Drew Goes South Chapter 6 by Angharad Copyright© 2022 Angharad

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(title picture Andrea Piacquadio)

The giggling and kissing stopped when Carol was heard moving around. After showers and breakfasts, there was a general consensus to go and see the bike shop. They were working out where it was on the street map they’d found in the house, when there was a ring at the doorbell.

Maddy went to answer it. She came back rather quickly, “There’s two police officers at the door.”

Carol and Gaby turned around quickly and looked stunned. Each thought, “Oh my goodness, what do they want? Have I done something wrong, has someone had an accident or been taken ill?” A moment later Carol said, “I’d better come and see what’s happened.”

She went to the door. There was a uniformed policeman and a similarly clad WPC. “Can I help you officers?” she said to them.

“Good morning Madam, are you Mrs Peters?”

“Oh no has something happened to John?” she felt an emptiness in the pit of her stomach.

“No madam, nothing like that, I’m just establishing that we’ve come to the right address. It’s about something that happened at the village disco last evening, which we have been asked to investigate.”

“Does this concern my daughter and her cousin?”

“If they are Maddy and Gaby,” he said looking at his notebook, “then yes it does.”

“You’d better come in. Girls, the police want a word with you.” called Carol as she led them into the sitting room. “I presume it’s in order for me to stay while you talk to them?”

“Perfectly.” The policeman said to Carol, then to the children, “Hello girls, I’m Constable Ben Martin, and this is, Constable Andrea Smith.” There were nods and subdued responses from the two kids.

“Shall we all sit down?” suggested Andrea. They all did so, the three interviewees feeling very nervous. “Please don’t worry,” she continued, “none of you has done anything wrong. We got your names and address from Harry Palmer, with whom you attended the disco last night, yes?”

Both girls nodded.

“While you were there, someone collapsed, yes?”

They both nodded again, looking very serious.

“Is he okay?” asked a very anxious Gaby, worrying if the CPR she had assisted in, had caused a problem.

“I don’t know for certain, but I haven’t been told any different. He was very poorly when we were asked to investigate by his parents.” Andrea looked at Ben for confirmation, and he nodded back to her.

Gaby did the same with Maddy, both felt extremely uncomfortable.

Andrea began again,” According to a paramedic who attended, a boy and a girl gave assistance to the collapsed boy, and probably saved his life. Our investigations so far have led us to discover that the boy was Harry Palmer and the girl, a Gaby Bond? Is this correct.”

They both nodded agreement.

“Which of you is Gaby Bond?”

Maddy pointed at her cousin, at the same time, Gaby said, “I am.”

“Your prompt action probably saved his life, so well done young lady.” She smiled at Gaby, who blushing acknowledged the compliment. “Where did you learn to do that?”

“At school.”

“Well done your school.” She continued smiling. “I believe you also told the paramedic something, it was you wasn’t it?”

“Yes, it was me.” Gaby recalled what she had said to the paramedic, but what was worrying her was what should she be telling the police about herself, and would they discover it if she didn’t? If they did would it matter? She decided not to say anything.

“Can you tell us what you told the paramedic?”

“Yeah. I noticed the boy was drinking lots of water, like really lots, like two litres.”

“That is a lot. Carry on.”

“He danced like someone on drugs, and then he drank some more. Then he danced and fell over. Some girls screamed and we all went to see what happened, then Harry examined him told someone to call an ambulance and we did our bit, then the ambulance came, took over and I told the other paramedic who turned up what I’d seen. I just wondered if he had taken something.”

“Like what?”

“Oh I don’t know, Ecstasy, or whatever they call it. I don’t have anything to do with drugs but I know others do.”

“You have very good observational skills, young lady.” Gaby blushed again as the WPC said this. “Did you notice him taking anything or being with anyone else?”

“No, I didn’t notice him at all until he seemed to be drinking so much.”

“Okay, that’s great. Now Maddy, did you see anything? Try and think yourself back to last night.”

Maddy closed her eyes and imagined herself back at the hall. “Now can you see anything.”

“Only the boy collapsing.”

“Anything before that?”

“Not really, I was talking to William before that.”

“William Bugler?”

“Yes.”

“As you can imagine we are anxious to trace who gave the pills to the boy. His name is Steve Miller, by the way. They nearly killed him, so it is serious. So if you think of anything which can help us, let us know at this number.” She handed Maddy a business card with her number on it. “The same number will find my colleague Ben Martin.” she pointed at her colleague to remind them who he was.

“Keep your eyes and ears open, and if you hear or see anything, please let us know. This isn’t a game, next time someone could die.”

They all agreed, and the two police officers, thanked them for their help, then left.

“What was that all about?” demanded Carol, “I nearly died when they knew our names, I suppose Harry or William told them.”

The dynamic duo recounted what had happened including the contretemps with Cheeseman.

“So this is why you’ve decided to race on Sunday?” asked Carol of Gaby.

“Partly.”

“And..”

“And partly because I fancy a race. No one here knows who I really am, so it’s a bit of a laugh. It’s not an official race, so it doesn’t really matter if I win or not. I just want to beat 'Cheesecake'.”

“It’s beginning to sound personal, Gaby. Is that a good idea?”

“Oh yes. I’m gonna beat that big ape if I have to ride the Giant.”

“Well, I think that shop has profited from you more than enough, let's go and meet the opposition, see what they can offer.” They checked the map, and off they went.

‘Weymouth Bikes’, turned out to be called ‘South Coast Bikes’, it was run by Matt Davis, who was a tall, pleasant man in his forties. He knew his bikes, his business partner was Tim Tyler, who was the specialist mechanic. They both still rode regularly, and had raced in their youth.

“We are delighted to meet the daughter of Jenny Bond,” said Matt, I believe your brother is pretty useful on a bike too.”

“Yeah, he’s okay,” said Drew, talking about himself, and feeling a little worried.

“Well I think he’s wonderful,” piped Maddy, taking the attention to herself and off Gaby, “but then I would, he’s my boyfriend.”

“Gosh you two look alike.”

“We’re cousins,” said Maddy.

“Do you ride as well?” asked Tim, who until now had been pretty quiet.

“Not like my cousins,” answered Mad.

“She does, she just doesn’t believe it yet,” trumped Gaby.

“Does this mean we’ve got to find two bikes then?” asked Matt.

“No, I’m not riding in this race.”

“I think you should,” said Gaby.

“No, and that’s final. I’ll do what I can to help, but that’s it.” Maddy sounded just like her mum when she had made up her mind. Drew decided not to push his luck.

“What sort of bike do you normally ride?” asked Tim of Gaby.

“A Tifosi frame with Campag wheel set,” said Gaby.

“Very nice. I don’t suppose you brought it with you?”

“No, that’s why we borrowed the Giant’s from Dorchester.”

“What size frame? I’d think about a fifty two.”

“Yes.”

“Thought so,” said Tim, “I’ve only got a Specialized in that size, in a ladies. It’s a nice bike, twenty four speed, carbon front forks and seat post.”

“Sounds nice, I’ve never ridden one,” said Gaby.

“They use them for triathlons quite a bit round here, sold three last year for that alone. Want to see?”

“Please.”

Tim came back into the shop two minutes later from the back, with the red racer. Gaby was suitably impressed, “Can I give it a try?”

“Sure, I’ll come up the road with you,” said Matt, grabbing his own Specialized. “You see, I walk the talk.”

They took the bikes down the main road, turned off into a side street and up a short hill. “I’m not used to this high ratio, what is it, fifty two eleven?”

“Yeah, it takes a bit of getting used to, and it helps them fly downhill.”

“It’s hard work, but it goes a bit,” said Gaby dropping down a gear and zooming off.

“You’ve done this before, lass,” Matt said having to work quite hard to catch her.

“I have a good teacher.”

“I’ll bet,” said Matt, “shall we head back in case the others think I’ve run off with you.”

A few minutes later, they were discussing the detail of the sponsorship. “We’ll loan you the bike until after the race so you can get used to it. We’ll provide your back up,. We’ll also provide you with Specialized riding kit, including shoes. Do you want toe clips or blocks?”

Gaby went for the toe clips.

“You get to keep everything except the bike. As it’s a charity race we also provide hundred quid for the charity. In return, we will take a few pictures of you during the race, and hopefully of you doing reasonably well at the end. If you win, and there will be some stiff opposition, but if you win the ladies class, we’ll chuck in the bike in return for the publicity we can use in advertising.”

“What is the bike worth?” asked Gaby.

“Five hundred plus. The kit is worth another couple of hundred, which you get just for riding.”

Gaby looked at Carol and Maddy, “What do you think, sounds okay to me.”

“Are you going to be okay with a strange bike for a race?” asked Maddy.

“By Sunday, it won’t be strange.”

“Okay, I only asked, Gabs, don’t bite my head off.”

“Deal?” asked Matt.

“Deal,” said Gaby and they all shook hands on it.

“Right, we’ll go and get some lunch and call back when? What time do you close?”

“It’s Thursday, it’s our late night, so eight tonight.”

“I think we’ll be back before then. We’ll collect the bike and the kit then if that’s okay.”

“Fine, see you later.”

The three intrepid travellers went into Weymouth and did the touristy things, the Sea Life Centre, where you can walk under tanks full of large fish like rays and sharks, see baby turtles and other marine creatures.

They went around the ‘Timewalk’ and saw how Weymouth featured in the Black Death, being the port of entry for the rats which carried the fleas which carried the germ. They saw that it was important in the slave trade and it also featured with Portland in smuggling, mainly things like brandy and silks.

They saw the ‘Diving Museum’, and watched the catamaran ferry arrive, a huge white ship with its twin hulls, which travels to the Channel Islands and northern France.

Carol noticed the time and after an ice cream, they went back for the bike. Gaby was fitted out in a matching red outfit of shorts and top, each bearing the Specialized logo, plus some shoes, a helmet and cycle mitts. The bike had been fitted with a bottle and its container, a computer had also been fitted.

Of course, Drew couldn’t wait to really give the bike a go, so he opted to ride home, well he had all the kit on and five or six miles would give him a chance to play with the gears and, he liked the extra brake levers in the middle of the handlebars. They were really kewl.

The ratio was higher than he was used to, but he played about with the gears and found he could cope with it, including riding up over the Ridgeway, which was a stiff test. He had to drop it into bottom gear, but he made it with no great problem as befits a hill climb champion.

Coming down the other side, he cranked up the gears and it flew, he managed nearly fifty miles an hour at one point, but it was hard work in top gear. Arriving at the cottage, he decided, he liked the bike and if he had the chance to win, he would certainly go for it, even if they had to buy a bike rack to get it home!

The next morning, wearing his new cycling kit and shoes, he was up and out on the new bike. This time he headed up to Dorchester, and took the Yeovil road. A little bit further on, he took the cycle path, and followed it to the turn off for Charminster.

Following this road, he went through Forston, where the Grange had been the original asylum. Without any of the modern drugs, people deemed lunatics had been walked around the courtyard until tired or tied to posts and had cold water thrown over them. The later Herrison hospital had been built in the Victorian age, which more enlightened than its predecessor, had itself been made redundant and was now a village of upmarket apartments and new, rabbit hutch houses.

Next came Godmanstone, which claims to have the smallest pub in England, 'The Smith’s Arms'. Tradition has it that Charles II passed by the Smithy and asked for a drink of beer. The smith refused because he had no licence to sell beer. The king allegedly gave him one there and then to get his drink, and there has been a pub on the spot ever since. Then on to Cerne Abbas and beyond. At Cerne, he stopped to take a couple of photos of the Cerne Giant, a huge chalk carving in the hillside. It is a naked figure of a man with a huge phallus.

The figure was thought to be that of Hercules, because he carries a club, but it has also been discovered by archaeologists, that he had held something in his other hand, which they thought might be a lion skin. The figure is controversial, and some consider it to be far younger than prehistoric, perhaps a later hoax. However, tradition has it that infertile women, if they slept on the phallus would become pregnant. The reason for the uncertainty of origin, is that there are no records relating to the Giant before 1649, according to the notice board. It could be two thousand years old or a mere four hundred!

Gaby smiled when she read this on the sign, thinking, “I could spend a month sat on his willie and I wouldn’t get pregnant, but I’d probably die from exposure.”

Heading round in a big circle, he steered the bike back towards the eastern side of Dorchester. He grumbled to himself about the roughness of some of the roads. The practice of spraying and gritting might be a cheap way of maintaining a surface, which is fine for cars and lorries, but horrid for cyclists.

He noticed the amount of road kill casualties. It was bad enough at home, but here, it was something else. The roads in places were almost carpeted with bashed bunnies, flattened pheasants, hammered hedgehogs and battered badgers.

The roadside banks were littered with burrows of rabbits, foxes and badgers, the spillage tipping out on to the road. As he rode the accompanying murmur of the tyres was punctuated by birdsong. Blackbird, robin, wren gave a regular concert, helped by solos from a yellowhammer and a swallow who flew past him chattering as it went. He’d heard the drumming of the great spotted woodpecker while he photographed the Giant, its staccato hammering, sounding like small arms fire.

Just then a blackbird shot out of a hedge only a yard or two ahead. It’s low, rapid flight made it easy to see how it had evolved to avoid sparrow hawks not traffic, to which it was now particularly vulnerable. Insects popped against his body and the odd one hit his face, after he swallowed the second one, he remembered to keep his mouth shut. He saw a freshly killed greenfinch lying on its back in the middle of the road, he marvelled at its bright yellow and green plumage meaning it was certainly a male bird, not yet despoiled by the ‘wheels of progress’ attached to cars and trucks which would inevitably grind it into the ground.

When riding, once in his cadence, he rarely thought about the act, it was almost automatic, giving him time to think about other things. When riding in a race or time trial, it was different, then you had to stay alert, suss the conditions and other competitors. This near trance state of the training run, was almost a luxury, a day dream. True, it wasn’t as nice as still being in bed, and Drew liked his bed, but it was pleasant nonetheless, and his enjoyment of this aspect, got him out in all winds and weathers. He might be sometimes accused of laziness in school or at home, but never on a bike. He was never a slouch on two wheels.

The sun shone on his back as he approached Dorchester, it felt warm and he was glad to be alive, even with the plastic mounds he had stuck on his chest, thankful for the support of the sports bra Maddy had helped him get, even if it did bite into his shoulders occasionally. The traffic was fairly light so less than half an hour later he was home and in the shower.

“You did twenty five miles according to the computer,” said Maddy as Gaby helped herself to breakfast.

“Yeah, my usual training ride.”

“Where did you go?”

“Up to Cream Abbey, or something like that. There’s a man with a huge willie carved in the hillside, and it shows through with the chalk underneath.”

“Did you take any photos?”

Gaby nodded, having a mouthful of cereal at that second, and pushed the camera towards Maddy.

“Oh my goodness, look at his donger!” exclaimed Maddy, at which point Gaby in mid-swallow, nearly choked to death, and spent a few moments coughing as a consequence.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” cough, cough. “Yeah I’m okay,” said Gaby wiping tears away from her eyes.

“When you’ve finished, we’ll go and do some make up. You can do your own for a change.”

“I’d rather not.”

“Tough, it’s about time you learned the basics, most girls of our age are experts.”

“Yeah, but I’m not a girl, remember, ‘cos sometimes I think you forget.”

“Tell that to the judge.”

“What judge?”

“Oh, Gabs, it’s a figure of speech, like, ‘tell it to the marines’. Sometimes I do wonder about you, maybe if we dyed your hair darker.”

“What for?”

“Well then you wouldn’t be such a dumb blonde.”

Gaby threw her a pout, and the body language was anything but happy.

“Oh come here you big bimbo, gi’s a hug.” They hugged and things were well again.

“Come on, some blue eyeliner, mascara and a bit of lippy, that’s all. You can do that.” Maddy watched as her protégé tentatively applied the cosmetics, tongue protruding as the eyeliner and mascara were used. “Hey that’s really good, from now on you can do your own unless we’re going somewhere special.”

“Oh bum,” said Gaby.

“What are we doing today?” asked Maddy of her mother.

“Well, I’d like to go to Lyme Regis. Jane Austin lived there for a while and it features in Pride and Prejudice. What would you like to do?”

“I don’t mind,” said Maddy. Gaby shrugged shoulders, she was thinking about Sunday and the race.

“Lyme Regis it is then.” Said Carol, and led the way to the car.

Lyme is the furthest point west of the County of Dorsetshire. It’s a pretty little place with, as previously mentioned, associations with Jane Austen. More recently with another writer, John Fowles, who wrote, 'The French Lieutenant’s Woman', the film of which was shot in Lyme. Who can forget Meryl Streep as the tortured heroine who patrolled the Cobb, the inner harbour wall, and spent hours looking out to sea.

Maddy and Carol would certainly have seen it and enjoyed it. Drew would probably have found it more entertaining to look out to sea.

The cliffs around Lyme and Charmouth are notoriously unstable, and the under cliff is frequently closed through landslides. This makes it especially good for fossil hunting, and it is an internationally protected site, for this reason. Back in the nineteenth century, a woman known as Mary Anning, became famous for her discoveries of fossils, including the first complete ichthyosaur, a sort of fishy dinosaur.

Anning became a respected figure in the fledgling science of palaeontology, and her skills and views were sought by collectors and academics alike. Given the period, such status for a woman was unusual, with her humble origins it was extraordinary.

Lyme Regis is also the place where the Duke of Monmouth began his ill fated insurrection, landing at a place still called, Monmouth Beach. His folly caused the deaths of hundreds of people in the south west and finally his own.

The drive to Lyme was uneventful, though with some outstanding views of the English Channel from the high ground either side of Bridport. The road now by- passes the centre of Bridport, a market town whose main claim to fame was in its rope and net works. ‘To be stabbed by a Bridport dagger’, meant one had been hanged, as Gundry’s rope works made the ropes used for executions.

Oblivious of this tit-bit of historical trivia, our three heroines travelled on to Lyme passing through Chideock, with its double whammy of speed cameras at both ends, and Morcombelake where Dorset Nobs are made. The latter are rather hard biscuits, beloved of tourists for the torture of friends and family, who stayed at home, by breaking their teeth. Eventually they arrived at their destination and managed to park the car in the big car park near Monmouth Beach.

They walked along the Cobb, went in the fossil shop, where Gaby bought a small fossil as a prezzie for her dad. They explored along the front and in a small boutique, she found a suitably goth type scarf for Juliet. They bought and wrote postcards for all the gang, Gaby writing to Rhod, while Maddy wrote to Ally and Bernie.

They had a fish and chip lunch, sat on the Cobb, feeding the athletic and agile seagulls as they ate with their fingers. A quick exploration of the town meant walking up and down steep hills or steps, lots of them. They found the house where Jane Austen stayed, and discovered that John Fowles had been curator of the museum at one time.

While in the town they had a Dorset cream tea, fresh baked scones with strawberry jam and clotted cream, cholesterol in a pot. They much enjoyed them.

They came back via the coast road between Bridport and Weymouth, arguably one of the most beautiful in the area. Above the road near Burton Bradstock stands a partly ruined tiny house, which was the coastguard look out, watching for smugglers.

Stopping at Abbotsbury, they walked up to St Catherine’s Chapel, a deserted church on a high point overlooking the sea. Probably built on an older pagan site, the chapel is the preserved shell of a church, no longer used for worship.

They went to the sub-tropical gardens, and then to the Swannery. Under English law swans were primarily owned by the Crown, the various guilds and one or two privileged landowners. The Strangways family, who owned much of the coastal area around Abbotsbury, were one such family. The peak time for visitors is when the cygnets are very young, all yellow and fluffy. Sadly, our lot had missed this sentimental experience and had to make do with a quick wander along the Fleet, and a butchers around the Tithe barn, near which is a post showing the height of a tidal wave which devastated the area two hundred years ago. “Tsunamis are nothing new,” said Gaby, pointing to the post.

Tithing, was a system originating with the landowners or churches, where each person had to give one tenth or tithe of their income, be it in money, goods or animals. It preceded such taxes as income tax, nowadays it usually exists in a much smaller form amongst some devout religious communities.

The tithe barn was the place where the goods were stored after collection, bearing in mind that most people in days gone by worked on the land and would thus pay their taxes in agricultural produce.

They had an ice cream and moved through the chocolate box village, to wander around Abbotsbury Fort, another iron age hill fort like Maiden Castle only smaller, with even more stunning views over the channel.

The weather had held, and three footsore and rather weary travellers trudged their way home bearing the take away they had got in Dorchester on the way back to the cottage.

Maddy and Gaby, were similarly attired, shorts and spaghetti strap crop top, which had given definite tan lines to both wearers, as they walked about in the summer sun. Maddy noticed it on Gaby, but thought discretion the better part of valour. Gaby constantly whinged about the ballast she was carrying in front of her, which Maddy initially felt some guilt about, but afterwards felt irritated.

“Look,” she snapped back to the whingeing one, “I have boobs as well, but I don’t keep on about them.”

“Yours I like, you’ve had them a long time, they didn’t just happen one night like someone else we know.”

“Well you’re stuck with them, or should that be, ‘to them’. We can’t do anything about them till we get home, so stop whining. You’re a big girl now.”

“Yeah, this much too big,” retorted Gaby, making gestures about her chest.

“Loads of girls would kill to have a figure like yours,” said Carol, entering the conversation, “especially, the way you eat, like a horse.”

“Complete with nose bag.” Chipped in Maddy, sidestepping the half hearted swipe it provoked.

“Well just tell ‘em to ride their bikes twenty miles every day, and they can borrow these.” Gaby once more gestured to the breast forms.

“Hang on a minute,” said Maddy, “Look at yourself.” She pointed at the mirror. “What do you see?”

“All right you’ve made your point,” responded a down-cast Drew from deep inside the pretty girl who stood before the mirror.

“That wasn’t what I asked. I asked you, what do you see?” Maddy was being assertive again and it unnerved Drew, just enough to make him want to comply. He looked at the floor, refusing to meet her gaze. “Well?”

“You know what I can see, you made me look like it.”

“I admit I helped, but only in part. What do you see?”

“A girl.”

“What sort of girl?”

“What do you want me to say, ‘a hot babe’ or something equally silly?”

“In some people’s estimation, particularly boys, that might be a valid description, why do you think they say it?”

“How do I know?” Under the pretty exterior was a rather frightened boy who was losing touch with himself.

“Because you are. Look at you, pretty face, brilliant figure…” Drew went to interrupt but Maddy stopped him by raising her hand and gesticulating to keep quiet. “You can’t help who or what you are, and I love you for it. You should think yourself lucky you can express your feminine side so easily and so convincingly, and at times you seem to enjoy the experience. I know on Sunday, you are going to enjoy the advantage of surprise it will give you against Cheeseman.”

Gaby nodded at this, and tears were beginning to form in her eyes.

“He will think he’s up against a weaker woman, but like Elizabeth I, inside is the spirit of a lion, as he will find out. It will probably maul him to death.”

Gaby nodded again, the tears now dripping down her nose.

“Oh, Gabs, don’t cry.”

“But I don’t want to be a girl, I don’t want to be pretty or have a figure. I only want to be a normal boy.”

“I know, I know.” soothed Maddy, as she hugged and cuddled with him. “Just a normal boy with tan lines.”

“You what?” exclaimed Drew, looking at himself in the mirror more carefully, “Oh bum.” He tore off the top, and sure enough he was golden brown with thin white stripes down his shoulders. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I just did,” said Maddy feigning astonishment.

“I mean earlier.”

“I didn’t notice them earlier.”

“Oh rats, I’m gonna look stupid when we get back.”

“I think you have a couple of more pressing things to deal with, don’t you?”

Drew looked down at his chest, his breast forms partly hidden by his bra. “Will you look at that figure?” purred Maddy.

When Drew did, he almost fell in love with himself. He was a hot babe, narrow waist, full hips and luxuriant breasts, courtesy of the breast forms. He looked again. “Do boys usually have hips like this?”

“You’re special,” offered Maddy and hugged him again, then kissed him. “No they don’t, nor do they generally have small waists nor narrow shoulders.” She kissed him some more to avoid betraying her thoughts, 'please let me distract him.' She silently prayed, 'so I don’t have to tell him the truth.' Her subterfuge worked.