Drew Goes South Chapter 13 by Angharad Copyright© 2022 Angharad

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(title picture Andrea Piacquadio)

It was nearly six o clock when they returned to the cottage, Maddy spoke with Carol, while Gaby called the number the police had given. Of course, there was no one available but she left a message. “From now on, I'm gonna carry that bloody mobile with me at all times,” she said, to Maddy as she stumped out of the room.

“Better make sure it's waterproof then.”

“What are you on about?” she fired back at Maddy.

“Your mobe, better make sure it's waterproof, or it won't work in the shower.”

Drew stopped and thought through this conversation. Then thought through it again. Then just as he was about to say, ‘Maddy was out of her tree', he recalled his own statement about carrying his mobile phone. The penny dropped. “I didn't mean it literally,” he said frowning.

“Don't frown dear, you'll get wrinkles,” advised Carol as she came in to ask about tea. Drew was feeling a little ‘got at' but ignored it once food was mentioned. He could forgive Carol almost anything except, forgetting to call him for dinner. “So, what would you two like to eat?” asked Carol.

“What have you got?” asked Maddy.

“I can cook or we can go out?”

“If we go out, where and in what? If you cook, what is it?” Maddy asked with all the delicacy of a teenage interrogator, trained by the Inquisition.

“Did you not notice a car parked in the drive?” retorted Carol.

In fact, neither teenager had, although they had come past it. They both ran to the door and escaped through it. Comments of, “Neat”, and “I like the colour,” were heard to come from the drive.

The comments were made about a cherry red Honda car, which they were examining in detail. “Is it a hire car?” asked Drew.

“It's a courtesy car. Mine should be ready by Saturday, and they have loaned me this one. So we could go out somewhere and give it a run.”

Maddy looked at Drew and nodded, “Yeah let's go out somewhere,” she said.

“Okay,” said Carol, “But it means showering and changing into something tidier than shorts and tee shirts.”

Drew was about to ask about the alternatives if they stayed home, but then sniffed an armpit and realised a wash and change was essential anyway. It was simply the thought of wearing something ‘tidy', which presumably meant a repaint job. He found the makeup easy but irksome, an experience shared by many women. However, Maddy had chosen for them; so it was off to the shower.

He got there first and enjoyed the warm water splashing over him. He had felt a little tired earlier, possibly through hunger, now he felt refreshed and ready for anything. Well almost anything. Dressing up in a suit however, was not one of them.

“You don't expect me to wear that, do you?” he squeaked at Maddy.

“No, I just put it out to make it easier for the moths to eat,” she replied.

“It's polyester, so they'll get tummy ache.” As the words came out of his mouth he thought, 'Tummy ache, why did I say that? I'd normally say belly or guts ache. What is happening to me? Am I actually turning into a girl? What's going to happen when I get home? If I talk like this in front of Clive and Paul they'll call me a fairy. But if I talk like a boy down here, they might rumble me and things could be worse. Oh Geez, why did that stupid old bat have to throw coffee all over me?'

“Hello, earth to Gaby, come in,” called Maddy.

“What?”

“I was talking to you and you were miles away. Are you okay?” Her tone showed genuine concern.

“Yeah, I'm fine. I was just thinking about the new bike,” he lied because it was easier than telling the truth. It was however, a plausible one.

“One of these days you'll turn into a bike.”

“As long as it's either yours or the one that wins Le Tour, I don't care.”

“Yuck, fancy having some sweaty Frenchman's bum sat on me for three weeks? Ugh!” Maddy made suitable gestures of horror as she said this, finishing with a shudder.

Drew decided not to pursue the subject, because it didn't appeal to him either. “So where are we going that needs me to wear a suit?”

“Mum has booked us into a nice restaurant.”

“Yeah but it's hardly a board meeting is it? So why the suit?”

“While you were in the shower, washing away all your cares and woes, we had a phone call.”

“So.”

“Aren't you interested in who called?”

“Prince Charles? He owns half of Dorset.”

“Close.” quipped Maddy.

“Eh?” Now Drew was really puzzled. The problem was that Maddy was quite a wind-up merchant, so she could just be taking the piss.

“Get yourself tarted up while I shower, and I'll tell you all about it when I've had mine.” Before he could respond, she disappeared into the bathroom closing the door firmly.

Standing, wearing a towel and dripping was hardly the best way to go and see Carol, so with a sense of having been ‘done' yet again, he dried himself off and dressed in the dreaded suit and grey shoes. He combed his hair, waiting for Maddy to finish it, then sat down and began reapplying his makeup. Without being told, he noticed his nail polish was all chipped, so he cleaned off the old and was reapplying a new coat when Maddy returned.

“Good girl,” said Maddy, not quite patting him on the head, “I was going to say about your nails.” She looked at his make up, “That's good too, although I think a bit of blusher is called for.” Without further ado, she applied it. His hair was next, and she quickly finished drying it and then put it up for him. She made him stand up while she regarded his turnout. “Oh yes, quite the little executive.”

“So, who are we going to meet?”

“The way you're dressed it could be anyone from Brad Pitt down.” She giggled and rushed out of the room, “Don't forget some perfume. Brad would like you to smell nice.” This was followed by distant laughter.

“Aunt Carol, where are we going and who are we going to see?” he found Carol downstairs looking at a map.

“Goodness, you do look smart. That outfit couldn't look nicer if it had been made for you.”

“Thank you. Now please answer my question,” this was said with polite firmness.

“Matt phoned to ask us out to dinner, apparently we have to meet someone from a bike company or other. I don't know, I didn't recognise the name so it didn't mean anything. But we are heading off towards Bournemouth, to a rather nice restaurant attached to a pub. So please, as always act with decorum and don't eat too fast.”

“What is this all about?”

“I don't know dear; use the grey bag please. That one doesn't go with the outfit. Hurry up now.” She paused to call up the stairs, “Hurry up, Madeleine, the meal is tonight.”

“Mad, what is going on? Why all the secrecy?” asked Drew, having changed his handbag to the grey one.

“Have you got everything in there? Make up, money, comb, mobile….”

“Oh shit, I forgot my phone,” said Drew rushing off to his room. “Got it. Now what's going on?” he said rushing back.

“I don't know, something about bikes, Matt spoke to Mum, and we were invited out to a posh restaurant.” She paused to sniff him. “Ummm, Gaby Bond, you'll have Brad eating out of your hand.” She gave him a hug, “Stop worrying about it, just enjoy someone else footing the bill.”

“I'd like to know exactly what is happening. If we're talking about bikes, shouldn't my mum or dad be there?”

“My mum won't let anyone cause you any bother, you know that.”

“I know. Oh bugger, I need to poo,” he said rushing off to the toilet. He was genuinely worried. He had no information, and he was nervous. He didn't know why, but he was. The consequence was the unscheduled bowel movement. Once again he mused over choice of language. Poo was a word he might use in front of his mother, but otherwise ... well. So not only was he worried about this meal, but also his increasingly feminine vocabulary.

The drive eastwards was made in relative silence. Drew had volunteered to sit in the back of the car, and Maddy and Carol, picking up on his tension spoke very little. “Everything is going to be fine, you just wait and see,” was what Carol had said as they departed, but he wasn't sure he believed her.

As they parked in the car park of the pub, he felt almost distant or detached. He also felt a bit sick. He knew he wouldn't eat too fast because he didn't feel like eating at all. The aroma of food coming at them on the light breeze, just made him feel sicker. Sensing his apprehension, Carol held one hand and Maddy, the other.

They walked into the restaurant. “I need to go to the toilet,” he said.

Maddy sussed where they were and helped him along. He wasn't sick, but the diarrhoea had returned. “You okay, Gabs?” enquired his concerned cousin.

“I'd rather be home than here, but I expect I'll survive.”

“If you don't we'll scatter the ashes along the Cuckney Twenty route,” she laughed and gave him a hug. “Come on, girl, let's go meet Brad Pitt.”

“Gaby and Maddy, come and meet a couple of people from the world of cycling. This is Frank Bower the European distributor for Specialized, and this young lady is ….” Gaby shook hands with the large man, then turned to shake hands with his companion.

“Mum? Mum is that you?” Before anyone could say or do anything Drew had thrown his arms around his mother who was hugging him in return. There were tears in both their eyes as they embraced and held each other.

“Why didn't you say you were coming?” said a very quiet voice interspersed with sobs.

“I didn't know until lunchtime I could. I had to do some promotional stuff in Brittany, Matt got to hear of it and well … here I am.”

“This is wonderful, Mum, can you stay?”

“Tonight. I have to fly back tomorrow afternoon.”

“This is brilliant, Mum.”

The others let the reunion continue for a few minutes before Jenny, sensing their discomfort, said, “Right, young lady, we'll catch up later. Let's eat.”

Eventually they ordered, then had to slip off to the loos to repair makeup. “You look wonderful Gaby. That suit, it fits you to perfection,” complimented Jenny.

“It's her fault,” replied Gaby, pointing at Maddy, “She chose it for me.”

“Moi?” said Maddy imitating Miss Piggy from the Muppets, which brought the house down.

The meal was good. Gaby had cream of celery soup, game pie and apple pie with cream. The others feasted similarly. Eventually, the fun stopped and the business began. Drew couldn't have cared less, his nerves had vanished and joy had replaced them.

“We decided to invite you all here because we want to use you, young lady, in our advertising in England and Europe.” This was said by Frank Bower, indicating Gaby, as he spoke. “We decided you would be suitable for Europe as well, if we were able to mention your mother's name. Trading on the mother-daughter relationship. You know, Gaby, daughter of Jenny Bond. That sort of thing. We're trying to increase the number of younger women cycling, and so we need to give them role models.”

At this Maddy and Drew looked at each other. The unspoken message they exchanged was one of amused alarm.

“Wouldn't my brother be a better model?” asked Gaby. “I mean, he's a champion. I haven't done anything.”

“If we were looking to sell bikes to men and boys, he'd be ideal. We're doing okay there, it's girls' and ladies' bikes we want to target.”

“But Mum doesn't ride one of your bikes.”

“I know, it's sad but she already has a sponsor. So, we are using you, because we can say, “Gaby, daughter of world champion, Jenny Bond.”

“Is it legal to sponsor a minor?” asked Gaby, wondering if she should have qualified it with, ‘cross dressing'. However, this didn't seem the appropriate time or place.

“There is no problem with that whatsoever. Diaper companies sponsor babies with their nursery requisites. So, I think you'll be okay.” Once more Maddy and Drew exchanged glances.

“What will this entail for my daughter; remembering she is still at school?” asked Jenny.

“A few photos we can use in our promotional material, and riding one of our bikes in any races she enters. We will of course supply the bikes as part of the arrangement.”

“What one of the new carbon frames?” asked Drew, feeling less antipathetic to the deal.

“When it became available, of course.”

“We have one here already, remember I'm riding it on Sunday.”

“I'm well aware of that Miss Bond, however, that is a pre-production model and the eventual finished product could be quite different. Besides, we're using it as a demonstration model.”

“Oh,” said the wunderkind.

“I take it that first impressions have been favourable?” said Bower with a sparkle in his voice.

“Nah, it's rubbish but I'll give you a tenner for it,” quipped back Gaby.

Bower looked askance at Matt, who said,” She means, she'll give you ten pounds for it. A tenner, ten pounds.” Bower's frown lifted, turning into a smile.

“Have you any idea what it costs to develop a new model?” Nobody knew, which was irrelevant, because he was going to tell them anyway. “About a million dollars, give or take the odd hundred thousand. That bike you are riding Miss Bond is worth about a hundred and fifty thousand dollars in development costs.”

Gaby sat with mouth wide open. Eventually gaining enough composure to say, ”You're joking!”
“
No, I'm deadly serious. Now, do you understand why you can't keep it?”

“I think so. But the production bikes will be about fifteen hundred pounds.”

“Somewhere about that price I believe: and young lady if you agree to it, you will be the person who launches them here in England and also in Europe.”

“What? Me?”

“The same.”

Gaby now looked at Jenny who was smiling widely back, as if to say, ‘now you know what it feels like'.

“I'll need to have much more detail of time involved and dates before we can sanction this," said Jenny..

“Mrs Bond, of course, we'll discuss those as soon as we know what they are ourselves; plus remuneration etcetera. This meeting was about feasibility and principle. Having met your lovely daughter; I'm sure she will be eminently suitable for our needs.”

“It's hers I'm most concerned about, as you will appreciate.”

“Of course you are, so are we. We are a company with a proud reputation for doing things right. From the cycles we make to the shops who sell them, our reputation is important, which I'm sure you appreciate.”

Soon after the meeting ended with Matt taking his guest off to his hotel and Jenny joining her family for the trip back to the cottage. As they walked back to the car she said, “I can't believe how grown up you look in that suit. Quite the young businesswoman.”

“Underneath it I'm still the same, Mum.”

“I know love, I know.” They were arm in arm, and she squeezed him gently. “I don't know Chuck, I shall have to look to my laurels if they start sponsoring my daughter.”

“Don't be silly, Mum, how can they sponsor me? I don't exist; which I'm sure they'll soon discover. It could affect your reputation too. I think after this weekend, Gaby has to disappear once and for all.”

“You can't, what about the cheerleaders?” said Maddy, aghast.

“Just watch me,” said Drew, despite the very feminine appearance, it was a boy who spoke.

“We'll see,” said his mother quietly, “Let's get home.”

Drew clung to his mother all the way home; sitting together in the back of the car, he cuddled in and began to snooze; feeling warm and safe. She unconsciously stroked the back of his neck, soothing the tension he'd felt. He was aware of voices, but not what was said. He was with his mother, and safe.

“Come on, baby girl, we're home,” cooed his mother, “Come on, we're there.” Everyone else went ‘aahh' at his sleeping form being disturbed.

They went into the house, and Drew and Maddy were asked to make a pot of tea, while Carol showed Jenny around. It was well brewed when they returned to drink it.

“Sorry, my fault,” said Jenny, “We were making up my bed.”

“You're not serious about this sponsorship thing, are you, Mum?” asked Drew.

“Gaby, I am far too tired to even think about such things, let alone discuss them. I'm going to drink this tea then I'm off to my bed, and you, young woman should do the same.”

“I'm not a girl, why does everybody keep treating me like one?” whined Drew.

“From where I'm sitting, you look and sound like a girl, and you are certainly whining like one,” replied his mother.

“I'm going to bed,” Drew almost spat this out as he walked angrily from the room and stamped up the stairs.

Maddy who was going to intercept was stopped by Jenny, “Let her go. It's been a long day.”

“He does have a point,” said Maddy, almost tearfully.

“We agreed that if he was dressed as a girl, he would be addressed and treated as such. He agreed he would behave congruently with his appearance. He or should I say, she, knows the rules. We agreed it because it was safer; everyone knows what to do or say.”

“Yes but,” began Maddy.

“Maddy, there are no exceptions. It is the rule. Otherwise, someone could give the game away and Gaby's feelings would be hurt even more. I didn't ask him to spend two weeks living as a girl, that was his choice.”

“Not entirely,” Maddy replied.

“Did you force him to wear skirts and makeup?”

“No,” Maddy said this looking at the floor.

“So, it was his choice?”

“I suppose it must have been.”

“I know Drew is small and rather pretty for a boy. I'm well aware that he is sometimes mistaken for a girl even when he's in boy mode. But no boy would allow himself to end up in dresses as often as he does, not without sanctioning it. I don't know what he gets out of it, but it must be something. I wonder if he isn't sure who or what he is, so his father and I allow him to experiment. We are both concerned for obvious reasons, but any decision made has to be led by Drew or Gaby.”

“Do you think Drew is transsexual?”

“I don't think anything, Maddy, like you, I'm waiting for him or her to tell me.”

“Does it worry you?”

“Of course it does, love, but only with regard to what's best for him and to try and minimise any hurt. At the end of the day, he or she is my child. I love them irrespective of anything else.”

“I'm sure,” said Maddy.

“Maddy,” said Jenny calling her back.

“Let's keep this to ourselves for now.”

“Sure.”

“Promise?”

“Yes, Aunt Jenny, promise.”

The noises from upstairs had stopped for several minutes before Maddy went up. Drew's room was in darkness with the door shut. She paused outside it, but hearing nothing she went to her own room and then to bed.

Jenny looked in half an hour later, he was asleep curled around a soft toy, his silky nightdress shimmering in the light which came through the crack in the door. She tucked him in, kissed him gently on the forehead and wished him a good night. He moved slightly as she spoke. She watched him for a moment; her sense of guilt not helped by knowing how much he missed her. He was a pretty kid, a decent kid. She hoped he would resolve his gender question soon, but she wouldn't hurry him. She kissed him again and left.

In his dream Drew was lying on a gurney. “Where are you taking me?” he asked the masked person pushing it. There was no answer, he knew where it was going. He tried to get off, but he couldn't. He couldn't get his feet off the pedals. He undid his cycling shoes, but his feet were stuck in them and his shoes to the pedals. No matter how much he struggled they would not come off.

Outside the double doors marked ‘theatre' stood his mother and Mr Bower, they were shaking hands. “It's alright, Gaby, you can keep the bike once you've become a proper girl.”

“We know all about you,” said Mr Bower, “as your little problem is being sorted it won't make any difference to the arrangement, although I realise you won't be cycling for us for a week or two. But hey, that's okay.”

He struggled some more but couldn't get free. A nurse was coming toward him with a huge syringe. He was terrified, and as she was about to jab it in him, he screamed.

He awoke bathed in sweat with his feet tangled in the bedclothes. The noise of a scream had awoken him. His mother was at his bedside. No that was a dream, his mother was in Germany.

She touched him and he jumped and screamed again. She held him, “It's alright sweetheart, Mummy's here. You had a bad dream, but it's all right now.” As she held him he began to sob against her breast. He was obviously troubled. Was it her absence that caused it? She felt tears forming in her own eyes. Did she need to give up her career and come back for the kids? Life is such a bitch.