Drew Goes South Chapter 12 by Angharad Copyright© 2022 Angharad

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(title picture Andrea Piacquadio)

The boys returned about twenty minutes later, by which time Maddy had calmed Gaby down and also tidied up her face for the second time. She had used one of her hugs to make things better and her cousin seemed much easier.

Maddy had little doubt that Drew's fear of turning into a girl was unreal; despite his apparent ability to mimic her or other girls, it was mimicry and not the real thing. Or at least she was pretty sure that was all it was; it was simply now and again something happened which challenged her assumptions, yet there was rarely anything to get hold of, to notice any pattern developing. The main one had been the primping while getting ready to go out somewhere.

The performance in front of the mirror, especially when he didn't think anyone was looking; was really very feminine; possibly even female. Then, once or twice she had seen Drew examining himself in the mirror when naked or wearing very little, perhaps only lingerie; experimenting with poses and looking like a very sexy girl. What she wasn't sure about, was why he was doing it. If it was for the same reason she did it, then her assumption was wrong and he could have a strong female side. If that was so, then she was much less certain of what the future held for him or both of them.

It seemed incredible that the legs which could win gruelling bike races looked so good in a skirt. His knees were smooth, not knobbly, he had wide hips and a bigger bum than most boys. His shoulders were relatively narrow and his voice hadn't broken. Then his pretty face; even when he was trying to be a boy he was often mistaken for a girl. In fact; they looked more like sisters than cousins, and twins at that. Maybe his future was less certain than she thought. All she knew was that she was very fond of him and no matter what he ultimately decided to do she would support him.

So, if his protests were misleading, and inside he really did feel he was a girl then, provided it was what he really wanted she would always be there to help him, or her.

“I got these for you, Gaby, and to say I'm really sorry.” Harry presented his peace offering to the seated Gaby. It consisted of a box of chocolates and some flowers he'd seen at a garage they'd passed.

Maddy and William watched the real-life soap opera unfolding before them. Gaby, looking very uncomfortable accepted the gifts with a degree of graciousness, that pleased Maddy giving her a lump in her throat.

“Thank you,” said a very quiet voice.

“Am I forgiven?” asked Harry, trying to keep up some form of eye contact, but he found it too difficult and looked at her knees instead.

“I s'pose so. Maybe I overreacted,” continued the quiet voice.

“No it was my fault, I should have asked you first. I got carried away. I'm sorry,” he was blushing like a tomato.

“It's okay, just don't do it again.”

“Are we still friends?” he asked looking still at her knees.

“I s'pose so.”

“Thank you,” He said, then nearly blew it by adding, “you have very pretty knees.”

At that point, William intervened and said, “How about we eat these sandwiches before they go stale?” Maddy agreed and the tension was reduced.

They ate their lunch and wandered around the inner harbour; admiring the variety of boats moored there. Some are small obviously designed for pottering about just offshore, whilst others were large multi-berth things with prices defined as multiples of millions of pounds.

If you walk across the footbridge at the top end of the harbour, you can see the sluices which empty from Radipole lake, and usually, there are fish there. Depth of water determines what might be about; low tide tends to show small schools of tiddlers, probably fry. In deeper water, one can often see small groups of mullet zipping about, looking for food.

The day Gaby and friends walked across the bridge; there was also the corpse of a dead pigeon, floating in the harbour. It is thought, the birds either try to land on the water after dark or, simply fall in off the bridge. Gaby tried not to look at the dead bird but she couldn't avoid it. It made her think for a moment about mortality. She didn't like the idea of people or things dying, but at the same time knew everything did. However, when one is thirteen it isn't something that is dwelt upon.

She walked on; Harry spotted some fish and they crowded around to watch the three or four mullet swimming around. It felt almost voyeuristic to Gaby; who had never heard the word, but felt a sense of pleasure in feeling, that she could see the fish, without them being able to see her. It probably wasn't true, as fish can often see from under the water, but ten or more feet above; they were no immediate danger.

After crossing the bridge; they went around by the edge of the lake to use the underpass. They paused to watch some small children with their grandparents; feeding a flock of ravenous ducks and a couple of swans. Gulls were gathering overhead, and once or twice stole the bread practically from the beaks of the slower ducks.

“I wish we'd brought some bread,” said Maddy, which Gaby echoed.

“I'll go and get some if you want. Only take a few minutes,” with that, Harry ran off with William in hot pursuit. The girls sat on a bench waiting for them to return.

As they sat, enjoying the antics of the excited toddlers and the frenzied fowl, Maddy was about to say something, when Gaby said. “Isn't that Gorgonzilla across the other side of the lake?” she nodded towards a figure who was walking rapidly but somehow shiftily, towards the Swannery car park.

“He looks as if he's up to no good,” suggested Maddy.

“Just what I was thinking,” chirped Gaby. The boy kept turning around as if to see that no one was watching or following him. A moment later, the boys came back puffing and panting after their run to the shop.

“Is that Cheeseman?” asked Maddy pointing to the boy.

“Yeah, looks like it,” sighed Harry, feeling his freshest bruise.

“What do you reckon he's up to?”

“How would I know. I'm only his punch bag,” said Harry.

“He looks suspicious. Let's follow him,” added Gaby.

“What for?” replied William.

“I think he's up to something, come on let's go.” Gaby led the group back over the bridge.

“What about this bread?” asked William.

“We'll eat later,” hissed Gaby, “Come on or we'll lose him.”

“This isn't an Enid Blyton story, Gabs, we're not the Famous Five you know,” panted Harry as they increased their pace.

“I may be a girl, but I can count,” quipped Gaby, as she began to speed up even faster.

“I didn't mean it like that., Harry sighed defensively.

“What did you mean then?” snapped back Gaby.

“You don't know he is up to anything, and even if he is, he is bigger than us and his friends are likely to be, too.”

“Are you chicken?”

“No, not at all,” panted Harry, “How do you know he's up to something?”

“Feminine intuition.” retorted Gaby, at which, Maddy chuckled quietly.

“What's that supposed to mean?” asked Harry.

“It means, stop whingeing and keep running.”

They burst into the car park just in time to see Cheeseman walk into the RSPB (Royal Society for the Protection of Birds) nature reserve.

“Why is he going in there?” asked Gaby, “It's not as if he's carrying a pair of binoculars or a telescope.”

“You can walk right around it, people jog or walk their dogs around it.”

“He's up to something. I just know it.” They followed at a discreet distance as he walked towards one of the hides.

“What're we going to do now?” asked Harry, “This path only leads to the hide, and there's nowhere for us to hide. It's a single track on boards over the marshy bit.”

“Reed beds,” corrected William.

“You lot can stay here, but I'm going to see what I can see,” with that, Gaby trotted on down the path; her trainers making very little noise as she moved.

“Well, we can't just let her go by herself,” said Maddy and flew off after her cousin.

“Oh hell!” puffed Harry and ran after Maddy, with Wiliam just behind him.

As luck would have it, they saw Cheeseman coming back out of the hide and Maddy spotted a tree with a small path leading to it. It was off-limits to visitors, but this was an emergency. She shot down the path followed by the boys, and they hid behind the willow tree until they saw Cheeseman walk past and away from them.

“Where's Gaby?” whispered Harry.

“There.” Pointed Maddy as she spotted our eponymous hero sneaking back from the front of the hide. They ran to join her.

“He went in here by himself, and I heard him lifting something, then there was some rustling like a plastic bag, some more scraping and then he left. I couldn't quite see where he was, but I reckon it won't take us too long to search the place.”

“Whaaaat?” asked Harry.

“Come on we're wasting time.” They followed Gaby into the hide. It was relatively dark. They also needed a lookout. William volunteered, and by standing at one of the side slits, he could see anyone approach. The rest began a search.

In the dark it wasn't easy, they tapped the side panels and looked at the floor. It all seemed solid. The basic wooden benches held no place to leave anything. Gaby stood and thought; where weren't they looking. Then she spotted it, a small niche where the roof beams met. There was a hint of a plastic bag. They pulled up one of the benches and Harry was able to just reach it. He stretched and pulled out the bag. He handed it to Gaby, who looked inside.

“Crikey, there must be two hundred pounds in here,” she quickly counted the money, “two hundred and fifty.”

“There's someone coming,” hissed William.

“Quick shove it back.”

“What?”

“Shove it back, it isn't ours. Hurry,” Instructed Gaby, and Harry did as she said.

They had just put the bench back when a couple of bird watchers entered. “Anything much about?” they asked.

“Dunno,” quipped Gaby cheekily, “I only came in for a sit-down.” The four teens left and walked briskly away from the hide. When they were a safe distance away, Gaby said, “Why would he leave two hundred and fifty quid in a hide in the middle of nowhere.”

“A collection point, like a dead letter drop,” beamed William.

“A dead what?” asked Maddy.

“In spy stories, a place where the spies leave stuff for each other.”

“Drugs?” asked Harry.

“That's what I was thinking,” Gaby concurred and Maddy nodded her agreement. “Let's go back and feed the ducks, and while we're doing it I'm going to phone that policeman.”

“You can't,” said Harry, "we have no proof he put it there, or for what reason.”

“That's for the police to decide,” replied Gaby.

“You can't phone the police,” said Maddy throwing the last of her bread to a group of coot who squabbled with each other over it.

“Why not?” asked Gaby in high dudgeon.

“Two reasons,” chirped Maddy, “You haven't got your phone with you, and the card with their number on, is back on the sideboard, in the cottage.”

“Oh bugger,” Gaby exclaimed, and the others laughed as the tension broke.

“Come on let's get back to Matt's shop, see this bike and get home.” It was unanimously agreed and half an hour later, they were at the shop.

“Hi kids,” greeted Matt, “Tim's just checking the bike over.”

“Mind if I watch?” asked Gaby, who loved everything bike, including the workshops where they were built, repaired and serviced.

“How's it going, Tim?” asked Gaby.

“Fine, give me another ten minutes.”

“Mind if I look around.”

“No, not at all. Just watch you don't get yourself dirty.”

“I'll be good,” quipped Gaby smiling broadly, thinking about her promise to her mum and what Tim would have said if he'd known he'd been dealing with a boy.

“There you go,” Tim declared pushing the bike to Gaby.

“Wow, isn't it light?” she observed, lifting it.

“Frame's less than a kilo; twenty-seven speed; S works Armadillo tyres. It's a lovely bike.”

“Can I try it?” she asked excitedly.

“Check with Matt first, but that's why it's here.”

“Matt, Matt, when can I try the demon machine?” Gaby charged into the shop where Matt was talking to a customer.

“Excuse me,” he said to the customer, “Take it up and down the road but stay in sight.” He then returned to charming his customer.

“Isn't that the girl who was in the paper?” asked the customer.

“Yep, and that's the bike she's riding.”

“Can we watch her?” asked the customer.

“Course we can,” they strode to the door. Matt was a bit irritated, he wanted to be out there watching Gaby put the bike through its paces. Instead, he should be wrapping up this sale and then watching the bike.

Gaby went whizzing past, then a couple of moments later flew past the other way. She pulled up at the shop, “It fair flies along,” she gasped, slightly out of breath.

“When will one of those be available?” asked the customer.

“Next year, sometime. They haven't given us dates yet, this is a pre-production model.”

“I want my daughter to have the best I can afford.”

“I'm sure you do, these are going to be about fifteen hundred. Are you sure you need such a high-performance model? Gaby here, won the Wimborne race on a lower spec similar bike, only a third of the cost.”

“I don't know,” said the customer scratching his chin. “What's the other bike like?”

“Gaby, can you show this gentleman your Dolce?”

“Sure Matt,” she said handing him the carbon bike. She disappeared into the shop; re-emerging a moment later with her own bike.

“Can you ride it up and down the road for me to see?” the customer asked.

She nodded and sped up and down the road a couple of times. She then pulled up in front of the shop. “Is it a good bike?” he asked of her.

“Yes, very good. If we didn't have the new one to test, I'd happily ride it on Sunday.”

“Perhaps you are right, Matt. Order me one of those. Thank you, young lady, good luck with your race.”

“Thank you,” replied Gaby.

Matt tied up the sale, thinking, 'I knew this association with Miss Bond is going to do well for the shop. When she really does flower, and becomes a champion, then we really could do well. Must keep in touch with her, and she's such a nice kid.' “Well, young lady, let's go give this bike a test,” said Matt as he collected his S Works Roubaix from the back of the shop.

“That's not the bike you had the other day,” said Gaby as he brought it out into the road.

“No, this is my race bike,” he smiled at her, thinking, ‘I might just stay with her on this.' Seeing the apprehensive look on her face he added, “Don't worry girl, we're not racing, are we? But if you do take off, I might need something to help stay with you.”

At this, she smiled, and, waiting for the others to come out of the shop with their bikes said, “Did you let me beat you the other morning?”

“No, you beat me fair and square,” he smiled as he said it. “You have great potential, young lady, the problem is it's bloody hard work to realise it.”

“I enjoy training,” she smiled back at him.

“I thought you might. Come on, slow coaches,” he called to the others.

“Can I use your bike, Gabs?” asked Maddy.

“Course,” she replied.

They set off in a westerly direction towards the village of Chickerell and then veered off towards Portland. This entailed a short pull up a hill, down for a short time, then a long pull up Lanehouse Rocks Road. The road is straight with quite a steep hill for between a quarter and half a mile. “We're going to Portland, kids. If you lose us, just follow the signs on the main road. Meet up at the Portland Heights Hotel,” called Matt, thinking, ‘Gaby and I will be on our way back before you get near there.' He was probably correct.

The boys knew their way around in any case, which meant Maddy had to ride to their pace, once it became clear Gaby and Matt were not waiting around. They struggled up Lanehouse Hill, Gaby and Matt powering their way up at twice the speed of the stragglers. Then a left and a right, around the roundabout, and they were on Portland Road, on the outskirts of Wyke Regis. Wyke is the other half of Weymouth, which is a combination of Wyke and Melcombe Regis. Two ancient boroughs, now only existent as suburbs and electoral wards for local councils.

The road from Wyke to Portland is downhill, all the way to Ferrybridge. The Isle of Portland is joined to Dorset courtesy of Chesil Beach or bank. It runs for nearly twenty miles along the west coast and is unique in the world.

In living memory, there was a ferry between the mainland and Portland at Ferrybridge. On the landward side of the Chesil, is a long lagoon called The Fleet, which empties into Portland Harbour at Ferrybridge. There was a railway connection which ended in the nineteen sixties, but only to the bottom of the island. Now there is a road across the causeway.

Portland is famous for several things. Mostly for its oolitic limestone which Wren used to rebuild London after the Great Fire. It has a long tradition of quarrying for this stone, and lots of superstitions are attached. The most bizarre was a hatred of rabbits. These were thought to cause rock falls with their burrows, and to see one was an omen of disaster. Quarrymen seeing a bunny on their way to work were said to prefer to go home and lose a day's pay than risk the accident they knew would happen.

Attached to the quarries were the prisons. Portland has three prisons, including a young offenders unit, and Weir a floating barge, moored in Portland Harbour. (Author's note This was written in 2005, HMP Weir is no longer there.)

The other reputation of Portland was for wrecking and smuggling, which continued up until the time a proper lighthouse was established at the Bill of Portland, and a coastguard station nearby.

Our two racers went down the hill towards Ferrybridge as fast as the cars, then flew across the causeway at quite a steady rate above twenty miles an hour. Gaby was pleased with the bike, it was faster than hers. Matt was pleased to see her ride, although he was finding it harder to stay with her than he would have ten years ago.

“Just follow the road up the hill, the hotel's on the top,” he called to her, after which she began to pull away.

After the causeway, the road begins to climb up from Chiswell, through Fortuneswell, past the turn off for Castle town. The latter was where the naval base used to be. As she climbed up the hill, through the narrow streets of Fortuneswell, she could see the sea through the gaps in the houses to her right.

At the bend in the road, she could see the monumental workings of the Napoleonic defences, which riddle the hillside above Castle town. There are several large tunnel systems hidden under the greenery, which once upon a time, would have been full of cannons and ordnance. In the last World War, they would have played host to more modern hardware, but equally lethal ‘welcoming committees'.

The original HMS Hood was sunk in the entrance to Portland Harbour to keep out U-boats. Off the Bill of Portland is a tidal race, where Francis Drake and the other English ships awaited the Spanish Armada. Portland has a long history of seafaring, although Gaby was unaware of it, concentrating upon the second stage of the hill, which winds sharply and steeply up towards the top.

As an experienced hill climber, she puffed and panted a bit, but kept going at a reasonable lick. At the top, she saw the hotel and waited for Matt, who arrived looking red-faced and weary and blowing hard.

“There's an amazing view from up here,” she said, Matt nodded in agreement unable to speak. He had two drinks carriers on his bike, he gave one to Gaby and took the other himself. They rested and drank for a few minutes, then set off back towards Weymouth.

The road on Portland is a one-way system, so they needed to hurry to catch the others before they started around it. They just made it, stopping them at the southern end of the causeway. They took their time heading back and stopped at the little snack bar and car park used by the windsurfers. Here, Matt treated them all to ice cream. A decision applauded by the teens.

“Need more time on the bike?” he asked Gaby.

“No I'll be fine, but a drink holder would be good. If I spend much more time with it, you'll have to shoot me to get it back.”

“I take it, that you like it?” teased Matt.

“No it's a load of rubbish, but I'll give you a tenner for it, just to take it off your hands.”

They both laughed, attracting the attention of the others in the party.

“How have you got the energy to laugh?” asked Harry, licking his ice cream. “I am absolutely pooped.”

“We've got to get back up the hill yet to get back to the shop,” said Matt looking apologetic. “But we'll head towards Rodwell and cut down by Asda.”

“We know,” said the boys.

“If you continue up towards the harbour, Gaby could bring Maddy's bike to you there, to save you a little bit of energy,” which was what they did, although, after riding the new machine; Gaby was even less impressed with the hire bike she had to ride to catch up the others. They were standing, looking towards Radipole Lake.

She let Maddy stay on her Dolce, it being a better ride than the hire bike, “Come on let's get home and phone the police, see what they think,” she said as they set off.