Newyear's resolution.

'Happy New Year!' rang joyously through the bar as Barbara offered her farewells to everybody at the party. It was 4a.m. And she was beginning to feel tired. Now in her seventies and deemed to be a long established patron of the bar where everybody knew her name, she had no need to give explanations for her seemingly early departure. They all bid her 'good luck' and 'happy new year' as she paused at the door and waved a brief goodbye. The party was still in full swing and music thumped from within as she stepped outside into the bitter cold. The sudden silence seemed strange as the heavy door swung shut behind her, then the fearfull moan of the wind replaced the party sounds as the bitter blast of cold air cut through her flimsy topcoat and the sleat chilled her face. She shivered as she dug out her keys and stepped cautiously towards her car.

“Jeeze it was cold!” She stuttered as she studied the icy pavement. It behoved her to take care. Now slightly unsteady on her partying heels because of her age, she took her time as she picked her way along the pavement towards her car. It was a good job she had turned up early at the bar to help prepare the food for this had ensured her a parking slot close to the bar-room door.

Finally, she made it along the treacherous icy pavement and fiddled with the key in the frozen lock until the door released and she gratefully settled into the driver's seat before starting the engine. It was several minutes before the car began to warm up and that gave her time to reflect on the past year as the demisters cleared the windows and the warm air slowly brought feeling to her feet. Finally it was safe enough to leave and she cautiously pulled out into the late-night / early-morning traffic bent on getting home.

To her annoyance the sleat now turned to snow and a light dusting was beginning to stick.. It did nothing to hamper her on the main tarmaced roads but she knew the journey would become tricky as she got closer to home. She lived in a remote canal-side cottageand negotiating the narrow lane down to the isolated canal basin would require great care especially where the winding lane was crossed by a couple of streams as it 'hair-pinned' down the side of the valley.

As she entered the lane she got her first warning as her car slid brifly sideways on an icy patch. Knowing that it would get worse further down the lane, she realised it was going to be too dangerous to try and negotiate in the dark especially as the patchy snow hid several worse spots further down the lane where the flooding streams sometimes froze all the way across the hairpins. At the bottom, the lane got steeper with progressively sharper hairpins and she knew the lane well enough not to risk going much further with an ordinary two-wheeled-drive city car.

“I should have used the landrover,” she told herself as she pulled over into the only suitable 'passing place' and dug out some suitable footwear, an extra coat and her re-chargeable flashlight.
Thus equipped she set off cautiously down the lane.

Living as she did in the only remaining lock-keeper's cottage beyond the canal basin, she was fully cognocent of the dangers associated with the slippery lane and living in isolation. She now faced a half-mile trudge in the freezing dark.but she felt confident for she knew the lane well. With the flashlight beam illuminating her way, she picked her way carefully then, after a few steps she noticed, in a slightly deeper patch of snow, that a car had recently gone down the lane earlier that evening.
It would have been quite recent because it had only started snowing in the last hour or so. This meant that somebody was visiting the canal basin, possibly one of the boat-owners. She half expected to find some sort of party on one of the boats and sighed to herself.

'It looks as though it was going to be a noisy night.' she told herself as she trudged along the lane while the snow now blew in thicker flurries around her.

“Ah well, at least I can close my cottage door and ignore it.” She mused, for the cottage was beside the lock that was several hundred yards from the canal basin.

She continued picking her way down the lane taking note of the icy patches until she came to the canal tow path and she studied the moored boats in the basin. There seemed to be no sign of life and certainly no sign of the car that had obviously passed down the lane earlier. She shrugged for it was possible that the car had gone past the basin towards some boats moored further around the bend. She did not bother to go looking for the car because the cold was beginning to bite now and she was keen to reach the warmth of her cottage. She had left the heating on and the the prospect of her warm kitchen was inviting.

Shrugging her shoulders, she turned and trudged carefully along the slippery towpath until she reached her cottage.. Grateful to get inside, she removed her heavy coat, tugged off her wellingtons, put her torch on charge then made for the kitchen. As she switched on the kettle a famiiar feline shape stirred from the armchair beside the coal-burning aga stove. She smiled as the shape stretched and sat up.

“Hello Carbon, I knew you'd be in the warm, where's Amber and Crystal?”

Carbon simply stared at the cat-basket as though to say. 'I don't know, they're not in their usual place.' However, Barbara knew where else to look and a bedroom visit soon revealed the pair curled up on the bed having turned her nighty into a nest.

“Get off there you little monsters' she smiled affectionately as she recalled she had not closed the bedroom door.

The feline pair scurried down the steep cottage stairs and took station beside Carbon with all three looking up expectantly. She wagged her head and dug out some catfood as the kettle began to sing. Within minutes she was sat warm and comfortable in her favourite chair beside the Aga while the cats picked delicately at the unexpected early morning feast. Finally, she sighed contentedly, closed the kichen door and made her way to bed.

Her bedroom window faced away from the canal towards the winding lane. She had chosen the back bedroom to avoid all the clamour of canal boaters operating the locks in the boating season and it also meant that nobody could peep into her most private bedroom because the rear of the cottage was walled off from the towpath. In the summer, she could sit out in the little walled garden invisible to hikers, cyclists and boat owners. For a retired lady it was an idyllic location except for the remoteness.

That night, as she closed her curtains, she heard and saw a car, probably the same car, pick it's way up the slippery lane as it returned to the main road.. Her binoculars told her it was a four-by-four and she watched as it slowed down several times as though the driver was contemplating each icy, hairpin bend.

Then, on the fourth hairpin, she saw the driver, stop and and pull out some sort of large package or bundle in a plastic rubbish bag. It was heavy and he was forced to drag it to the steep edge of the hairpin and toss it into the steep sided gully before driving off again.

She cursed the driver for his littering and tried to make out the number plate but it was too far and the vehicled was now blocked out by the trees. She did however recognise the make, it was a short wheelbase Shogun, either Navy Blue or Black.

“Bugger!” She cursed as she looked at the large dirty rubbish bag that had slid down the slope and lodged against one of the trees that had fallen into the gully earlier that winter..

The littering had so incensed her that she stood staring at it for several minutes while she fumed impotently. Then to her astonishment, a tiny light appeared from the side of the bag and flickered feebly between the tree trunks.

Her curiosity turned to a frown as the flickering light started to sway from side to side.

“Bloody hell!” She gasped as she tried to make sense of the situation.

The only sensible and plausible explanation was that the light somehow belonged to somebody who was stuck inside the bag. And that mean't that they must have been dumped there by the Shogun owner. The drop into the gully was a good fifteen feet with a steep slope preceding it. All in all the bundle had rolled about fifty feet down the slope before fetching up against the tree trunks. It was in a precarious position and could fall into the gully.

Adrenaline now took over as the dawning realisation came to her that somebody in that bag was still alive.

Her first thought was to somehow reassure whomsoever it was that help was on the way. She returned to her back porch where she had only recently hung up her divested coat and wellingtons. There she found not only the car flash-light but also the powerful 1000 candla super light that she kept for general household duties. This big light had a pistol grip and could run directly off the re-chargeable batteries or from the mains adapter. She tested it and dazzled herself momentarily before putting on her heavy canvas work trousers, leather work boots and quilted work jacket.

She decided to take both lights in case she needed a 'flood-light'. Thus equipped, she stepped out of the back door and aimed the super-light towards the dark gully where she quickly picked up the black bag in the powerful beam. The flickering light was no longer visible so she grabbed a coil of rope and trotted as fast as her septugenarian legs could carry her.

As she hurried towards the bend in the lane, she flashed her light at every possible source of human existance in the vague hope of disturbing somebody, but all was silent in the canal basin for nobody in there right mind would venture to such a remote spot on a frozen New Years morning. As she panned the powerful light around she noticed that ice had started to form on the water. Nobody was stirring.

Eventually, she reached the gully and wedged the large lamp in the fork of a tree pointing down into the gully where the bag lay crumpled against the logs. Next she tied the rope to a branch and cautiously abseiled as best she could remember from the long distant memories of her youth. Eventually, she arrived at the plastic bag and realised it was several heavy duty builder's bags taped together to completely enshroud the person inside.

As she approached she called through her clenched teeth for she had the small torch hand-loop in her jaws. There was no response at first until she finally reached the bag and got herself on a firm fooring. With, ice, wet leaves, snow, mud and rushing water, the gully was a treacherous place. She located the hole where the bag's were poorly taped together and the occupant had used to wave her mobile phone. The phone now lay useless in the rushing stream below the bag. She reached in and a cold hand responded weakly. The reaction sent a wave of relief through the older woman as she realised that the victim, whoever it was, seemed to be still alive.

“Just hold on, we'll get you out of here,” she said as she tried to reassure the victim.

“Mmmph, mmmph, mmmph,” came the response.

The old woman groped in the stream for a sharp stone for she had forgotten to bring a knife. Eventually, her numbed fingers located a fairly sharp stone and she despearately commenced slicing and cutting at the tough rubble bags. Soon she had an arm and shoulder free only to discover that the victim had been bound by the same 'gaffer-tape' as that around the bag. Fortunately, the sharp stone made short work of the bindings and soon the victim was free of the bag.

She was flimsily clad in a skimpy cocktail dress and little else so it behoved her rescuer to get her to the cottage as soon as. The victims muffled cries obviated the next task and finally her rescuer cut carefully at the tape covering the mouth .

The girl let out a strangled gasp of relief before sobbing out 'Thank you! Who are you?'

-“That's my prerogative young lady. Who are you?”

“I'm Lola, the bastard tried to kill me, I- I'm freezing.”

“Yes, I understand that Lola. My names Barbara. Now, can you use your legs?”

The girl cautiously reached down and frowned.

“I can hardly feel them, they're so cold.”

“Never mind that, can you move them?”

The girl cautiously tried to move one leg and nodded when it responded. Barbara wasted no more time in chat. She retied herself and the girl to the rope and immediately started the ascent up the slippery slope above the gully. Fortunately the girl was able to help with tugging on the rope.

They evntually reached the top where the girl slumped from emotional stress. Her feet were bleeding badly but Barbara had no time for sympathy. She was beginning to feel the chill herself and needed the warmth of the cottage pronto. She hoisted the reluctant Lola to her feet and part carried, part bullied the girl to the cottage. The effort left her exhausted and she left Lola sitting in the kitchen armchair while she turned up the AGA and dug out some thick blankets from the airing cupboard.

“Get those clothes off and wrap yourself in these. I've got a warm wincyette pair of onesies if you want.”

Lola's eyes widened with concern then she nodded nervously while still shivering.

“Y – yes p- p- please.”

Barbara trudged off to the airing cupboard and returned just as the now naked Lola was stepping out of her pants.

“Here you are love I-.” Barbara froze. . “Oh! Sorry darling.”

She turned away, placed the onesies on the kitchen table and returned to the hall while closed the door before calling out.

“Put them on love, then we'll have a cup of tea.”

She hear the girl whimpering nervously and presuumed the scraped chair was a consequence of her urgent attempts to dress quickly.. Barbara paused for a couple of minutes then knocked gently.

“Are you decent love?”

A short, clipped nervous 'Yes' was the reply followed by silence.

Once again Barbara paused before knocking again and declaring.

“I need to get in the kitchen to make the tea love. If your frightened, wait in the back porch, but I promise you there's no need to be.”

The door to the hall edged open and frightened eyes peered through. Barbara smiled her softest smile and repeated.

“There's absolutely no need to be afraid. I understand your problem.”

“Do you?” Lola croaked.

“Yes. You may not realise it love but we're sisters. I'm just a lot further along life's highway.”

“What d'you mean?”

“I'm post-op love.”

Lola almost squealed with uncertain relief.

“What?”

“I'm post op darling. I have been for many years.”

Lola squinted disbelievingly.

“How long?”

“I'm seventy eight now darling. I had the op when I was twenty nine. That's forty nine years ago.”

Lola fell silent and Barbara took the opportunity to finish making the tea. She firstly laid out her tea set on the kitchen table then also produced some fruit cake from her larder and set it out neatly on her pretty matching tea plates with the deep pink rosebuds. The display caught Lola's eye as she hastily devoured the cake..

“These are nice.”

“Thank you darling, I must confess I rather like fuschia. D'you want another piece of cake?”

Lola had already finished the first piece and Barbara had caught her eyeing the delicious cake hungrily.

“Please?”

Barbara cut another extra thick wedge and passed it across as she noticed the gratitude in Lola's eyes. Having earned the girl's gratitude Barbara decided to push her suit slightly.

“I couldn't help noticing just then, would you care to tell me who gave you those bruises?”

“Is that all you noticed?”

“No darling but the other thing is not for me to ask about unless you want to talk. My being transgendered does not give me any sort of special licence to pry.”

Nevertheless, transgenderism had inadvertently become the 'elephant-in-the-room' and Lola was curious to know what it was like all those years ago.

“That bastard who dumped me. When he discovered thi- this,” - she passed her hand vaguly across her tummy, “he went beserk.”

Barbara nodded knowingly but did not comment. It was best to let Lola talk

“I'm sure you can guess the rest.” Lola almost spat the words out.

Barbara nodded again before comfirming, “same old, same old.”

“I suppose it happened to you then.”

“Yes girl, many times, but never my fault. I was very attractive when I was young and they came onto me. I always made it quite clear that I was not interested but they always tried to push their suit. Men were like that back in those days. They presumed that any woman on her own was some sort of public property to be used and abused. They would try to force themselves upon me and then, if they discovered what they weren't expecting, the shit would hit the fan.

Of course, in those days it was always my fault. 'Behaviour likely to cause a breach of the peace!' that was usually the charge.' There was no defence back then. Trangenderism was not 'being', it was 'doing' and my having a cock; well, that was considered a deliberate act of provocation.”

Lola nodded thoughtfully as she noted the world-weary irony.

“There's no way around it is there? It's pretty much the same today.”

Barbara shrugged wryly.

“Well, men's behaviour hasn't changed much but at least the law has changed. It's supposed to protect us and I must confess it's come a long way.”

“Huh not far e-bloody-nough I find,” Lola cursed.”

“From where your standing perhaps not, but from my perspective it's moved light years.”

“Were there many like you? Back then.” Lola wondered.

“Not outwardly. From when I came out until I was fifty or I think I knew about half a dozen. Then things started to get a bit easier. How many trans friends do you have.

“Two, but I'm only fifteen.” Lola confessed.

“Good God, aren't you still in school?”

“No.”

“You should be shouldn't you, school leaving is sixteen now isn't it?”

“Yeah, and -.”

“And what?” Barbara wondered aloud.

“I've only just come out just before Christmas. If I was at school today, I'd be leaving alright, but probably in a coffin.”

“That's a bit strong love, you might not have to go to school. What about home tutoring?”

“Ha. Don' make me laugh! Those two – Dan-and-Doris, couldn't educate a circus puppy. They were a pair of religious wierdo's As far as I'm concerned, home is where the hurt is!” She snapped.

Babara caught the gist and replied.

“As opposed to where the heart is.”

“Exactly.”

“So are you still living at home?”

“Not any more thank God, not since Christmas day.”

“So where have you been living for the past few days?”

“Sofa surfing. I thought I had one good friend until she fixed me up with the arsehole who did this to me.”

Lola unzipped the top of her onesie to expose the bruised ribs. Barbara nodded thoughtfully.

“I don't suppose your friend realised that your abuser was transphobic.”

“Maybe not, but she did know him well so how can I trust her judgement again?”

“Well that's for the future. The big issue is what to do now. D'you want me to call the police now or in the morning?”

“I can't face the police just now, besides they'll only call my foster parents.”

“Oh, so they're not your real parents.”

“Na-ah. They went off the scene years ago. Can't even remember them. My biological father disappeared before I was born and my Mother got shot me of within twelve months. She was a total waste of fucking space as a mother anyway for she came from a broken home and didn't know who her father was either. Two generations of losers, that's me.

Barbara recognised the familiar story but pressed a bit harder; though not too hard.

“And I suppose these aren't the first foster parents you've had?”

“Got it in one girl. One long string of parental failures cos of my girly stuff.”

“Child of the system.” Barbara closed the subject.

Lola's expression darkened as she nodded.

“Well much as I'd like to help, technically you're still a missing child. I'd be in deep shit if didn't inform social services.”

“Well just let it lie for a couple of days then maybe.”

Barbara wagged her head.

“Sorry. No can do. Your best bet is the police. It protects me and strengthens our hand if you really want to stay here. It's very pleasant from Spring to Autumn.

“I said, I don't want the police involved, well not yet. As I said, they'll only inform my foster parents and they'll want me back because they get paid a lot in fostering fees from the social. I'd be back in there clutches toot-sweet!”

“Not necessarily. The police are more alert to things these days, they take account of your feelings, but they will still have to alert social services if you're only fifteen.”

“And what then, stick me in some poxy hostel or children's home.”

“Better that than living on the street girl. But for now, I think a warm bed is the best solution if you don't want to call the police.”

“I think I'd prefer to wait until the morning. There's no hurry, my friend knows who my abuser is.”

“Okay then, if you're adamant, I can help you a bit for now. I've got two spare rooms but only one bathroom. You could stay here but Social services will have to be told. Once they know you're safe and warm, they'll possibly acede to your staying here, if you wish. Nothing certain mind and you'll still have to be quite clear about your feelings.”

“What about the – you know, the trans thing.”

“You're fifteen, that means you'll have a lot of say about what they do with you. Believe it or not, being trans can actually work for you with social services. All those tales you hear in The Sun about social services and lesbian parents is a load of bollocks. Where would you prefer; the street, some sort of hostel, your foster parent's home; your friends sofa or a bed here with somebody who at leasts understands and is sympathetic?”

“When you put it like that there's no contest. Can I have another piece of that fruitcake please?”

“Of course, d'you want more tea?”

“Yes please.”

Barbara watched as the girl wolfed down the cake then realised the girl must be starving.”

“D'you want a cooked breakfast?”

Lola looked up spologetically. She was slightly embarrassed for appearing so greedy.

“Can I? Is it too much to ask?”

Barbara glanced at the timer on her microwave.

“It's nearly six o'clock. You might as well eat breakfast now.”

“Have you been to bed yet?”

Having been reminded of bed, Barbara could not help yawning.

“Aaaww, no not yet anyway. I was clubbing 'til four this morning. Once I've made you something I'll be catching some shut eye.“

“There's no need. I can eat later, when you get up.”

“Oh don't worry. I'm a dreadful sleeper. There's no knowing when I'll wake.”

So saying Barbara soon had breakfast on the go and Lola couldn't resist the aroma of eggs and bacon..

“It's not the full English love but it'll fill a corner. You can top up with toast and Jam.”

“This is more than enough. How can I thank you?”

“By doing the right thing later, and telling the police.”

“Don't worry, I intend to.”

“Good. But bed for now. You can have a shower first. There's plenty of hot water.”

“Thanks.”

It was seven o'clock before Lola was in bed and she hugged herself as she heard Barbara doing her own ablutions. She called out as she heard Barbara crossing the landing.

“Good night, and thanks for everything!”

“Good morning more like kid, but keep the bedroom door closed or you're likely to get a visit from the cats.”

With that both of them were soon asleep.

As the dawn finally won the tussle between light and dark Barbara heard a yelp from the spare bedroom.

“Ow-ouch! What the fuck -! Why you little monster!”

“What's up.” Barbara called, already suspecting the answer.

“The black cat just stuck a claw in my toe!”

“How did he get in?”

“I must have failed to close the bedroom door when I went to the loo earlier.”

“That's just his way of wishing you a good-morning.”

“What time is it?”

“Nine-ish. Has he drawn blood?”

“Yes. The little monster has!”

Barbara chuckled. Lola was not the first guest to have fallen foul of Carbon's 'good-mornings'.

“Come here, I've got some plasters in my bedside table.”

Lola hopped across the landing to avoid getting blood on the pale carpets then plopped down on Barbara's bed to extend her injured toe for inspection.

“Oh it's just a scratch, he's done worse.”

Lola grinned as Barbara stretched the plaster across the injured toe and explained further.

“It mean's he likes you and if he likes you, then you can become one of the family.”

“Ha, don't talk to me of families

Barbara fell silent. She'd find out more about Lola when the police and the Social Services arrived. Lola stood up and looked through the rear window of Barbara's bedroom.

“It's pretty here what with the woods and the lane and stuff.”

“Just take a look out of your own bedroom window. The view's far better.”

Lola followed Barbara's suggestion and gave a squeak of pleasure when she pulled back the curtain of her front facing bedroom.

“Wow! You can see right across the estuary! Is that the lock?”

“Yes. It allows entry into the tidal reaches. There's quite a permanent community of canal boaters further up the Canal but in the basin it's mostly just second homers. Take a peek through the side window on the landing, you can see all the way past the basin.”

Lola padded down the landing as directed and exclaimed excitedly.

“Gosh, you're right! Oh! There's a heron! Are there a lot of people living on boats here?”

“About twenty I think. I know most of them.”

“Like a little village then.”

“Yes. Now d'you want me to phone the police or social services?”

Lola hesitated uncertainly.

“Which is best?”

“The police, you were assaulted and kidnapped, remember.”

“Okay. I suppose so. Best get it over with.”

Barbara frowned as her gaze narrowed.

“Are you hiding something girl? Most girls would be hell-bent on retribution.”

“Na-ah. I'm just nervous. I don' want to end up in another bloody hostel.”

“Well we'll ask for a social worker to attend as well. They invariably get involved if there's a 'juvenile runaway' situation. I hope they'll be agreeable for you to live with me in the short term. Places for kids from care are always at a premium. I suppose if a kid's trangendered then that makes it doubly hard for the social.”

“Try and convince them.” Lola pleaded. “I can't face another bloody hostel.”

Barbara nodded sympathetically as she dialed her mobile.

“Hello-. Yes, I've got a runaway from foster care here, she want's to speak to the police.”

She handed the phone to Lola who hurriedly explained. Then she handed the phone back to Barbara who explained the circumstances. Then she turned to Lola again.

“They're happy for me to take you to the station. There'll be a social worker when we get there.”

“Am I doing the right thing/” Lola asked. “Please make sure I can stay here. At least you understand.”

“ Can't guarantee it girl but I'll try my hardest.”

With these words, they dressed and took the landrover into town because the lane was now treacherous. Lola looked provocative in her short cocktail dress but Bab's had nothing alternative in Lola's size. Fortunately, she had some panties still in their cellophane; not a perfect fit but at least clean and new.

At the police station they were ushered into separate interview rooms. Two hours later barbara's interview was complete but Lola's took much longer because of the criminal assault and the medical exam. It was three o'clock when the pair met again in the police canteen. There Barbara met the social worker who had sat in on Lola's interview. She wasted no time in determining Lola's fate.

“So what's the plan?” Barbara asked.

The social worker hesitated and thus sending a shiver of uncertain fear down Lola's spine. Finally she spoke.

“Lola has asked if she can live with you. We might acede to that because she's fifteen but we'll have to do CRB checks. Do you have any objections?”

“I'll have to agree to it but I have to warn you. I have a record of arrests as long as your arm.”

The social worker's face darkened with uncertainty.

“What for?”

“Oh all the usuall stuff that used to be laid against us tee-girls all those years ago, you know; behaviour likely to, disturbing the peace, indecent exposure and so on.”

“When was the last arrest?”

“About twenty years ago. They'll have records of them here in Bristol and in Birmingham Police HQ.”

“How long have you lived at your current address, - the lock-keeper's cottage.”

“Uuhhm, would you believe forty years?”

The social worker's eyebrows raised with slight surprise.

“Is it your own house?”

“Yes.”

“How did you come by it?”

“I don't see what that has to do with anything but if you must know, through a lot of hard work and lonliness.”

“How d'you mean?”

“I may have been arrested and detained now and then, but most of the time, I was out of the country – working – at sea would you believe?”

“What company?”

Barbara listed a couple of foreign shipping companies.

“How did you do that? As a woman I mean?”

“I kept my surgery a secret. I had it done in Thailand when I was in my late twenties but I didn't declare it to the British authorities until I was over forty. Even then, I did not reveal it to my foreign employers. I passed for a man, despite my surgery and my breasts were quite small so they were easy to hide.

Provided I had a Liberian Licence, I was employable as a master. It worked. When On leave I was Barbara, when working abroad, I was William – or 'Bill' for short. Then the initials and siganature where the same.”

The social worker shook her head and frowned.

“And nobody ever found out. What about doctors, medicals, that sort of stuff?”

“No questions are asked on Liberian ships, that's what flags of convenience are all about. If you can stand up and spit five feet, you'll do. No names, no pack drill.”

“So what about an income? - Now I mean”

“I've got a good pension. That's one good thing about the British merchant navy pension scheme back then. You could work on some foreign ships and if the company was prepared to keep back some of your wages and pay it into the scheme as contributions, then you accumulated a pension, and a very good one at that. I live quite well thank you.”

The social worker pulled a surprised face.

“Could you support Lola, as a foster child?”

“Of course I could, and house her comfortably.”

“Well there would be fostering allowances for her as well.”

“I wasn't looking for them. Besides, when she's sixteen, wouldn't those cease?”

“No, not if she continues at school and if she goes to college as well.”

“That's up to Lola.”

The social worked glanced questioningly at Lola.

“How are you doing academically?”

“So, so. Well as can be expected I suppose.”

“Meaning?”

“School has alway's been shit. Bullying, teasing, abuse, assault. Know what I mean?”

The social worker nodded thoughtfully. She had heard before about transgendered suicides, often in part caused by school bullying.

“Do you really want to live with Barbara?”

“Yes! Definitely! Anything's better than Dan and Doris!”

“Well they were sincere and well meaning. The last foster-child they had was gay and that worked out. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't. So, Barbara, I think we can look past all those arrests, things have moved on and I can oly apologise for what went before. We cerainly don't hold that sort of stuff against the victims back then, for that's what they were.”

“Amen to that,” Barbara agreed.

Even as Barbara finished, the social worker was on her phone to her boss. Barbara listened to the onesided conversation.

“Yes. I think so. Yes. Yes. It's that cottage by the river lock. I often wondered who lived there. It's an idyllic setting. Yes, Lola's keen, it gives her space and privacy. Yes. Yes. No.”

Barbara wondered what the 'no' answered to but didn't ask. The yesses seemed to far outnumber the no's and she hoped that they were positive markers. Eventually the social worker looked up and explained.

“We are required by law to check the house, do you have any objections?”

“When?” Was Barbara's only question.

“Well, this afternoon if possible, before dark. My line manager is on his way there now. Shall we go?”

“We'd better hurry. My land-rover is not the fastest horse in the race.”

With a brief word to the station sergeant they set off post-haste At the top of the lane they met the social services departmental head and decided to make the descent by land-rover. Soon they were in the cottage where Carbon, Amber and Crystal endeared themselves to the lady social worker as they examined the circumstances.

“Which will be Lola's bedroom?” The man asked.

“Either of those two. I have the one at the back of the cottage because it's quieter when the canal is busy.”

He nodded agreeably.

“Well, I cant see any serious obstacles. If you are prepared to accept her now, we can sort out the CRB checks ASAP. Do you have any clothes Lola?”

“Some,” Lola replied. “They're in my back-pack at my friends flat.”

“Sofa surfing were you?” The lady asked.

Lola nodded ruefully as the man added.

“We'll escort you there if you wish. I suspect the police will be interviewing your friend even as we speak.”

“Will she be in trouble?” Lola asked.

“Shouldn't think so. Unless she knew of any previous stuff.”

After a further inspection and a satisfactory conclusion, Barbara drove them up the lane and everybody drove in convoy to Lola's friend's flat. There were two police cars and four officers already present. Inside, Lola's friend had been crying and a lady police officer was consolling her while another was talking on her phone.

“They've got him. He says he was shocked and yet relieved when he learned Lola was alive.”

“That still doesn't excuse his actions!” Lola protested.

“Indeed it doesn't miss.” The inspector concurred. “We are bringing him in now.”

“Good!” Lola replied angrily. “Throw the bloody book at him!”

“That's my cousin you're talking about!” her friend sobbed.

“Well why didn't you tell him I was pre-op.”

“Did he know youre under sixteen Miss?” The inspector pressed.

Lola hesitated before replying in a small voice.

“Uuhm, no.”

“And I gather your circumstances were not known to him?”

“What's that got to do with it?” Lola argued.

“These days young lady, most transsexuals know enough to tell a man if they intend to become intimate.” The inspector replied.

“Well I didn't know that. It was my first time.”

“And nearly your last young lady. I can assure the full weight of the law will be brought to bear on your assailant but I hesitate to say this, let it be a lesson to you. You were lucky. Irrespective of any gender issues, no girl should just go off with a stranger to a remote place without knowing the individual properly.”

Lola smirked dismmissively.

“Huh. I'll be going off with a seventy year old stranger tonight and sleeping in her cottage.”

The inspector bristled – rightfully.

“Listen young lady. This is no bloody joke! That same elderly lady risked her own injuries to save your life, then she informed the police and behaved with impeccable sobriety. The social workers have moved heaven and earth to see you properly placed, your friend is devastated by developments and my officers have been running around all over the place to find your assailant. I suggest that you reflect seriously on what's happened! Now, I and my officers are finished here. I suggest you thank the social workers and go home with this lady to start the rest of your life.”

Lola fell silent while Barbara sidled into the kichen to find the makings for a cup of tea. She returned to Find Lola hugging her still tearful friend while the social workers were preparing to leave. It was six p.m.
On the journey back to the lock-keeper's cottage Lola slowly opened up. Apologetically at first then to show gratitude.

“I'm sorry Barbara – for all the trouble.”

“Don't worry too much kid. You made a stupid mistake; we've all made those.”

“Are you angry?”

“Not really, just glad you're okay; but the inspector was right, learn from this.”

Lola nodded as she turned curiously.

“Where are we going?”

Barbara nodded towards a large neon sign as they turned a corner.

“Too the supermarket kid. I'll need to double up on all the food I've got in the house. If it snows heavily, I can be stuck down there for several days, even with the land-rover.”

“Is it that bad then?”

“It can be. I was once stuck down in the cottage for over a week even with the land-rover available. Fortunately I had just enough food to get by but it was a boring diet. I won't get caught like that again. Go and get two trollies.”

An hour later they were filling the land-rover and back on the road. It had started to snow again.

“Will we get down the lane Babs?” Lola wondered aloud.

“Should do, but we might not drive back up again if it gets too deep. It's okay though. The other car is still parked at the top and we can always walk up if the land-rover cant make it.”

“But we won't need to with all this food.”

“Exactly, “ Barbara confirmed.

After a few minutes silence, Lola began to wonder about Barbara's history. The idea of a transexual in her seventees piqued her interest.

“Where were you born Babs?”

“Oooh hell, that was a long ways back babes. A small town in North Wales, called Ruthin.”

“When did you know.”

“Sometime between four and five. First year at infant school. I preferred playing with the girls, you know, all the usual markers, playing with dollies, playing house, skipping games, you name it, William did it”

“Yeah William. I shortened it to Bill and Bill it remained whenever I had to use a male persona.”

“And then?”

“Oh, you know, long years of being denied access to my female side. Punishments at school, especially High School; attacks by jocks. Some I won, most I lost. Finally I escaped from school as soon as I turned fifteen and then a series of jobs until I got a job on a ship. That opened up a whole new world, - the whole world in fact. It gave me a lot of privacy when I was off duty in my own little cabin, my own little domain. Finally, I saved enough money to have the 'op' in Thailand and I more or less lived out east for ten years. I crawled up the hawse-pipe to become an old man, captain that is, you understand? I passed my Mate's ticket in Calcutta, India and my Masters ticket in Sydney, Australia.”

“Gosh, you've been around haven't you? Did you ever find a partner?”

“Sadly no. Strangely I was attracted to girls, not boys. I know that sound's daft for a transsexual but it's true. Boys never interested me. They were always too bossy, too pushy, too demanding. I only liked girls.”

“D'you mind if I ask something?”

“Go on. I'm too old for secrets; or more correctly, I don't care to have any.”

“I hope you don't mind my asking but have you ever slept with anybody?”

“Never any boys. I don't like being 'the bottom'. I slept with a few girls, about four or five I suppose, all when I was in my early twenties. I lost interest about aged twenty seven and had the op at twenty nine. After that, no more sex, no more problems.”

“Do you miss it? The actual sex that is.”

“No. I can masturbate, female style.. It takes a lot of concentration and a mains type 'wand' but eventually I achieve an orgasm, female style that is. Thai surgeons are the best and they were the first to pioneer converting the 'glans' into a clitoris. I was one of their earliest successes. I've kept my vagina open with dilating but I've only ever used it once or twice and that was a lesbian with a dildo.As I've said, I've no time for boys.”

“Would you mind if I ever brought a boy back to my room?”

“Provided you're over sixteen, no. And I suggest you take that Inspecor's advice to heart. Let there be no illusions and tell the boy first that you are transgendered.”

“Yeah, that's the truth.”

There followed a brief contemplative silence before Lola asked again.

“If you like girls, why didn't you settle down with one? Maybe some nice thai girl?”

“Now you've struck a chord there. There was a girl I thought was good for the long haul but things didn't work out. She seemed okay about it but her family were a load of arseholes. She was from Hull, and I met her in Newcastle.”
“What happened.”

“Well we were together for about six months and I told her early on about my gender issues. She seemed to accept them and at first her family seemed okay then she got pregnant by me; yes that's right I functioned properly as a male, at least down there.”

“And?”

“Well when the family found out, they concluded in their twisted minds, that the baby would be born a freak. You know, a hermaphrodite or something; anyway, the upshot was they persuaded the girl to have an abortion. She refused but apparently, the baby was adopted. I suppose I have a baby out there if he or she survived. She'd be in her late forties. Anyway. We lost touch through no fault of ours. Her family made sure we never got together again.”
“Do you ever wonder?”

“Sometimes, but it's spilt milk now. I'm down here in the south and the last thing I heard, she was still in Newcastle and that was about thirty years ago. She was younger than me so she'll be in her late sixties. Hey up now. Quiet for a moment while we negotiate the lane,”

Lola fell silent and admired Barbara's skill on the slippery ice. When they reached the bottom she nodded.

“You're good with these conditions aren't you?”

“Well, not realy darling. I know where the water gathers and freezes on every bend so I make sure that the other wheels are on safer ground. I've rarely got less than two wheels grip and most of the time it's four. Don't forget, I've lived in the cottage for forty years now so I know the lane like the back of me hand.”

Soon the land-rover was in the garage and the pair were quickly enjoying the welcome heat after re-stocking the fridge and larder. As they settled for supper Lola asked more questions, mostly about conditions for transgendered people way back when. She was also intrigued that Barbara might actually have a child out there somewhere.

In the following weeks, Lola was enrolled in a new school and was elated that she was allowed to attend as a girl. She was further surprised to learn that Barbara was more than capable of helping her with several subjects like maths, physics, geography, english spanish and french. By the time the mock GCSE's came around Lola was surprised and elated to find herself feeling confident. She did unexpectedly well and Barbara suggested they take a holiday to Spain as a reward.

“I don't have a passport.”

“Well that's no problem, have you got your birthcertificate?”

“Uuuhm, no.”

“Well where were you born.”

“I don't know.”
Barbara's jaw sagged.

“What! You must know where you were born.”

Lola wagged her head despondently.

“All I know is that my mother gave me up for adoption a month after I was born, fifteen years ago.”

For a moment Barbara found herself at a loss then realised that the social services would have some record. Within minutes, she was on the phone.

“Yes. The kid needs a passport. We're going to Spain in the summer.”

After some decision-making at the social services end the essential information was provided. Lola had been born in York and her original namewas provided. As Lola had already explained, there was no father registered but when Barbara received the information she was mildly surprised to see that Lola's family name was the same as hers. This was no big coincidence because 'Smith' was still possibly the most common english name in Britain. More importantly, the information enabled Lola to go forward with a passport application.

The birth certificate duly arrived with the usual information about Lola's biological mother but of course, no father. Barbara was intrigued to find that Lola's mother was born in Hull and seemed to be of a similar age to the child that Barbara had fathered all those years ago. At the time she was preoccupied with spring-cleaning her cottage and thought little more of it. Lola's new passport duly arrived and preparations for the Spanish holiday were soon completed. In April they were touring Spain.

When they returned, Lola was plunged straight into the intense revision for her main GCSC exams. During those months the care order arrived from social services to accompany Barbara's CRB check. The social worked who had met her at the police station brought both the documents personally to Barbara's cottage. Barbara half suspected the social were making a second check on the living arrangements to double check that nothing untoward was going on. For the life of her, Barbara could not understand why they might have considered there to be some sort of relationship going on between a septugenarian and a sixteen-year-old girl. It galled her to think that thesocial might have some reservations because both old woman and young girl were transsexuals.

The main outcome of the ratified care order was that Barbara could now act together with social services with a view to helping Lola advance her case for transition. After Barbara had safely stored away the new CRB certficate plus the care order, she invited the social worker to share a pot of tea and some biscuits in the high-walled private rear garden.

“You've got a lovely cottage here”, the social worker observed. “such a beautifull setting, and so peaceful.”

“Not for long,” Barbara enlightened her. “In another hour there'll be enough water with the tide for the river lock to work and I can see several boats ready to arrive and depart. Lola should be home from school by then and she often likes to offer a hand because many of the boat owners will toss her a couple of quid if she takes the ropes and offers advice. She's learned a lot about the tides and the river lock this spring.”
They then chatted at length about Lola's progress until Barbara checked her watch and advised the social worker.

“If you want to chat to her, and I'm sure you will. She'll be getting off the school bus at the top of the lane. You can chat to her in the car.”

The social worker smiled.

“That's a good idea and very tactful of you to offer me the chance to have a genuinly private chat. I'll bring her down the lane once we've chatted. It'll give her the chance to ask me any questions. Can you think of anything that's bothering her?”

“She's a bit worried about the social creating impediments to her transition. She's sixteen now and we've arranged for her first appointment with her new GP who is also my GP and whom I know to be sympathetic toward transgendered people.”

“Why should she be worried about us?”

“Most kids in care grow up having issues, often caused by just a single bad experience with one bad social worker or carer – or both. It takes a damned good carer and team of social workers to resolve those issues.”

“Are you a good carer?” The social worker grinned.

“Well, I've got the ace of trumps in my hand, I'm like her – a transsexual. She knows she cant trust me on that score.”

“Yes, it's a good start. What time is Lola's bus due?”

“About ten minutes, give or take. If you want to meet her you'd best go now.”

She finished up her tea and biscuits and Barbara watched as she drove up the lane. Next Barbara went to check the tide height and raised the green 'permission ball' The departing boats slowly made themselves ready and were approaching the lock by the time the social worker retunred with Lola. The girl got out, gave Barbara a quick kiss and changed into jeans and trainers to go and assist the boats. Her help ensured that boat owners didn't heve to clamber up and down muddy ladders in the tidal outer basin so her help was always appreciated. The social worker stood with Barbara watching Lola chatting happily to the bargee's.

“She's really happy here.”

“I like to think so,” Barbara agreed then asked. “Tell me, d'you have any objections to her going into bristol alone, she's sixteen now. Not clubbing of course, but cinema and stuff.”

“None at all. Will you be taking her in?”

“No but I'll be picking her up. She's got new friends at the school and she wants to go with them on Saturdays. I think a couple of the kids might be gay from the way Lola describes them. She's hoping to wear girls uniform when she goes to year twelve next September.”

“Yes, we discussed that in the car. We fully support her in that and you'll be pleased to know that we can assist financially with her transition costs. It won't cost her a penny.”

“What, you mean the surgical funding?” Barbara gasped slightly.”

“Yes, it means the local health board won't have to find the funding so there'll be no delays owed to financial issues.”

“Well that's fantastic news. Without sounding too cynical, might I ask how that works and why. In my day, funding was always an issue.”

“Well, now I've been able to give Lola the news – which I did just now in the car – I can tell you as well. Now she's living with you and says she's very happy, we like to think of Lola as a success story. She's a much happier kid than when she first came to us. Frankly, and please don't condemn us for this; Lola is deemed to be a worthwhile case. She is doing very well academically after only a few months in your care. We see her as a success. And we don't see many of those. Truth to tell, you have been a revelation to us and we would like to ask if you'd help with another gay kid.”

Barbara fell into a thoughtfull silence.

“You realise I'm in my seventies. I'm not as fit as some.”

“The kid isn't a problem child, she's a lesbian and finding a good foster home is proving difficult. She's just turned thirteen and she's black.”

“Is she badly behaved, you know, aggressive or violent?”

“Not that we know of. We have tried putting her with parents of her own race but the lesbianism thing doesn't seem to work. Currently, she's in London and the care workers are afraid she'll end up in a gang culture. She's run away several times so there are problems.”

Barbara was stuck; unsure what to say beyond reminding the social worker that she had no specialist training and no experience with younger kids. She then added.

“I'd have to run it by Lola as well, it would be unfair to just dump this on her.”

“There are a lot of hoops to jump through before anything concrete is set. The kid would have to check you out as well. I'll let you know if anything developes. Can I just say goodbye to Lola before I go.”

Barbara nodded towards the river lock where Lola was obviously enjoying some banter with a young couple on their holiday narrowboat. The social worker picked her way along the towpath to join Lola and they chatted briefly. Barbara was pleased to see that the two parted with shared smiles before the social worker returned made her goodbyes with Barbara and drove off up the lane.

PS.
To any readers who have stuck with this short story so far;

Firstly I have not finished with 'Heir to a title' but this story just came to me and it's grown in to possibly a two part 'solo'

Beverly.