I went on my way, puzzled at who the child was and why he or she was apparently following me. Or was I being followed? Maybe it was just a coincidence or I was becoming paranoid...

Get A Life!

By Susan Brown

Chapter 7

Previously …

As I put on my helmet, a movement caught the corner of my eye. I was sure that it was that child that I saw before. He or she, I still wasn’t sure, was cycling off down the lane on what looked like an old chopper bike.

I don’t believe in coincidences. Was I being followed? I needed to know, so I got on my scooter, started her up and pushed her off her stand. By now, the child had disappeared around a bend and I hastened to follow.

I set off determinately at a cracking twenty miles per hour in hot pursuit of this possible, all be it young, stalker. Rounding the bend, I fully expected to have the child on a chopper bike in full view.

The lane although rising steeply away from the coast, was almost arrow straight.

I stopped.

Was I having hallucinations?

Had my encounter with the dishy Alistair made me take leave of my senses?

The strange child on the bike had vanished!

Curiouser and curiouser.

And now the story continues…

I went up and down the lane and couldn’t see where the child could have gone, and then on the third sweep, I saw a narrow path leading off to the left. I had missed it before due to the fact that some hedges were nearly covering it.

I breathed a sigh of relief. At least it wasn’t a supernatural experience that I had just, erm, experienced.

I went on my way, puzzled at who the child was and why he or she was apparently following me. Or was I being followed? Maybe it was just a coincidence or I was becoming paranoid.

Shrugging my shoulders, I continued on my way.

As I rode along, I wondered once again who the child was. Maybe someone who was just nosy. Lets face it, a girl on a pink scooter wearing a pink helmet, must attract a certain amount of attention. The way this place worked, there probably wouldn’t be many people who didn’t know about me now.

~*~

As promised, I met Sally back at the café; and as I pulled up, I looked around for The Shadow Child but all was clear. I wondered if it was my overactive imagination playing tricks with me.

In the café, I had some sort of meat pie, as I was peckish. I was offered a haggis, but somehow, I didn’t fancy eating something that involved a sheep’s stomach, heart, liver and lungs.

Sally, who was on a see food diet; had sausages and chips. We both had the obligatory cups of tea.

I mentioned where I went and the fact that I saw the strange child around every corner, an exaggeration, but it made me wonder…

Sally shrugged.

‘It could be any one of the kids around here. There isn’t much to do and they tend to hang around on street corners. We don’t have much crime on Muckle and it’s a bit surprising we don’t have more trouble considering as there isn’t much to do on the island. Mind you hen, it helps that our policeman, Doughall is six foot seven in his socks and is fierce when roused.’

‘Hands on is he?’

‘You could say that; fists, feet and the occasional Glasgow kiss when the boys have a wee bit too much of the whisky.’

‘Glasgow kiss?’ I asked.

‘Head butt, usually onto the nose.’

‘Nasty,’

‘Very, but he doesn’t have to resort to that normally, his sheer presence is normally enough to quell even the most rowdy drunks.’

‘Doesn’t he just arrest them and let the due process of law sort things out?’

‘He doesn’t like the paperwork.’

‘Oh,’ I replied not knowing if that was a good thing or bad.

We talked of other inconsequential things and then Sally paid for our drinks etc, and we left the café. After the lunchtime rush of three couples, a fisherman and a dog named Spot, we were the last ones to leave and Molly shut up shop, as she wanted to do some shopping. I nearly said that she wouldn’t get much custom if she closed up in the middle of the day, but I held my tongue as I didn’t want to give her too many revolutionary ideas all at once. I could see that this was going to be a long haul.

Maybe I could suggest getting a youngster in doing work experience to hold the fort or even do the shopping while Molly kept the café open and earned some more money?

‘Right Chloe, lets go and see Auntie Aileen, Angus has already taken your case and other bits and pieces to her place. Leave your scooter here, it’ll be safe enough.’

‘So, she’s OK with me staying for a bit?’

‘Who, Auntie? I think so.’ She replied somewhat mysteriously.

We went up the hill away from the sea front and harbor. The town which was little as towns go, was such a picturesque place, it reminded me in some ways of that quaint place in Devon what was it called…oh yes, Penmarris.

All the buildings were brightly and and colourfully painted and looked more cheerful than down on the sea front where, I assumed, the exposure to the ravages of the coastal weather meant that painting and decorating would be required more often than usual.

Sally’s aunt (who was evidently her great aunt) lived half way up the hill. It was a terraced cottage, like many of the dwellings in them thar parts. The door was pink, a bit over the top. I thought, especially as the windows were painted sky blue. Well the windowsills and woodwork anyway were blue; as it would be silly to paint the actual windows, cos you wouldn’t see out of them if they were painted…I digress. Anyway it was a cheerful looking place and well looked after compared to the Landlady From Hell’s residence.

Sally knocked loudly on the knocker; I swear that you could here the noise in Edinburgh, and a few seconds later; I could hear the clump of sensible shoes coming down stairs.

The door opened and an ancient lady peered out at us.

‘Yes?’ she quavered.

‘Auntie, its me, Sally.’

‘Eh?’ she said, cupping her ear.

‘SALLY,’

‘Sally who?’

Your great niece, Sally, I SAY, YOUR NIECE SALLY!’

‘She’s a bit deaf,’ murmured Sally.

‘Your not kidding,’ I replied.

‘Hang on,’ said Sally and she leant forward and with her fingers searched behind her aunts’ ear. To be honest I don’t think that Aileen noticed.

‘CAN YOU HEAR ME NOW,’ said Sally.

‘You don’t have to shout, I’m not deaf.’

Well that was a whopper, if ever I heard one, but I let it go.

‘Is that you Sally?’

‘Yes Auntie,’ sighed Sally, ‘this is Chloe, we spoke earlier, do you remember?’

I went forward a bit so that she could see me more clearly.

Squinting, she looked me up and down.

‘Are you Margaret’s girl?’

‘No, my mother is called Helen,’

‘Why have yer got black eyes?’

I put my hand up to my face; obviously Max Factor wasn’t doing the job of hiding my bruises as well as I thought. Maybe she wasn’t as poorly sighted as I thought. I wondered why Sally hadn’t mentioned it, or anyone else come to think of it. Maybe people were just being polite?

‘Erm, I had a bit of a run in with a thug.’

‘Mmm,’ she said thoughtfully, ‘Do ye want me to send Horace over te give him a kicking?’

‘Auntie, Horace died twenty years ago.’

‘That was her son.’ she whispered aside to me.

‘Did he?’ said Aileen.

‘Yes dear, don’t you remember?’

‘Of course I do,’ she replied tetchily, ‘got killed in the war,’

‘No, that was Uncle Stuart, your husband. Horace got killed in the storm of ’93 in the fishing boat?

‘Oh yes, that’s right. Anyway, don’t stand there mythering, come away in.’

Aileen led the way as we went up some stairs and into a quaint rather old-fashioned kitchen that was probably the last thing in sophistication in 1950.

Soon we were drinking the inevitable tea out of the china teacups. The kitchen was much like the rest of the house, time-warped back to the 50’s, but it wasn’t out of place or looked strange, it suited Aileen and I could see why she didn’t want to change anything. The place reflected her age and probably the time of her life that she felt most comfortable with.

I shook my head; all this was all a bit profound for a simple girl like me!

I came back to reality, realising that Sally and Aileen were discussing me.

‘So is it alright for Chloe to stay here until her cottage is sorted out?’

Aileen peered at me?

‘Are ye clean?’ she asked.

‘Pardon me?’

‘Are ye deaf lass, are ye clean? Do ye keep yer room tidy and do ye do own washing up?’

‘Erm, yes,’ I replied, wondering where all this was going. Did she want to inspect my fingernails and the back of my neck for signs of grubbiness?

‘Cleanliness is next to Godliness,’ she said rather grandly.

She would get out the scriptures next and ask me to join with her in prayer. I wondered if this was all a big mistake. Maybe I would be better off sleeping in a hedgerow or something…

‘Now, now Auntie, don’t start to get all preachy on us.’

She turned to me and whispered, ‘she was last in church in 1998 and that was so that she could get out of the rain.’

‘What’s that you’re saying about rain?’

‘Just that it looks like rain Auntie.’

Glancing outside, I could see wall-to-wall blue sky and sunshine.

‘Aye, I can feel it in me bones, it’ll rain by sundown, mark my words,’ said Aileen, sagely.

‘Right Chloe, I’ll leave you to get settled in. Shall we meet tomorrow in your office, that is, if that lazy, good for nothing Hamish has got his finger out and actually cleared it out?’

‘OK,’

‘See you later Auntie.’

‘Why?’

‘Why what?’

‘Will ye see me later?’

‘Oh never mind, its just a figure of speech?’

‘Ye could loose a few pounds, but ye figure looks all right te me hen.’

‘I think we need to get your hearing aid battery changed.’

‘Eh?’

Sally sighed and then just waived goodbye, leaving me with Aileen.

I won’t go into the conversation that I had with Aileen as it gives me a headache just thinking about it. Somehow, with shouting and primitive sign language I managed to get shown my room and settled in. I was given a key and was told rather loudly that tea would be on the table at five sharp and the doors would be locked and bolted at ten.

It may sound as if (call me) Auntie was a bit of a battle-axe in the Landlady From Hell category, but she was rather sweet and dotty really and I could tell meant me know harm and indeed, I think that she liked the idea of me staying with her.

I left her dozing in the sitting room and decided to get myself organised and made my way upstairs.

My room was pleasant and airy and wallpapered in a flowered pattern. The window had a nice view of the beach and harbour, which was nice. The bed was single but incredibly comfortable when I bounced up and down on it. No duvet on the bed, but crisp white sheets, blue blankets and a sky blue quilt. There was a chest of drawers, a wardrobe and a dressing table all, I think, in mahogany.

As promised, Angus had dropped off my things and I spent a few moments unpacking my case and putting my thongs, I mean things, away.

I didn’t have a lot of clothes, not nearly enough for my needs and I knew that at some stage I would have to go on the mainland and do a shop or two, but for now, I would make do with what I got.

First things first, I went down the hallway to the bathroom. No luxury of an ensuite bathroom at Auntie’s I would have to share with her. I just hoped that she didn’t need the facilities when I did, as there was only the one toilet.

The bath was quite small and narrow, but as I was small and narrow too, it wasn’t too bad and I was lucky that the water was nice and hot.

I sank beneath the waves of my bubble bath and sighed, as this was the first time that I had had a chance to relax since arriving in a bedraggled state onto the island.

I was in there for quite a while and contemplated on the things that had happened to me. All in all, I thought that things weren’t too bad and could only get better. All right, I had met some resistance and a few downright nasty types, but I wasn’t going to let that spoil things for me.

I glanced down at my body and smiled, my breasts although not large, were pert and nice looking. I didn’t think that I would ever like large breasts and genetics meant that unless I went under the knife, Pinkie and Perky would never be much bigger than they were at the moment.

I had a thought, I couldn't call Pinkie the breast Pinkie any more, because that was the name of my scooter. Mind you it was very juvenile thing to name your breasts, but who said that i would ever truly grow up?

I continued my anatomical self examination type thingie.

Further down my body, the unwanted appendage was still there. I would have loved for the willy fairy to take it away, like the tooth fairy took my toofypegs when I was little, but I wouldn’t hold my breath on that eventuality.

One day, I would get the courage to make my outie into an innie or preferably get someone else to do it, as I wasn’t in to DIY. For some reason, my mind went back to a long running children’s program called Blue Peter, where the enthusiastic and bouncy presenters used to make things out of sticky- back plastic and loo rolls.

‘Now children, what we are going to do is just snip this and that off, turn this inside out, trace around this bit insert that bit; careful put it together using this glue and sticky-back plastic and there you are, a brand new vagina and you can’t even see the joins!’

I giggled, if only…

After padding back to my room in my robe, I blow dried and straightened my hair and than took a moment to decide what to wear.

I did have jeans and casual tops, but being a girly girl, I preferred skirts, pretty blouses and, of course dresses. I didn’t have much choice until I went shopping but I did have a nice peasant style top and black skirt which went down to mid-calf and that would do for now.

In panties and bra, I decided to put some makeup on before getting dressed.

My face still looked a bit Panda like from the black eyes and I spent some time with concealer and makeup to hide the damage. After carefully applying eye shadow and mascara, I think I did a decent job of hiding said damage. I wasn’t one for slapping on the makeup using a trowel, but needs must, as they say. I looked forward to when my bruises would fade and I looked more like a normal human being. I finished, by applying some pink, lip-gloss.

Satisfied with my look, I swiftly dressed and then brushed out my hair until it shone. Then I spritzed myself in all my delicate places and I was as ready as I could be.

After a final look at myself in the long mirror on the back of the door and deciding that I looked as good as I could, I made my way downstairs from where I could smell freshly baked cakey smells.

I passed inspection from Auntie who just smiled and said that, ‘I was a pretty wee thing,’ before she returned to her baking which, I must admit, smelt mouth watering.

Needless to say, I stayed in for tea, which comprised of dainty cakes and tiny crustless sandwiches washed down by the inevitable cup of tea or two. I nearly asked for coffee, but felt that it may be to revolutionary for Auntie.

After helping with the washing up, I went to my room, picked up my shoulder bag and ventured out into the early evening sunshine. I also took my red Pashmina; as it would probably get a lot cooler when the sun went down.

First things first, I went to get my scooter. I would take her back to Auntie’s and leave her in the shed around the back, as I had been told that it was empty apart from a few large hairy spiders. I wasn’t sure about the spiders, but at least Pinkie would be dry if, or rather when the heavens opened out and it poured down with rain.

Pinkie was waiting patiently where I had left her. I wheeled her up the hill to Aunties house as, if I rode her, I would have wild hair issues. I could cope with a lot but not that. I saw a few strange looks from the natives, but no comments except from a young boy who, while picking his nose and eating its contents, pointed at me and asked his mummy what that strange lady was doing. I didn’t hang about to hear her reply.

Soon I was at Aunties place and went around the back where the shed was. With some trepidation, I opened the door, wheeled Pinkie in and put her on her stand. I didn’t hang about as it was dark and dusty in there and I did not want to be attacked by big hairy things. I thought that I heard scurrying sounds, but that may have been my overactive imagination.

Soon, I was walking back down the hill. Over in the distance I could see a few fine weather clouds, fluffy white ones that just emphasised the fine weather we were having. I wondered why I had bothered with the pashmina, it was still rather hot and the sun wasn’t due to set for another few hours.

I reached the sea front and nodded to a few people walking dogs, children and in one case a cat. Strange, but who was I calling people strange when I could be considered one of the strangest people on Muckle.

I gave myself a mental slap around the face with a wet kipper. That talk was defeatist. I was a girl, a nice girl, a good girl. I may have started out life differently, physically anyway, but now my outside matched my inside apart from a little appendage, which would be removed sooner or later.

I walked along the prom, taking in the sites and scenery and imagining once again this lovely place heaving with happy holidaymakers in garish, ill fitting clothes, a bit like San Tropez.

At some point, I would start taking some photos of the islands best features. I doubted very much if the budget would run to a professional photographer and I was quite good at point and click type pickies.

In the harbor were several fishing boats. I, like most people, knew that being a fisherperson was a hard life with limited rewards, especially with the fishing quotas being so daft and restricted. What was the point of throwing non-quota fish overboard when they were dead anyway?

I shook my head and continued on; then I had another light bulb moment. Maybe the boats could be used for sightseeing? True the boats would have to be tarted up a bit and maybe a gallon or two of air freshener wouldn’t go amiss, but I bet that the idea could be a money earner.

I filed the idea away and hoped that there wouldn’t be too much in the way of red tape to make it work. The daft, over restrictive and downright loopy health and safety rules would be the death of me one day.

There were a few more clouds in the sky now, but they were high and there was little sign of the weather changing. I heard the sound of a throaty car engine behind me and turned to look. It was The Porsche and hunky Alistair Craig was driving, his blond hair waving gently in the wind, his muscly arm was resting nonchalantly on the open window of the open top car.

He saw me and waved. I finger waved him back, sighing as I did so and then after a sudden bang on my head I found myself on my back. I had collided with a lamppost, head first and I could see tiny twinkling stars and a few assorted flying fairies…

I shook my head to clear it.

From my prone position, I could see the Porsche continuing down the road, Alistair was obviously impervious to my plight, otherwise he would have come to the rescue of this damsel in distress—well I hoped so, anyway. I looked around and quickly got back up on my feet, feeling like a complete idiot. I was lucky that the road was empty and my collision had not been witnessed by anyone.

I rubbed the bump on my forehead and hoped that my fringe would cover the inevitable bruise.

I brushed myself down and then glanced across the road. That child was there, looking at me and grinning.

I was going to have it out with the kid; enough was enough. The last thing I needed at that moment was a stalker, and one that laughed at me, at that!

I picked up my shoulder bag, laying in the gutter and then looked left and right, as I had been taught at school. I was about to walk across the road …but stopped in my tracks.

The kid had gone, vanished into thin air, disappeared. In short, she or he had done it again!

I walked across the road, I was going to find out why the child had gone, if it was the last thing I would do.

I noticed a passage that I hadn’t seen before, down the side of one of the cottages and immediately went down it. Of course the kid wasn’t to be seen and unless I knocked on everyone’s door, I would never know which one the brat had disappeared into.

Turning back, I continued my walk, rubbing the bump on my head, once again, wondering if Alistair had seen my stupid antics involving the lamppost in his rear view mirror. No if he had seen it, he would have come to my rescue like the gentleman that he was.

Mind you, I had no idea if he was a gentleman, he might be a rogue for all I knew, but I had this impression that he was a nice man and he would have folded me in his arms and helped to make me feel better.

I sighed, I had read too many romantic novels and none of them included a handsome man coming to help or rescue someone like me, a girly transsexual. Would I ever find love?

‘Stop it Chloe,’ I said to myself and then looked down. A Heinz 57 type dog was staring at me.

‘What?’ I asked the dog.

The dog just looked at me, then gave a sniff, cocked his leg up against a wall, did his stuff and then sauntered off.

Was it me or something? Even the local neighbourhood dogs seemed to lack any interest in me. I had a bubbly personality and could even balance a spoon on my nose, essential for breaking the ice at parties, well it was when I was nine, anyway.

I sighed, these up and down moods would be the death of me.

I continued my walk and found myself around the headland. The road stopped abruptly and turned into a grassy path, leading gently up the hill, following the coast. Looking up, I could see that it was getting cloudier, but there was no hint of rain, so I walked along the path and it eventually led to the top of a hill, where I could see much of the coastline. It was a nice spot, so I sat down on the short grass and chilled out a bit.

The gentle breeze was nice, as was the peacefulness. All I could hear was the waves down below, breaking on the shore and the ever-present birds wheeling overhead. My head ached a bit still and I lay back on the grass and closed my eyes for a moment.

The sound of hooves woke me up with a start.

I sat up and from the left came a woman on a horse. It was a magnificent creature, the horse, not the woman, although I was sure that she was very nice…anyway, she, or rather they, changed direction and came up to me. The horse was breathing rather heavily, but seemed happy enough. The woman had a riding hat on, jodhpurs and all the usual riding gear.

‘Hi there.’

‘Hi,’ I replied, as the first drops of rain pattered down.

‘You’re Chloe, aren’t you?’

‘Yes, do I know you?’

She jumped down off the horse, who just stood there eating grass and then took her helmet off; the woman not the horse. I wondered fleetingly if I was a trifle concussed.

‘Probably not, but you are our famous tourist guru who will help to turn this backwater into something special.’

‘I hope so,’

‘Oh you will, you have already stirred things up. We need new blood here, people who can get things done and stop young islanders leaving for the mainland. I’m Isabel, by the way, head teacher at the one and only primary school. I’ll be dragging you in to help fund raising and stuff like that and you will be a governor of the school. You can also cook the school dinners if you like.’

‘Erm…’

She laughed.

‘Your face…’

She was about my age and had lovely long hair done up in a ponytail and a face to die for. I was immediately jealous, and then chastised myself for being so shallow.

‘I hope that I can help, with the tourist side anyway. I haven’t had much experience with children,’

‘You will,’ she said somewhat ominously and positively. She then looked up.

‘Its going to rain hard soon; want a lift to Aileen’s?’

‘You know her?’

‘Yes, everyone knows Auntie Aileen. So do you want a lift?’

‘On that?’ I said looking at what to me was a huge horse.

‘That is Sugar Plum; she’s a sweetie really and only eats people for breakfast.’

‘Ha-ha,’ I said doubtfully. I wasn’t a horsy person, but I felt sure that horses weren’t meat eaters.

It started to rain more persistently.

‘So do you want a lift?’

I wasn’t sure if riding on the back of three tons of horse would be a good idea, but, ‘she who dares wins,’ I thought, so what the hell.

Isabel put her helmet on, jumped up onto the horse energetically and then helped me up. I was sitting in front of her and astride a horse for the first time in my life. I was somewhat concerned about my lack of helmet or the provision of a seat belt, but I hung on grimly as Isabel decided to race off down the path.

I was told later that it was just a gentle trot, but to me it seemed like a hundred miles an hour. It actually stopped raining then and the sun peeped out of the clouds.

‘Lets do a detour,’ shouted Isabel in my ear.

‘What?’

‘Hang on tight!’

The horse suddenly went left down a narrower path and slowed down a bit, for which I was eternally grateful.

We went through some woodland and then out onto a beach. It was quite a long beach and the tide had just gone out, leaving the sand firm and wet. Sugar Plum seemed to know where she was going and that was more than I did.

I wasn’t sure if it was Isabel driving or if the horse was in charge as we went across the sand increasing our pace as we did so.

We headed straight for the sea and I wondered if she was ever going to stop her headlong dash to destruction.

I could hear Isabel laughing and I wondered if, like the horse, she was wee bit mad.

We arrived at the sea and I shut my eyes, wondering how long I could hold my breath as we went under the waves. We swayed violently to the left and I could hear the thudding of hooves and splashing of water. I opened an eye and I could see that we were racing along the shoreline as if we were in a erm, race of some sort. The wind whipped at my hair and my skirt was up around my waist showing my knickers to any passing seagull or pervert that happened to be training his or maybe even her binoculars at us.

The spray being created did nothing for my clothes and I daren’t even think what my hair looked like.

We carried on for quite awhile along the beach and I started to relax and then enjoy myself. It was very invigorating rushing along like that, with the waves crashing and the hooves splashing in the water.

We passed a few beachcombers and dog walkers and they all waved as we flew past. A few brave dogs tried to keep up with us, but Sugar Plum was too fast and we soon left them behind.

Eventually, we reached the end of the beach and then slowed to a halt.

We were all a bit breathless but I felt all of a tingle from my impromptu ride along that wonderful sandy beach.

‘That was great,’ said Isabel, ‘are you okay?’

‘Yes, fine; thanks for that.’

‘You’re welcome. Now lets get you back to Auntie Aileen’s.’

We went back up the beach, along a lane and then we were back in town. A few moments later, we arrived at Auntie Aileen’s house.

With a strong arm, Isabel helped me down off the horse. I nearly collapsed as my legs felt week for some reason, but I soon recovered my composure and thanked her once again.

‘No problem, I’ll see you tomorrow. If you have time, pop up to the school and I’ll show you around.’

‘I will. Bye then.’

Sugar Plum looked at me and I swear that she winked!

Isabel gave me a wave and then she was off, Sugar Plums hooves clip clopping down the road.

I went up the steps a bit wobbly and was just about to get my key out when something tugged at my skirt.

I turned around and looked down.

‘Can I talk with you?’

It was the elusive child.

---

 
To Be Continued...

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