Lock, stock and barrel.

Isabel. Entrepreneur and asset stripper.
Edward Thorpe Isabel’s father.
Josephine Thorpe Isabel’s mother.
Lucinda Thorpe Isabel’s sister.
Abigail Thorpe Isabel’s 2nd sister
Veronica Thorpe Isabel’s 3rd sister
Jacqueline Thorp Isabel’s youngest sister

As her car approached the last rise of the lonely mountain road before topping the summit, Isabel paused in anticipation of the expected panorama. She had known since long ago in her early childhood that the view from the crest was spectacular as it swept down from the perpetually windy ridge to the cold North Sea.

She also knew that in winter, the view was a rare sight because most winter days, a haze of sea-mist up-draughted from the coast carrying tendrils of chilly sea-fog to finally dissipate in a maelstrom of swirling cloud before disappearing to the west.

She had not travelled this high mountain road since she was a young teenager when she used to cycle for hours to escape the oppressive streets of the small town that she knew to lie in the hollow between the ridge and far shore. She could not see it yet because she had deliberately stopped short of the ridge, mainly to stretch her legs and nibble a sandwich that the hotel had kindly provided earlier that morning.

As the wind and rain pummelled her car, she sat briefly in the warmth and finished her sandwich before reluctantly stepping out into the cold and quickly taking her coat from the boot (trunk). Once wrapped up warm and inured to the elements, she walked the last few yards to the crest and squinted as the rain lashed her face.

As she expected, there was little to see save for the grey slated roofs of the town, beyond which, the rain blotted everything out.

‘Perfect day for a funeral’ she mused as she hurried back to the car.

A few minutes later she booked into the little hotel to confirm her pre-booked reservation then went up to her room. Once unpacked she made the phone-call to the solicitor’s office.

“Hello Marjorie, yes I’m booked into the Drovers arms. I’ll be down at your office at two.”

“Oh, hiya Isabel, you’ve made it then. The will is being read at three, could you make it a little earlier.”

“Okay Marge, I’ll forego lunch and be there by one.”

Minutes later, Isabel was sitting at Marjorie’s desk as her old school friend took the envelope out of her safe and tapped it.

“He was a bugger for keeping secrets, your dad.”

“I’m surprised he even mentioned me. I mean it’s been what, seventeen years?”

“All of that. So what have you been doing with your life? You should have at least kept in touch with me, I mean I was your best friend at school.”

“You were my only friend in school.” Isabel confirmed. “Sadly I had to leave, I couldn’t stand it anymore and I was frightened. My dad called me a pansy and tried forcing me into rugby and soccer. I hated it.”

“But as I recall, you were good at cricket.”

“That was only during the summer. He wanted something to brag about all through the winter. When I finally came right out and told him I hated contact sports, he called me an effing coward gave me the hiding of my life. That’s when I threw the towel in and ran.”

“Yeah, and you caused an uproar in the village, You know what northern pit villages can be like. I got the third-degree big time because everybody reckoned that if anybody would know where you’d gone it would be your best female friend. They all presumed I was your girlfriend.”

Yeah, that’s what I was afraid of so I didn’t implicate you or burden you.

“You could have at least kept in touch. You could have sent me a forwarding address.”

“I didn’t have one. I slept all over, for the first few weeks until I arrived in Manchester.”

“Then what?”

“Best you don’t ask,” Isabel replied softly. “Let’s just say I got by.”

“Well, you’ve obviously prospered; and changed.” Marjorie declared, looking pointedly at Isabel’s expensive outfit. “Though, I would have thought black would have been appropriate.”

Isabel gave twitch of her head and pulled a wry smile.

“I’m not that much into mourning his passing. Grey’s dark enough. I nearly didn’t come. Have you stuck by our agreement.”

“Yes. That’s why I’ve asked you here early. I need to have all your transition documents and amended birth certificate not to mention your passport, old and new. I hope you’ve still got your old passport; I know you had one because you had it when the school went to France.”

“I nearly threw it away after my surgery but the surgeon advised me to keep it in case I travelled to someplace that might demand to see it. Yes, I’ve still got it but it’s a little the worse for wear. Living rough and stuff in the early years you know; the thing got a little bit tatty but it’s readable.

“Where you really on the streets?”

Isabel shrugged. “For a while, yes – not the best of times but thankfully short.”

“How did you get off the streets?”

“Don’t ask.” Isabel replied darkly as she handed over her papers.

“Sorry,” Marjorie replied as she inspected the unfamiliar documents by way of deflecting any further issues.”

“Number seven, that’s a low number for your gender thingy.”

“Yeah, I’d had my surgery years before so I applied pretty much as soon as GRS certificates became the thing.”

“So what were you doing for a living?”

“Bottle boy at first after I got off the streets, then barman, then bargirl and finally drag queen, eventually I bought the joint and made a better job of it than the previous owner.”

“So, a rags to riches story.”

“Not rags dear,” Isabel smiled, “Trannies never wear rags. Leastways, this one didn’t.”

“I thought you said you’re transgendered.”

“I am.”

“But you called yourself a tranny; a transvestite?”

“Nah, I’m pretty loose with the terminology. It doesn’t pay to get too uptight about nouns or pronouns if you want to make it in business. It’s a man’s world so I just had to rub along and accept all the shit stuff that came my way. Political correctness and woke is a latter-day luxury for millennial snowflakes.”

“I won’t begin to ask you to explain all that,” Marjorie replied as she browsed through Isabel’s documents.

Finally she looked up and grinned.

“Well, it’s going to sure put the cat amongst the pigeons. The way the will is worded.”

“Go on.” Isabel frowned slightly.

“I can’t tell you, not before the will is read. It’s in a sealed envelope with a wax stamp.”

“Sounds interesting, any surprises in it; - well I suppose there must be if you’ve taken all this trouble to find me.”

“You’ll see. Ah, this looks like the first of your sisters right now.”

Isabel turned to look out of the window then Marjorie advised her to go and wait in her secretary’s office and out of sight.

“I want you to re-enter this room after they’re all seated. I’ll press the communication buzzer.”

Doing as ordered, Isabel waited in the secretary’s office while listening to the subdued hubbub in the hall as her sisters gathered and entered the board room. She recognised some of the voices but some of the younger ones had not been born when she’ d left. In fact she was left wondering if the younger voices were siblings or nephews and nieces.

Finally the discreet buzz from the secretary’s desk told Isabel to enter and she slipped in un-noticed to take a back seat. After confirming that everybody was present, Marjorie melted the wax seal and took out several identical copies of the will. She handed them to each of the siblings until finally, she only had one remaining in her hand.

It was only when Marjorie made a point of going to the back of the room that most people noticed her hand the last copy of the will to the unknown lady in the smart, two-piece business suit.

Naturally, there were a few puzzled looks as some of Isabel’s sisters joked wonderingly if their philandering dad had perhaps taken up with a younger woman after the acrimonious divorce with their mother.

To that day the four sisters were split about the cause of their parent’s divorce. Their brother’s disappearance being touted as just one of several possible contributory causes. Their mother had been fond of their brother and she had never forgiven their father for driving the boy out.

On the day of the will reading however, it mattered not. The divorce was long passed and the estate sorted. Their father’s share included the crown jewels of the family, namely the large and still successful engineering shop that catered to metal fabrication and machinery repairs for agricultural and earth moving plant over the whole north of England and southern Scotland. The factory even supplied patented attachments and fittings to several international manufacturers who’d been impressed with Isabel’s dad’s innovations.

The trouble was the innovations had not been her dad’s. They had started out as Isabel’s ideas but when the international manufacturers had come calling to buy patent rights, Isabel’s dad had presented them as his and claimed the monies.
Isabel had no legal claim for she had only been thirteen when she had first experimented and fabricated them alone in the workshop.

A couple of months later after the beating from her father, Isabel had run away without ever learning about the successful patents.

The will reading commenced amicably. Many family items seemed to appear in fours and they were named individually for each sister to avoid any animosity. As Marjorie slowly read down the pages there were nods of assent and agreement as favoured articles were despatched to one sister or the other and it seemed their father had proven to be scrupulously fair. By four o’clock the reading had reached the last page and the sisters were getting restless.

“We now come to the factory that your father inherited from your grandfather; I will read the will exactly as it’s written here.”

‘As all of my daughters will understand, It has exercised my mind considerably as to how to share out the property know as Wellstone engineering and fabrication Ltd.

After much soul searching I have decided to divide the factory equally between my children while giving my oldest child the managing directorship and operating control of the company. Dividends will be shared equally amongst my children.

I can think of no fairer way than this and it conforms to the principle of primogeniture. This is my final word.’

Marjorie lowered the last page and looked over her glasses.

“So ladies; have you any questions?”

The sisters looked at each other hesitantly before the older of the four spoke.

“We rather expected that the factory would be sold as a going concern and we’d divide the proceeds four ways. None of us know much about engineering or running factories.”

Marjorie frowned as she cleared her throat.

“Ahem. I’m afraid that would not be the case ladies. I’m going to have to surprise you.”

The four sisters fell silent until the older one asked.

“What do you mean?”

“The proceeds will have to be divided five ways.”

“Five?!”

“Yes, the lady seated behind you is also Edward Thorp’s child.”

The sisters turned as one to gape at the newcomer as she stood.

“Yes girls, you’ve got a sister you never knew you had.” Isabel declared softly.

“Who are you?!” They chorused.

Isabel removed her suit jacket and tugged the cuff of her blouse high enough to reveal an inverted Vee-shaped scar inside her elbow.

“Remember the oak tree and the branch that snapped?”

The two younger sisters remained blank but the older pair gasped softly as childhood memories were wakened and Isabel continued.

“The family picnic by Langford Brook?”

The oldest sister, who had historically always spoken for the sisters in all matters concerning family, whispered Isabel’s old boyhood name.

“Digby?”

“Isabel nodded slowly.”

“We thought you were dead.” The second sister eventually found her voice.

“Not yet Abigail,” Isabel replied. “As you can see, I’m very much alive.”

There was a brief pained silence before the older sister Lucinda spoke again.

“Does mummy know about you?” She asked then instantly answered her own question. “No she doesn’t or she would have been here at least to hear the will being read.”

“Probably,” Isabel observed.

Lucinda, the oldest promptly turned to Marjorie the solicitor as she took out her phone and speed-dialled her mother.

“You obviously knew about this.” Lucinda charged the solicitor.

“I did,” Marjorie admitted but I was held to secrecy by your oldest sister. She said she would not come if I revealed her existence before the will.”

“Hello, Mummy!” Lucinda spoke into her phone.

.............................

“Yes. We’re all at the will reading.”

............................

“Well yes and no.” Lucinda revealed as she put her phone to speaker.

“What’s happened?” Their mother pressed.

“Digby is what’s happened!” She declared as Abigail leaned into the phone.

“He’s turned up for the will Mummy.”

“Digby!” Their mother croaked as emotion took hold.

“Yes!” The sisters chorused, as once again Lucinda took charge.

“You’d better get down here Mummy.”

“Yes Mummy. You’d best get over here.” Isabel added.

There was a short silence before their mother replied uncertainly.

“Is that you Digby?”

“Yes mummy, but my name’s Isabel now.”

“So you did.”

“Yes,” Isabel replied to the unspoken question.

“I always thought you might have. Can I come over?”

“By all means. How long will you be?”

“Give me an hour. Chat to your sisters while you wait.”

Isabel turned to her sisters.

“I’ve got a room at the Drovers Arms. We can wait there.”

“Not so fast ladies.” Marjorie interrupted. “There’s the matter of the will to settle first. You do realise that Miss Isabel is still the oldest child of your father Edward.”

“Of course.”

“And you do realise she’ll be running Thorpe engineering.”

The four sisters turned to study their well-dressed ‘sister’ then slowly concurred by nodding silently as once again, Lucinda spoke for them all.

“Are your confident about running the show Isabel. The factory’s the biggest employer in the town?”

“I’ve had some experience in running my other businesses. I’m sure Thorpe engineering is within my level of competency.”

“But do you know enough about engineering, you know steel fabrication, lathes, machine tools and stuff.”

“Ask mummy when she gets here. Now it’s getting late. We can settle the will another day, shall we retire to the Drover’s Arms? Are you coming Marjorie?”

It was more of an order than a request and Marjorie smiled inwardly as she agreed.

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