Whatever Next? Chapter 29 by Angharad Copyright© 2022 Angharad

(title picture Andrea Piacquadio)

The rest of the week dragged as Gaby anticipated with joy seeing her dad again. Carol was a brick for looking after them, so was Josie, but when you haven’t seen them for like, forever, which in teenage speak is probably a matter of hours or days, being with your parents is special. This was made all the more so, because of the current setup of her mother being all over the globe racing. So seeing Dave would make an ordinary weekend wonderful.

“Miss Bond, would you care to share your dreamscape with the rest of us?”

“Eh?”

“You seem to be a trifle distracted, doubtless dreaming of racing bikes or the lycra-clad men who sit upon them.” Miss Stokes was a bit of a misandrist, possibly because she’d heard some years ago, a group of youths pondering on whether Volvo had used her as a blueprint for the rear end of their coaches. She therefore despised young pretty women for having no difficulties in attracting boys as much as she despised the boys they attracted. Picking on this pretty thirteen-year-old, in Miss Stokes twisted logic, was therefore reasonable.

“Eh?” Gaby looked at her quizzically.

“By the faraway look in your eye, I can only think you were daydreaming about boys or men—am I right?”

“Um”—Gaby blushed, “Just one, Miss, my dad, he’s coming to visit for the weekend.”

“I see,” said the teacher’s mouth but it wasn’t supported by the look of distrust in her eyes.

“So maybe the arsehole who is trying to kill me will leave me alone for a few days.”

“I beg your pardon, young lady, is there any need for such language in class?”

“How would you describe someone who deals in drugs, is wanted by the police, has already killed one person and keeps phoning you up to threaten you?”

The look on the teacher’s face was priceless and she had long since regretted starting the conversation with the bike dolly sitting in front of her. “I think, decidedly dangerous, might suffice.”

“Okay, so he’s a decided dangerous arsehole.”

“Miss Bond, your deliberate disregard for the rules of classroom etiquette is heading towards a weekend writing an essay on such protocols,” said the teacher loudly trying to regain control of the class of laughing teenagers as well as her own self-control.

“Sorry, Miss,” Gaby thought discretion the better part of valour.

“Very well, this time I’ll accept your apology, now try and concentrate on Mr Shakespeare, if you will. Now then, Mr Murkin, to whom is Cymbeline speaking in that line?”

Gaby settled back down into daydreaming while looking at her textbook. Why did they have to have English literature last thing on a Friday? It’s so bloody boring? Shakespeare—hah—so if it’s so bloody interesting how come there’s no mention of Eddy Merckx? Dave had suggested that Raleigh bikes had been around forever, but no-one in A Midsummer Night’s Dream rides one, or if they did it wasn’t specifically mentioned.

Finally, our heroine was saved by the bell, and she was clear of the classroom in moments, lugging her heavy backpack behind her. Outside she scanned the street for signs of Dave, but he seemed absent as did their car—the aging Passat.

Her mobile started to rumble in her pack and its muted ring tone of Tour de France began emanating from within the pink canvas. She struggled to get it open. It was Dave—her heart sank, he’s probably stuck on the M1 somewhere with road works or an accident.

“Hi, Daddy,” she answered the phone.

“Hi, sweetheart.”

“Where are you?”

“About fifty yards down from you.”

“Where? I can’t see the car,” she spoke frustratedly.

“In the Saab.”

“Oh wow, why didn’t you say?” She simultaneously clicked off her phone and swung the bag over one shoulder before running down towards the Swedish-made car. She saw Dave inside it and heaved at the door handle dropping her bag in the footwell before diving onto her father flinging her arms around his neck.

“Hey, Kiddo, control your enthusiasm will you?” She drew back and sat in the front passenger seat and began crying. “What’s the matter, Kiddo?” he asked putting his arm around her narrow shoulders.

“Everything,” she sobbed. “I wanna go home, I wanna be a boy again.”

“C’mon,” he said, “let’s get Jules and get back to the cottage.”

“She’s gone to work,” Gaby managed before the tears reduced her diction to blubbing.

“Anyone else need a lift?”

“No,” she half said and half hiccupped. Dave started up the car and eased his way through the traffic and out of Dorchester. It was nearly halfway home before Gaby had regained control of herself and she spent several minutes dabbing her eyes with a tissue using the vanity mirror in the sun visor. Dave couldn’t see any boy there at all, even without needing to, she looked just like Jenny or Jules in her actions.

“So how’s school?”

“Boring, why?”

“There’s no substitute for education, you know.”

“Yeah, so you keep telling me.”

“I mean it, young lady.”

She turned to face him in the car, “Dad, I’m a boy, remember?”

The shock of this caused Dave to swerve and nearly hit a cyclist he was overtaking.
“I thought we agreed, you were in Gaby mode until you got home.”

“Yeah, well I’m fed up with it, I wished I’d never let Maddy dress me up that first time,” she said: she because Dave couldn’t see any boy there; from the feminine voice to the girlish exterior, there was no boy there at all visible to Dave. The reaction he expected maybe a year or so ago, was now happening and he felt more confused than ever.

“So what’re you going to do?”

“Come back home with you and go back to school at Warsop.”

“Where are you going to stay?”

“With you and Uncle John.”

“If you come back, everyone will come back.”

“Yeah, so?”

“So, maybe they’d rather wait until the end of term or until the house is ready.”

“It’s alright for them, they don’t have to keep pretending to be a stupid girl,” Gaby looked at the mirror again, “Bugger, my mascara’s run—it’s supposed to be waterproof.”

Dave simply shook his head; going back to being Drew might be more difficult than just a change of clothes and a haircut.

“Me and Harry discovered a drug smuggling ring in Weymouth.”

“You what?” Dave thought he’d misheard what she said.

“We found they were supplying coke in Coke tins.”

Dave thinking it was a joke replied, “What else would you expect to find in them?”

“No, coke—like cocaine, the white powder stuff.”

“What? You happened across coke smugglers?”

“That’s what I was trying to tell you.”

“You keep well away from wherever you saw them, they can be very dangerous.”

“Oh don’t worry, I won’t go near them, we told the police and they can sort it out, I have to get Meadows.”

“Leave him to the police as well.”

“They messed up last time, so this time I’ll have to nab him good and proper.”

“Gabs, please, don’t even think about it.”

“I caught him last time, didn’t I?”

“That was as much by luck as judgment.”

“So I just let him terrorise the whole family, do I?”

“What d’you mean?”

“He’s making threatening phone calls again.”

“Oh is he now?” Dave felt his ire rising. He’d very much like to meet Mr Meadows, preferably when he, Dave, was carrying a pickaxe handle or similar suitable implement.

Dave drove the car into the driveway of the cottage and immediately Carole opened the door and stepped out to meet them. She hugged him and then gave Gaby a hug. “Where’s Maddy?”

Gaby and Dave looked at each other in horror. Then before anyone could say anything, she got out of a car at the end of the drive and began walking up towards them. She’d got a lift with William’s dad so Gaby could be with her dad. Gaby gave her a hug and thanked her.

“Yeah, I know, I’m all heart—your makeup’s a mess,” Maddy said quietly to her cousin.

“Yeah, I’m gonna take it all off in a minute.”

“An’ redo it?”

“What for?”

“What for? Your dad’s here, you could at least make an effort to look nice for him.” Before Gaby, inside whom Drew was trying to emerge, could protest, Maddy had her cousin upstairs and changed into a nice skirt and top, makeup cleaned off and reapplied with more emphasis, hair redone and some jewellery and perfume. Before she allowed Gaby to clomp down the stairs in her high heels, she gave her the once over and nodded. Once more Drew ducked below the parapet and Gaby thanked her cousin for the makeover.

“Wow,” said Dave as his second and younger daughter made an entry, “Are you trying to tell me that we need to go out to dinner this evening?” Carol smirked, she knew the signs women give to men, even their dads, with whom they first practice to flirt.

“But Auntie Carol has made dinner, haven’t you?” Gaby turned and fired the question at her aunt.

“It’s nothing special, look, why don’t you two go off and have dinner together—have a bit of father-daughter time and you could collect Juliet on the way back—I’ll save her a dinner here.”

Dave thought it was a good idea and went up to wash and change after his long drive. Gaby smiled—how could they discuss getting back to being Drew in a pub or restaurant, while looking like a teen model? She felt like stamping her foot, she was a boy dammit. She took a deep breath and caught sight of her nails and gasped. If she rushed upstairs now she could redo them before her dad finished his wash and brush up. She flew up the stairs nearly bowling Maddy over.

“Where’s the fire?”

“Look at my nails—I’ll just die if he sees them like this,” groaned Gaby and disappeared into her bedroom while Maddy sniggered and shook her head.

“Where’s Gaby?” Dave enquired back downstairs.

“She went to get something from her bedroom,” Maddy muttered going to switch the television on. Eventually, Gaby came down still blowing on her nails while trying not to fall down the stairs in her heels.

“I don’t know how you walk in those things,” Dave said as they walked from the car up High East Street to the Italian restaurant where he’d managed to book a table. She held on to his arm for support, her other hand clutching her handbag, her shiny nails catching the light as they walked past the glowing windows of the shops.

“It’s not that hard, even a boy can do it,” she said and Dave took a deep breath, he still hadn’t seen any evidence of a boy since he’d collected her.

“You look really smart, Gaby, your mum would be proud of the way you look.”

“For a boy, it isn’t quite what I had in mind.” She stopped and gazed into a jeweller’s shop on the corner of Cornhill—near where Frederick Treves, the surgeon who looked after the ‘Elephant Man’ had been born and raised. He went on to be surgeon to Queen Victoria.

“Isn’t that beautiful?” she said admiring a silver and crystal bracelet.

“It’s very nice, isn’t it,” Dave agreed. The painted fingertip pointing at the window and the way it was pointing said ‘GIRL’ to him and his confusion deepened. What was all that back in the car about and the way she was showing him matching earrings—they seemed diametrically opposed to each other. Was she schizoid or just remembering old times, before she’d immersed herself in girlhood full-time? He didn’t know and he wasn’t sure he really wanted to think about it, not until he and Jenny could talk things over between them and then speak with Gaby and Juliet. They strolled on towards the restaurant.

The only part of Drew that seemed to be in evidence was appetite. For a girl, and a slender one at that, Gaby could pack it away; eating a pasta starter, lasagne with an extra portion of fries, and a sticky chocolate pudding. Dave contented himself with a minestrone soup and a chicken dish, he didn’t want a dessert and just sipped his beer as she ordered a latte coffee to wash down the tableful of food she’d just devoured.

He looked at her as she returned from the ladies, freshly applied lipstick and a sweet smile. She was so small, but had just eaten enough to keep the Oxford rowing eight happy for a few hours, yet here was he, admittedly approaching middle age and less active than he used to be, developing a paunch even though he watched what he ate—except the curries he and John Peters enjoyed once a week.

As they walked back to the car, she rubbed his belly, “Hmm,” she said and sounded just like her mother.

“I know, I know—it comes with age, okay?” She just giggled in response. Sometimes he hated women, even if one of them happened to be his son.

Back at the car she hugged him, kissed him on the cheek and thanked him for her dinner, which she’d really enjoyed. He smiled and told her he’d enjoyed taking her to dinner and once again repeated that her mother would be proud of her younger daughter. She gave him a funny look but nodded.

They picked Jules up who asked why Gaby was all gussied up, and Dave tactfully defused the situation by saying he’d taken her to dinner and would do the same with Jules the next night. He breathed deeply again and saw his suggestion had averted sibling warfare.

It transpired that in fact, he took Jules out for lunch instead, while Gaby did a couple of hours on Harry’s turbo trainer, working off the carbs from the night before. Harry sat and watched the love of his life sweating as she hit speeds he rarely managed and certainly couldn’t sustain. She was something else he thought as he changed the blocks in his brakes, assisted by his technical adviser who was red faced and dripping on her bike.

For the Saturday evening, Carol did a buffet meal and the boys and their parents were invited. Dave presented Gaby with the bracelet and earrings she’d admired and Jules who’d gone off to John’s for an evening of face-sucking, had persuaded her dad to buy her a new pair of shoes with heels that Jenny would blind him for when she saw them.

Gaby was delighted with her new baubles and to keep Maddy and Carol happy, Dave produced the presents that John had sent down with him for the Peters’ women.

Sunday, Gaby talked her dad into following behind as the four of them did a twenty-mile leg stretch on the bikes. Once or twice, she left them all behind, especially on the steep hill out of Abbotsbury, commonly called the limekiln, which rises gently but continuously and then kicks up to 1:4 as it disappears around a bend. The road is very narrow and he’d been stuck following the others as they struggled behind, only Harry being fit enough to keep on his bike and he was almost stationary at times, the other pair ended up in walking gear, as they pushed their bikes up the steep incline.

Gaby sat on a farm gate at another bend in the road, “I thought you’d all gone home,” she grinned at the others who were red-faced and breathing hard. After a breather and a drink, she led them back home, Dave still lost in admiration for the pocket-sized powerhouse that was his second child, when they arrived there. She could climb and she could sprint, the women of team Appollinaris and the others had better watch out, another couple of years and she’d be a real force to be reckoned with. Then the anxiety and confusion returned, she was a boy dammit, or was she? One day soon, they really would have to sort things out. They really would.