Dot and Sam3

Dorothy Philpot. Landlady of The Harbour Light pub
Sam Philpot. Drag-queen.
Billy Parkins Doorkeeper.
Jessica Merlot The town’ and county archaeologist.
Josephine MacDonald The town and county archivist
Richard Drummond Town planning inspector
Robert Vincent. Junior planning inspector.

One Sunday evening in the late summer, Dot was leaning with her hip against the back of the bar in her regular corner by the till. It had been a bank holiday weekend and the harbour Light had extended the drag show entertainment to include the Sunday night.

The ‘girls’ had decided to make it an Elizabethan drag night and they had gone all out with voluminous dresses and extravagant hats. Needless to say all the famous characters from the Tudor history managed to make their appearances and Dot was chuckling at the staged ‘argument’ between Good queen Bess and Mary queen of Scots about executions.

As the evening closed, Dot watched the girls from the archaeological societies, making their way to the Porta-cabins provided for the sleeping accommodation. As the girls picked their way across the muddy site, Dot noticed a girl try to squeeze herself between the Stable doors beside the pub then she slipped inside out of sight. The doors had started to sag on their hinges and were in need of restoration after the constant use during the past summer holidays.

Dot knew that any recent ‘finds’ awaiting examination and confirmation, were stored upstairs in the stable loft and, whilst there were no priceless antiques in the loft, there was some stuff of archaeological interest and value to the county and town museums. Indeed, several rusted artefacts had served to confirm or deny a couple of historical theories about the town’s early history.

‘I wonder what she’s up to?’ Dot wondered as she took the keys and a torch to investigate.

Using the proper keys, it took but a moment to slip silently inside the stables and pause to listen, before she heard the soft sounds of somebody up in the loft. Dot debated whether to confront the girl herself or call the police when the sounds up in the loft stopped. Dot strained to hear any more noise but none came so she crept silently up the stairs and paused at the top to take stock. She hesitated to switch her torch on at first but in the deathly silence she finally discerned the soft sound of slow regular breathing.

From the soft wheezing sounds it was apparent that the sleeping girl was either asthmatic or had a chest infection so Dot risked switching on her torch to low power. Although Dot was intimately aware of the layout throughout the stable, the torch guaranteed silence as she picked her way to a stack of large packing cases. There she noticed a gap and on shining the torch into it she saw a sleeping bag with the girl still deeply asleep. From where Dot stood the girl had arranged a comfortable ‘bash’ inside the packing cases and she was now ‘sending home the cows.’

On a packing case beside her head, Dot noticed a small asthma pump set close by. It was obviously to address any asthma attacks during the night.

On realising that the girl was not interested in stealing any of the items found at the digs and knowing that the girl was working regularly as a volunteer on the archaeological dig, Dot decided to creep away and tackle her in the morning.

“Where did you get to?” Sam asked as she shared a cup of tea with Billy the bouncer.

“I’ve just been to the stable next door. The big double door was not secure so I relocated the cross-bar on the outside.”

Sam just nodded and proffered the mug of tea as Sam noted.

“That’s where they keep all the finds from the dig.”
“Yeah but nothing of value, for instance the bronze Tudor cannon went straight to the museum.”

“Well that’s history.” Sam observed. “It’s solid bronze and must weigh a ton. They weren’t going to leave that lying around.”

Dot nodded reflectively and sipped her tea as she considered the girl in the stable loft. She obviously wasn’t stealing but she wasn’t sharing in the communal accommodation and Dot was curious to know why. Tomorrow, she would visit the site and chat to Jessica, the county archaeologist leading the dig. With that Dot made for bed and Sam quickly followed her.

The shared cuddles quickly preoccupied the pair and Dot was soon asleep in Sam’s arms.

At six, Dot was up with the lark and she released the bar on the stable door. Immediately a very stressed young volunteer emerged looking guilty.

“I’ll chat to you after breakfast young lady.”

Panic in the girl’s eyes told Dot there was a story to be told but she had her morning routine to complete and it was ten a.m., when Dot arrived at the dig. Jessica had not yet arrived but the enthusiastic diggers were busy in their own little sections and Dot soon recognised the scruffy cut down Jeans of her illegal lodger as she was bent over an interesting section of dressed stonework.

“Part of the inner cill I think,” Dot offered quietly as she slipped into the excavation ostensibly to examine the stonework.

“The girl’s face shot a frightened stare at Dot as the landlady bent down to maintain some degree of privacy.”

“Yes! It’s the inner cill.” The girl swallowed nervously as Dot leant right in.

“So, would you like to explain?”

“It, it’s a bit private.”

“So are my stables,” Dot replied. “They’re private property and not licensed for bed and board. Why are you sleeping behind the packing cases up in the stable loft?”

“It’s private.”

“I know it’s private, especially when the doors are locked but why do you choose to rough it up in a dusty old stable loft when there’s perfectly good accommodation provided by the council in the porta-cabins? You do realised there’s a serious fire hazard until the stables are converted into a café. The sprinkler system has not been installed yet.”

“I don’t mean that kind of private,” the girl explained, “it’s private to me; - for me that is.”

“Do you mean personal privacy?”

“The girl nodded mutely.”

“Go on.” Dot pressed. “Are you saying you’re embarrassed to undress in front of the other girls or something?”

She nodded again.

“Why?” Dot frowned slightly.

The girl looked up and stared wistfully at the porta-cabins on the far side of the basin that the council had thoughtfully provided for the students to live on site. Dot had signed an agreement to provide food for the students so, during the summer months and college vacation, the archaeologists had formed a vibrant and happy community of mostly girls of college age.
Each evening the Harbour Light rang to the enthusiastic chatter about items found during the excavations for the locks. Still the girl remained silent.

“Well?” Dot pressed softly. “Which college are you from.”

“I’m not,” the girl mumbled almost inaudibly.

“What?” Dot asked again softly for she recognised the girl’s obvious fear. “Your saying you’re not from any college.”

The girl nodded and almost slumped into the area she was examining. Dot extended an arm to catch her then sat her on the stone cill and motioned to Jessica.

“This one seems to have taken ill Jessie; I’ll take her to the pub to recover.”

“Are you sure, there’s a first-aider in the admin cabin.”

“Nah, I’ll see her right, just give me a hand to get her out of the dig.”

“Jessica was a strong sturdy girl who played rugby on weekends so she and Dot had no trouble helping the girl around the basin to the Harbour Light. When Dot had lain her down unconscious on a settee Jessica studied her pale features and asked.

“I’ll get her details when she recovers. We’d best call an ambulance.”

Dot pulled a smile of warning.

“Do you know who she is?”

“Not intimately, I presumed she’s one of the group of students who the council employed for the summer excavation. I’ll check with the register in the admin cabin.”

“I think I’d better chat to her first. She’s coming around. You get back to the dig, the girl’s located what looks like the carved stone inner cill of the lower lock.”

Ever the professional and keen to examine the girl’s find Jessica replied.

“Oh that’s important, it would cause quite a stir because it will give us the length of the lock and a reference point to plan ahead.”

“Well get to it Jess. I’ll see to the girl. She’s got no obvious injury to her body though I think she might be undernourished. There’s no weight to her.”

After chatting briefly about what little was known about the girl, Jessica left as Sam was returning from town. She asked Dot what was going on.

“The girl feinted. I’m waiting for her to recover, there’s no obvious injuries. She was about to tell me something before she collapsed.”

“If she’s unconscious we should call the hospital.” Sam advised.

“Yes, we’ve got that in hand. It’s a one-oh-one call, not urgent; but first, I’d like a quiet chat with the kid. Something’s not right. Can you see to bottling up behind the bar while I sit with her and try to find out what’s wrong?”

“If she’s not fully awake in ten minutes, we’re calling the nine, nine, nine emergency casualty.” Sam declared firmly.

“If you say so darling. I’ll sit with her until then.”

Sam left and within a couple of minutes the girl came around.

“Where am I?”

“You’re in the Harbour Light darling. Lying on my settee. D’you want a cup of tea?”

She sat up and looked around uncertainly while Dot stepped into the kitchen whilst keeping the girl in sight. Within a couple of minutes she brought a mug of sweet, milky tea with some biscuits and the girl took them gratefully.

Once the girl was resettled Dot asked.

“So, Miss mystery. What were you going to tell me before you so inconveniently passed out.”

The girl hesitated in silence with the mug clutched in both hands and Dot took the moment to briefly appraise the girl.

‘Bout sixteen, maybe seventeen; but a young, somewhat undersized seventeen. Skinny but not seriously undernourished, skin a bit spotty and hair poorly maintained but she was clean except for the mud on her legs and the ingrained dirt under her broken nails; probably caused by digging in the dirt.

Her ’cut-off’ jeans and tight vest had all the hallmarks of frequent hand washing while her boots seemed quiet new despite having been tramping in the mud. She was wearing a bra that wasn’t really necessary but the band and shoulder straps fitted reasonably well. Her hat had obviously been bought at a charity shop and finally her frilly ankle socks showed a nod to femininity despite the mud staining the ringlets of lace.

Dot sat silently appraising the girl’s condition and demeanour but not making it obvious. Eventually the girl became uncomfortable with Dot’s silence and she shifted uncertainly as she reached forward to set her empty mug down on the low coffee table.

“What?” She demanded irritably.

“I’m waiting.” Dot replied softly without any tone of aggression or inquisition.

“Waiting for what?”

“Well, your name for starters; which college sent you and what subjects you’re studying. A home address would help too, you look a bit peaky and we might want to advise your parents.”

Dot noticed the girl tense slightly and she surmised the girl had been expecting this.

“It’s all on the work register in the admin cabin.” The girl replied.

“I’m sure it is, and Jessie’s over there checking you out. But why the hesitation. Are you in some sort of trouble?”

“Why d’ you ask?”

“I’m asking the questions, young lady. Now, please, your name?”

The girl seemed to slump imperceptibly so Dot took a more conciliatory tone.

“Look kid. I’m not the police, nor am I the social services but I can’t just keep calling you ‘hey, you’!”

The girl chewed her lip and finally conceded her name.

“It’s Georgina, friends call me Georgie.”

“Georgie,” Dot mulled the name over before replying.

“That works, so why the stable loft? The porta-cabin beds are much more comfortable and cleaner. Plus the lavatories and showers are close to hand. So once again, are you in trouble? I don’t think you’ve broken any serious rules here so far.”

“I like my privacy. I’ve got some problems.”

“Privacy problems?” Dot asked intuitively.

Georgie nodded silently as Dot nodded . Then Dot had a sudden flash of insight.

“This privacy, is it anything to do with nudity?”

Georgie raised weary, nervous eyes as she nodded and Dot slowly realised the issue. She had not been looking for other issues but now she smiled encouragingly.

“And would this nudity have the initials LGBT somewhere in the picture.”

Georgie curled up on the settee as a tear squeezed itself down her cheek.

Dot looked down at the foetal figure and sighed as she scolded herself for not having clocked Georgie’s condition earlier.

‘She of all people should have seen it!’

She sat down on the settee and stroked Georgie’s back as she encouraged her to sit upright.

“So your name is Georgie and your dead name’s George.”

Georgie nodded and asked for another cup of tea. Then Dot realised, Georgie had not had a breakfast. This was an excellent opportunity to break the ice. She stood up and re-entered the kitchen as Sam reappeared with the tea-towel in her hand.

“Bottling’s done; coffee I think.”

“Brunch I reckon. Dot replied directing a significant glance towards Georgie.”

Sam caught the significance as Dot patted her stomach and nodded towards the girl.
 
“Oh!” Sam nodded imperceptibly. “Full Monty is it?”

Dot nodded as she turned to Georgie.

“D ‘you fancy a full breakfast?”

Georgie hesitated before nodding gratefully.

“I can’t pay you.”

“Don’t be stupid girl. I’m not blind. How long have you been homeless?”

“Six months, since I was sixteen and a half.”

“So you’re what? Just turned seventeen then?” Sam observed. “Did your parent’s throw you out?”

“My step-dad did. My mum and real dad broke up when I was nine. The step-dad moved in later and then things turned to shit when I realised I was different. I’ve been looking for my real dad since the step-shit threw me out. I Know he’s believed to be working in these parts.”

“So you’re living rough and looking for him.” Dot finalised Georgie’s story.

Georgie nodded as Sam observed.

“But he could be anywhere in England, - or Scotland or anywhere.”

“Yes,” Georgie confessed in a small tight voice.

Sam sighed as she started to make a meal for the kid.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~