Jerry McVey was a decent bloke, but he was different, socially inept, probably autistic and his entire life had been one minor trouble after the last. In spite of being clever, his personality had made school a nightmare for him, his peers and his teachers. None had been more surprised than he that he’d actually managed to finish his A’ levels. University had been a bit easier, but not much. As a adult he was reviled by most, who thought he was a pervert for his habit of staring at women. That he also stared at men, buildings, animals, cars and everything else he saw nobody seemed to acknowledge nor make any allowance for.
He’d been picked up by the police many times as a result of complaints, but years ago they’d rapidly realised he was no peeping tom, he just made women who didn’t know him, and some men though not children, nervous. Children liked him, but were told by their parents to stay away from him. He never complained nor resisted the police, was always polite, and when asked what he was doing they knew he would say with that wide-eyed, child-like look on his face that indicated surprise that they needed to ask when the answer was so obvious, “Just looking.”
They’d never considered charging him with anything, and though he rarely had any money and never had any identification on him when approached they knew where he lived and considered him to be a harmless, not-quite-right, wealthy eccentric, for he stared at policemen, policewomen and police cars too. For years now when they received complaints concerning him, for his own protection, they just took him home and had someone drive his car home if necessary.
The police liked him and considered taking him away from situations he was too innocent to recognise were dangerous to him as one of the better parts of their job, for it was way better than dealing with drunk or high thugs, of which even rural Gloucestershire had its share. Once the police car taking him home had broken down, and after spending five minutes under the bonnet he’d had it running again saying, “It’ll get you back, but with no tools I could only give it a temporary fix. It needs the carburettor servicing. Probably best to get a service exchange carb.”
He was an expert and intelligent DIYer, an even better computer hacker, but an indifferent cook, though he made excellent coffee as many a police officer knew, for Jerry was polite and always invited those who had taken him home in for coffee. When it was quiet many had accepted and been amazed by the interior of his house which seemed to more like a warehouse than a home, for it was one huge storage facility for the stuff he said he was in the process of fixing, though his huge garden which was like an allotment plot was tidy and well maintained.
One Thursday evening in early January, Jerry went to Burger King to buy something to take home to eat. He ate a lot of take away food and preferred take away food or eating out because then he didn’t have to wash up, but not many places made him welcome, so he mostly used ethnic restaurantes where all were welcome and frequent early evening diners like him who were polite, never any trouble and paid without a qualm were particularly welcome and accorded special treatment. He was quite happy to think of himself as without friends, but there were far more people who liked him than he was aware of.
The weather was poor and due to the overcast, leaden sky it had been dark since three, but by the yellow glare of the sodium street lights as he left he witnessed a very young looking obviously homeless girl being chased away by a couple of the staff from the restaurante for searching in the bins for food. Outraged he shouted to the men, “Leave her alone.” Then he said gently to the girl, “Leave that be. Come inside, and I’ll buy you whatever you want.”
It was a suspicious girl who asked, “What do I have to do for it?”
“Nothing. Eat it inside or take it away. I’m taking mine home to eat, and you’re welcome to eat with me in the warm if you like.”
Despite his risky offer, he seemed kind, and genuinely concerned, yet her experiences on the streets had made her wary. She didn’t want to eat in the warmth of the restaurante without her benefactor’s protection for fear of the two men and she couldn’t make him stay, but she was cold, so she was reluctant to take the food outside to eat after she’d been in the warm. Her usual caution was eroded by the cold, and tired and hungry she said, “Okay. Thanks, Mister. What can I have?”
“Whatever you want. I’ve got a couple of burgers with some fries. You hungry?”
She laught and said, “You trying to be funny? I haven’t eaten since yesterday morning, and that was a few cold chips.” [US fries]
She followed him back into the restaurante, and as the two men who had chased her moved to intercept her Jerry said quietly, “If you know what’s good for you I suggest you fuck off, and I won’t ring the papers to get you a shit load of bad publicity for abusing a child.”
The older of the two cringed and said, “Sorry, Jerry, we didn’t realise she was with you.”
In the light inside Jerry saw a waif, a thin little girl, he guessed of six possibly seven years of age, with a dirty face and hands and nondescript, dirty hair tucked back into her parka hood. She was wearing thread bare jeans and her parka had seen better days and didn’t look over warm. Her trainers were out at the toes as were her socks and her toes were black.
The two men disappeared muttering, and it was an amazed and grateful girl who said, “Thanks, Mister.”
“As you just heard, I’m Jerry, and you?”
“Amy. How come they know who you are.” Amy sounded puzzled. “Are you somebody famous?”
Jerry laught and replied, “Hell no. I just eat here a lot, and when I’m feeling lonely I eat in and chat with the staff.” Amy thought Jerry seemed a bit embarrassed as if he’d admitted more than he’d wanted to, but he overcame it and asked, “Can you handle four burgers and a large fries, Amy?”
“Yes, but I’ll save some for tomorrow if that’s okay?”
“No problem. You want any sauce on your burgers?”
“Ketchup please. I like it a lot.”
Jerry turned to the woman serving and said, “Four burgers, Jenny, please, with an extra large fries wrapped up to take out. All twice please. A good squeeze of ketchup on the burgers please because my young friend Amy likes it a lot, and I’d like the second lot wrapped separately please.”
The woman responded to his charity with approval and said to Amy, “You can put as much ketchup on as you want yourself, Dear. Any drinks?”
Jerry said, “No thank you, we’re going home, and I’ll make coffee there.”
When the food was handed over he waved his credit card over the contactless card reader and thanked Jenny again. He gave both parcels to Amy and said, “The other is for tomorrow if you need it. Sorry, I forgot. If you don’t want to eat with me, and I would like you to, I’ll get you a large hot drink of whatever you want. Your call.”
Stunned by his gift Amy said, “I’d like the coffee with you please.”
“Okay. If you’re coming home with me let’s call at Tesco on the way and get you something warm to wear.” Amy just nodded, for, despite her lack of years, she’d met all too many males, and a few females too, who’d wanted to take her clothes off and none who wanted to put any on her. She followed him to an old Land Rover Discovery, and he put his food on the back seat. Amy did like wise. “If you’re hungry eat something now, Amy.”
“No. Eating take away food in a car stinks it up for days. I can wait.”
He drove not to the nearest Tesco, but to a larger supermarket on the edge of town. With a bewildered Amy following he pushed a pound coin into the trolley lock and looking at the overhead signs pushed his trolley towards ‘Girls Clothes’. He looked at Amy sizing her up and into the trolley threw a warm looking knickers and vest set, a pair of thin, woollen socks and pair of thick, boot socks, a pair of black, woolly tights, a pair of jeans, a warm, brushed cotton, checked blouse and a heavy, knitted, woollen jumper. He looked for coats but there were none to be seen remotely near Amy’s size. “Find a pair of decent shoes that fit, Amy.”
A couple of minutes later Amy asked, “May I have these?” She’d found a pair of heavy boots that she considered to be expensive.
“Sure, but get something to wear in the house too.” Amy chose a pair of cheap trainers. “That’s us. Let’s get home while the food is still warm.” Jerry paid for the clothes and two large shopping bags, into which he packed the clothes, and they left. As he grabbed the bags he said, “Put the trolley back, Amy, please, and keep the coin.”
Back in the Discovery, Amy asked, “Why are you doing this for me? I can tell you’re no paedo, scumbag social worker, nor a bloody do-gooder, so what’s in it for you?”
“I had a poor childhood. I’m regarded as a bit weird. I can earn big money, but most of the time don’t because I don’t want a boss. Money doesn’t mean much to me, and right now I’ve got some and don’t need it, but you’ve got none and need it. I’ve no friends and often go weeks without talking to any one, so maybe I just want some one to talk to.”
They were silent, intent in their own thoughts, for the fifteen minute drive, but when Jerry pulled in to the drive Amy whistled and asked, “How many people live here? What’s the rent on a flat in this place?”
“Just me. It’s a house not flats. I own it, don’t owe a penny on it, so there’s no rent. I told you I can earn big money, so I did full time till I paid it off. Then I stopped working full time, and I only do anything now when I’m bored, or I need some cash.” Amy followed him in to the kitchen as he negotiated his way between the high piles of boxes which covered every available surface as well as the floor.
Once in the equally cluttered kitchen he said, “I’ll put the food in the oven to warm a bit. You want to get a bath or a shower and put your clean clothes on? If you do, I’ll put what you’re wearing in the washer and dry them too. I suggest you use one of the spare bedrooms tonight and we talk tomorrow. The one that’s ready is only small, a box room really because the other bedrooms are all full of my spare stuff, and I sleep in the big bedroom. What do you think?”
Amy was overwhelmed and tired and had decided she could trust Jerry, so just said, “Okay.” It was comforting being able to be a child and let an adult make the decisions, even if, she considered, it was only for a while.
Jerry turned the oven on to warm and put the food with a couple of plates in before saying, “I’ll show you where every thing is. Grab these.” He passed her one of the bags of her new clothes and took the other himself. They went upstairs, passing yet more clutter on their way, where he shewed her the obviously unused ‘box room’ which was about fifteen feet by twelve and had a bay window with seats looking out over a large garden with half a dozen out buildings illuminated by the driveway lighting.
Jerry dumped the bag of clothes he was carrying on the bed, and, as he drew the curtains, Amy noticed the room had a double bed, a wardrobe and two chests of drawers. The bed was flanked by a pair of bedside cabinets, one had four drawers the other a drawer at the top and a cupboard below. None of the furniture matched, and the room was much bigger than Jerry had led her to believe. She thought it was just like Jerry, ill matched, poorly coördinated and bigger than expected.
Jerry turned a knob on one end of the central heating radiator and said, “I’ll turn the heating on in the bathroom too. The rooms will be warm in a few minutes. The system is very efficient since I redesigned it with two new pumps. The bathroom is over there.” Jerry pointed through the door to the left. “It has a shower and a bath. If you shower let the water run warm. It takes about half a minute. I sleep in a bedroom at the other end of the house facing the back which has an en suite bathroom. I never use this one, so the water may run rusty coloured for a minute or two. There are towelling robes on the back of the door for the guests I never have. Soap, shampoo and towels are all in there. There’re even some new toothbrushes and unopened tubes of toothpaste. Leave your new clothes here, and I’ll get some scissors to cut the labels off with. I’ll leave you a comb on the bed. Sorry I don’t have a hair brush, this is a woman free zone. I’ve never had a wife nor a girlfriend, and before you ask I’ve never had a boyfriend either. Coffee, tea or cocoa?”
“Coffee please, black with no sugar.”
“Unusual! For some one of your age I mean.”
“I’ve got used to it, and now I like it.”
“Well you’ll probably like my coffee because I buy dark, roast beans from a shop on the high street and grind them myself. Smells wonderful and tastes even better. Give me a shout when you’re getting dressed and I’ll dish up. Try the boots on for size too. If they fit I can bin the receipt.”
Back downstairs, Jerry wondered what the hell he was getting himself into, but was glad Amy wasn’t going to be out in the cold for at least a while. He was watching the news on the TV in the kitchen when he heard her shout, “I’m getting dressed,” so he turned the TV off and took the plates and food out of the oven and poured coffee.
He was stunned by the change in Amy. Still a rail thin waif, the clothes were all a half reasonable fit and emphasised a frame that could clearly stand a bit of feeding, but the dirt was gone and her raggedly cut hair was strawberry blonde that fell in natural waves past her shoulders. Her face was elfin thin with bright green eyes he’d not noticed before, she wasn’t a pretty girl in any conventional sense, but she was beautiful.
“Well hello, Gorgeous! Who’d have thought you’d have cleaned up so well after a bath.”
“To be honest it’s safer being dirty out there, but I couldn’t resist being clean for once. It’s much nicer smelling of that soap, even if it isn’t very fragrant, than smelling of the streets. Can we eat? I’m starving. The boots are a good fit, thanks.”
“Good. Help yourself. I’ll get the ketchup, brown sauce, salt and vinegar.”
There was little conversation as Amy ate, and ate, and ate, and ate. Jerry noticed that she put both her hands round her coffee cup when she wasn’t eating. She noticed his gaze and said, “Warmth is a luxury out there. Even the heat from a cup isn’t to be wasted. It could be the difference between life and death on a cold night.” Four burgers and an extra large fries disappeared, with copious extra ketchup, washed down by half a dozen cups of coffee which she said was, “Excellent! The best I’ve ever tasted.”
Jerry couldn’t believe she could hold that much food, but he asked, “Ice cream with tinned strawberries?”
“Please.” And Amy ate an enormous portion of that too.
Amy was yawning and nodding, and Jerry said, “Come on up to bed with you. You can’t keep your eyes open. We’ll talk tomorrow. Can you make it on your own?”
Amy nodded, but staggered as she rose from the table. Jerry carried her to bed and she was asleep as he removed her shoes, socks, jeans and blouse and put her to bed in her under clothes. He picked up her old clothes and checked the pockets, but bar a tissue and the pound coin they were empty. He put the tissue and the coin on a bedside cabinet and her clothes in the washing machine. The shoes and socks he put in the bin.
Jerry was up at six, and even though it was dark he walked round his garden with a mug of coffee staring at things he knew were there but which he couldn’t really see, as he did every morning. He removed Amy’s clothes from the washing machine and put them in the dryer. He started to prepare breakfast, porridge with honey, toast with marmalade and more coffee. He didn’t expect Amy to wake till noon, so was surprised to see her up, washed and dressed at quarter to eight. He noticed she was wearing her boots, pointed to the table in the kitchen and said, “Sit. Breakfast. Porridge, toast, and coffee. Okay?”
“Sounds wonderful. How did I get to bed?”
“I carried you and put you in bed. You were asleep before you left the table. How you feeling now?”
“I don’t know. When do I have to go?”
“You don’t. Not if you don’t want to.”
“Why?”
“Well the way I see it is you’re not quite as cheap to keep as a dog, but a lot less trouble, and conversation with a dog is decidedly limited.”
“Stop it. Answer the question.”
“I did. I suspect the authorities will find out eventually and then it will hit the fan, but we can deal with that when it happens. You want to go back out into the cold?”
“No.”
“I thought about it a lot last night and I don’t want you to go, so there’s no problem with us is there? But we need to talk. I need to know enough about you to be able to protect you best, and you need to know about me so you understand how I live because it’s not like any one else I know of. None of my family ever wanted anything to do with me till they thought I was wealthy. When they realised I only own the house, have no money and only work when I have to they went back to not wanting anything to do with me again. I’m never likely to get a wife or a family, and have no friends, so if you can put up with me being the way I am I’d be pleased if you stayed.” He paused a while and said, “Sometimes I get lonely. I’d like the company.”
“I’m nine, ten next month and I’ve been on the streets for three years. I grew up a long ways away, and when I ran away I left the area so no one would recognise me. I’m clever, or at least that’s what they said when I was in school, and for sure I’m clever than anyone I met out on the streets, not that that’s saying much.”
Jerry asked, “So what are we going to do about an education, school?”
“I was expelled from two for fighting when kids were mean and tried to bully me, and in any case I already knew more than they could teach me, so school is pointless. I’ve been teaching myself ever since, and I think I’m doing okay.”
“Tried to bully you?”
“Yeah, but after fighting off my older brothers and my mother’s boyfriends, who all wanted to fuck me, the kids at school were a push over. I could take em out at least eight at a time, mind my knife helped.” As she said that she pulled out a five inch blade from her waistband and passed it to him hilt first.
Jerry looked at it closely and checked it with his thumb, it was very sharp, before handing it back also, to Amy’s approval, hilt first. “Good steel. That’s an expensive Finnish made hunter’s skinning knife. Where did you hide that last night? Because I know it wasn’t in your clothes.”
“I didn’t. I never go anywhere without it. I had it in the bath with me, just in case. I don’t know why, but I left it under my pillow before I came down to eat. That’s the first time since I got it it’s been out of my reach. I took it off some idiot who threatened me with it. Idiot with knife nil. Amy with house brick one.”
He asked very gently, “How old were you when they started abusing you?”
“I can’t remember ever not being hit every day, but you mean fucked don’t you?”
“Yes, and we’ll get you to a doctor to check for STDs tomorrow, and a general health check too while we’re at it.”
To his amazement Amy laught and said, “There’s nothing wrong with me a few good meals won’t put right.” She blushed and said, “I’m a virgin, and I intend to stay that way till I find someone I want to give it to. Someone who loves me as much as I love him. I’d appreciate it if you kept that to yourself, cos it would make the bastards want to fuck me even more if they knew they’d be the first, so I make out I’m a street whore, and say it itches. It’s not true, but even the paedos lose interest fast when they hear that.”
“Well, may be it’ll be a good idea to have you to a doctor for the tests anyway then you can say I made you go to be checked out to make your story more credible.”
“Yeah. You’re pretty sharp aren’t you, Jerry?”
“So they say, but how the hell with your background did you manage to remain a virgin?”
“Bout four years ago one of my brothers woke up to find me trying to cut his balls off with a bread knife. He’ll have a three inch scar for ever, and after that they were afraid to go to sleep. I told them, and they knew I meant it, that if they touched me again I’d take their eyes out before I cut their balls off. It’s a grim world for a blind man with no balls to scratch.” Jerry chuckled in agreement. “My mum’s boyfriends were stronger and more dangerous, and after I knifed one of them who’d managed to pull my knickers down I reckoned the streets were safer. That was the last time I wore a skirt, and I soon found some safe places, mostly derelict factories where an adult was too big to follow me in the ventilation ducts and where I could set up booby traps.”
Jerry asked, “So how did you learn any thing?”
“I can’t remember not being able to read and write, and I don’t think anyone taught me. I read newspapers, books and anything else I can get my hands on. The second hand book stalls originally gave me tatty text books, and I have a good memory, so I only need to read something once, and because I always returned them within three days at most now they let me borrow what I want in return for helping on the stalls for an hour or two. They buy me a hot meal too, but they’re only there on Saturdays.
“Then there’re the computers in the library. Once the librarians discovered I was going on learning sites not playing games they let me on for free, but I have to be on and off in half an hour, cos some of them ring Social Services, but I can learn a lot in half an hour. I got picked up by social workers a few times, but I gave them the slip, and any way they don’t know anything about me. Amy is just a name I picked a few months ago, it’s probably time to change names again, I’ll may be use Georgia for a while.”
“What are you learning now?”
“Mostly A’ level maths and sciences, but any thing else I take a fancy to along with some university maths. Why?”
“I can help you with some of that. I did A’ level sciences and maths and have a degree in maths, but we need to get you a computer of your own. We’ll set it up wi fi on my router, and I’ll get some maths and other software for you. Okay?”
“Are you any good at maths, Jerry, really good I mean? Cos I’m really into it.”
“No, not really. I got a first from Imperial, but I’m no genius. What I’m best at is hacking and fixing things, mechanical, electric, electronic, whatever. I can make just about anything work better than new. So we need a broken up to date computer, preferably for nothing, cos as always I’m nearly broke, for me to fix, and you’ll have access to as much learning as you want. Give us a bit of time to figure out a safe id for you, and we’ll get you registered with the O.U. to get a degree. After all if you’re going to learn it you may as well have some thing to prove it. When it hits the fan we’re going to have a hard time getting the authorities to allow you to live with me, because though I’ve never done time, or even ended up in court, I’m regarded as an antisocial misfit, probably cos I am. A bit of documented education could be helpful.”
“Jerry, could I have a laptop?”
“Sure, they’re just as easy to get hold of as towers or desktops, probably easier now. Why?”
“I don’t really know why I’d like one, but I’ve never had anything decent of my own, and a decent laptop would be…” Amy started crying, not sobbing, just tears running off her face.
Jerry’s life had not been as bad as Amy’s, but, a social misfit from birth, he’d never been loved, never had anyone to love, none had ever protected him and none had ever regarded him as their protector. His eyes were moist as he folded Amy into his arms and kissed her forehead. “We’ll get you a smoking hot laptop, Love. I know a man who’ll give us a top of the range model that needs fixing if I fix a dozen or two for him. He buys job lots of anything that gets returned under guarantee. If I offer to take a couple of dozen and fix them in return for my pick of the batch he’ll jump at it. Free of charge, he’ll give us a case too, a really girly one if you like. He’ll let you choose what ever you fancy. You know, pink with kittens, or whatever. Would you like that?”
Amy sniffed and said, “Yeah. My very own girly laptop.” Amy hesitated before continuing, “Can I call you Dad?”
Jerry choked but managed to say, “Yes. I’d like that, Love.” After a moment’s thought he said, “I’ve just remembered that I saw an ad some where that said Asda have a sale on women’s and children’s clothes this week and next, or maybe it was last week and this one. You need some more clothes, a decent winter coat, wellies for the garden, a couple of pairs of shoes, socks, underwear, jeans, dresses, skirts, blouses, jumpers and a couple of nighties or pyjamas. You’re a girl, and it’s not right that you have to look and dress like a boy. If you want to wear trousers that’s different, but you should have the choice. I’ve got about four hundred quid, but you can’t spend it all because I want fifty to take us out to dinner tonight, but you can blow the rest. Okay?”
“I like being a girl, so can I have a pair of heels and some tights too? And a hair brush and things and lipstick?”
“Yeah, but best you get the tights from Raj on the street market tomorrow, he’s cheaper than the shops and he has a much wider choice of everything. I’ve welded the tubes on his stall frames for him a few times, so he’ll give you a good deal. You might want to look on the street market for shoes too, unless there’re some you like in Asda. You need some stationary and writing stuff too. We don’t need to get you a printer because you can wi fi to the ones in my office. If there’re any other things you need we’ll get them as we think of them. There’re a couple of stalls on the street market that sell cosmetics and probably hair brushes too. And I want a box of computer paper from Abdul too, he’s the guy you’ll probably get a hairbrush from.”
“Fifty pounds for dinner‽ Where are we eating?”
“I thought we’d celebrate and go to an Armenian restaurante I know. The owner and his family are decent folk. I fix stuff for them now and again, and they’ll give us a good table. You never know the meal might even be free if he needs something fixing.”
“What we celebrating?”
“Us. And they’ll be happy to serve you a glass of wine if you like. No one there will be bothered, but best not to tell any one. If you talk to any one about the meal, you had red grape juice. Okay?”
“Okay, Dad. You going to tell me about you now?”
“Well, I’m thirty-two, and as you know I’ve never married nor had a girl friend. I’m not gay, but although I wouldn’t mind a woman in my life I just can’t get on with them because they can’t cope with the way I am. I don’t want or need a steady income. I own this house and about an acre and a half of garden. I wanted it for the privacy, but the garden got too much for me, and I’m not into gardening. There’re four old blokes who live locally who look after the garden in return for growing fruit and veg here, kind of like a private allotment.
“I met Stan first. Some one told him I fix stuff, and he brought me a spade that needed a new handle and a pair of secateurs to sharpen. He’d got them at a boot sale, cos his own had been stolen when his shed on the Council allotments had been vandalised. One thing led to another, and they provide me with most of the vegetables I eat. Denis keeps bees at the back, and Joseph has some poultry, so I get eggs and honey for free too. Paul’s wife made the marmalade you’ve been eating.
“I earnt the money to buy this place by fixing computer security issues for various financial institutions, sort of like banks. They’d all have me on their payroll for a huge salary, but I’d rather be broke and free. I prefer having to decide for myself when I need to work rather than having to ask for permission to take a holiday. When I need money I can easily earn it, but most of the time I don’t bother. I’ll need to earn a bit to cover your initial costs, but that’s okay.
“There’s a decent girl’s bike in the garage I got out of a skip and fixed. It’s kind of lilac coloured. I was going to sell it, but if you want it it’s yours. Anything else you want let me know, and I’ll sort it out for you. I know loads of folk with second hand shops or market stalls that I fix stuff for, and I have a fully kitted out workshop to the side of the garage, and can reach both under the enclosed walkways, so I don’t get wet if it’s raining. I have a blacksmiths work shop and a foundry for pouring castings. That’s melting metal and pouring it into moulds. I do a lot of photography and woodwork too, but mostly I fix things rather than make new ones. I’m restoring an old soft top sports car at the moment, amongst a load of other things too. That’s what I enjoy and for some reason it drives women crazy.
“Finish your breakfast, and we’ll go shopping. If we meet anyone who knows me, you’re my daughter who’s come to live with me. We answer as few questions as possible. If it comes to it you’ve come to live with me cos of your mum’s new boyfriend. No one will ask for details about that in case it’s not nice, so you won’t have to make that up. Just think about the one that pulled your knickers down, and the look on your face will shut them up. We don’t give any more details than that. Okay? You don’t have a accent from anywhere in particular, but we need a background a long way from where you came. Don’t tell me where that was, cos it’s better I don’t know. Was it a long way from London?”
“Yeah. A bloody long way.”
“Good, and mind your language young lady. You’re my daughter now, Amy Charlotte McVey, who lives in a nice part of Gloucestershire, not some foul mouthed gutter snipe. If asked and we can’t avoid answering we say you mum lives in London, cos there’re so many people live there with every kind of accent there is it’ll be impossible to trace you.”
“Okay, I’ve got all that. Why Charlotte?”
“I’m Jeremy Charles so you get to be Amy Charlotte. You can say you were named after me if it ever comes up.”
“You’re good at this aren’t you?”
“Well, I’ve never done it before, but you were the one who said I was sharp.”
“I’ll wash the dishes before we go shopping.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“Yes I do. If I’m living here, and you’re going to be my dad then since you’ve no wife I’m the woman of the house, and I have to look after you too, okay?” Amy had a serious look on her face, and Jerry realised that for her the exchange was necessary.
“Okay. Will you object if I find you a dish washer?”
“Course not. That will give me more time to clean this place up. You live like pig you know. I’ve seen streets cleaner than this kitchen. You got a vacuum cleaner?”
“Yes.”
“When did you last use it, or clean the cooker?”
“Without a blush, Jerry replied, “I never got round to making the hoover work, and I cleaned the cooker last year some time when the mould got to be higher than the pans.”
Amy knew she was being teased, but said, “Gross. Fix the hoover, and leave the cleaning to me, and I want some nice soap too. How much a week can I have for housekeeping? To buy cleaning stuff and food I mean?”
“I don’t know. How much do you want?”
“Fifty, and I’ll keep the receipts and do accounts. Any left over money I’ll put in that jug. If I need more I’ll tell you. Okay?”
“Fine. Think about what you want as an allowance for yourself for clothes and other stuff. Anything big I’ll get, and I’ll buy all your stuff to start with including any books you need. Okay? But you need something to give you some independence, so you decide how much.”
“Yes. Sweet. I’ll wash up and write a shopping list of cleaning stuff that I need right now.” Amy gazed round the kitchen and continued, “I don’t need much to make a start, but oven cleaner, scouring pads, a plastic bucket and a pair of rubber gloves are right at the top of the list.”
“Right. I’ll empty all the junk out of the back of the Rover while you wash up. Ready to go in fifteen?”
“You are joking. Give me half an hour.”
“Okay.” When Jerry returned, Amy was ready to go and the sink and drainers looked spotless. “Nice. Thanks, Amy.”
Jerry was delighted at the pleasure Amy took in buying even a pair of socks. Jerry could tell from the look in her eyes that she wanted the deep blue brushed velvet dress that was on a dummy, so he asked an assistant for one in Amy’s size. “Dad, it’s too expensive!”
“Don’t be silly, Love. You have to have something nice for when we go out. The only issue is finding a pair of shoes to match.” Jerry turned to the assistant and said, “Amy has just come to live with me, and she has virtually no clothes here. She needs just about everything. Can you help? I’ve got a bit more than three hundred quid.”
“Oh it won’t take anywhere near that much. When you said everything, just what are we talking about, sir?”
“Everything. Underwear, skirts, blouses, jumpers, nightwear, jeans, a coat and shoes as well.”
The woman, who was in her mid thirties, smiled and said to Amy, “Don’t worry, dear. We can have you fixed up in no time.” She turned to Jerry and said in a whisper, “I take it things have been a little traumatic recently, and I need to go gently with Amy. Ex-wife issues?”
Jerry just nodded and said, “Yes. Thanks.”
“I’m Anne by the way. I suggest we concentrate on colder weather wear because at her age by the time the summer arrives Amy will probably have grown out of anything you buy now.”
Amy was crying when she came out of the changing rooms wearing the dress, “Mum never gave me anything like this, Dad. It’s wonderful, but I can’t fasten it.”
Jerry zipped up the dress, and Amy put on the shoes that Anne held out. The shoes had a slight heel, and as Amy looked in the full length mirror, she said, “I feel like a princess, Dad.”
“You look like one, Love. What else have you got to try on?”
“That pile there,” Amy replied pointing.
Jerry had resignation in his voice when he said, “I suppose I’ll get used to this, Amy.”
Anne laught and said, “It’s one of the joys of being a single dad with daughters. I think that’s a major reason Keith was so desperate to marry me. He was a divorcee with custody of all four. Two of each, he’s good with the boys, but was very relieved to hand over the girls to my care, especially the clothes shopping.”
Two hours later Amy’s rather more than two hundred pounds worth of new clothes had been loaded into the Discovery, and they went to book a table at the restaurante. “The place is popular and fills up quickly over the weekend, Amy.”
“Jerry! You must be a mind reader. I have work for you, my friend. Not urgent you understand, but if you could call on Sunday that would be excellent.”
“Ylli, this is my daughter, Amy. She lives with me now, and we wish a table tonight to celebrate that.”
“But of course, Jerry. The corner one you like?”
“Thank you, yes. I’ll come round on Sunday. Ah, a request, my friend? A glass of a good red for us both, you know the red grape juice variety.”
“But of course! You are aware it is a criminal offence to sell alcohol to a minor, so it will be a gift, along with the meal. We can settle our transactions next week. Your table for eight o’clock?”
“Please.”
“I shall be delighted to meet you again, Amy, later this evening.”
Going back to the car after having been bowed out of the restaurante Amy asked, “Is he for real, Dad?”
“Ylli? Oh yes. He learnt English and about England from old movies in Albania. He’s a decent man, and Juliana his wife is a lovely lady. They have fourteen kids, maybe more now, it’s kind of hard to keep track. The older ones work in the restaurante.”
“Wow! Fourteen kids.”
Amy felt very grown up in her new clothes, and was impressed when she and her father were escorted to their table by a smiling and very tall young man who pulled her chair out for her and helped her to be seated before lighting the scented candles on their table. Jerry told her, “I think he’s Ylli’s eldest.” She was even more impressed by their six course meal, and despite her glass of wine was not in the least tipsy. “The wine aids digestion of the food as well as complementing the taste, and the food helps the body deal with the alcohol. Albanian cuisine at this level is very sophisticated, Amy.”
“Was Ylli always a chef, Dad?”
“No. He was a bus driver before coming to England, but I think all Albanians must have a love affair with food. Juliana does a lot of the cooking, but Ylli is a superb cook too.”
Most of the food she’d never even heard of, but she enjoyed every bite. Juliana, a tall, large framed woman who was even bigger due to her obvious pregnancy, was delighted by Amy. “It is a pleasure to see a girl enjoying her food so. It makes the effort that has gone into preparing it worth every bit of the trouble. So many pick at food these days concerned about their figures. They should enjoy to the full what they eat and then fast. Islam makes such very easy.”
“Dad, when did you order the food?”
“I didn’t, Love. I always let Ylli provide what he thinks is best, and he’s surprised me many a time, but never disappointed me.”
“Half a glass of sweet, white grape juice with your pudding, Amy?” Ylli had an absolutely straight face as he spoke.
Amy knew what Ylli was suggesting, and she looked at her dad for permission. “Will I like it, Dad?”
“Certainly, Love.”
What Amy hadn’t anticipated was the live singing, all in Albanian, and music which she enjoyed.
“Is there always music, Dad?”
“There’s only music on Friday and Saturday nights. As a result a lot of the diners are Albanian on those evenings. Some travel a considerable distance to eat here. That’s why you have to book a table.”
At the end of their meal two of Ylli’s daughters who were not much older than Amy served them coffee in tiny cups and tiny, very dark, bitter chocolates. Ylli said conspiratorially, “The coffee is a very traditional Albanian coffee house blend, but I confess the chocolate is made here in Britain from Columbian beans. It is ninety-five percent cocoa solids and absolutely the finest desert chocolate money can buy anywhere in the world.”
As they left Amy noticed they were escorted out by Ylli himself as though they were honoured guests. He presented her with a red rose from the vase on their table as he said good night. The other diners received similar treatment, but they were escorted out by one of Ylli’s sons who presented the women with their roses too.
“Good dinner, Love?”
“That was the most amazing experience of my whole life, Dad. What will it probably cost in the end?”
“Probably nothing other than two or three hours of my time. Ylli rarely has anything serious to fix. Usually it’s just a loose wire on a kitchen appliance, or a filter that needs changing on a cooker hood, but he believes I’m the only guy who’ll fix them without ripping him off. He had some bad experiences when he first came to this country. If it’s a more serious job I’ll just do it anyway. He’ll pay for any parts required and I’ll not worry about my time because it’ll work out in the end.”
On Saturday they hit the street market after a substantial full English breakfast cooked by Amy.
“How on Earth did you learn to cook like this, Amy?”
“What’s to learn about a fry up? You’ve got a grill, an oven, a frying pan and a toaster. I used to read the menus outside the Little Chef, and dream about eating their Olympic breakfast. I know what’s in it and I’ve even seen them cooking it. Piece of cake.”
At the market Jerry said to a tall man in traditional Sikh dress, “Hello, Raj. My daughter, Amy, now lives with me. She requires some tights.”
“But of course. The box on the end of the stall, Amy.” Raj pointed to a large cardboard box before shouting in his own language to a young boy who had just finished serving a customer. “My son is just going to the van for a box I just bought. I’ve not looked through it myself yet so there could be all sorts of things in it, but you are welcome to see if it contains anything you wish, Amy. Jerry, I have just bought a generator. I know it doesn’t work, but it was nearly free. I’ll drop it off at your house this evening. If you can make it work that’s good. If not text me to look for another and you keep it for spares, okay?”
“Sure no problem. Is it Chinese?”
“Probably, but I wouldn’t know.”
Quarter of an hour later Amy had six pairs of tights and Raj said, “Give me a pound and take these. If they are any good to you they are a gift, if not give them away or throw them away.” Raj handed her a pair of warm, woolly, red tights with a small hole in the toe where the stitching had missed joining the two sides.
Jerry gave Amy two ten pound notes and said, “I’ll catch up with you at Raj’s in a hour. Enjoy yourself. I’m going to see if I can find some work, cos we could do with the money. If you want to buy anything, introduce yourself as ‘Fixit Jerry’s daughter’. You’ll get a better price that way, they all know me.”
Before she met up with Jerry Amy had bought her hairbrushes and a cosmetics case full of all sorts of wondrous things, from a man who had bowed when she introduced herself and said, “And I am Ali, Amy.”
The case had a label on it that read £6, but Ali let her have it for four. He asked where her dad was. “He’s looking for work. I’m meeting him at Raj’s stall in a bit.”
“Tell him to see me. I have need of him, Amy. A needle and red thread to mend your tights? Here take these. No charge. Just tell your Dad to see me, okay?” Amy was amazed by her experience. All these traders clearly thought well of her dad.
Just before she was leaving a shoe stall after having bought two pairs of shoes where she’d been given a pair of bedroom slippers she was approached by a European man in his late teens or early twenties. She recognised the type immediately, a pervert, and regretted having left her knife at home. The man had touched her shoulder and she was about to run and start screaming when a huge middle aged Asian man wearing khaki robes that reached to the ground spun the younger man around by his shoulder and grabbed him by the throat. “That young lady is the daughter of a friend, my friend. If you touch her again you will surely die. Understand? I suggest you leave and don’t ever come back. All here know and recognise you. Accidents happen all the time, and no one would miss you.”
He squeezed the man’s throat and pushed him away from himself. The man collapsed in a heap and the large man slowly and deliberately kicked him in the ribs. Before the younger man had managed to recover and run away he’d been kicked by at least a dozen elderly Asian men all of who without saying a word kicked him once, and only once, before leaving. “I am Abdul, little one, a friend of your father. That will not bother you again.”
“Who was he. What was that all about?”
“He was no one. He will not be back. Where is your father?”
“I’m meeting him at Raj’s stall in a few minutes. He’s looking for work.”
“I shall escort you, and we and Raj can await him together.”
Abdul spoke to Raj in an Asian language and both men seemed angry, though not with each other.
“Are you all right, Amy?” Raj asked.
“Yes. Who was he? I know his type. I put a knife in one once.”
Before Raj could answer, she heard her dad’s voice say, “Hello, Raj, Abdul. I was looking for you, Abdul. What’s going on?”
“Peterson must be out early. He was approaching Amy. I convinced him it was not a good idea.”
Jerry looked at Amy and she said, “He only touched my shoulder, Dad, but I wished I’d not left my knife at home. I’m okay. Truly.”
“Thank you, Abdul. If he’s out early it’ll be out subject to conditions. I’ll ring the police, tell them what happened, and he’ll be back inside as soon as they find him. Thanks again.”
“I was my privilege to help. If he returns here we’ll know, and we won’t ring the police. However, you said you were looking for me, Jerry. Business?”
“Yes. I want a box of A4 computer paper and work if you’ve got any.”
“Dad, Ali, three stalls down, gave me a needle and thread to mend my tights with and said to tell you to see him. I think he’s got some work for you.”
Jerry looked to where she was pointing and said, “I’ll see him before we go home. You got anything for me, Abdul?”
“A crate of power tools. I’ve no idea if they work or if they’re safe. Just do what you can.”
“You got them here?”
“In the van. Why?”
Jerry took his keys out of his pocket, handed them to Abdul, pointed and said, “My Rover’s round the corner. Have one of your lads put them in the back with the paper. Remind them to lock it will you. I’ll be talking to Ali, so send the keys there.”
“I will. Till Peterson’s back inside, Jerry, guard Amy well. We shall meet again, little one. Have a look on my stall next week, for I shall have many things you may be interested in.”
Jerry and Amy walked to Ali’s stall both deep in thought. “Ah, Jerry! I have twenty or so washing machines that need your attention. They’re at the warehouse. When will you have the time?”
“I can’t do them all at once, Ali. I have to keep other customers happy too, but I can manage two or three a week. Maybe more if other work dries up. That okay?”
“Excellent, my friend, for I shan’t be able to move them on any faster than that.”
They were on their way back to Abdul’s stall when one of his sons met them to return Jerry’s car keys. Back at the Discovery, Jerry said, “I don’t want to ring the police about Peterson. He’s a paedophile who’s never been found guilty of any major crime, but I don’t want you to be involved because they’ll ask too many questions. So I’ll just say I saw him approaching a young girl. They’ll do the rest.”
“How come you all know him, Dad?”
“He grew up round here and was known as a pervert even before he left school. The entire neighbourhood knows him. You heard Abdul, folk round here won’t ring the police. They’ll deal with the situation, and if he’s not careful he’ll end up as dog food.”
On the way home Jerry pulled into a garage to fill up with diesel. After paying Amy was surprised to see him walk across the road rather than coming back to the car. She understood when she saw him speaking to a couple of police officers. On his return he told her, “That was unnecessary. He’s already wanted for breaking his bond. They have photos of him in a primary school playground taken yesterday afternoon. They were however pleased to be told he was on the street market half an hour ago. Say nothing because they shouldn’t have told me that, okay?”
“Okay.”
“I think I’ll work on the car when we get home, Love. You got any plans?”
“Well, you haven’t got me a laptop yet, but I’d like to watch some Youtube make up tutorials. Could I use one of your computers?”
“Sure, I’ll set a laptop up on your dressing table. That way you can watch and do at the same time.”
It wasn’t long before the odd couple came to love each other deeply. Amy couldn’t understand why women thought her dad difficult. Sure he was untidy and hopeless at keeping the house clean, but once she’d gone over everything once it was no effort to keep things spotless. The only thing that puzzled her was his workshops were immaculately organised, and he cleaned all mess up as fast as he made it, but that was her dad, so she kept the house the same. Anything she wanted, roller blades, a bigger fridge, a deep freezer, he provided and they enjoyed spending time together. She enjoyed funfairs and cycling and Jerry liked hill walking, so he acquired a bike and they alternated enjoying each other’s pleasure and negotiated what their next leisure activity would be.
Neither had ever ice skated before, but seeing some ice dancing on the television they thought they’d try it, and it became a monthly event they both enjoyed, so rather than hiring them they bought their own skates. When she wanted to go swimming at the local pool Jerry bought a pair of Bermudas and had to work hard to explain that the thong bottomed bikini she wanted was neither appropriate nor safe, not even for the beach. It was the latter that convinced her, so they bought a much more appropriate one piece swimming costume for Amy to go swimming in and the inappropriate bikini for her to sunbathe in the garden in ready for when the warm weather arrived.
Amy had been studying all morning and decided she would break for lunch. Not finding her dad in the house she went looking for him. She found him in his work shop working on renewing the fabric of the fold down roof of his sports car which he wanted ready for the summer so they could take a holiday driving round Scotland staying in bed and breakfast hotels. Amy was fascinated by what he was so passionate about: fixing things. It was his engineering workshop that fascinated her most, so because it was her dad’s passion it became hers. She researched the internet concerning machining, and though nowhere near as skilled as her dad she rapidly learnt orders of magnitude more theory than he knew.
One day Jerry came across her ruck sack and never having seen it before he asked Amy about it. “I bought it on Saturday. It’s for when I have to make a run for it and live on the streets again. I was going to put it in the foundry so I can get it without having to enter the house, or be seen getting it.”
Jerry was clearly upset and asked, “Why? Your home is here with me now.”
“Till the Social workers fuck it all up for us. I’m not going into foster care, Dad. I’ve told you what it’s like. Most of the kids I met on the streets that had been in care, boys as well as girls, had been raped, beaten and starved. That’s what would have happened to me if I’d stayed at home. If Social Services say I have to go into a foster home, and sooner or later I’m betting they will, I’m going back on the streets, and my ruck sack will make life a whole lot easier. I’ve saved a bit from my allowance, so at least I’ll be able to eat for a while.”
A few days later Jerry gave her a bundle of five pound notes, a purse full of pound coins and a small carrier bag from Boots the chemist. He said, “There’s five hundred there for your ruck sack, I thought coins and fivers would be safer than than flashing twenties, and there’s some women’s stuff from Boots for when you need them. We need to plan how we keep in touch when you’re out there and how I can get money, clothes and stuff to you without you being caught.
“I suggest we start with a stash in the foundry, and when you run I’ll check it every day and replace every thing you take if we don’t get the chance to talk. I’ll rig a pair of phones you can use to let me know you’re here. I'll set them up with a different ring tone from the outside line, so if there’s anyone else in the house they’ll be unaware of its significance. You stay hidden till I find you, okay? You can leave your clothes in the rags box, and I’ll wash them for you and put them in one of the cupboards. The hair dye will make your hair less noticeable, and it’s got to be better than whatever was on your hair when we met.”
“That all sounds sensible.” Amy looked in the bag to see tampons and pads suitable for a girl. There were also some packets of nondescript brown hair colour “Thanks, Dad. The hair dye will make me look really different. I hadn’t thought about periods, but I suppose it will happen soon. I must have started puberty cos I’m getting a bit of pubic hair and my breasts have started to grow. They’re a bit sore sometimes.”
Amy threw herself into his arms and kissed him. “I don’t need them yet, but I’d like some bras. Can we go this afternoon? I can’t go tomorrow, cos Stan’s coming round in the morning at ten to redecorate my room and I want to help him strip the wallpaper. He’s taking me to B&Q after lunch to find some wallpaper and paint. And as soon as my room is done I’ve promised to help Paul mulch the currants and gooseberries. Janet is going to teach me how to make black currant jam and red currant jelly from fruit she froze last year at their house.”
“Not this afternoon if you want the housekeeping money because I have to fix some stuff. You got enough cash for B&Q?”
“Yeah. I don’t need a lot, and I’ve got my allowance and a good bit of house keeping money left over in the jug. Stan reckons for about fifty I’ll find a wallpaper I like and a tin of whatever colour paint I fancy. He said he’s got brushes and all the tools he needs. He’s even got a machine that makes steam to strip paper off with.”
“Okay. Tell you what. We can go to the supermarket after we eat tonight, or if you like we could eat out after the supermarket?”
“Yeah. Okay. You do whatever you need to this afternoon, and I’ll hoover upstairs and help Joseph with the hens. He’s killing two and going to shew me how to pluck and gut them. I’ll prepare ours first thing tomorrow for the freezer. Lets go to Asda, cos they’ve nice stuff in the George range, and it’s not too expensive, and then we can eat at the Jade Palace round the corner. I know it’s a bit shabby, but it’s clean, the food is the best, and it’s cheap. You can legally take your own drink in now if you like, and it’s easy to park there.”
“Okay. I like the food there. How did you know about the drink, Amy?”
“It was in The Courier last week. They’ve got a licence to sell booze now, but they specifically said you can take your own and they’ll provide a glass with no corkage charge, whatever that is. I meant to look it up, but forgot.”
“They must see themselves in competition with the Italian and French restaurantes, who charge corkage, anything up to twelve quid a bottle. They say it’s for the service, washing up the glasses and making sure the bottle is served at the correct temperature and opened correctly. I won’t eat anywhere that charges corkage, cos I ain’t paying twelve quid for the privilege of a renting a glass to drink a bottle of wine that cost less than a fiver and has a screw cap not a cork. Mind in those kind of places you can’t get a bottle of anything for less than twenty-five quid.”
“You’re having me on aren’t you, Dad?”
“No. Honest. Corkage can be anything from a fiver to fifteen quid a bottle. It can work out bloody dear at a wedding if you buy the wine yourself, not that I’d know from personal experience. Anyway, now you’ve put the idea in my head, I fancy the egg drop chicken soep with prawn crackers, Cantonese spare ribs, sweet and sour king prawn with egg fried rice, oyster mushrooms and all the trimmings, and I’ll pick up a couple of bottles of Coors at Asda. What do you fancy, Amy?”
“The same as you only I’ll have sweet and sour pork again with straw mushrooms and crispy seaweed. The batter there is really crispy and they cut the rind of the pork and turn it into crackling before they batter it with the meat. I know the seaweed is really just dark cabbage but it was really good when I tried it last time we went there. I’d like to try a bottle of that beer too. Will I like it?”
“Probably, but I suggest you try mine first, and we’ll get you something else as well that we know you like. If you like the Coors I’ll open another, and if you don’t I’ll drink it. A can of dry blackthorn maybe?”
“No, not this time. I’ll get a bottle of Theakston’s old Peculier as a just in case. If they only have the half litre bottles, Dad, will you finish it for me?”
“No problem, Love.”
“Dad, what made you think about getting the periods stuff from Boots?”
“I didn’t really. It was Harriet who owns the hairdressers on King Street. She’s Paul and Janet’s daughter in law and Paul told her that you were living with me now. She wants me to look at her central heating, and she said there could be difficulties for single blokes rearing girls. She didn’t come right out and say what she meant, but I knew she was referring to periods, so on the way home I called in at Boots and explained to a woman behind the pharmacy counter. She selected the stuff and gave me some leaflets for you, which I put in the bag too. She said the leaflets give the details of some Youtube clips you would find helpful.”
“Cool. I’ll check them out. You know I get really fed up with people who get all coy about stuff like periods and sex, cos without both none of us would be here. I don’t get why everyone isn’t as easy to talk to about them as you, cos they ain’t going away.” Obviously caught by an idea Amy asked, “I’ve been cutting my own hair since I hit the streets. It would be nice to have it done properly, and I’d like to have my ears pierced too. Just once in the lobe though, cos I don’t want to look like a walking scrapyard. How much would it cost to have my hair done at the salon, Dad?”
“No idea, but I could ask if Harriet’ll do the lot for you if I sort her heating out. Hair, nails, ear piercing, the works. I’ll ask her to advise you a bit about make up too. She must know what she’s doing because she always looks gorgeous, and she runs the make up courses at the local college too. What do you think?”
“Don’t you need the money, Dad?”
“Yeah. We can always use money, but I don’t need it as much as you need to have your hair done, and it’s not as if I’m short of work at the moment. What have you cut your hair with before? Your knife?”
“Yeah. Why?”
“Forget it, Love.”
In Asda they picked up Amy’s housekeeping requirements including the Polish salami that she hated. She bought it because her dad loved it. “What’s that for, Love?” Jerry asked indicating something that looked like a small bag of flour.
“I thought I’d try baking bread, and a kit seemed the best way to start, but I want to make it properly eventually. This is an Irish soda bread kit, unless you want me to try something else first? They sell eight different bread mixes.”
“No. You try whatever you want first. It should be good. You want me to get you a bread making machine? The guy I got your Kenwood(1) from has a few. I can get you a recipe book that tells you how to use it too if you like?”
“Brilliant. Can you fix me a couple more electric sockets over the long work top in the kitchen? Or will that involve too much work?”
“No trouble at all. I’ll take the double sockets off and replace them with quadruples designed for the job. A tenner apiece off eBay. Easy. I’ll do all four for you in an hour.”
“Dad?” Amy was hesitant. “Do I cost you a lot of money?”
“Yeah, but my life is a lot better now. I used to just fix stuff, any stuff, to sell on. Mostly it was just a way of filling time. Now I have a reason for making money, and I fix specific stuff. Stuff you want, we want, and I have a reason for doing that too, so I get more fun out of it now. I’m getting much more fun out of doing the car now we’ve got holiday plans. And anyway I’ve never eaten Irish soda bread before. Even if we don’t like it the hens will, and that’s no reason for not trying a different kind of bread next time is it?”
“Spose not.”
“Don’t worry about it, Love. Just call it part of your education, after all you shouldn’t be spending all your time on maths and sciences, and if you were at school you’d be doing domestic science, or whatever it is they call cookery these days. Instead you’re teaching yourself the real thing including baking bread and budgeting the household accounts, and there’re no schools I know of where you get to go ice skating during games, use a milling machine in handicrafts and learn horticulture from four experts. You done here? Or do we need anything else before we look at bras?”
“Just shower gel for your bathroom and some floor cleaner. Oh, and some toothpaste too”
The woman on the girls’ clothes area was surprised by Amy’s complete lack of embarrassment as she explained her requirements. “I’ve never worn a bra, and I probably don’t need one yet, but it’s a grown up thing, and I want to, but I don’t have a mum to help me.”
“It’s a common situation, Miss. What you want are usually referred to as training bras. We don’t sell them as such but have some nice bra and knickers sets you can look at on that counter over there. For younger girls the bras are really crop tops, but they look nice. Some of the bras in your size range are padded to give a girl a bit more of a womanly shape. Do you know what size you are?”
“No. This is my first time shopping for my own clothes. Dad has always bought them before, and he usually gets it right.”
“No problem, Dear. Step up against the height scale to give me an idea of what we’re aiming for if you would please.” Amy stood with her back to the chart and the woman said, “About four foot eight, and a slender figure many would die for. Take your coat off please, and we’ll run a tape round you.” Any removed her coat and the woman measured her muttering as she worked. “Bust, Twenty-eight. Waist, Twenty. Hips twenty-eight. Slender little thing aren’t you, but not to worry we’ve a reasonable selection for you to chose from.” The woman produced a dozen or so sets and some bras and asked, “Do you see anything that takes your fancy?”
To the woman’s further surprise, Amy turned and called, “Dad, I need you.”
Jerry walked over asked, “Got what you want, Love?”
“No. The ones at two ninety-nine are plain and not pretty.” Amy pointed at the offending articles, and added, “And more like a little girl’s crop top. But the grown up ones that are proper bras are pretty, but up to sixteen pounds and the matching knickers another four to six which seems very expensive for something I don’t really need yet.”
It was an even more surprised assistant who heard Jerry say quietly, “You do need them, Love. You’re growing up and you need to have what ever it takes to assist that and make you feel comfortable with what can be a difficult time for both girls and boys. We’re okay for money at the moment, so up to a hundred, okay? I suggest you try them and wear what you like the most to dinner.” Jerry turned to the assistant, smiled and said, “We’re eating out tonight.”
Amy chose four sets and said, “Thanks, Dad. I only like these so that’s the lot. I’ll wear these. The bra’s padded to give a bit more of a grown up shape. What do you think?”
“Very pretty, Love.”
“Okay. I’ll try these on, and then it’s just your beer, the checkout and the Chinese.”
Amy left for the dressing rooms and the woman said to Jerry, “She’s very mature and confident for a girl of her age isn’t she?”
Jerry looked away from the woman and said, “Amy hasn’t lived with her mother for a long time, that makes a girl grow up quickly. She maintains that having to look after me has put years on her. We manage very well most of the time, but really she needs a mum.” Jerry looked away from the woman again and said quietly, “But sometimes it’s not easy.”
There was an embarrassing silence, and Amy eventually returned to break it saying, “What do you think, Dad? The padding does make it a bit obvious, and I don’t want to look like a tart.”
“You look lovely, Amy. You’re growing up and there’s nothing anyone can do to stop that.” Jerry turned to the assistant with a questioning look on his face. She continued speaking to Amy, “For your height and age, your outline in that bra is entirely appropriate. As I said you look lovely. You really should feel grateful you’re not one of the girls who develop a huge bust when they’re still at primary school. I always feel sorry for them because it’s hard for them to deal with when they develop over night and their friends are all still little girls.”
Amy smiled and said, “Thank you. Come on, Dad. Beer and food.” She turned back to the woman and said, “We’re going to the Chinese round the corner. It’s a bit shabby, but it’s spotlessly clean and the food is excellent. Now they have an alcohol licence you can legally take your own in. Folk used to anyway, but now they can give you a glass for it without having to put a jug of water on the table and pretend you’re going to drink water out of a beer or wine glass. I’m going to try some of Dad’s beer.”
The woman smiled at Amy’s enthusiasm and said, “I like the food there too, and I saw in the paper they’d got their licence.”
Jerry had done a deal with Harriet and though cautious, Amy was enjoying being a girl and gossiping with the women. Harriet and the other women who worked in the salon had been a little shocked that a girl of Amy’s age did all the cooking and cleaning, but when Amy explained it was either that or live in chaos they’d all laught in agreement when she’d said, “Dad’s completely clueless in a kitchen, and I’m not sure he even sees dirt never mind realises it has to be cleaned up. I’m not going to eat anything he cooks in my kitchen, and anyway he makes such a mess. You wouldn’t believe how long it took me to clean the bathrooms when I first came to live with him.”
Harriet had giggled and said, “Welcome to the sisterhood, Amy. They’re all the same you know, dad’s, brothers, husbands the whole lot of them, but at least your dad can fix anything. He’s a really handy fella to have around. My Ken’s completely useless with tools. When your dad sorted my heating he fixed loads of stuff in the shop for me too. How come you came to live with him? I assume you lived with your mum before. Why did you leave her?”
Amy decided a little background fabrication was required, “I never got on with Mum. She was always going on about how I was no good, just like my scumbag father, whom I didn’t remember. She’s a tramp, and she drinks too much. She hit me a lot. I coped with it till she remarried, but my stepdad was a pervert who was always touching me up. I’d had enough when he tried to rape me when he was drunk one night. Luckily for me mum was wrecked on weed and he was drunk. When I hit him with a chair he fell over and knocked himself out.
I knew where Dad lived because I’d searched through the drawer where Mum kept all her paperwork one day. Mum hated him, but I figured he probably wasn’t as bad as she’d told me, cos she was the world’s best exaggerator, and never stopped trying to get sympathy from others. She never accepted she was responsible for anything in her life, not even me, and anyway I thought Dad had to be better than my stepdad. I ran away and lived on the streets for a while before I summoned enough nerve to approach Dad. He’s nothing like what Mum told me, and anyway someone has to look after him because for certain he can’t.”
The women all laught, and Harriet asked, “You happy now, Sweetie? Living with your dad I mean?”
“Oh yes. I wish he’d had me from a baby. I know he’s a bit disorganised, but he loves me, and Mum never did, but best of all he’s a brilliant teacher and I get to use all his tools in the workshops.”
Julie, an older woman who was doing Amy’s nails asked, “Which school do you got to, Amy?”
Amy knew sooner or later the neighbours would realise she was home schooled, and eventually Social Services would find out about her, but she’d face that when it happened. “I don’t. I’m too clever for a school. When I went nobody ever wanted to be friends with me, and I used to get bullied a lot. Dad decided to teach me himself and registered me with the Open University. I’m doing a degree in maths, and Dad is my tutor.”
“Honestly?”
“Yeah straight up. Even though I had a hard time in school before I ran away, I loved mathematics and sciences, but Dad insists I don’t just do maths and science, and says leaning to use his tools in the workshop is my handicrafts lessons, cooking and cleaning is domestic science and swimming, hill walking, cycling and ice skating is games. I keep accounts on the house keeping, cos to start with I wanted to prove to him I was honest, but now I do it cos it makes sense. Dad says I’m teaching myself accounts and economics. History and geography I learn from reading and our trips out. The guys who look after the garden teach me horticulture and Paul has promised to teach me how to prune and propagate roses and fruit trees. I’m learning about bee keeping and looking after hens which a lot of fun. Dad’s taught me all sorts of stuff on the computer, and I reckon I’m getting a far better education than any school could give me.”
Amy didn’t mention that Jerry had taught her how to find and use unprotected wi fi routers from nearby to access the internet and then make it appear as if she were accessing the net from anywhere she wished. He’d also provided her with a second laptop and set it up so she could tracelessly remain in touch and continue her education when she was back on the streets. It was plain black and lived in her ruck sack. Amy called her laptops Beauty and the Beast.
Amy had her hair cut properly and styled which along with her elegantly manicured finger nails and the pearl studs in her ears transformed her into a pretty looking teenager. When Jerry arrived to pick her up, she ran to him, and shewing him her nails said, “Look, at these earrings Dad, aren’t they just tops? Do you like my hair? Look! They did my toe nails too.” Amy’s finger nails were longer and a deep pink with glitter and matched her toes. “I’ll get some open toed shoes for the summer. Julie wanted to make my finger nails much longer but I told her that would make cooking and cleaning too difficult.” She jumped up into Jerry’s arms and said, “I love you tons, Dad, and thanks for all this.”
The women were misty eyed as a clearly embarrassed Jerry said, “I love you too, Amy.” After he’d put her down he asked, “You want to go home and get dressed up, Love, and we’ll go out for dinner? We could try that new Japanese place and have sushi.”
“I love you loads, Dad, but not even for you am I going to eat raw fish. I’d rather have fish and chips.”
“Okay. How about Harry Ramsden’s on the motorway then?”
Amy squealed with delight, jumped up again and after kissing Jerry all over his face said, “Dad, you are the best Dad in the world. Can I have plaice and chips with asparagus and Hollandaise sauce? And peach Melba for pudding?”
“Yes, but let me guess. This has absolutely nothing at all to do with the adverts showing a certain young, good looking chef who makes the sauces who you’re hoping will serve you himself. Am I right?”
“Yes, but there’s no reason to tell everybody.”
Jerry kissed her and said, “Come on, minx. Home, and let’s get ready. Plaice, chips and asparagus with Hollandaise sauce it is.”
“What you going to have, Dad?”
“I’m going to wait till I see what the prettiest waitress is serving.”
“Dad!”
After Amy had thanked everyone yet again the pair left, and Harriet remarked to her colleagues, “All she needs is a mum. How on earth Jerry’s still single completely baffles me. I know he can be a bit awkward, but Ken’s dad told me he owns The Priory with no mortgage. He’s got to be the handiest man I’ve ever heard of, is virtually impossible to fall out with and God knows he’s one of the best fathers I’ve ever come across. A single girl’s dream really.”
“Yeah,” said Julie, “and Amy is the politest and kindest kid of that age I’ve ever met. That doesn’t happen by accident. She worships him and models her behaviour on his. Mind any boy interested in her had better treat her right, because the quiet, decent ones like Jerry get really dangerous if someone they love gets hurt, but that just means they’re men worth having. That ex of his must have been completely stupid letting him slip through her fingers and one hell of a bitch hitting a lovely little girl like Amy all the time. She didn’t get her brains from her mum that’s for sure.”
Amy was eleven when the authorities got wind of her living with Jerry. She told them she was thirteen and Jerry’s illegitimate daughter. Social workers had already spoken to some of Jerry’s relatives who’d all said as far as they were aware he had no children, so they didn’t believe Amy and insisted she went into foster care whilst Jerry was investigated to see if he could be prosecuted for kidnapping a minor. She wouldn’t coöperate and refused to tell them any thing about herself at all.
Jerry refused to coöperate arguing since they were insisting on taking his daughter away from him anyway he had no reason to give them the time of day, and he certainly wasn’t going to help them to take her off him. He’d added, “Since you refuse to believe she’s my daughter it’s illogical of you to expect that I know anything concerning her background. You can’t have it both ways.”
They never managed to properly identify Amy. They had to call her something for their paperwork, so they used her O.U. identity data, all of which was false, even her date of birth was recorded as August the thirty-first when she’d been born on February the fifth two and a half years later. The O.U. data said she was thirteen and had her registered as Amy Charlotte McVey, daughter of Jeremy Charles McVey, a home schooled child who lived with her father. There was no information concerning her mother.
Her marks were impressive, and the authorities had trawled the academic records of every child in the country confident they could identify such rare talent easily, but Amy hadn’t been to school for six years and they believed she was thirteen, and though her schools had known she was clever they had never suspected she was brilliant. It had been assumed she was just another piece of inner city bad attitude with a knife who would end up pregnant at fourteen, spend the rest of her life on benefits and a lot of time in gaol, just like the rest of her family.
Unlike her family, Amy was well spoken with no discernable accent. She sounded like a younger female version of Jerry and, despite her extensive use of teenage slang, had an impressive vocabulary. Her voice certainly gave no indication that she was originally a Geordie from Newcastle upon Tyne, but neither did it hint at anything like the local Gloucestershire sound, though Jerry was born nearby and other than when he went to university had never lived anywhere else. Voice experts were confident Amy originated somewhere round the Gloucestershire Wiltshire border.
Amy just did not fit any profile Social Services could put together. Brilliant and loving, she was a notable housekeeper and cook, and because the police knew and liked her dad and spoke to him whenever they met him in the town he’d introduced her to them as ‘My daughter Amy who is now living with me.’ They’d never questioned the relationship, and since Amy was as polite as her dad they liked her too. Jerry had explained to her about his past interactions with the police, and she’d given the local officers a standing invitation for coffee when ever they were passing and had the time. More than a few had taken her up on her offer, and many were impressed by the way she’d turned Jerry’s warehouse into a home. They were even more impressed by the way she’d sorted Jerry out who was now always clean shaven, tidy and much better dressed. They’d also noticed he didn’t stare at things the way he used to.
Amy had proudly shown Diane and Evelyn, a couple of WPCs2 she was well acquainted with, round the house, and when they’d seen her teddy bear tucked up in her bed she’d blushed and said, “Joseph who keeps the hens gave him to me for my birthday. I know I’m too old really for a teddy, but he’s nice.”
Evelyn, who was in her late twenties, smiled and said, “I’ve had mine for over twenty-five years, so I wouldn’t worry if I were you. Where do you study, Amy, not in here obviously?”
Amy laught and replied, “In the library. It’s this way. We’ll use the other stairs. As they were going past Jerry’s room, Amy said, “That’s Dad’s bedroom. I’ve just about trained him to put his clothes in the wash instead of just dropping them on the floor. But I think his bathroom is a lost cause. Still, half an hour once a week is not too bad.” As they went down the impressive main staircase, Amy said, “Only Dad uses these stairs really, cos they’re nearer to his bedroom. I use the ones we used to come up, cos they’re far more convenient for me other than when I’m doing Dad’s room or hoovering upstairs. Fortunately I’ve a hoover up here too, cos it would be hard work taking one up and back down again all the time.”
As they reached the bottom, Amy opened a door on their right, and they followed her into a large oak panelled room, whose walls were completely covered in mostly empty book shelves, which had some impressive looking computer equipment and a vast plasma screen on a huge table in the middle of the room. The huge fireplace had a pink marble fire surround, and both it and the brass companion set gleamed in the afternoon sunlight that flooded in through the large sash windows.
“Twelve weeks ago you couldn’t get in here for all Dad’s clutter. There were boxes piled to the ceiling. It took three days to empty it. I think that persuaded Dad to either fix the stuff and sell it or store it somewhere else, though I don’t know where it could have gone, cos there’s no room anywhere. Dennis who keeps the bees is a retired furniture maker, and he bought all the reclaimed wood for the panelling and shelves at an auction for me and rebuilt it all as this. It took me a day and a half to polish it all the first time, but it doesn’t take long now. Dennis makes up his own beeswax furniture polish. He sells most of it to help his pension out, but he gave me a tin.”
Amy opened a drawer and removed a tin. She took the lid off and said, “Here, smell it. Heavenly isn’t it?” The women both sniffed and nodded, They smiled as Amy was clearly delighted to show them her home and what she’d accomplished. Amy replaced the polish and said, “At last I have somewhere to put all my books and to study. I’ve told Dad books are okay, but he’s in trouble if he dumps anything else in here. We light the fire at night and watch TV or a film in here sometimes.”
Diane the older of the two women who was in her forties said, “Thanks for showing us round, Amy. You have a lovely home and have done wonders with it, but I must say you’ll have your work cut out managing all this lot.”
“Nah. The house is just year nine domestic science. Easy. Managing Dad requires much more sophisticated techniques. That’s degree level psychology.”
The women laught in appreciation. Just then Evelyn responded to her radio and said, “We’ve got to go, Amy. Thanks for the coffee and cake.”
As they were leaving Diane thanked her too, but Amy said, “You’re welcome anytime. Just drop in.” That Amy was mature beyond her years and a bit eccentric they’d considered to be natural enough given her father, but all that was before Social Services took a hand.
Several times in the next year Social Services had the police in attendance as they forcibly took Amy away. The police, most of who knew Jerry as a friendly, law abiding and coöperative eccentric, and had enjoyed his and Amy’s hospitality, were embarrassed by the whole business as they knew Amy and her Dad loved each other, and it was obvious there was nothing improper about their relationship. They considered if anything Amy was the more forceful character of the two, for without doubt Jerry did as he was told in the house she looked after. Though both were visibly distraught by their forced separation, Jerry offered no resistance as Amy was dragged out, but Amy had to be forcibly restrained, for she didn’t care who she hit, bit, scratched or whose hair she pulled.
Most of the officers didn’t care whether Amy was Jerry’s daughter or not and believed she should have been left with him whilst the authorities pursued their investigations, for it should have been obvious to Social Services within minutes she was loved and cared for at the home she was so proud of and had spent so much time and effort on. Too, given her abilities Jerry was an ideal guardian, for many a time they’d called for a coffee when he was teaching Amy, usually in the library but sometimes in one of the workshops. Neither had been bothered, and as Amy had readied her coffee percolator she’d always said the company and the break were welcome, and they’d pick the lesson up later. The police also knew that they’d never taken Jerry home since Amy had turned up.
Every time Amy was placed with foster parents she ran away and eventually returned to her dad. Social Services applied for and were given a court order that obliged Jerry tell them when Amy returned to him, or he would risk gaol. He didn’t comply and when she returned in July after running away from her latest foster home he had all ready and packed and they disappeared on a month long touring holiday of Cumbria in the soft top.
When they returned Social Services were unable to make a charge of kidnapping a minor stick, but on their return Jerry was arrested, charged with breaching the court order, found guilty, sentenced to six months of which he served three. If he’d been prepared to promise not to do it again the judge told him he would have escaped a custodial sentence. Jerry had said he wouldn’t lie because it set a poor example to Amy and it was better he went to prison than betray her, for broken trust was about the only thing he couldn’t fix.
In those three months, despite their television and online appeals, the authorities never saw or came across any trace of Amy, probably because she was now using the name George and looked convincingly like a boy, though they knew somehow she was untraceably logging on to her O.U. user space, via computers she couldn’t possibly have access to, and handing in her assignments. They considered it obvious from Amy’s log in records that she was constantly on the move and never far from major motorways, so concluded she was hitch hiking. The police were constantly on the look out for her at motorway slip roads, but never saw a trace of her. What puzzled them most was why she constantly moved around the country rather than seeking the anonymity of large cities, and why she spent so much time in Scotland so far away from her home.
Other than Northumberland, Amy deliberately avoided using the North East, whence she originated, and had them convinced she’d visited Northern Ireland more than once and had spent time on the Isle of Mann. The reality couldn’t have been more different, for Amy planned her virtual travels meticulously from the relative comfort of bed and breakfast hotels mostly in Swansea or Cardiff, but also in the larger conurbations of the Northwest: Greater Manchester and Merseyside. She never used the same area twice to find a hotel and when she needed to return home for money, where there were several caches totalling tens of thousands of pounds, she went on a virtual trip heading north in Scotland which was as far away from her southbound trip to Gloucestershire as she could manage. She invariably used the train to go to Oxford, Hereford, Worcester or Gloucester and a late night bus to travel the rest of the way.
When Jerry was released he left a drop box message for Amy, and she replied instantly via her mobile phone. Fortunately she’d been on her way home having boarded an overnight coach to Torquay from Wigan. She’d intended to book a room in Torquay for a couple of days before going home, but after texting her dad she abandoned her coach journey at the motorway services. The nondescript boy who got off the coach waited till nobody was around and simply removed his hat and coat, shook her hair loose and applied some lipstick. Taking her bag into the disabled lavatory she changed into a pair of tights, donned a skirt, bra and blouse, put her heels on and a warm pink woolly sweater completed her transformation. She packed her boy clothes in her bag, left the lavatory and completed her make up at the large mirror in the ladies’. Jerry picked her up in a borrowed van at Exeter services on the M5 and she was home in time to bathe, dress and cook dinner.
Whilst her dad had been inside she’d not been idle and had a plan. She contacted Social Services, whose equipment told them she was in Edinburgh, and said, “It’s Amy McVey. Can I go home without Dad being gaoled? If not I’ll stay on the streets up here and if anything happens to me it will be your fault. I’m recording this and shall be sending the recording and the entire story, which I’ve already written up, to the press. You can’t stop it, the story will hit the internet when the time delay expires and this conversation is being uploaded in real time and will go with it. Though it’s mid-summer, it’s cold at night at the moment. I’m hungry, underweight and have fought off at least a dozen child molesters since you forced me to leave home. I’m lonely, I love my dad and I miss him. No matter what you say about him he loves me and takes care of me.
“Dad is the only person in my entire life who has treated me properly, the rest of my family are scum, the loonies on the streets are scum and so are you because you’re the bastards who have forced me back onto the streets pulling tricks and eating out of bins just to stay alive and free. The first things Dad did when we met was chase off two thugs who would probably have raped me. He bought me food then and there and on the way home he took me to Tesco for some new clothes. At home he gave me privacy, a bedroom and a bathroom and after my first bath in years I dressed in new clean clothes for the first time ever in my life before he fed me the first hot food I’d eaten in over a week. The following morning he had me to the doctor to be checked out for STDs and to make sure that I was okay, and that you can easily verify. All that within fifteen hours.
“Every one wants to be free, to be treated decently and to live with people who love them and care for them, and you bastards want to force me to live with people who have tried to molest me, hit me, and half starved me, people you vetted and said were decent people fit to foster children, two of whom were out and out paedophiles and half a dozen of them physical child abusers and to make matters worse you locked up my Dad. His place is the only place on Earth I want to be. It’s my home. I’ve done some research on matters like mine. I’m fourteen in a bit, and as soon as I am I’ll apply to the family court to live with my Dad. As I know you are aware at fourteen my desires will count with the court, and I suggest you think about that. I hope you burn in hell.” At that she cut the connection.
The papers had a field day, Amy didn’t tell them who her ex-tormentors were, but it didn’t take them long to find out who she’d been fostered with, and the footage from her bodycam had helped to have them gaoled. Social Services had yet another major shake up, and yet again maintained lessons had been learnt that would ensure the events never happened again.
Amy’s new case worker laid down conditions for Jerry to be her foster father. Jerry was okay with that, but Amy refused point blank. She only ever talked to the social workers via the internet, and a national daily newspaper was paying her for copies of the recordings. She said, “Dad is as he is, that’s why I love him and he needs me. Fuck you, he either gets the same terms as every other foster parent, or I’ll run. You don’t need to check whether he’s a paedo or not, cos I’ve a better track record than you at identifying them. He’s not. He’s my dad, and he loves me.
“I’ll just keep returning to him, cos that’s where my access to education is, and, despite your court order, he’ll never betray me by telling you when I turn up, and I don’t think even you are stupid enough to gaol him a second time after the pasting you’re still getting from the media. You’ve agreed school is pointless, since I’m halfway through a maths degree and on track for a first, but you’ve never provided me with access to education or with a tutor. Dad does and he’s my tutor. To dispel any concerns regarding me receiving a balanced education I’ve written a list of all the things I’ve learnt whilst living with Dad. It’s an amazing curriculum that is far superior to that provided by any state school [ in the US a public school] and probably any public school [in the US an exclusive, expensive, private school] too. It’s already uploaded onto the internet. And thanks to you scum I don’t need any more sex education.”
The newspaper sent a reporter and a photographer to The Priory where Amy shewed them the photos she’d taken of the house when she’d moved in and ones of the gradual changes she’d made. They loved the sequence shewing the creation of the library and took more photo’s. Over the next week, they took photos of her using a lathe, using a milling machine, pouring a brass casting, feeding the hens, cooking, and many more, but the one they loved best was of her examining bees on a sunny afternoon wearing a sleeveless frock with no protective clothing. The series of articles was a sensation.
The social workers had to give way, Jerry was a foster parent under the same terms as all other foster parents. The social workers insisted that Amy met with a child psychologist, so she did. She said nothing for the hour during which she worked on one of her maths assignments. She was politeness itself, explaining she was not going to talk to any one other than her dad about her life, past, present or future. “If you want to fuck with my head you can bloody well find your own material to do it with. You’re even stupider than the rest of them if you think I’m going to provide you with anything. Now if you don’t mind I’ve got these tensor calculus problems to finish, before I get my hair and nails done at Harriet’s.”
The following day, Harriet hugged her and said, “Amy. Sweetie. I was so shocked when I read about you in the papers. No wonder you covered your tracks with all those stories, which I completely fell for. I’ve always liked your dad, but to discover how you met and what he did was incredible. The man’s a saint. I’ve never understood why he’s never been appreciated. He ought to have been married years ago. He should get out more, and then you’d have a mum. You deserve a mum, Sweetie. Would you like me to introduce him to some nice women?”
“No!” Amy was very sharp in her reply. “I don’t want a mum. I intend to marry Jerry one day, and I don’t need any competition. I’m not old enough yet, but I’m working on it. I’ve always loved him, Harriet, since the day I met him. Yes I love him as my dad, but there’s always been more, and as soon as I’m old enough I’m moving into his bed.”
“You sly little thing, Amy. Nobody will find out anything from me, and I’ll make sure you get no competition. He’ll make you a good husband and thinking about it you’ve chosen well, but I still think you’re a sly little thing. Does he have any idea what you’re planning?”
Amy laught and said, “Come on, Harriet, this is Fixit Jerry we’re talking about. The archetypal, clueless genius. I’ll probably have to get him half cut before I make a move on him just so he can’t run away.” The two women laught, and Amy was glad she’d told Harriet, for it meant her long term plan was underway. What Amy hadn’t told Harriet was that she knew from something Jerry had said without realising it that Jerry was as virginal as herself.
Amy got her top first in mathematics at the supposed age age of fifteen, but she was bored with formal education and interested in researching new technologies which she theorised should be possible. She had come to that conclusion as a result of her mind’s incredible ability to integrate huge amounts of information. Information that often had no obvious common elements to integrate. Her first project was to produce a focussed matter disrupter which produced vast amounts of energy as a result of the process which turned mass into energy. Energy which she considered could be harnessed with almost one hundred per cent efficiency into electricity production.
In order to fund her researches, the couple bought derelict industrial workshop machines for next to nothing, made them work better than new, sold them and bought state of the art cnc machinery which they then upgraded to their own specifications in their recently acquired industrial unit. The unit supposedly had a state of the art hightech security system. After its purchase they had completely upgraded the security system. The hanger like unit they filled with modern sophisticated machinery all of which was uest, but the primary purpose of most of the equipment was simply to hide the machinery which they were developing and using for their disrupter experiments. With Jerry’s know how and skills and Amy’s theoretical vision they created the finest and most accurate machine tools on the planet. Some of their most advanced equipment they had to build from scratch as such machines did not exist other than in Amy’s mind.
To preserve secrecy she and Jerry agreed they needed to proceed carefully. First they had a huge solar powered energy generation system built on the workshop roof, ostensibly to provide power for the machinery, but set up so as to feed any surplus power into the grid, for which they would get paid. Any power the small scale disrupter experiments produced would be fed into the grid along with the photo voltaic power from the roof panels which effectively screened their activities.
It took them six months to produce cutting beams of any given approximate width, but five years to be able to focus the disrupters to the point where they could produce parallel beams capable of drilling more accurate holes than any reamer or precision system could produce and wider beams that could remove material to produce a perfect planar mirror finished surface far flatter than any surface grinder was capable of. It was the depth control that was the hardest issue to solve. The full control of depth enabled blind holes to be drilled to an accuracy of a hundredth of a millionth of a metre: less than a wavelength of visible light.
The nature of the mechanism was such that it was sealed and impervious to analysis by electromagnetic radiation of any frequency and physical analysis by more conventional vibratory mechanisms such as ultra sound. Given an appropriate electromagnetic blend of frequencies they could be decoded, opened and serviced, but the key was complex and unique to each device. Once open unless a similarly complex key were provided within three seconds the same result as cutting, drilling or in any other way physically damaging the casing occurred, a fireball leaving nothing to analyse.
The devices could be used in two similar but different ways, the first as a power generator fuelled by the disruption of tiny amounts of mass. The second as machine tools to produce accurate parts or even core bore tunnels with the concomitant power generation a secondary consideration. In the second use relatively large amounts of mass were disrupted and the tools could feed the power produced into the electricity grid or be used for heavy industry for example steel making or aluminium smelting.
“How do we ensure we can sell the devices and remain safe, Love?” Jerry asked.
“Easy. Yes I know big business will possibly be even more dangerous to us than the military, but we deposit full blueprints hidden on the web to use as a weapon. We can encrypt them so they are hidden in someone else’s files, say an art gallery’s files, they could be buried in the data of pictures, or we could use an orchestra’s recording files or even a wide array of such things. That way not only is the data encrypted, it masquerades as a picture or a piece of music and can be used a such for ever and none will even know the file contains anything other than what it is supposed to. If we hide a hundred or more copies in as wide a variety of formats as possible the data will be safe.
“Only if anything happens to either of us, say we do not enter activity on our laptops for a predetermined period of time, and we could interlink our devices to prevent pressure being applied to either of us, is the data released. In the event of untoward circumstance the blue prints are printed out on the media’s data streams everywhere in the world. We make it clear to every one we deal with, without disclosing any details, that unfortunate events will result in global publication to all, and that the devices are available for use but attempted analysis will result in their self destruction with probable loss of life.
“Of course we don’t tell the truth, merely what looks convincingly like a part of what will lead to the truth, and we give them what will be disastrously dangerous to experiment with. Power companies will be interested, but I think we should sell small power generation devices to individual factories and houses. Just replace the electricity meter with a power source. The electricity supply companies will be a thing of the past. The focussed beam cutting and shaping devices we can sell to whomever requires them. Any who try to analyse either and hence destroys it, simply have to buy much more expensive electricity in the first case, or go out of business in the second because we don’t sell them another.”
It was the McVey drive in its various forms that guaranteed their fortunes. The internal combustion engine and the jet engine became relics of a bygone era almost over night. None of which happened without resistance from those whose fortunes were harnessed to existing technologies. There were assassination attempts by the dozen, and even more attempts to unlock the secrets of the devices, but Amy was always numerous steps in front. She was quite happy to sell the devices at very reasonable prices to any one. The small and self explanatory user manuals were always delivered in advance with clear warnings as to the dangers of tampering, and delivery was subject to a signature signing to the effect that the manual had been read and understood with no outstanding questions.
The devices were deliberately made to be perfectly safe as long as they weren’t tampered with, but effectively they were a massively powerful bombs the moment they were. There were moves to force the couple to disclose their secrets on the grounds they needed conventional industrial expertise to render them safe. Amy’s response was to shut down production entirely till her opponents had been neutralised by both governments and popular opinion.
Jerry’s abilities with digital devices meant the couple could appear to be anywhere they desired and, since money was no longer a problem, whenever they travelled they did so in convoys of vehicles and aircraft most going to destinations without them aboard. Only those with a vested interest in saying nothing ever knew where they were, and having no love of publicity the couple never appeared in public. They owned numerous properties all over the world all kept fully staffed and secured at all times. They never made appointments but rather agreed to appear for meetings ‘some time next month’, however they had few meetings in person insisting that most were just nonsense and unnecessary. Others had to do business on their terms or not at all, and they explained they weren’t bothered either way.
Social Services had always refused to accept that Amy was Jerry’s illegitimate daughter, and in her dealings with the papers she had confessed she’d only said it to force them to allow her to live with him which it had not. Jerry had told her repeatedly after he came out of gaol that he wanted to adopt her, but she'd refused point blank every time merely saying she had her reasons. It was only after their marriage she explained, “I wanted to be your wife, not your daughter.”
When Amy turned sixteen she seduced Jerry. The couple married two years later, and Yulia was born nine months later. Amy loved being pregnant and a mum, and went on to have a family of twelve. Along with platoons of security personnel, she employed an army of nannies, home helps and teachers to home school her family. As she put it, “My children are never going to be damaged by the state.”
The play group and school she set up at home for her children took in others from the surroundings and operated on the principle of one strike and you’re out. Children only behaved unacceptably once. Since it was free, parents of expelled children could do nothing about it. Amy’s stance was simple, “I invite other children here for the socialisation benefits they provide my children. The education your children receive is secondary, a fringe benefit you receive. It is of no value to me. I do not wish my children exposed to poor behaviour. Since I am paying for all this none else has a say in how it works. If you don’t like it set up your own playgroup and school, and run it the way you want.”
Amy had always seemed to Jerry to be a loveable and reasonable person, albeit one with hard edges due to her past. It was a surprise to him when at the ripe old age of twenty six she announced that she was writing her autobiography. Now household names as a result of their work her book sold by the million. It was an autobiography like few others, it pulled no punches and detailed every act of hers as a child, be it however brutal, every unkindness she had ever received as a child and provided names, addresses, dates and even recent photographs provided by her security personnel.
Her family were stunned that their Mary Ann James, the little girl they’d now forgotten how badly they’d abused, to the point where they refused to believe she was telling the truth, was Amy Charlotte McVey the inventor, developer and producer of the incredible devices that provided virtually free power to all, and moreover she and her husband had become the two wealthiest persons on the planet.
Jerry’s family had initially considered his new wealth as a certain passport to fortune for themselves, till they became aware of Amy’s chapters on her husband’s background. No member of either of family was ever to meet them again, their security personnel saw to that, and neither were any to ever receive a penny. Such was the revulsion and contempt they were held in by the public all members of both families had to move and assume new identities repeatedly. As Amy said,
“What goes around, comes around, and I’ve stopped running. It’s their turn now.”
1. Kenwood, a top of the range food mixer.
2. WPC, woman police constable.
Comments
Wow, Read this now!
Thank you for sharing this unconventional pair's success story. I see my own real challenges and struggle paralleling a lot of this, do not give up! Aloha
Aloha. Sincerely Deanna
IAGWFABMWNBTS
Though I've only just prepared it for posting, this was written a long time ago as a response to having a hard time with Social Services. Not in the same way as here but the 'system' was being just as 'by the book' and taking as little heed of the reality 'on the ground'. I've said it many times before and doubtless will again, under difficult circumstances some reach for a Kalashnikov and cause much pain to a few dozen of the essentially innocent in a shopping mall or a school, whereas I reach for my laptop and cause even more to potentially a few million of the cause of my ill feeling or pain in a story. I do feel a bit better afterwards, till next time that is! This work pre-dates laptops by some margin, and I still have the original written on paper with a fountain pen and ink! Writing in this way is a harmless conceit that provides not just some angst relief for me, but ocasionally some entertainment for others too. Others may feel free to enjoy and use the tale in any way they will with my goodwill and blessings. Thank you for taking the trouble to read the just less than 20,000 words and then tell me you had done so.
Regards,
Eolwaen
Eolwaen
A must read
I was initially put off by the title but decided to give it a go. To my surprise and delight Here I am an hour later having had to put it down because I have finished it' Two outwardly miss matched protagonists but in truth complimentary Unusual ,thought provoking but definitely a must read .
This story runs so close to my life story -
and my deepest private fantasies that it made me shudder. I've hardly ever discussed these fantasies and to do so now might resemble plagiarism on my part from elements of this story.
One of my earliest stories on BC, namely 'SpaceTran' has some slight parrallels to this story by Eolwaun but this one makes for a more plausible, humanitarian read and I truly enjoyed it.
Beverly Taff.
Amazing!
I thought I would recieve serious negative response to this and was in two minds as to whether to post it or not. I like faery stories and prefer stories with happy endings. I also seem to be unable to stay away from futuristic and sci fi elements. Maybe I should put more thought into titles? I have always liked this story but could not for the life of me explain why, but I was amazed at the feedback on it. I've not been posting long and have been equally surprised at the lukewarm response to one or two tales I thought would be received better. I write for me and am happy to receive whatever response comes my way, but life is full of surprise.
Regards,
Eolwaen
Eolwaen
Definately worth the read
Held my interest Start to End.
IAGWFABMWNBTS
Thank you.
Regards,
Eolwaen
Eolwaen
IAGWFABMWNBTS
Thank you. Wendy Jean
Regards,
Eolwaen
Eolwaen
A few days more than 2 months ago, I first looked at this
and left it "for later" because of its length! Since then, as you are aware from my comments and PMs I have grown to appreciate your writing in such a way that I now don't let a new item with your bye-line on BC's list, go unread!
For some reason, after reading today's "Carrick on Shannon" I spotted this story in the side-bar, realised that I could not place it in my memory bank, and so started it. Now, my lunch is seriously delayed because I could not bear to leave it, and even more delayed because I had to write and tell you. A remarkable coincidence, given the wide range of your stories, in both of them, your prime subject, the narrator in the former but not the latter, had an early life history using a knife, and avoiding what in current times are consequences which would now be UNavoidable.
Now, my inner body requires fuelling, so thankyou, and please keep on writing. The imagination for it is a skill I can admire without jealousy.
Once again, my best wishes to you
Dave