Time to hit the Beach!

This is the story of Penny. A closet Transwoman thrust into the outside world 24-7 when she would rather go and hide away. Perhaps the title should be Welcome to Penny’s Paranoid World…

From part five
“Can you smell that,” John took in a big breath of air. “Wonderful.”
“What?” I said grinning, watching the disappearing ‘S’ Class. “Trish and Malcom’s diesel fumes.”
John laughed. “No. The smell of the sea. The rain has blown in from out at sea. It leaves the smell of the ocean in the air.”
I had noticed. My father was a Chief engineering officer on P&O cruise ships. I spent most of my childhood holidays at sea on various P&O’s cruise liners, but mostly on Canberra when I was young.
Soon we were at my front door. Only then did I think of the situation I was in, would he expect me to kiss him goodnight? I’ve never kissed anyone. I don’t even know how to kiss someone. What do I do, how do I act?

And now as they say, read on…

I had not even thought about it. That he might expect me to kiss him goodnight. I mean I had never had a girlfriend so I had never been in this situation before as a boy or a girl. I only knew what I had seen in movies to go on, and they always seemed to end in a chased or passionate kiss. But the movies were make-believe, fiction, not real.

“Well, here we are. I hope you had a good evening? Mother said you have not had much chance to get out and about in the past couple of years. It must have been a shock going from the life of a flying instructor to that of a carer. ”

“Yes, I guess it was. It seems a long time ago now.” I looked up at him. “But what about you. You lost your wife, your partner in life. That left you with three young girls to bring up.” I smiled at him. “Your trio of little banshees. After you’ve had a hard day on the farm, you must be wacked just when the girls want your attention.”

He smiled thinking of them. “Yes. Well. I get a lot of help from mum. She had to basically become mother to them, they were so young. She does far more than she should have too. And she never lets me see her tired. I mean she must be absolutely knackered at times, given all the time she spends with them, but she never complains. Never lets me see it.”

John grinned. “Anyway, what about you and…”

Before he could finish we started to feel rain drops on us.

“Oh.” We said together.

“I better go in.” And felt for my door key in my clutch bag on its thin gold chain and opened the door.

“Thanks for the loan of the jacket.” I said slipping it off as I stepped inside, handing it back.

“No problem, my pleasure.” He slung it over his shoulder rather than put it on. He seemed reluctant, then glanced up at the sky.

“Hmmm, better put this up.”

He put the umbrella up. Before turning back. “All done. Well, good-night Penny.”

“Good-night, John.”

He nodded, and then walked down the path and was gone. I closed the door and turned back leaning on it to see Clair leaning in the sitting room doorway watching me. Smiling.

“Well. You, clearly had a good night.” Said Clair pleased.

“Evie just asked him to walk me home in case it started raining again.”

“Oh, is that what they call it nowadays.”

We moved together and met mid-hall. She hugged me.

“So, you had a nice time. Yes.”

“Yeah… was okay.”

She giggled. “Was okay she says. Walking up wearing a man’s jacket.”

“You were watching!”

“Of course. Anyway don’t go trying to change the subject. Guys putting their jacket on you is their way of telling the other guys, ‘Hands Off. Mine.”

“No. he was just being nice. I was cold… Damn, of course I was cold. I left my coat at Evie’s. Oh god, will he think I did it on purpose won’t he, to get him to do that. Crap.”

Clair laughed.

“Oh, you have so much to learn. Baby girl.”

“Anyway I better be off home. Jenny’s fast asleep. She went to the loo about half an hour a go, so you should be good for the night.”
“Thanks. Here, you better take this, it’s raining again.” I handed her the transparent umbrella I bought and then never used. It was the type with the deep hood you stuck your head up inside. She took it, but half way down the path folded it back up holding out her hand to show the rain had stopped again and started back to me.

I waved her away. “Tomorrow.”

She nodded and turned and carried on home and then I was alone. I locked the door.

I had the kettle on when the phone rang.

“Hi, I home. See you tomorrow.”

“Thanks Clair. Night.”

I checked Mother was still asleep, and went back and made a cup of tea. I sat there in the quiet of the sitting room thinking about everything that happened tonight.

The banter at the table, the togetherness of the girls in the conservatory. The men regarding me as just an attractive woman in her thirties. Unbelievable as that was. But the thing was, they saw me as a woman, not a man in a dress. I was not one of them. I WAS THE OPPERSITE SEX. Although what it said of the impression I had made on everybody in the seven years I had lived in the village as a man. It seemed Paul Johnson was an invisible man as far as the people of Lower Steeping were concerned. Maybe because I had never been in the pub I did not exist. I was not a beer drinker. I like a can of the Bavaria larger shandy from Holland with my evening meal, but that was it as far as beer went. But I have never been a pub person.

David had been nice. John putting his jacket over my shoulders when I was cold had been really nice too, and what that meant or did not mean the way Clair thought about it, I did not know. Slipping my heels off I put them up on the foot rest and wiggled my red toenails in my nylons with sleepy satisfaction. I woke when Henry jumped into my lap with cold paws and circled a few times before settling down purring. I stroked him lazily, making him purr louder, and just closed my eyes enjoying the quiet. The only sound Henry’s gentle purring as he fell asleep.

I woke up cold with a stiff neck at something gone three in the morning. I eased the still sleeping Henry off my lap into the chair and went and shut myself in the bathroom to take off my make-up and go to bed.

“I need to go to the bathroom. I need to do number two’s. Wee’ll, I don’t know, but I can’t git up. My Paul’s not here. He’ll know what to do. I don’t know... Well, why’d you keep askin then… stu’pid person.”

I am awake instantly and am up out of bed heading for mother before I am almost aware of it. It is light. I glance at the digital clock in the sitting room as I reach her. Ugg, twenty past five.

“Hello there. Do you want to go to the bathroom?”

“Yes. How’d you know?”

“Magic.”

She laughs, then panics. “Ohh, oouu, oohh. I need to go to the bathroom. Please. Oh dear! Oh dear!”

“Ok, then. Up you get.”

“So, you had a nice time, then.”

I nodded. Clair and I were outside at the small round café table basking in the sun. House work can wait. We had turned the chairs around to face the garden. Cold tall glasses of Tropicana smooth orange with loads of ice cubes in them are on the table between us. Mother was dozing in a wooden steamer chair, her feet up, under the folding gazebo I had got at the start of summer.

“You happy then. Being a girl full-time.”

I smiled, my eyes closed. “Yeah. I needed the push. Thanks.”

I have on a pink sun dress with faded yellow-pink flowers on it that ends about a foot above my knees when I am standing. Sitting it is considerable shorter. If I did not have my latex girl bits from the USA, I would be exposing myself. Instead my girl crotch and panties are covered up. But, Oh boy, does it make my legs look good. And not a hint of boy in sight, crotch wise.

Something made me look over at Clair. She was watching me, unsure about something.

“So you’re okay with it.”

“Mmmm.” I had a quick glance at Mother to check she was ok, and lent back feeling the warmth of the sun on my face.

“Good.”

Well she may have said ‘good’, but did not sound it.

“What is it.”

“Hum.”

“What is it. Something is bothering you.”

“No, it’s nothing.”

Clair was trying to cover, I could hear the embarrassment in her voice.

“Oh, come on. You’re my best friend.” I smiled, and looked over at her grinning mischievously. “Well, until I met Evie and Trish, but you’re still my number three best friend.”

Our eyes met and I giggled “And you are still my very best friend. So ask. I won’t be offended whatever it is.”

She shook her head sighing. “It’s kind of personal.”

“So?”

She eyed me.

“Okay Missy, you asked for it. It’s just that all the time I have known you, you have been very flat. You know.”

I looked down at my covered glued on boobs, not looking too flat at the moment.

“Yeah, well it’s a design flaw, but that’s the way males are put together, to be a bit flat up top.

“Not up top, stupid.” Clair said laughing. “Down below I mean. You know, where you’re supposed to swell out at the front… between your legs. Where girls don’t. Well, you’re very flat there. Very girlish.”

“Oh, that.” I said and left it at that and just nodded to myself.

“Well?”

I looked over at Clair keeping a straight face.

“Well?”

I chuckled. “Ok... I got this latex thing from the States about a week before you moved in. On it’s inside it has a pocket for little Jim, making him look like Miss Jim. If anyone were to put a hand on my knickers they would just feel my pussy. I can pee through it and everything.”

Now I really had Clair’s attention.

“So if you and John Farmer got amorous. You could do the dirty?”

I smiled coyly at her.

“A girl doesn’t talk about such things.”

Clair grinned at me. “So! You’re not denying it is a possibility, then. Oh, and get used to it girlfriend, we talk about everything. We’re not squeamish like boys.”

Hmm. That was a can of worms I was not ready to open just yet. What did I feel about John Farmer. Apart from whatever it was, it scared the hell out of me just even thinking about thinking about it.

I was just about to do mothers lunchtime soup when the phone rang. We have one of these modern electronic ones that look like a mobile phone with a flip down cover vintage Star Trek style. What sold me on it in the shop was one of the ringing tones was like the phone ringing at the start of The Rockford Files. I guess 70’s America telephone. I tried to get a fake answerphone voice like James Garner’s Rockford in the tv series, but the only one I could find was total crap. Not a bit like him. My Sat-Nav has a great Daffy Duck, on it though.

“Hello, Penny? This is Carol from Mid-Steeping Medical Centre.”

“Hello Carol, yes its Penny.” I answered nervously.

“Good. Thought it was you. Doctor Walker asked me to make an appointment for you to see him on Tuesday. I’ve got a ten-thirty and two-twenty available at the moment, would one of those be ok for you.”

“Two-twenty would be best. The other is a bit early for getting mother ready.”

“I thought it would be, but I thought I would give you the choice. Okay, I’ll put you down for the two-twenty, then.”

“Thanks, Carol.”

“Okay, bye Penny. See you Tuesday.”

I put the phone down on the counter and continued with mother’s soup. Chicken today. In no time I was taking it in to her watching the BBC News channel. She will watch the cycle racing on Eurosport, or Formula One on Sky or the BBC. But she is not interested in drama anymore. Last of the Summer Wine or Dad’s Army is ok, so is M.A.S.H. When my sister Carol is here she will watch Doc Martin with her laughing away. But if I turn over to it for her at other times I will be curtly told ‘I was watching that’, even though it’s a rolling news program and they keep re-telling the same news over again, most of the time.

I extract the crisp packed from her as I tuck in her napkin.

“Mine! Mine.”

“Look, I’ve put them here on the table. But its lunch time now. Here’s some chicken soup.”

“Oh. That’s nice. Would you like some? Shall I save you some?”

“No, it’s ok. I have some as well.”

There is about an inch and a half left in the kitchen, I finish that off.

I’m about to make a sandwich when she shrieks loudly. I grab another napkin as I race in knowing what I am going to find.

Mother is panicking, her hands pulling at the napkin. I can see a tiny spot of soup on it.

“It’s ok, it’s ok.”

It’s wet, it’s wet. I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I won’t do it again. I promise, I promise. I’m not bad. I’m not…”

“Its okay, It’s okay. No worries, no problem. It’s ok. That’s the napkins job. To take care on any stray drops of soup.”

“You’re going to smack my bottom.” She wails.

“No. why would I do that.”

“My mummy does.”

“Well, I’m not. Here another napkin, all nice and clean.”

She looks around, the panic subsiding.

“You’re not going to smack my bottom.”

“No.”

“Oh.”

I cheat. I put on the dvd of Cliff and The Shadows Final Reunion concert at the 02 in London. Then as the music hits her headphones.
“It’s CLIFF and THE SHADOWS.”

Is yelled at me and this little old lady who normally moves so slowly and is so fragile is bouncing up and down in the chair with her face bright and smiling full of joy.

“LOOK! It’s CLIFF and THE SHADOWS.”

“Okay,” I say trying not to smile. “Slow down. Slow down and drink your soup, and enjoy the music.”

“Okay.”

Getting her to have her soup can be a problem. But now she is spooning it up without thinking listening to Cliff and the Shads. I use a paper towel to remove the tiny amount soup from the napkin, and am making a cup of tea when the phone rings.

“Hello.”

“Hello, is that Penny Johnson? This is Pearl from Richards, Richards and Richards.”

Yes, I know it sounds like a name from a comedy sketch. But it really is my solicitors. Two brothers (both now dead) and John Richards, the son of one of them. Don’t ask me which one. I have never asked John. I had sent John an email this morning about my change of sex, name, etc. asking how I change the legal stuff.

“Hello, would you hold for one moment while I connect you with Mr Richards.”

“Thank-you.” This was a moment’s wait. Then John’s friendly voice came on.

“Penny? I received your email. First, let me ask you. Have you thought this through? Are you sure this is what you want to do?”

I tell him I have felt this way all my life really. That I cross dressed at times in my early twenties till a bad visit to Charing Cross Hospital in London. Now I wanted to change before I left it too late. He asked me to fax a copy of my driving licence to him with some other details along with a signed brief letter saying what I just said and we agreed to meet on Thursday at two in the afternoon at his office. I was to bring my passport and bring six passport size photos of the new me along with me. We would change my name and I would then sign some forms for him to send off.

I checked mother was still ok. She had finished her soup and was busy again with her packet of Teddy Bears. I took her dish back to the kitchen, taking the phone with me and rang Evie.

“Hello, hi there Evie. I just wanted to say thank-you for inviting me last night..."

"Yes I had a lovely time, thank-you..."

"And it was a lovely meal. I really enjoyed it…"

"Did I leave my coat by any chance… yes I thought so…"

"Oh, yes. That would be nice. Are you sure, I wouldn’t want us to intrude. Ok, yes, thank-you. See you then. Bye.”

Mmm, what to wear. And to tell mother.

It is still nice for an English summer’s day. Warm, sunny, and it is not raining! So my white dress with red poppy’s and broad shoulder straps and my yellow high-heel mules. My bare legs are starting to tan nicely. So I am feeling good pushing Mother up to Evie’s. Past the village hall on the right. Very convenient when you had to vote. A minute and a half door to door! Not so convenient when there was a village dance going on. Forget television or the radio on those evenings. It becomes your very own building size karaoke machine that you have no control over.

The road curves round to the left past Clair’s house next to us, then does an about turn curving the other way for a full ninety degrees to get to Evie’s and Johnny’s farm on the left. We go over a bump in the road which is a little road bridge with the Slayers Brook under it, which you would never guess was there. Unless you took it at speed and then you would be suddenly wondering why your car suspension had gone strangely light and why were you going straight ahead through a hedge into a field of sheep.

One of Johnny’s farm labourers had been down the lane recently with the hedge cutter on the tractor, so the path on the right side was useable and not overgrown. Someone was renting the field on the right to put their horses in again this summer. So the horses watch us in case we just happen to have a treat for them. And then deciding we do not, ignore us. A little bit further on round the field and it is time to cross over the lane to go into Apple Tree Farm. Evie waved from the kitchen window as we reached the kitchen gate and opened the kitchen door for us.

“Come on in.”

Evie’s kitchen was the sort found in country home magazines you can buy in the supermarket. Big, warm colours. Lots of wood, old wonderful sofa to sit on at one end. An Island with a double sink and cooker top. No I am not jealous of Evie’s kitchen, or of John Farmers super-duper kitchen to die for. Ok, well just a little bit. I would not be human if I was not.

Evie had tea cups and milk waiting on a tray as she warmed the tea pot, after dealing with the coffee percolator for Mother’s coffee.

“Why don’t we go outside, it’s too nice to be inside today. Can you take that tray out for me, darling.”

“Okay.”

I take the tray of cups and saucers etc. out to the wood table in the sheltered ‘L’ shape made by the wall of the main part of the house and the shallower setback bit of the ‘L’ that had been once been I would think the bakery and wash house, but now had the farm office and the kitchen in it with the conservatory on the end wall. The farm building beyond that kept any breeze away and made the flagstoned area a really pleasant place to be with a low dry stone wall to the front with the kitchen gate in it.

We both made another trip out with cake and biscuits tins and a bowl of mothers Teddy Bear crisps (you call them potato chips in the USA & Oz I think?) and finally the tea and coffee.

As mother tucked in to her Teddy Bears and a cup of coffee that probably tasted a million times better than the Nescafe instant I made her at home. Evie had made it with one of those coffee pots with a plunger in it. We talked about what to feed the girls tomorrow. She though they would love having a beach hut to go in. we decided not to tell them about it and let it be a surprise when we get there.

When it was time for Evie to go and collect the girls from school. I roused a sleeping mother by taking Fred’s floppy paw and gently tapped her hand with it. When she woke she saw this and she smacked Fred.

“Naughty Boy.” Then was instantly sorry and kissed him and hugged him. “I’m sorry. I love you. I’m sorry.”

Evie smiled watching her. “She’s a darling.”

As we walked home I thought of what we needed.

“Shall we go shopping?”

“Can we. Have I got pennies.”

“Yes, you’ve got pennies.”

“Can I spend them?”

The birds are singing the morning chorus and as much as I like to hear it, I wish they would have a lay in and start singing a bit later on in the morning. Four fifteen is not my preferred waking up time if mother does not want to go to the loo. So I lay their feeling warm and snug and willed the birds to SHUT-UP, thank-you.

We did the shopping at Bexly-on-Sea last night. It may be a small seaside town, but it still has a 24 hour Asda supermarket. The town council owns the land the beach huts are on and sets the rules on using them. No, overnight stays. You can use them between sun up and sun down. No night-time beach hut parties. So some extra loo rolls as we have guests, and tins of soup in case it turns cold and something warm is wanted. Plus fruit drinks and cans of pop etc. Things I could leave in the beach hut for tomorrow. We took mother’s old boneshaker wheelchair down with us as well to leave there to make more room in the car today.

I took my boobs off to shower and be kind to my chest for a bit, but stuck them back on a couple of hours later. Today I am going to wear my white halter top bikini. The bottom is big enough to cover my latex girly bits and the halter top has mesh up between the breasts to cover up any boob joins that might show. A big white T over the top and a pleated short skirt to cover my bum etc. and all I have to do is my make-up. Then I changed my mind almost soon as I was done, and looked for something else.
Oh, yes. Why did I not think of this before, perfect for my mules of yesterday. I pulled my genuine 1960s Biba aline bright yellow mini-dress from my wardrobe. I bought it a couple of years ago off e-bay and positively drooled at the thought of wearing it outside one day. That day had come, Baby!

When dressing mother after her bath, I told her Evie and the young girls we met the other day would be coming with us to the Beach Hut. Instead of being pleased as I thought she would be, she shook her head, No.

“Sweetie, why don’t you want Evie and the girls to come with us?”

She burst into tears. “They’ll want my Fred. They’ll take him away from me.”

I cuddled her. “No they won’t. Emily, the youngest has a tiger called Tig. Which she loves just like you love Fred. And the twins have Teddy Bears they love too. They won’t take Fred from you.”

I leave her for a moment to ring Evie and explain what has happened. She knows Emily will take Tig, but will have a word with the twins. We will pick them up in half an hour.

I pulled up outside the mock Tudor farmhouse and was opening the tailgate when three whirlwinds shot from the farmhouse to excitedly bound down the path to us. Each had a cloth shoulder bag. The twins with their longer legs leading Emily.

“Someone will have to trave…”

The twins were faster. “Bags, Us.” They chorused laughing as they raced round me to the tailgate and were climbing aboard before they had finished getting the words out.

“Seatbelts, girls.”

Giggling the girls had got hold of the tailgate strap and were pulling it down, closed. They nodded, grinning.

A quite Emily stood looking a little lost watching her sisters having all the fun, holding her booster seat and Tig. I bent down and hugged her and gave Tig a stroke on his head.

“Ready for the seaside. There is a dvd player on the back seat by your seat, if you want to you can watch a movie.”

She nodded, but looked wistfully at her sisters messing about in the back of the estate car. Evie had locked the front door and joined us. Taking Em’s seat booster she put it on the nearside rear seat.

“Come on darling, in you get. You sit with me.” Evie strapping her in behind mother.

Instead of going back to Apple Tree Farm to get to the road, we used White Gate farms own entrance on the road between Mid and Lower Steeping. Turning right we headed back towards our own village. Minutes later we were passing the Wagon & Horses at the top of the village and carried on to Great Steeping three miles further on. The funny thing about Great Steeping is the village is smallest one out of the three Steepings with only half a dozen houses in it. Oh, and before you ask, Mid-Steeping is the biggest, having the Railway Station, the Co-op shop, the newsagents, the Doctors surgery. And important to me! The fish and chippy! Most important to just about everyone else is there are three Pubs! Well, one is technically now a Bistro, ironically called Le Bistro. The Station Arms is amazingly by the railway station. Serves meals day and night and is a touch expense to eat at, but the food is really good according to Clair, The Old Plowman at the far end of the village is a down to earth village boozer. Just a pub, where you can play darts and the like, has a garden for the kids to play in while eating crisps and drinking lemonade, and is also the smallest, and busiest pub in the village. Our Waggon & Horses is twice the size.

Switching the radio to CD player, I soon had the sound of the opening drums of Apache coming through the speakers followed by the twanging of Hank Marvin’s guitar. A few minutes later Cliff and the Shads were belting out Summer Holiday. Ten minutes later we were on the motorway heading south.

I had made a cd the other day with a mix of sixties songs and fun ones like Terry Scott’s My Brother, Bernard Cribbins Right Said Fred, The Avons Seven Little Girls Sitting In The Back Seat. And one of my Favourites, Charlie Drake’s My Boomerang Won’t Come Back. Not the girl’s modern day music, but I hoped the girls would find the old comedy songs fun to hear given their age.

Evie and I chatted while Mother dozed. Em was quietly nodding her head to the music while engrossed in a Barbie sticker magazine Evie had given her. The twins were keeping themselves occupied waving to drivers behind us, giggling and finishing each other’s sentences. They also had cottoned on to the songs and the next time My Brother came on they were giggling and singing My Sister to it instead.

We left the motorway and took to the B roads to avoid everyone else heading for the coast.

Bexly-on-Sea is one of those small sleepy seaside towns that was surrounded by hills on the landside and has a high cliff overlooking the east beach, in the centre of the sea front is the pier, and to the west there is sand dunes. That was where in the 1930s they built a concrete promenade whose main purpose was to have somewhere for day trippers brought by the railway to go after spending all their money on the pier, and it was a great place to sell beach huts to the locals as well.

A quick visit to the ASDA store for some French stick loaves and fresh fruit. Then it was down the private road behind the sand dunes which was really the council’s service road for the café and toilet block that was mid-way along the promenade and also for fire engines to be able to reach the odd Beach Hut its owners had managed to set on fire. The road ends in a small carpark almost at the end of the Beach Huts. To make life interesting a miniature railway runs between the dunes and the service road, even having a little platform for it at the beach huts carpark before going a further quarter mile to the light-house before quite literally looping around it and heading back again.

“Right, who is staying with grandma and Jenny for the moment. And who is coming with me to open up the beach hut.”

“Beach Hut. You have a Beach Hut!” that was all three girls together, even if the twins drowned out Emily.

“Yes. I just need to go and open it up and get Jenny’s wheelchair from it first.”

Evie and I had agreed we would do it this way.

The three of them buzzed around me excited as we crossed the miniature railway track and went through the dunes onto the promenade and headed for our beach hut.

To stop vandalism when not being used, the beach huts have two big sheets of thick plywood covering up the front. The bottom half lets down to form the veranda floor and the top half folds up to clip up in the veranda roof.

“Oh, Wow!” The twins are peering in the windows. I give them the keys to open the twin doors. The three girls are in like a shot.

“Okay, we just need the wheelchair for the moment, lock the doors behind us. We’ll be back in a minute.”

“Nooooo. We just got here! Please, can we stay. We’ll behave.”

“We’ll be back in a moment. We just have to go and fetch Jenny and Granny from the carpark. Then we’ll come back.”

“Please, let us stay. Please. We’ll be good. Please.”

“NO. Lizzy, lock the doors. Em, want a ride back.”

The twins look astonished at me. I could tell them apart. They were so use to people not being able to tell which was which. What they did not know was Evie had told me how she knew who was who. Lizzy has a faint small scar on the left side of her neck. If you do not know where to look, you would never see it. Emily had a big grin on her face as she sat in the wheelchair as we set off back. The twins followed behind us quietly talking trying to figure out how I had busted them. This was serious business!

I suppose I could have let them stay in the beach hut with the doors locked. But that’s how girls disappear. You could break into the hut and carry them away screaming their heads off and with the wind, and the sound of the sea and the dunes in between the beach huts and carpark any noise they made would never be heard. And while cars are banned from the beach, a fisherman has a track onto the beach up by the lighthouse. He drives a tractor onto the beach to dig up cockles or something at low tide. Any four wheel drive car or 4x4 could use it.

“Pamm-Pamp” the little railways BR Blue class 37diesel hits the horn as it pulls away from platform and rumbles across the paths level crossing pulling its three coaches with SeaSide Express written on them, heading for the lighthouse.

Evie smiles. “That’s how we use to get here from the carpark back by the pier. On that little train.”

We crossed over walking between the dunes to the promenade. Evie leans in close and asks if had to tell the twins off, they are so quiet.

“No. they discovered I could tell them apart. They are still trying to figure out how I know.”

Evie chuckles. “They have always assumed that I can tell them apart as I’ve known them from birth. Everyone else they think, can’t tell between them. Their teachers can’t. You have them foxed. As they get older that little scar, faint that it is on Lizzy’s neck, is very useful.”

We are on the prom now. The sea is also most fully in leaving only about a two hundred foot of dry sand.

“Can we, please, can we.” The twins plead.

“Yes, go on.”

The girls rush off and let themselves back into the beach hut laughing.

When we get there they are sitting on camping chairs looking very pleased with themselves.

“Gran, it’s got a loo!” she is excitedly told.

Em adds that she really needs a wee, and the twins quickly join in they too need to spend a penny, as well. Em is dispatched to the camping porta-loo behind plywood wall I added at the rear of the beach hut so those on ablutions duty do not provide entertainment for passing walkers on the prom. Em is quickly followed by each of the twins. Meanwhile it’s on with the kettle for a cup of tea and out with the fry pan to cook the Grillsteaks we are going to have with the French stick bread for lunch.

After an enforced period of rest after lunch with the girls champing at the bit to hit the sand. Evie lets them loose on the beach. Three screaming banshees charge across the prom and jumped the three feet down to the beach despite Evie’s calls to be careful.

Half way down the beach Emily slows and stops and sits down. As her sisters carry on screaming and run into the sea to start splashing seawater at each other.

“Damn. I had hoped she would go all the way this time.”

“Why?” I asked.

Evie glances at me. “The twins have grown up with each other for company. They are amazingly self-confident. The whole twin’s thing. Em on the other hand has always been withdrawn, by herself. The twins have always been too boisterous for her when playing being two years older. She noticed the other girls when she started school had Mothers and she did not.” She sighed, with a sad little smile added. “She would have been a real Mummy’s girl, too. But has to put up with her old gran. She’s waiting for me to go with her down to the sea and paddle.”

Evie looked at me. “You said you were going to wear a costume under your dress. Did you?”

“Mmme.”

She smiled at me “In that case, you wouldn’t helping an old lady and take Em down to the sea would you. It would be nice to just sit here with Jenny and read my book. I must admit I get weary pretty quickly walking on the sand these days.”

“No, of course not.” I’m glad I put waterproof make-up on! I reach back to pull the big gold zip ring down.

“Here, let me.”

“Thanks.” Evie un-zips me, and I slip out of my sixties yellow dress.

“That’s a nice bikini.”

I laugh. “Yes. It most importantly covers all that needs to be covered up.” I look down at the white halter-top hiding the girls, but the mesh still leaving them sort of seeable. I turn and grin at her.

“I’m not going to ask if my bum looks big in this.”

Evie laughs and pats my bum as I move to the doors.

“Off with you Darling. Go take that little girl down for a paddle.”

I am halfway down the beach, my mind caught for a moment seeing my feet and red painted toenails walking in the sand when it hits me where I am. There are people on this beach. I’m in just a big bikini. They must be able to see it’s a guy in a bikini. Just as I start to panic inside I reach Emily.
I have to push down my fears and smile at her, dropping to my knees.

“Hi, their sweetheart, want to go for a paddle.” I hold my hand out to her.

Em looks up at me eyes shining with instant excitement, and grabs my hand and we stand up.

To be continued…