Drew Goes South Chapter 1 by Angharad Copyright© 2021 Angharad

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“Does this road always get so bad?” asked a voice from the back of the car.

“I don't know, I don't drive it very often,” replied the driver. The road in question, was the M6 motorway, and in particular where it merges with the M5, near Birmingham. There is a massive complex of interconnecting roads called ‘spaghetti junction' and it is quite easy to miss the intersection you want, especially during peak traffic flow.

“Can you keep a look out for the M5, ‘The Southwest' it's signposted.”

“There it is Aunt Carol, bear off to the left.”

“Well spotted Drew,” said Carol Peters as she managed to weave through the traffic and into the filter lane. Somebody in a BMW flashed past, forcing his way in at the last moment and nearly causing an accident. Carol blasted her horn at him, but he ignored her.

“Blessed BMW drivers, they think they own the road.”

“Probably a rep late for a call,” suggested Maddy.

“Gran has a sign in her car saying, ‘ Tis better to be late in this life, than early in the next', “ offered Drew. “What do they mean by next life?”

“It's a euphemism for being dead,” said Carol.

“I thought a euphemism was a musical instrument. You know that girl from the colliery band plays one. A big silver thing.”

“Duh! Having a blonde moment are we?” chirped Maddy.

“What d'ya mean?” asked her cousin.

“Drew, a euphemism is something which is said to avoid hurting someone's feelings, like passing on, instead of dying.”

“Oh,”, said Drew, “so what was I thinking of?”

“Probably the fact that she is rather well developed!” replied Maddy and began sniggering.

“That was another euphemism,” called Carol from the front.

“What was?” asked Maddy.

“You said, ‘well developed', you mean she has big breasts.” At this both teenagers blushed and began to giggle. “What's so funny, Maddy Peters?”

Of course neither of them could tell her, and they continued their giggle-fit for another twenty miles. The traffic was breaking up a little and progress improved, but the consequence of the giggling was Maddy needed another euphemism, a comfort stop.

“Mum, can we stop at the next services, I need a wee.”

“That's another euphemism.”

“What is?”

“A wee.” This caused yet another giggle session.

“Don't make me laugh, I'll wet myself.” called Maddy, which made Drew giggle even more, and it was he who had the mishap with the plumbing.

“Oh no, I've peed my pants,” exclaimed the unfortunate boy. Laughing some more, consequently Maddy followed suit.

“I hope you're not making my seats wet,” said Carol, “honestly, you're worse than small children.”

“Hurry up, Mum.”

“Here we go, Services one mile.” Five or so minutes later, Maddy had pulled more knickers and trousers from her case and raced off to the toilets. Drew, grabbed his spare jeans and clean underpants and did likewise, hoping nobody would see the wet patch in the ones he was wearing.

A few minutes later, Maddy reappeared changed, her ‘dirties' in a plastic carrier bag. She accompanied her mother to the shop, to buy some sweets or crisps. They were still deliberating which they would buy from the overpriced display, when Drew arrived.

“What kept you?”

“Some of those bo…cubicles, yuck! Looked like someone had been spreading manure.”

They got some funny looks from other customers, at this graphic description. “I also got my trainer stuck in the leg of my jeans.”

“Don't you take them off first?”

“Course I do, at home. But I wasn't gonna put my foot down on the floor, dunno what you could catch in there.”

“So where's the dirty ones?” asked Maddy, showing her plastic bag.

“Oh no, I've left them in the bog, and they're my best ones.” Drew rushed off towards the toilets and as he did so he careered into a woman carrying two styrene cups of coffee.

“Stupid boy,” she shouted at him.

“Ouch, bloody hell it's hot!” he squealed ripping at his belt. “It's burning my legs.” By the time he had managed to pull his burning jeans down below his thighs, which were now red and stinging , Maddy and her mother had caught up with him.

“You stupid boy, you should look where you're going.”

“So should you, you old bat. I could be scarred for life.” retorted Drew, adding, “those things should have a warning on them.”

“The cups do, Drew,” said Maddy, “it says, May contain hot fluids.” Carol managed to calm the old lady down and offered to buy her some more coffee, while Maddy helped Drew divest himself of yet another pair of jeans, then accompanied him to the door of the gents.

He got some funny looks scurrying about in his boxers, carrying his trainers in his hands, his thighs still almost glowing red where the hot fluid had caught them.
Maddy waited, and waited. “What is he doing?” she said to herself. Even Carol had managed to arrive and asked where he was. Maddy shrugged her shoulders. “Perhaps he needed to go again?” she suggested.

Some several minutes later a sheepish looking boy stuck his head out of the door and said, “They're not here.”

“Don't be ridiculous, they must be.”

“Well I've searched every cubicle and they're not.”

“We'll see about that,” said Carol, and stormed off to find the manager, returning ten minutes later with his assistant.

“I'm sorry, Mrs Peters, if he left them in the toilets, they could be anywhere. I've checked the cleaners. They haven't been in there in the last hour, so another user must have taken them.”

As he said this, Drew thought, “past hour, they look as if no cleaner has been in there for a week.” while Maddy thought, “Ugh, who would take someone else's pee stained jeans, even if they were Levis. So gross.”

In the end, Maddy had to get some shorts for Drew from the car. Ten minutes later, they were back on the motorway.

“How are your legs Drew?” asked Carol from the front.

“Sore, but I'll live.”

“He's tough, he's had worse falling off his bike.” chirped Maddy, slapping him on the thigh.

“Ow, that bloody hurt,” he winced back at her.

She looked at his leg, a blister was beginning to form. “Oh God, I am sorry. Mum, his leg's got a big blister on it.”

“I can't stop here,” called Carol from the front, "put a cold flannel on it.”

Maddy improvised with a flannel and her bottle of drinking water, which was luckily still cold. Drew assisted by giving high pitched squeaks, when she added the cold water. They were all laughing, but they all knew it needed some expert advice.

They were on their way to Dorset for a week's break. Drew had been over-training and had had some sort of virus, like a flu bug, which he'd been unable to shake off. So when Carol had the chance to use her friend's cottage in Dorset for the week, she thought she might have the answer. She discussed it with her cousin, Drew's mum, Jenny, who was still in Germany and his whole family agreed it was a good idea, keep him off his bike for a few days, see if he improves.

In truth, he was on the mend before they left, perhaps buoyed up by a few days holiday with his cousin. He'd never been to Dorset, and they were staying not far from the coast and Weymouth. He'd heard of Weymouth, it was where George the Third had gone bathing, they'd done it in history and they'd all laughed at the way people in those days dressed to go bathing. They didn't swim, just stepped out of a covered wagon type thing which had been placed below the water's edge and then they stepped into the sea for a few minutes before returning to the safety of the ‘bathing machine' as they called the wagons.

He was almost lost in his thoughts as Carol turned of the road into Yeovil.

“According to the map, we go right past the hospital,” and sure enough they did.

The problem was, he couldn't get his shorts off. His legs were slightly swollen with the blisters, so the nurse in Casualty cut them off. Drew was horrified, they'd cost him twenty pounds and this was the first time he'd worn them. The pain in his wallet was nearly greater than the one in his legs.

His protests were silenced by the nurse complimenting Maddy on doing just the right thing with the cold water, and if she had only done it sooner, the blistering would have been less. His legs were lightly bandaged with iodine dressings, he was given a spare set and discharged.

Maddy had got a towel from the car, which he wrapped around himself. He grumbled of course. ”Bloody nurse, did she have to cut my shorts. Look at this,” he said referring to the towel around his waist, “I might as well have borrowed a skirt from you,” he aimed at Maddy.

Back in the car, the dawning that he had now reduced his wardrobe even more were creeping up on him. “Auntie Carol, I'm going to need some more clothes, is there anywhere down here we'll find some shops.”

“There's not much point until your legs heal, but yes, there's Dorchester, Weymouth and Bridport, with Poole and Yeovil not too far away.”

“Okay thanks.” These were all just place names to him, although he had looked at his father's road atlas to get a lie of the land. His dad had been excited for him.

“There's so much history down there, Maiden Castle which was excavated by Sir Mortimer Wheeler is one of the biggest and most complex in the country. It has huge ramparts. Castle is a bit of a misnomer, it's an iron age hillfort not a castle. Stonehenge is only an hour or two away, there's several other hillforts. Dorchester was the site of the ‘Bloody Assizes' from the Monmouth Rebellion, Weymouth was where the Black Death came in, plus the Jurassic coast, lots of fossils and wonderful scenery. It's a world heritage area.”

Drew had instructions to take plenty of pictures on his digital camera, but somehow the holiday was beginning to pall a bit. His legs were stinging and the dressings felt itchy. They'd given him pain killers, but they always made him sleepy and he thought he'd save them for night time.

He knew he only had himself to blame, and although he was with his girlfriend and cousin, two of his favourite people wrapped into one, in the shape of Maddy; and Carol was his favourite aunt. He was feeling disconsolate and a long way from home.

Carol had followed the directions provided by her friend, to the letter and they arrived at a driveway labelled, ‘Larksmead Cottage.'

'We're there,” she called triumphantly. “Hooray”, was heard to emit from the back, but it was subdued for reasons she understood perfectly.

The cottage, was a detached three bedroom house, with a large garden, garage and its own driveway. It was two miles from Dorchester and about five from Weymouth. It was about eighty years old, but had been sensitively modernised. The front bedroom had an ensuite bathroom, but Maddy and Drew would have to share the main one.

Downstairs there was a kitchen, a dining room and a large lounge. The person who looked after it for Carol's friend, was a Mrs Bugler and she lived in the village. Carol had phoned her to say they were delayed, through Drew's accident, and she had kindly waited for them, to settle them in.

Maddy had managed to find a loose summer skirt for Drew to put over his legs, it was a red floral design which didn't clash too much with his red tee shirt, emblazoned with a picture of a fish on a bicycle. Julie had given it to him for his birthday, with much sniggering. He liked it because the bike had been drawn in some detail and he reckoned it was a Trek.

Girls always smiled at him when he wore it, probably because the picture was so ridiculous, a fish riding a bicycle. One day, someone would probably tell him its origins, until then, ignorance was bliss.

“Thanks for hanging on Mrs Bugler,” said Carol, after she'd welcomed them.

“Gosh, your daughters look so alike, are they twins?”

“No, not really,” responded Carol, Maddy heard and smirked and Drew, absorbed more in his pain than his surroundings, remained oblivious. He was so wrapped-up in his discomfort that he didn't even notice the house-keeper cum caretaker, let alone worry about being seen in a skirt.

Maddy helped him up the stairs, and he lay on a very comfortable bed. She got him some water and he took a pain killer. “Are you alright my Drewbie ?” she asked him, giving him a kiss on the nose.

“It hurts, well stings rather a lot, but I'll have rest and I'm sure it will be better soon.”

“You kids okay? I'm just off to Tesco to get some food in, won't be long.” They heard the door close and Carol drive away.

“Do you want to take the skirt off?”

“Oh yeah, I'd forgotten I had it on. Wonderful isn't it, never been to Dorset before, and here I am in a bloody skirt again.”

“Never mind, Drew, it went okay with your tee shirt,” she laughed.

“What is it with the tee shirt? Why do girls laugh at it?”

“Okay, as you're being so brave, I'll tell you.” She sat alongside him and stroked his hair, he waited but felt sleep flowing over him, the action of the pills and the journey. Maddy's voice droned on nearby, but he wasn't listening to what she said, his mind began to float and sleep engulfed him.

“Wakey- wakey, sleepy head.”

“Wha… um, where am I?”

“In a secret hide-away. We've been kidnapped by white slavers who are going to sell us to a rich Arab Sheik, to keep in his harem.”

“Mad, you been at the Turkish delight again? I've told you about it before,” joked Drew as he came round. “What time is it?”

“Nearly seven, dinner's ready.”

“What is it?”

“Chicken thighs, jacket potatoes, carrots and cauli, with ice cream for pud.”

“Smells good.” Drew went to get off the bed, “Just one problem, I can hardly run about in my boxer shorts can I? “What about my jammies? They're quite loose.”

“Did you actually pack them this time?”

“I think so, I got them from the airing cupboard just before Jules was scared by the spider.”

“What are you on about?”

“I was carrying my pyjamas from the airing cupboard when I heard Jules scream in her bedroom. I rushed in to see what was wrong. She was standing on the bed squealing at a spider. It went under the bed.”

“You don't like spiders either.”

“Yeah, I know. So I got the Dyson.”

“You got the vacuum cleaner to kill a spider?”

“Yeah, to save a damsel in distress.”

“Drew Bond, you take my breath away!”

“I can't help it, being so suave and sophisticated.”

“So suave and sophisticated, you left your pyjamas in your sister's bedroom,” said Maddy rummaging about in his case.

“No prob, I'll sleep in my boxers.”

“There's only one other pair of those, too,” she shrugged, “Oh well, you'll have to borrow my spare nightie.”

“No.”

“Please yourself, I'm going for dinner. It's on the bed if you change your mind.” She dropped the pink silky thing on the bed as she left.

“Hi, Gabs, yours is in the oven keeping warm, watch you don't burn yourself,” called Maddy as Drew walked stiffly into the dining room wearing the night dress. As he reclaimed his meal from the warm oven, he swore he would learn to pack before he left home again.

He had checked his bag. One pair of boxers, two pairs of socks, a toothbrush, a towel, a tee shirt , his Walkman, two CDs and a book. There was also a comb, an afterthought, which he'd ‘borrowed' from his alter ego.

“ Come and sit down, Gaby,” said Carol Peters, patting a chair, “you look really fed up.”

In truth he was close to tears. “I am. Look at me, I'm dressed like a girl again, I've lost my best jeans and shorts, my legs hurt and I wish I hadn't come.”

“Look, flower,” said Carol rubbing his hand,” things will get better. The hospital thought your legs would feel better in a day or two, and we can get you some more jeans or shorts.”

“I suppose so,” said Drew, sniffing back the tears.

“You can borrow my stuff, you know that,” added Maddy, thinking, ‘you always do anyway.' Besides, sometimes it was nice to have a boyfriend and sister rolled into one. She could say things to him as Gaby, she could never discuss with Drew. He was such a sport, and a very gentle boy unless he was racing, then he was ruthless. All his aggression went into his racing; get him off his bike and he was so...easy going. No wonder she loved him so much.

As he ate, Drew became a little brighter in mood. He always enjoyed his food, which made him such a pleasure to feed, thought Carol. He always clears his plate, the ultimate compliment for any cook.

He ate with gusto, which immediately marked some incongruity between his appearance and his manner. He looked like a girl, he ate like a boy, shovelling the food in as if his life depended upon it.

'I must work on that,' thought Maddy, 'just in case he stays in skirts all week.'

Fortunately for Drew, Maddy packed well. It is apparently a recognised statistic that women pack better than men. They plan what they need, they prepare it, they pack it early and they always take far too much. This meant that Mad had packed enough for Gaby to have some choice in what she wore, at least until Drew managed to get some new threads.

Instead of watching the telly, they read or played board or card games. In a cupboard under the stairs they found an old games compendium, with snakes and ladders, draughts, Chinese Chequers and several other games. Neither teenager had played such things for years and would probably have sneered if it had been suggested. But tonight, here in a house where no one knew them, they were having lots of fun.

Carol sat reading a whodunit she spotted on the shelf, one she hadn't read before by Ngaio Marsh, a New Zealander, although the stories were set in England. She paused from her book, the two girls were laughing and shrieking at each other. “Oh Gabs, that's cheating. Tell her, Mum, she's cheating,” shouted Maddy. It was a half- hearted protest, almost strangled by laughter.

She regarded the two. They did look like peas in a pod. She knew Drew was a boy, but he looked so girlish. He was small in stature, and small across the shoulders, yet a bit broader in the beam than most boys. When he'd stood helping with the dishes, from behind his shape looked very female. His bottom and thighs shapely and his waist narrow, emphasising his hips.

Maybe the cycling affected his build, perhaps it was just him, but much of the time he looked more girl than boy, and such a pretty one too. She didn't know if she pitied him or admired the way he seemed to slip into Gaby, so easily. Yet as Drew, he was an alright boy. Well, on a bike he was; then he was like his mum, lethal. Carol watched them for a couple of minutes, playing like six year olds and enjoying themselves so much. Let them be, she thought, they'll have to grow up too fast anyway. The world was a dangerous place, so let them have some fun while innocence lasts.

Drew took another pain killer before he went to bed. He and Maddy were laughing at the games they'd played. He eventually got to sleep, his legs stung, but it eased as the pill took effect.

He dreamt that Maddy and he were playing snakes and ladders, only instead of counters, they were on the board as people. They both wore long silky nightdresses, and the snakes kept trying to catch them. Maddy helped him avoid the boys, they both squealed and called the snakes or was it boys, names? Paul was there, at least, she thought it was Paul, but now he was a snake, trying to catch her, calling her Gaby, professing his undying love for her.

She of course, just squealed with laughter and ran just out of reach with Maddy. It was fun teasing the boys or snakes like this, and both she and Maddy seemed quite good at it. But then they would, they were girls.

Drew awoke, it was dark. He'd been having such fun in his dream teasing the boys. He smiled for a moment, then reality began to assert itself. He was a boy, not a girl. He felt the silky fabric of the nightdress, it was cool and smooth around him. I'm a boy, yeah, right. Then he went back to sleep, but the snakes had gone and he and Maddy were racing on their bikes. She was ahead of him and no matter how hard he tried she kept pulling away from him.

He called to her, “Why are you beating me?” she replied, “Come on girly, try and catch a real woman.”

He was glad when that dream ended because his mother intervened. “It's okay Gaby, just be yourself, your real self, then you will always win.” He liked that dream, but he had no idea what it meant.

Next morning after breakfast, the injured legs were examined and redressed. The blisters were improving, but trousers were out of the question. His jeans were out on the line. They had been soaked all night and Carol had rinsed them out. The coffee stain still showed, but at least he'd soon have the choice of wearing them or not.

Drew had been persuaded to let Maddy do a Gaby makeover on him. He borrowed the same skirt, as it was comfortable and she had a suitable top to go with it. The top was a broderie anglaise short sleeved blouse, in white cotton. She had loaned him a bra, which they stuffed with socks, she also provided her spare watch, some bangles and earrings. Minimal makeup and his hair was put in a single high pony tail. Without a medical, no one would ever guess he was a boy. Even Carol shook her head when she saw how Maddy had transformed him, although she had seen it many times before.

What John, her husband, thought about it when he met the boy en femme, she didn't like to ask. No, make that, she didn't want to know. He seemed okay with it, adapting to name changes quite easily. If it looks remotely boy, then call it Drew, if not then, Gaby.

She knew Jenny and Dave were concerned at times, Dave especially so. But they decided to adopt a wait and see approach. Obviously the boy enjoys being a girl sometimes or he wouldn't allow himself to be fooled into it so often. Sometimes Jenny seems to enjoy having two daughters, that worried him a bit, or so he had confided in Carol. But he would wait and see. She thought he was very wise and patient and a good and caring father.

All the family, seemed to accept the boy as a girl, his sister, his grandmother; hell, she'd taken him to Germany and back as a girl, even told the passport control he was undergoing sex reassignment therapy!

“Come on, Mum,” said Maddy, breaking her reverie, “let's get this show on the road.”

“Gaby, you up for this.” Carol asked the simulacrum of her daughter, “how are the legs?”

“Not too bad, thank you.”

“That skirt comfortable?”

“Yeah it's fine, but my trainers are a bit of a giveaway.”

“Okay, let's go get some new shoes for Gaby,” with that, they locked up the cottage and headed for Weymouth.

It was a warm and sunny day, with a light but refreshing breeze coming in off the sea. Whichever way you approach Weymouth, you have to descend a hill from which the English Channel is clearly visible. When it's fine, the sea is blue. There are no rivers of any size here, so the water stays clear.

Running from the Isle of Portland is a pebble spit known as the Chesil Beach. It runs for about fifteen or so miles westwards to West Bay, near Bridport. The further west, the finer the pebbles. Beyond it, Lyme Regis and Charmouth, where the whole cliff is a site of special scientific interest for geological reasons. It is rich fossil bearing shale under the chalk.

Portland is oolitic limestone, where some of the best ammonite fossils have been found. These extinct creatures were similar to squid, and some massive ones have been found in the quarries. These used to be worked by the convicts from the prison in days gone by, nowadays, most of the quarries are closed and those which are still open employ few men and massive machines.

From the top of the Ridgeway, as the South Dorset Ridgeway is called by the locals, one can see the old naval port now being changed into a thriving multi-business and sailing academy. The shallow waters of Portland harbour play host to the sailing school and another one for windsurfing, now also doing kite surfing. The water runs under the old Ferrybridge, into the Fleet, a long lagoon which lies between Chesil Beach and the shore. It was here that the Dambusters practiced with dummy bombs, as the shape and size of them evolved from their trials.

Along the top of the Ridgeway are many tumuli, including round barrows from the Bronze Age and long ones from the Neolithic. Dorset is steeped in history, going back to the age of the dinosaurs, right up to the present, from stone age man, to Madonna. A small county, compared to those which surround it, but a very interesting one, whose population doubles in summer, as does the price of its car parks.

“Crikey,” said Carol, “I only want to park the car, not mortgage it.” She was referring to the price of parking. “Oh well,” she paid for four hours.. “Right you two, we have to be back here by two o'clock, or we get hanged, drawn and quartered.”

“Yes boss,” called Maddy, mock saluting her mother. “Is there enough here to keep us going that long?”

There was, and that was just the shops. Gaby chose a pair of cheapo sneakers and some sandals in white, to get through the week, just in case. She also had to buy herself a bra and some knickers, which she did with Maddy's help. Carol left them to it, she went to the bank, to get some more cash out.

Then it was around the shops, the usual chain stores and some little local boutiques and other shops. They had lunch in a café called, “The House at Pooh Corner.” It was alright, but Gaby relished the prospect of a Peters' meal that evening.

They found some books in Smiths, and some more clothes. “Maddy, do you really need…” she was wasting her breath, so Gaby followed along, finally in New Look, succumbing to a tee shirt, which Jules would like, which said, ‘Never mind love, I'd rather fall in chocolate'. She laughed at the one which proclaimed, ‘Men have feelings too; but who cares?' then she thought about it, and wondered if she might just be overdoing the role play?

Maddy persuaded her she needed two more tops and another skirt. They couldn't look at jeans or shorts until the legs had healed. The skirt was long and flowing, like the one she had on, only it was blue with tiny white flowers on it. Then Maddy got her to try on a sheath skirt, it fitted like a glove. Carol who also went into the changing area was astonished to confirm what she had suspected earlier about Gaby's shape. She was built like a female, the skirt was beautiful in a pale grey colour; she even agreed to pay for a jacket which almost was a perfect match, which was short and very tailored, emphasising her narrow waist and broad hips. Sadly, this necessitated another pair of shoes, which they found upstairs in New Look, some grey, round-toed, shoes with low heels and beading on the toes.

Quite where she would wear such an ensemble, Carol wasn't at all sure, but she agreed with Maddy, that it was made for Gabs, so they bought it. Perhaps Maddy would be able to wear it afterwards. Who was she kidding?

Why did Drew allow this to happen? How could he let Maddy walk all over him. It was true that when she got the bit between her teeth, she was like an out-of-control steam roller, so stopping her presented certain problems. But he just let it happen, no great resistance, not even much protest.

He had just let her talk him into buying a skirt, he didn't need, let her mother add the jacket and shoes, and conned him into buying the matching bag. He looked like a junior secretary working in an upmarket estate agents' or solicitors' office. The clothes fitted him like gloves, yet were very female in cut. Maddy might have noticed, didn't he? If he did he said nothing.