Whatever Next? Chapter 23 by Angharad Copyright© 2022 Angharad

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(title picture Andrea Piacquadio)

The day after the trip to Wales and the bike race was a Sunday, and both teens were tired. Gaby did a training run of twenty-five miles out to Wareham and back, but it was fairly flat and not too arduous. However, it stretched her legs and took some of the stiffness out of them.

Carol was under the impression that Harry had been with her, which he wasn’t because he came to the door while she was out. Ten minutes after he’d gone, she returned and got a carpeting for breaking the rules.

“I thought we had a deal?” Carol said, looking disappointed.

“Yeah, we have.” Gaby knew that something was up.

“I thought Harry was going to ride with you?”

“He does usually.”

“But not today?”

Gaby now knew that Carol knew Harry hadn’t ridden with her, so fibbing would make things worse—the grounding would be longer. “Um, no, he wasn’t up when I went round there, so I started without him.”

“Did you call for him?”

“Um, no, I usually meet him either at the end of our drive or his one. He wasn’t at either, so I thought he was still in bed, he was very tired after yesterday.”

“You should have come home and waited or knocked for him.”

“Yes, Auntie Carol.” Gaby looked at the floor and felt cross with herself.

“I should clip your wings, young lady, but I know you have this bike race in a couple of weeks, so I’m going to let you off with a warning. You are not to ride alone until this Meadows character is caught. Got it?”

“Thanks, Auntie Carol.” Gaby went to hug Carol who repelled the advances.

“Not until you’ve had a shower, eh?”

“Oh, yeah.” Gabs smelt under her arm.

“You might as well cut the grass while you’re grubby.”

Thinking it wiser to obey than protest that Maddy didn’t do much except sit on her backside all weekend, Gaby went off and got the mower out of the shed and cut the lawns.

After a much needed shower and putting her smelly cycling gear in the washing machine, it was time for homework and dinner. After eating, the two teens were told to wash up; they squabbled in the kitchen.

“Huh, I cut the lawns, you should be doing this,” grumbled our wunderkind.

“I am—stupid.”

“I mean on your own, I cut the grass.”

“So? I did the vacuuming and the laundry yesterday. Don’t sit down, you’ve got your ironing to do. I did mine yesterday. So there.” Maddy poked out her tongue and Gaby shoved the sudsy dishcloth against it.

This gave rise to a full scale engagement, with both raising voices and waving arms at each other. Carol had to come and sort it out. Having laid down the law, Gaby was sent off to do her ironing in the dining room and Maddy was made to finish the dishes and clear up the kitchen. Neither was very happy and once finished, ignored the other for the rest of the evening.

Gaby had protested about the ironing, but Carol had countered, “You wanted to play the girl, this is what you get. It’s not all painting your nails and waggling your bum about, some of it is hard work, too.”

The high point of the day was Dave phoning just as she finished her ironing. “Hello, kiddo, how was Wales?”

“Just head north and turn left at Bristol.”

“I mean the bike race, dopey.”

“Yeah, it was good. We did a ride over the course after—nearly killed Harry.”

“What, the traffic or the hills?”

“The hills, two nasty ones, even some of the pros were caught out by it.”

“But you managed it?”

“Yeah, ‘course.”

“Big’ead,” joked Dave, knowing well that Gaby was a very good hill climber, partly due to her small size and light frame.

“Well, you trained me to climb hills.”

“Yeah, I know, kiddo, I was only joking.”

“Heard from Mum?” asked Gaby; neither she nor Jules had for over a week.

“She’s out in the States with the team at the moment. She might call later. If she does I can tell her we’ve got the roof on and the floors are down. Windows go in tomorrow and they finish plastering the walls. Then it’s wiring and plumbing, new bathrooms and kitchen, so your mum will be pleased.”

“Yeah, I s’pose.”

“What’s the matter, so…kiddo?”

“Nuthin’, just had a row with Mad.”

“What about?”

“She was bitching about the dishes.”

“She was or you were?”

Gaby felt a blush coming on, how do parents do that, read your mind—however embarrassing it was? “I was,” Dave didn’t see the tomato-coloured face the other end, but he could imagine it.

“I can’t see Carol working either of you to death, can you?”

“No, s’pose not, but I had to do the grass cutting and the dishes and do my own ironing.”

“Oh dear, never mind it’s good practice for when you get a place of your own.” Dave was pragmatic about these things and he knew Carol would be doing the bulk of everything there. Gaby didn’t necessarily agree; once back in the macho Drewbie role, he was gonna leave all that stuff to his wife or girlfriend. He was just emerging from the shadows of Gabyness, when Dave asked, “Bought any new clothes or things?”

“You’re not usually interested,” replied the stunned teen.

“I was asking in case you needed some more money, but if you haven’t spent it you won’t, will you?” Dave was teasing.

“Yeah, I do, I saw this heavenly pair of shoes, Daddy, they’re black so I can wear them to school with my skirt and my trousers.” Drew was once again engulfed in the feminine urges that constituted the unbridled Gaby monster. Later he would wonder if he had any future at all, or was he doomed to remain as a girl forevermore. A similar thought assailed his father, who felt a degree of loss but possibly some sense of resolution—if Drew became Gaby permanently, they could start to relax a bit and just deal with one set of problems rather than the flitting in and out of the role, which had been the pattern until the trip to Dorset. ‘Oh well time will sort it out, I suppose,’ he thought to himself.

“Okay, I’ll send you some more, spend it sensibly, it doesn’t grow on trees, you know?”

“If it did, you’d be able to get loads of it at the mill, Daddy.”

Dave decided he’d asked for that. He spoke with his younger daughter for another ten minutes before asking about her sister. The reply was half expected, “She’s out at John’s house, she’ll be back in half an hour or so,” lied Gaby, Jules was never back before ten and it was only half past eight.

“Okay, I’ll go and do my own laundry then, while Uncle John does the dishes. Bye, Luv, talk to you soon.”

“Bye, Daddy, don’t forget the money will you?”

“I put some in your account yesterday.”

“Oh thanks, Daddy, how did you know I needed some more?”

“I’m experienced with daughters, remember?”

“Oh yeah, like I could forget.” Gaby blushed again, this being a girl business was becoming automatic, it would have to stop soon or Drew would never survive.

Dave rang off and Gaby took her school clothes up to her bedroom, or at least the one she shared with Jules. She looked around, there was nothing of Drew there at all. The clothes, the makeup, the deodorants and other assorted smellies, the shoes and bags were all girl. She hung up the clothes—something Drew rarely did—and sat on her bed. Was coming down here a big mistake? It could have been.

She mused over the reasons why they had returned. Escaping embarrassment at home was one. The race had shown Gaby riding and it had been on the telly and in Cycling Weekly, so everyone must know by now. The gang had been very quiet, so they must be trying to avoid dealing with the issue. Drew, if he returned, would be an outcast, but then so would Gaby as people twigged that they were one and the same. He felt really sad and fed up.

Maddy looked in from after using the bathroom, “Wotcha doin’?”

“I didn’t think you cared,” said Gaby sarcastically.

“Get you, if I didn’t care, I wouldn’t be down ‘ere, would I? Like use yer loaf for more than makin’ sandwiches.”

“Yeah, sorry.” Gaby stared at the dressing table.

“Wassamatta?” Maddy asked, now entering the room.

“I was wondering if coming down here was a big mistake?”

“Like why?”

“Well, I wonder if I shall ever get back to being a boy?”

“Enjoying the girly stuff too much, are we?”

“Absolutely not—that is like, the problem. I’m a boy, remember?”

“Yeah, okay, like keep yer tits on.”

“You what?” said Gaby, processing the last comment.

“Well, they are a nice pair—for a boy, that is.”

“Yeah, that’s what I am, a boy with tits…”

“An’ a nice bum…”

“Oh geez, Mad, don’t say any more, I already feel like killing myself.”

“Gabs, don’t be silly,” she sat on the bed and hugged him. “Why make things easy for Meadows? Besides, you’re one of the cutest cousins I’ve got.”

“That’s the problem, I’m a boy, remember, I don’t wanna be cute, I wanna do boy things.” Gaby had eyes that were getting moister by the minute.

“Like what?”

“I doan know, do I?”

“Like fighting an’ stuff?”

“Ugh no, I don’t like fighting, it’s a…”

“Boy thing?” queried Mad.

“No, it’s for morons, and girls fight too, remember?”

“They really are morons,” Maddy agreed, “I mean, pulling someone’s hair, I mean, you could like, break a nail, couldn’t you?”

“Yeah, I s’pose so.” Gaby unconsciously looked at her nails, “Mine need doin’ again.” She flashed them at Maddy.

“How do you manage to grow ‘em, mine just break off?”

“Dunno, they just grow, all I do is file ‘em now an’ again, why?”

“’Snot fair, look at mine,” she held hers out next to Gaby’s and they were all irregular and shorter than her cousin’s. “Hey, why don’t we do ‘em a bit more dramatic?”

“Waddya mean?” Gab wasn’t sure she liked anything dramatic, at this rate she’d end up with false eyelashes like Maddy’s.

Maddy rose and after disappearing for a moment came back shaking a bottle of nail varnish. She used Gaby’s own remover pads and cleaned up her cousin’s nails. “Now go and wash ‘em, to get it all off.”

“I’m not gonna end up looking stupid, am I?”

“Course not, Gabs, would I do anything like that to you?”

“Yes,” she said ducking away just in time to avoid the slap. Two minutes later she was back and a few minutes after that, she had royal blue fingernails.

“There, now you’ll stand out in the crowd.”

“I’m not sure I want to, Mad.”

“Course yer do, yer special, make the most of it.”

“Waddya mean?”

“Wait here a minute.” Mad disappeared and reappeared once more, she fiddled with something on the dressing table, “Right, keep dead still, and don’t blink.”

“I can’t, you’ve got hold of me eyelid.”

Maddy fiddled back and fore, and Gaby had a sinking feeling about what was happening. The next bit was even more unexpected. Maddy put small amounts of Vaseline above and below Gaby’s eyes, then began mixing something. “Okay, close ‘em, open ‘em, close ‘em.”

“What’re you doin’?”

“Just making ‘em all the same colour.”

“All what?”

“Your eyelashes, dummy.”

“Are they gonna look like yours?”

“Nah, they’ll be better than mine, I’ve done your lower lashes as well.”

“Done what, exactly?”

“Duh! Added longer falsies and dyed ‘em.”

“What?”

“I did the top ones so they won’t look stupid, or anythin’.”

“What?”

“It’s alright, Gabs, you are gonna look stunnin’.”

“I doan wanna look stunnin’, I wanna look like a boy.”

“Oops, that won’t be possible for a few weeks, I’m afraid.”

Maddy wiped his eyes and his brows.

“Can I open them yet?”

“Yeah, now you can.”

Gaby stood up and walked to the mirror. “Geez, Maddy, what have you done? They look like caterpillars, those big ‘airy ones, an’ what have you done to my eyebrows? They used to be blonde.”

“I dyed ‘em to match your lashes.”

“I look like something out of an all girl band.”

“Yeah, kewl, innit?”

“Auntie Carol will kill me.” She touched her face and saw the long-shaped blue nails. “Geez, Maddy, I can’t go to school like this.”

“Why not? Short skirt and your heels, the boys will be following you around …”

“Like I’m a hooker Take it off, Mad, please?”

“I—um—like—can’t, can I, it’s all superglue and permanent dye.”

“You mean, what?” Gaby shrieked and Carol came running up the stairs to see what was going on.

“What’s the matt…what the hell have you done to Gaby?” Carol demanded of her daughter.

“I think it looks kewl,” said Maddy defending herself.

“Well I don’t, she looks like a twenty-five-year-old streetwalker, now get it off before you go to bed. And take that eyebrow pencil off, it’s far too dark.”

“I—um—can’t, it’s eyelash dye.” Maddy stepped away from her mother who looked more carefully at Gaby’s face.

“You’ve surely not used those stupid superglue eyelashes again?” demanded Carol.

“I was only trying to cheer her up, I’m sorry.”

“Maddy, Gaby is not your full-sized Barbie Doll, she’s a real girl who has feelings.”

“I know,” squealed Maddy, and ran out of the room crying.

“What am I gonna do, Auntie Carol,” asked Gaby, tears now flowing.

“I think we’ll have to get you to a salon tomorrow and see if they can undo some of this nonsense. Goodness, it does make you look older, though.”

“D’you think, Mad, like hates me?”

“No, why should I think that?”

“Well this lot for a start,” Gaby waved a hand around her face.

“Blue nails—for school? Is that wise, Gaby?”