Drew Goes South Chapter 3 by Angharad Copyright© 2022 Angharad

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(title picture Andrea Piacquadio)
“What have I done?” said Gaby, looking fit to burst into tears. “Whatever I do lately seems to go wrong.”

“No it doesn't. You tried to do what you thought was best.” Maddy said softly, trying to comfort her cousin, still gently stroking his head.

“But it wasn't was it? I dropped us in it, instead.”

“It doesn't matter. It's only for a couple of evenings. It's not like you agreed to marry him or anything.”

“Marry him? Yuck!” Gaby made gestures with her fingers down her throat.

“That isn't really very becoming, young lady, and if you do throw up in here, you will have to clean it up and apologise to Mrs Bugler, including telling her how you came to do it.”

Gaby went white for a moment, then blushed, then looked at the floor. “Sorry Auntie Carol.”

“Okay, apologies accepted. Right, where are we going today?”

Gaby felt like saying, ‘Warsop', but that would be totally giving up on things, and that wasn't her or Drew's way of operating at all. She took after her mum, and she was a champion in her own right.

They were just about to explore the map and look for somewhere different, when the phone rang. Carol went off to answer it. The terrible twins could hear her talking, then she stopped and came back into the room.

“That was the two boys again.”

“Are they cancelling?” piped Gaby, hoping that the gods were favouring her for a change.

“No.”

“Bugger!”

“That's enough of that Gaby Bond,” said Carol, then smiling added, “they wanted to know if you want to go biking with them, apparently you can hire a bike in Dorchester.”

“I don't know.” Gaby seemed unusually quiet.

“Were you listening Gabs, Mum used the ‘B' word, and it's a four letter one.”

Mad enthused trying to cheer up the wet blanket her cousin had become.

“I don't know. I can't go in a skirt and besides, hire bikes are usually crap.”

“You can borrow my shorts, and we can at least go and see.”

“I don't know.”

“Well I do. Mum can you take me into Dorchester to this bike shop, I want to go for a bike ride, if Miss Misery doesn't want to come, then she can stay at home with you.”

“If you want. What about you, Gaby? Don't let her force you into anything you don't want to do.”

“I suppose it won't hurt to go and look.”

“Well done, Gabs,” said Maddy hugging her. “Let's go and change.”

Ten minutes later, they set off for Dorchester, and ‘ Dorchester Cycles ' in particular. Not long after, Carol managed to park practically outside, and they went into the shop.

“Can I help you, ladies?” said a smiling young man.

“Yes, I'd like to hire two bikes for the girls for a couple of days.”

“Fine, let's see what we've got in stock in your sizes.” He led them off to the rear of the shop. “Have you done much cycling?”
“
A bit,” answered a relatively quiescent Gaby. At this, Maddy nearly choked, bursting out laughing.

“Something funny?” said the young man defensively.

“I think, I'd better tell you who her mum is.” Said Maddy. The shop assistant just stood expectantly. “Have you heard of Jenny Bond?”

“You mean the ladies world champion?”

“That's the one. This is her daughter, Gaby.”

“That's where I've seen you before, in the Cycling Weekly.”

“You read the comic do you?” asked Gaby, still rather quiet.

“It's practically compulsory here. Let me get the boss.”

He returned triumphantly, with an older man and a young woman. “Guess who her mum is?”

“How would I know?” said the older man. Then to the three customers, “Sorry about this, ladies, he gets these attacks.”

Gaby, thinking of the Ronnie Barker comedy series. 'Open All Hours' , began to smile. All she needed now, was for his name to be Granville, and she probably laugh herself sick.

“If I say her surname is Bond, now can you guess?”

“Bond? Like James Bond?” said the man.

“Her mother, not her father,” urged the younger one.

“Bond. There's only Jenny Bond, the world champion.”

“That's my mother,” sighed Gaby.

“I think we've got her photo upstairs. Pleased to meet you anyway. How can we help.”

“We want to hire a couple of bikes,” said Carol, “for the girls.”

“Right, Gary, see what we've got available, there's a couple of Giants out there.”

Gaby had begun to feel happier and was looking at the stock for sale in the shop, they were mainly Treks. “Can I interest you in one of these, young lady? They're good enough for Lance Armstrong.”

“They're nice bikes.”

“I might be able to offer you a decent discount, after your mother won the Tour Femina and then the Worlds, we sold a fair number of road bikes.”

“I think she has enough already,” said Carol, interrupting the hard sell, “she already has about five bikes. She races.”

“Oh,” said the man, “I'm afraid the hire bikes are mountain bikes, does that matter.”

“No, mountain bikes are fine,” allowed Gaby, “did you say they were Giants?”

“I think so. Where is that boy?” At this Gaby looked at Maddy, who picked up immediately what her cousin was thinking, and they both struggled to resist giggling.

The boy appeared with two nearly new bikes. These should be about right for size, I think.”

“Looks like it said the older man. Those the new stock?”

“Yeah.”

He looked at Carol. “I think we could cut a deal here,” he said, Carol immediately felt a bit dubious. “If you were happy for me to take a few photos of ….”

“Gaby.”

“Yeah, Gaby. Well a few pix of Gaby riding one of our bikes, which we could display in the shop, you know, ‘Jenny Bond's daughter uses our bikes when she's in Dorset'. That sort of thing.”

“I don't know.”

“If you were to allow it, then I would loan you the bikes for your stay here, free of charge. I'd naturally need some ID and a credit card number, just in case they were lost or something, but otherwise it wouldn't cost you a thing save a few minutes.”

“What do you think, Gabs?” asked Carol, not prepared to do anything against Gaby's wishes.

“I suppose it would be just for the shop, and it would save you a few pounds.”

“Which we might need for your dress for the disco,” added Maddy.

Gaby shot Mad a look that would normally cause spontaneous human combustion.

“Oh, alright then,” she said more of resignation than enthusiasm.

Umpteen digital shots were taken outside the front of the shop, with a small crowd gathering to watch what was happening. It dispersed, soon after. “That's brilliant. I'll run you off a copy of each for when you bring the bikes back.”

Carol went in to do the paper work and Gaby and Maddy, went off around the block to try the bikes. They were fine, 24 speed Shimano gears, all terrain tyres, with some suspension in the front forks. They would do, and at last a bit of Drew began to surface, albeit well disguised.

“What do you want to do? Ride back or shall I borrow a bike rack, they did offer.”

“I think we can find our way back, it's only a couple of miles,” said Maddy, much to Drew's amazement.

“Here are your helmets. I'll see you back at the cottage then. Take the key, I'm going to the supermarket up the road. “

They bid her goodbye, and set off for the cottage. The bikes went well and despite the one sizeable hill, they were back in no more than a quarter of an hour. They had barely got in when they heard the phone ringing. Maddy went to answer it.

“I told the boys we'd see them after lunch. They're coming by at two.”

“I hope you know what you're doing,” said Gaby.

“I think we can control a couple of boys between us, we do have the advantage of being girls.”

“You might.”

“Come on, Gabs, it'll be fun.”

“Yeah, like going to the dentist.”

“You've got good teeth.”

“Don't change the subject.”

“I thought you liked our dentist.”

“Only ‘cos he comes to work on a Marin.”

“You and your precious bikes.” They both turned as they heard the car come down the drive. “Here's Mum.”

“It's nearly twelve, I suppose we could have lunch early, it would enable it to go down before you went off on the bikes, and you young lady,” she said referring to Gaby, “remember, the boys are expecting to ride with two girls, so don't go mad.”

“I'm Gaby, she's Mad,” said Gaby smiling, “besides, Mad rides competitively these days, so if they can't keep up, they can't.”

“I despair,” Carol sighed, then changing the subject, said, “What are you wearing to this talk tonight?”

“I hadn't thought about it.”

“Wear the grey, Gabs. It'll look great.”

“It appears my wardrobe adviser has decided,” Gaby said in as posh a voice as she could.

“And what are you wearing under the jacket, just a bra and socks?” quipped Carol.

“Oh hell, we need the blouse you wore yesterday,” panicked Maddy. She suddenly shot upstairs followed by Gaby.

Carol smiled as she went into the kitchen, and the smile turned into a laugh as she emptied the washing machine. She knew where it was, Maddy as usual, was better at dirtying things than washing them.

Upstairs, things were going from frantic to frenzied. “It's here somewhere, I know it is,” she muttered as she poked about in cases and bags. “Where did you leave it Gabs?”

“I put it with the washing.”

“No, I said, where did you leave it?”

“I told you, I put it with the washing.”

“But you never put dirty clothes in the washing at home.”

“I was trying to be helpful.”

“Where's the washing. God, someone has taken it. Where is it?”

“I think I know,” answered Gaby, looking out the bedroom window.

“Where, Miss Clever-dick?” Then following her cousins gaze, saw her mother hanging stuff on the line. “Grrr, I hate it when you're right.” With that, she grabbed her cousin and instigated a tickling fight. By the time Carol had finished hanging the washing on the line, two exhausted teenagers were lying on Gaby's bed.

“Are you really okay about this afters? ‘Cos if you're not, we could cancel,” Maddy was beginning to have second thoughts.

“Nah, it'll be okay. I need some exercise anyway.”

“Just remember we're out for a jaunt, not a training run.”

“I know, I know, I'm not completely stupid.”

“That isn't how it looked earlier on,” said Maddy, followed by something which sounded like “Ooph!” Which is exactly the sort of noise most people make when hit by a pillow.

Lunch came and went, and minutes before two o'clock, the door bell rang. “The boys are punctual, I hope they are as well disciplined in other respects,” thought Carol as she opened the door.

Five minutes afterwards, all four of the teenagers set off on their bikes. “We thought we could go out towards Clouds Hill.”

“Wassat?” asked Gaby.

“It was T.E Lawrence's house.”

“Who?”

“Lawrence of Arabia?”

“Yeah, I saw the film.”

“Well it's his house. He's buried in the churchyard at Moreton.”

“What about his camel?”

“He was knocked off his motorbike not a camel.”

“I was just checking.”

“Do you want to go off into Puddletown Forest or stick to the roads?”

“We don't mind,” said Maddy, refusing to be left out of the conversation.

“Let us know if you get tired,” said Harry, trying to be the gentleman, “or if we're going too fast.”

“We will,” said Gaby sweetly, stifling an evil chuckle.

“I heard that, Gabs,” hissed Maddy, “behave yourself.” Gaby chuckled again by way of reply.

The roads, which were really country lanes, weren't too busy with traffic, nor were they too hilly, so the party made a comfortable progress, Gaby and Mad riding well within themselves.

“You ride pretty well,” said Harry to Maddy.

“Thanks, we ride a bit back home when the polar bears and the Eskimos let us.”

“How far north do you live then?”

“Near Nottingham.”

“Robin Hood country.”

“Yeah, but he's been dead a couple of years now.”

“Like Lawrence?”

“Yeah,” said Maddy.

They stopped to look quickly at Lawrence's grave, then went on towards the Tank Museum at Bovington. “Lawrence used to work there until he was killed.”

“What's Monkey World?” asked Gaby as they passed the sign.

“It's a place where they take monkeys and apes, like a sanctuary. It's quite good, they have all sorts in there. Chimps and Orang-utans, plus lots of smaller monkeys.”

“You've been there then?” asked Maddy.

“Yes,” said Harry.

“We had to smuggle him out, they wanted to keep him,” called William.

“That's very funny coming from a chimp like you,” shouted Harry in reply, then went whizzing past to take the lead. Of course no one passes Gaby and lives, so she shot off after him, hotly pursued by Maddy and William who brought up the rear.

Realising that Gaby was right behind him, Harry made the mistake of thinking he would just push the pace a little more. He did and she was still just behind him. They turned up quite a steep hill, and Harry had to change down a couple of times, he could almost feel Gaby's breath on his back. “Shit,” he thought to himself, “she's better at this than I thought.”

His pace began to drop, and as he looked around Gaby flew past him up the hill, he nearly fell off his bike. Maddy, soon caught him up and passed him as well, calling, “See you up the top.” Harry looked behind him, William was struggling even more than he was.

The girls were nowhere to be seen, when William called, “That was bloody clever, showing off like that.”

“How was I to know they were Supergirl and Wonder Woman?”

The two girls were sat on a seat in a lay-by at the top of the hill. “Hi,” they shouted, “don't we know you from somewhere?.”

The boys pulled over, puffing and panting. “Where….puff…..pant…. did…puff …you…..pant….learn ….to ride…like that?”

“Gaby's National Junior Hill-climb Champion,” said Maddy, with an element of smugness.

“You are joking?” said a rather sheepish looking Harry.

“Fraid not," said Maddy with a beaming smile.

“Don't tell me, you came runner up?” said an embarrassed William.

“No, I'll stick to road racing.”

“You're not a champion at that are you?”

“No, but she's pretty good,” quipped Gaby, before Maddy offered them any more data which could be checked and give the game away.

“Do you race too?” asked William to Gaby, “I mean, apart from riding up mountains?”

“A bit,” she cut Maddy off with a glance not seen by the boys.

“I'll bet you are pretty good, judging by the way you left me for dead,” said Harry.

“Surprise is always useful. You didn't know anything about me, I could tell by the way you ride that you don't race. I could have taken you at any time, but gave you a chance to prove me wrong. You didn't, so I overtook you. I hope you don't mind.”

“Not at all,” said Harry, “you can overtake me anytime.”

Deciding to treat the remark with the contempt it deserved, Gaby simply said, “Where next?”

From then on, she and Maddy led, setting a pace which had the boys struggling to stay in sight of them, let alone in touch. They followed the signs to Dorchester, and turned off for their village. Once the village was in sight, Gaby turned on the power and was home five minutes before Maddy, who in turn was back ten minutes before the boys, who nearly fell off their bikes at the end.

The girls were standing with a tray of drinks, by the time the boys got back. “Where shall we go tomorrow then?” asked Gaby, while Maddy smiled into her drink of orange squash.

The boys, with aching and tired limbs eventually left, promising to come back for six forty-five to go to the talk at the Dorset County Museum, on Maiden Castle.

Meanwhile, the girls had a snack and then fought over who got the shower first. Maddy won that one.

At six-thirty, they were all ready, well Maddy was putting the finishing touches to Gaby's makeup. “It's about time you learned how to do this yourself,” she said putting the top back on the pale pink lipstick.

“No way,” said an unmistakable Drew.

“Why not?”

“Each time you con me into this, I swear it'll be the last.”

“But there's part of you which enjoys it isn't there?”

“No.”

“What not even the fooling of people like Pinky and Perky?”

“Well alright, a little bit.”

“See, I knew you enjoyed it a bit, and you like the cheerleading.”

“That's different.”

“What's different, apart from the skirts are shorter.”

“I enjoy the workout, it's good training.”

“Except you wear a bra and a short skirt.”

“You know what I mean.”

Carol appeared, “they're here. Gosh, you two look like a million dollars.”

“What all green and wrinkled?” joked Maddy.

“No silly, you both look stunning.” They did too. Gaby was in the grey suit with the white blouse. Legs brown from cycling were bare, and she wore the shoes they'd bought to match, together with the little grey bag. Maddy, wore a red striped dress, with a sweetheart neck, black shoes and bag. Carol wore a pair of linen trousers and beige cardigan.

The driver, whom they took to be William's dad rang the bell. “Hi,” he said, “I'm Geoff Bugler.”

Carol shook hands with him, “Carol Peters, my daughter Maddy and my niece Gaby Bond.” They all smiled at each other. They got to his Toyota people carrier; inside were the boys with William's mother, Joyce. They were all introduced then set off for the museum.

“You girls look very smart,” said Joyce Bugler.

Maddy said, “Thanks”, while Gaby blushed.

“You look like twins, don't they Geoff?”

“A pair of crackers, eh boys?”

“Do they get taken as such often, Carol?”

“Sometimes, depends on what they're wearing.”

Gaby smiled inwardly at this remark, thinking, “Yeah it doesn't happen if I'm in Drew clothes,” although it did, he just preferred to ignore it. If you're on the small side, pretty with longish blond hair, many people will assume you are a girl, even in boy's togs. This was Drew's dilemma, he knew it in his heart, but his way of dealing with it was to pretend it wasn't the case. Ignore it and it will go away. In that regard, he was a typical boy.

While he was in the shower, he examined his genitals. He was small there too, his testicles were very small, and his willie wasn't much to shout about. He remembered how he once managed to get practically everything to push back into his body. Out of curiosity, he tried it again. It happened again. It felt strange, but not uncomfortable. He finished showering, towelled dry, and his genitalia had not popped out again. He sprinkled a covering of talc over his whole body, including his groin. It was all still hidden.

He pulled on the knickers they'd bought the day before and the matching bra. He looked in the mirror tiles which made up the bathroom wall. Even without the padding in the bra, he looked like a girl. With no bulge in his knickers, he definitely looked female. From behind, his bum stuck out like a young woman's. This was scary, but of course, it was just the effect of the knickers. In boxers, he'd look as butch as any man. Yeah, just believe it, and it will come true if it isn't already.

He went into the bedroom and Maddy completed the transformation, padding the bra with socks, passing him the clothes he was to wear. She noticed without saying how feminine his movements were as he dressed. She knew he was a boy and she loved him to bits, but no one else would believe it if they saw him like this. It didn't matter to her, she loved him just as much as a girl, perhaps because she knew he was really a boy. She didn't know, and right now she wasn't going to dwell upon it. Whatever happened, it would eventually work itself out, life always did. She knew he was crazy about her too, so between them, they'd be okay. Things would work out, but at this moment he looked like a girl and a very pretty one.

Geoff Bugler managed to park his people carrier in a car park not far from the museum. They simply had to walk up the steps by Waitrose, along the top end of South Street, and cross over High West Street. The Museum was right opposite the pelican crossing they used. It's a Victorian gothic design, but in keeping with the other buildings alongside it, amongst which is the part timbered ‘Judge Jeffreys', now a restaurant, but once the lodgings of the fearsome Lord Chief Justice.

They went in, and Geoff Bugler insisted on paying the nominal entry fees to the talk. As they were selecting their seats, they were spotted by the man whom they'd met on Maiden Castle, he smiled and waved to Carol.

“I see you know all the right people,” said Joyce to Carol.

“What d'you mean? I bumped into him on Maiden Castle. Who is he?”

“He's Dorian Guy, a local expert on Thomas Hardy, he used to lecture at Bournemouth University on archaeology and history, I think. He's on the committee here, if he's doing the talk, it'll be very good. Geoff will know, damn, he's talking to someone up the back.” She motioned for him to come over to them, but he just waved and carried on talking. “Men!” she sighed.

The curator of the museum acted as chair of the meeting, he introduced Dorian Guy, who as a practiced speaker had them all enthralled with tales of Maiden Castle from five thousand years ago to the present.

He told them tales based on the archaeological evidence, he showed them slides, he showed them artefacts; he told them tales of local folklore and ghost stories. He spoke for an hour and a half and no one noticed the time. They were all enthralled, bound to the magic of this champion orator, hanging on his every word. When he stopped, they burst into tumultuous applause.

“That was so good, I enjoyed every moment of it,” said Carol, stretching. Her two charges nodded their agreement. The boys came around, to ask how they liked it.

“If we sneak upstairs to the archaeology gallery, I'll show you the body with the ballista bolt in its spine,” whispered a conspiratorial William. With that, the four teenagers sneaked away towards the stairs and stole up them.

The boys knew the museum very well, and where the aforementioned exhibit was. “Oh that's gross,” said Maddy, when they showed her the skeletal remains of a body presumed to be an iron age native, who was found with the bolt lodged in his spine. It almost certainly killed him, and it was definitely Roman in origin.

“So, he was killed by Julius Caesar?” asked Gaby.

“No, he was years before. He was killed by one of Vespasian's troops firing a giant crossbow thing. It was the Roman equivalent of a heavy machine gun.”

“Kew,” said Gaby.

“Well I think it's gross. Why couldn't they leave the poor man in his grave?” challenged Maddy, “I mean, you lie there for nearly two thousand years and then some bloke with a trowel comes along and digs you up. No wonder it's supposed to be haunted.”

“I've been up there at night and didn't see any ghosts,” chipped in Harry, “Personally, I don't believe in such things.”

“I don't know. I like to keep an open mind,” said Maddy. “What do you think, Gaby?”

“I see my gran all the time,” said Gaby, shivering. The two boys looked on in slight alarm.

“Do you?” asked William, his eyes wide in incredulity.

“Course she does, her gran lives in Cheshire,” said Maddy, and they all laughed.

“Hey you lot, you'd better come on down, we're going in a minute.” The voice belonged to William's dad.

They rejoined the adults, who decided they were going for a drink on the way home. The venue was the Thomas Hardy , a pub named after Admiral Sir Thomas Hardy, who was Nelson's flagship captain, not the Victorian novelist. The pub provided a beer garden, so while the olds talked and drank, the youngsters were able to move about outside.

William pointed out Max Gate , an Edwardian monstrosity, now run by the National Trust, which was built and occupied by Thomas (the novelist) Hardy OM. “He was a miserable old git, whose books are full of people who die in horrible circumstances or live to be old and even more miserable.”

Both girls pulled faces at this summation of the ‘great man's' works. “Apparently the Yanks and the Japs, think he's wunnerful,” said William, using a deliberately exaggerated, and very phoney American accent.

“Yeah, they have like conferences every year, to discuss like, the finer points of his stories," confirmed Harry.

The visitors were absorbed in this tale of foreign adoration, of someone they'd barely heard of. “It's true, you see groups of ‘em standing outside Barclay's Bank in South Street. It's supposed to be where the Mayor of Casterbridge lived. I ask you, how dumb can you get. How can some character from a book ‘live' anywhere?”

“Yeah, like super dumb,” agreed Gaby, “when did Nelson ask to kiss him?”

“He didn't,” said an astonished Harry.

“I always thought Nelson said, ‘Kiss me, Hardy.”

“So they say.”

“So why would he want to kiss some miserable old fart, who wrote dismal stories? Was he, you know, a bit of a…….”

Maddy nearly choked on her glass of cola. “I think you have the wrong Thomas, Gabs. To start with, Nelson died in 1805 at Trafalgar.”

“Yeah, they brought his body home pickled in a barrel of brandy,” added William.

“Yuck,” said Gaby, “I don't like brandy.”

“My dad does,” said William, “he goes over to France once or twice a year and buys loads of it.”

“Isn't that expensive?” asked Maddy.

“Not really, the ferry runs from Weymouth or Poole, they just go for a day trip, a booze cruise, they call it. Apparently, the taxes in France are less than here.”

“Seems a waste of money to me,” said Gaby, thinking of the time she got tiddly at a sleepover with Jules' friends, and they did silly dares and things. “I'd rather spend my dosh on CDs or clothes.” (and not these silly girl clothes) she thought, but didn't say.

“Well I think it's money well spent,” said Harry.

“What on booze?” asked an alarmed Gaby.

“No the clothes thing. I think you look very nice.” He looked her in the eye as he said it.

“What this old thing?” replied a blushing teenager, who refused eye contact, rather gazing at the floor, while Maddy, for the second time that evening, nearly choked on her cola.

“I think Harry fancies you,” said Maddy to Gaby, when they went upstairs.

“Don't be silly, he must be blind, or stupid.” There was bluster in the voice but it didn't quite carry the resonance it required to be congruent with the sentiment. “Anyone can see I'm a boy.”

“Not from where I'm standing,” replied Maddy, “but I still love you. Gi's a hug.” They hugged each other for several moments, Maddy looked into the eyes of the boy she loved, even though they were laden with mascara and eye-shadow. She watched a tear form.

“Do I really look like a girl?” asked Drew desperately trying to hang on in there.

“At the moment you do, but then that's my genius in choosing your clothes and doing your make up,” lied a doting girlfriend, fighting back the lump in her throat which was threatening to make her voice crack

“Yeah, course it is.” The tremor in the voice showed an element of strain that belied the statement. Both knew they were denying the truth, trying to support the other. That is one of the tricks that love plays, and they did love each other, as only teenagers can.

Then Maddy kissed Gaby, or she was kissing the boy who was fast disappearing inside. Drew kissed her back, then he felt a surging in his loins and a sudden pain, he squeaked.

“What's wrong?” asked a concerned Maddy.

“I need to go to the toilet quick.” He excused himself and rushed into the bathroom, locking the door behind him. He desperately pulled up his skirt and his knickers down, then whimpering slightly as he manipulated his penis inside his body, it finally popped back out with a sharp pain. “Jeez, that hurt,” he squeaked to himself, “I won't do that again in a hurry.”

“You all right in there?” asked a voice behind the door.

“Yeah, be out in a minute.”