I looked at the child, more surprised than anything else.
‘Erm yes; okay. Do you want to come in?’
‘No, I want to speak to you where no one else can hear.’

Get A Life!

By Susan Brown

Chapter 8

Previously …

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.

And now the story continues…

I looked at the child, more surprised than anything else.

‘Erm yes; okay. Do you want to come in?’

‘No, I want to speak to you where no one else can hear.’

‘But Auntie is as deaf as a post.’

‘I don’t think that she’s as deaf as she makes out.’

‘All right, how about down on the beach, we can find a quiet spot, I’m sure.’

‘I’ll meet you down past the last beach hut.’

The child didn’t say anything more but just nodded and turned away, in seconds she had disappeared down an alley. Talk about a disappearing act!

I followed, just using the main road. The last thing I wanted was to get lost in the alleys and back passageways of that quirky place.

I thought about her while I walked along the cobbles. I was more puzzled than anything else. She had looked no more than eleven or twelve. Her hair was tucked under a red bobble hat and she was wearing an anorak and jeans. Her accent had been a sort of soft Scottish one and not anything like as broad as some of the people that I had spoken to here. She was well spoken and then I realised, I had called her she in my mind. I assumed by her face and manner that she was a girl. If that was so, why was she wearing what looked suspiciously like boys’ clothes? Talk about mixed signals!

Soon I was on the sea front and I made my way to the end hut, as requested. There weren’t any people about and the clouds had come over again. In seconds, it started to poor down with rain and I was getting wet through.

‘Where is she?’ I thought.

‘Hello,’

I jumped and there she was behind me. How did she do that?

It was now raining cats, dogs, mice and elephants and she motioned to me, then grabbed my sleeve and went over to the nearest hut. Dragging me in, I found myself in a small hut with basic amenities like a calor gas stove, sink, a small sofa-bed and such like.

She handed me a towel and I dried myself off while she did the same with another one.

Outside I could hear the sound of rain splattering on the roof. What happened to the tropical type weather, maybe this was a tropical storm?

Anyway, I had no more time to consider the weather as she spoke.

‘You are Chloe McKerrell?’

‘Yes.’

‘You are pretty.’

‘Am I?’

‘Yes.’

‘Thanks.’

‘I want to be pretty.’

‘You are.’

‘I know, but my da thinks that I shouldn’t be pretty.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I was born a boy,’

‘So this is what its all about,’ I thought.

‘How can I help?’

‘Can you talk to him?’

‘Why me?’

‘Because you were born a boy too.’

‘Who told you?’

‘Everyone knows.’

‘So, no secrets here.’

‘How long have you known that you are a girl?’

‘For ever.’

‘What does your mother think?’

‘She’s dead.’

‘Sorry.’

‘I can’t remember her.’

‘Oh,’

‘Will you do it then?’

‘What?’

‘Speak to Da?’

‘Da?’

‘My Dad.’

‘Does he know how you feel?’

‘About what?’

‘Wanting to be a girl?’

‘But I am a girl’

‘OK, fair enough, you are a girl, but have you told your dad about it?’

‘I did when I was a wee one, but he told me not to be silly as I was a boy and always would be. Then I asked again when you arrived on the island, but he said that I were daft and I should forget aboot it.’

‘Is your dad a nice man?’

I didn’t want him to hit me, so the question was relevant.

‘Aye, but he is a bit thick sometimes. How can he not see that I am a girl?’

‘Well, at your age, you could be mistaken for either. Androgynous they call it.’

‘Is that a sickness?’

‘No., it means that you could be taken for either a girl or a boy. When I saw you earlier, the way you are dressed you could be taken for boy or a girl.’

‘Oh; so will you talk to Da?’

‘What do you want me to say?’

‘That I am a girl and I want to see the doctors, so that I can have pills and injections and then an operation to put me right.

‘But I don’t know you. For all I know, you could be pretending.’

‘I’m not pretending, why would I do that? Anyway, if I were pretending, what would be the point?

‘I don’t know. How old are you?’

‘Twelve.’

‘You look younger.’

‘I can’t help that, I’m wee for my age, even for a girl.’

‘So your father knows about me?’

‘Yes.’

‘And what does he think about it?’

‘He's been told that you are pretty.’

‘I’m not pretty, passable, but not pretty.’

‘You are and you know it.’

‘You are very opinionated for a twelve year old.’

‘I am what I am. Will you talk to him? He might take it from you.’

‘Take what?’

‘The truth.’

I looked at her. She did look too pretty to be a boy, even taking into account the androgynous thingie. Maybe she had a medical condition.

‘Have you seen a doctor about your height and other issues?’

‘No, I’m scared of Doctor Mulligan, he’s old and his breath smells of whisky all the time.’

‘If you do want to be seen as a girl, you will have to see lots of doctors and the first port of call is usually your GP.

‘If I was seen as a girl, I would see his daughter, Millie Mulligan, she is the GP for all the women.’

‘That seems a bit old fashioned…’ I started and then realised what I was saying. This island was in a bit of a time warp and I shouldn’t be surprised about anything.

She looked at me expectantly. Why was it that I was already getting intimately involved with people’s lives on the island? Is this how it was in a closely-knit community? Was there any inbreeding here? It would explain a lot…

I sighed.

‘All right, where do you live?’

‘I’ll take you tomorrow; you might find it hard to get to it. Can you be here tomorrow evening about seven?’

I nodded.

‘Thanks; you are sweet. See you then.’

She jumped up, gave me a hug and a kiss on the cheek and then before I could say anything else, she was gone.

‘Damn,’ I thought, ‘I still don’t know her name!’

I stayed on the beach and contemplated things for a while before returning to Aileen’s for the evening. Walking down to the shore, it was calming to hear and see the water gently lapping up the beach. I walked along the waters edge smiling, as I remembered the headlong horse ride just a short while ago. I would love to be able to ride a horse like that, but I was a bit of a coward where horses were concerned. As far as I knew, they could bite and kick you and I didn’t fancy that much. Maybe, Isabel knew of a horse that was as gentle as a lamb and perhaps she could teach me to ride.

All this would be something to think of in the future, as I had things to do and places to go before I could even think of things like leisure time.

I had only been on the island for a few days and already my life had changed dramatically from my previous one. The job description wasn’t anything like what I imagined it to be.

‘Still.’ I thought, ‘at least it’s interesting. But, what am I going to say to the girls father?’

I wasn’t an expert on gender matters. I was just a woman who had plumbing problems. Maybe the girl had issues that only a doctor could sort out. I would have to try to persuade her father to take her to the lady doctor, Millie Mulligan.

The sun started to set in the west, casting shadows over the rocks and hills to my left and leaving a long orange reflection over the water. The beach was virtually empty now, apart from a few dog walkers with their dogs, obviously.

It started to get a bit chilly, not surprising, considering how northerly the island was. I wondered what it was like on Muckle in the winter? Was it the opposite of how it was now? I would know soon enough, as long as I wasn’t run off the island as being some sort of subversive who wanted to change the way things had been around there for maybe hundreds of years.

I walked back up the beach away from the gently lapping waves that so soothed my soul. Ahead, in the distance, but seemingly quite close was the big mountain known as Beinn Uaibhreachd. It was so high, that the top was wreathed in mist as the cold air of the ground connected with the colder, higher regions.

I went up the steps from the beach and to my right was the pub, The Jolly Sailor. On an impulse, I went over to the pub and walked in.

Surprisingly, it was quite busy and not a little bit noisy. A juke box was pumping out annoying 80’s music.

Then Agadoo stopped and there was silence.

Everyone looked at me; everyone being about forty people.No one was smiling. There didn't seem to be anyone jolly in The Jolly Sailor.

I wondered what was wrong. Had I walked into a private party? Was this a Masonic Lodge meeting? Was my hair all mussed up?

There was a man behind the bar; he was polishing a glass so hard that he was in danger of breaking it. He looked pale and shocked at the sight of me.

He coughed as I walked over to the bar, my shoes making a certain amount of noise as I walked across the hard wood floor.

‘Erm, gin and tonic please.’

There was general intake of breath that depleted the oxygen in the room and made me feel somewhat lightheaded.

He looked as if I had insulted him. It made me wonder if he was going to pull a shotgun out from under the bar and then give me both barrels.

He seemed to find his voice.

‘I…I canna.’

‘You canna?’ I asked.

‘No.’

‘You canna what?’

‘Serve ye here.’

‘Why?’

I wondered for a moment if he and all the other people in the room had a thing against the transgendered community and in particular me. It was a fleeting thought, but still…

‘Ye have ta drink in there.’

He pointed to the corner and there was a door marked, “SNUG”.

I should have walked out, but I didn’t. I could have said something, I should have said something, but I was a bit shocked. I went over to the door and walked in.

It was a small bar with maybe six tables, there were only two taken and the only people in there were women — four of them and they all smiled at me, which was nice and bit more friendly than the initial response received in the other bar.

Then my razor sharp mind finally twigged it. The main bar only had men and this small one only had women.

The lady behind the bar said, ‘what will ye have dear?’

I should have been pleased about the fact that the men in the bar thought that I was a real live true woman and that I wasn’t considered “manly enough” to drink there. I should have been pleased, but I wasn’t.

I felt a bit miffed.

I walked over to the bar.

‘Can I have a gin and tonic please?’

‘Of course dear; go and sit down and I’ll bring it over. Ice and lemon?’

‘Yes please.’

I went to go to an empty table but was stopped by a youngish woman with fine long black hair, she was incredibly thin and I was a bit jealous because she was also very pretty indeed.

‘Come and sit with us,’ she said pleasantly.

I walked over and sat down,

‘Hello,’ I said.

Her companion was older, perhaps about forty, and a bit plump, but she had a pleasant open face that I felt was welcoming.

‘You’re Chloe?’ asked the younger woman as I sat down.

‘Yes, that’s me.’

‘I’m Morag and this is Claire,’ she said pointing to her companion.

‘Here ye are Chloe,’ said the lady from behind the bar. ‘My name is Fiona. Its quiet so I’ll rest a wee while.’

She sat down with us.

‘So Chloe,’ asked Morag, ‘what do you think about us?’

‘Us?’

‘The islanders.’

‘Oh, well, early days yet. Mind you it’s a bit of a shock this.’

‘What is?’ asked Fiona.

‘A pub where men are in one room and women appear only to be allowed in the snug.’

‘Aye, some of the men in this place should have been born in Victorian times. Mind you, it’s nice to get away from the men folk sometimes. Some of them are a pain in the tit!’

We all laughed at that.

As I sipped my drink, I wondered how I could persuade the landlord of the pub to drop that silly out-dated and possibly illegal segregation rule. Then I remembered that a golf course not many miles from where I lived in London had similar restrictions.

‘You didn’t really answer Morag’s question,’ said Claire, ‘what do ye think of us?’

‘Some people are lovely but I’m afraid not everyone seems to like me.’

‘Old Ma McTavish maybe?’ asked Morag.

‘Yes, we didn’t seem to hit it off.’

‘She’s a bigoted old woman who never forgave her husband for running off with a salesman.’

‘Salesman?’ I queried.

‘Yes it was a he.’

‘Oh.’

‘She got a down on anyone that doesn’t conform to her strict so called moral ethics, so you coming in as a erm, transy, wouldn’t have a chance of getting on the right side of her.’ said Claire.

‘I think you mean tranny or transsexual,’ I said, ‘so does everyone know that I was apparently born a boy?’

‘Oh yes,’ replied Claire, ‘everyone knows but most don’t mind a wee bit. Lets face it no one could possibly see you as a man. You are so pretty I could scratch your eyes out.’

She said that with a smile, so I took it as a compliment rather than any sort of violent intention.

‘So, ‘I asked, ‘ whose pub is it anyway?’

‘My husband Dougal,’ said Fiona.

I think that I may have shown my surprise.

‘I know what you are thinking. How can I allow him to have separate bars for men and women? Well the truth of it is that change comes slowly to Muckle. He married me ten years ago and I’m not yet considered a local. I come from Edinburgh and they would laugh at what we have to put up with here. Any changes take time but I’ve been trying to get him to see my way. But Hubby, bless him, is a cautious man and he likes the way things are now. If it came from me, it would seem that I, as an incomer was trying to alter the way of life here. A life that has been going well for God knows how many centuries.’

I rubbed my eyes. Suddenly I was feeling quite tired. Here was yet another sign of stagnation. People were resistant to change. Would I be able to change their way of thinking or would I fail as others had in dragging this wonderful place into the twenty-first century?

I couldn’t just jump in with both feet and try to make them change. I would have to be careful about approaching the people that matter and getting them on board with my plans.

Mind you, I had only been on Muckle for five minutes and I wasn’t sure what those plans might be yet.

I managed to get back to Aileen’s before lockout time. She wasn’t standing there with a rolling pin in her hands when I got back, but despite her hearing problems, she heard me open the front door quietly and nearly gave me a heart attack when she appeared from nowhere in her winceyette nightie, shocking pink candlewick dressing gown and curlers.

‘There ye are Jenny.’

‘I’m not Jenny.’

‘You’re not Margaret’s girl?’

‘No, I’m Chloe, remember, Sally introduced us and I’m staying here.’

‘Oh yes, there you are Chloe. Have a nice evening?’

‘Yes thank you.’

‘Off to bed are ye now?’

‘That’s right.’

‘Good night to ye then. Are you sure that you aren’t Jenny?’

‘Certain; good night then,’ I replied as I left her in the hall and made my way to my bedroom.

I was undressed and in my bed before I realised that she had heard me perfectly well. She might be a bit muddled and forgetful, but I wondered how deaf she really was.

The next morning I was up bright and early. I had things to do and places to go and as I was a very conscientious and hard working Tourist officer type person, I was keen to get started.

Auntie Aileen was still in bed, so I had some cornflakes and a cup of tea and then after checking that it wasn’t monsoon weather outside, but bright and sunny, I dressed accordingly in white capri’s and lemon top and then applied makeup. I wasn’t one of those girls who plastered the stuff on; I liked to be subtle.

I was now ready to face the world and with a hey, and a ho, and a hey-nonny-no, I swiftly went to the shed where Pinkie was and trying not to think too much about big hairy spiders hidden in corners ready to pounce on me, I took her off her stand and wheeled her out to the bright sunlight.

Soon we were going up and down some narrow lanes as I tried to get to know more about that wonderful island. Looking over to the mountain, I could see some clouds creeping over the peeks, hiding the summit from view.

I carried on my way and I found myself going down a narrow lane that I hope would lead to somewhere nice. I should have had a Tom-tom thingie as I hadn’t a clue where I was, but I couldn’t get lost on an island could I?

Of course, I got lost.

Well, it wasn’t my fault. Every little wiggly lane looked like any other and when you’ve seen one pretty beach you’ve seen them all. Okay that’s an exaggeration, but there were so many, I couldn’t be expected to know where I was all the time, could I?

I think that makes sense.

Anyhoo, I was looking at the mountain and those clouds that sort of covered the top of it and the next minute, the sun switched off and it went all dark and then there was thunder and lightning and then it poured down.

We are not talking about a gentle shower here. We’re talking full on cats, dogs, rabbit and cows type rain.

In seconds I was soaked. Then the wind started and as you may remember I was only wearing the skimpiest of clothing.

It was a toss up whether I would die of drowning or exposure, as the temperature plummeted to what seemed to me to be sub zero levels

Oh, did I mention that there were now trees all around me and the lightning and thunder were getting very close by now, so being struck by lightning was a distinct possibility. It didn’t help that I was sitting on a damp, pink metal scooter.

I nearly wet myself when I heard the sound of a hooter. What I mean by that is that rather than getting wet from the outside in, I mean the inside out as my bladder…well never mind about that.

Anyway there was this hooter car horn type noise coming from behind me.

I looked around and there was the car.

The Porsche.

The Porsche with its roof up.

The Porsche with what looked like the Incredible Hunk inside.

Alistair.

I would have gasped if my teeth weren’t chattering so much.

Her opened a window and gestured to me.

I put Pinkie by the side of the road and put her on her stand. Then, without a second thought, I ran to the car, wrenched the door open, swiftly got in and rather wetly sat down on the leather passenger seat.

He looked at me and I looked at him.

He was sooo lovely looking, but I had to keep a level head. I was the hard-nosed business woman, with steely resolve. Someone not to be trifled with and in full control of the situation.

‘Hello Chloe McKerrell.’

‘Hi.’ I breathed, well gasped really, but still…

‘You look wet.’

He obviously had powerful skills of observation.

‘Y…yes,’ I replied, shivering with the cold.

‘Grab that blanket from the back. Look you need to get dry; my place is about a mile down the lane. I’ll take you there and then you can get out of those wet things and into something a bit more comfortable.’

‘Gosh.’ I replied as the car accelerated down the road, nearly leaving my tummy behind in the rain.

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To Be Continued...

Sorry about the delay in posting. I have a lot of real life things going on at the moment. I hope to post more in the future.

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