none-cursive script. I’ll come to how I eventually learned later. But at that time, in Mr Roberts’s office, I reached my lowest ebb and it broke me. My biggest weakness was exposed, my worst handicap. I felt stupid, vulnerable and worst of all terrified I’d lose my job. I lay curled up in the corner for several minutes and crying until eventually Mr Roberts just lifted me back into the chair and stared at me with embarrassment. It cannot have been easy for a thirty-year-old man to get so intimate with a fifteen-year-old sexual deviant. After lifting my head off the desk he shrugged helplessly and turned to the two ‘crows’."

‘Can either of you two ladies take it down if the boy dictates?’

"They wagged their heads stating they were recording officers for the courts and unable to constructively contribute to the hearings. They also pointed out that Mr Roberts was ineligible too because of his part in discovering the crimes. He was in fact a material witness and he had already written his account. He wagged his head and phoned up to the captain. After some discussion a solution was reached.

The same lady doctor from the inquiry, that is the port Health officer, was scheduled to take me up to the seaman’s clinic that afternoon for health checks. On being asked over the phone, she agreed to come down earlier and act as a scribe. She appeared within half an hour and we resumed the session. I sat beside her as she wrote down everything I said.

After about half an hour or so the two barristers, the ‘crows’ as I thought of them, started to separate as one went into the corridor then returned to relieve the other. I was suspicious about why they were doing this and they made me more nervous. I was already stressed enough but the doctor quickly picked up on my nervousness and stopped proceedings.

She had a chat with the ‘crows’ and discovered that they were severely upset by what they were hearing and they had to spell each other. The doctor and Mr Roberts had heard it all before so they were somewhat inured to it but it shows how low I’d sunk in that I hadn’t even thought my story abnormal. Here were two hardened barristers who must have heard awful things in court and yet my story reduced them to tears. The doctor explained all this to me and reassured me that nothing sinister was going on behind my back. Eventually the session was complete. All of them endorsed the statement and I signed it with my crude none-cursive printed name. Each of the adults looked askance with various expressions of – well, I don’t know what they really felt. Was it despair or sympathy, anger or disgust, or what? I couldn’t tell.

They were shocked I suppose that in nineteen-sixty-one, a fifteen-year-old British kid who they already knew to be quick-witted and able, was functionally illiterate.

Anyway the barristers took my statement and joined Mr Roberts with the doctor for lunch. The chief officer normally ate in the captain’s saloon so they joined him and Captain Mac while I joined the bosun and the carpenter in the petty officer’s mess. As I ate, the message came down that I was to clean myself up after lunch as I was going with the doctor to the seaman's clinic that afternoon.

And so it was, by three pm I was brought to the Gordon Smith Seaman’s Institute in Paradise Street. Basically, all they did was take samples of all my bodily fluids; blood, sputum, urine then they weighed me and ran a general health check over me before giving me yet another eye-sight test. Finally they took me back to the ship and I was in time for the early dinner the ship provided in port. This was around five thirty because there were no passengers. At sea, dinner was from six until eight to cater for the twelve passengers we carried. Firstly, as I always did, I served the petty officers their food then I filled my face with the remains from the galley and there was always plenty. The chief cook always saw to that and I was now eating well.

That night I did not go ashore but I joined the bosun in the petty-officers day room and confirmed to the bosun and the carpenter that I couldn’t read or write. Mr Roberts had obviously forewarned the bosun and, like Mr Roberts, he was also shocked. The very next day was a Saturday and therefore the heavy lift crane was idle. No cargo was being worked so the bosun personally took me up to the Seaman’s Mission and explained to the padre that I was illiterate. They didn’t have any books available to help me immediately for that second trip and we rejoined the ship no better off. However the bosun was determined to help me and it was during the third trip when we finally managed to get some suitable reading material from the seafarer’s education service. The Padre from the Flying Angel Seaman’s mission actually met the ship on its arrival back in Liverpool at the end of my second voyage and presented me with a whole box of suitable 'school' books.

On Sunday I just lazed around in my cabin and did my laundry during the morning then I went to the Walker art gallery in the afternoon. There I saw the picture again, you know – ‘And when did you last see your father?’ – The picture of the little royalist boy being interrogated by the puritans. The picture so-oo reminded me of the inquiry I had just recently endured.

On the following Monday things got really busy with the heavy lifts and the over-lashings. I made myself invaluable while I clambered nimbly over the big loads as only a fifteen-year-old could; tugging wires, threading chains through ‘hard-to-reach’ lugs and freeing snags as the units were secured and lashed and chained down.
It was still March and the North Atlantic storms were still bloody awful. You’ve probably heard the seamen on my ships repeat the old saying; there are three months of bad weather in the Atlantic and nine months of f---ing dreadful.

If – no sorry not if; it was inevitable; when the ship started to roll and pitch in those storms, the heavy units had to be really secure. Securing lashings, chains and covers have to checked every day and what better thing to have scrambling over the loads than a nimble, willing, fifteen-year-old kid. I could hop nimbly over the big units and point out were unseen fastenings and shackles were coming loose then one of the stronger, older seamen would climb up to fix it. Often I’d help by watching the lashings as they were tightened to see none were in danger of breaking or coming undone. Often I even crawled into difficult corners and tightened up the 'bottle screws' myself. I got covered in filthy black grease and rust but it made me feel really useful and important. Just the stuff to kelp a kid recover some self respect.

Most of the time spent while loading the units in Liverpool, I became the bosun’s eyes and ears to squeeze into tight corners where older bigger men found difficulty.
On the Tuesday morning some photocopies of my statement were delivered to the Captain and he gave me one to keep. I kept it for many years until it was lost when my ship was attacked by terrorists or pirates in the South China Sea; I’ll never know which. We were forced to abandon her in a storm in the South China Sea because a rocket propelled grenade had penetrated her engine room and flooded it.
Then on the Wednesday I was working on some of the last loads when the bosun called to me."

‘Spider! Go and stand by the gangway, we’ve got important visitors.’

"I stared uncomprehendingly at the bosun because normally it was one of the cadets who attended the gangway for important visitors. The cadets were trainee officers and when they were put on gangway duty to receive important visitors, they wore their smart uniforms, reefer jackets and white topped caps. I was covered in filthy grease for I had been greasing the lashing wires and chains and shackles. Naturally I had been wearing my oldest, dirtiest working clothes. I mean I was handling oily wire ropes that were being greased for antirust protection once we were out at sea. I was absolutely filthy and in no fit state to receive ‘an important visitor’! I asked the bosun why I was being sent to do gangway duty, it didn’t make sense."

‘What for Bos’ were in dock and the ship’s not moving? Shouldn’t the cadet be there?’

‘Jus’ do as you’re told spider, you’ll see why in a minute!’

"Baffled, I did as I was told and went to attend the gangway. I was too scared to adjust any manropes or even tidy up the fancy life-belt because my hands were covered in filthy black grease. I’d have spread grease everywhere. My attending the gangway was a crazy idea and I was getting suspicious. The ship was in dock and not moving around with tides or currents, there were no cranes or trains moving ashore to catch the end of the gangway and everything was as it should be. Something wasn’t right and I was getting tetchy. Then my heart sank.

Down the quay appeared two black Bedford police vans; you know, the old, boxy ‘Black Marias’ and I cursed bitterly."

‘The bastards had been lying to me all the time; the police were coming for me!’

"As I scanned around looking for an escape and debating what to do, a heavy hand landed gently on my shoulder and the bosun’s voice announced softly as the hand tightened.

‘Calm down Spider. They’re not coming for you lad. Just wait here and watch.’

"I was still tense and the bosun realised I was still contemplating running for it so he observed."
‘Where would you run to Spider? The walls around the dock are twenty feet high and the gates are manned all the time. If you dived into the Mersey you’d be swept away and drowned in minutes. Just calm down lad, they are not coming for you, trust me!’

"I had to trust him, his grip was too strong and I could never have escaped it, but even then; he demonstrated to me that he would trust me and it was then up to me to trust him. He relaxed his grip and removed his hand almost inviting me to run. I looked up fearfully and our eyes met, he raised his eyebrows inquisitively and nodded towards the wide expanse of the Mersey. He was right, there was no escape. The tides in the River Mersey range up and down by thirty feet so the currents are tremendous, six knots; that's seven and a half statute miles per hour. I would have been swept away to certain death instantly, even if the tide was coming in I’d have been swept miles up the estuary - and it’s a deep, wide, cold place - and it was March.

With that the vans stopped at the bottom of the gangway and a dozen coppers came pounding up the steps. The gangway was bouncing like a springboard as they boarded and I thought the whole gangway would bounce out of its lugs. Then I stared uncomprehendingly as they totally ignored me. They went straight past me and into the amidships accommodation. The bosun tapped my shoulder gently and spoke softly to reassure me.

‘There you are lad; like I said, they aren’t after you; now just wait here with me and watch.’

I stood in disbelief until about twenty minutes later all the men who had been my bedfellows; my friends as I thought of them, were marched down the gangway in handcuffs. I’d never seen anything like it and I was horrified that they were taking my friends away. I asked myself ‘what had I done’ and I started shouting to let them go.

The Bosun squeezed my shoulder and said they were no friends of mine but I was too distraught to understand him. I kept shouting after the vans even as they disappeared down the quay.”

Ellie stared aghast.

“You mean you still saw them as your friends after everything?”

Beverly grimaced resentfully.

“Listen Ellie; these guys were the only people who had ever cuddled me, ever been kind to me, spoken softly to me, or kissed me and kept me warm in bed - all the things a little girl need when she's growing up!!!!!

Up until my first voyage that ship the only adults I’d ever experienced, in all walks of life, had been unfeeling or abusive, cruel bullies; - and that includes the doctors in Walton! What did I know? Those guys had been my shipmates and their actions had been tantamount to mothering me, the first cuddles and embraces of those who showed any care!

To me they were obviously my friends as far as I could understand.”

Ellie wagged her head and disbelief.

“You were really buggered up in the head weren’t you?”

“Tell me about it.” Beverly croaked before continuing.

“All the rest of that afternoon I worried about them and fretted about what would happen to them. That night I locked myself in my cabin, put on my bra and knickers and cried myself to sleep. I wanted to be their little girl again, all cuddled and warm in their beds, but I'd betrayed them! What did I know?

The next morning I turned to for work and I finally realised my ‘friends’ weren’t coming back. I felt guilty as hell and the bosun picked up on my mood. He told me to go and make myself a cup of tea and I grabbed his offer. For the rest of that morning I just cried to myself in my cabin.

After lunch the doctor returned with my health report and a huge box of drugs. I was taken up to the captain’s cabin and the situation was explained to me.
I could stay on the ship and be treated by the second mate who acted as the ships medical officer, or I could sign off and be kept in an isolation hospital to make sure I took my medicines and didn’t spread any disease.
I had syphilis, gonorreah, NSU, herpes - you name it I had it! I was like a walking plague victim. Danish seamen call it 'A Turkish Orchestra'”

Ellie’s jaw sagged for the umpteenth time and Beverly's jaw tensed.

“Bloody hell girl! Why are you surprised? I’d been a street prostitute on the streets of half the bloody cities of Northern England. Different partners nearly every night and NO protection. Not to mention two years of perpetual rape in Borstal; again with no protection. What the hell d’you think I had? Flue!

Naturally I chose the ship; the last place I ever wanted to be was in a hospital again. I didn’t trust doctors and the very words ‘Isolation hospital’ rang like a death knell. Besides, I’d had eight years of isolation since I was six. The doctor took me, Captain Mac and the second mate through a whole list of do’s and don’ts then finally, Beverly, the pox-ridden deck-boy, was set to sail; - six needles a day for three months then three for six months with health checks whenever I returned to Liverpool and then the jabs to continue until I was declared clear.

For a whole of my first fully legal trip I slept in the ships hospital. It was isolation and protection. The captain gave me the other key so I could lock my door at night. It also gave me some dignity and told me I was NOT a prisoner!Furthermore the hospital was stood alone on the centre-castle abaft the funnel so nobody could sneak up to the door without serious risk of being seen from the bridge-wing by the lookout.”

Ellie wagged her head then added.

“Thank God Aids wasn’t around then.”

“Don’t I know it!?” Beverly agreed. “Well anyway; a day later the ship was nearly ready to sail and the crew were called back by telegrams. I signed on for a second voyage as deck boy and off I went to sea, legally this time and with legally amended identity books.”

“You were lucky Beverly.” Ellie observed.

“Nobody knows that better than I do.” Beverly replied then continued thoughtfully.

“Consider this Ellie. You take a transgendered kid who had spent 6 years in a psycho unit followed by two and a half years in prison - borstal that is. The boy had been a run-away, a thief, a liar, a transvestite child-prostitute and he was riddled with disease. Finally to cap it all he couldn’t read or write and he hadn’t got a single qualification to his name, he’d never been to a proper school. Except for a brief time between aged five and six. What would have happened to that boy today?”

Ellie nodded thoughtfully as Beverly continued.

“Now consider what Captain Mac did by signing me on as deck-boy - legally? He gave me a proper job with government regulated rate of pay; he gave me a cabin and, all importantly, my own key to lock my own door. He gave me a warm, private, dry bed where nobody could invade my life. I received three, good, square meals a day plus a night pantry with a buffet bar where I could pick and nibble at food all night.

At the time however, I didn’t realise I was entitled to eat from the night buffet. I thought it was for watch keepers only. I can always remember on the night we sailed from Liverpool just after midnight as we crossed the Mersey bar and set course for Philadelphia.

I came from the deck last of all because after sending down the mooring ropes, I had been coiling up the heaving lines and putting the canvas cover on the big brass docking telegraph on the docking station down aft. It was a cold, wet, stormy April night and I was last into the crew’s mess-room feeling cold, tired and hungry. I was staring longingly at the food as the more senior watch-keeping seamen all shovelled sandwiches and cold cuts onto their plates.

The lamp-trimmer saw me staring hungrily at the sideboard groaning with left-overs and asked me.

‘What’s up spider, aren’t yer hungry lad?’

I nodded and then turned to the bosun and asked if I was allowed to have some. The crew fell silent for a moment then started roaring with laughter as the bosun explained.

‘Fer God’s sake Spider! Eat all yer want kid. Yer part of the deck crew now lad, fill yer boots, it’s part of yer wages!’

Then and only then did I realise I had become one amongst men, even if I was only a very junior one.
On that second voyage working as a bona-fida crew-member, Captain Mac gave me dignity and the self respect – the sense of worth that came with my job and being accepted into the company of honest, hard-working men.

Yes, they were hard men; rough and ready men though decent and straight-talking; but above all, - they were fair.
Captain Mac gave me all this and more - free travel all around the world because I was now a registered seaman and I could find work on any ship provided I kept my nose clean and recorded good discharges in my discharge book.

Could you imagine a fifteen-year-old misfit landing that sort of deal today? - Free travel all around the world!!”

Ellie wagged her head again.

“Frankly, no I couldn’t. Captain Mac must have been some sort of saint.”

“He was - well he was to me, God knows why!. He was like a father to me; indeed some years ago I had the enormous privilege of attending his funeral in North Shields. His wife actually asked me to give the Eulogy because his two daughters were too upset. It was one of the most emotive and rewarding moments of my life. His wife and I spoke at length after the funeral.

Even she didn’t know his whole life story, indeed I don’t think anybody did but apparently Captain Mac had a rough time of it as a child. He’d definitely had a very bad war, torpedoed a few times on the Atlantic convoys and apparently once on the Arctic run. Anybody who survived that was a truly lucky son-of-a-bitch – as well as being as tough as old boots.

Nobody knows better than me how bloody awful the North Atlantic can be. Seamen joke that it’s three months of bad weather and nine months of just bloody awful! There’s a lot of truth in that black, homespun humour.

Think what it must have been like to get torpedoed and to end up swimming for a lifeboat in those seas. Captain Mac must have seen some terrible stuff and then he must have seen something in me that struck a chord, or reflected his life somehow. I don’t know, but I can think of no other reason the man was so good to me. I had countless reasons to be grateful to him and as a reflection on his memory I in turn later helped transgendered kids who ended up in trouble.

Remember those children you saw back at my Rosy Cottage riding school; well I adopted some of those kids and fostered others because they were young and vulnerable. Captain Mac taught me that much.

I stayed nearly ten years on that ship and finally rose to the rank of Lamp-trimmer; that’s like second bosun. All the time I was earning good money while the ship traded up the Eastern seaboard and Great Lakes. I was making huge amounts of overtime as we transited the various locks and canals.”

“If the money was so good, why did you leave?” Ellie asked.

Beverly gave a wry smile.

“I didn't, the ship effectively left me. She was eventually sold. We arrived in Liverpool after a winter trip and Captain Mac called the crew together as we were signing off for that voyage. He told us the ship was being sold to the Greeks. All the regular ‘company men’ were being offered jobs on other newly-built company ships. The non-contract crew would have to find work elsewhere but that was no hardship. At the time seaborne trade was expanding quickly all over the world so there was plenty of work and nobody suffered unduly.

By then, after over nine years on the ship, I was a contracted regular hand and Captain Mac spoke to me privately after the meeting. He still called me ‘Spider’ privately, it was his privilege and a term almost of respect for me and the journey I’d travelled. His biggest gift to me was helping me to learn to read, write and all importantly learn maths and science from the text books supplied by ‘The Seafarer’s Education Service’.

On that day, the last day of the ships last voyage, in Captain Mac’s private quarters, we chatted about how I should go forward with my life and my efforts to improve my lot by studying.

My studying had all started on my second trip when I was cleaning the wheelhouse and chartroom one afternoon. We were only a day and a half out of Liverpool and we had just rounded Malin Head off Northern Ireland to face the full brunt of a North Atlantic westerly. Suddenly the ship had rolled heavily and the first mate Mr Roberts had accidently spilled his coffee over the chart. He was cursing his own clumsiness when I appeared as if by magic with some clean cloths and a bucket because I’d been just going to clean the bridge lavatory. Instead we both hurriedly mopped up the spilt coffee before it could permanently stain the chart and we managed to save it. With the panic over he realised we had wiped off the pencilled positions so he asked me to read out the hourly coastal positions from the ships log for the previous six hours. Then he re-plotted them on the chart.

I was hopeless at reading out the latitudes and longitudes and he wagged his head as he transcribed them by pencil faster than I could give them.

I think that really brought home to Mr Roberts just how bad a handicap my illiteracy was. Later that evening I was cleaning the coffee tray and replenishing the sandwiches for the third mate coming on duty. He asked me frankly.

‘D’you want to learn to read and write Spider?’

I just stopped and stared at the sticky mugs I was taking to wash. It seemed that cleaning other people’s mess was all I was ever destined to do. The answer to his question was staring me in the face but I was too frightened, and too ashamed to say yes. I was certain people would laugh at me if they saw me trying to read some child’s book; even in the privacy of my own cabin. I desperately wanted to say yes but that ridiculous image of a teen-aged boy reading a nursery book or something was just too much to swallow. In the end I mumbled uncertainly.

‘People’ will laugh sir.’

“Not if you do it up here spider. You could spend an hour during the dog-watch with me when we’re at sea. There aren’t many ships and the watchmen is outside keeping a lookout. There will only be me and the captain and the sparky coming into the chartroom between five and six in the evening.’

‘But I’ll be serving the men their dinner then sir. They eat between six and seven o’clock.’

"He had another think then said he’d see me the following night. The next night he was there with Captain Mac. I was given permission to go and study in the little pilot’s cabin usually reserved for long pilotages that required two pilots like the St Laurence Seaway and the Great lakes canals. On ocean passages the pilot’s cabin was usually empty and I was handy to the bridge for messages and stuff. They arranged for me to study between seven and eight each night.

When the other officers found out they even offered to help, mostly the new radio officer and the electrician because they kept different watches to the deck and engineering officers. Then the deck cadets found out and they came sneaking around the Pilot’s Cabin one evening. When they looked through the port-hole and saw me poring over my books they realised it was true, I was actually studying and I wasn’t being isolated because of my infections.

They even offered to help me, especially as I improved.

I still needed to read out aloud though; like some kid reading to the teacher. That’s where the bosun proved to be a real hero. Later each night I’d often sit in his cabin up until nine o’clock while he listened to me read. The crazy part was that the first ‘book’ I finally read from cover to cover was the ‘International Rules of the Road at Sea’.

That’s like the highway code for ships instead of cars. It had the double function of teaching me the rules for ships meeting at sea and teaching me to read. I can still vaguely remember the first few lines because I later had to learn them all verbatim for my second mates licence.

‘These rules shall be followed by all vessels on the high seas and in all waters connected thereto navigable to sea-going vessels.’

Or some such wording. It was a lot harder than ‘Janet and John reading scheme,’ I can tell you.
Anyway, it was during those particular hours that I finally came to realise that sitting in somebody else’s cabin wasn’t an automatic invitation to be raped. The sheer relief of stepping out of the bosun’s cabin at nine pm after pursuing a completely normal and lawful activity was like a breath of fresh air. Never once did he make any untoward moves and I gradually got to accept that it could be safe sitting near to somebody without inviting rape or unwelcome attention.

Also the cadets were studying for their second mate’s exams and they had stuff like dictionaries and exercise books. I was desperately short of writing paper until Mr Roberts was told by one of the cadets so he gave me several large hard-back note-books. Everybody who cared eventually pitched in and eventually, ever so slowly, I lost my embarrassment and shame.

Thinking back, I can’t help comparing the guys on the ship with the bastards in Borstal and the doctors in the hospital. Life was so topsy-turvy. Those bastards were paid to look after me and I suffered nothing but abuse and degradation at their hands.

But the ship’s crew, who had no responsibilities towards me; just ordinary working guys, and yet a bunch of seamen; supposedly the roughest and scummiest people on the planet! They were prepared to teach me and indeed did so. And don’t forget! Those seamen knew about Beverly the trans kid but they never abused me; indeed some of the queer stewards were totally solicitous of my situation. How come ordinary guys like that can be so decent and just let me be myself while so-called psychiatrists and wardens caused me all sorts of shit trying to change me or cure me, or worse, use me?

Well after six or seven years of constant study and playing ‘catch-up’ I had enough English, Maths and Science to study for my second mate’s licence. Make’s you think doesn’t it?”

Ellie nodded slowly; there was no contradiction to Beverly observations.

“So what happened after you paid off; - after the ship was sold.” Ellie asked.

Beverly smiled and tapped her buttock as though tapping the back pocket of a pair of jeans, though she was wearing leggings and calf length boots; her normal apparel when dockside.

“When I paid off I was rich. Well – relatively so. I had over seven thousand pounds in pay after nine years of constant work with lots of overtime and never paying off. You see, the other guys went home while our ship was on the British coast; that is Liverpool, Manchester and occasionally Glasgow. Then they’d return penniless as she prepared to sail again for the U.S.A and Canada.

I had nowhere to go, no family and certainly no friends ashore, consequently I stayed aboard in the UK and earned yet more overtime; - working in port, early 'turn-to's' to prepare the hatches, night-aboard money, lots of sailings and dockings and ‘shifting ship’ between berths, transiting the Manchester ship canal and just about any other jobs like night-watchman when the ship went into dry-dock. I was obsessed with saving money. The bosun lived in Cornwall so he had an arrangement to take leave after every fifth trip and he showed me how to save my money by not pissing it up in the bars.

All the time I lived aboard that ship I never once paid for my food or paid a heating bill, nor did I have to wash my own sheets. - That was a real bonus after two years of pink sheets! All I had to pay for was my own clothes which included the occasional dress and a bit of lingerie and stockings. Consequently, I saved a lot of money.

When I finally paid off, my seven thousand would have bought two or even three terraced houses in those days but I took Captain Mac’s advice. I used the money firstly to go to nautical college and hey-presto! I passed my exams first time. I had proved to the world something I had always suspected; I wasn’t stupid I was just transgendered! More importantly I had proved it to myself; I wasn’t stupid!

Six months after starting college I had passed my exams and I was a fully qualified officer. More importantly I still, had bags of money left over from my pay-off. I decided to take Captain Macs second piece of advice. I started looking for a home. To go looking for houses in remote places you need a car so I started taking driving lessons then I passed my driving test and bought a van."

“Oh do tell,” Ellie pressed as she recalled her own early house-hunting days after her marriage.

Beverly grinned and began to go red as she blushed.

“Well, as you can realise, I was looking for some sort of gorgeous, girly, ‘Roses-round-the-door’ dream-cottage but also somewhere utterly isolated where I could indulge my femininity in total privacy and security. I eventually found it; a small farmhouse called ‘Fingar Bach’ deep in the folds of the Llandegla Moors behind Denbigh. The neighbouring farmer had bought the farm for the land to add to his own and he was selling off the farmhouse with a paddock and an orchard. The farmhouse was located on a typically narrow country lane over a three miles from the main road and half a mile from any other dwelling. It was utterly isolated and there was also a pretty little stream running through the back of the farmyard. The whole setup was just perfect. The hedges had overgrown along the lane so it provided perfect isolation, privacy and silence. I fell in love with the place immediately and bought it for Cash.

That raised a few eyebrows as well; a scruffy sailor wearing denim jeans walks into the estate-agent and declares he wants to buy a house.”

“Very good sir and have you organised a mortgage?”

I savoured the sheer pleasure of slapping down my money in a huge bundle then declaring I wasn’t interested in a mortgage; I HAD CASH!

They started clucking and fussing like wet hens and chattering on about conveyancing and all sorts of legal jargon. I didn’t understand a bloody word about all the ‘legalese’ but I do now.

It still took a few weeks to complete the sale but the moment the cottage was mine, I immediately set about restoring the house and converting the barns to extra living space. Like many Welsh farm-houses, the cattle sheds and stable were stone-built extensions to the main house. Within a year I had the house exactly as I had dreamed; roses around the door and everything. I still had another year’s leave and I intended to spend it simply luxuriating in my dream home whilst living as a girl or more correctly a woman. But it wasn’t to be.”

The disappointment ran thick through Beverly’s voice and Ellie felt forced to ask.

“Why, what happened?”

“My sister, your aunt Sandie, she discovered I had bought the cottage and she came looking.”

Ellie looked askance.

“Oh. She never told me that, she said she spent years looking for you and never found you.”

“Oh didn’t she, I wonder what she thought she had to hide – no I can guess; maybe she felt guilty about my disappearance, maybe she was trying to look for forgiveness. Whatever it was, I was in no mood to forgive and I gave her short shrift. I made sure she wouldn’t find me a second time.”

“Go on, how did she find you the first time?”

“Apparently she was working in another estate agent’s office in another town called Mold. Like most office girls, she gossiped with other office girls over lunch and she had a friend who worked in the same agency where I’d bought the farmhouse. I had bought Fingar Bach from the Estate Agent office in Denbigh and this other girl worked in the sister office in Mold. Well apparently she was going through annual sales figures and she spotted my male name on the list of annual sales for the Denbigh office. She immediately recognised that my name was the same as your auntie Sandie’s maiden name; Holst.

Having recognised the similarity with your Auntie Sandie previous maiden name she had mentioned it. Our old name is not a common name and my sister obviously put two and two to make four. They immediately suspected that I was her younger brother and they were right. My given names clinched it. Later on I confirmed this had been the case; apparently this girl had accidentally broken the confidentiality clause in her contract and revealed my name to my sister. Then the evil bitch came looking for me.”

Ellie protested.

“Auntie Sandie’s not an evil bitch; she’s one of the nicer ones in the family.”

Beverly snorted partly with derision, partly with disgust.

“Huh! To you maybe, to me she was enemy number one! Or possibly number two - after the bitch that spawned me.”

Ellie frowned uncomfortably as she sensed Beverly’s hurt. It would achieve nothing to try and contradict her new-found auntie so she let Beverly's remarks slide and simply pressed for more of the story.

“So what happened, when she found you?”

“Oh yes, I remember that day as if it was yesterday. It was a Friday afternoon on a gloriously hot summers’ day. I had just finished a job on the house that morning and I had scrubbed up and dressed prior to going into the Gay village in Manchester. I was just lounging in a swinging seat in the orchard and savouring a long cool drink as I was checking some building costs. It was an idyllic day as I sat in my beautiful floaty summer dress while the bees droned lazily around the flowers. I hadn’t got a care in the world. My summer dress slithered provocatively over my nylon slip and I was in heaven as I squirmed sensuously inside my dress.

Then I heard a car engine come labouring up my lane and I wondered what it could be. My nearest neighbour was Mr Griffiths, the farmer who’d sold me Fingar Bach. He invariably travelled up the lane in his tractor when he came to check his live-stock or crops so I knew from the engine sound that it probably wasn’t him. This was a car engine and I became curious as it approached unseen behind my hedges that I had deliberately left to grow thick, tall and impenetrable. I stood up irritably to look down the lane but didn’t recognise the car. When it arrived, it didn’t stop by my front gate but it drove past and entered via the old farmyard gate.

I was a bit annoyed that they hadn’t called at my garden gate and front door. I mean, isn’t that what regular, first-time visitors do - knock on the front door?

The yard gate led into the old barnyard that had now become my backyard. With all the building work going on, the back was a hell of a mess because the builder was using it to store materials and dump rubble as he was still renovating the buildings. It was a muddy, dirty place with all the on-going building work. Consequently I never went through my backyard into my house because it carried dirt into the refurbished parts of the house. These visitors however, drove straight up to my back-yard where I’d left the gates open for the builder’s skip-lorry. Then they drove in and parked in all the mud and rubble, churning the ground up even more. As they got out I heard the lady passenger make some comment about ‘the place being a bloody mess’ then she looked up and saw me. I recognised her immediately but she didn’t recognise me for I had put my make up on ready to clubbing and she obviously didn’t know I was living as a woman.

She must have thought I was her younger brother’s wife or ‘live-in’ partner. I had bought the house while dressed as a man and few people knew about Beverly.

As I recognised her, I stood in my back door unwilling to step into the mess in my pretty heels and I called her name immediately.

“What the f—k are you doing here Sandra?” I demanded.

She stared uncomprehendingly then took a gasp as she finally suspected who I might be.

“Is that Bernard!?”

“Never mind who ‘that is’.” I mimicked back alluding to her offensive use of the indefinite article. “I know who you are and I don’t want you anywhere near this place or me. You’ve got two options. You can leave peacefully or I’ll throw you off.

She tried to argue but I was not having any of it. Her husband tried to negotiate but I was past caring.

“Go now. I don’t want you near me, I don’t care what you’re trying to say just go! And take him with you. This isn’t some six-year-old kid you can bully. I’m a twenty-six-year seaman and I can punch my weight. Now GO!”

There was a pause but Ellie didn’t interrupt; it was apparent Beverly was gathering her thoughts before she continued.

“She left there and then and the last I saw was the car driving away across the valley. I’ve never seen anybody from the family since that day. In fact apart from that incident I have never seen any of them since I was put away – six bloody years old. How does that affect a person?”

Ellie was still silent. She knew that fact to be true because her own family had fallen out over it. There was nothing she could think of that would mitigate the circumstances. Beverly sensed her story was over and she wrapped it up.

“The following Monday I stormed down to the estate agents and demanded to know how my sister had found out. After all I was over twenty miles from the old family home but I could not criticise the estate agents in Denbigh. My name was unique and it was no secret that I’d bought the house. I hadn’t changed my name up to that point and I never did until quite recently when I finally went forward with my gender change.

The upshot was, I put the house, ‘Fingar Bach’, my beloved ‘Roses-round-the-door, cottage’ back on the market and I went back to sea. I decided I would use up my remaining leave another time and bank the money. It came in useful later in my life but essentially that was my early life.

After that it was more lonely years at sea climbing the ladder of promotion, changing companies when I heard that other shipping companies were seeking to recruit. Thus I wandered around the planet until I was made redundant once too often. Fortunately it was a Danish company and they gave me a generous redundancy package but frankly I was sick and tired of being a piece of flotsam being shuffled around by different shipping companies as and when it suited them.

Then I got a lucky break.

I was staying at the Botlek seaman’s hostel in Rotterdam where I was looking for yet another job. There by happy chance I happened to meet Billy and Mac. We were all ‘between ships’ and looking for work when Mac spotted this advert for a ship to trade between South Africa and Iran. We laughed about it and thought no more of it. Then the next day I came across another advert about a ship for sale up in the Baltic Sea; it was a distressed bankruptcy sale. Once again we joked about buying it but one thing led to another and we became serious about it. I went looking to win the freight contract while Billy and Mac went to look at the ship lying up the Baltic Sea.

Yes it was the Speedway, the very same ship that sailed early this morning. She was our very first ship. When the Speedway came on the market, we three – that’s Me, Billy and Mac, bought it with our shared Savings and a mortgage. We had already won the charter between South Africa and Iran and since then we three have never looked back. It was a somewhat shaky deal and it involved carrying some rather illicit stuff between the two countries but there was no embargo between the countries so technically we weren’t breaking anybody’s laws. The freight-rates were sky high though and we did very well out of the charter.”

Ellie wagged her head and grinned.

“So here you are owner of three ships and millionaire. Nana Charlotte would be amazed to learn of your success.”

Beverly stiffened and pursed her lips in anger.

“Nana Charlotte – as you call her, can take a running jump. The less I see or hear of that bitch, the happier I am!”

“But don’t you want to see her? If only to show that you’ve done better than any of her other children?”

Beverly sighed somewhat impatiently.

“Have I? So what? I really don’t give a toss about them. You still don’t seem to get it do you darling. As far as I’m concerned, they are dead; the bitch that spawned me, the bastard that fathered me and all their other children.”

Ellie nodded sadly as she was finally forced to acknowledge her Auntie Beverly’s feelings.

“So you say you will continue to hate them. Isn’t hatred a destructive force both for the hater and the hated?”

“No Ellie, you’ve got it wrong. I don’t feel hatred for them, I don‘t feel anything at all. To carry hatred is to carry a burden and I don’t want to burden myself. Consequently I have shed all feelings for them and therefore I do not burden myself.”

“So what of my dad William?”

Beverly paused thoughtfully and Ellie wondered if she had found a chink in her auntie’s armour.

“William? Billy as I used to call him; I don’t suppose I can hold him liable, he was only eight after all. Though apparently he never came looking for me so he can’t have been unduly concerned about me either.”

“Men seldom do Auntie Bev, it’s women who take upon themselves the burdens of family.”

“Yes you’re right Ellie. I suppose they do it for the children mainly, to give them a sense of identity, a sense of belonging. I see Callum seems pretty well set in the family bosom but just ask yourself to what family do I belong?”

Now that Auntie Beverly had raised the subject of her child, Ellie seized the seeming olive branch that appeared to be offered.

“Oh, Callum of course? I know you love him; I’ve seen your countenance split into a smile when you meet her - or him either as Callum or Callista.”

“Of course I love your child; I prefer her as Callista though. She is after all, a child after my own heart, a child like me. How can I not see her safe? Who else of our blood besides you of course, will see her safe through the life of turbulence she has now to confront? You’ve said it yourself; her own great grandmother despises her gender dysphoria.”

Ellie felt a warmth wash like a wave through her core and she smiled contentedly. She decided to try and arrange a meeting between her new-found aunty and her dad by using Callista as a key.

“Can she come and see your ships one day?”

“Any time she wants Ellie, whenever she wants. Bring her next week if you wish, you know I like seeing her. Even bring her during the midweek if time allows after school. She can get changed from that boy’s uniform she hates to wear and she can come down. I’ll welcome her with open arms.”

“I’ll have to fetch her though, that mean’s time off work.” Ellie cautioned.

Beverly smiled.

“No problem. You work well for me, you deserve the privilege. Best make it Tuesday evening when the Speedwell docks. I’ll speak to my partner Angie and see if any of my children want to come down. They can show Callista around the ship. I’ll be here anyway when she docks so Angie can bring our brood down while you fetch Callista.”

They cleared away the coffee things and locked the office then made their different ways home; Beverly to Rosy Cottage while Ellie drove the longer journey to her shared cottage deeper into Rural Dorset. Once home she decided to tell he dad of her amazing discovery. On the way home the heavens opened and she arrived in the pouring rain to the accompaniment of thunder and lightning. As she dashed from the car her dad emerged from the cottage and flung the door open then grinned.

“Wet enough for you darling?”

“Quite, thank you!” She grinned as she tugged the coat off her hair and reached up to peck him on the cheek. “Where’s Calli?”

“She’s with mum they’re learning sowing or something. I think your Nan’s coming around to the inevitable.”

Ellie’s eyes widened as her eyebrows rose.

“Well that’ll be a first.”

“I think your reading the riot act to her made your feelings sink in. I haven’t heard a peep for the past two hours,
Calli must be enjoying something.”

“Well that’s good. I’ve got some freakish news for you!”

“Oh-oh. Am I going to like it?”

“I don’t know.”

“Go on, hit me with it.”

Ellie relished the bomb-shell she was about to drop but decided at the last moment not to reveal Beverly’s identity.

“My boss Beverly is a transgender girl just like Calli!”

William frowned slightly and stared at his daughter.

“What? You mean born a man and transitioned to be a woman.”

Ellie wanted to scold her father for using the wrong language or expressions but she simply explained softly.

“No Daddy. She was born a girl but had the wrong plumbing - the wrong genitalia. In her brain, she’s always been a girl then a woman. The trouble was when she was a child, things were very different. She’s been a woman all her life but suppressed the issue as she tried to accommodate her own guilt and the fear of other people’s loathing she’s felt all her life.”

“So how did she get to be the boss of the transport company you work for?”

“She owns it daddy.”

William frowned with mild surprise.

“So what exactly does she do then, there in the harbour? I can hardly see how a transgendered person could make her way amongst all those truckers and dockers.

“She manages very well and those dockers respect her.”

“So what sort of transport business is it?” William asked.

“Shipping, what else. You know I work for a small shipping company down in Poole harbour, well she owns those ships with the green white and black funnels.”

“I thought you were just involved with a freight company shipping truck-loads into and out of the docks. I didn’t realise it was a shipping line as well. I thought it was a fleet of trucks you managed.”

“No daddy! It’s a fleet of ships; she owns a fleet of ships the Speedway, the Speedwell, the Speedwind, and now with this north-Sea business, she’s buying a fourth ship and calling it the Speedwork. Beverly is the majority share-holder in the shipping fleet plus a half share in that huge container crane that dominates the harbour, plus a couple of thousand containers that she’s pooled into the world consortiums."

William fell silent as he settled into the regular routine of preparing dinner and within thirty minutes Nana Charlotte and Callista joined them as the four generations were seated around the table.

“Was your business at the office all sorted then darling?” Nana Charlotte asked.

“Yes Nana. There’s a few loose ends to tie up later this week then the North-sea trade should start the beginning of next month. I’ll have to go north sometime this month and take Calli with me; she can stay at Denton Hall while I take a hotel room in Hull.”

“Will he be staying with the Duchess I suppose?”

“SHE will be staying with Molly, yes. I’ll pop into see them at the weekends and any other time I have free, but I’ll be gone for a couple of months until we can find a suitable manager for the trade in and out of the Humber. I can’t be certain how long I’ll be gone.”

Cali’s eyes widened with pleasure at the mention of Denton Hall.

“Will I be able to wear my dresses up there mummy?”

Ellie smiled.

“Yes darling, of course you will, but not for school. We’ve got to get the doctors to declare you a girl first and that’s going to take time. These things are complicated.”

“What does complicated mean?”

“Difficult, like a maze or a puzzle, hard to work out.”

“It’s not like a puzzle to me. It’s easy, I feel like a girl more and more; all the time now.”

Ellie sighed and stared at her dad and Nan.

“See what I mean. If this isn’t sorted soon, she’ll grow up, f----d up.” She mouthed the swear-word.

Nana Charlotte drew breath to speak but a glare from Ellie cut her short. Charlotte glared back then snapped.

“I was about to say her sowing is very good! I’m beginning to think you may be right; I might actually have a great grand-daughter and not a great grand-son.”

Ellie sagged with relief as she felt a burden lifting from her shoulders.

“Sorry Nana, I’m a bit on edge tonight.”

“Trouble at t’mill was it?” Nana Charlotte smiled.

“Yes, partly but it can keep.”

~~o000o~~