With Roxy undergoing some expensive repairs and updates, I took the opportunity to complete the remaining five canvasses for my forthcoming show. For the first few days, Melody seemed at a loss for something to do. Her fidgeting began to get under my skin so I suggested that she went into Oxford on the bus and did some people watching.
Once I'd explained to her what I meant she began to understand how just looking at other women, how they walked, how they moved and the rest could help her adapt to life as a woman.
I knew from my own experiences that while you can look like a woman in the way you dress, do your hair and make-up, moving like a woman is not natural to most men. It is very easy to overdo it and end up mincing your way down the street which won't fool anyone.
I make sure that I got her to talk about her day and what she'd observed each evening. It was a lot more interesting than my day. Completing five quite different canvasses to the standard I wanted was not proving to be easy so the distraction from my problems was more than welcome.
What I had to do was pretty easy but it was boring. The last 10% of the work on a piece is always the hardest because you have to know when to stop.
I gave Melody a good allowance so that she could afford coffee, lunch and to be able to buy some clothes of her own on her own. To her credit, she itemised everything she had spent. I praised her attempt at budgeting.
I made a few visits to the Boatyard to review progress and to approve some minor changes to the work. It made for a good break from the fine detail of my work.
Our brief sojourn in Oxfordshire coincided with some pretty wet weather. Melody was glad that the coat that we'd bought for her that first day was not only warm but waterproof. She managed to get her old DM's repaired as well as buying some new shoes. Thankfully, she ran out of money otherwise I'm sure that she would have spent it all or most of it on shoes.
I admired her in some respects. I only possessed five pairs of shoes. That didn't include the four pairs of wellies and deck shoes that remained on Roxy. Living on a narrow boat limited your opportunities for wearing dressy shoes. Yes, you can wear good clothes but having to walk home along a towpath quickly ruins good shoes and is positively dangerous in heels.
One day, Melody came back from Oxford looking as if the cat had got all of the milk and the cream as well.
"Ok Melody, who is he then?" I asked trying to tease her a little bit.
"No one. Besides, I'm not into men."
That was good to know but I'd guessed that.
"Ok, who is she then?"
Melody looked at me and shook her head.
"You aren't my Mum you know?"
"I'm the next best thing. More like an older sister."
"Pah."
She hung up her coat in the boot room to dry and ignored me. I wasn't going anywhere so I knew that I'd get it out of her sooner or later.
Melody disappeared upstairs gripping her new phone as if it was the crown jewels. We'd only bought it a few days before. I say new but it wasn't. It was last year's model and not a top spec one at that but she appeared to be slightly indifferent towards it at first. Now? It was more like, 'you are not getting this from me ever!'. That told me that she'd met someone in Oxford. That made me happy. It also made me realise that I didn't have anyone special in my life other than being a big sister or mentor to Melody.
I carried on making our evening meal knowing that I'd have to deal with that at some point but not until I'd dealt with my Father and Brother. Only a week until the 'gunfight at the family corral' as I was calling it.
My thoughts went back to the report I'd had from my Accountant, Matt Morris. I was due to visit him and get my accounts signed off. I'd also had him watching the dealings of my dear younger brother David. He was one of those infuriating people who could shift the blame for their wrong doing onto someone else even if that person was not present at the time of the disaster. He'd done that to me many times. The last time was when he'd crashed Dad's brand new BMW 5 Series only two days after it was delivered. I was away doing my 'A' Level exams yet it still became my fault for his wrongdoing.
I knew that David was robbing the family business blind and had been doing so for years but could never prove it. That was part of my reason for declaring on umpteen occasions that I wanted nothing to do with the business. If I had no access to the accounts or anything it would be hard to make me the evil one when it all came to light.
The email I'd received from Matt earlier that day was quite troubling. It seemed that I was now Managing Director of three of the family businesses. I'd spent a good part of the afternoon on a call with Matt and Evan discussing what should happen.
We'd agreed on a plan where I'd make what lawyers call a deposition rebutting the declaration that I'd allegedly made when putting my signature to the directorship documents. They were complete fabrication but somehow I had to prove that I didn't really sign the documents.
The one fact that would save me was that all of the documents were signed in my old name and dated after I'd changed my name. My dear brother may well be unaware that I'd done that and that I was now living as a woman full time. On the other hand, I wouldn't put it past him to have been spying on me. He'd done it before. Somehow, he tracked me down about six months after I'd returned from Australia and demanded half the proceeds from my prospecting. I responded by pushing him into the Leeds and Liverpool Canal near Bingley. He wanted the money or he'd report me into the Inland Revenue. I'd already paid the taxes on the gold in Australia and due to the reciprocal arrangement between our two countries, I was good to go. Matt had sorted that out with the HMRC before David came looking for a handout.
Once again, it became my fault for not sharing my new found wealth with the family. I told him and my father what they could do with that idea. It had never come up again.
My daydreaming was ended when Melody came bounding down the stairs looking for something to eat.
As we are the meal, I said.
"I have to go away for two days. I need to visit my accountant in Derbyshire. Something has come up that needs my immediate attention."
"Can I help?"
I chuckled.
"Not unless you have a time machine that can take me back to when I was five so that I can strangle my brother then you can't."
Melody knew something of the issues I'd had with my brother over the years.
"That bad eh?"
"Yeah. I need to get it sorted before next weekend and the family gathering."
Melody didn't reply so I added,
"That means you will be here alone. You don't need me to tell you that we are guests in this house and … well no rowdy parties."
Melody laughed.
"Don't worry. That just isn't my scene."
"Good. That does not stop you from inviting your new girlfriend over."
Melody was about to put some food into her mouth.
"Who says that I have a girlfriend?"
I sighed.
"Melody… Everything about your whole body tells me that you do. Don't try to hide it. I'm pleased for you."
She didn't respond right away. I just carried on eating.
"Her name is Heidi. She's an American of Austrian descent. She'd studying International Law and works part-time at the coffee shop that I go to."
"Good. How did you get talking?"
"They get a lot of students in their as you can imagine. They are from all over the world. One day last week, I was in there and the person who was sitting at the table before me left a newspaper. It was a Portuguese language paper from Lisbon. I started reading it just for something to do to keep me out of the rain."
I almost interrupted but thought better of it.
"She came over to clear the table. She asked if I could let her have the paper when I was done with it. I asked her if she could speak Portuguese. She told me that she was going to Brazil as part of her work experience year in June and that she'd been trying to learn some of the language from reading the paper."
"And you volunteered to teach her I suppose?"
Melody shook her head.
"Not at first. She asked me what I was reading and where. She assumed that I was a student. When I told her that I wasn't she got a lot more interested. I guess doing that job, she gets hit upon a lot by other students. Anyway, I returned later that day in her lunch hour and we chatted and before we knew it, she had to go to a late class. We have been talking and… and everything ever since."
Melody read my mind.
"And before you ask, yes, she knows about me. I told her the next day. I fully expected her to tell me to fuck off but she didn't."
"Then invite her for Sunday Lunch."
"Sort of meet the parents thing?"
"No such sort of thing. I want you to be happy. If you decide to stay here and… well, you know what then great but I'd like to meet this wonderful girl who has swept you off your feet."
I decided to change the subject so that Melody could think about my offer.
"As I said, I have to go away tomorrow. I'm meeting Evan at Oxford Station early. I've booked a taxi to take me there for seven-fifteen. If you want a lift into the city then, you are more than welcome to come along."
"Sounds serious if you are meeting you accountant with your lawyer?"
"It has the potential to become that so we need to act sooner rather than later. We'll meet my Accountant in Derby and Evan will take some documents to London tomorrow afternoon."
"But… that means that you will be back tomorrow night?"
I shook my head.
"I have to work on my annual accounts and then make some payments to the HMRC. With those all sent for the audit, I can relax. I'm taking that canvas I've been working on with me."
"That's a different landscape to what you normally paint. Where is it?"
"It is where Matt grew up. It is a place called 'Millers Dale' and is between Matlock and Buxton in the Peak District."
"But that is a historical landscape? We don't have steam trains any more do we?"
I chuckled.
"More than you might realise. No, the picture is for his Grandfather who worked on the railway at Millers Dale until the line closed. It is his Grandfather's 80th birthday in a few weeks."
"Ah, I get you."
"And it saves me paying my Accountant this year."
Melody laughed.
"Time for me to do the washing up I suppose?"
This time, I laughed.
"You'll make a wonderful wife to a good woman someday."
Melody just smiled and began to clear the dishes.
I really didn't want to get out of bed the following morning. I'd gone to bed with the best intentions of getting a good night's sleep when I realised that I'd messed up a bit of the picture. It took me four hours to correct the problem so it was close to 02:00 when I finally climbed into bed.
Before, I could just get washed, throw on some clothes and be ready to go out. Not any more. Thankfully, I'd had my beard as it was lasered off over the winter but I still had to do my hair and makeup. I debated putting on some eye-liner but decided that a heavier than normal application of mascara would have to do. Even with that, I was only just ready when the taxi arrived. There was no sound of Melody getting up so I left her to sleep and headed off into the dawn. The approach of spring and the lengthening days made me feel a bit guilty for not being out with my sketchpad in the early mornings. The soft light of dawn was ideal for capturing the feel of a place but that would have to wait for a few weeks.
Evan's train was on time. He'd texted me what seats we had for the journey to Birmingham where we'd change for Derby. I had just enough time to get a coffee from the vendor at the station before it was time for the train.
Most of the people who were waiting for trains seemed to be heading for London so our train wasn't all that busy. I found Evan and plonked myself down in the seat opposite him.
"You look awful," were his opening words.
"Gee thanks, Evan. You try working until nearly two and being at your best at this time the next day?"
Before he had a chance to answer,
"Let me have some caffeine and then I'll go and see about my face."
Evan just raised his eyebrow. He was cool.
Matt was waiting for us outside the Station in Derby.
"I have booked an office for the day. It is only half a mile away and has parking," he said as Even and I piled into his car.
Twenty minutes later, we got down to business. Matt showed me the records from Companies House.
They were perfectly clear in that my full name was listed as the new MD of the companies. My address that of my old home so there was no possibility of someone else with my name. It was clear to me that I was being set up.
"What game is he playing at?" I asked.
"Preparing you for a fall is my guess," said Matt.
"A source of mine inside the HMRC tell me that David is under investigation. VAT fraud, tax evasion and the like. As you requested, I hired a P.I. to investigate him last year. You had his report last easter. The same P.I. did a follow up last week. David it seems has acquired a mistress. He keeps her in an apartment in Manchester. The rent alone is close on two grand a week. Then there is a new business unit near Rochdale. The P.I. is still looking into what he's doing there but it does not seem related to any of his current business operations."
I took a minute or so to let that sink in before replying.
"From what you have said, my father is totally out of the loop on what David is doing?"
"As far as we can ascertain, that is correct."
"Then we need to as they say in so many westerns, 'cut him off at the pass'. Do you have the documents I need to sign?"
Evan took some sheets of paper out of his briefcase.
"These are the formal notices to Companies House that you are not the person named on their records. I have also attached copies of your change of name plus copies of your new passport and driving license."
I read the notices and signed the bottom. Matt and Evan signed them as well. Even was a Notary so he added his seal to the bottom.
"What's next?" I asked as Evan collected them up and put them in his briefcase.
"I'd love to be a fly on the wall when you expose David to your father on Easter Sunday," said Matt.
I chuckled.
"David will have his excuses ready. Of that I am sure and they will be believable which makes them worse and even more dangerous."
Both of them looked rather anxious.
I smiled and said,
"Don't worry. I'm used to their behaviour. They will be wrongfooted when they see me in a dress and wearing makeup. I'll let them slightly recover from that when I drop this report in Daddy's lap."
Then I added,
"Then I'll walk out with my head held high. Then they can go fuck themselves for all I'm concerned."
Evan smiled.
"That's pretty final isn't it?"
"It has to be. I'm going to live my life as I see fit. Both of you know that it has been my aim for how long now?"
I didn't let them answer.
"Don't answer that but both of you have known since we were at school what I wanted in life."
Matt laughed.
"All that is missing is a good woman."
"Ok, ok, don't rub it in."
Even collected up his things and headed for the door. Then he stopped and turned around.
"Could I take a peek at this new masterpiece from our Savannah?"
The painting for Matt's grandfather was still wrapped up.
"I'm dying to see what you have done," said Matt.
"Oh, very well. I was up until nearly two this morning working on it," I said as I started to unwrap it.
"That's beautiful," said Evan.
Matt's face told me that he was impressed.
"You did that from some old photos?" asked Matt.
"Not quite. I did some research and found a couple of books that detailed how Miller's Dale looked in 1952. There is a fantastic bookshop in Alnwick that has thousands of railway books for sale. I ordered them and with the photos, I took last Autumn, I was able to create this."
"Grandad will love it," exclaimed Matt.
"It is brilliant. You have excelled yourself here. If you get tired of landscapes then perhaps this is the next genre to concentrate on?"
I laughed.
"I'd better get going. I have a train to catch if I am to deliver these to Companies House today," said Evan.
Once Evan had left, I asked Matt,
"Do you really like my picture?"
"Savannah, it is perfect for Granddad. Are you having doubts?"
"No… Well, yes. It is a big departure for me from my normal work."
Matt took my hand. I almost withdrew it but I stopped myself just in time.
"You are good at this and don't let anyone tell you otherwise."
"You keep saying that."
"It is perfectly true and I think that deep down you know it."
"Thanks, Matt. You don't know how good it is to hear those words."
[to be continued]
Comments
Walking Like A Woman
I've been doing serious research into why it is so difficult for me to do the Runway Walk. I've seen male Runway Models doing it but they never look as good as a Genetic Woman. I found out that it has to do with the design of the Hip Joint and Pelvis. Were I younger, perhaps I might get close, but not at my age. The best I can do is to take shorter steps and walk with my feet more inline.
Privilege is oft wasted on the privileged.
As the hard-earned [presumably] family riches evaporate and Savannah girdles her defences against her brother’s indulgences, my spirits are uplifted at the thought of Roxy being pampered in the boat yard. It’s like going to the spa.
While mortified at having her undersides exposed, I’m sure she welcomes the new bottom coat, her systems attentively pampered, topsides buffed and all those manifestations of age and service, cared for.
Who doesn’t like going to the spa?
You Can't Choose Your Family
And nobody says they all have to be good, kind and loving.
Good luck, Savannah, in seeing off your arsehole brother.
Grrrrrr!
One of the greatest talents of a writer is to leave their readers always wanting more. Whether it is a serial or a completed novel, a desire for "more of the story" is there. It brings readers back again and again to purchase the next book even if it isn't part of a continued series.
Samantha is among several of those talented writers on BCTS. Again and again I am so impressed with the talent of those who post their stories here. Each one would be a Best Seller if they could get any traction in the cutthroat world of publishing. Us readers are fortunate and blessed to find and read some of the best writing in the world inviting us into a world we see through anther's eyes and imagination.
Hugs Sam
Barb
Life is a gift, treasure it until it's time to return it. Don't waste it.
Oklahoma born and raised cowgirl
Of course
Of course you would get your research spot on. I love this story. It has a bit of the forgetful narrator part as well as compelling characters and outstanding dialog. Thanks for sharing with us.
As always I'm looking forward to your next segment.
Your friend
Crash
I hope that the rest of my tale
lives up to the expectations I seem to have set.
I did enjoy writing this tale. I guess part of my inner 'wanderlust' comes out. I can't wait for the summer and am hoping that my two trips to Scandinavia actually happen. They were postponed from 2020.
If not then I'm probably going to head for Scotland.
Thanks again for the comments,
Samantha
Miller's Dale
I know it very well. My first visit was when I arrived by steam train back in the early 1950s with the rest of my scout troupe for a summer camp nearby. The most remarkable thing was the size of the station for such a tiny village - more like a hamlet, really. It's a lovely area and the line is now a cycle/pedestrian track, one I originally surveyed by bike for Sustrans, the charity which did the conversion. That was a long time ago, too.
I'm enjoying this tale as much for the background as the story itself. The next episode will be interesting and I'm anticipating a bit of excitement when the ordure comes into conflict with air mover :).
thanks
R
Millers Dale
I passed through Millers Dale around 1963 on the Thames-Clyde Express. We travelled all the way to Glasgow on it before going to Tarbert for a holiday. It is hard to imagine just how busy it was 60 years ago with all the coal traffic. We were hauled by D200. Yes, I was a gricer back then.
I'm glad that you are enjoying my story.
Samantha
Another Great chapter!
Samantha, Thank you for another great chapter to a terrific story. I do not know how you find the time to write these stories but am grateful that you do.
Before
Sustrans got the old tunnels re-opened for the cycle track, our club runs often used the bridleway alongside the river through to Cressbrook, the site of one of the earliest and most remote textile mills built by Arkwright himself in the late 1700's. We were a hardy bunch from Sheffield and were not put off one winter afternoon to find the path under about a foot of river - i can tell you, it was a slightly fraught experience as you couldn't see any variance from path to river under the swirling waters!
By road, from Millers Dale all roads lead up, one reason that the Monsal trail is so popular for cyclists! Yep, until my move south, Millers Dale and surroundings were regular on my rides.
National Rail recently had to spend a substantial amount of money on one of the twin viaducts that crosses the valley to the station, the ironwork was in need of some remedial work and NR apparently still own the trackbed!
Where else, one wonders, will our painter immortalise?
Madeline Anafrid Bell
David doesn't know it yet,
but he is in big trouble.
Painting from memory
My grandfather in retirement established himself as a historical painter of our town’s history in Mamaroneck, NY. He used old black and white photos from 1910 through 1930 as inspiration to bring local fisherman, hardware stores and stables and former slaves to life again. It was so easy to fall into his paintings, as if they were, “just around the corner”, so to speak. It was even stranger to walk up to the buildings after absorbing the details of the painting. Magic. Even stranger when you thought you recognized a face.
Painting from memory
My grandfather in retirement established himself as a historical painter of our town’s history in Mamaroneck, NY. He used old black and white photos from 1910 through 1930 as inspiration to bring local fisherman, hardware stores and stables and former slaves to life again. It was so easy to fall into his paintings, as if they were, “just around the corner”, so to speak. It was even stranger to walk up to the buildings after absorbing the details of the painting. Magic. Even stranger when you thought you recognized a face.