Whatever Next? Chapter 25 by Angharad Copyright© 2022 Angharad

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(title picture Andrea Piacquadio)

“So what did Meadows actually say to you?” asked WPC Alice Baker

Gaby was sitting next to Carol, who had an arm protectively round her shoulders. “He called me Barbie.”

“Like the doll?”

“Yes, I s’pose so, I sort of recognised his voice and no one else calls me Barbie.”

“Well the doll is blonde with an impossible figure—you’re blonde and have an amazing figure—I can see the connection, especially for an MCP like Meadows. Do you want to stay here or we could move you to a safe house?”

“He’s never actually got into the house, has he, Auntie Carol?”

“No, but that doesn’t mean he can’t or won’t, sweetie.”

“But wouldn’t that be true of wherever we went?” Gaby addressed this to the young policewoman.

“Shouldn’t be, we’d keep a careful eye on you.”

“Can’t you do that here?” asked the child.

“Theoretically, yes, but nowhere is safe if someone wants to get you that badly; all we can do is minimise the risk.”

“And how do you propose to do that?” Carol demanded.

“We’ll put an intercept on the phone and we’ll have a car drive past every hour.”

“No police in the house, then?”

“It’s not always cost-effective.”

“That’s right money before people—she is thirteen years old and terrified by this—this scum bag.” Carol was getting very red in the face with anger. “Part of me would love him to come round, then I could tell him what I thought of him before I shoved a broom handle up where the sun doesn’t shine.”

Maddy was astonished by her mum’s display of anger, and in her heightened state of anxiety, began to laugh uncontrollably at Carol’s threat—then had to dash off to the cloakroom.

“We had heard rumours that Meadows was back,” Alice acknowledged.

“Thanks for telling us,” retorted Gaby, feeling let down by the police.

“If we’d had a confirmed sighting, we would have done—what you’ve told us confirms it.”

“So what do I do?” asked Gaby.

“Carry on as usual—go to school, ride your bike—isn’t there a race sometime?”

“Can’t say I feel like racing after what he did last time.”

“The Weymouth race?”

“Yeah, he killed Cheeseman, and nearly got me too.”

“We have a video of it in our evidence room. You were fair travelling on that bike.”

“She’s a junior champion,” Maddy remarked.

“What—like a national one?”

“Yeah, but keep it quiet, we don’t want Bryanston to target her during the race,” said Carol.

“Would they? I mean against boys—she looks so small and feminine.”

“That’s her best disguise, she looks hardly big enough to ride a race bike, but she’s like her mother, Jenny—a pocket rocket—and small riders have advantages riding up hills.”

Gaby was impressed that Auntie Carol had obviously understood more about cycling than she let on.

“I’d never thought about that,” Alice admitted, “but it stands to reason, weight ratios and so on.”

Gaby nodded and smiled, maybe she liked this particular policeperson after all. Alice took a statement although no trace could be made beyond the caller’s phone, a solitary call box in Dorchester. SOCOs would be checking it out for fingerprints, she thought—after all, we can’t run a case solely on a teenager’s say so—even one as brave and beautiful as Gaby Bond seemed to be. One question occurred over and over in Alice’s mind—just what had the girl done to her eyebrows?

The police brought Jules home from her job and explained what had happened to her sister. She was justifiably angry and upset—though not necessarily for the reasons the young police driver thought.

“What about my training?” asked Gaby.

“How often do you do that?”

“Every day, before or after school, sometimes both.”

“Okay, I’ll enquire about that, I don’t think we’ll be able to escort you all the time, but given what happened before, I understand your concern. Try not to let this monster get you down, that’s how he gets his kicks—frightening people.”

“He won’t frighten me again,” said Gaby determinedly, “Now I know he’s back, I’ll just have to sort him out again.”

“It was hardly our finest moment was it?” admitted Alice, “you’d think he’d be wiser than he is—you beat him last time...”

“I’ll do it again if he shows up—I’m not scared of him.”

“Be careful, young lady, bravado is all very well, but don’t let overconfidence make you take too many risks.”

“If it’s somebody’s turn to die—then it must be his, ‘cos I like tried it, and didn’t like it much.”

“I heard you’d been very poorly, Gaby, but you seemed to have pulled through it.”

“Winning is what she does,” said Carol, as they escorted Alice to the door of the cottage.

“Let’s hope it continues, good luck for your bike race, I’ll be in touch about the training. Take care, Gaby.”

Sleep did not come easy to the teens that night, Maddy and Gaby lay awake wondering what would happen next; Gaby was tempted to call her dad, but what could he do? Besides he had his hands full as the house was nearing completion so the last thing he needed was the distraction of Meadows running amok.

The next morning Gaby phoned Harry and told him what had happened—Harry had guessed as much when he saw the police car at the cottage. He came to meet the girls with William, whom he’d called immediately after receiving Gaby’s call.

Gaby was dressed in trousers—part of the school uniform these days—so was Maddy, their rivalry temporarily forgotten by the need to face a common threat. The boys hugged the girls and they waited for the bus together, which was a few minutes late.

Just before the bus arrived a police car went by and tooted to the waiting kids, to let them know the police were around. On the bus, they concentrated on just talking with their friends and acquaintances. At least one girl asked Gabs what she had done to her eyebrows and Maddy sniggered.

In the middle of the geography lesson, Gaby was asked to attend the headmistress’s office—she did wondering if she was going to get a rollocking for her absence yesterday. Instead, she saw someone in a police uniform sitting inside the room. Her stomach flipped as she entered the room, only to relax somewhat when she recognised PC Ben Martin.

“Hello, Gaby, he said smiling warmly, “What have you done to your eyebrows?”

“An experiment,” said Gaby resignedly.

“An unsuccessful one, I suspect,” said the headmistress, “Welcome, Gaby, it seems you know PC Martin?”

“Yes, we’ve met before.”

“Indeed we have,” he offered his hand and Gaby shook it gently. “Dangermouse, here, is a secret crime fighter, so we need to call in her help to catch a mean-spirited desperado called Rodney Meadows.”

“I remember Rodney Meadows,” said the headmistress, “he was a horrible child, one of the first I ever tried to teach—completely failed in his case. I’m not surprised he’s turned out as a bad egg, but I am concerned that such a delicate-looking creature as our Gaby, should be mixed up with him.”

“To cut a long story short, Headmistress, he’s been after young Gaby here for ages. She actually captured him for us once, but the creep got away from police custody, somehow.”

“So you want me to get him again, do you? Or act as the bait in your trap?” said Gaby in a very matter-of-fact way—like a swan gliding along effortlessly on the surface of the water, there was total turmoil going on underneath.

“Actually no, I’ve come here to try and arrange some training for your cycle team while we can offer some cover for you.”

“What? You lot are going to send a police car out with us on a training ride? Kewl or what?”

“Ahem, not exactly, Gaby—yours truly, has got volunteered to ride with you on a bike.”

“Last time he rammed us with a 4x4, are you going to be able to stop that?”

“Probably not, but I will be linked up to a camcorder, and wearing a jacket which says Police, back and front.

“That’s gonna protect us innit?” Gaby rolled her eyes.

“It’s the best we can do, girl—either that or you’ll have to call off your rides.”

“It’ll have to do, then.”

“Gaby, that’s not very gracious, is it?” the headmistress glared at Gabs and demanded she apologise.

“Sorry, Mr Martin, I didn’t mean it like it sounded.”

“Apology accepted, I understand—I just wanted you to be able to get on and race and guess who’s got his name down for the race duty?”

“You? Why?”

“I saw you race on the seafront, and I’ve seen your mother ride—on Eurosport—I’d like to see you race again, you have a rare talent.”

Gaby blushed—none of this was news to her, but it still embarrassed her when it was said to her face.

“We were supposed to be riding tomorrow afternoon instead of normal games. I don’t know how many will turn up.”

“What time?” asked Ben.

“One thirty start,” said the headmistress.

“I’ll be here, see you then. Goodbye, ladies.” He got up to leave.

“Thanks, Mr Martin,” said the headmistress.

“Thanks, Ben, see you tomorrow.”

“It seems you’ve got an admirer, young lady,” the headmistress teased her pupil.

Gaby blushed, “I—um—he’s only—um...”

“...Doing his job, of course, he is. Now, young lady, why was I not informed of this threat before?”

“I wasn’t in this school before, and we’d been told Meadows was thought to be abroad.”

“I see. If there’s anything I can do, let me know, won’t you?”

“Yes, ma’am—um, you could come and watch us race at Bryanston.”

“I think I might well come and do that, Gaby—now back to your lessons.”

Of course, the gossip mill was in full production—about the police being in the school and, Gaby’s eyebrows. It was suggested she was disguising herself to escape a jealous boyfriend—before Harry came along. If it hadn’t been so irritating, it would have been funny, it was so far from the truth.

Gaby tried to brazen it out and a packed dining room hushed as she got to the front of the queue. “Good day, ladies, what gustatory tempting comestibles have you for my delectation, today?”

“Gawd, guess who’s swallowed a dictionary,” said one of the dinner ladies almost drowned by the roar of laughter that followed Gaby’s enquiry. “Cauliflower cheese, chicken curry, or salad. Wossit to be then?”

“Ah, is that chicken tikka?” asked Gaby.

“No, it ain’t ticking, now woty’avin’?” Another peal of laughter sounded in the echoing room.

“Macaroni cheese, my good lady.”

“It ain’t macaroni, it’s cauliflower cheese.”

“Hahnchen currygericht, bitte,” replied Gaby.

“Eh?”

“Chicken curry,” called someone from the back to more raucous laughter.

“Why didn’t you say so?” muttered the dinner lady.

“She did,” called the voice from the back.

“Rice or chips?”

“Mit reis, bitte.”

“Too clever for their own good these days—bloody kids,” muttered the dinner lady to herself.

“I didn’t know you could speak German,” said Harry as they sat down to eat their lunches.

“I can’t,” said Gaby tucking into a half-decent meal.

“Coulda fooled me.”

“That’s not ‘ard, Palmer,” teased William.

“Fooled the dinner lady, too,” countered Harry

.
“Oh c’mon, she’s hardly in Stephen Hawkin’s class is she?”

“ Doh! I wish I’d listened to the wheelchair guy,” said Harry doing a passable impression of Homer Simpson.

“So how much German do you know?” asked Harry of his love interest.

“Very little, I won’t actually starve over there, but I’d get awful fed up eating chicken curry and rice pud.”

“What’s rice pud in German?”

“Milchreis.”

“Doesn’t sound as appetising does it.”

“Her mum’s in Germany,” said Maddy to a few students who were standing around their usual table. They nodded their understanding.

After the entertainment of the lunch queue had quietened down, Gaby told the others to bring in their bikes tomorrow for a training ride—she also got messages sent to the other members of her team in the hope they might get some more to turn up, than those present.

The next morning, Geoff Bugler loaded four bikes on his car and took them into school, together with their riders. It promised to be a fine day, so they should have a reasonable ride. Gaby was looking forward to it with mixed feelings. She desperately wanted a ride, but the prospect of being spied on by Meadows, made her flesh creep.

After a light lunch, the cycling team assembled under the watchful gaze of Mrs Smith, the needlework teacher. “Don’t forget, I expect you all to be in my needlework club, tomorrow evening. I see you have a new member.” She spotted the young copper riding across the car park and thought—maybe she should ride something more serious than her old Raleigh shopper?

The group collected and Gaby introduced Ben to everyone, Mrs Smith seemed very anxious to make his acquaintance. The others were brought up to speed on the reason for Ben being there.

“Anyone who doesn’t want to ride, doesn’t have to,” said Gaby, and one or two were less than happy about the increased risk. Harry, William and Maddy stuck by their friend and the others decided to wait and see what happened.

“I suspect some parents will be less than pleased if they find out about this,” said Mrs Smith, and Ben and Gaby shrugged.

“We’ll just have to enter with a smaller team, won’t we?” said Gaby determinedly—she was more set than ever on putting in the performance of her life.

A route was agreed and Ben phoned it through to his colleagues, it was agreed that at various points police vehicles would coincide to offer support and make it more difficult for Meadows to effect an attack.

What they didn’t know was Meadows was nowhere near them; like terrorism, fear needs only to be reinforced now and again. He knew the police would find the phone, and know he was back—he didn’t need to do anything for weeks—let everything relax and then stir it up again.

He was too busy to bother with Gaby, he was in the Midlands negotiating to buy various drugs to supply his on-street agents or pushers as we know them. “That girl has cost me a lot of money in lost trade, revenge will be sweet,” said Rodney to himself as he drove his hire car, up the M5. His forged driving licence and passport had fooled the car hire people, so he felt confident in his disguise of a newly grown beard and heavy-rimmed glasses. After his escape to Spain, he was now calling himself Ronald Field, the irony as he passed through immigration at Plymouth was almost enough to make him laugh out loud, especially on his Harley Davidson motorbike. He couldn’t believe how easy it had been. Now, he needed to build up his business and then sort out the fly in the ointment—neither of them were apparently going anywhere, so he could take his time and enjoy his plan whenever he considered it ready.

For her part, Gaby didn’t believe Meadows was daft enough to try the same blitzkrieg tactics again. She knew he wasn’t as stupid as everyone thought, he was a successful hoodlum, and he had an ability to plan and follow through—his capture of Maddy was a case in point. Gaby also wondered if he was winding her up, wasting police time and when things wound down again, would strike. She couldn’t be sure, and if she got it wrong, she could end up dead—but her intuition, told her she was right. Did that make her a girl or did boys have intuition too?

Seeing Harry riding alongside her, made her think about her conversation with Carol, the day or so before—she really liked him and enjoyed the thought of exciting him in the way she dressed or behaved. He was so easy to excite—she only had to lick her lips and he was practically messing his pants. Boys—they were so predictable—so why wasn’t she as Drew? Was Gaby the real person and Drew, the pretend one? The longer she spent living as Gaby, the worse it seemed to be getting—was she having periods? How could she? You need girly bits for that—then she thought—but you do as well for the oestrogen to make your body female looking.

This stuff was doing her head in, she wouldn’t know unless she saw some doctors and she didn’t really want to confirm anything anyway. If she had girly bits—that could mean she really was female and not Drew. If she didn’t—then how come she looked more like Jenny than Dave? Unless her stupid body didn’t want to be masculine—ignored testosterone or whatever—in which case, she’d never look like a man anyway. It seemed rather like heads they win tails you lose, and she was going to be stuck as Gaby or whatever she was eventually called if she legally became a girl.

“You okay?” Harry asked as they rode.

“Yeah, why?”

“You’re slowing down and you looked preoccupied.”

“Nah, I’m alright, just giving you lot a chance,” after checking everyone was okay, she suddenly upped the pace and left the others for dead, only Harry and Ben held on for more than a few hundred yards and even they dropped off.

“Geez, how long has she had a turbocharger?” asked Ben.

“It’s worse if you’re in the lead and she does it,” answered Harry.

“She’s in a class of her own, isn’t she?” suggested Ben.

“Yep, like her mum—runs in the family, by the look.”

“I think she’s going to be better than her mum, and I’ve seen Jenny Bond ride a few times.”

“Really?” said Harry as they got their breath back and tried again to catch the distant figure who had slowed down to enable them to do so.

“Yeah, except she needs to be a bit more clinical—her mum wouldn’t wait for us.”

“She’s only waiting so when we think we’ve caught her, she’ll be off again. I’ve ridden with her loads of times,” Harry sighed as his tired legs tried to reenergise themselves, and Ben recognised how unfit he’d become since he’d stopped running marathons.