Dot and Sam 38

Dot and Sam 38

Dorothy Philpot. Landlady of The Harbour Light pub
Sam Philpot. Drag-queen and lifelong companion of Dot’s.
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.
Georgina. (Georgie) Homeless Transgender girl previously known as George.
Bobby Gay boy on the school bus.
Marty Girl on the school bus. (She becomes Georgie’s best friend and lover)
Jack. Marty’s twin brother (Keen runner).
Trevor Aitkins, Georgie’s Biological father.
Lucinda Aitkins Georgie’s biological mother
Terence Georgie’s step-dad
Peter Terence’s homophobic son.
Allison. Old school friend of Trevor & Retired Solicitor
Fred Allison’s husband
Elizabeth Aitkins (Beth) Georgie’s younger biological sister. Later proves to be sympathetic to her ‘sister’
Jonathon Aitkins (Johnny) Georgie’s younger biological brother.
Rosie the Rivetter Terf Gang Leader on campus.

Chapter 38

After savouring our chance to enjoy a long, ‘Sunday lie-in’ we trudged into the refectory and took an early lunch. Marty had arranged to meet a student from her biology class and, because I was not taking biology, it left me at a loose end. I decided to chance my arm and check if I could slip in alone to visit Rosie the Rivetter when most students would be possibly eating Sunday lunch.

The college usually put on a good spread on Sundays and it was popular because it was cheap.

When I got to the hospital I was pleasantly surprised to see a group of TERF lieutenants just leaving the ward so I stepped aside and waited inconspicuously as they walked by. After checking with the ward sister I asked her if I could visit. She nodded yes, and I was much pleased to find Rosie alone.

She looked up somewhat concernedly and asked what I wanted.

“Your lieutenants have said you wanted to speak to me about something. Here I am and what is it you wanted.”

“You pick your moments.”

“Happen I do. Now nobody but thee and me will know what was said.”

“I heard you didn’t go on the march.” She remarked pointedly.

“So?”

“Did you know something everybody else didn’t?”

“No. I just listened to the police. They made it pretty obvious they thought there would be trouble; and there was.”

“Yes. The police advised us Terfs not to attend as well.”
“But you still chose to go.” I censured her.

I just spread my palms slightly as I spoke and I shrugged. So far, there was little she had said that concerned me.

“Have you heard that the police thought there was an agent provocateur?”

“Yeah, it’s all over the college by now; and the press. It’s hardly news is it?”

“Do you think there was?” She asked me.

“If the police think so, it’s quite possible. That’s why I didn’t go. Now before anybody else arrives, what was it you wanted to speak to me about?”

“I was thinking calling a truce.”

“I’ve not declared war, it’s you that started it; or some of your cronies.”

“You deceived us into thinking you were a woman.”

“When?”

“When we asked you to join us.”

“No I didn’t, I simply refused to join you.”

“But you didn’t tell us you were ‘trans’.”

“Why should I? I’m living as a woman and I present as a woman. Nobody has ever attacked me for that until I was outed in college.”

“We didn’t know.” She tried to appear apologetic but I wasn’t prepared to accept any apology.

“So the moment I was accidentally ‘outed’ you came after me. One of your cronies even assaulted me or tried to.”

“Well, it’s sort of water under the bridge now. There’s bigger issues with women’s rights what with the Durian protests.”

“Not my problem.” I countered, “Transphobia’s my problem and I’m still owed an apology for that assault. I’ll overlook that though because I never found out who it was but from now on, if you stay away from me, I’ll stay away from you.”

“Is it to be like that then. Don’t you see these Durian students as a threat?”

“To women and LGBT, yes.”

“So you should be supporting us against those people who are trying to stop us attending their marches.”

“I don’t follow your reasoning Rosie. My friend’s friend might well be my friend but my enemy’s enemy is not necessarily my enemy. And anyway Rosie, I don’t count you as a friend and I never will. Your very reason de-etre is to destroy trans-people or at least to make their lives as difficult as possible.

As I say, let’s just keep each other at arm’s length.”

She glared at me but I heard the lift doors operating and that meant more visitors to the wing. They may, or may-not have been Rosie’s visitors, but I chose not to find out. I left the ward and quickly took the stairs to avoid meeting the visitors.

Knowing that Marty was busy, I decided to take the tube then walk around Hyde Park until I was drawn to the crowds on Speakers corner. All the usual suspects were there and I smiled inwardly to myself. As I half listened to arguments being shouted and megaphoned into each other’s faces. ‘-My god’s better than your god-‘ ‘-Mine is the true god; blah, blah, blah!-‘

Most of the arguments were somewhat ‘old hat’ and I just strolled by the groups unless I heard something original about some issue I was not au-fait with. Eventually I settled my butt against some of the waist-high railings as some guy’s protestations caught my attention.

He was going on about God or Allah, I initially could not discern which, but he seemed to have some good counter arguments when the hecklers tried to pour scorn on his arguments. Of course, all his arguments were based upon the premise that there actually was a god but this concept was -water-off-a-duck’s-back, to me.

Inevitably, as happened so often nowadays, the arguments became overheated then some zealot or ‘believer’ took umbrage and tried to assault the orator for bringing ridicule to ‘the faith’. Having sensed the fight coming, I naturally took out my phone and prepared to video the action as things started to take off.

At this juncture, one of the two police-women who had been monitoring speaker’s corner saw me stepping well away from the group as things became more heated. Suddenly as she was watching me step back to climb upon a park seat by the railings, there was a shout from the arguing group and a violent scuffle erupted.

Then the almost inevitable knife appeared in the ‘believers’ hand as he swung his arm. As if by magic, the speakers’ ‘protecters’ were quick to act and the attack was stifled before it really got started, The speaker was dragged off his rostrum and his reference books got scattered but the knife only just sliced across his back and shoulder as the zealot swung his blade clumsily in the crowded semicircle

His immediate attempt to stab the speaker had been interrupted but he was still struggling with the knife in his hand.

Amidst shouts and curses, the zealot was immediately set upon and the ever-present police-women were forced to intervene as a couple of the speakers’ heavies dropped the zealot to the floor and were preparing to do some real mischief with the now confiscated weapon. Immediately the melee began to spread, for after the troubles on the May-day parade, tempers were frayed and anger was high.

Fortunately by then, I had finally managed to step away from the scuffle and stand on one of the few remaining seats with my mobile phone recording the fight as best I could. By now I spotted two more knives and I did my best to track them as blood started to flow. Then next, a knife, which I thought might be the original zealots’ weapon, came flying out of the crowd and dropped into some bushes behind one of the large black litter bins beside my park seat.

I could not follow the trajectory with my mobile phone camera but as it struck a small tree then landed at the base of the tree-trunk, I had it in clear sight. I clambered over the back of the seat I had been standing on then surreptitiously scrapped some leaves over the blood-stained, gleaming blade with my foot. I looked around as casually as I could then stepped across the bushy ground towards the main road and took station by a bus-stop where I had a good view of the buried knife’s location.

Eventually the police restored order and one of them spotted me casually looking at the scene from my bus-stop. It was obvious that the police were now seeking witnesses and I told myself, -

‘Georgie, now’s your time to shine.’

I remained standing by the bus-stop and watched a sergeant organising his men to find witnesses. As the police officers broke up one of the original policewomen who had been monitoring the area noticed me just standing and watching. She recognised me and immediately stepped around the railed shrubbery and approached me as I continued watching her.

“You were there! I saw you! You must have seen something: you can’t deny it.”

“I haven’t denied it. I have seen something; quite a bit in fact.”

“Don’t go away, we’ll need you as a witness.”

“Do I look as though I’m going away?” I countered.

She looked at me and frowned.

“Have you got something material to add?”

“Very much so, if you’ll give me the chance.”

As I spoke, I made to return towards the seat I had been standing on but she stopped me.

“You can’t go back there, it’s a crime scene.”

“I know that.” I answered softly, “but I know where that bastard’s knife landed. When it was thrown out of the crowd, it went past my shoulder and I watched it land.”

Her expression immediately changed and she motioned to me to follow her. When we reached the police cordon she introduced me to the inspector who had now organised the search. The young policewoman wasted no time in preliminaries.

“This woman claims to know where the weapon is.” She advised the inspector as she turned to me. “Show us please.”

I stepped towards the seat I had previously been standing on then pointed to where I had climbed over the back of the seat and jumped down off the waist-high railings.

“Those two deep footprints are where I landed when I jumped off the back of the seat and landed in the soil. When the knife went past my shoulder if bounced off the trunk of that small tree and landed under that decorative shrub. I did not disturb the knife but I kicked some loose leaves over the knife to cover it so nobody could immediately find it and hide it. You should find the knife under those leaves.”

By the time I had finished explaining, one of the younger officers had already clambered over the railings and, at the inspectors instruction, started carefully picking the loose leaves away with a long-handled litter claw.
Within seconds the gleaming blade was bared to view and cameras caught the images before the knife was carefully gathered. I noted that they also took photos of my footprints and my shoes.

“We’ll need your shoes I’m afraid miss.”
“Oh for god’s sake!” I protested. “Are you for real?”

“F’raid’ so miss. You’re a material witness. You can sit in the police van until we can get you some suitable footwear.”

“You’ll need more than that. I suppose you’ll need my camera as well.”

“What!” The inspector gasped.

“I Got a video of the whole attack from where I was standing on the seat. There might even be an image of the knife being thrown out of the crowd though I have not had a chance to look at the video yet. I didn’t notice it while I was videoing but with your forensic stuff, it might well show up on my video.”

His eyes widened with appreciation and he immediately organised for me and the policewoman who had been monitoring speaker’s corner, to be taken down to the police forensic laboratories.

As I picked my bare footed way painfully towards the police car the policewoman and I exchanged grins.

“Is this how you treat all your witnesses?” I asked

“There’ll be tea and cake for afters,” she riposted with a smile.

“Crikey! No expense spared,” I grinned. “Will I have to buy new shoes?”

She smiled and wagged her head then went straight into the interview room after explaining it was to be videoed. Then she turned to me again.

“I Watched you stepping back from the group as their arguments got more heated and especially before the trouble broke out. Any particular reason why?”

“Past experiences.” I replied. “Speaker’s corner is not what it was. You can’t seem to have a good ol’e, stand up, knock about argument since the religious stuff stared getting worse. Now it’s all knives and watch-your-back!’ I don’t get too involved. I don’t suppose I’ll be going there much longer.”

“It’s a pity to hear somebody saying that” she replied as we collected the coffee and sticky buns.

I shrugged and debated ‘coming out’ to her for it was obvious she was reading me as a woman. As I contemplated the idea, I concluded that they might well find out if they ran a national insurance check and discovered my details were not complete. According to the lawyers, all transgender transition details were supposed to be confidential, but I did not believe that. As I sucked on the bun I chanced my arm.

“There is another reason I don’t mix it much.”

Her eyes widened as I knew they would.

“Oh! D’ you want to tell.”

“It’s not a biggie; just that I’m post-op trans.”

“And that matters d’ you think?” She pressed.

I stared somewhat askance at her.

“You saw what happened on that March last Saturday, it was all over the news;

-TERFs attacking, trans,
-‘defenders’ attacking TERFs.
-ethnics attacking TERFs,
-ethnics attacking gays,
-defenders attacking ethnics,
-and just about everybody attacking your lot- the police.

It was pandemonium.”

“Where you there?”

“Not bloody likely, I’ve seen and felt enough to stay well out of it.”

“Are you a student in London?”

“Yeah, I’ll give you all the guff during the interview.”

With this, we both stood up and she led me to an interview room where an inspector was just finishing an interview with one of the assailants.

“This lady’s got some pretty useful stuff boss,” She declared after the assailant had left, then she added.

“She’s the one I saw standing on the seat by the shrubbery.”

“Oh, come in. I’m told you’ve got some video.”

I glanced at the policewoman.

“New travels fast eh.”

“Good news does. Have you got your phone?”

I took it out and advised both officers.

“I’ve already downloaded it to my ‘puter but nobody else has seen it yet, The ’puter’s locked.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” the inspector replied. “Can you please keep it that way. It’ll protect your identity as well.”

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