Drew Goes South Chapter 10 by Angharad Copyright© 2022 Angharad

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(title picture Andrea Piacquadio)

As the girls emerged from the school, Geoff Bugler watched them with interest. They were good lookers alright, but Gaby, if anything the slightly shorter one, had plenty of balls. She wins a bike race, collapsing with the effort, then clocks a great lummox of a bully because he thumped her boyfriend. He stood transfixed by the events, watching her right hand make contact with the boy's nose. She didn't half clobber him one. In fact, when the prizes were presented, Cheeseman gave her a wide berth. “If only I was twenty years younger," thought Geoff to himself, “What spirit!”

Young Palmer was sat waiting for his goddess to reappear, sporting a second bruise on his face, his whole being lit up when the girls appeared. He regarded the object of his affections, 'She is such a babe. I am so lucky. I can't think of any girl I know who'd pitch in like that against Cheeseman. He must be twice her size.'

All the teens walked back to the car and Bugler senior who was waiting for them alongside Aunt Carol. “Ah here comes our little Amazon,” said Geoff.

“Amazon, no I don't buy books online, I prefer to get them from shops where I can see them first,” retorted Gaby.

“I think Geoff was referring to the mythical warrior females of Greek legend, rather than the bookshop,” chirped Carol.

“ Exactement,” replied Geoff pretentiously.

“Wha….” added Gaby, somewhat missing the point, and rubbing her right hand which still hurt a little.

“I'm just agreeing with your Aunt Carol, Gaby, but in French, precisement, parfaitement, au juste.”

“Don't take any notice of him Gabs, he has these turns when he thinks he can speak French, but when he helps me with my homework, it's always wrong.” William Bugler had just pricked his father's balloon.

“It's not my fault if that stupid teacher of yours doesn't know what she's doing.”

“Dad, she is French, it's her native language.”

“I rest my case, we all know what the French are like all garlic and Gaulloises .”

“Eh?” said Gaby.

“A rather smelly French cigarette,” said Geoff, now well upon his high horse.

“Shall we see if we can find some lunch?” interrupted Carol, changing the subject. At this there was unanimous approval from the teens, so Geoff was forced to dismount his steed and follow the consensus. They set off for a pub he knew, and half an hour later were tucking into an assortment of hot snacks. Gaby settled for a lasagne, while Maddy had a cheesy jacket potato. As if reading Maddy's mind, Drew ate more slowly than usual, though he wasn't sure why. He had long since come to the conclusion, ‘whatever he did was wrong in some shape or form because Mad was a perfectionist.'

He also knew he was under very close scrutiny from his would-be boyfriend, and while he didn't encourage the attention, he knew that discovery of his real status would be catastrophic for all concerned. In fact, it didn't bear thinking about, so keep things simple and watch what Maddy does.

“How's your hand?” Maddy asked Drew.

“A bit tender,” replied Drew, stretching out his hand with its pink nails. A small amount of bruising was visible around the knuckles, but it almost needed a microscope to view it.

“That was so like a brave thing to do,” said Harry swelling with pride.

“Foolhardy, if you ask me,” said Carol flatly, “I'm sure Jenny didn't bring you up to fight with boys, young lady.” Given the reality of the situation, this was a preposterous thing to say, but Carol felt she had to fire a shot across Drew's bows to prevent Gaby from becoming too much of a ‘ladette', a category of girl who she considered to be beyond the pale.

“Want me to kiss it better?” offered Harry gently examining the damaged paw.

“Ugh!” squealed Gaby, withdrawing the hand before it could be kissed, bringing about a titter of laughter from everyone except Harry.

“Hard luck, son. Nice try,” laughed Geoff at the teenager's embarrassment.

After eating they went walkabout in Wimborne, exploring the ancient market town in particular the church or minster, which gives the town its proper name of Wimborne Minster, to distinguish it from Wimborne St Giles. The minster part of the name meant the church was part of a monastery or nunnery, in this case, the latter. Wimborne coming from the Old English for a meadow stream, the original name of the river, which has since been superseded by its current name the River Allen. Wimborne is mentioned in the Domesday Book 1086 and the ninth century Anglo Saxon Chronicle. so has piles of history like so much of Dorset.

After exploring the town, they set off to Badbury Rings, an Iron Age hillfort in the care of the National Trust. Smaller than Maiden Castle, its ramparts are less well defined and have scrub and small trees growing in the centre.

Local legend has it that the site is associated with the Arthurian legends and the battle of Mons Badon. Historians suggest that this is simply a similarity of name and although old enough, any association is purely fanciful. Similarly, are tales of ghostly Roman legions marching there, although the old Roman road does pass quite close to the hillfort.

Perhaps any ghostly Romans would be those from the Legio XX, that was based near Wimborne and who under the crisis of AD61 during the Boudiccan uprising, did not go to the aid of Colchester. The Roman city was sacked and the residents slaughtered. The reasons given for the inaction of the Legion were being only half strength, its commander decided they would just be slaughtered too. So he is reputed to have ignored the pleas for help. Sadly, he was ordered to ‘fall on his sword,' and the legion was disbanded in disgrace, their standards being destroyed by order of the emperor.

After scrambling about here, they set off for Kingston Lacy House but taking a vote on it, they decided they'd had enough history for the day and set off back towards home. Carol was disappointed but recognised that they didn't have enough time to do the house justice and entrance fees are not cheap. Besides, she'd have time to sort one or two things and Gaby, who was anxious about her new bike, wanted to get home.

They said goodbye to the boys and their chauffer at about four o clock. The sun which had been growing hazier was now hidden by darkening clouds and drops of rain were starting to fall. The bike was as promised, behind the garage. Whereupon Gaby opened said building and placed the new acquisition inside watched by Maddy.

“What do you want to do this evening?” asked Maddy, “Gonna read your book?”

“Nah, I mean half of it's written in italics and is about sex all the time. Like she uses the ‘F' word too much.”

Maddy nearly fell over, this was a boy complaining about the use of the ‘F' word! Was the Drew she knew and loved really being subsumed by Gaby? Was Gaby the dominant personality? At the same time, she had to admit it wasn't a word that she could honestly recall being used by Drew or the rest of the gang. There were plenty in the school who did use it, boys and girls alike, but not their little gang nor did their parents, which was probably why. So Drew or Gaby might be old fashioned, but Maddy approved.

“Are you pleased with your new bike?” she asked changing the subject.

“Absolutely, it's the best prize yet. Five hundred quid's worth plus, and all the kit.”

“What about the new shirt, it's a bit naff in't it?”

“I don't know, I think it's quite smart to have my name on a shirt.”

“Your name?”

“You know what I mean.”

“Why did they have to make it so girly though? I think it's so, like OTT.”

“What, the pink glittery stuff? I s'pose it is, but I won didn't I?” smirked Gaby, wiping the new bike until it almost shone.

“Yeah, you won the race alright, and the boxing match afterwards,” Maddy sounded a little sarcastic.

“Do you think I was wrong to hit him, then?” asked a crestfallen Drew.

“Shall we say, it wasn't the wisest course of action, particularly, like for a girl?”

“Oh!” he stopped polishing and looked embarrassedly at the floor. “I thought it was okay to help if a friend is being bashed. I mean he was attempting to protect me from Gorgonzilla.” The embarrassment momentarily lifted as Drew felt pleased with his invention of a new nickname for his protagonist.

“You could have stepped between them without decking Cheeseman.”

“What and risked being hit myself? Come on Mad, I might be blonde but I'm not completely stupid. Can you see me stepping between two boys scrapping and just ask them to stop? I'm likely to be hit by both of them.”

“Gabs, it's different for girls. Boys won't usually hit us. Think back to when you used to be a boy, I know it's a long time but…” With that, she ran laughing from the garage with Gaby in hot pursuit.

“Now girls, a little bit of decorum, please,” shouted Carol, as the two teens came racing into the house and nearly knocked her over.

“Decorations, what are you on about Aunty Carol?” asked a puzzled Drew.

“Decorum Gaby, not decoration. You are both decorative enough, decorum is behaving in a more socially acceptable manner.”

“Eh?”

“Acting like young ladies not a couple of enraged heifers,” she paused for breath before continuing, “And you Madeleine Peters, ought to know much better.”

“Yes, Ma-ma,” quipped Maddy dropping a mock curtsey.

“That's enough of your cheek young lady, for that you can get the tea; and you,” she pointed at Drew, “young woman, can go and phone your dad to tell him how you got on.”

Maddy pouted and trudged off to the kitchen, while Drew recognising a close escape also did as he was told. “Hi, Dad it's Gaby”

“Hello so… kiddo, how d'you get on?”

“I won dad, I beat Cheesecake, and I get to keep the bike.”

“Well done, are you going to tell me about it?” For the next twenty minutes Drew relived his latest cycle win, encouraged on by his father's enthusiasm. “So this kid Cheeseman, thinks he's been beaten by a girl?”

“Yeah, cool innit?”

“As long as he never finds out the difference, if he does it could become a murder enquiry.”

“What do you mean, Dad?” Drew suddenly felt a bit anxious.

“Well, he's likely to kill you twice over, once for beating him and twice for conning him.”

“Three times.”

“Three? What do you mean three? What else have you done?”

“I punched him on the nose,” this was said in a very quiet voice.

“I'm sorry, Dre… Gaby, this line is playing up. It sounded like you said you hit him, punched him on the nose. What did you say, because I missed it.”

“I did punch him on the nose.”

“It's doing it again, sounds just like you said…”

“I did, Dad, I hit him.”

“You did what?”

Almost in tears now, a weak voice said, “ I had to, Dad he had just hit Harry, who was trying to defend me.”

“Drew, Gaby whoever you are, please start at the beginning.” He listened as Drew recounted the altercation at the end of the race. “Let me get this right. He hit your boyfriend Harry, so you hit him?”

“Yes, Dad, that's just what happened.”

At the other end, Dave Bond was trying to stay calm. What on earth is going on down there? He left as a boy, but is living as a girl, has a boyfriend who doesn't know and has raced and won as a girl. Well okay, that's happened before, and Drew does make a very passable, even pretty girl. The latter is not his fault, but misleading a boy by pretending to be his girlfriend, then hitting another boy because he's beating up your boyfriend. What is happening down there?

So Carol can't bring you back for another few days, okay, she is usually so sensible, so what is happening? Then you win a bike race and get to keep the bike and you've been invited to try out a prototype ladies' bike for a major American manufacturer in another race. Gee whiz, what is going on?

“You seem to have gone very quiet, Dad.”

“Sorry son, I was trying to take on board what you've just told me. One thing worries me,” Dave said, but was thinking, “About a dozen things worry me.”

“What's that, Dad?”

“I thought we had an understanding.”

“We do, Dad,” jumped in Drew.

“Let me finish.”

“Sorry, Dad.”

“I thought the arrangement was, if you are dressed as a girl, you act like one.”

“I did, Dad, I wore makeup and let Harry kiss me.” At this Dave began to wonder if it was worth making a double appointment with a psychiatrist, one for him too.

“You let him kiss you?”

“Only on the cheek, Dad.”

“Look, Gaby, if you really want to become a girl, I think we need to talk about it when you get home, and when your mother's here.”

“No, Dad, I don't. I don't want to be a real girl.”

'Is this denial? methinks the lady doth protest too much,' thought Dave to himself. “All I wanted to say was, for goodness sake, if you are pretending to be a girl act like one. Have a little decorum, for goodness sake.”

“That's what Aunty Carol said.”

“Well then, act upon it, and no more fighting. It isn't ladylike and if that boy is half as big as you said, it's tantamount to suicide anyway. So promise me, no more fisticuffs. While we're on about decorum, you be careful with leading the other boy on too. Just because you're in girl mode, doesn't mean you are one yet.” As he said this last word he realised its psychological implications, a Freudian slip.

Drew, however, seemed to miss it. “Okay, Dad. I only kissed him ‘cos he got a black eye defending Mum's and my honour.”

“Oh my God! I need to talk to Carol about this, ‘he kissed me, I kissed him, defending my honour'” Dave was practically having palpitations as these thoughts ran through his head. “Just be careful, and if your mother's honour is at stake, it's my job to defend it, not yours, especially in a bra and knickers.”

“Okay, Dad. So is it alright if I do this other race if we stay here another week?”

“I presume this means as Gaby?”

“Yes, Dad.”

“Alright, as long as Carol agrees, and that you conduct yourself as a young lady, not some fishwife. Remember, people think you are Jenny Bond's daughter, please act like it. She has a reputation as a lady: I want you to emulate it.”

“Yes, Dad.”

“Is that a promise?”

“Yes, Dad, I promise to act like a lady, like Mum.”

“Good girl. Do you want to speak to your sister?”

“Hi Jules,” the conversation went on for a few minutes about the race and winning a new bike and visiting Wimborne and Badbury. There was nothing about fights and kisses. When Dave related these items to Juliette later, her jaw dropped and she nearly wet herself.

“He's been kissing boys and having them kiss him, and got into a fight over a boy? Oh my goodness!” What she thought was something else, but she did promise to keep it to herself, a promise which would cause her more difficulty to keep than wondering whether she still had a brother and for how much longer.

However, she began to worry about her father when he said, “I hope he remembers he's Jenny Bond's daughter, we brought both of you up to act like young ladies. I hope he remembers that.” She watched him go muttering out to the garden to water his plants.

“Tea's ready, Gabs,” said a voice very close behind him. It startled him and he jumped and squeaked like a girl.

“Oh, Mad, you'll give me a heart attack one of these days.”

“That's okay, we did CPR remember?”

“That's not the point.”

“What were you thinking about?”

“Something my dad said.”

“What did he say?”

“He told me to remember I was Jenny Bond's daughter and to emulate her, you know, be a lady and all that stuff, decorum and whatever. But it was the way he said, ‘remember you're not a real girl yet'. I don't know what he meant. Was it a fraudulent slip?”

“A what?”

“You know that psychologist bloke in the eighteenth century.”

“Oh, you mean Freud?”

“That's him.”

“He died during the Second World War; we did him in Social science.”

“Yeah, so.”

“The Second World War was in the twentieth century.”

“Yeah, I know that clever clogs.”

“So he wasn't an eighteenth-century psychologist.”

“I know, I know.”

“But you said he was.”

“Did I? Oh, it must have been one of them slip things.”

“A Freudian slip?”

“That's the one.”

“I think it's showing, Missy,” Maddy pointed at Gaby's skirt hem.

Gaby looked as well, picking up the skirt to examine it more closely. There was nothing wrong with it of course, but by the time Gaby noticed, Maddy had long gone. She followed the giggles coming from the stairs. “I'll kill you, Maddy Peters.” Then remembering what Dave had said about decorum, “No I'll knit you to death.”

After tea, the ‘girls' played board games until the phone rang and they were all invited to go to the Buglers' house, it appeared William had put his digital photos on the computer and wanted to show them to all and sundry.

It was only a short walk to their house, and they got there at about eight o'clock. Of course, Harry was there, and having seen the photos, was excited to see Gaby's reaction. In fact, he was so excitable; it reminded Carol of a near neighbour who had a cocker spaniel who was equally excitable.

“The photos are fab, Gaby, especially the one of you crossing the line,” exclaimed the excitable Harry. Drew was always happy to see photos of races he won, and was anticipating them in a positive vein. Maddy was happy to look at pictures anytime and William was looking forward to showing off.

Carol went off with Mrs Bugler and they began to sample a number of homemade wines she had. To be fair, Joyce Bugler was a very competent home winemaker, and Carol was quite a competent wine drinker. They were going to have an enjoyable evening.

“This is the start of the race.” The picture showed lots of cyclists. “The favourite,” this was a picture of Don Smith streaking away. “The outsider,” a picture of Gaby showed her concentrating on avoiding other riders at the exit to the school. “The Cheesecake,” a picture of Gaby's protagonist. “Some mid-race pickies.” William showed some pictures of the crash.

“How did you get those?” asked Gaby, “I didn't see you there.”

“Dad rushed us to the top of the cliff because he thought that's where the action would be. He was right. There's you skirting around the fallers. A few of the others falling off and some managing to avoid them. Then we rushed back for the finish. I told the police I was taking pictures for the school magazine.”

They all laughed at this. “I just didn't say which school,” more laughter. Then we come to these,” he showed a long-distance shot of Gaby being pursued by the other two leaders. “Then this,” a picture of Gaby winning by a wheel from the runner up and Cheeseman in third. “Then this, an action photo,” a picture of Cheeseman hitting Harry; “and finally,” a photo of Gaby hitting Cheeseman.

“I didn't see you take those photos,” gasped Gaby.

“No, I didn't need flash as it was quite a bright morning,” William explained, “and my camera has quite a fast speed shutter.”

“Goodness, I hope no one else took one of me hitting Cheesecake.” Suddenly the consequences of past actions occurred to the teenager. “I mean if the cycling press get hold of it, I'll be in real trouble.”

“Why?” asked Harry.

“Because of my mother. It wouldn't look too brilliant would it, headlines like, ‘Jenny Bond's daughter photographed brawling after a race.' If the press didn't crucify me, Mum would. Did you see anyone else taking pictures?”

“Not really, but I wasn't watching anyone but you lot.”

“If there's nothing in ‘ The Echo' tomorrow surely it means you're safe?” asked Harry. “I mean it was sort of self-defence.”

“That's not the point. My mum is a celebrity and you know what the press is like with any scandal. Oh hell, what have I done?” groaned Gaby.

“I think you did what was right,” beamed Harry.

“Who cares what you think, it's what the press thinks that counts,” snapped Maddy picking up the tension from Gaby, and seeing the broader implications.

At this Harry's beaming smile crumbled quickly and turned to one of anguish. He sat silently with his arms tightly folded; the rebuttal was too much for him.

“Matt knew the journalist from the local paper so hopefully he'll be able to stop anything being printed.” Gaby was grasping at straws, knowing that any real investigation would reveal everything including the gender deception. What would Drew do then? Pretend to be transsexual. It had worked at the immigration at the airport, but that would take him deeper than he wanted to go. Playing Gaby was fun at times, pretending to want to be a girl would be much more dangerous, because sooner or later officialdom would get involved. What would it do to Drew's race career? Probably kill it off altogether before it really got started. Oh shit, shit, shit!

Maddy had some insight into what Gaby/Drew was thinking and grasped his hand and squeezed it. Neither of the boys saw the gesture; they were busy looking at the condemnatory evidence on the computer screen.

“I can always delete it,” offered William.

“Well, that might help. If it's gone no one can ask you to see it,” answered Maddy.

William clicked the computer mouse a couple of times. “It's gone.”

“Thank you,” a nearly tearful Gaby said, “I think I'd like to go home if you don't mind.”

When Carol was informed of the teens' decision to leave, she hurriedly gulped down the half-full glass of parsnip wine, a decision she was to regret walking home when her legs wanted to work in opposite directions. It took the girls half an hour to get her home, and another ten minutes to push her up the stairs.

Having settled Carol, the dynamic duo had time to discuss the issue of ‘that right hook.' “What am I going to do, Mad? If there are photos, I'm finished. I mean all this could come out.”

“We don't know it's going to. You didn't start the fighting.”

“That doesn't matter does it. If there are pictures of me fighting as a girl then it won't take them long to discover I'm not one.”

“Is anyone going to be that interested, and if they are so what. You're not actually doing anything illegal. You won the race full stop, not the fastest female. Tell ‘em you're changing sex, like at the airport.”

“That would cause even more publicity, 'Jenny Bond's son has sex change,' I can see the headlines now.” Drew sat with his head in his hands.

Maddy sat alongside him, rubbing his shoulder. “So that's it then is it?”

“What?” sniffed Drew.

“Without knowing there is anything to worry about, you've just committed yourself to a sex change and as you won't be able to face the world because of the disgrace, I suppose you'll be going into a nunnery,” with that, she burst into a fit of giggles which got louder and louder.

“What's so funny? I don't think it's very funny,” pouted the wunderkind.

“Nothing..” the giggle fit continued. “I just had this picture of you in a nun's habit riding a bike.”

“What? Me a nun on a bike? Don't be so ... (snort, giggle) ... you are crazy, Maddy Peters. Gi's a hug.”