Easy As Falling Off A Bike pt 891.

Wuthering Dormice
(aka Bike)
Part 891
by Angharad

Copyright © 2010 Angharad
All Rights Reserved.
  
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Professor Herbert led the way to his car, a Mercedes, a big one. Abi and her partner–a woman named Dilly, got in the back seats and I was left to ride up front.

“Wouldn’t it be easier if I followed you in my car?” I asked the professor.

“No, parking’s tight and I’ll bring you back here for yours later. I hope Italian is alright?”

“Fine with me.”

“So, what’s it like coming back over old ground?” he asked me.

“It feels familiar but different.”

“Is that good or bad?”

“Just different–not sure if either if those words describe it.”

“Is it the new status, that makes the difference?”

“What you mean coming as a woman rather than an adolescent male?”

He nodded.

“It obviously makes a difference–but I suppose it wasn’t so much that as knowing people who knew me before–what would they say?”

“I would hope, only that you are a very beautiful young woman, with a pivotal position in the protection of mammal species in the UK and possibly Europe as the survey widens its scope. That gives you a very important position.”

“Do you not think I’m up to it?”

“I think you were made for it. However, the queen is only as safe as she makes herself–usurpers will try their hand. Rumours are that Southampton were thinking of challenging–didn’t they have some scandal down there recently?”

“Yes–an ex Sussex graduate too.”

“Really?”

“Yes, Perryman.”

“Wasn’t there some query while he was here–paedophiles and photographs of young children–he was cleared, wasn’t he?”

“Not this time–so he topped himself.”

“Oh–I’ve been in Canada–watching beavers...” this brought roars of laughter from the back seat. “Not that sort of beaver–you dirty little girls.”

“Come off it, Esmond, we know the sort of beaver you’d prefer to watch and it doesn’t build lodges.” Abi laughed as she taunted the professor.

“Travel lodges,” maybe said Dilly, quoting a chain of moderately priced hotels. They both laughed uproariously again. “Watch out, Cathy, he’s looking for his next prey item.”

“This lady is happily married,” protested Esmond Herbert.

“Huh, that won’t stop you,” giggled Abi. I was beginning to feel very uncomfortable and I also wondered if my laptop would be safe in my car’s boot–I hoped so. I’d put it in there very hurriedly, I think I remembered to lock it.

Esmond Herbert was quite a tall man, but very slim. I suspect Simon would make two of him, and I’m sure he wouldn’t want to make an enemy of Si.

“So tell me about your husband,” he continued.

“He’s six feet tall, weighs about fourteen stone, used to play rugby for his school and UCL. He works for a bank.”

“I thought he owned it?” quipped Abi.

“His family do–which means Simon’s important, but his dad, Henry, is the chairman and main shareholder.”

“Is he good looking?” asked Dilly wanting to wind up Esmond Herbert, “I mean, as good looking as Ezzie, here?”

“I think so, but then I love him–so I’m not the best person to ask.”

“Is he a good screw?” asked Dilly.

“I’m not sure that’s an appropriate question to ask or for me to answer.” I blushed and felt indignant.

“Oh c’mon, we’re all big girls–except Ezzie of course–or do you want to talk about stupid dormice all night?”

“I’m happy to talk about dormice all night if necessary, but I’d rather talk about my children.”

“Your children? I thought you’d had the chop–you know down below?” Dilly probed and was beginning to really annoy me–I suspected she’d been drinking.

“I’m adopting three girls, and fostering another three–two boys and teenage girl.”

“Bloody hell–Ma Barnardo? Isn’t that a trifle excessive–or just a compensatory mechanism?”

“Shurrup, Dil,” hissed Abi.

“Nah, I wanna know–she’s a woman isn’t she, like you an’ me–‘cept we can ‘have kids and she can’t–not much of a woman, really is she?”

I felt a combination of feelings rising in me–Dilly was absolutely right, I wasn’t as much of a woman in some respects, but in the back of my head I kept saying to myself–‘but I’ve travelled long and hard to get where I am, and no self-centred, narrow minded feminist was going to stop me now’.

“I’d have thought that someone who lives in a glass house shouldn’t throw stones,” I said through a throat which was choking with fury.

“Ooh, take the moral high ground–why don’t you?” Dilly was turning nasty.

“I’ve worked and socialised with all sorts of people–all religions and ethnic types, all types of sex and orientation–and you’re the first woman who’s had a problem with me. Interesting isn’t it? Maybe it says more about you than it does me?”

“Ha ha–bloody little tranny–that’s all you are–giving yourself airs and graces–you’re still a bloody tranny.”

“Stop it,” urged Abi, sounding very annoyed with her partner.

“You know, Professor Herbert, I had lots of aggro when I was here–people thought I was an effeminate man, but very little in Portsmouth. I come here again, as a woman, and I get aggro again. I don’t think I’ll be back somehow.”

“Don’t listen to one jealous lesbian–why don’t you tell her, Dilly–you can’t have children either, can you?”

An imprecation was muttered from the back seat, and I noticed Abi was sulking and refusing to speak with her partner.

“Well here we are, the Travatore.”

“You know, Professor Herbert, I’ve completely lost my appetite–it’s been nice meeting you again, but I think I’ll get off home.” I went to hail a taxi.

“Don’t let one sad woman put you off Sussex, Lady Cameron, a thousand of us loved you tonight–I think that speaks for itself. Now come and eat, and Dilly, behave yourself or I’ll have a second look at your research funding.”

“Big bully,” was muttered from the back seat.

“Come and have dinner–their pasta is exquisite, and their sauces divine–look, if you don’t agree, I’ll call you a cab to go straight to the university. How’s that?”

My tummy rumbled, it was nine o’clock and I was quite hungry–Dilly really worried me, but Abi was nodding at the professor’s exhortations..

“Okay, I’ll stay,” I gave Dilly a daggers stare and she looked away. I wasn’t comfortable, but then neither was she and I was sober enough to think about what I said–she was definitely not.

Despite the pasta being brilliant or whatever, I fancied a risotto, and they did one, so that’s what I ordered after a minestrone soup. It was a mistake–the soup, I mean. It was like a vegetable stew and after eating that, even without bread, my skirt was feeling a bit tight round the waist.

I played with the risotto, which was very good–but I didn’t have the room to store it, so to speak. I did have a latte coffee to help me stay awake on the drive home.

Dilly sulked most of the evening, only speaking when she was asked a direct question–I didn’t ask her any, and if I had I doubted she could have answered me. She seemed full of prejudices, without knowing me–perhaps they were political, like a diatribe twenty or so years ago The Transsexual Empire. I don’t believe in the exploitation of women, men or children nor of sexual or any other minority–I want to live and let live. I also accept some find me difficult to accept for whatever reason–but that’s their problem not mine.

I got back into my car at eleven that night–with an hour or ninety minute’s drive home. I was tired and saddened–minority groups need each other to be supportive, to change the way society thinks. I was still hurt by the barbs Dilly had thrown at me and no amount of shrugging would stem the wound–the poison had got in.

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