CHAPTER THREE (Caution. -Things get a bit darker - temporarily- in this chapter)

Day 16

I got up early as part of what’s becoming my usual routine and went to milk the goats. They’ve all got names now, and they come to me as soon as they see me appear out of the house. I’m sure that’s because I’ve usually got a bucket of scraps and peelings from the day before, but I like to think its because they’re getting to like me too.

We all appeared for breakfast as we had yesterday. Pete mumbled an apology, but made no further comment on how Ash and Drew were dressed. He ate quickly and left the table without saying anything else. When I finished eating I went after him and caught up with him in the library. He was sat in the window seat. Rain had arrived and was tumbling down the pane.
“You ok?”
“Not really.”
‘Want to talk about it?’
“No.”
I paused and tried another tack. “Want to go for a walk?”
“Look at it. It’s pissing down.”
“We’ve got waterproofs.”
He didn’t answer.
“Look. I know this is difficult. Christ, it’s a fucking nightmare. For all of us…”
“Not those two fucking queers…”
“Pete! Look, I know you’re not yourself…”
He snorted derisively. “Fucking look at me. Course I’m not my fucking self.”
“We’ll get through this better if we stick together.”
“Dave?”
I took a step toward him. “What is it Pete? You know you can talk about it with me.”
“Fuck off.”

The rain went off in the afternoon so I headed out by myself. I walked into the woods on the north side of the house and after a while came across a beautiful big old oak, with a buttressed trunk that created a niche just wide enough for my shoulders to fit in when I sat leaning against it. There was a squirrel, a red one, with a slight kink in its tail like it had been dislocated at some point, collecting food for hibernating. I watched him for a while and he stopped and looked back, as though to acknowledge my presence, before continuing.

In the evening I stayed late in the sitting room, after all the others had gone to bed and the fire had died. My eyes adjusted to the dark and I went upstairs without a candle and climbed straight into bed. The nightgown was hanging on the back of the door. I couldn’t see it in the dark, but I could feel its presence. I lay tossing and turning for an hour or so, but eventually I could stand it no longer. I got up and repeated what I had done last night.

Day 40

I haven’t written for almost a month. I haven’t been able to bring myself to it. I haven’t been able to confront this life of deceit that I’ve been leading. I’m lying to Pete. I’m not being truthful with Ash and Drew about how I’m feeling either. I’m supposed to be their skipper, but how can I lead them when I’m lost myself?

The only time I feel authentic is when I’m with my goats. They at least accept me for what I am. They aren’t interested in whether I’m a man or a woman, old or young, black or white. I sit with each one as I’m milking, resting my head on her flank, feeling the strength of her heartbeat, trying to reciprocate through my touch the quiet, undemanding gift from her of her milk. And I walk in the woods, and rest up against the old oak, feeling the embrace of her trunk, sheltering me. Sometimes I think that I can feel her spirit, ancient and filled with wisdom, acknowledging the passing of the seasons and the changes in the weather, but unaffected by them. Rooted, and indomitable.

But then I have to return to the house, and an atmosphere I can slice with a knife. As winter approaches, it seems like everyone’s mood has declined with the weather. Apart from their kitchen duties, Ash and Drew have been pretty much keeping to themselves. When it’s just the three of us it’s fine. It’s impossible to think of them as anything other than two teenage girls now and they seem, if not happy, at least content. But when Pete appears I can see them stiffen. They’re afraid of him. He’ll lose his temper about almost anything these days and, try as I might, he’s becoming impossible to live with.

And every evening I’ve been retreating to my room, with its secrets. It’s become an escape for me, a place where I can get out of my own head. I’ve been exploring the contents of my dressing room, trying on all of the different outfits and lingerie. Then I’ll sit at my dressing table and make up my face. It’s become a kind of ritual – like a zen mantra, it occupies my brain enough so that I don’t have to think about anything else. I’ll brush my hair out and stare deep into the mirror at the girl who is in there. She’s pretty, and over the last few weeks I’ve got good enough at doing my make up to bring out her features – her blue eyes, her full lips, her cheekbones. A couple of weeks ago I realised I wasn’t ashamed any more. Not about the dressing. The more I dressed the more I knew that this was who I was now, that Ash and Drew had been right, that I needed to accept that and move on. But I could never tell that to Pete. And I couldn’t admit it to A&D either, in case either of them let it slip. It feels like we’re in a kind of limbo, the four of us, like a circus balancing act, straining, hanging on, but knowing that at some point it will all come crashing down.

Day 53

Everything came to a head 4 days ago. After weeks of rain, the skies had cleared briefly and I’d managed to persuade Pete to come out for a walk. Instead of pondering our current situation I’d steered the conversation onto some of our sailing adventures, the parties we’d had afterwards and the girls we’d met there. He was visibly brighter when we got back to the house and for the first time since we’d got here I was optimistic that at last we were making progress.

Perhaps it was that optimism that led me to be careless and forget to lock my door when I went to my room that night. I’d just finished my make up and was sat at my dresser wearing the burgundy nightgown and robe when there was a knock at the door. Before I had time to answer, Pete was in my room.
“Dave!...What the fuck?...”
Pete, I…”
“Jesus! You as well. After everything…After walking with you today. You’re just like those other two! I thought you were with me, Dave, I thought you were on my side…”
Before I could say anything he’d walked out and slammed the door behind him.

I sat there stunned for a few seconds. My first reaction was to rush after him and try to explain things. But he wouldn’t have anything to do with me, dressed as I was. I should go and get changed back into trousers, wash my face, and try to talk to him then. But the cat was already out of the bag now, why keep perpetuating the lie I’d been living over the past weeks; perhaps I should just come clean with him now? But how would he react to that? I was frozen. Incapable of making a decision.

A couple of minutes passed. Fuck. No point going back to where we’ve been ever since we arrived here. I need to come clean and take the consequences. I took a deep breath and went to his room. Knocked. No answer. I opened the door, gingerly. It was dark inside. A single candle burned on a dresser, casting a flickering pool of light onto a sheet of paper next to it. Scrawled across it I read “I’m sorry. I’ve had enough. I can’t take this any longer.”

I ran out of his room, screaming for Ash and Drew to follow me. Downstairs a door banged in the kitchen and I ran through the hall towards the sound. The door into the vegetable garden was open, swinging on its hinges. Winter had arrived with a vengeance, thick snow already depositing itself on the stone kitchen floor, driven by a strong westerly wind. I could hear the waves crashing against the base of the cliffs beyond the end of the garden. I stepped out, just in time to see the gate there pulled open and a figure pass through. I shouted and ran on. Through the gate, out across the open field at the back of the house towards the cliffs. I stumbled, my bare feet struggling for grip on the icy grass, but I could see him now, and I was gaining on him. I got to my feet, my gown matted against my body by the driving snow, and called after him again. He was only around 20 metres away when he stopped at the cliff edge. He turned to look at me. I paused. I thought I saw him nod briefly; a kind of final acknowledgement, and then he stepped back and dropped out of sight. I screamed, and fell to the ground, unconscious.