Dorothy Philpot. Landlady of The Harbour Light pub
Sam Philpot. Drag-queen.
Billy Parkins Doorkeeper.
Jessica Merlot The town’ and county archaeologist.
Josephine MacDonald The town and county archivist
Richard Drummond Town planning inspector
Robert Vincent. Junior planning inspector.
Dorothy smiled as she watched Sam punch out her grand finale from the little stage that was attached to the end of the bar. The whole pub was rocking to her rendition of being what she was and the performance could be heard across the dock. Sam smiled down at Dot as the landlady extended a helping hand and the drag-queen teetered gratefully down the little step ladder behind the bar before slipping into the back room that served as a dressing and changing area for the girls.
“I’ll be with you in a tick babes after we’ve locked up,” she called down the corridor to Sam before starting to call last orders.
Sam grinned as she slumped gratefully into the chair and slipped off her killer heels before making two mugs of coffee and listening to Dorothy engaging in the ‘chucking out’ banter with the good-humoured crowd. She had cleaned off her outrageous makeup and changed outfits as Dot returned with the takings from the till. Sam raised an inquisitive eyebrow and Dot nodded.
“Yes. Another good night. At this rate we’ll own the place in a few years.”
“Who’d a’ thought eh?” Sam grinned as she raised her coffee mug to toast their success. “You an’ me successful businesspeople.”
Dorothy nodded contentedly as their mugs clinked softly and Billy the bouncer appeared from the backdoor
“All secure and the yard gate’s locked.”
Dot handed Billy his wages from her handbag. It didn’t do to let everybody know how much the till takings amounted to, and Billy stuffed the notes into his wallet not knowing how successful the drag nights at the Harbour Light had become.
“How was the door tonight darling?” Dot asked as Billy joined them with a bottle of ale he drank ‘Board-of-trade’ style.
“Same old, same old. Lots of people wondering why you don’t stay open until six am and others wondering why you don’t open more late nights in the week.”
Sam and Dot exchanged thoughtful glances but remained silent. The Harbour Light had also become a popular daytime restaurant and dining tourists would often peer into the silent bar as if confirming that the Harbour Light’s night-time reputation as a successful drag venue was true. Then the midday diners would stop and peer at the posters and smirk at the exaggerated posted displaying the drag queens.
Sometimes those tourists would try to make reservations for the weekends but they were always told it was a first come, first served basis. Running a booking system was just too much organisation and required extra staff to organise. Dot would sometimes recognise the daytime tourist diners in the night crowds on Friday and Saturdays.
The Harbour light pub had exceeded Dot and Sam’s wildest expectations thus, running the venue had become a full-time job - and then some.
The truth was that both ‘girls’ preferred the restaurant side of the business because it contributed to the more genteel and family friendly tourism that the old dock now encouraged. Indeed Dot and Sam had been two of the primary instigators of the gentrification of the old, cobbled streets and ware houses that had miraculously survived the second world war bombs. When the commercial trade had moved downriver the old docks had become dilapidated and seriously run down.
It was because Dot and Sam had lived ‘over-the-shop’ as ‘pot boys’ during their early years that they gradually moved up the ranks to eventually become the ‘landladies’ who managed the creaking old pub. Dot reflected ruefully how, in those early years, only the illuminated sign hanging over the door offered any invitation amongst the decaying stygian darkness that was the dereliction of ‘Harbour street.’
It was about a year after Dot took over the licence for the pub that she got a visit from a couple of ‘suits’ one morning as she was setting out a couple of spotlessly clean tablecloths over some long bench-seat tables. Dot glanced at them and approached them anticipating an order for drinks and perhaps some food, - ‘brunch perhaps,’ she thought to herself.
“Morning gentlemen,” she smiled, as she offered them one of the tables,” what can I get you?” She continued as she reached into her apron to produce the small menu printed on a card. She noticed that they seemed to be studying her and the Harbour light pub more than the menu as she busied herself with setting out a couple of smaller round tables and chairs. Finally, as she set out the large table-parasols, they asked to order.
The suits smiled agreeably then invited her to sit with them as she brought the beer in a foaming jug, two tall glasses and a large plate of sandwiches. She had no reason to be wary of the invite for it was a beautiful sunny morning and Sam was busy bottling up the bar in easy earshot. She accepted their invitation but did not choose to drink.
“Well gentlemen, what else do you want?”
“We will come straight-out with-it Miss Philpot. You are the licensee we believe, and we are council planning inspectors. We have been approached by developers with a view to redeveloping this whole area. We’d like your thoughts.”
Dot fell silent for the planning inspectors had struck a chord very close to Dot’s heart. She decided to be cautious.
“What? D’ you mean like razing the area and building houses?”
“That’s just one option,” the more senior looking man observed. “We are also looking for ideas, and being as you are one of the very few permanent residents, we’d like to sound you out.”
“We’re the only residents of Harbour Street,” Dot replied, “well leastwise Sam and I are. This whole south side of the docks estate is just derelict warehouses and the old sand berth, which closed up a couple of years ago. The berth connects through to the old dock and that was the last bit of commercial trade, so there’s literally nobody else. The sand dredgers used to dock on the old dock side and sand lorries used to come through here past the pub. Since that trade stopped, we took the opportunity to uses the old basin as an extension to the pub.
“That’s possibly a good thing,” the planner opined, because we’re looking to create a sympathetic development to enhance the town centre.”
“You mean like the Albert Dock in Liverpool or St Katherine’s dock in London?”
“Well not quite as salubrious as that but we’re keen to keep your pub as part of the ambience of the area. We both agree that you do an excellent job of presenting the Harbour Light. It’s a credit to you.”
“Well to Sam as well as me. If you wish to discuss ideas she should be beside me. We’re companions after all and partners in the Harbour light. It’s just that I’m the Licensee.”
“Oh. Is she available?”
“Yes, that’s her putting the bottles up behind the bar. I’ll get her.”
Instead of just shouting across the tables, Dot entered the bar and spoke softly to Sam.
“There’s two council planning inspectors wanting to chat about Developing the area. This could do us a favour. You know how you’ve always expressed a wish to expand the pub.”
Sam turned and stared eagerly at Dot.
“Go on!”
“Come out and join us and bring a couple of wines.”
Sam needed no encouragement and the pair were soon seated outside on the forecourt of the Harbour Light. After a brief outline chat Sam remarked.
“I think your third option is the most attractive.” She opined. “Redeveloping Harbour street as a sort of specialist, historic shopping street to serve the new housing that connects Harbour street to the town centre.”
“That’s the sort of thing some of our councillors are thinking.”
“If you connected the old canal it would make a very picturesque area for narrowboats and sea-going boats.” Dot suggested.
The younger inspector smiled wistfully.
“We’d love to but that opportunity was lost when they rebuilt the offices for the town council. It is right across where the old canal entered the old dock.”
Dot peered uncomprehendingly at the inspectors.
“Who said anything about connecting the dock? That’s already connected to the river and sea by the old sea lock. I presume you’re going to make the old dock a marina?”
“Yes, we are, but that still does not connect the canal to the old dock.”
“I wasn’t talking about connecting the canal to the dock.”
“Go on,” the inspector pressed curiously.
“I was thinking of re-excavating the old Harbour Street basin and re-opening the little flight of earlier locks from the river basin that used to be harbour street.”
“Staircase locks?!” Where exactly?”
“Over there,” Dot pointed, “It wasn’t a staircase, there was a little holding pond between the two locks. You see where that old oak tree fills the gap between the fallen down stone ware-houses. It used to come down between the two of them.”
“How do you know all this?” The inspector frowned.
“It’s on the old map on the deeds to the pub.”
“Deeds! Plans you mean?”
“Yes. The Harbour Light is fourteenth century or even older. Our deeds show the pub when everything around here was fields. Our pub used to have a channel marker light that was lit each night by the Publican as was. You see that big stone Niche with the wide shelf protruding out of the corner buttress.”
The inspectors looked up and squinted curiously as Dot explained.
“When the tide was high and boats entered the river, the publican-cum- harbourmaster used to set a large lantern on the shelf and it was the leading light for the sea reach from this ancient river basin to the river mouth. As you can see, it’s a straight line.”
“My God!” The inspector expostulated as he took out his phone. “Can I see your deeds?”
“You can see the copies. The original deeds are held in the Admiralty hydrography museum. They belong to us but they are on more or less permanent loan to the museum. They’re very valuable because they show some very old original permanent boundaries were the river has shifted over the centuries.
Every time the naval hydrographers make major amendments, they send deed-holders a notice if they are deemed to affect them. Some of the deeds might be affected by changing channels, but ours don’t because we’re up-river between more permanent river banks.
If they re-excavated the old Harbour basin though I suppose we’d get a notice.”
As Dot returned to the table with the deeds contained in a flat canvas folio, the inspector was talking agitatedly to somebody called Jessica. As he gabbled excitedly he helped Dot lay the deeds flat on the table and eagerly examined them as he continued chatting into his phone.
“Yes, they’ve got all the original deeds, they’ve even got photocopies of the seals and tabs, one of them is dated thirteen something. It’s even in Latin. Ah! Here we are, she’s just unfolded the English translations. This is Gold Jessica. It’ll save days of searches and everything, why aren’t these in our archives?”
There was a brief answer from the phone that Dot could not distinguish until the inspector explained.
“Oh- I see, bomb damage. Yeah, that makes sense, the old fishing village got hammered during the Blitz.”
The inspector turned to Dot and she shrugged her shoulders as she anticipated his request.
“Be my guest, but please return it. Even though I’ve only got the copies they’re important to the pub’s history.”
“Most certainly, I’ll get the Hydrography Museum to make some larger copies. You’d do well to get one framed and place it on the bar-room wall it’s of interest to lots of people. Do you know this area well.”
“Pretty much,” Dot replied, “I’ve worked here since I was sixteen and pretty much poked around in all of these derelict buildings.”
“Not scavenging I hope, there might be some old artifacts of interest to the town archivist and historian.”
“There is nothing of interest to me now; it’s all been cleared out by scrap dealers, though I do know of one thing.” Dot tapped the deeds and revealed. “That bollard’s been there for hundreds of years I reckon.”
“What’s that?”
“I’ll show you, but I’ll photograph it first. It’s part of the ancient fabric I shouldn’t wonder.”
“What is it?”
Dot sensed an uneasy amount of interest but she agreed to show the two inspectors while taking her mobile phone with her. She led the inspectors to the inner end of Harbour Street whilst inviting Sam to accompany her as an extra witness. Then she took them to the old, stunted oak tree between the old stone ruins. The tree and overgrown bramble bush caused the street to be a ‘cul-de-sac’ because any footway way between the old stone ware-houses was totally blocked.
Dot and the younger inspector tugged aside a huge clump of brambles with a pieced of stick and peered under the bush.
“There. See. Under the trunk buried in the bank.”
“Oh yes,” the older inspector gasped. “It’s an old docking bollard, but it wasn’t originally a bollard.” He observed sagaciously.
“No.” Confirmed Dot. It’s an old Tudor cannon. It’s got HR on it but the trunk’s grown over that bit in the last couple of years. It’s stuck upside-down into the old lock corner stone to function as a docking bollard, much stronger than an ordinary mooring bollard. It’s on the pub deeds as some sort of boundary marker, so it’s been there since fourteen or fifteen something. The earliest deed for the pub goes back to thirteen something but the cannon is not shown, or the earliest canal. Those are shown on the second, amended set of the pub deeds. That’s why we left them at the museum. They’re a set of valuable historic documents.”
“That bollard or cannon could be fifteenth or sixteenth century most probably.” The younger inspector opined eagerly. “Can we get a closer look at it?”
“It’s bronze,” Dot confirmed. “I’ve tested it with a knife and it came up a sort of dull yellow. That’s why I covered it up again and encouraged the brambles.”
“Really!”
Dot nodded silently as she took several photographs including one with the younger inspector kneeling down and studying the half covered ‘HR’ insignia.
“This has got to be investigated and recorded.”
“It is recorded, on our deeds but I’d like it to remain if they do excavate the old flight of locks. The bollard is a boundary marker as well as an ancient artefact.”
“No, it’ll have to go in the town museum, but we can certainly have a copy made to maintain the historic ambience.”
As the inspectors eagerly pulled away the earth and debris from under the bramble bush, a land-rover appeared and drove right up to the group. Two young ladies in jeans and wellies, climbed out and gasped with excitement before turning to Dot and Sam.
“Hello Richard, Bob. Are these the ladies from the Harbour light?”
The inspectors nodded and the girls identified themselves.
“Hello Ladies, we’re from the county history department. I’m Jessica and this is Josephine, how long have you known about this?”
“The cannon or the pub deeds?” Dot riposted.
“The cannon.” The driver replied as she knelt down with the council inspector.
“Ever since I started work at the harbour light. I was a pot boy way back when. I’ve always mooched around here once they gave me a bed in the pub. The old landlady took pity on me when she realised I was dossing in that old ware-house. The rest is history as they say.”
“The lady is the licensee now.” The older inspector interjected. “May I introduce Miss Dorothy Philpot and Miss Samantha Philpot who run the Harbour Light.”
The town archivist and county archaeologist exchanged very discreet, knowing glances but only Dot noticed. She’d seen the pair occasionally at the drag nights. As the drag queen on the stage, Sam was often blinded by the stage spotlights and rarely got to recognise any but the most regular attendees of the show.
As they fussed excitedly the two girls took photographs and some measurements then turned to Dot and the inspectors.
“Where are the deeds Bob?”
“Miss Philpot has them, they’re at the pub.”
They almost ran back to the pub where Jessica scolded Dot for just leaving such valuable documents on the forecourt table. The inspector intervened.
“It’s alright Miss Jessica. These are only copies; the originals are very secure.”
“I’d like to see the originals.”
“Then you’ll have to visit the hydrography museum in Taunton.”
“Oh. I see. They’d be more use to the county archivist.”
Once again Dot shrugged and smiled wryly.
“It’s neither here nor there to me. I couldn’t care less so long as the original is safe and I have access to it if ever I need them.”
“Can we transfer the originals to the county archives. They’ll be just as secure and more useful to us. Especially if we have to excavate.”
“Excavate?!” Sam squeaked.
“You’d best contact the Hydrography Museum,” Dot shrugged her shoulders. “The deeds are the property of Sam and me though and registered as such in London.”
Dots shrug was a body language that the inspectors and the County archivist had already come to recognise. She stepped back from the table and nodded with satisfaction then explained.
“This pub has a lot of history; has it ever been properly researched?” Joe asked.
“Dunno. We’ve poked around in the cellars quite extensively. There’s a couple of interesting variations in the stonework but remember this place is at sea-level. When the tide is in, it’s only a foot or so below the cellar floor. I’d be very surprised to find any tunnels or stuff.”
“Well I think a professional examination of the whole pub might bring some archaeological rewards.”
“Be our guests.” Sam allowed for she was the one who much preferred history.
“Yeah; open house.” Dot nodded. “But anything you find belongs to the pub. The old leading light for example.”
“The leading light?!” Jessica’s eyes widened.
“Yes. It’s the old brass lantern they used to fix to the niche on the corner outside. It used to guide the ships in. It’s quite a big thing; bigger than a ship’s mast light.”
“Oooh! Can I see it.”
“It’s in the cellar. We keep it there for safety. You’ll see why.”
Jessica and her companion were already out of their seats and fretting to go into the cellar. Dot chuckled and went to the bar to get the huge iron key. She reached under the bar counter and unlocked the metal key cabinet to produce the great clunking piece of metal. She held it up tantalisingly.
The archivist’s eyes widened with excitement.
“Well don’t keep us waiting!”
“I’ll get on with bottling up.” Sam offered as Dot stepped from behind the bar and motioned to the heavy oak door under the half landing of the stairs.
“This can be a bit stiff these days, I really should get the lock oiled,” Dot teased as she finally opened the door.
Jess and Joe almost fell down the steps in their eagerness while Dot switched on the lights.
The large brass lantern with a crude dioptric lens was hard to miss. It stood on an ancient stone shelf at the bottom of the cellar steps and the two girls gasped with delight as they immediately recognised its nautical dioptric lens.
“Do you ever set it out?” Jessica asked.
“Nah.” Dot explained. “It’s too heavy. In the old days they used to place it out from the landing window out on to the corner shelf but it’s too heavy for me. Try lifting it.
Jessica was quite a sturdy girl but she concluded it was too heavy to lift off its shelf and lug it up the stone steps then the wooden stairs to the landing window.
“The old publican – cum – harbourmaster would have had to have been a strong fellow.”
“And a busy one,” Joe added, “running the pub, collecting harbour fees and maintaining the navigational markers.
“And throwing out drunks and pirates.” Dot continued.
“Pirates!” Jessie almost shrieked.
“Yes. There’s some reports in the museum archives. It’s about slave traders or pirates entering the river but the town managed to beat them off. Because this pub was stone built and stone rooved, the attackers failed to break in. I wouldn’t be surprised if that Tudor Cannon had a part. It would certainly have surprised any eighteenth century Arab slave traders. Just look how thick the pubs seaward side walls are. They’re like a castle.”
“Is it true the moors attacked.” Jessie pressed.
“Certainly,” Josie assured them, “there are reports in the records and the only reason our town record survives is because the town beat them off. Several other small coastal villages were totally denuded of people. The men were at sea fishing and maybe forty or fifty women and children at a time, were carted off to north Africa. Slavery attacks were rampant in the sixteenth and seventeenth century in these parts.”
The Harbour Light was by then beginning to fill up with the lunchtime trade so they called it a day after making arrangements for further investigations.
The two county historians discussed another meeting with Dot and Sam and before leaving they listed several items and areas concerning the Harbour street area. Dot and Sam watched them depart and raised questioning eyebrows to each other.
“I’ve always reckoned this whole area could clean up nicely. Especially that row of old stone chandlers ware-houses. The old wooden gable hoists have still got a pleasing ambience.”
“I’d be more interested in excavating the old basin locks. There could be really good archaeology if the stonework is still under all that derelict land.” Sam replied.
“You’re just after the bronze cannon.” Dot chuckled.
“We’re gonna’ have to keep out eye on that now the suits know about it.”
“It’s safe darling, have you not fully read the deeds?” Dot cautioned.
“Why?” Sam wondered.
“The whole Basin belongs to the pub. The Harbour light used to be the harbourmaster’s office as well. The ware-houses are on nine hundred and ninety, nine-year leases but the old hard standing with its basin walls was, and still is part of the pubs land.”
“What about the property rates?”
“Provided we maintain the stone-lined pierhead revetment and the basin fabric, we’re exempted from rates.”
“Those stones will never move!” Sam chuckled. “They’re huge!”
“They’ve been there a good few hundred years and don’t look as though they’ve ever moved.”
“There’s no big ship traffic to disturb them any more since the sand dredgers left. We’re quids in cos the only traffic we’ll ever see is narrow boats and small yachts.”
“And if we do open up the canal to the basin, we’ll possibly be able to charge fees to access the river from the canal.” Dot smiled thoughtfully.
That night Dot and Sam slept well.
~~~~~~~~~
Dot and Sam 2
Dorothy Philpot. Landlady of The Harbour Light pub
Sam Philpot. Drag-queen.
Billy Parkins Doorkeeper.
Jessica Merlot The town’ and county archaeologist. (Jessie)
Josephine MacDonald The town and county archivist
(Joe)
Richard Drummond Town planning inspector
Robert Vincent. Junior planning inspector.
The Friday evening after the Town Planning inspector’s visit, Dot spotted Jessie and Joe in the front of the queue for the drag show. As she often did before opening the doors, she chatted at length with Billy the doorkeeper. She and Billy recognised the regulars as they strolled along the queue then Dot stopped beside the two county historians.
“Come to see how the other half lives girls?” Dot smiled.
“Surely all these won’t squeeze into the pub.” Jessica observed.
“Nah, lot’s will sit outside at the tables. It’s a nice warm night.”
“I didn’t realised there was such a large LGBT crowd in the town.”
“Yes, it’s Friday and Saturday nights that keep the pub afloat financially. Lots of out-of-towner’s though. The parking in the basin makes it poplar with visitors and the basin is away from the straight clubbing venues in town.”
“Where’s Sam?”
“Getting ready with the other girls. I’ll see you inside. D’you want me to reserve you some seats on the balcony.”
“I thought it was first come – first served.” Joe wondered.
“Landlady’s privilege. I’ll see you inside.” Dot threw over her shoulder as she continued checking out the queue.
As ever there were many cross-dressers and trans-gendered clientele whom Dot mostly recognised and she grinned a welcome which they returned happily.
After checking the queue, Dot returned inside, checked with the ‘girls’ and took her place behind the bar. Soon the Harbour Light was rocking to the music of the drag show as all the staff busied themselves with the frenetic job of serving food and drinks while at the bar, some patrons also served themselves at the bar.
Finally as the dawn sun had already risen, the Harbour light closed its doors to the evening crowd and Dot snatched a couple of hours before the cleaners appeared to prepare the pub for its daytime restaurant function. The cleaners let themselves in as Dot crawled out of bed and slowly the Harbour Light came to life again. At ten o’ clock, she emerged in her overall and tabard just as her regular waitress was setting out the Saturday morning lunch tables.
At noon she noted a booking for twelve diners and they turned up punctually as the restaurant was getting busy. Dot was surprised to recognise Richard and Bob acting as hosts to the party.
“Hello again,” Dot welcomed them. “I didn’t expect to see you again so early.”
“Well, we’ve got a little guilty secret,” Richard confessed. “These ladies and gentlemen comprise the council’s town planning committee. We’ve been watching this basin area for some time and we were seriously considering razing the area for housing but the way you’ve turned the Harbour light around has led the council to consider the second option to re-open the basin. Your pointing out the old connection to the Canal is what did it. The council has been wracking it’s brains to find some way of reconnecting the canal to the old dock and the river but your deeds finally cleared the way.
All the old plans of the old basin were lost in the Blitz and your deeds opened the door. They even showed the borders and boundaries of the
waste ground where the old locks led down to the basin from the ancient canal head. There’s no doubts now about ownership and the way is clear for the council to purchase the land to re excavate and reopen the earlier ancient locks.”
“Am I right in thinking you’ll be excavating the basin into the river again?” Dot asked.
“Hopefully,” one of the councillors interjected.” “Though sadly the old town dock does not own the land comprising Harbour Street. We’re having a problem determining the ancient title. Sometimes these land titles go way,- way back and they’re impossible to trace.”
Dot chuckled as Sam let out an amused snort. Dot explained.
“Well if you’re looking to reconnect the ancient basin to the canal and the river then you need look no further Councillor. Have you not studied the deeds to The Harbour Light yet?”
“We haven’t had a chance yet. We only got them yesterday morning from yourself. Our legal department will only get to study them on Monday.”
“Ah! Of course,” Dot chuckled again, “the delights of nine-to-five working. Well as I said, you need look no further. Freehold to the basin belongs to the Harbour light which is an ancient riparian water right going back to Domesday Book. When they filled the basin in to create Harbour Street they created an easement over the recovered land and that’s what all the trading businesses enjoyed. But as all these businesses closed down to move down river, the easement fell into abeyance and if the basin is excavated again, the riparian rights to the water in the basin are returned to the Harbour Light pub.”
The councillors fell silent and Dot savoured the uncertainty before relieving their misery.
“Don’t get too worried ladies and gentlemen. It’s in the deeds, in the fourth section of the eighteenth-century deeds when they needed hard landing by the river. To board troops and weapons I believe. The riparian rights were suspended but never annulled. The Latin says in perpetuity.”
There was a noticeable ripple of relief and Dot felt a tug of mischief at her gut.
“So ladies and gentlemen, I’m sure that we can re-excavate the basin and for a small docking fee, boats can travel between the river and canal again as William the Bastard agreed.”
“William the Bastard?” One of the councillors asked.
“She means William the conqueror,” Richard, the senior planning inspector explained with a slight smile, ”you know, ten-sixty-six and all that.”
“Good God! Does this place go that far back?” The councillor pressed.
“There’s an inn listed on this piece of rock in the Dooms-day book.” Sam smirked as she came out with the first plates of food and started serving the councillors. “It was one of the few bits of secure high ground that survived the river’s meandering. Once the inn was built, it was an easy step to start building a basin by dredging down to whatever rock they could locate and found the earliest basin walls upon it. It was a sure anchor in a whole swathe of moveable sandbanks and mud.
Once the pub and the mole for the basin entrance were fixed then, ever so slowly, the river path stabilised up stream and the town came to settle on the upstream banks. Some of the oldest buildings just up-stream from the old dock, are still set on wooden piles. They’re well preserved by the mud because the basin walls fixed them in the mud down to the rock.
As the councillors started to eat, a familiar land-rover appeared and the two county historians, Jessica and Josephine emerged. Dot stepped back from attending the councillors table.
“Couldn’t keep away ladies?” Dot grinned.
“We were invited to the meal but we had to wait for copies of the documents to be sent from Exeter and London. Jeeze, this pub is in the Doomsday book.”
“We’ve just found that out, the councillors chorused.” However they eagerly snatched the copies that Jessie and Joe distributed.
“Thank god for the internet,” Jessie grinned to Dot. “How’s the meeting gone?”
“It looks like there’s progress but you lot are going to be busy. There’s a huge amount of excavation.”
“Oh?” Jessies eyes widened excitedly.
“Yes,” Richard the town planner replied. “If all parties can agree it looks as though we’ll be excavating the old basin and reopening the medieval locks up to the old canal. It’s the only option, short of tearing down the new town hall.”
“Suite’s me,” Dot added, “a dozen narrow boats all queuing up in the basin to await the canal lock means lots of people wanting to eat and drink. I reckon that’s how the inn got started. Boats securing to the rock for a chance to rest.
With some historic buildings around the basin and discreet parking where the old sand berth is walled off behind some old coaching style gates this place could become a picture postcard feature for the town.”
Richard the town planner’s eyes brightened. It wasn’t often his people got a chance to re-create a medieval town-scape. He even took out a sketchbook and started doodling at the table as the councillors chatted enthusiastically.
Eventually, a consensus was reached to re-excavate the old basin, excavate the old flight of locks and excavate the two lock pounds where some greening could be returned with a picnic area and permanent seating. By the time the consensus was reached, Richard had sketched out a rough idea of the layout and it certainly did promise a really attractive location. Dot had even managed to agree a provisional swap of the ownership of the opposite side of the basin for the ownership of the first whare-house between her pub and the sand wharf carpark.
“What’s the benefit to us?” Sam asked Dot.
“Have you ever been inside that whare-house.” Dot asked Sam.”
“Well let me tell you. It houses the old stables with the stalls and mangers still intact. It will make a very attractive dining area and parking area. The old ostler’s loft was built for the ostler to live in over the horses way back and I’ve always kept a key handy because the old chandlers who used to own it asked me to keep an eye on it. It’s the only whare-house and stables that evaded the depredations of the scrap merchants and dealers.
It’s a historic building inside and you can bet your bottom dollar Richard and the girls will have it listed in a flash when they see it. Come and look.”
So saying, Dot rooted to the very back of the metal key locker under the bar and pulled out another ancient key.
“I’ve often wondered what that was for.” Sam frowned.
“It’s the key to the double stable doors where next door opens onto the Old Dock. If you go and look you’ll find it’s in better nick than all the old doors on the other whare-houses. It’s the only whare house that has a large back door to the old dock and that’s why I would like to make it an extension to the pub.”
Having finished their inspection of the old Harbour street and taken note of clues that pointed to where the old basin walls and copingstones marked the extent of the Basin, the councillors were intrigued to actually see inside the only wholly intact whare-house on harbour street. Dot led them around the back of the whare-house to the old dock itself.
After unlocking the double doors she presented the old stable for view.
“As you see councillors, stables for six horses and the middle space is where the old heavy-duty horse drawn waggon used to be stored. Sadly, the old waggon is long gone. I believe it was used for all sorts of heavy draught work around the town. This old stable would make a perfect, period piece extension to The Harbour Light’s space which is somewhat restricted. We can of course keep the old fittings to create table niches, though the old cobbled-stone floor will have to be resurfaced and levelled for safety.”
Dot watched with satisfaction as she watched the whole party examining the space and nodding approval. Furthermore, the old stables opened both both ways onto the ancient basin plus the old dock thus improving fire safety access.
By late afternoon, a consensus had been reached that left Dot and Sam content that their hopes and plans would be approved. Dot knew from past experiences that if you left people to have large say in your plans and make them think that the ideas were theirs, it was an effective way to move forward.
For the following month she entertained a veritable procession of town planners, architects, civil engineers, archaeologists, historians and museum curators from various interested organisations who on learning of the history and potential of the ‘Old Harbour Street’ and the rediscovered ancient lock staircase, became ecstatic about the potential.
Three months later the planning permissions arrived through the Harbour Light’s letterbox and Dot and Sam eagerly studied the drawings.
“Well it’s pretty much as we imagined it. I like what they anticipate for the ancient flight of locks and I note that they’ve planned for a lock from the basin into the river. It’s much narrower than that the old tidal opening so that will improve the basin’s mooring capacity. I never thought to offset the new lock to provide herringbone moorings for seventy-foot narrow boats.” Dot enthused.
“They’ll have to excavate the old ancient flight first to determine what length those locks were originally.” Sam added.
“Well the canal doesn’t have any locks behind the town and the canal only extends but a dozen miles inland. Though there is potential to build an extension to the old Trenton Canal if that is ever re-opened.” Dot opined.
“Yeah, ever the dreamer,” Sam chuckled. “I Can’t see that ever happening.
“Not in my lifetime,” Dot lamented, “I love canals.”
Like all dreams and government plans. The planning and legal procedures took another nine months to complete and it was the spring of the following year before Dot and Sam began to see action.
On the agreed date, the councillors gathered for yet another ‘junket’ and amidst much fanfare the first excavations were started. It had been decided the excavate the ancient flight of locks first to determine any dimensions that could affect other work and to the delight of Richard and Bob the town planners, the excavations revealed that two seventy-foot locks could easily located where the ancient chambers used to sit. The canal trust also expressed their pleasure about the revealed space and a lottery grant quickly aided in the construction of the two locks.
Naturally the archaeologists were spread all over the whole site and the Harbour Light pub became the inevitable lunch-time gathering place where both navvies and academics mixed for meals and discussions. The Harbour Light saw a huge increase in revenue which contributed substantially the buying of the Stables for Dot and Sam’s expansion plans. ~~~~~~~~~~
Dot and Sam3
Dorothy Philpot. Landlady of The Harbour Light pub
Sam Philpot. Drag-queen.
Billy Parkins Doorkeeper.
Jessica Merlot The town’ and county archaeologist.
Josephine MacDonald The town and county archivist
Richard Drummond Town planning inspector
Robert Vincent. Junior planning inspector.
One Sunday evening in the late summer, Dot was leaning with her hip against the back of the bar in her regular corner by the till. It had been a bank holiday weekend and the harbour Light had extended the drag show entertainment to include the Sunday night.
The ‘girls’ had decided to make it an Elizabethan drag night and they had gone all out with voluminous dresses and extravagant hats. Needless to say all the famous characters from the Tudor history managed to make their appearances and Dot was chuckling at the staged ‘argument’ between Good queen Bess and Mary queen of Scots about executions.
As the evening closed, Dot watched the girls from the archaeological societies, making their way to the Porta-cabins provided for the sleeping accommodation. As the girls picked their way across the muddy site, Dot noticed a girl try to squeeze herself between the Stable doors beside the pub then she slipped inside out of sight. The doors had started to sag on their hinges and were in need of restoration after the constant use during the past summer holidays.
Dot knew that any recent ‘finds’ awaiting examination and confirmation, were stored upstairs in the stable loft and, whilst there were no priceless antiques in the loft, there was some stuff of archaeological interest and value to the county and town museums. Indeed, several rusted artefacts had served to confirm or deny a couple of historical theories about the town’s early history.
‘I wonder what she’s up to?’ Dot wondered as she took the keys and a torch to investigate.
Using the proper keys, it took but a moment to slip silently inside the stables and pause to listen, before she heard the soft sounds of somebody up in the loft. Dot debated whether to confront the girl herself or call the police when the sounds up in the loft stopped. Dot strained to hear any more noise but none came so she crept silently up the stairs and paused at the top to take stock. She hesitated to switch her torch on at first but in the deathly silence she finally discerned the soft sound of slow regular breathing.
From the soft wheezing sounds it was apparent that the sleeping girl was either asthmatic or had a chest infection so Dot risked switching on her torch to low power. Although Dot was intimately aware of the layout throughout the stable, the torch guaranteed silence as she picked her way to a stack of large packing cases. There she noticed a gap and on shining the torch into it she saw a sleeping bag with the girl still deeply asleep. From where Dot stood the girl had arranged a comfortable ‘bash’ inside the packing cases and she was now ‘sending home the cows.’
On a packing case beside her head, Dot noticed a small asthma pump set close by. It was obviously to address any asthma attacks during the night.
On realising that the girl was not interested in stealing any of the items found at the digs and knowing that the girl was working regularly as a volunteer on the archaeological dig, Dot decided to creep away and tackle her in the morning.
“Where did you get to?” Sam asked as she shared a cup of tea with Billy the bouncer.
“I’ve just been to the stable next door. The big double door was not secure so I relocated the cross-bar on the outside.”
Sam just nodded and proffered the mug of tea as Sam noted.
“That’s where they keep all the finds from the dig.”
“Yeah but nothing of value, for instance the bronze Tudor cannon went straight to the museum.”
“Well that’s history.” Sam observed. “It’s solid bronze and must weigh a ton. They weren’t going to leave that lying around.”
Dot nodded reflectively and sipped her tea as she considered the girl in the stable loft. She obviously wasn’t stealing but she wasn’t sharing in the communal accommodation and Dot was curious to know why. Tomorrow, she would visit the site and chat to Jessica, the county archaeologist leading the dig. With that Dot made for bed and Sam quickly followed her.
The shared cuddles quickly preoccupied the pair and Dot was soon asleep in Sam’s arms.
At six, Dot was up with the lark and she released the bar on the stable door. Immediately a very stressed young volunteer emerged looking guilty.
“I’ll chat to you after breakfast young lady.”
Panic in the girl’s eyes told Dot there was a story to be told but she had her morning routine to complete and it was ten a.m., when Dot arrived at the dig. Jessica had not yet arrived but the enthusiastic diggers were busy in their own little sections and Dot soon recognised the scruffy cut down Jeans of her illegal lodger as she was bent over an interesting section of dressed stonework.
“Part of the inner cill I think,” Dot offered quietly as she slipped into the excavation ostensibly to examine the stonework.
“The girl’s face shot a frightened stare at Dot as the landlady bent down to maintain some degree of privacy.”
“Yes! It’s the inner cill.” The girl swallowed nervously as Dot leant right in.
“So, would you like to explain?”
“It, it’s a bit private.”
“So are my stables,” Dot replied. “They’re private property and not licensed for bed and board. Why are you sleeping behind the packing cases up in the stable loft?”
“It’s private.”
“I know it’s private, especially when the doors are locked but why do you choose to rough it up in a dusty old stable loft when there’s perfectly good accommodation provided by the council in the porta-cabins? You do realised there’s a serious fire hazard until the stables are converted into a café. The sprinkler system has not been installed yet.”
“I don’t mean that kind of private,” the girl explained, “it’s private to me; - for me that is.”
“Do you mean personal privacy?”
“The girl nodded mutely.”
“Go on.” Dot pressed. “Are you saying you’re embarrassed to undress in front of the other girls or something?”
She nodded again.
“Why?” Dot frowned slightly.
The girl looked up and stared wistfully at the porta-cabins on the far side of the basin that the council had thoughtfully provided for the students to live on site. Dot had signed an agreement to provide food for the students so, during the summer months and college vacation, the archaeologists had formed a vibrant and happy community of mostly girls of college age.
Each evening the Harbour Light rang to the enthusiastic chatter about items found during the excavations for the locks. Still the girl remained silent.
“Well?” Dot pressed softly. “Which college are you from.”
“I’m not,” the girl mumbled almost inaudibly.
“What?” Dot asked again softly for she recognised the girl’s obvious fear. “Your saying you’re not from any college.”
The girl nodded and almost slumped into the area she was examining. Dot extended an arm to catch her then sat her on the stone cill and motioned to Jessica.
“This one seems to have taken ill Jessie; I’ll take her to the pub to recover.”
“Are you sure, there’s a first-aider in the admin cabin.”
“Nah, I’ll see her right, just give me a hand to get her out of the dig.”
“Jessica was a strong sturdy girl who played rugby on weekends so she and Dot had no trouble helping the girl around the basin to the Harbour Light. When Dot had lain her down unconscious on a settee Jessica studied her pale features and asked.
“I’ll get her details when she recovers. We’d best call an ambulance.”
Dot pulled a smile of warning.
“Do you know who she is?”
“Not intimately, I presumed she’s one of the group of students who the council employed for the summer excavation. I’ll check with the register in the admin cabin.”
“I think I’d better chat to her first. She’s coming around. You get back to the dig, the girl’s located what looks like the carved stone inner cill of the lower lock.”
Ever the professional and keen to examine the girl’s find Jessica replied.
“Oh that’s important, it would cause quite a stir because it will give us the length of the lock and a reference point to plan ahead.”
“Well get to it Jess. I’ll see to the girl. She’s got no obvious injury to her body though I think she might be undernourished. There’s no weight to her.”
After chatting briefly about what little was known about the girl, Jessica left as Sam was returning from town. She asked Dot what was going on.
“The girl feinted. I’m waiting for her to recover, there’s no obvious injuries. She was about to tell me something before she collapsed.”
“If she’s unconscious we should call the hospital.” Sam advised.
“Yes, we’ve got that in hand. It’s a one-oh-one call, not urgent; but first, I’d like a quiet chat with the kid. Something’s not right. Can you see to bottling up behind the bar while I sit with her and try to find out what’s wrong?”
“If she’s not fully awake in ten minutes, we’re calling the nine, nine, nine emergency casualty.” Sam declared firmly.
“If you say so darling. I’ll sit with her until then.”
Sam left and within a couple of minutes the girl came around.
“Where am I?”
“You’re in the Harbour Light darling. Lying on my settee. D’you want a cup of tea?”
She sat up and looked around uncertainly while Dot stepped into the kitchen whilst keeping the girl in sight. Within a couple of minutes she brought a mug of sweet, milky tea with some biscuits and the girl took them gratefully.
Once the girl was resettled Dot asked.
“So, Miss mystery. What were you going to tell me before you so inconveniently passed out.”
The girl hesitated in silence with the mug clutched in both hands and Dot took the moment to briefly appraise the girl.
‘Bout sixteen, maybe seventeen; but a young, somewhat undersized seventeen. Skinny but not seriously undernourished, skin a bit spotty and hair poorly maintained but she was clean except for the mud on her legs and the ingrained dirt under her broken nails; probably caused by digging in the dirt.
Her ’cut-off’ jeans and tight vest had all the hallmarks of frequent hand washing while her boots seemed quiet new despite having been tramping in the mud. She was wearing a bra that wasn’t really necessary but the band and shoulder straps fitted reasonably well. Her hat had obviously been bought at a charity shop and finally her frilly ankle socks showed a nod to femininity despite the mud staining the ringlets of lace.
Dot sat silently appraising the girl’s condition and demeanour but not making it obvious. Eventually the girl became uncomfortable with Dot’s silence and she shifted uncertainly as she reached forward to set her empty mug down on the low coffee table.
“What?” She demanded irritably.
“I’m waiting.” Dot replied softly without any tone of aggression or inquisition.
“Waiting for what?”
“Well, your name for starters; which college sent you and what subjects you’re studying. A home address would help too, you look a bit peaky and we might want to advise your parents.”
Dot noticed the girl tense slightly and she surmised the girl had been expecting this.
“It’s all on the work register in the admin cabin.” The girl replied.
“I’m sure it is, and Jessie’s over there checking you out. But why the hesitation. Are you in some sort of trouble?”
“Why d’ you ask?”
“I’m asking the questions, young lady. Now, please, your name?”
The girl seemed to slump imperceptibly so Dot took a more conciliatory tone.
“Look kid. I’m not the police, nor am I the social services but I can’t just keep calling you ‘hey, you’!”
The girl chewed her lip and finally conceded her name.
“It’s Georgina, friends call me Georgie.”
“Georgie,” Dot mulled the name over before replying.
“That works, so why the stable loft? The porta-cabin beds are much more comfortable and cleaner. Plus the lavatories and showers are close to hand. So once again, are you in trouble? I don’t think you’ve broken any serious rules here so far.”
“I like my privacy. I’ve got some problems.”
“Privacy problems?” Dot asked intuitively.
Georgie nodded silently as Dot nodded . Then Dot had a sudden flash of insight.
“This privacy, is it anything to do with nudity?”
Georgie raised weary, nervous eyes as she nodded and Dot slowly realised the issue. She had not been looking for other issues but now she smiled encouragingly.
“And would this nudity have the initials LGBT somewhere in the picture.”
Georgie curled up on the settee as a tear squeezed itself down her cheek.
Dot looked down at the foetal figure and sighed as she scolded herself for not having clocked Georgie’s condition earlier.
‘She of all people should have seen it!’
She sat down on the settee and stroked Georgie’s back as she encouraged her to sit upright.
“So your name is Georgie and your dead name’s George.”
Georgie nodded and asked for another cup of tea. Then Dot realised, Georgie had not had a breakfast. This was an excellent opportunity to break the ice. She stood up and re-entered the kitchen as Sam reappeared with the tea-towel in her hand.
“Bottling’s done; coffee I think.”
“Brunch I reckon. Dot replied directing a significant glance towards Georgie.”
Sam caught the significance as Dot patted her stomach and nodded towards the girl.
“Oh!” Sam nodded imperceptibly. “Full Monty is it?”
Dot nodded as she turned to Georgie.
“D ‘you fancy a full breakfast?”
Georgie hesitated before nodding gratefully.
“I can’t pay you.”
“Don’t be stupid girl. I’m not blind. How long have you been homeless?”
“Six months, since I was sixteen and a half.”
“So you’re what? Just turned seventeen then?” Sam observed. “Did your parent’s throw you out?”
“My step-dad did. My mum and real dad broke up when I was nine. The step-dad moved in later and then things turned to shit when I realised I was different. I’ve been looking for my real dad since the step-shit threw me out. I Know he’s believed to be working in these parts.”
“So you’re living rough and looking for him.” Dot finalised Georgie’s story.
Georgie nodded as Sam observed.
“But he could be anywhere in England, - or Scotland or anywhere.”
“Yes,” Georgie confessed in a small tight voice.
Sam sighed as she started to make a meal for the kid.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Dot and Sam 4
Dorothy Philpot. Landlady of The Harbour Light pub
Sam Philpot. Drag-queen.
Billy Parkins Doorkeeper.
Jessica Merlot The town’ and county archaeologist.
Josephine MacDonald The town and county archivist
Richard Drummond Town planning inspector
Robert Vincent. Junior planning inspector.
Georgina. (Georgie) Homeless Transgender girl.
“There you are kiddo, fill yer boots.” Sam suggested as she placed a laden plate in front of the girl.
Georgie’s eyes widened appreciatively as she chose her cutlery. Dot said nothing but noted that the kid at least knew how to hold her knife and fork. Then for the next twenty minutes the only sounds were Georgie’s cutlery on the plate and Sam running the hoover over the stone slab floor. Dot chose to do some book-keeping by entering the previous night’s takings in the lap-top ledger on the breakfast table while it enabled her to keep an eye on Georgie.
She cleverly timed it to finish just as Georgie scraped her plate clean.
“You can’t eat the pattern love.” Dot grinned, “but if you’re still hungry there’s toast and marmalade or jam; with more tea or coffee?”
The fractional hesitation told Dot that the girl’s innate good manners were preventing her from asking for more so she grinned widely.
“Oh for god’s sake girl, don’t be so bloody shy!”
And so saying, Dot sliced off a couple of ‘door-steps’ that just about fitted into the toaster.
“It’s fresh bread, baked this morning. Sam makes a big thing about her bread and Jam. Local pure butter too, so go on, fill up. Now, coffee or tea?”
“Tea please.”
Dot topped up Georgie’s mug and pushed the sugar bowl across. She had already noted that Georgie liked her coffee sweet and milky so the milk jug quickly followed.
“Thank you,” Georgie croaked softly for her throat had filled up with suppressed tears of gratitude.
Several minutes later, Sam called from the bar.
“The ambulance is here. Does she still want to go and get checked?”
Georgie looked at Dot and asked.
“Do I have to?”
“Best that you do love. Feinting fits should not be ignored in a young-un. If everything’s okay, come back to the pub and we’ll see about sorting stuff properly.
“But I, -.”
“Don’t worry, here’s your bus-fare back, that is if you want to come back.”
Dot and Sam watched the ambulance depart then exchanged thoughts.
“D’ you think she’ll come back?”
“Dunno Sam, no skin of our noses either way.”
“I was beginning to like her.” Sam confessed
.
“Well, we’ll find out soon enough.” was Dot’s answer as they set to preparing for the regular lunch time crowd.
The first crowd to hit the pub was of course the female student archaeologists who descended like locusts on the pre-prepared food laid out on the trestle tables al-fresco because the day was warm and sunny.
This was followed very quickly by some newer mostly male clientele, who had learned about the bevvy of pretty female students wearing mostly boots and cut-off jeans with vest tops or halters. These men were mostly plant operators and laborours who had started the work of site preparation around the basin once the archaeology was explored.
Dot smiled to herself as she contemplated just how men could be suckers for a flash of leg or cleavage.
“Still.” She reflected with a smirk. “It was good business for the ‘Harbour Light’ and every penny helped towards their plans for the stables.”
Later at noon the regular ‘office crowd’ appeared and Dot and Sam greeted the more familiar faces.
By two pm, the regulars were returning to work as Dot and Sam were clearing up. At five pm they were closing up except for the evening food laid out especially for the archaeologists. This was paid for by the local town council and the county council who were keen to get the site declared ready for development.
As they watched the students returning for their evening food Dot remarked to Sam.
“I’d hoped Georgie would have returned. Seems she’s decided to move on.”
“Pity that,” Sam replied. “She seemed like a nice kid.”
The pair exchanged mutual looks of mild disappointment and stepped up to the service table ready to ladle out food army style. They knew their food was really appreciated by the hungry, student horde who were queuing up by the temporary water stand to wash their hands before eagerly collecting their favoured foods. It had taken only a couple of days for Dot and Sam to discern what were the favoured dishes and it pleased the pair to see that there was very little wastage.
An added bonus was that the workmen who were preparing the site prior to development, had learned that good food was occasionally being thrown away and they quickly availed themselves of the remaining food each evening. Dot and Sam discovered that the men were prepared to pay for well prepared and plentiful food. So the entrepreneurial pair started ordering their own extra supplies and selling it to the workmen for an additional profit.
By six pm Dot and Sam had concluded that Georgie wasn’t coming back so they closed up the restaurant and only kept the small public bar open for the students living in the porta-cabins.
The following morning Dot received a phone call.
“Hello; The Harbour Light.”
“Hello. Is that Miss Dorothy Philpot?”
“Ye-ess.” Dot replied cautiously for the friends all called her Dot. This call was obviously some sort of official call.
“This is the General.”
“Hospital?” Dot queried, for everybody locally referred to the General hospital as ‘The General’.
“Yes. It’s the casualty department. We received a patient here yesterday and we kept her in. She’s severely underweight, almost emaciated.”
“Oh, the girl Georgina. Yes we called an ambulance because she collapsed here yesterday morning. We gave her a breakfast then the ambulance came. Is she okay?”
“We’re keeping her in for a few days for observation because she’s malnourished and she feinted,”
“I see,” Dot mused, “are there any other problems?”
“She’s got no infections thank god but she’s got a couple of old hairline fractures that point to some serious physical abuse within the last few months. She won’t talk about them so there’s not a lot we can do. Fortunately there’s been no bone deformity so we can expect a simple turn around once she’s properly nourished. Do you know she’s transgendered?”
“I do but you should not have mentioned it to me, we here at the pub are not her next of kin.”
“I understand that but she gave the Harbour Light as her abode. Do you know her back-ground. She was not prepared to tell us anything. She said she’s estranged from her family and she was only prepared to tell us that she had been staying at your pub.”
“I don’t know much about her;” Dot confessed, “we only had a brief chat as she wolfed down the breakfast we gave her. I could see she was a bit skinny but I just put it down to an under-developed filly-ish late adolescence. When she told me she was ‘trans’ I presumed she was dieting to arrest puberty. Kids sometimes do that; especially if they’re living rough.”
“That’s not a good thing,” the doctor opined.
“I know,” Dot responded slightly irritably. “I’ve walked the transgendered walk myself you know. That’s why the kid opened up to us. Will she be able to return to the Harbour light? We’ve got several unused rooms.”
“We’d prefer for her to return to her true home. That’s what social services are pressing for.”
“I rather think not. She told me that her step-father threw her out because of her transgender issues. She’s been living rough since her sixteenth birthday. Did she have any recent bruises or other tell-tale signs of abuse?”
“Apart from the hairline fractures we also found evidence of a very old, dislocated shoulder but she said it was in a struggle with her step-father when she was fourteen.”
“And you still want to send her home?” Dot almost shrieked.
“Well;” the doctor conceded, “not now, not after what you’ve told us. Where was she sleeping then? When you found her that is.” The doctor pressed.
“She was sleeping inside a stack of packing cases in the stable loft down here at the Harbour light.”
“Oh! Is that were they’re digging out a medieval tidal basin?”
“Yes, she’d sneaked her way into the archaeological work team by pretending to be one of the students on the dig. She was availing herself of the food and washing facilities but avoiding the porta-cabins because she’s transgendered. The county Archaeologist said she worked well and nobody had cause to criticise her work.”
“Joining the dig was a smart move.” The doctor observed.
“Yes, the kid’s a smart cookie. I suspect the archaeologist would take her back if she returns to us.”
“Would you take her back? I’ll refer you to the social services if you’re prepared to house her.”
“If they’re okay with it and Georgie’s okay with it, I’d give her a trial run. The S.S., can help her with housing benefits if that needs sorting.”
“Of course. To tell the truth, I think the S.S., will tear your arm off. Older kids with problems are always hard to sort out.”
“Perhaps I can visit the hospital while she’s still interned. She must be worried by the uncertainty.”
“Yes. I’ll check if the patient is happy and take it forward.” The doctor finished.
The following day, Dot checked to ascertain her visitation rights and was pleased to learn she was listed as next-of-kin. She visited Georgie in the mid- morning then later in the afternoon to meet Georgie’s social worker.
They gathered around Georgie’s bed and the social worked could readily see that the girl was much more at ease with the transgendered landlady of The Harbour Light Inn.
“You understand Miss Philpott that I have to inspect your premises; what with Georgina being sixteen.
“She’s nearer seventeen but be my guest. She’ll have her own ensuite bedroom and live in with us B & B style.”
“Are you happy with this arrangement Georgina?”
“Will I get housing benefits? I can’t afford hotel rates.”
“If everything is satisfactory, you won’t be paying anything.” The social worker assured her.
“She’s right,” Dot reassured her. “You’ll certainly not be paying hotel rates, and we’ll be sorting out some sort of Benefit allowance with the DHSS, but without the delights of DHSS Hostel Neighbours.” Dot elaborated.
A flicker of relief betrayed Georgie’s feelings and the SS worker noticed the surreptitious squeeze of gratitude as Georgie sneaked her fingers around Dots wrist. She stood up with a satisfied sigh and smiled for she wished all her cases ended like this one.
“Well, I suppose there’s no time like the present to check your offer Miss Philpott. Shall we go.”
“Oh! So soon?” Dot exclaimed.
“Needs must Miss Philpott. They’ll be discharging young Georgina tomorrow. Pressure for beds you understand.”
“Aahyy.” Dot sighed and nodded. “To horse, to horse then.”
“An hour’s driving through ‘the school run’ found both cars drawn up at the Harbour Light and the Social worker inspecting the Harbour Light’s rooms.
“How old are these rooms? She asked Dot.
“The pub’s in the Doomsday book and I believe quite a bit of it goes back that far. That’s because it’s built on the only rocky outcrop hereabouts and consequently never moves. The foundations are stone cemented on rock and there’s not a trace of old wooden pilings like the old town’s foundations. That place is a bit like Venice but without the sewage. Builders often find they have to replace old sunken pilings hundreds of years old when they undertake renovations.”
“Fascinating. You’ll have to show me around the excavations some time. Is it true they’ve located the old medieval canal.”
“Yes, that’s where those sheet piles have been driven in. Now they can actually excavate the old canal lock in the dry, then rebuild a modern replacement in concrete but with the appearance of an old Dickensian lock. It looks brilliant in the council plans. Those old gabled ware-houses are being refurbished sympathetically so the basin will look like a Christmas card. If you come back on Saturday, I’m sure Georgie will give you a full tour she’s right into archaeology. The county archaeologist is quite enamoured of the kid.”
“Really, what’s the girl like academically. Possibly returning to school and such like?”
“I honestly don’t know, if you collect her from hospital, you might be able to probe her feelings. She seems a bright kid.”
“I’ll do that. Would you be prepared to support her emotionally, you know, loco in parentis and all that?”
“Can I do that? or more correctly can Sam and I do that? We’re a transgendered couple don’t forget.”
“The kid’s transgendered herself. So why not, her straight parents haven’t served her well have they?”
“Well there is that, I suppose,” Dot conceded. “I’ll have a good long chat with her tomorrow when you bring her here.”
“My thoughts exactly, by the way, she’s looking for her biological dad.”
“I know.” Dot nodded. Me-thinks she’d stand a better chance with a safe place to work from and good access to the internet. Apparently she loved her dad.”
“I’ll amend her file and mark her card.” The social worker advised, “there’s several organisations who help relatives find each other.”
Having laid the groundwork, the pair separated and Dot helped Sam finish up for the night. The following morning Dot was talking to Richard and Bob the town planners as they discussed the umpteenth change of plans subsequent upon the archaeological discoveries.
“They might as well have just delayed the development work until the archaeology was completed. Dot chuckled.”
“No there’s too much conflict between what the bore-holes find and what the students find. We all knew this was going to get expensive.”
“Thank god for the Lottery I say.” Sam chuckled as she crossed the soon-to-be-excavated harbour street, with a tray full of mugs and chocolate oaties.
The planners eagerly dived into the biscuits then looked about as the social worker’s car arrived with Georgie riding ‘shotgun’
Georgie was out of the car in a flash and streaked across the mud caked slabs that paved the old harbour street. Dot grinned for it was obvious she had some exciting news.
“The social worker says I can go back to school while living with you.”
“Yes, we discussed it briefly last night. D’ you want to go back to school?”
“I’d love to! I’m a year behind though.”
“That’s not a problem.” The social worker explained. “Provided you’ve got a secure place and a stable arrangement, we’ll support you.”
Georgie flung herself at Dot and squeezed her desperately as Dot felt wet tears on her blouse.
“Thank you, thank you. I won’t let you down,”
Dot returned the embrace and allowed Georgie the necessary long intimate interval while the Social worker looked on and smiled. She had no experience of LGBT relationships and had always tended to see them through a sexual lens. It was an eye opener to learn that substitute, transgendered parental relationships could actually take root and grow in what she had usually considered to be a barren puerile freneticism.
It gave her much food for thought to see a sixteen/seventeen-year-old transgender actually emotionally involved with a thirty-five-year-old transgendered adult in a strictly parent child relationship.
Once the emotional moment was completed, Georgie turned to Richard the senior Town Planner.
“Can I show Betty my case-worker around the site before you close up for the night? She’s brought some wellies.”
“Very well. You know it as well as anybody but take care. The concrete footings to the bottom basin cill have just been poured.
~~~~~~~~~~
Dot and Sam 5
Dorothy Philpot. Landlady of The Harbour Light pub
Sam Philpot. Drag-queen.
Billy Parkins Doorkeeper.
Jessica Merlot The town’ and county archaeologist.
Josephine MacDonald The town and county archivist
Richard Drummond Town planning inspector
Robert Vincent. Junior planning inspector.
Georgina. (Georgie) Homeless Transgender girl.
Georgie needed no more encouragement. She recovered her boots from the trunk of the Social worker’s car and quickly got prepared to go ‘on-site-. As Dot watched, she realised the social worker must have purchased a new set of trainers for Georgie while collecting her from hospital. The filthy worn-out pair that Georgie was wearing going into hospital were nowhere to be seem
She briefly watched Georgie confidently leading the social worker from place to place then she busied herself with pub duties. An hour later Georgie reappeared in the bar. The social worker shared a drink with Dot while Georgie settled for a very weak shandy and they chatted around one of the bar tables while Sam attended to customers.
“Tomorrow, I’ll bring the fostering papers to sign and we’ll discuss returning to school.”
“Fostering?” Georgie frowned uncertainly.
“It makes for easier administration.” The social worker explained, and you get a better personal allowance.”
Georgie gave a brief, nervous smile.
“But I get to stay with Dot and Sam?”
“Yes. Now you’ve got a home to go to, the protocols are satisfied. So, if you don’t mind, I’ve also got a home to go to, so I’ll say goodnight.”
They might not have been the best words to say to a homeless teenager but it reminded Georgie that she did at least, now have a home to go to. The case-worker left and Georgie followed Dot up to the bedrooms.
“Which one is mine?” Dot hesitated on the landing.
Dot pointed to the one furthest across the landing while explaining.
“These other rooms along the corridor look out onto the forecourt and the basin. They are noisy when the pub is open. That one overlooks the river and the road, and the sun comes in during the evening. If you’re serious about returning to school, that’s the best and quietest bedroom to study.”
Georgie opened the door and gaped at the double bed.
“Is that for me?”
“Yes and two windows facing South and West. Plenty of space to stare pensively at the moon and stars when you’re studying.”
Georgie giggled slightly as she stepped fully into the room then she stopped short.
“Is that a -?” Her voice faltered.
“Bathroom! Yes. Your own en suite.” Dot grinned”
Georgie’s eyes started to fill up so Dot reached out and hugged her tightly before tactfully letting go while explaining supper would be at seven.
“Best to let the girl sort out her emotions alone at first.” Dot concluded as she returned to the kitchen to join Sam.
“Is she happy?” Sam asked.
“She’s a bit overwhelmed, I think,” Dot observed, “and she’ll need some new clothes.”
“I’ll take her tomorrow, you’re hopeless at shopping.” Sam grinned.
“No I’m not. I’m just functional and practical.”
“Yeah! Just what a teenaged girl needs.” Sam smirked.
“You can take her shopping while I go down to the SS and sort the papers." Dot allowed. "Rachel the chef and the waitresses can keep shop for a couple of hours in the afternoon. They’ve done it before. It’ll be a few extra quid for them.
The following afternoon, the fostering arrangements were finalised and that evening, after the restaurant was closed, Dot, Sam and Georgie had a small celebratory meal to seal the deal.
~~~~~~~~~~~
Over some mid-morning coffee the next day, further details were finalised with the case-worker. Georgie was pleased to learn that the SS had enrolled her at the local sixth-form college as a girl so there would be no younger kids making unwanted remarks about her being an L.G.B.T., student.
“The good news is that it’s July now so you can start school at the beginning of September.” Her case worker advised her. It’ll give you some time to earn some money in the Harbour-light restaurant.”
“I’m excavating at the dig so I’ve no time to work the tables and I’m too young to do anything but be a bottle girl in the pub. There won’t be many pickings.”
“Perhaps not but your adoptive parents get an allowance for you. Speak to them about splitting it. Some for your keep and some to you as ‘pocket money.”
Later, Georgie considered this advice as she busied herself at the dig. She and two other girls were stood at a large metal grill sifting through the tailings that the deep excavators were casting up near the foundations of the first deep trench near the medieval lock cill.
“The excavator is right down in the deepest, undisturbed clay here,” one of the other girls explained. Don’t expect much archaeology here.”
“Yeah, but at least we’re not up to our butts in mud and water.” The third girl chuckled.
“True.” Georgie agreed. “So less cleaning before drinks at the Light.”
Their name for the Harbour Light had been universally shortened amongst the students to ‘The Light’ because Dot and Sam had affixed a powerful sodium streetlight to illuminate the area between the pub and the student’s porta cabins. The mud and deep holes necessitated the extra illumination which the students had come to regard with affection as ‘The Light;. It also served to illuminate the pub’s outdoor forecourt which was a welcome spot during the warm summer evenings.
Thus it was, during the months of July and August, that Georgie spent an Idyllic summer until the Archaeology was finished and builders arrived in force.
One late summed evening, Georgie and Sam were sitting on the new boundary wall that marked the space between the basin sea-wall and the pub’s newly agreed boundary.
“Here must be masses of unexamined archaeology where they’re digging,” Georgie remarked as she and Sam watched the excavator filling the barge that floated in the river behind the cofferdam that kept the basin dry while the engineers refurbished the old quay walls.
“Oh, I’ll bet there is," Sam agreed, "but time’s getting on and they need to excavate all the basin before winter arrives.”
“Are they going ahead with a river lock or will the basin remain tidal.” Georgie asked Sam.
“Dot was talking to the council and planners about that, yesterday." Same explained. "If they can squeeze some more Lottery funds from the Euro lottery it’s feasible they’ll build the lock.”
“We ’ll have to raise this forecourt, boundary wall then, or there’ll be drunks falling in every weekend.” Georgie sniggered as she tapped the flat-topped wall they were sitting on.
“Crikey! Am I hearing a responsible teenager.” Sam laughed.
“Well there’s been two stupid drunks already slipping into the basin. Thank god it wasn’t very far down.” One of the laborours and I had to help one of them out of the mud as we were coming back to the pub.”
“Yes, that’s why Dot put the light there. At first the planners felt it wasn’t in keeping with the proposed ambience of the basin but they conceded when Dot switched it off and she suggested they walk from the pub to the Porta-cabins.”
“Lots of pubs have bright lights to advertise their location. I like it, and the pub is a real feature when you approach from the road.”
“Well if they put a river lock in, they’ll have to put some sort of pedestrian swing bridge across the pier-heads for boats to pass.” Sam finished as she tapped Geordie’s arm to indicate the first tranche of students approaching for their dinner.
Pretty soon the pub forecourt tables were alive with hungry girls who were lamenting the last few days of archaeological excavations before the contractors started in earnest to rebuild the basin walls; mostly with the valuable, recovered dressed stone that had been discovered buried in the basin mud when it had been filled in to make Old Harbour street.
Once the girls were fed and the washing up completed. Dot, Sam, and Georgie settled down to their own evening meal in their own kitchen.
“So Georgie, back to school tomorrow.” Dot remarked. “Are you looking forward to it?”
“The school looks nice and modern. I Hope they’ve got modern views.”
“Well the social services will protect you there. Teachers are loath to fall foul of the SS, your caseworker will give you huge support there.”
"Yeah; she's good. I like her." Georgie agreed.
“Yes, and the social services have got a lot of legal clout.” Sam added. “The school will be walking on eggshells.”
“Well, tomorrow’s the acid test.” Dot confirmed. “Any problems and you’ve got us behind you.”
“Yeah.” Not like my step-dad.”
“Well, that’s behind you now. The fostering agreement will protect you. Have you had any luck looking for your bio-dad?”
“No, nothing much. Thanks for the old lap-top by the way.”
“No problem,” there’s new one on the way, the fostering services advised me yesterday.”
“So I’ll have two?”
“Yes, just make sure they are secure from hacking.”
The three of them continued chatting until Georgie made her way to bed and she lay ‘star-fished’ on the crisp, linen sheets contemplating her luck.
For the first time since coming to terms with her transgenderism, Georgie was actually keen to be going to school. It entailed a mile walk down the road from the Harbour light to the Main road where the regular bus route passed. There she would have to signal the bus to stop. The following morning when she boarded, she noticed the immediate interest from some boys so she took a seat at the front next to the driver and adopted the defensive mode of peering intently into her phone. To her relief, other students attending another school walked past her and climbed to the upper deck. Because Georgie was not wearing a school uniform they had no cause to think she was a student.
It was not until she disembarked that other students realised she was also going to the sixth form college. It wasn’t long before some other girls approached her after realising she had not attended the middle school with them in the previous years.
“You’re new aren't you?”
“Yes,” Georgie confirmed whilst exchanging a brief but non-committal smile.”
“What subjects are you taking?”
“Sciences, probably, and maths.”
The girls' expression soured slightly.
“Oh, you’ll probably end up meeting my twin brother, he’s over there. I’m doing history, economics and geography.”
“Which way to registrations?” Georgie asked.
“Follow me,” the girl grinned as she extended a hand to indicate a set of double doors.
Georgie soon found herself in a queue outside a door labelled ‘options’. The queue proved to be moving quickly and she was soon seated opposite an older man who seemed a little world weary.
“And the day has just begun,” Georgie reflected silently.
“Name young lady?”
“Georgie, Georgie Philpott.”
“You’re choosing maths I see.”
“Yes, and sciences.”
“Which ones?”
“Physics, Chemistry, and Biology,”
His eyes widened and a glint of interest sparked in his eyes.
“A tough choice. What were your GCSE grades?”
“Straight A’s”, she replied unfolding her newly reproduced results that Dot had recovered from her previous education authority.
“The man studied them and nodded some approval.”
“I’ll sign you up immediately. Philpott eh? Not a local name.”
“I’m from the north.”
“Nobody’s perfect, young lady." He grinned for the first time. "How are you finding it down here?”
“It’s easier. People seem to be less cliquey.”
“It says here you’re living at the Harbour Light Inn.”
Georgie nodded, anticipating some unwarranted remark but it didn’t come. Instead, he nodded towards the physics queue and signed the acceptance form for Georgie to present and be amended by the teacher handling the queue. For Georgie, the whole process was over by ten and she found herself at a bit of a loose end.
However, pretty girls and ‘loose ends'; rarely endure in any school and by the time Georgie had bought a strong black coffee in the dining hall, a hopeful had tried to attach himself to her.
“So what’s a pretty girl like you doing in a place like this?”
“Maths, Physics. Chemistry and Biology. What are you doing.”
The hopeful smile slipped considerably at Georgie’s smart but prosaic response though the boy persevered.
“Art, English literature and media studies.”
“Oh, so our paths won’t be crossing much.” Georgie finished hoping to let him down gently.
“Do you have any outside interests or stuff?” He pressed.
“Not much, just waitressing and serving tables. I don’t get out much.”
“D’ you like music an’ stuff?”
Georgie gave him a fatuous look and wagged ger head while rolling her eyes.
“What teenager didn’t like some kind of music?” She asked herself as she speeded up her slowly wagging head to a give a negative answer.
“Not much. I tend to play with numbers not instruments.”
Not to be dissuaded the boy struggled on and Georgie had to admire his tenacity.
“I saw you on the bus this morning. Do you live on the Marshland estate?”
“Not likely!” Georgie affirmed strongly. “The idiots who built that estate are asking to get flooded.”
“Nah, it’s tidal, there’s nowhere that the waters get obstructed because the river flows freely out to sea.”
Georgie’s eyes widened. “Perhaps the boy wasn’t all ‘arty-farty’,” She mused.
“So, you did geography for GCSE’s?”
He nodded then nursed his coffee as he grinned.
“Yeah, I must have tramped through every sodding mudhole in that estuary for my dissertation.”
“So why the change to ‘arty-farty’ subjects?”
“I don’t intend to go tramping through mud for the rest of my natural. So if you don’t live in the Marshland estate where else is there. The only other place that’s safe from flooding is that old tidal basin where they’ve been digging out this summer. The old pub and the ware-houses.”
Georgie gave him a knowing look and cocked her head inquisitively.
His jaw sagged slightly.
“What! You live in the pub; the Harbour Light?”
She arched her eyebrows and stared at him.
“And?”
“But that’s a gay pub. Two old lesbians run it.”
“Two old lesbians and a teenager, - me." She smirked. "And less of the old.”
“Are you gay then?”
Georgie smiled wryly than shrugged.
“Not as far as I know, I could be I suppose.”
“It’d be a waste if you were.”
“Was that supposed to be a compliment?”
“Well you’re pretty. Several of the boys on the bus were fancying you.”
“So they sent you as their ambassador did they?”
“Well; sort of.”
“Safe pair of hands are you?”
“Sort of. I’m gay.”
“Can I say that seems like a waste as well?”
“Alright, touché.”
Georgie was becoming slightly peeved with the direction the conversation was taking and she was relieved to see the girl she’d met earlier. She waved to her and the girl came over. She spoke to the boy first.
“Hi Bobby. Started dating girls now have you?”
“Leave it there Marty, we were just talking.”
“Did you learn her name?”
“Uuhm, no. What is your name by the way.” He replied turning to face Georgie.
“Georgie.” She replied, “short for Georgina.”
“With that the shutters of the serving hatches rolled up and a queue began to form.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Dot and Sam 6
Dorothy Philpot. Landlady of The Harbour Light pub
Sam Philpot. Drag-queen.
Billy Parkins Doorkeeper.
Jessica Merlot The town’ and county archaeologist.
Josephine MacDonald The town and county archivist.
Richard Drummond Town planning inspector
Robert Vincent. Junior planning inspector.
Georgina. (Georgie) Homeless Transgender girl.
Bobby Gay boy on the school bus.
Marty Girl on the school bus.
At the end of Georgie’s first day at the new high school, Dot stood impatiently in the doorway of The Harbour Light with the tea-towel gripped tightly in her fretful hands.
“Stop fretting girl, she’ll be okay,” Sam said softly as she came up behind Dot and gently took her wrist to cause her to ease her grip on the tea-towel.
“I can’t help worrying about her. You hear such awful things.” Dot croaked as the tension took her throat.
“She’ll be okay girl, I’m sure she’s managed the day. Look, isn’t that her just coming round the bend by the bridge?”
Sam felt the tension relax in Dot’s shoulders as she almost slumped against the ancient doorpost.
“Yes!” Dot squawked as she waved furiously at the distant figure approaching.
The distant figure waved back and Dot let out a sigh of relief as she studied her charge.
“Yes there was definitely a bounce to Georgie’s step!” She concluded as she called back into the kitchen to tell Sam to put the kettle on.
“Already On girl!” Sam called back. “Go and meet her if you want to show joy at meeting her.”
Dot needed no further encouragement and the two met a hundred yards from the pub.
“How did it go darling?” Dot demanded as she threw her arms around Georgie.
“It was okay mum. I’ve got all my classes organised and the school seems okay.”
“No bullying? No nastiness about your LGBT stuff?”
“No Mum. Nothing. I haven’t mentioned it and I passed okay. Nobody knows but you and Sam.”
“And the headmaster.”
“I never saw him all day. They’re having the first assembly tomorrow but nothing special. It’s an ordinary school day.”
They chatted briefly until Sam met Georgie in the pub bar and they savoured some tea and scones from the batch that Rachel the shef had prepared for the restaurant suppers.
“Have you made any friends yet?” Sam asked.
“Not yet,” Geordie grinned. “I’ve met a girl who gets on the bus after me and a boy who gets on before me at the Marshlands estate. We’re on speaking terms but I’m taking things slowly.”
“No trouble though?” Sam double checked.
“No.” Georgie protested mildly. “What’s with all the protective stuff.”
“You’re a very pretty girl love,” Sam explained. “You’re going to have to work doubly hard to fend off the boys. God forbid if any of them find out your trans. Have you considered transitioning.”
“I think about it every day, but I need to chat with some more doctors. I also need to find out who the best surgeons are. My caseworker said because I’m seventeen we can start to set the wheels in motion. The best news is that the SS pay for my surgery”
“You’re lucky you look so young.”
“Just me I suppose, I’ve not gone through much of a puberty. The boys always used to make fun of me back in the old school.”
“Well, if you are trans, count yourself lucky.”
“Of course I’m trans! What makes you think I’m not?”
“I never said you weren’t. I said if you are.”
“Why! Do you doubt me?”
“Not at all, but only you can know exactly what you are. All Sam and I can do is provide material support.”
“What about emotional support. Parental support.” Georgie demanded.
“That only comes when you need it, when your distressed of frightened. For now it seems you’re okay. Your first school day went well and now your home amongst friends.”
“Well yeah, for now that is; but you will be here for me won’t you? – If I need you?
“Of course we will. Now go and do your homework.”
“We haven’t been given any yet but they’ve given me the books and some memory sticks for my lap-top.”
“Well up to your bedroom then. Start as you mean to go on. Supper is after the restaurant closes. You can eat with us after the restaurant closes or pick and choose while were working.”
“Will I have to work on the tables every day?”
“Not on school days. Your best days to work tables are Friday and Saturday nights working as the bottle boy. You’ll get paid by us by the hour and the waitresses share their tips. The prettier you look, the more tips you’ll get. You can also work behind the bar provided Sam or I are supervising so don’t forget, a nice smile will earn a pretty girl lots of tips.
The barmaids have elected to save the tips and share them out at Christmas. I don’t interfere with their arrangements and Sam organises the figures with Lucy, the red-headed senior waitress. There’s a ten percent service charge on all debit or credit cards and that goes to the waitresses as well.”
On learning this, Georgie almost scampered up the wooden stairs that led up from behind the bar to the long landing upstairs. Once in her room she flumped down onto her double bed and luxuriated on top of the duvet to unwind for a brief spell. Before going down again she transferred the study timetable to her mobile and sorted a few other items. Seven o’clock saw her down in the bar looking to help Dot for she had no homework on the first day.
The rest of that week was spent adjusting to school life and familiarising herself with the school campus. She was secretly glad that Marty had chosen to befriend her while Bobby the gay boy served to filter out any excessively puerile interest from the ‘back-seat - hormonal crowd’. As she had come to think of the sex starved boys.
On that second morning Georgie asked Marty as she boarded the bus.
“I thought you said you had brother; a twin.”
“Oh he jogs in early. It’s only two miles where we get the bus so he saves his bus fare as extra pocket money. He registered last term so you’ll meet him in your biology class this morning.”
Thus by the end of the first week, Georgie had settled in nicely.
The first Sunday evening was her first full break. Her homework was completed and the Sunday lunch session was over by three. Georgie chose to go for a walk up into the town via the excavated cutting where the ancient canal was being re-cut. To this end she chose her archaeology work clothes to walk through the mud.
As she emerged from the top of the locks she saw Bobby staring down into the excavated basin.
“What’s a nice boy like you doing in a mud-hole like this?” She grinned as she unlocked the gate in the security fence.
“How come you’re allowed a key? He asked.
“I've been working the archaeology excavations all summer and I have access to the pub stables because I live in the pub and the stables are now part of The Harbour Light. It’s tantamount to my back door to my home.”
“If you’ve got the keys to those stables we could organise a rave there.”
“No we couldn’t.”
“What, you’re telling me you disapprove?”
“Disapprove or not. That’s my home and I owe it to the landladies.”
“Ooo-oh! Who’s a goodie-two-shoes then?”
“Yeah! Wha’r-ever.” She shrugged as she pocketed the key in her backpack and set off purposefully towards the old town centre.
Bobby watched her go and made his way to the bus-station on the other side of the old town. There he met his friend Marty. They talked briefly about Georgie and he told her he had trouble reconciling such a bright and beautiful thing with being such a straight-laced old maid. They decided to go looking for her the old town but Georgie had already left.
After she, had completed her stroll around the old town she had returned home to enjoy a shower.
While drying her hair, she went online to run her nightly searches to find her biological dad. She found a couple of potential leads and threaded them into her search matrix. Then she reset her search filters and left her computer in search mode while she went to sleep. She had not given anybody her email address in school for experience had already taught her that trans people were vulnerable. Additionally, she did not have a ‘website’ because this attracted unwanted and indeed, possibly dangerous attention.
The following morning, Bobby asked Marty if she had Georgie’s email address.
“No. She hasn’t given it to me.”
“Will you ask her for me?”
“Ask her yourself.” Marty riposted.
“She didn’t want to give it to me.”
“What d’you mean?”
“I met her accidentally last night where they are excavating the old tidal basin. She wouldn’t give it to me.”
“Oh. You didn't tell me you'd met her when we chatted. Did she say why she wouldn't give you her email.?”
“She says she doesn’t want every Tom, Dick or Harry knowing her email and If she gave it to one person it would be around the college like wildfire.”
Marty smirked knowingly.
“Well, she’d be right on that wouldn't she? She’s pretty and you know what your mates are like. They’re just glands just looking to dump their shit.”
“That’s not fair.” Bobby protested.
“Come off it Bobby. How many partners have you had?”
“That’s different; I’m gay and gays have lots of partners.”
“Yeah. Well girls don’t. Apart from getting pregnant, girls don’t like the idea of sexually transmitted diseases like AIDS and syphilis. Apart from ruining their health it can affect their babies as well.”
“So you won’t help?”
Marty snorted.
“How does getting her email help you, your gay so you’re not likely to sleep with her.”
“Yeah, but it’s a bargaining chip innit.”
“That’s even worse. Selling her info to your sex-crazed mates. Well if she refused to give it to you, it’d be wrong of me to give it to you.” Anyway, she hasn’t given it to me either, so case closed.”
“She doesn’t seem to give much away does she?”
“Yeah, well maybe she’s had internet shit before; you know. Boys pestering her then getting ratty and abusive because she’s turned them down.”
“D’ you think that’s why she’s changed schools.”
“No, more likely because she’s changed homes. I mean, why has she moved in with the two old lesbians at a gay pub?”
“I think she’s related to one of them.” Bobby opined.
“Well, whatever the reason, she’s not telling and I’m not asking.” Marty concluded
At lunch time they met in the school dining hall and several hopeful boys joined Marty and Bobby’s small clique of LGBT friends when they noticed Georgie arriving late at Marty’s table.
“Extra lessons?” Marty grinned as Georgie grabbed a chair.
“Nah, we’ve had chemistry all morning and my experiment ran late. Your brother’s a twat.”
“Why?” Marty sighed.
“He’s more interested in looking down my blouse than looking at the results and figures.”
“Yeah, that’s my brother. What are you going to do?”
“Try and change lab partners. He tried to feel me up as well.”
“Oh shit. Are you going to report him.”
“Nah! I frightened him off.”
“How?”
“I threatened to report him to the Social Security, the S.S.”
“How does that work?” Marty wondered.
“I’m a fostered child. The lesbians who run the Harbour light, agreed to foster me and social services almost tore their arms off because I was sixteen and difficult to place. They’ve got me down as a homeless child who was at risk in the family home and they’re red hot on my protection. If some twat tries to harm me, the S.S. will come down on them like a ton of bricks. And the S.S. have almost as much power as the police. Your brother was a very lucky bastard that I didn’t report him.”
“I wondered why he was moody just now.”
“Don’t worry. He’s got the message now. Don’t mess with this girl; - in fact, don’t mess with any girl in the school.”
Marty had mixed feelings about this. Her brother had acquired something of a reputation as ‘one of the boys to watch out for’, but he was after all, her brother. Nevertheless, her new-found friend had an arm-lock on her brother’s unacceptable behaviour, that suited Marty and she changed the subject.
“Are those two lesbians okay towards you?”
“They don’t abuse me, if that’s what you mean. I’ve got a good billet in their pub and I intend to keep it, at least until I go to Uni. I have my own bedroom and ensuite, not many foster kids get that.”
“Are they strict though? You know. Working in a pub, are you allowed to work in a pub?”
“Yes, now that I’m seventeen; and as for rules, well there are laws about seventeen-year-olds working in pubs so it’s not a matter of strict parenting, it’s a matter of the law.”
“D’ you like it?”
“Yes, I get to meet the most amazing people, drag queens, gays, trans people, lesbians and all sorts; even the police. Yet I’m protected by the licensing laws and even the child protection laws. There’s always a responsible adult looking out for me, Usually Dot Philpott, the land-lady. Best of all is that the police drop by most Friday and Saturday nights and they know about me. If I behave like an adult, they treat me like an adult.”
At this juncture, Marty had to return to lessons while Georgie had a free period and made her way to the library. As she took some books out of her locker Marty’s brother approached her in the corridor.
“Can I talk to you please?”
Georgie tensed slightly and stepped to the middle of the corridor where she was publicly visible to lots of passers-by.
“What about? – and why?”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Dot and Sam 7
Dorothy Philpot. Landlady of The Harbour Light pub
Sam Philpot. Drag-queen.
Billy Parkins Doorkeeper.
Jessica Merlot The town’ and county archaeologist.
Josephine MacDonald The town and county archivist.
Richard Drummond Town planning inspector
Robert Vincent. Junior planning inspector.
Georgina. (Georgie) Homeless Transgender girl.
Bobby Gay boy on the school bus.
Marty Girl on the school bus.
Jack. Marty’s twin brother (Keen runner).
In the centre of the corridor, Marty’s brother immediately recognised Georgie’s defensive manoeuvre as that of a streetwise girl knowing to find a well exposed and public place; the school corridor was certainly that. If he was going to at least manage an apology he needed to speak fast before she blocked him.
“Look I’m sorry if started off on the wrong foot.”
“Yeah. You can say that again. Just stay away from me okay!”
“But we can’t work together in the lab if you’re going to avoid me.”
“Don’t worry I’m getting that sorted. By Monday next week we’ll each have different lab partners.”
“Can we just start again. I was a twat this morning.”
“Once a twat, always a twat.”
“But to change partners, you’ll have to report me.”
“Duh!”
“That’s a bit over the top.”
“So is grabbing my boobs, a bit ‘over-the-top’ as you call it. It’s sexual assault.”
“But it wasn’t that bad.”
Georgie almost screeched. “Yes it was! You just don’t get it do you?”
Her deafening protest caused several heads to turn, and Marty’s brother cringed in fear. Fortunately for him there were no staff in earshot, but it still left him terrified that Georgie would follow through with her threat. With his hands trembling he fumbled to store away his books but when he turned again, Georgie had stormed off down the corridor to the library. He decided not to follow her but instead thought to try to approach her when his sister was with him on the bus. Instead he used his free period to do some running on the track to compensate for the run home he would not be taking.
Ordinarily, he would have gone to the library but he did not want to encounter Georgie again and be accused of harassment or something..
At the bus stop that afternoon, he saw Georgie talking to his sister Marty, so he decided to back off until they had boarded the bus. As he waited at the back of the queue, he prepared a note to hand to his sister on the bus. He was hoping she might act as some sort of go-between. The queue for the bus was a relatively orderly affair because the bus for the junior school had departed earlier with the younger kids.
Once the main group had boarded, Marty’s brother, Jack, slipped silently behind them and as the group were choosing their seats, Jack pushed a note into Marty’s hand before slipping upstairs. Marty frowned then uncrumpled the note as she sat alongside Georgie.
As Marty squinted at the crumpled letters, Georgie peered over.
“Whassat”
“It’s from my bro’”
Georgie turned to look away and out of the bus’s window as Marty read it. She then explained the nature of the letter to Georgie.
“He desperately want’s to speak to you, to apologise.”
“Yeah. Well just tell him to stay away and keep his hands to himself.”
“He’s worried about you reporting him.”
“He’s right to be. I’ll speak to my foster mum about it tonight. Maybe she can sort it. I might go off on one if the head gets the wrong idea and tries to accuse me of provoking your brother.”
“Wrong idea? Wrong idea about what?” Marty wondered.
“Never mind. My mum and my case worker will sort it.”
“Will my brother be expelled.” Marty asked nervously.
“I shouldn’t think so. I’ll explain to my foster-mum Dot that it was a typical teenaged stupid thing and I’ll let it go, provided I don’t have to get close to him at the laboratory benches.”
Marty fell silent. Like most girls she did not like uninvited attentions or violations of her person but Jack was her brother after all.
The pair sat in silence until they reached Marty’s stop then, as Jack clumped down the stairs he leaned over Georgie and whispered ‘Sorry’ again before hurriedly following his sister off the bus. Georgie frowned with slight amusement as she heard Marty scolding her brother as the bus pulled off.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
On the Thursday during a lessons break; Georgie was sitting on a low wall chatting to Marty when the school secretary approached with a brown envelope. She handed it to Georgie with a smile.
“This is from the headmaster’s office, strangely it’s addressed to you not your parents though the headmaster tells me he has sent a covering letter to your foster-mother and your caseworker.”
Georgie opened the letter as the secretary hesitated then she sighed. The secretary became concerned and asked.
“Is there anything I can do?”
“No thank you Miss, I’ll sort it tonight with my foster mum. Thanks for bringing it.” She finished as she handed the letter to Marty.
When the secretary left, Marty scanned the letter before responding.
“So, he has to apologise in writing to you.”
“If that’s all he has to do, he can count himself lucky. He’s obviously had a letter from the head and I suppose your parents have as well.”
“They won’t be pleased.”
“He can count himself lucky that the head did not involve the police. I asked Dot to ask the head to keep the police out of it. My case-worker agreed provisionally, so that’s one crumb of comfort for your brother.”
“So what’s this thing about you having a caseworker. Were you in child-care then?”
“No. I ran away from home. Dot found me sleeping rough and called the social services. When the SS started to talk about taking me home, I refused and they had to find a placement for me. I’d been working on the archaeology dig during the start of the summer so Dot told the SS that she’d put me up because she knew of me through the archaeology team leaders. The rest is history and here I am living at the Harbour Light.”
“A gay pub!” Marty exclaimed. “Is that why you ran away from home? Are you gay then?”
“No, not exactly. And that’s enough questions.”
Marty was intrigued but knew when to keep her mouth shut. She reckoned that Georgie would tell her in her own good time if she ever felt the need to. That evening, Marty helped her brother compose the letter of apology.
As they chatted over the letter Jack lamented.
“I’m an arse-hole. I really fancied that girl.”
“Well she is pretty,” Marty conceded. “I suppose every seminary gland in the college drips when they look at her.”
“Martha! That’s a terrible thing to say!” Their mother snapped angrily.
“She’s right though mum.” Jack added. “I thought it was Christmas when she was partnered with me in chemistry.”
“Well let this be a lesson! Girls don’t like being groped! I thought we’d brought you up to be better than that!”
“Be serious mum,” Marty observed. “We all know boys can be arseholes. It’s only when they become men that they realise women are not slabs of meat. Respect for women; that’s what defines the men from the boys.”
“Alright enough please,” Jack sulked as he held his pen poised; “let’s finish this letter.”
After completing the letter he turned to his mother and sister. “How am I supposed to deliver this?”
“The same way it was delivered to you; via the school secretary. That way you’ll avoid any contact.”
“I was hoping to give it to her myself. A sort of reconciliation – apology thing.”
“I you want to give it to her yourself; you’d better pick a place where it’s obvious there’s no possibility of close contact.” Marty suggested. “But first we’d better check with the headmaster.”
“I’ll phone the head in the morning,” their mother declared, and that was how the situation panned out.
Marty spoke to Jack during the morning break and they agreed that Jack would hand his letter to Georgie while she was queueing for the bus home.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
As Marty and Georgie chatted in the bus queue, Jack unexpectedly appeared in his running kit and paused momentarily to extend his hand and offer the letter.
Georgie paused before she realised what he was doing as he explained.
“It’s my letter of apology. Take it please.”
She took the letter but before she had a chance to speak, he just said ‘SORRY’ quite loudly before running away at much faster than ’jogging’ speed.
Georgie turned to stare in surprise at Marty then shrugged.
“Well It’s an apology of sorts I suppose.”
“He’s done what was demanded. He kept contact to a minimum while publicly apologising.”
Marty’s reply was confirmed by the numerous stares and grins on the other girl’s faces in the queue.
“Aren’t you going to read it out to us?” One girl laughed.
“Bugger off!” Georgie replied. “Case closed,” she added as she pushed the envelope into her bag.
Those words gave Marty some relief as the bus arrived for she could at least convey that small piece of good news to her brother when they met again at home. Her brother was off the hook. She parted with Georgie at her usual stop and watched the bus depart for the old town where she knew Georgie got off at the end of the lane that led to the Harbour light.
“The following morning was a Friday and the routine had returned to normal. Georgie boarded at the end of her lane, Marty boarded several stops closer to town and Jack resumed his morning run from home to school morning and evening.
Some weeks, later when Jack and Marty had their seventeenth birthday, their parents decided to exercise their newly acquired statutory rights to drink with their meal and they duly booked a table for the Saturday night at The Harbour Light. When Georgie noticed the booking she wondered why Marty’s family had chosen The Harbour Light. Then she silently scolded herself with a grin, she knew as well as Dot and Sam, that their pub had become a popular venue.
As a precaution Georgie asked one of the regular waitresses to swap jobs for that night and Georgie ended up working the bar. This precluded her meeting Marty or Jack but could involve meeting their parents if they chose to order drinks at the bar. Marty had secretly hoped Georgie would be waitressing and she was disappointed to see her friend behind the bar laughing and joking with the drag queens. Both Jack and Marty looked enviously as Georgie laughed and joked and shared the adult banter whilst simultaneously working the hectic routine behind the bar.
There was one pleasurable moment however when Georgie took her break and visited their table unexpectedly.
“Hello. Is everything alright with the food?”
“Yes thanks, it’s delicious.” Marty’s father enthused.” Are your Marty’s friend at school?”
Georgie nodded and smiled as she gathered some plates and returned to the kitchens on the way back to working behind the bar. It was obvious that The Harbour Light was hectic on Saturday nights and Georgie had little time to share with Marty’s family. The family eventually finished their meal and chose to sit out in the newly extended courtyard where they could legally finish their drinks. This was an area where the staff would take their breaks and the drag queens could sit between their acts whilst mingling with the customers. It was a very popular venue with the regular cliental and Marty’s parents watched fascinated whilst the waitresses relaxed and exchanged banter with the drag queens.
At this juncture, Sam entered amongst a bevy of drag queens and sighed comedically as she reached down to unbuckle her heels.
“She reminds me of Lily Savage!” Jack whispered to his mum.
“Is she really one of Georgie’s adoptive parents.” Their father exclaimed with amusement.
“Yes, but she’s fun!” Marty explained. “Georgie’s spoken of her wit lots of times. Hush, here’s Georgie again.”
Georgie emerged from the bar with a large tray of drinks and set them down on a large table where the drag queens and the serving girls each took their chosen drink. Then Georgie slumped into a chair beside her ‘Aunty Sam.’
“Where are your friends love?” Sam asked her.
Georgie nodded to the family and Sam immediately hobbled over in her ‘flatties.’
“So. You’re Marty, Georgie’s friend and the birthday girl.”
Marty became a bit flustered for Sam was by now something of a local celebrity.
“Me and my twin brother.” She managed to croak.
“Well a friend of Georgie is always welcome here,” she declared while motioning to some of the staff. “Come on you lot. Get these tables connected. We’ll make this a proper party!”
There was brief commotion while the furniture was rearranged then everybody was soon returned to their seats and Sam demanded a chorus of ‘Happy Birthday.’ The table soon erupted into song and celebrations were soon in full swing. Then, to Marty’s and her family’s surprise, Dot appeared with a large birthday cake. Amid whoops and squeals of delight, the candles were lit and both the twins were invited to blow. Then Sam stalked amongst the crowd and ordered everybody in the pub to sing a second chorus of ‘Happy Birthday.’ Both of Marty and Jacks parents were amused and impressed to see how a noticeable sense of community had grown up around the Harbour Light since it’s reputation as a ‘gay pub’ had developed.
Next, Sam provided an Impromptu drag show on the wide dividing wall and invited both Marty and Jack up on the ‘stage.’ There ensued some banter and teasing that broke any last vestiges of Ice and the party consequently endured until ‘late’ the following Sunday morning.
At five o’clock, a taxi arrived to ferry Marty’s family home.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Dot and Sam 8
Dorothy Philpot. Landlady of The Harbour Light pub
Sam Philpot. Drag-queen.
Billy Parkins Doorkeeper.
Jessica Merlot The town’ and county archaeologist.
Josephine MacDonald The town and county archivist.
Richard Drummond Town planning inspector
Robert Vincent. Junior planning inspector.
Georgina. (Georgie) Homeless Transgender girl.
Bobby Gay boy on the school bus.
Marty Girl on the school bus.
Jack. Marty’s twin brother (Keen runner).
On the Sunday Georgie was stretched out on a wooden steamer chair in the early evening sun doing some homework, when she suddenly sensed somebody standing some distance behind her in the low cut-away entrance of the boundary wall. She twisted her head to look and met Marty’s familiar smile while she was holding her bicycle.
“Oh! Hello, come in, no need to stand on ceremony.!
“Hi Babe’s.” Marty grinned as she stepped forward.
“D’ you want an orange juice or a cup of tea?” Georgie offered as she pushed herself up out of the chair.
“Can I?” Marty grinned expectantly.
“No prob girl, what brings you down to the old homestead then.”
“I’m just paying a social call and to say thanks for Friday’s Party.”
“Great! D’ you want one of these chairs. I’ll get one for you.”
“Yes please. Where’s Dot and Sam? I see the place is all locked up.”
“They’re out on the estuary bird-watching with some friends. This is their and my free time.”
“So you’re in charge.”
“Well, I’ve got my own bunch of keys if that’s what you mean.” Georgie explained as she unlocked the door from the bar to the personal lounge.
Marty followed her in and leant her butt against the work-top while her friend quickly made some tea. Soon they were lounging again in the steamer chairs and sharing tea and biscuits.
“What homework were you doing?
“Maths and physics.” Georgie replied as Marty nodded knowingly.
“I left Jack doing the same.”
“So why aren’t you busy?”
“Well, I am actually. I’m looking for Material for my history dissertation. I thought this archaeology site with everybody poking around in the basin might inspire me.”
“Well it’s pretty much all archaeologicalled out.” Georgie grinned. The only likely places now are the top lock where they’re putting the cofferdam in to hold back the ancient canal where the new upper lock is going in. Then they have not decided about a river lock into the basin. Historically it was simply a tidal basin with a single simple gate.”
“Are they going to dig out the two holding ponds to the stairway? I’ve looked at the plans on the website.”
“There is talk but then there’s always talk. It’s all about funding. You want to talk to Jessie and Joe and Dick and Bob.”
“Who are they?”
“The county archivist, the county archaeologist and the two town planning officers.”
“Have you got their addresses?”
“I’ve got their telephone numbers but I’ll have to clear it with them first. I’ll chat with them tomorrow.”
“Oooh please! That’d be great!”
“D’ you wanna’ look around the site?”
“Is it allowed?”
“Georgie grinned and jingled her keys causing Marty’s eyes to widen with delight.
“Let’s go and look at the holding ponds. They’re talking of making two terraces if they don’t excavate them.”
“Which would you prefer.” Marty asked.
“Oh, I think it’d be far better to excavate them. They could provide four extra berths for some residential narrowboats, provided the boats are smart and well maintained. The ponds would also boost the frequency the staircase locks can be operated each tide.”
“Crickey I’ve just had another thought.” Marty enthused.
“Whassat.” Georgie wondered.
“There’s material for my other dissertation, economic geography and tourism.”
“Worthwhile trip then.” Georgie grinned. “Come on then, let’s go and look.”
“Glad to see you remembered your wellies,” Georgie grinned as Marty opened her bicycle saddle bags.
Within minutes, the pair were scrabbling up the old staircase locks then squelching through the waterlogged depressions where to old holding ponds had lain.
“Why is the upper depression longer than the lower depression?” Marty asked.
“I dunno girl,” Georgie replied. “It’s been at least two hundred years, perhaps somebody used it as a garbage dump.”
Marty walked over the centre of the higher section and grinned as she bent her legs and caused the whole section to sag and shudder.
“It must be soft mud or something, but it’s drier than the lower bits.”
“You just be careful you don’t get sucked down; god knows what’s under there.”
“It can’t be that deep.” Marty opined. It’s only a canal and the mud is very soft.”
With these words Marty’s foot plopped downwards and Marty found her right leg up to her thigh in the slimy mud.
“Oh shit! It’s hollow. Give me a hand to get out.”
Georgie let out an instinctive bellow of laughter and asked.
“What d’ you mean hollow?”
“I mean it. My leg is pressing against a branch or something and my foot is swinging free. It’s hollow!”
“Let’s have a look.”
“Nah! Don’t come near or you could fall through. Grab that big branch and lay it by me. I can hoist myself up on that.!
Georgie did as Marty suggested and pushed the branch out to rest across the whole mound. Marty then placed both her hands on the branch then brought up her free leg to slowly extricate her buried leg.
“Ugh, this shit stinks.”
Georgie sniffed the air and concurred.
“We’d better get you cleaned up. Good job you didn’t lose your wellie.”
They left the branch to cover the hole to discourage other kids and returned to the Harbour light.
“We’d better hose you down first in the yard, then you can have a bath.”
“Thanks.”
When they got to the pub courtyard, Marty decided to save the liquid in her wellie because it was a strange purple colour and smelt disgusting. Georgie took a jam jar from Sam’s collection and they put the jar safe in full view on the courtyard wall.
“What is it,” Georgie asked as Marty held up the glass.
“I dunno’, you’re the chemist.”
While Marty was showering, Dot and Sam returned home with several of the birding friends. Georgie met them downstairs and Dot asked.
“Who’s upstairs?”
“Marty, She fell into some weird stuff up by the holding ponds. She’ll be down in a minute and I’ve lent her a change of clothes.”
“Okay. Let’s fix some food for our guests.”
Within twenty minutes the birders were chatting around the big table about their day on the Marshes and Marty reappeared freshly changed. Then their attentions turned to the jam jar with the bright purple muck. Finally, one of the birders was an industrial chemist and he opined that it looked like some early type of vegetable dye. On concluding this, they returned to the holding pond to have a closer look. After some cautious probing and excavation of the ‘bump’ they started to expose and old canal boat with several large, stone, wide-necked amphoras. Marty’s foot had plunged straight through the decaying cover to dip into the vegetable dye.
On realising that they had found some old industrial artefacts, the group agreed not to disturb it anymore and Dot contacted Jessica and Josephine the county historians. They described what they had found and the next Morning the council team were investigating the sight.
“This place never ceases to amaze me,” Jessie enthused as the old hatch-boards of the boat were gently exposed then removed to expose about twenty glazed-ware amphoras all intact and with seemingly well-preserved contents.
The general opinion was that Dot’s chemist friend might have been right. The boat had been carrying some sort of Victorian, vegetable dyes.
When Georgie returned that afternoon from school she was intrigued to see the archaeology team carefully extricating the amphoras and packing them ready for despatch to the regional archaeology labs at the university. Knowing that Marty had expressed an interest connecting her history project to the canal, Georgie called her friend then took a series of videos of the newly opened site. Less than an hour later, Marty was visiting on her bike. The pair wasted no time exercising Georgie’s privilege to explore the site and they chatted at length with the county archaeology team.
“Yes, most of the boat is buried in the mud and relatively well preserved. We’re going to excavate it and examine its construction.” Jessie exclaimed as she smiled at the mud-streaked pair. “Now just remember every item must be carefully documented and located before it’s removed to the stable.”
“Will they preserve it like The Mary Rose or the Newport ship?” Marty asked hopefully.
“I doubt it unless it proves to be something special, but it still needs proper documentation. We’re hoping it’s mainly intact. This gloop is a good preservative.”
Marty indulged herself, feeling blindly in the mud along the submerged coaming while Georgie indulged herself by staying dry on the bank.
“I think I can feel a stem-post or stern-post; something upright anyway.”
“We think it’s the stern post.” Jennie explained, happy that Georgie’s friend was showing so much interest.
“Well if it is, it’s not very big.”
“She’s forty-nine feet so we think she just traded in the canal and around the estuary. Possibly along the coast during the summer, but not much further. She doesn’t appear to have a cabin.”
“Nor thwarts, Marty opined as she delved deeper into the sticky, soft gloop.”
“Well her construction will be revealed when we excavate. This gives us one excuse to excavate this pond even if we don’t dig out the upper.”
Georgie smiled at Jessie’s words, because she hoped the ponds would be used as narrow-boat moorings. Marty was happy that she had found a perfect project for her history dissertation with mountains of original material. She made sure that Georgie took lots of videos and stills of her probing in the gloop right up to her armpits.
“You’d better get yourself washed up girl. I’ll open the showers for you.”
“It’s alright Jess, she can hose down at the Harbour Light then shower in my room.
Content for the evening they went to hold a planning meeting back at the pub were Marty entertained them with her squeals as Georgie squirted the gobbets of gloop stuck to her arms and legs.
“You’ll have to borrow another set of my clothes,” Georgie chuckled as Marty traipsed delicately through the bar and upstairs to Georgie’s bedroom for a comfortable warm shower.
“When she returned to the table, the group was breaking up but Jessie gave Marty a schedule of the plan before she left.
“Come down any day you like. Just let the dig supervisor know when you’re on site.”
“It’ll be weekends mostly unless you find something interesting.” Marty enthused as she grabbed her bike and started home before the light failed.
“Jessie watched Marty go then turned to Georgie.”
“New friend is she?”
“School mate, but she’s doing history, geography and law for ‘A’s. This is a gift from the gods to her.” Georgie revealed as she helped Jessica load her van.
As dusk settled, Georgie started clearing the tables then went upstairs to do her homework. At dinner it was nice to chat about her day around the table with Dot and Sam and later she squirmed under her duvet with contentment as the night enveloped her.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Did you sleep well?” Dot asked as she appeared at the breakfast table.
“Yeah, once that owl quit.”
“They nest in the oak tree across the river.” Sam advised as she doled out some scrambled eggs and sausage. “Borrow my birding glasses if you want a good show. Our bedroom window is the best.”
“Nah thanks.” Georgie smiled. “I’d rather watch a lab experiment.”
“Each to their own,” Dot chuckled as the conversation ceased and they ate their food.
A few minutes later, Georgie was walking down the lane to the bus stop and twenty minutes later she was chatting to Marty on the bus.
“My brother still wants to apologise properly.” Marty advised her.
“Well not just yet but tell him I’ll agree to partner him in Chemistry to see if I can start to trust him.”
Marty’s face brightened appreciably as the bus pulled up outside the school.
“Thanks I’ll tell him right away. Will you speak to the head?”
“I’m going there anyway later, so It’ll calm the head down if it goes no further. He was terrified of the police getting involved.”
“I don’t understand you Georgie. We’ve all been groped by the boys normally we just slap their faces or scratch them. They soon learn the limits if they’re normal kids.”
“Yeah. Well for some of us, it’s a bit different. Just remember, I’m with the SS., and I’m fostered.”
“Did something bad happen?” Marty almost whispered.
“Not now.” Georgie replied as she took her lab coat out of her locker. “Someday I’ll explain.”
With these portentous words, Georgie bustled off towards the chemistry lab as Jack, still in his track-suit, met his sister. She gave a bright smile as she gave him the news.
“Your off the hook, but don’t you dare try anything, it’s strictly chemistry okay?”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Dot and Sam 9
Dorothy Philpot. Landlady of The Harbour Light pub
Sam Philpot. Drag-queen.
Billy Parkins Doorkeeper.
Jessica Merlot The town’ and county archaeologist.
Josephine MacDonald The town and county archivist.
Richard Drummond Town planning inspector
Robert Vincent. Junior planning inspector.
Georgina. (Georgie) Homeless Transgender girl.
Bobby Gay boy on the school bus.
Marty Girl on the school bus.
Jack. Marty’s twin brother (Keen runner).
In the Chemistry lab that morning, the teacher eyed Jack and Georgie setting up the experiment and she arched her eyebrows in puzzlement.
“Am I to presume that you have resolved your issues?”
Jack nodded his head while Georgie murmured a soft ‘yes’, almost akin to a whisper. Their subdued reticence gave a clear message to the teacher who responded with similarly subdued whisper.
“Might I suggest that you move your apparatus to the front bench. You’ll be more visible to me and other pupils to witness any issues if things become unstuck between you.”
They both saw the sense in the teacher’s suggestion and silently re-arranged their apparatus where the teacher directed. The lesson then progressed satisfactorily and at the end, the teacher checked all the pupil’s results and nodded with quiet satisfaction. It appeared she had a diligent class who took their subject seriously. She was doubly pleased that the ‘problem pair’ appeared to be working properly together and had indeed produced the most successful experiment. As the class was preparing to leave, she quietly congratulated them out of earshot of the rest of the class.
“Well done you two. That’s a good set of results; keep it up and thank you.”
Jack nodded respectfully to her and prepared to take his leave but Georgie responded more actively by asking.
“Why are you thanking us Miss?”
“Because I don’t want any problems in my class. Last year’s class were a nightmare, so if you two continue to work together as well as you did today, it will serve as an example to the rest of the class.”
Jack had paused to hear the teacher’s response and he sighed very slightly as he repeated his silent respectful nod and started to leave as he reflected.
‘At least he had managed to get through the morning unscathed.’
Georgie once again repeated “Thank you Miss.” Then left whilst keeping her distance from Jack.
In the crowded locker area she lost sight of Jack and did not see him until the afternoon maths session. In the interim, she met Marty in the dining hall.
“How did it go?” Marty asked.
“Okay, Miss Peabody was happy with our work and said so.”
“Where’s Jack?” She asked searching the faces in the dining hall.
“Dunn’o. I’ve got to go and see the head at twelve fifteen, so see you later.”
“Please go easy on my brother.”
“If he continues to behave like he did this morning, then things’ ll be fine.”
“Is that what you’re telling the head?”
“Yes. Now I’ve gorra’ go. See you on the bus.”
Marty watched Georgie pick her way amongst the tables and then she smiled inwardly with relief.
On the bus home Georgie was relieved to see that Jack had apparently resumed his usual running routine and she enjoyed an un-interrupted chat with Marty.
“It’s all settled with the head. Things can carry on provided Jack continues to behave himself.”
“Oh believe me he will,” Marty frowned, “dad gave him a real roasting. By the way, I’ll be cycling down later to see how the boat’s going. My history teacher’s given me a list of things to sort out with that archaeologist.”
“See you later then. I’ll be busy with homework until dinner so just visit the site and speak directly to her. Phone her though, to make sure she’s on site.”
Georgie watched Marty disembark the bus then gave her a little ‘finger-wiggle’ and a smile as the bus pulled off.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
In her bedroom at the Harbour Light, Georgie got stuck into her homework and by six she was out visiting the excavated site. There was no sign of Marty and everybody had left the site, so Georgie presumed Marty might be in the stables looking at any new artefacts. There she was happy to find Marty chatting to the chemist about the contents of the amphoras.
“Yes.” He explained to Georgie when she asked as Marty was inspecting the recovered samples. “ They’re mostly vegetable dyes from the seventeenth century. They give us a nice tie-in to the early development of aniline dies. We’ve dated these dyes from about the eighteen-twenties, so the canal must have been operational around eighteen-twenty. That’s a little later than we originally thought. Josephine, the county Archivist found some writing on one of the amphoras and she’s going through county archives to see if there’s any connections. She’s very excited about the find.”
“This is fabulous material for my dissertation!” Marty enthused, “cos the amphoras have got maker’s marks imprinted on the base.”
Georgie smiled at Marty’s enthusiasm and she stayed assisting both the chemist and Marty with their endeavours until Dot called through the newly opened doorway to the pub.
“Dinner’s ready! Tell your friends to clean up and they can share if they want.”
Both Marty and the Chemist needed no extra encouragement and the evening meal quickly became an excited discussion around Dot’s kitchen table.
“Will we be able to keep samples of the dyes.” Dot asked the Chemist.
“I can’t see why not, once we’ve established the degree of toxicity of them.” The chemist opined. “There’s plenty of it.”
“They would make an interesting display for the pub. Telling the history of the canal and stuff. Each sample in a labelled bottle in a cabinet with the light behind them and a description of events.. We intend to make this part of the pub something of a historical record of the basin so any historical artefacts are very much appreciated.”
“While you girls were at school today, there was a team examining the barge. They’re thinking of preserving it.” Sam added.
“Where?” Georgie asked.
“It’s not been decided yet. That’ll be the factor that makes or breaks the preservation issue. Jessie says the boat was not like a conventional narrow-boat. It has seagoing qualities and Josie is keen to find out where it traded to.”
“The old whare-house across the carpark entrance would be a good museum space.” Dot suggested. “There’s space enough for the boat to be stored, and a large exhibition window opening out to the old dock across the road would attract visitors. There’s plenty of parking where the old sand-boats used to tie-up.”
The meal ended on a high, hopeful note and Marty road home full of ideas for her dissertation. In her bedroom that Night, Georgie thought she might have found a connection to her biological father but she was too tired to pursue it further that night and the moment her head hit the pillow she was out like a light. The next day in school, Marty approached her to keep quiet about the events in the tidal basin. Apparently several other girls were still looking for dissertation projects and Marty didn’t want them invading her territory. Georgie secretly felt that there were several different aspects of the excavations that could provide several girls with alternative materials for different research subjects but she complied with Marty’s beseechments and stayed silent.
For the next two days, Marty had other homework to complete and she didn’t re-visit the dig until the Thursday. Georgie found her once again in the stable studying the most recent artifacts. At the dinner table, Dot brought them up to date about preserving the boat.
“They’ve agreed that the other warehouse is the best location to display the boat and they’re crowd-funding to raise the money.”
“Will the boat fit?” Georgie wondered.
“They hope to build a glass end facing the old dock that will also provide more light to study the hull. That way the old frontage facing the Basin will preserve the Victorian ambience of the Basin. They’ve also confirmed that the raised bow and stern point clearly to it having been a sea-going boat, but a very small one. Strictly coastal trading.”
“Where d’ you get all this info Dot?” Marty asked.
“They have lunch every day here in the pub. I chat with them while I serve their food.”
“When are they lifting it out?” Georgie asked.
“They’re leaving it in the mud for now and even burying it until the museum display area is built. Then they have to preserve the hull. Fortunately it’s only fifty odd feet long so there’s no big expensive palaver like the Mary Rose.”
“So let’s get cracking with the crowd funding.” Marty enthused.
At this juncture, Georgie saw a way to expand her circle of friends while not antagonising Marty’s friendship.
“D’ you know, Marty, if you told your classmates about the dissertation opportunities surrounding this boat you could get more people organising some crowd funding. There’s plenty of historical material and geographical stuff to supply several good dissertations.”
Marty’s eyes narrowed defensively as she demanded.
“Like what?”
“Oh come on. The unusual structure of a specialist boat, the chemical cargoes and the history of dyes, the local trade routes she might have plied, the history of the canal and the basin, the trades and materials that the basin handled, the archaeological excavations, the old whare-houses and their gable cranes across the basin: the list just goes on and on.”
“Hmm. I see your point,” Marty conceded.
“What’s more,” Georgie added, “you’ve got direct contact with the professionals researching the site and any material you gather can be shared around to each student doing different aspects of the history. It’s great opportunity to bring your friends together and I know there’s been some back-biting in your class.”
“Yeah, that’s true,” Marty confirmed. “There’s a couple of nasty pieces of work lording it over the rest of the class because they’ve got access to good stuff through their parents and relatives.
“Well if you get organised with your class friends, I’ll chat with Joe and Jessie about visiting the site.”
“If you need a place to hold discussion groups on site, you can borrow one of the spare bedrooms upstairs. No mud mind!” Dot offered.
The next night was Friday and Georgie was amused to see Marty’s classmates hanging around outside the pub. They were obviously curious about the locally famous drag shows so Georgie approached Sam.
“They can sit at the outside tables and spy through the open doors where we will serve them soft drinks but they are not allowed inside the bars. That’s the law, okay! I’m sure the drag queens will sit outside during their breaks, so if any of Marty’s friends want to ask them anything, they can do so during the girl’s breaks.”
Georgie related the news to the girls who eagerly crossed the threshold into the pub forecourt and grabbed spaces on the low flat-topped boundary wall where they could peer into the bar and just see the stage through the wide double doors that were pulled back to cool the bar. When Georgie next emerged with a tray full of soft drinks and pops, the girls eyes Georgie enviously.
“How come you get to see it all?”
“I live and work here and I have to earn my corn.”
This comment alone set the girls wondering as they watched Georgie busily serving customers and collecting glasses.
“But you’re the same age as us, seventeen.”
“Yes, but I’m working here and I live here. Provided Dot or Sam or Chef or Peggy the senior waitress is here, I’m legally supervised. Besides, I don’t drink and they can trust me.”
“You live in the wildest pub in the town but you don’t drink!?” Marty gaped.
Georgie just shrugged. “Yeah; crazy huh?” Then she disappeared to pop up behind the bar and start serving drinks. The girls just gazed enviously and fell to dividing up the items of interest for their separate dissertations.
Later some of the girl’s parents appeared and felt compelled to stay and watch the remains of the Friday drag show before collecting their still sober daughters. Eventually they drifted home in dribs and drabs as Georgie helped to close up while bidding ‘good-morning’ to Marty and her amused parents who were amongst the last to leave. The drag show had been a good one that night and Sam had excelled herself with her acerbic wit.
On the Saturday, Georgie was too busy with the restaurant lunches followed by the Saturday drag show which again extended into the mid-morning. Despite only getting to bed at six a.m., Georgie faithfully appeared at Noon on the Saturday and worked at the tables. After a brief nap early on Saturday evening, she put in a second appearance for the Saturday drag sow.
On Sunday however, she slept in. Dot and Sam allowed her that privilege when the Saturday night drag shows had been hectic; and that particular, previous show had. At noon on the Sunday, some of Marty’s classmates returned with their parents after having been so entertained by the drag artists. They sat down to a Sunday lunch and Marty asked the waitress where Georgie was.
“Probably still sleeping, she was still closing up at six.”
“Will she be putting in an appearance?” Marty asked.
“Not working,” the waitress explained, “Dot insists she gets a full day’s rest before school on Mondays.
Slightly disappointed, Marty’s family and their friends settled down to their Sunday lunch but it was their lively chatter that alerted Georgie as she slowly woke at one p.m.
“Why didn’t you tell me Mum?” Georgie protested as she frantically combed her hair.
“You needed your sleep girl; besides, you told me you’ve got a lot of homework this weekend.”
“Nothing I can’t handle.” Georgie riposted dismissively as she left their kitchen and stepped out into the restaurant.”
“Aah! Here she is, Rip-van Winkle’s daughter.” Marty cheered as Georgie pulled up an extra chair and poured herself some coffee.
“So you’ve finally surfaced then?” Jack hazarded as he cautiously tried to resume some sort of contact with the attractive Georgie.
Georgie squinted grumpily just like any teenager disturbed from her sleep but she said nothing and Marty moved to fill the embarrassing void.
“We were hoping to show our mums and dads what the excavations have produced. A sort of preview of Dot’s museum.”
“That can work, I’ll ask Dot.”
She left to return moments later with permission and the group finished their coffees to enjoy a guided tour.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Dot and Sam 10
Dorothy Philpot. Landlady of The Harbour Light pub
Sam Philpot. Drag-queen.
Billy Parkins Doorkeeper.
Jessica Merlot The town’ and county archaeologist.
Josephine MacDonald The town and county archivist.
Richard Drummond Town planning inspector
Robert Vincent. Junior planning inspector.
Georgina. (Georgie) Homeless Transgender girl.
Bobby Gay boy on the school bus.
Marty Girl on the school bus.
Jack. Marty’s twin brother (Keen runner).
As Georgie led Marty’s history group and parents around the museum-cum extended restaurant, Georgie found she quite enjoyed the experience as they asked questions. The only issue was making sure she kept clear of Marty’s brother Jack. There were two reasons for this; firstly she still had not completely forgiven him for groping her and secondly she did not want to get involved with any risk of intimacy or a relationship because of her transgenderism.
Only Marty and Jack recognised that Georgie was keeping her distance but neither were going to raise the issue amidst the group. Finally Georgie led them on a brief circuit of the basin excavations before finally bidding them good evening as the cool autumnal, chill started to descend.
“See you all tomorrow,” she exclaimed as the parents thanked her for being so helpful towards their daughter’s various history projects.
Content with her endeavours to sell the pub as an interesting location to dine out, Georgie grinned as she stood under the glow of the newly placed harbour lantern on the gable corner and waved as she watched the cars disappearing down the road,
With that duty done, she looked in on Dot and Sam to find that they had already scrubbed down for the night so she went up to her bedroom to do her homework. There she flung herself upon her bed and sat back against her pillows to boot up her lap-top. Then, as she did every evening, she searched her chosen sites to see if there was any responses to her searches. She had long become inured to disappointments as she scrolled down the pages each evening but this particular evening there appeared a small response about halfway down the list of sites.
“Hmm,” she mused, “what’s this?”
She checked that the site was safe and cautiously ran it through her search checker then confirmed it safe to open before reading the response.
“Hello George, I see that you are searching for a Trevor Aitkins, is your first name Edward and do you still use your original family name of Aitkins?”
Georgie felt a twist of uncertainty as she wondered if the message was genuine or if the web-site genuine. She hesitated fearfully as she debated what to do then finally she decided to take the plunge and messaged back.
“Please confirm my place of birth and date before I respond fully.” Georgie responded cautiously without revealing any other details, although the search site was programmed to block personal details.
Georgie had signed up to the site in her previous male persona after confirming that the search site was bona-fida. The message came back.
“My son’s name is Edward George Aitkins, he was born in Shrewsbury on March 20th, 1995.”
“That is my date of birth, what other details can you supply.”
“My wife and I got separated because she was unfaithful to me. I believe she remarried and moved to Birmingham. Her name is Lucinda, or Lucy.”
“It must be him!” Georgie told herself so she took the plunge.
“What is my sister’s full name?”
“Elizabeth Jane. She’s two years younger than Edward George. Born July 12th, 1997.”
After several other checks, Georgie was convinced it was her father because he supplied details only her dad would know. She took the plunge.
“I’ll contact you again tomorrow at eight o’clock’”
“Do you skype?” He asked.
“Yes but not at first meeting. I’ll arrange a meeting in a safe, public place first. Where do you live now?”
“I have not moved far; I live in Gloucester.”
“Okay, until tomorrow then.”
With this, she closed the site and gave herself a nervous hug. She had found her bio-dad! Now the issue was her transgenderism and how he might treat it. The following day, Monday, she was distracted in school. and Jack had to twice remind her to concentrate upon their experiment. At the first instance he was nervous about speaking to her about it but as the experiment progressed through the lesson, Jack realised that Georgie was obviously distracted by something. He was afraid to inquire why and did not ask.
Sometime during the afternoon Jack had obviously mentioned Georgie’s preoccupation to Marty because on the bus, Marty raised the issue.
“Cat got your tongue?” Marty asked her as they settled in their usual seat.
“Wha,’ oh sorry babe; nah, I’ve got stuff on my mind. Sorry.”
Marty fell silent for she’d also noticed that her friend had been pretty introspective all day. Instead, she asked to meet Georgie late that evening to check a couple of things about the excavations. Georgie agreed.
“Yeah, but take care, I don’t know what, if any, extra material has been extracted. I don’t want you falling down any new holes. I can’t go with you cos I’ve got to catch up on some home-work after yesterday with your friends and families doing their visit.”
“Okay.” Marty agreed.
When Georgie got home, she went immediately to her computer but got no reply and at first, she wondered if the person on the other end was playing her for a fool. Then she concluded if he was working, he might not get home until five, or six o’clock. Instead she plunged into her homework until Marty’s arrival distracted her. She handed Marty the key to the security gate and lent her their powerful torch.
“Take care, it’s slippy and ask Dot for the walkie talkie. I’ve got mine by the bed.”
“What! You use intercoms?” Marty grinned.
“The pub’s a big place and we don’t like to leave the kitchens unattended. If Dot or Sam need me they just call me on this. It works on the site as well.”
Marty did as Georgie instructed and tested it when she got to the excavation she wanted to look at. Once she’d completed her objective she returned to The Harbour Light and met Dot sat with Sam on the garden seats. As she returned the radio and the torch she asked where Georgie was.
“Up in her bedroom girl,” Dot replied, “doing her homework I suppose. Remove those muddy boots before you go up.”
Marty did as instructed but found Georgie’s bedroom door locked.
“Are you in there?” Marty called through the door.”
“Yeah! Hold on a minute I’m on a call.”
“Who to?”
“Never you mind, it’s private.” Georgie replied.
Marty stood back patiently for several minutes before Georgie opened the door and asked her in.
“Dare I ask who that was?”
“I can’t tell you just yet. I need to chat to Dot and my case-worker.”
“Sounds like family,” Marty observed perspicaciously.
“Yeah, whatever, but I have to talk with Dot first. There are rules attached to my being fostered.”
Marty shrugged and sat on the bed as Georgie closed her lap-top lid.
“So, what did you find in the excavations?”
“Jessica’s sent me a message; they think they’ve found an older trading ship buried deeper in the mud of the Basin. They only discovered it this afternoon because they were researching foundation potentials deeper down than the ancient basin walls.”
“Older than the boat in the holding ponds?” Georgie wondered.”
“Yes. The old basin is much older than the old dock or the canal. There’s been a deep-water tidal pool where the river eddied around the rocky outcrop since forever. The archaeologists believe ships have been using the tidal pool as a permanently wet berth since men have been building ships. ‘Always afloat’ and stuff, is how sailors describe it. Jessie explained it to me on my phone while I was looking in the hole. The basin was built around the tidal pool because the eddies around the rock made it self-dredging. The basin predates the pub and the pub predates the town.”
“Are they going to excavate that ship as well?” Georgie asked.
“I dunno’, she didn’t say. It just looked like some rotten planks and a stem post when I saw it just now. There’s people coming to check it tomorrow.”
“Ah well,” Georgie grinned, “more business for the pub. Dot and Sam’ll be pleased.”
“Trust you!” Marty expostulated. “It’s always money; no interest in our heritage.”
“Oy. I’m studying science not history. And besides, without science you’d have precious little archaeology so precious little history.”
They teased each other about sciences and the arts until Dot called the walkie-talkie and declared that dinner was ready.
After Dinner, Marty discovered that her rear light on her Bike was defunct so Sam drove her and her bike home. When she returned home, Georgie took the opportunity to tell Dot about having located her biological father.
“What; you’ve actually found him; how do you know it’s him?” Dot pressed.
“He answered all my questions, only ones my real dad could know.”
“You haven’t disclosed your location have you?”
“No. The search site especially protects your personal details unless you specifically share them. Besides I never had anything to fear from my dad. He was always good to me after they separated until my mother’s new boyfriend Terry became a menace.
Terry's the bastard I hate and fear, he’s the one who drove me out or at least made it too hard to bear. I should have made sure I was still in contact with my dad before I ran.”
“Have you told him about Georgie?”
“Not yet.”
“I think you’d better.”
“Yes but how? If I break it to him suddenly he might lose it and I don’t want that.”
“Have you agreed to meet him?” Dot pressed.
“Yes. But we haven’t agreed a place.”
“D’ you want me to come with you?”
“It might be a good idea, would you?”
“Of course I will, but you’d best check it with your case-worker.”
“Do I have to?”
“I think it would be the right thing to do, it might even be compulsory. Shall I talk to her tomorrow?”
“I’m an emancipated adult, I shouldn’t have to ask.”
“Perhaps not but remember, the fostering fees I receive for your keep are discretionary subject to your education and circumstances. Let’s not jeopardise those while you’re still at school.”
“Ah! Good point,” Georgie grinned. “If I was working full time I’d be out on my arse as far as the SS are concerned.”
“Exactly.” Dot confirmed. “I’ll chat with her tomorrow and let you know in school or when you get home.”
“I think I’m doing the right thing,” Georgie opined. “He really was the best dad a kid could have. I never should have run away until I knew where he lived. He was pretty broken up when my egg-donor left him.”
“Is that how you feel about her?”
“She was never a mother to me. She married that bastard Terry the moment the decree absolute came through. That’s when my life turned to shit, the moment he realised I was trans.”
Dot nodded slowly. She knew Georgie’s story chapter and verse.
After chatting at length and eventually telling Sam the news, they shared some hot chocolate then went to bed. The next day after Lunch, Dot contacted Georgie to let her know the meeting was okay provided Dot was to witness it to prevent any kidnap attempts. Georgie cackled when she heard the news and heads all turned in the school canteen.
“Whassat about?” Marty asked.
“Aah, nothin much. D’ yer wanna come to Bristol on Sunday?”
“Saturday’s better.”
“Naah, I’m working.”
“Whass’it for?”
“I’ve found my dad, my real dad; the nice one. He wants to take me to lunch.”
“Shouldn’t you go alone?”
“Naah, Dot’s coming as well. There’s lots to sort out and I’d like a friend if it doesn’t work out.”
“Oka-ay.” Marty agreed cautiously. “There’s no danger is there?”
“I wouldn’t have thought so. My dad was always good to me.”
And so on the Sunday morning, Marty met Georgie and Dot at the railway station.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Dot and Sam 11
On the train Journey to Bristol, Georgie remained deep in thought as she contemplated meeting her father whilst now presenting as a girl. For Marty, the idea of her normally vivacious and chatty friend remaining so silent and introspective, was a clear sign that Georgie wanted no disturbance. Instead, Marty downloaded a historical novel on her phone and remained silent. Dot smiled inwardly as she contemplated the two normally outgoing teenagers both engrossed in their own thoughts so she also settled back and took to also studying the pub accounts on her phone. She was glad that her companion Sam had tucked a USB manifold into her bag so that the single USB socket supplied to each set of four facing seats could be properly utilised.
Eventually, the train reached Bristol and the trio disembarked.
“Can you see him love?” Dot asked Georgie, as the girl scanned the platform.
Georgie wagged her head and suggested they go and search the restaurant. She obviously had the same thoughts as her father for they met just as he was folding his newspaper and leaving his table. Georgie tensed fearfully as she prepared for any eventuality.
“Hello daddy.” She offered softly as her father was turning to leave.
Trevor Aitkins’ eyes widened bemusedly as his eyebrows shot up. He had recognised the voice behind him but when he turned he did not immediately identify the pretty girl looking at him. Uncertainly, he asked in a cautious whisper as recognition slowly dawned.
“George?”
“It’s Georgina now daddy, but friends call me Georgie.”
The open-handed way that Georgie had revealed herself to her father was a clear demonstration that she knew her dad had always loved her and she did not expect any ‘back-lash’ from him concerning her appearance. Nevertheless, she was a little fearful.
Trevor stood still for some moments until he realised he was blocking the doorway. Then he realised the girl before him was desperately nervous so he stepped back towards his vacated table and eagerly offered her a seat as he tested the girl’s name on his tongue.
“Georgina,” he repeated, as his mind raced to remember to smile reassurance, “take a seat son, - sorry, I mean darling. Is it okay to say darling?”
The visible tension in Georgie’s demeanour evaporated magically and outside on the platform, peering through the doorway, Dot relaxed with a noticeable sigh.
“It’s wonderful if you say darling, daddy!” Georgie croaked as emotion gripped her throat while a tear forced itself from her eye when she realised her dad definitely seemed to be accepting her.
Trevor was about to say ‘Stop crying’, before he remembered he was talking to, - and looking at a girl, - his daughter! Instead, he reached self-consciously into his anorak pocket and took a reasonably clean but crumpled handkerchief and proffered it to her. Georgie took it graciously and dabbed her eye. She had anticipated tears earlier that morning so she had avoided make-up except for a hint of lipstick. In truth, Georgie was so pretty she did not need make-up,
“Thanks,” she croaked again as she dabbed her eye.
“Is it okay to hug you?” Trevor whispered.
She nodded vigorously as a huge grin split her features. Then, despite having taken a seat, she extended her arms towards her father and he responded.
That is how Dot and Marty found them as they followed discreetly at some small distance into the restaurant. Georgie did not see them with her back to the door and Trevor did not recognise them so Dot took the opportunity to order a large, family pot of tea and some cakes from the service counter. Then, as Georgie was recovering her composure, Dot left the serving queue and made herself known as she raised an inquisitive eyebrow. Georgie immediately grinned and nodded ‘success’!
“I came with friends daddy; I hope you don’t mind.” She whispered to her father as she indicated Dot and Marty.
Trevor looked around to see two smiling people approaching with the large tray. He stood up and gave a slight smile as Dot motioned with the tray and a questioning expression.
“May we join you?”
“If you don’t mind tears, by all means.” Trevor allowed.
Dot grinned at Georgie’s tear-stained cheeks and asked her.
“I take it things have gone well?” She continued as she placed the tray on the table and handed Trevor’s previously used cup to Marty who promptly returned it to the tray-stacker.
Georgie nodded contentedly and croaked “thanks.”
Dot explained to Trevor
“Georgie lives with me, I fostered her.”
“Oh! I see. May I ask where?”
Dot turned to Georgie and asked.
“Are you happy to say?”
Georgie nodded and replied.
“Yes, my real dad would never harm me.”
Trevor felt a warm flush of happy relief as he realised that his son – no, his daughter, apparently felt no anger towards him. Dot nodded and smiled then turned towards Trevor again.
Dot explained that Georgie lived with her and gave the address, then she explained further. “Georgie’s been looking for you since before I met her. She’s very fond of you.”
“She never answered my letters,” Trevor revealed, “but I think I know why now. Her stepfather leaves something to be desired. I gave up eventually.”
“I never got them,” Georgie sobbed, “my egg donor, or worse, the stepdad must have intercepted them.”
“Sadly we can’t touch her for that, Georgie was under-age.” Dot advised. “Her mother probably had custody rights.”
“She did,” Trevor confirmed. “I was so wounded; I didn’t even contest it in court.”
“Well that’s water under the bridge now. Georgie is an emancipated junior, she is free to come and go, though I believe she likes living with me.”
“You bet!” Georgie affirmed as she stretched an arm to hug Dot. “But I‘d like to resume seeing my dad again, now that I’ve found him.”
“Nobody here want’s to stop you Georgie,” Dot arched her eyebrows as she explained, “you’re an emancipated junior.”
“Can daddy come to stay with us?”
“Certainly, if he’s agreeable, you’d best explain everything though, first.”
“Not here,” Georgie baulked, “not in this café, it’s too public.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
After finishing their cakes and tea, they trooped out of the railway restaurant with Georgie holding both her father’s and her foster mother’s arms. Marty walked ahead until Trevor called her back as they located their chosen destination and found a quiet secluded pub that offered privacy. Once seated, Dot explained Georgie’s situation concerning The Harbour Light, then Georgie explained her transgenderism.
It was not Trevor however, who expressed surprise, it was Marty.
“But I thought you were just gay!” Marty squeaked.
“What made you think that?” Georgie frowned.
“Never mind, I’d rather not say.”
“Why not. There are no secrets now.”
“No. I’d rather not, please.” Marty pleaded.
Georgie shrugged. “Okay, it’s no skin off my nose, but if it gets out in school about my transgenderism, I’ll know who’s been blabbing!”
“I’ll be the last person to reveal anything like that.”
“Why?” Georgie demanded.
“I’d rather not say, honestly.”
“Friends shouldn’t have secrets from each other,” Georgie repeated.
“Is it that bad?” Trevor intervened, hoping to close down the potential for enmity between Georgie and Marty.
Marty felt overwhelmed and turned pleadingly to Dot. Dot sympathised and went to Marty’s aid.
“Can there be anything that bad love. I mean the school knows you’ve got issues.”
“It’s not Georgie,” Marty slumped with defeat. “It’s my brother. He’s still sweet on Marty. He’s been living in hope since the abuse thing at the beginning of term.”
“Oh shit!” Georgie cursed softly. “And I suppose he's hoping to use our friendship as some sort of 'in'."
Marty nodded despondently and Georgie responded.
"You’re going to have to put him off.”
“How? Marty scoffed. “Every boy in the school’s got the hots for you. If I get him to leave you alone other boys are gonna try and they’ll ask him why he dropped you.”
Georgie fell silent as she contemplated the alternative. If the boys found out she was transgender, there were bound to be some transphobes who’d make things difficult if not dangerous. Every schoolkid knew that school bullies would always find a way to get to you, even outside of school if necessary. In fact, more probably out of school.
After reflection, she concluded it was best to let the boys think she was gay, a ‘lipstick-lesbian’ as the conventionalists would have it. The bullies would be less likely to abuse what they saw as a pretty girl who was ‘a waste’ from their macho point of view because they had ‘no chance’.
The food arrived and the table fell silent as they each kept their thoughts private while enjoying the meal. After the meal, Georgie exchanged details with her bio-dad Trevor who promised to drop by in the week if she wanted to see him again.
“Of course I want to see you Daddy, again and again and again! Can you make it Wednesday or Thursday cos that’s what best fits my homework nights.”
Trevor glanced questioningly at Dot who nodded a happy consent as she extended the invitation.
“You can stay overnight Wednesday to Thursday if you want. You’ll have good opportunity to see what’s going on with the archaeological dig and see how Georgie’s set up accommodation-wise. If Georgie want’s Marty there, she’s more than welcome.”
“I’m going down to the dig on Thursday anyway,” Marty owned, “ it will be in my own right with my history dissertation. Jessie’s said they’re possibly lifting the stern post of the ancient boat buried in the basin on Thursday if they can get the excavation dry enough. I really want to be there for that and all of my history class-mates have permission to attend as well. The History master is a keen maritime historian so he’s got permission for the whole class to attend.”
Georgie grinned inwardly as she observed, “More trade for Dot.”
Dot just grinned knowingly as the waiter arrived with the bill and Trevor almost snatched it out of his hand as though to emphasise that the day had been his treat. Dot smiled ‘thank-you’ as the group left to return to the station. There, in the time -honoured tradition, Georgie leaned out of the train window to hug her new-found father as the train blasted it’s horn and announced its departure.
“See you Wednesday darling,” Trevor promised as Georgie realised her father had a tear in his eye.
“And Thursday Daddy.” She promised whilst relishing the smile her promise brought to her dads face.
On their journey home, Marty and Georgie chatted at length about transgenderism while Dot kept her silence but listened to make sure Marty’s curiosity was kept within its bounds. On the Sunday morning, Georgie worked an extra shift to make up for Saturday’s day off but in the Sunday afternoon she spent the whole day catching up with schoolwork and she collapsed contentedly on the bed to text good night to her Dad.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Wednesday afternoon was the midweek break when students could pursue their own interests and Georgie met her dad off the train from Gloucester.
“You should have brought the car.” Georgie observed.
“The train’s easier and more relaxing,” he replied as they hailed a cab outside the station and Georgie gave directions to The Harbour Light.
“A genuinely ancient pub then.” Trevor remarked as they spilled out of the taxi.
“Oh yes Daddy. It’s been recently demonstrated to have connections going back to before the town. They believe there’s been some sort of strong-point on the rocky outcrop since before Viking times.”
“Fascinating. Those woods on the other bank, they look fairly ancient.”
“They are, if you stand by that old, gnarled oak and look across the river towards the pub, it looks like a miniature version of St Michael’s mount in Cornwall. This has always been some sort of strong point cum look-out”
As Georgie explained, she tapped her hand on the reinforced gable corner at the extreme corner of the ancient pub that overlooked the estuary and the lane they had just travelled.
“Doesn’t this dressed stone corner look like a reinforced base of some sort of tower?” Georgie opined.
“Now you come to mention it. Yes,” Trevor agreed as he studied the protruding shelf. “What’s that metal thing up there?”
“That’s a reproduction of the old leading light that used to guide boats up the estuary. The original used to be kept in the cellar for when the tides allowed navigation as part of the medieval trades. It’s now been placed in the pub restaurant as part of the historic display. I’ll show it to you later, let’s go and meet Dot and Sam.”
Trevor followed happily and dumped his case behind the bar as Dot and Sam welcomed him.
“Tea or coffee?” Sam called from the kitchen as Dot led Trevor to their living room.”
Trevor settled comfortably into a well cushioned recliner chair and they were soon chatting about Georgie’s set-up. After a longish chat, Dot led him around the pub then showed him the room appointed for his daughter.
“Georgie’s room has got the nicest aspect of the estuary and furthest from the Friday and Saturday hurly-burly of the drag shows.” She gets peace to study from Sunday to Thursday.”
“Are you okay with that darling?” Trevor asked Georgie.
“Heck yes. My own space and my own privacy, even my own bathroom?”
“Yes, I noticed.” Trevor nodded approvingly. “So what’s happening outside? I see the excavations and tents.”
“Dot gave a brief explanation then suggested Georgie do the ‘Cook’s Tour’ of the excavations.
“Dinner will be at six, immediately after the restaurant is closed.”
Trevor could sense his daughter’s keen anticipation so he simply asked leave to change into more suitable clothes and he met in the Pub fore-court overlooking the excavations.
“There’s a lot going on,” he mused, as he scanned the site. “Where is this boat, they’ve found.”
“There’s two boats, but this sea going boat looks like being the most interesting. I’ll introduce you to the archaeologist,” Georgie offered as she led him around the perimeter fence.
After a brief introduction, Georgie led Trevor first to the trading canal-boat up in the storage pond then down deep into the excavations where the seagoing boat lay partially submerged in the mud.
“There’s not much to see,” Trevor grinned.
“They keep it wet to preserve it then pump out the hole if they want to work on it. You’ll see a lot more tomorrow if they decide to extract any artefacts.”
“Are they going to preserve it?”
“It depends on funding. The more they find, the more excited the archaeologists get and the more depressed the developers get.”
Trevor chuckled as Georgie finally led him to the large warehouse where they intended to preserve the barge.
It was dark by the time Georgie had completed her tour and Trevor was secretly grateful to seek the warmth of the pub. Georgie made her excuses to go and do some homework while Trevor chatted at length about the project to develop the basin. He could see why Dot was keen to create a somewhat Dickensian ambience and he imagined ‘Christmas Card’ images of the basin with ancient sailing ships filling the scene.
“All it needs is Money,” Trevor sighed as he studied the prospectus prepared by the council.
Dot shrugged and sighed wryly.
“They’ve exhausted all the lottery money excavating the archaeology, the lottery fund won’t grant anymore.”
“Pity,” Trevor commiserated as he closed the booklet and yawned. “Time for Bed I think.”
The three adults agreed and picked their way to their respective bedrooms. On his way along the corridor, Trevor sneaked a peek into his daughter’s room and smiled affectionately as he spied her curled up foetally with her duvet pulled tight around her neck and text books by the pillow. Silently, he crept away to his own room and lay happily reflecting in the dark that he had finally located his lost child.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Dot and Sam 12
Dorothy Philpot. Landlady of The Harbour Light pub
Sam Philpot. Drag-queen.
Billy Parkins Doorkeeper.
Jessica Merlot The town’ and county archaeologist.
Josephine MacDonald The town and county archivist.
Richard Drummond Town planning inspector
Robert Vincent. Junior planning inspector.
Georgina. (Georgie) Homeless Transgender girl.
Bobby Gay boy on the school bus.
Marty Girl on the school bus.
Jack. Marty’s twin brother (Keen runner).
Trevor Aitkins, Georgie’s Biological father.
Thursday dawned grey and windy and Trevor awoke momentarily disorientated as he emerged from a deep sleep that spoke well of the bed’s comfort at The Harbour Light. A time check told him he was early, so he didn’t rush to get up. Instead, he listened to the wind sighing around the old stone walls then he showered and dressed until he heard noises coming from the landing.
“Is that you love?” He called.
“Yes daddy. Breakfast’s ready. What are your plans for this morning?
“I’ll take a taxi into town then come and see the people doing the dig. What time will you be home from school?”
“About five to four. It’s the same bus every day except Wednesdays. Marty will be here today; she’s coming at lunch time with the school.”
“Okay, I’ll see you about four, or shall I Meet you outside school?”
“That’ll be about half three. I’d love you to do that.”
With arrangements sorted, Trevor shared breakfast with Dot, Sam and Georgie then drove his daughter to school. She kissed him fondly at the gates and sauntered happily into school as he drove into the town. After completing the tasks he had planned, he found himself at a bit of a loose end, so he checked the tides and took a walk around the estuary before meeting Georgie again in the early afternoon. At the school gates she hugged him and giggled.
“You’ve caused a stir. All the boys think I prefer older men.”
“Let them think what they like.” Trevor shrugged as he smiled, then added. “The estuary’s quite an interesting place. Lots of birds and stuff.”
“If you like birding, go for a walk with Dot or Sam, they’re dead keen.”
“I was more interested in the woods that come down to the shore-line on the opposite bank.”
“At lowest astronomical tide, you can wade across where those rocks stick out but look out for the mud.”
“Have you tried it?” Trevor wondered.
“Not yet, October tides are best and now that I know my way around better, I might try it this autumn. There are some quick-sands though. ”
“Well you be very careful darling and don’t go alone. Now I've found you, I don't want to lose you again.”
When they returned to the Harbour light, both Trevor and Georgie were fascinated to find recovered parts of the sea trading schooner sitting in a large water tank on the back of a small lorry..
“How old is it?” Georgie asked Marty as she shared her packed food with her classmates.”
“They think about eleventh century. “Old Chalky the history lecturer is beside himself with excitement. He’s been on the phone all day with Jessie talking to London. The dendrochronology will fix the age cos the stern post is a substantial chunk of wood and they can date the rings.”
“I bet the developers are pissed.” Marty giggled. More delays.”
“More business for us though,” Georgie grinned. ”Though the developers have got plenty of profitable work to go on with. The work on the tidal gate to the river isn’t affected and the new dock-gate cill has yet to be installed.”
Amongst the history students, the mood was almost jubilant but Trevor spotted a couple of long faces whom he presumed to be contractors. He kept his counsel however and finally made his farewells to his daughter Georgie.
“Come back soon daddy. I’ll miss you.” Georgie pleaded as she stood in the lane and watched the taxi pull away.
Dot also watched and smiled as she noted Georgie’s hopeful mood.
“I’m sure he’ll be back love.” Dot encouraged her. “Are you his only child?”
“No I’ve got a younger sister and an even younger brother. Dad hasn’t seen much of them or me since the divorce.”
“What’s his job.” Dot continued.
“He works in Birmingham mostly but he goes all over. I don’t know exactly what he does but he calls himself an actuary whatever that is. He told me he qualified as a mathematician at uni then he took some professional exams to become an actuary. It’s something like an accountant but to do with pensions I think, I know he meets with all sorts of people including engineers and architects. Then he goes around assessing projects to advise pension funds and banks who have something called investment portfolios. I know he goes to London often. When he and mum were married he’d often take mummy and us kids up to London and we’d go sightseeing while he visited clients and stuff. I've missed him terribly and I’m thrilled he’s back!”
“I thought he sounded like some sort of assessor.” Dot observed. “He asked a lot of questions about who’s funding the basin renovations.”
After all the visitors had left, Georgie had a light dinner and went upstairs to work on her homework. Dot found her still dressed but asleep on the bed with her lap-top blinking away at nearly midnight.
During the following weekend, Marty’s history lecturer had co-operated with Jessie the county archaeologist to expand the archaeology volunteer team. Dot and Georgie were pleasantly surprised to find a doubling of students from the local universities and Georgie’s high-school because the importance and fame of the excavations had spread.
Dot was truly pleased to see Georgie thoroughly enjoying her time serving lunches while gossiping with her classmates and the students she had befriended during the summer vacation. Dot of course was immensely pleased with the extra business.
The excavations on the trading schooner were accelerated furiously now that the timbers were in danger of drying. To this end a larger truck with a bigger water tank was brought down to preserve as much of the boat as they could find. Marty found herself working as one of the hewers and carriers as excavated mud was carefully sifted for archaeology. It was filthy work picking through fine mesh sieves at waist height while water sloshed down Marty’s waterproof full length apron. Fortunately, Georgie had promised her the use of her hot shower and Marty was looking forward to it.
By the Sunday evening, it was decided that all the recoverable archaeology was gathered and a celebratory party was held at the pub. For Georgie, the whole weekend had proven to be a brilliant occasion to deepen her school friendships and expand her circle of friends.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
By Christmas, The basin was ready to be fully flooded for tests on the new tidal gate. The ancient medieval basin walls were finally repointed and declared stable, then the newly installed sluices were given their first test. Just before the Christmas term ended, Georgie joined Marty and her history classmates in eager anticipation as the first rush of water was allowed to enter the excavated basin.
“I wouldn’t like to fall in that,” Marty grinned as they watched the first testing trickle of river water become a furious inrush, “and what are Dot and Sam doing over there by the control room?”
“They’re training because they’ve got jobs as assistant gate men.” Georgie explained, “and once I’m eighteen I’ll become one as well.”
“Your birthday’s next February isn’t it.” Marty exclaimed. “Is Dot going to apply for the dock-master’s post?”
“No. She’s got too much work with the pub and restaurant.”
“What about Sam?”
“No, she’s too busy as well. The council are holding interviews and stuff in January. We got our jobs because we live virtually on site and know the area better than anybody.”
As Georgie and Marty were still watching the furious inrush of the sluices, the town councillor’s inauguration party crossed the walkway on the top of the new dock-gate and made their way to The Harbour Light. Georgie followed them in and invited Marty to join her. By now, Georgie was well known to several of the councillors and soon she was mingling with the group as they chatted over the buffet. Naturally, Marty inveigled herself into the party as well and she listened to the various conversations of the councillors.
Georgie was particularly interested to hear that the Councillors were optimistic about finding the final tranche of funding to complete the development of the basin. When she heard the councillors mention the name of the company she felt a flutter of excitement for she had previously heard the name of something very similar being mentioned by her dad.
Immediately, she slipped up to her room and emailed her dad confidentially. Then as she returned to the party she got a soft ‘ping’ on her mobile. Her dad had responded.
“That’s confidential information darling. Where did you hear of it?”
“Some of the councillors were expressing hopes of the final funding.”
“Well pretend you didn’t hear anything and don’t reveal anything. I know I can trust you to be discreet.”
Georgie swallowed slightly for she now knew more than some of the councillors.
That early evening, she got a call on her mobile, it was her dad again. Eagerly she answered and was happy to learn her dad was visiting the basin again that Friday and hoped to stay the weekend. Georgie had recently passed her driving test and arranged to meet him at the station. When she saw him on the arriving train she tooted her horn and waved furiously then savoured the wide smile her dad gave her as he stepped off the train and bent down to protect himself against the driving rain. December was never a good month to travel even though it held all the excitement and promise of Christmas and family reunions.
Trevor let out an ‘oof’ of breath as Georgie flung herself into his arms and pressed her cheek to his almost like lovers. The hug finally ended with a brief kiss and they made their way to the car.
“So Daddy. Is this visit business or pleasure?”
“Both darling. I’m meeting come associates in the town hall to talk to the council.”
“Is it going ahead then? Will you be involved?”
“Whoa! Steady darling, confidentiality and all that.” Her dad cautioned her but his smile gave a lot away.
Georgie picked up on the smile and frowned curiously.
“What are you not telling me?”
“I’ll tell you after meeting with the council if everything goes to plan. For now, a lot of it is still confidential.”
Georgie tutted impatiently and Trevor changed the subject.
“Have you any plans about a career yet, you’re nearly eighteen?”
“Well there’s Uni for the next three years, - I hope, then at some time I want to transition. Preferably before I go up.”
“Will you be freezing your sperm?” Trevor asked hopefully.
“Already done Dad, Dot and my caseworker were very helpful organising that.”
“Dot’s a good woman,” Trevor opined, “you landed on your feet here.”
“And don’t I know it!” Georgie agreed. “She and Sam are a fabulous couple.”
They arrived at the town hall and Georgie set her father down after arranging to meet him later. Then she met
Marty and they went shopping with some of their school friends to sort out Christmas presents. Finally, she met
again with her dad and they drove to The Harbour Light. Sam met them because Dot had been called
unexpectedly to see her sick mother.
“Is it serious?” Trevor asked Sam.
“We’ll find out when she gets there. She only left about an hour ago. I tried phoning Georgie but her phone was
off.”
Georgie frowned ruefully as she confirmed her battery had run out. Both adults wagged their heads amusedly. It
seemed that teenaged girls never had their phones out of their ears. As they sat down to eat, Sam’s phone
rang.
“It’s a false alarm. Dot’s mum’s okay. She’s coming back tomorrow.”
With this news the mood around the table lightened and Georgie gave Sam and her dad a bit of a fashion show
before Sam left to prepare the Drag show while Georgie cleared the table. Up in his bedroom, Trevor checked
over some figures then came down to find his daughter busy behind the bar. They exchanged smiles then
Trevor went for a walk around the Basin just to get a feel for the project now that his principals had become an investor in the project.
He hoped his daughter would approve. The following morning he broke his news to Georgie.
“I can do my job online from just about anywhere, so do you agree to it?”
“Agree to it!?” Georgie almost shrieked with joy. “Of course I’ll agree to it. So you’ll be a shareholder in the
basin!”
“Well not exactly. I own some shares in the development partnership with the council.”
“Oh never mind that, where will you be living; locally I hope?”
“Uuhhm, across the basin darling. My office will be above the harbourmaster’s office and my home will be the
second converted warehouse next door.”
“Will you be here all the time?”
“No love, I’ll still be travelling to visit sites but not so much, perhaps two or maybe three days a week.”
“So I’ll see a lot of you?”
“If you wish, but I’ll bet you’ll soon tire of it.”
“Never!” Georgie declared emphatically as she hugged her dad. ”Can I tell Dot and Sam?”
“Of course you can! It’s not a secret is it; and they’ll find out soon enough anyway. Have you got time to go and look at my prospective new home?”
“Ooh! You bet. Do I get to have a bedroom over there as well?”
Trevor let out a hoot of laughter that attracted Sam’s attention.
“Good news?” Sam inquired.
“Dad’s moving to live across the Basin. Warehouse number two.”
“Ooh do tell!” Sam exclaimed as she polished the remaining glasses behind the bar.
After briefly outlining Trevor’s plans, Sam suggested that father and daughter go and check out their prospective new home and when they returned from the row of warehouses they found Dot back at the pub.
“Yes, it’s all sorted,” Dot confirmed, “my mum’s a bit of a drama queen. So what’s this news of yours Trev. You’re a bit of a dark horse!”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Dot and Sam 13
Dorothy Philpot. Landlady of The Harbour Light pub
Sam Philpot. Drag-queen.
Billy Parkins Doorkeeper.
Jessica Merlot The town’ and county archaeologist.
Josephine MacDonald The town and county archivist.
Richard Drummond Town planning inspector
Robert Vincent. Junior planning inspector.
Georgina. (Georgie) Homeless Transgender girl.
Bobby Gay boy on the school bus.
Marty Girl on the school bus.
Jack. Marty’s twin brother (Keen runner).
Trevor Aitkins, Georgie’s Biological father.
The weekend after the basin was filled with water, The Harbour Light was almost overwhelmed with assorted tourists and house-buyers looking to buy a delightful ‘holiday home’ or letting opportunity. As she waited on the tables Georgie smiled inwardly as she heard loud city voices braying about house values and ‘property investments’ over their meals. Georgie already knew that some ware-house units were already spoken for by local traders while others had been reserved as ‘affordable rental homes’ to be owned and let by the council. The county had suffered enough from property values skyrocketing out of reach to local families, then lying empty for months through the winter. The council had decided that this ‘homelessness cancer’ was to be nipped in the bud because the basin was programmed to become a living organism not a winter ghost-town.
As Georgia busied herself, several self-important diners asked what she thought of the basin project.
“Would you like to live here m’ dear?” One particularly noisome ‘loads’a’money’ inquired, as his question to Georgie echoed around the pub. The pub fell silent.
Weary of the presumptuous metropolitan arrogance, Georgie just smiled sweetly and mimicked the broad local accent.
“Oim’ as already livin’ ere m’ darlin; is you’se thinkin oh cummin’ down from t’ smoke the-en?”
‘Loads a’ money’ fell into a slightly stunned silence as he digested the waitress’s news and his jaw worked silently for several moments before one of his table mates burst out laughing.
“Ha, haa! She got yer there Alf!” He gasped. “Her dad must be a millionaire!”
Having laughed at his own joke he turned to Georgie.
“Is your dad a millionaire? He must be to own this place; it looks like a goldmine!”
Georgie reverted to perfect ‘R.P.’ as she savoured another put-down.
“Sadly, my daddy does not own ‘this place’ as you call it, my mummy does. It’s a traditional old seafaring inn. Now, are you ordering dessert sir?”
One of the women diners secretly savoured the way the pretty young girl had so easily shut down the men and decided to order a dessert because she secretly hoped the girl would repeat her evident skill at handling oafs. She held up her hand to make her wishes known and quickly, the rest of the women in the party read the signs. Georgie smiled inwardly as she sensed the mood amongst the women and their desserts were quickly added to the bill.
Later the whole party retired to the lounge to finish the evening and once again, knowing eyes quickly assessed the amount of booze flowing across the bar. Less knowing eyes just gaped mesmerised as the same pretty waiter was now working behind the bar after the restaurant had closed.
By the end of the evening ‘Loads a’ money’s’ noisy crowd were the last remaining table to leave just as Trevor was returning from one of his assessment trips. One of the women in the party suddenly recognised him as he ducked behind the bar and gave his daughter Georgie a hug while simultaneously exchanging pleasantries with Dot as she was cashing up the takings. The woman hurried across to the bar and spoke to Trevor as he was ducking back from under the bar and intending to slip upstairs to his bedroom. The ware-houses across the basin were not completed yet and Trevor was still staying at the Harbour Light.
“Trevor! Trevor Aitkins! Is that you?”
Trevor turned with surprise as he slowly recognised the woman. She had been an acquaintance at school many years before Georgie had been born and before Trevor had married Georgie’s mother. She knew the divorce between Trevor and his wife had been a painful event for Trevor for he had always been a loyal husband. She squinted at him with a surprised smile playing on her lips.
“So, is this young lady your new companion. She’s surely too young to be your wife, you old dog!”
Trevor frowned irritably as he instantly regretted having hugged Georgie so tightly; the intimacy of his having pecked Georgie on her cheek had obviously misled the woman.
“She’s not my wife Allison! So don’t go spreading tales.”
“But that affectionate kiss, so sweet! Is she related?”
“That’s no concern of yours Ma-am.” Georgie responded a little too quickly. “We’ve just been working closely together on the excavations and stuff. Mr Aitkins has been very helpful to my classmates doing their archaeology stuff for their history dissertations.”
“Oh I see.” The woman trailed off her conversation as her friends were calling her to leave.
But she noticed a facial resemblance between her old acquaintance and the pretty girl he had hugged a bit too affectionately. She turned to Trevor as she reluctantly departed.
“So, are you living down these parts now?” She asked the man for whom she had once held a candle many years ago.
“Occasionally,” Trevor conceded somewhat reluctantly, “but I still keep my main place in the midlands.”
Georgie felt a flush of gratitude that her dad had already grasped the implications of her mother or step-father somehow discovering her whereabouts. The very last thing Georgie wanted was her detested step-father discovering where she lived.
Any more conversation was soon curtailed as Dot rang ‘last orders’ while Georgie closed the doors behind ‘Loads ‘a money’ and his friends. As she slipped the bolts home, she watched the group pile into a taxi then she switched off the courtyard lights and dashed upstairs to her dad’s bedroom.
“Thanks Daddy.”
“That was close darling, I’m not sure you’re out of the woods though. I think Allison may have recognised you.”
“D’you think so?” Georgie frowned slightly.
“I can’t say for certain love, but Allison’s a lawyer and professional photographer and she’s got a sharp eye for imagery and faces. She might have clocked some likeness between you and me.”
“Damn! I hope not. We’ll just have to wait and see.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Dot and Sam 14
Dorothy Philpot. Landlady of The Harbour Light pub
Sam Philpot. Drag-queen.
Billy Parkins Doorkeeper.
Jessica Merlot The town’ and county archaeologist.
Josephine MacDonald The town and county archivist.
Richard Drummond Town planning inspector
Robert Vincent. Junior planning inspector.
Georgina. (Georgie) Homeless Transgender girl.
Bobby Gay boy on the school bus.
Marty Girl on the school bus.
Jack. Marty’s twin brother (Keen runner).
Trevor Aitkins, Georgie’s Biological father.
Lucinda Aitkins Georgie’s biological mother
Terence Georgie’s abusive stepdad.
Both Georgie and her father Trevor, returned downstairs to alert Dot and Sam to the situation with the woman who had recognised Trevor, and her possibly realising that Georgie was somehow related to Trevor. Sadly, Trevor’s worst fears were realised later that week when the woman Allison, met Georgie’s mother Lucinda, that is Trevor’s ex-wife at one of her friendship, gossip meetings at their local café in a village near Birmingham.
“Oh Lucy, I’ve been meaning to tell you; I met your ex last week!”
“Where’s the wimp hiding then.”
“It seems he lives between his place in Birmingham and a pretty coastal village down south. You’re not looking for him are you, I thought your divorce settlement was all sorted.”
“Nah, you’re right. That business was sorted years ago, I’m not looking for him. It’s my son I’m looking for.”
“Oh you mean George, the one who ran away. I thought you’d given up on him, what with that huge row between your new partner Terry and him.”
“I didn’t give up on him, Terry’s the one who physically kicked him out. Called him a bloody queer and a pervert. He nearly broke his shoulder. Terry’s not much for tolerance but he’s generous with my other two and his children by his first wife.”
“Yes, I’ll bet you fill that house of yours at Christmas. So you’re saying that George still hasn’t come home”
“Nope. Nary a peep or a squeak since Terry kicked him out. God alone knows where he is.”
“How did Terry find out your boy was queer? Did he catch him with a boyfriend or something?”
“No, he caught him wearing girl’s clothes up in the bedroom and he just threw him out. I tried to stop him but he said the other children wouldn’t be safe.”
“Oh so George is a transvestite then.”
“Something like that or a transsexual even. I read up about it after he left. They say it’s incurable, but I’d still have him back. He’s gone now, forever I suppose.”
The mention of the word transsexual started Allison’s brain ticking and after nibbling thoughtfully on her cake she ventured an idea.
“George resembled his father didn’t he?”
“Oh yes; peas in a pod as they say. Even their build was the same, very slight and smallish. It was Trevor’s personality and brain that I fell for. Trevor is bright and he passed that on to our children as well.”
The ticking in Allison’s brain got louder as she wondered how to suggest her thoughts to Lucy.
“You said you thought George might be transsexual.”
“Well, that or transgendered. That’s what they call it now, along with a whole bunch of other stuff. I’m afraid he might have ended up in some sex thing or other. God knows but it frightens me.”
“How long has he been gone.”
“Last June, it’s nearly February now so that’s eight or nine months. I’d rather not talk about it Al’ it worries me sick.”
Allison immediately fell silent as she sensed her friend’s distress, but she resolved to dig deeper whilst being very discreet. She worked in a large estate agency and legal practice in Birmingham and she was perfectly positioned to find out any property news about the area around The Harbour Light pub and the estuary. For the time being she put it at the back of her mind until her husband Fred expressed an idea that he might take another look at buying a second home
“Where are you thinking?” Allison asked.
“By that little dock place with the pub’ as I recall.” Reggie suggested.
Allison almost tore his arm of as she enthused.
“Ooh yes! Are you serious about buying. I loved that basin place and the pub was a delight!”
The upshot was that two weeks later Allison and Reggie found themselves inspecting the single row of newbuilds being erected tastefully on the only spare land behind the old Dickensian warehouses on the opposite side of the basin to The Harbour light. The development very much resembled the dressed and ‘polled’ stone facings of the original buildings and actually added to the ambience of the sight. They comprised a single row of three storied town-houses facing the old ‘back-yards’ of the warehouses, while the street dividing them provided an effective but discreet service access.
Like others who had fallen in love with the picturesque tidal basin, Allison and Fred secured a down payment deposit, then, after completing the deal, they retired to The Harbour Light and celebrated their success.
“Where’s the pretty waitress who served us last time?” Allison asked Sam as she took their order.
“Which one?” Sam replied, for by now, ‘The Harbour Light’ employed some half a dozen waitresses plus kitchen staff and bar staff.
“The very pretty blond one who served us. She had quite the way with putdowns when my Fred’s mate got too fresh with her. I think she said she lived here in the pub.”
Sam threw her head back and laughed.
“Oooh, you mean Georgie, the little blond; yes, she’s certainly got a way with words. Yes, she lives here but she’s in school at the mo.’.”
Allison decided to wait after dining and thus she spent some time examining the artefacts that Dot had recovered or scrounged from the archaeology of the basin excavations. She also studied the photographs recording the work and she recognised ‘the little blond’ in a couple of the pictures. Next she went to look at the little museum that was approaching completion next to the stable restaurant suite. After satisfying her interests she returned to find that Dot had replaced Sam behind the bar while Sam was preparing to collect Georgie from the bus stop because the sleet had turned to snow.
Allison’s husband Fred had also noted the snow,
“Weathers turning mucky!” Fred frowned as he stared through the pub’s ancient bay window. “We’d best be making tracks.”
“Oh let’s wait awhile,” Allison pleaded. “Some of the snow is sticking and I’d like to take a couple of pictures with snow to see what a Christmas scene would look like for a card. Those warehouses look stunning and positively Dickensian, while this twilight just sets it off perfectly.”
Reggie shrugged. He was already too drunk to drive so Allison would have to drive home through the snow, or at least as far as the little hotel in the town. He was au’ fait with his wife’s visual and photographic skills and if she said the failing light was just perfect to get the shades and shadows right, then far be it for him to question her. He settled comfortably into one of the wing-back chairs beside the open fire while his wife ventured out into the snow with her camera.
Once outside, Allison quickly took her coat and boots from the car and set out across the basin to get her pictures. Then her professional photographer’s eye caught The Harbour Light in the encroaching gloom and she also got some excellent pictures of the pub as the snow dusted the old stone-slab, roof tiles and ancient polled stonework. The contrasting polled stone and patterned dustings of snow served exquisitely to emphasise the pub’s rugged antiquity and she was ecstatic with her results. Her joy was complete when she spied Sam’s car returning to the pub forecourt with Georgie at the wheel.
Allison timed it so that she met Georgie in the pub porch just as she was stamping the snow off her school uniform shoes.
“Oh hello again. Trevor’s friend I believe. – (Or is that Trevor’s son?”) She asked sub voce.
Allison had to admire the girl for not appearing to flinch or twitch as she appeared to just lean casually against the door-post before gazing steadily into Allison’s face.
“Are you asking or telling?” Georgie inquired while she seemed to successfully hide any alarm.
“Well if you are Trevor’s child, and you are what your mother believes you to be, then she desperately wants to meet you.”
“Too late!” Georgie replied forcibly. “She’s got no say now cos I’m technically fostered!”
“She would still like to meet you though, probably to apologise I suspect, if nothing else.”
“No way!” Georgie snapped sharply. “And I’ll thank you not to go blathering to her about my whereabouts. I’m technically in the care of the S.S., and I’ll be eighteen in a few weeks anyway. Even if she does want to see me, she’d have to go through the S.S.”
“Well, can I give her your mobile number? She’ll be able to contact you without her new partner knowing.”
Georgie paused thoughtfully then offered a compromise.
“No, those sorts of deals never work. Her new partner Terry is a bully and if he suspected my mother was in contact with me he’d steal my number from her phone, or worse, come searching for me. Give me your number, then after I’m eighteen, I’ll revisit this issue. That’s only a few weeks anyway and I want to discuss everything with my dad first.”
“Okay then, I’m glad to see that you’re still fond of your dad; I knew your dad when we were at school together; oh! and by the way.”
“What?” Georgie squinted suspiciously.
“You make a beautiful girl. I’m really impressed.” Allison remarked with a knowing smile.
This brought a delightful smile to Georgie’s face and she brightened up immediately.
“Thank you, thank you very much! How did you clock me?”
“As I said, I’ve known Trevor since we were at school and I know what children he had. Truly, you’re very pretty but be careful, don’t go breaking some boy’s heart!”
On this note they parted and Georgie almost bounced into their living room were Sam and Dot were just about to share a pot of tea. Dot looked up expectantly, for she had remembered Allisons face from the previous visit.
“Isn’t the lady staying to meet Trevor again?”
“Yes. She’s an old school friend of dad’s from way back. Her husband was concerned about the snow even though he isn’t driving.”
Sam grinned as she observed.
“If he moves down here, he’s going to make one hell of a customer, he likes his whisky.”
Georgie nodded and smiled with amusement.
“Well at least he seems to be a nice drunk, he was thoughtful to his wife about not driving too far. He said they’re staying at the Blue Boar Inn by the Cross in town.”
“Well, that’s a nice establishment so he’s not skimping.” Dot added. “He’ll be welcome, provided he doesn’t invite ‘Load’s a’ money’ and his mates down here too often. We’re a respectable establishment.” She finished somewhat ‘tongue-in-cheek.’
Georgie let out a shriek of amusement as she scolded Dot in jest.
“Respectable!? Mum! We’re a bloody gay pub that puts on drag shows every weekend.”
With that the three of them fell to chuckling before Georgie went upstairs to do her homework. She also called her dad to discuss the day’s events and Allison’s visit.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
On the phone she had a genuine ‘heart-to-heart’ talk with her dad as she revealed all her feelings and fears. What she liked about her dad was that he listened and didn’t keep interrupting with suggested solutions. He only spoke if Georgie asked him something. It was obvious that Trevor knew his daughter well and she was the sort of person who would find her own solutions eventually. Georgie finished by asking her dad the ‘make-or-break’ question.
“Should I reconnect with mum and will it upset you?”
“Well the last part is easy darling; it certainly won’t upset me; though I don’t think I would want it to get between you and me. By that I mean, you don’t have to take sides. Now as to the first part, well, might I make a suggestion?”
“By all means.” Georgie enthused.
“Okay, if you do decide you want to pick up with her again, arrange to meet her at a neutral location and meet her alone. Test the waters before you think of going deeper like meeting your brother and sister and be very cautious about that Terence fellow, her new husband, your step-dad. Make sure he doesn’t find out where you live. You told me he physically manhandled you out of your home when he found you dressing.”
Georgie nodded slowly as she confirmed it and Trevor could hear the resentment in his daughter’s voice.
“Yes.” She finally replied softly. “He nearly dislocated my shoulder, tore some ligaments and caused a hairline green-stick fracture in my humerous.”
Trevor expressed his anger then felt there was little more constructive to be said so he finished the call and left Georgie to lie on her bed staring thoughtfully at the bedroom ceiling. Trevor however immediately dialled Allison.
“Yes, it’s me, Trevor.” He confirmed. “You met Georgie today?”
“Yes. Her mother want’s to meet her.”
“Well I think it best that we leave that decision to Georgie. I presume you know that Lucy’s new partner was violent towards Georgie when he caught her cross-dressing.”
“Yes, she told me that and I agree we should leave it to Georgie. She’s nearly an adult now.”
Trevor felt a weight lifted of his mind as he realised that Allison still seemed to be the sensible girl he had always known her for. He thanked Allison for her thoughtfulness and then he went to bed.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Dot and Sam 15
Dorothy Philpot. Landlady of The Harbour Light pub
Sam Philpot. Drag-queen.
Billy Parkins Doorkeeper.
Jessica Merlot The town’ and county archaeologist.
Josephine MacDonald The town and county archivist.
Richard Drummond Town planning inspector
Robert Vincent. Junior planning inspector.
Georgina. (Georgie) Homeless Transgender girl.
Bobby Gay boy on the school bus.
Marty Girl on the school bus.
Jack. Marty’s twin brother (Keen runner).
Trevor Aitkins, Georgie’s Biological father.
Lucinda Aitkins Georgie’s biological mother
Allison. Old school friend of Trevor
Fred Allison’s husband.
On the morning of her eighteenth birthday Georgie woke to find some small packages on her dressing-room table. Her eyes lit up with delight as she recognised it as jewellery from Dot and Sam, and an envelope with her dad’s writing. There was a substantial cheque and a letter.
“Dearest Georgie I am so sorry that I am unable to give you any of your grandmother’s jewellery but I gave it all to your sister Elizabeth when your paternal gran died. Please understand I did not know you were a girl then. Here is your eighteenth birthday present by way of compensation. I was thinking originally of a car but I leave that decision to you. The cheque would cover it if you chose to but I would advise waiting until Uni when there will be another check to reward your efforts if you succeed in gaining an entry scholarship.
I’ll be down on to see you late on Friday, so until then xx.
Dad.
P.S.
If your sister Elizabeth is as caring as your gran was , perhaps one day, she might give you one of your grandmother’s pieces as a sisterly token of sharing. They are quite valuable.
Love Dad.
Georgie shed a slight tear, half in sorrow and half in joy, then she placed the letter and birthday presents in the locked drawer of her dressing table before getting ready for school. After thanking Dot and Sam profusely, she set off to school on her bike. It was late February; very cold and wet. At the school, her friends had prepared a ‘cake party’ and there were enough titbits to go around the class several times. By way of thanking them, she declared that there was a party after Friday’s drag show at the Harbour light. Unsurprisingly, the offer was taken up by the whole class.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
On the Friday, news of Georgie’s birthday party had spread further than her classmates had anticipated and eventually, Dot was forced to hire some extra security as some unsavoury characters appeared and tried to blag their way in. Billy the regular doorkeeper found himself hard-pressed to keep the prospective gate-crashers at bay and he was eternally thankful for Dot’s foresight. Additionally, several of the regular attendees to the drag-shows offered to back Billy and his team up. Dot was also eternally grateful that The Harbour Light pub had been built with historical piratical raids in mind. For when gate-crashers had endeavoured to force entry via the fire escapes, they had been chagrined to find that, whilst easy to open from within, the old medieval oak-studded doors were virtually impossible to force from without.
The consequent mayhem outside the pub on the muddy banks of the river when the drug dealers found themselves locked out, was further exacerbated when the police and sniffer dogs arrived. Cold wet February nights are not the best times for drug dealers to find themselves falling foul of the police on a slippery, muddy riverbank. The gangs found themselves seriously out of pocket after having to dump their drugs in the river.
Inside the bar of The Harbour Light, Sam’s drag show was a resounding success while the karaoke competition produced some surprising stars from the school’s ranks. When Trevor arrived long after midnight he found the party only just beginning to wind down as parents collected some children while others made their prearranged ways home. Eventually he located Georgie ensconced with her coterie of close female friends in the ‘snug’ chattering about the nights events. When she saw her dad, she sprang from her seat and lurched across the snug.
“Drunk I see, but safe!” He charged his daughter as he exchanged a knowing wink with Dot who had obviously kept an eye on the wayward friends.”
Georgie swayed as she tried a comical excuse. “I’m not pregnant Dad!”
“I’d be bloody surprised if you were kiddo! But you’re stupidly drunk.”
“Y – yes.” She stuttered, “B – but drug free!”
“Well, that’s a small mercy. Bed’s the best place for you.”
“Aaww Da-ad. The night’s still young.” She begged.
“Yes, but sadly you’re no longer young Missy; you’re eighteen and an adult and it’s nearly five o’clock! Too late even for a pyjama party!”
“Can’t I stay up until late?”
“It’s already late girl. Look, the bar is empty, there’s the dawn and Dot’s locking up.”
Then Trevor had a sudden nervous thought.
“Where are your friends sleeping?”
“Up in my bedroom, you said it just now; a pyjama party!”
Trevor’s eyes widened with concern as he caught Dot’s eye across the bar. After extricating himself from his drunken daughter’s embrace he crossed to the bar and whispered to Dot.
“Do the girls know?”
Dot nodded and shrugged with a grin.
“Modern times Trevor. Yes, all those in the snug know. Look they’re making their way upstairs even now.”
Trevor turned disbelievingly as the last girl was giggling drunkenly up the stairs beside the bar.
“Jeeze! I’d better lock my door tonight, that lot look loaded for bear!”
Dot let out a snort of laughter and chuckled.
“Most men would be dreaming and hoping Trev. I applaud your morality. Six nubile seventeen and eighteen-year-old’s scampering about on your landing.”
“Six would kill me Dot. I’m not a young man anymore, and by that I mean under fifty.”
“Come and have a hot brandy to warm you up. In half an hour that I’ll bet you that twitter of canaries will all be asleep!”
Trevor gratefully accepted the offer and waved to the security camera simply to record his probity as he ducked behind the bar into Dot’s living room. There he fully availed himself of Dot’s half hour pratique. Eventually, it was an hour before Trevor reached his bed and the whole landing was as silent as the grave.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Late Saturday morning eventually produced the ‘teenaged-walk-of shame’ as the girls argued about descending into the public bar. Trevor emerged onto the landing as he heard the collective whispers debating such a public stunt.
“Go on down you silly scaredy-cats. Dot’s closed the bar so no one will see you. The diners are using the stable restaurant instead.”
“Thank you Mr Aitkins. Your daughter’s a scream.”
Trevor just gave a knowing look as he contemplated the fact that the girls knew Georgie’s secret.
“Yes, so I’ve been told. I’ll need to chat with her later.”
“Will that be the mummy daughter chat?” One wag asked and the whole bevvy of girls shrieked with laughter.
Trevor reddened slightly and wagged his head with concerned amusement as he made his way down the stairs.
As a gang, the girls trudged down collectively to find decent brunch awaiting them and with grateful thanks soon demolished the lot.
“Thank-you Miss Philpot, that was delicious.” They chorused as they filtered back upstairs to decide what they were going to do for the Saturday afternoon.
It being Georgie’s eighteenth birthday, she was excused duties and she was accompanying the girls into town. Her birthday money was trying to burn a hole in her purse but Trevor smiled inwardly as he found her stashing most of her birthday money in the pub safe.
“Asbestos purse love?” He grinned as Georgie slammed the safe shut on her envelope.
“Yeah” Georgie grinned self-consciously. “No holes were burned during the accumulation of these monies!”
“Glad to see it darling. If you carry on like that, I’ll see you right for uni, you know; no debt after three years.
“Thank you daddy,” she whispered tearfully as she went up to join her friends planning for the Saturday afternoon.
After chatting briefly with Dot about Georgie’s hoped for future and other things, Trevor donned his waterproofs and went for another walk around the basin followed by a long, brisk walk along the old canal behind the town centre. When he returned, he met Georgie already returned from town.
“I’ve had some letters,” she told him.
“Birthday cards?” Trevor asked.
“Some are but there’s two important ones.”
“Go on. I’m thinking you want to talk.”
“One’s from Allison, asking if I’m interested in meeting mum. I’m not ready for that yet. The second one is from the SS and it concerns my education after eighteen.”
“Have you told them I’m back on the scene?”
“No. I need some advice on that. It might affect my allowances it they think you’re supporting me.”
“Well, we’ll make it legal love. The last thing you want is worries about funds when going to uni and transitioning simultaneously. I’ll meet the SS soon and we’ll sort it. Best if your honest love, it helps you to keep your self-respect.”
“When are you going back to Birmingham?” She asked.
“Tuesday morning. I’ve got some business to do with the developers. How do you like the new cottages behind the warehouses?”
“They’re really good, they’ve all been sold I see.”
“Yes, Allison and Fred took the last but one. They intend to retire there. I told them to take the furthest one and sleep in the back bedroom. It’s deathly quiet over there, even when The Harbour Light is rocking.”
After sharing a light dinner with Dot and Sam, father and daughter separated to shower and they met as the Drag queens were arriving to dress for the show. Marty also arrived on her bike because Sam had invited her to see the artists getting prepared.
“You perve!” Georgie chided her jokingly. All those weird men and you such a pretty girl.”
“So what!” Marty scoffed. “You’re in and out all the time! – And as for pretty; - well! Pot, – kettle?”
“I can’t get pregnant though,” Georgie teased.
Soon, Georgie was busy behind the bar while Marty managed to wangle a couple of hours as a pot girl once the show started. At the end of the show, that was by mid-morning, Marty was dead on her feet and she flopped down exhausted on the bed as Georgie appeared after helping Dot to lock up.
“Which side d’ you sleep on?” She asked Marty.
For a moment, Marty had to think because usually, she tossed and turned all night. Finally she decided her right side and Georgie nodded approvingly.
“Okay, you sleep this side then we sleep facing each other and hopefully, nobody gets kicked out of bed.”
The pair grinned knowingly for it was the first time they were to spend the night together. As Marty started to undress, Georgie reached nervously for the switch and plunged the room into darkness. Only the cold light of the full moon picked out their pale ghostly bodies and Marty demanded.
“What j’oo do that for?” Marty demanded.
“I don’t want you staring.”
“Crikey! Are you that afraid? I thought I was the one who should be nervous.”
“It’s not that, it’s just, well it’s just that I’m you know, not right down there, I’m small.”
“Well you ain’t small up there anymore. I can see them clear as day in this moon light.”
“They’re not that big!” Georgie protested.
“Well maybe not but they’re sure as hell attractive. Lovely and creamy and white. Get your balcony bra off and lets just cuddle for now.”
“Don’t go down there then. You know I don’t like being reminded of it.”
“What’ choo doin now?” Marty demanded.
“Getting my nighty.”
“Jeeze Georgie. Just come here!” Marty giggled as she picked just the right moment when Georgie was unclasping her bra.
Caught off balance, Georgie plumped down onto the bed only to feel delicate fingers reach over to trace a path across her freed breasts.
“Hmm, that’s nice,” she gasped as Marty’s leg slid gently between her knees.
Georgie shuddered with nervous anticipation and Marty sighed with pleasure as her lips found Georgie’s. Soon the only sounds were those of inquisitive, urgent exploration as Georgie eventually lost all inhibitions surrounding her ‘abnormality’ and discovered that sex was good even when her equipment had initially seemed inadequate. Sleep soon came after they had satiated their urgency.
Eventually, it was the rattling of driving rain on the bedroom window that dragged them to consciousness the following noon.
Before the calls of nature, Georgie found herself admiring Marty’s delicious derriere as her friend kneeled on the bed and pushed her face between the curtains to savour the view across the river. Georgie slipped out of bed and couldn’t resist one last gentle stroke of Marty’s bum before slipping to the bathroom. Marty quickly followed her and they shared the next new adventure, namely soaping themselves together in the shower.
Nothing was said when they eventually arrived downstairs but the indulgent smiles told the girls that the adults in their lives held no censure. Self consciously they made their own breakfasts then Trevor suggested they go for a brief walk in the estuary. Marty responded that she would prefer to walk along the canal towpath as she was looking for material concerning the final chapter of her history dissertation. She defended her preference by declaring that there was plenty of interesting bird life around the canal so Trevor could indulge his hobby.
~~~~~~~~~~~
Dot and Sam 16
Dorothy Philpot. Landlady of The Harbour Light pub
Sam Philpot. Drag-queen.
Billy Parkins Doorkeeper.
Jessica Merlot The town’ and county archaeologist.
Josephine MacDonald The town and county archivist.
Richard Drummond Town planning inspector
Robert Vincent. Junior planning inspector.
Georgina. (Georgie) Homeless Transgender girl.
Bobby Gay boy on the school bus.
Marty Girl on the school bus.
Jack. Marty’s twin brother (Keen runner).
Trevor Aitkins, Georgie’s Biological father.
Lucinda Aitkins Georgie’s biological mother
Terence Georgie’s step-dad
Allison. Old school friend of Trevor & Retired Solicitor.
Fred Allisons husband
That Sunday afternoon, Marty and Georgie accompanied Georgie’s dad Trevor as they trudged through the snow on the canal towpath. Initially, they savoured the pristine purity of the snow scrunching under their feet but as they approached the town, the path behind the town hall was more heavily trod and the brown slush was less attractive. Georgie explained that she knew of a less trafficked path and on reaching the little gate half hidden behind a snow laden hawthorn bush they again found themselves scrunching through the unblemished snow. This eventually brought them to a small copse of trees and Trevor took out his binoculars. The girls paused curiously behind him then he whispered.
“There; in-between that fallen tree and the forked scotch pine. See them?”
“What’re we looking for?” Whispered Marty.
“Fallow deer,” Trevor explained, “see the white spots on their backs.”
“Oooh yes. Are they wild?” She asked as Georgie tugged at the binocular straps.
“I can’t say,” Trevor confessed. “I think these fields are private though, so if you wanted to shoot one, you’d have to beg the farmer for permission to shoot.”
“How did you know to look for them?” Marty wondered.
“The height of that fence bordering the woods. It must be at least six feet.”
“Is that to protect them?” Marty pressed.
“No.” Trevor answered distractedly as he searched the undergrowth behind the high fence.
“Aren’t they protected?” Georgie asked her dad.
“It depends. If they are too numerous and causing crop damage, and the farmer can prove it; he’s entitled to shoot them on his own land.”
“There’s only four that I can see.” Georgie reported as she handed the binoculars back to an impatient Marty.
“There’ll be more deeper in the trees keeping an aye on us, I’ll wager.” Trevor declared, “Those winter sugar beet will be just too big a temptation.”
“But they’re behind the fence, in the woods.” Marty pointed out.
“Exactly,” Trevor agreed, “That fence is designed to stop them. They can clear four feet easily, possibly five.”
As he spoke there was a sharp crack and one of the deer bolted into the fence, only to collapse struggling then lying still.
“Stay still!” Trevor ordered.
“But they’re shooting.” Georgie squealed.
“Your orange hoody will protect you best. It’s best that we’re clearly visible!”
As he explained, Trevor let off a long. “Helloo-oo! Into the woods.”
After a few seconds, a man emerged from some bushes behind the fence.
“You’re a bit off the footpath!” He called. “It runs through the centre of the field, not by the fence. Did you see where it dropped?”
“Yes, against the fence by the bushiest hawthorn tree.” Trevor pointed.
The farmer raised is hand nonchalantly and went to collect his kill. As he passed the girls and Trevor he casually explained.
“I had you in sight all the time and good girl for wearing the bright orange top.”
“Do you have to kill them? Can’t you just scare them?” Marty asked.
“They’re a serious pest missy. I’ll show you the damage they’ve done to my Swede crop.”
As he spoke, he motioned to a door in the fence and unlocked it.
“I can see you’re a bit upset; but come and see.”
Georgie had often walked by the woods and frequently wondered about the high fence. Now was an opportunity to visit the hereto forbidden woods. As the farmer led them through the silent glades Georgie’s sharp eyes spotted several wild things she’d never seen before. The woods were a virtual wild-life refuge. While Trevor chatted with the farmer, Georgie frequently tugged at Marty’s sleeve to point out a fox or a stoat, even a red squirrel.
“It’s like the bloody Serengeti”! Marty gasped with delight. “Look! There’s a green woodpecker!”
They trudged through the woods for nearly half an hour before reaching the other side where the farmer opened another wire door and then showed the grazing damage that the deer had done to his field of swedes.
“There must be a quarter of an acre lost to nibbling the leaves, and if they’re not stopped, they’ll destroy the whole field. I only received my pest control licence yesterday so I count this kill as my declaration of war.”
“Can’t you trap them and release them somewhere else.” Marty pleaded.
“They’ll only damage some other farmers lively-hood. Best I shoot them and sell the venison. Then next week, I’ll have to extend the deer fence for nearly a mile to protect these fields. The deer meat will perhaps help pay for the fencing.”
As he said this, Georgie fell to thinking but she kept her ideas silent to avoid upsetting Marty. When they finally got home, she approached Dot.
“Do you cook venison?”
“Why do you ask.” Dot wondered.
“There’s a farmer having trouble with Fallow deer on the other side of the woods. He’s exterminating them and he says he’ll sell the meat. Maybe you could do a deal.”
Dot raised her eyebrows and nodded thoughtfully. It was always good to source one’s meat locally and Venison certainly added an exotic element to one’s menu. She resolved to visit the farmer with Georgie at her side. Two days later, the deal was struck and The Harbour Light had added locally sourced venison (subject to availability,) to its menu. When Georgie sighted the newly printed list of fare, she felt she had established a true and legitimate interest in the business.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Sometime in early April, when the flush of Spring had started to crown the trees with rich hues of assorted greens, Georgie received another letter from Allison. As she opened it, she debated to herself whether she should reply and risk opening a can of worms. She decided to discuss it with Dot and Sam first for, despite her love for her father, it was Dot and Sam who had rescued her from living rough. She still considered Dot her surrogate mother. Dot read it first then handed it to Sam who had stepped in from cleaning duties behind the bar. They both settled on the sofa as Georgie flopped down in one of the wingback chairs.
“Well, Allison and her husband are definitely moving down here so I suppose it will only be a matter of time before your mother Lucy comes down to visit her. Your dad Trevor tells me they are still close friends.” Dot ventured
Georgie paused thoughtfully before pointing out.
“I’ll probably be going to Uni’ next September so hopefully I’ll be gone during term times. By then I expect to have transitioned and maybe my egg donor won’t recognise me.”
“When’s your op?” Sam asked.
“My dad Trevor has agreed to pay for it. Once he discovered that I have frozen some sperm he was agreeable to my op and he’ll pay.”
“Lucky you.” Dot smiled wistfully, “I had to wait years for mine.”
“Well, I can only thank my dad for the op and Dot for helping me start hormones legally. I was taking them illegally until that bastard Terry threw me out.”
“Yeah and it shows,” Sam giggled. “I’ve watched the boys staring at you.”
“Do you think my egg donor would recognise me if she comes to visit Allison?” Georgie asked.
“I don’t know what you looked like as a boy love; but if she’s looking for a boy, she won’t find one. Hair and makeup can do a lot, not to mention those!”
She nodded briefly towards Georgie’s boobs.
“Do you think Allison’s told your mother that you’re transitioning?” Dot continued.
“I hope not.” Georgie frowned. “I begged her not to.”
“I think it might be a good idea to invite Allison down and check to see if she’s kept quiet about Georgie. She can stay here if that house they’re buying is not completed.”
“Is that wise?” Georgie asked again.
“Well run it by Trevor first, he’ll be over in his own apartment across the river lock this evening and he’ll be wanting to see you anyway, I’m sure.”
This news reassured Georgie for she now considered her dad to be her rock and guiding star, especially after he had proved to be so supportive about her transitioning. Thus encouraged, she set about her weekend Saturday work with gusto.
An hour after she started, two of her school friends turned up as they had organised earlier that week.
“Oh Hi.” Georgie grinned widely as her two classmates wheeled their bikes into the storeroom behind the stable.
Marty and Julie parked their bikes then quickly donned their outfits and pitched in as the restaurant was filling up. Soon there was little time for chat and it continued in this vein until the restaurant closed at ten. After Dot demanded that the friends confirm with their parents, they were allowed to continue as ‘bottle-boys’ and occasional bar-maids to boost their wages. By now most of Georgie’s classmates were over eighteen anyway and weekends at The Harbour Light had become a popular venue with their class. On the Sunday morning, after driving her class-mates home, Georgie discussed Allison’s letter with her dad.
“Well in truth darling, you can’t actually stop her from coming down. I believe they’ve agreed a purchase and the first monthly instalment has been paid. I’m afraid she’s our neighbour now.”
“Well I’ll still tell Allison that I don’t want to see my egg donor, and I’ll thank her not to expect me to meet her or make her welcome. Allison and Fred are okay but the problem is my egg donor and that bastard of a step-dad!”
Trevor could easily see the hurt and anger in his daughter’s eyes and he nodded sympathetically.
During the following week, Allison arrived with her husband and started moving the first odds and ends of furniture into their ‘cottage’ as they liked to call it, for the natural stonework lent itself to a Dickensian charm. Georgie bumped into them that evening as they stopped in the pub for a drink while she was coming home from school.
“Hello darling,” Allison offered while her husband Fred smiled and extended his hand.
“ Hullo.” Georgie responded mutedly as she paused with her schoolbooks in her arms.
The books gave Allison an opportunity to make some conversation with the obviously reluctant girl.
“How’s school going love?”
“Fine thanks.”
“A Level’s soon, are you looking forward to them?”
Georgie cocked her head and shrugged as she went to start up the stairs beside the bar.
“Anticipating them. More like.” She replied. “Hardly looking forward to them.”
“Your mother sends her regards.” Allison tried.
“Really!” Georgie smirked. “That’s not something I’d take seriously; her ‘regards’ that is.”
“She seriously regrets what happened.”
“Yeah; so do I, but I’m safe now.”
“Is there any hope of reconciliation?”
Again, Georgie gave a teenaged noncommittal shrug before declaring.
“There’s no need for me to seek reconciliation. I get all the care and love I need from Dot and Sam plus of course my dad. If she wants to seek reconciliation she’d best distance herself from that bastard Terence.”
Allison sagged slightly with disappointment. It seemed the rift between her best friend Lucinda and her transgendered child George was one that was too big for Allison to heal. She gave a slight nod and Georgie took that as the signal that their conversation was ended. Georgie turned to continue upstairs while Allison and her husband Fred stepped out into the courtyard to enjoy the scene in the tidal basin. They were still sitting there when Trevor returned from business. He waved across the river lock to them before entering his new office across the basin.
Later he emerged to cross the dock gate to the pub only to find Allison and Fred still sat at a table in the courtyard.
“Hello you two. D’ you fancy another drink?”
Allison grinned happily. She had been hoping Trevor would want to talk and her expectations had proved accurate. Moments later Sam emerged with a tray of drinks as Trevor sat with Allison and Fred.
“It doesn’t look as though George will ever reconcile with his mother.” Allison offered.
“You mean Georgie reconciling with her mother.”
“Sorry. Old habits die hard.”
“Well give yourselves time. The more you’re around her, the easier it will become.”
“Do you think there is any hope. Lucy’s pretty distraught about losing hi – I mean her.”
“Just give her time and don’t pressure her. Whatever you do, try and avoid bringing Lucy and Terry down here unless Georgie’s at college. She sees The Harbour Light as her safe refuge.”
“A gay pub where they have drag shows every weekend; and she calls that her safe house.” Allison mused ironically.
“It is safer for her than the home where she was raised became. That shouts volumes about a child growing up transgendered,” Trevor countered, “and I feel guilty to some extent for that.”
“You weren’t to know Trevor, don’t beat yourself up about it.” Allison soothed him. “She’s turned out okay and she’s at least got her dad.”
Having exhausted the subject of Georgie they fell to discussing the new ‘cottages’ on the far side of the basin and Georgie found them thus as darkness was falling.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Dot and Sam 17
Dorothy Philpot. Landlady of The Harbour Light pub
Sam Philpot. Drag-queen.
Billy Parkins Doorkeeper.
Jessica Merlot The town’ and county archaeologist.
Josephine MacDonald The town and county archivist.
Richard Drummond Town planning inspector
Robert Vincent. Junior planning inspector.
Georgina. (Georgie) Homeless Transgender girl previously known as George.
Bobby Gay boy on the school bus.
Marty Girl on the school bus. (She becomes Georgie’s best friend and lover)
Jack. Marty’s twin brother (Keen runner).
Trevor Aitkins, Georgie’s Biological father.
Lucinda Aitkins Georgie’s biological mother
Terence Georgie’s step-dad
Allison. Old school friend of Trevor
Fred Allison's husband
Elizabeth Aitkins Georgie’s younger sister. Later proves to be sympathetic to her ‘sister’
Jonathon Aitkins Georgie’s younger brother.
“You’re late love,” Trevor observed as Georgie dismounted and grinned.
“Singing in the rain dad.”
“You look like a drowned rat girl!” Allison exclaimed. “You’d best get changed first.”
“I stayed late hoping it would ease but it just kept on so I did my homework at late-club. Eventually I couldn’t hold off. Anyway, a bit of rain can’t harm you.”
“Dinner’s in half an hour!” Dot called from the kitchen.
Georgie made her excuses to go and shower then rejoined them later as Sam was laying the table.
“You timed that nicely,” Sam remarked as Georgie secured her still damp hair.
Soon the table was alive with chat as they discussed the forthcoming formal re-opening of the basin. However everybody refrained from discussing ‘the elephant in the room’ namely Georgie’s biological mother finding out where Georgie was living. Eventually, it was Georgie with typical, teenaged bluntness, who raised the subject.
“Will you be inviting your friend Lucy down here Allison?”
“Yes love, it would be rude of me not to, being as she’s my best friend – and your mother I have to add.”
“Well please give me warning. I’m still not ready to meet her so I’ll arrange to be absent.”
“Do you ever intend to forgive her?” Allison pressed cautiously.
“That’s unlikely if that boyfriend of hers Terence is around.”
Allison nodded somewhat dejectedly and a sombre mood descended over the table. It did not ascend until Georgie returned to her bedroom to finish her homework. Allison did not meet her again until briefly during breakfast. There on the landing, Georgie courteously reinforced her request.
“Please don’t reveal my whereabouts to my egg donor.”
Allison nodded disappointedly and she watched Georgie mount her bike for school before turning to explain to Dot.
“The problem is that Lucy, her mum, often just drops in for a chat back home. I don’t know if she’ll continue doing so when we move down here.”
“Surely not!” Dot frowned. “It’s nearly a hundred and fifty miles away.”
“I’m not sure. We are good friends and I enjoy her company.”
“It seems to be her step-dad Terry that’s the problem.” Dot opined.
Allison nodded resignedly. “Yeah, he’s something of a religious bully but he’s generous to the other children.”
“Well provided Georgie gets prior warning, things should work out. Once she’s gone to college the situation should ease.”
“Will she qualify for Uni?” Allison wondered.
“Oh yes, she’s already passed most of her exams. She’s smart.” Dot replied emphatically. “She’s red hot at maths and sciences.”
“Well, we’ll just have to play it by ear.” Allison concluded.
“Will you be coming down for the festivities when the Basin is opened?”
“We’d very much like to. Fred always likes a party and we should be fully moved into our new cottage by then.”
They chatted briefly before Dot and Sam bid them farewell. Trevor had already left early for London before anybody else had risen.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
With the date for the formal opening of the basin approaching, the people who had bought houses and the traders who had opened shops began decking the whole site in bunting and fairy lights in anticipation of the festivities stretching into the late evening. Naturally, The Harbour Light played a large hand both in the preparations and catering. For Georgie however the idea that her mother Lucinda and her step-father Terence would turn up, played heavily on her mind. To try and set her worries aside, she concentrated intensely on organising the festivities for the grand re-opening of the basin. This gave her an excuse to lie low in her bedroom if, perchance, her mother and step-dad appeared. She also looked towards Dot and Sam for protection if they did show up.
Inevitably, the pair did show up once Allison and Fred had settled into their cottage but fortunately Dot was able to warn Georgie. Thus Georgie stayed in her room during the evenings and Sam assisted by driving Georgie to school to avoid any accidental encounters. For a couple of days it became a game of ‘cat-and-mouse’ with Georgie staying in her bedroom. Eventually, Lucinda and Terry left and the whole atmosphere relaxed.
“Well I’m glad they didn’t stay for the grand opening.” Georgie rejoiced. “That would have really ruined things. Roll on Saturday I say.”
Everybody nodded agreement.
“I presume they must have had something important back home,” Dot opined.
“Not Really,” Fred confessed with a tight little smile playing on his lips. “I simply told them my brother was coming down for the festivities and there wasn’t room enough on his boat for all his family. Lucinda had to accept it because she’d already availed herself and Terry of our hospitality. My brother hopes to hire one of the berths in the basin.”
“So a real family affair.” Sam chuckled.
Allison grinned. “My sister in law’s like a rabbit. Five kids plus grandchildren.”
“Makes a useful excuse though,” Fred laughed. “It means we’ve always got a readymade excuse to prevent people staying. – ‘Sorry my brother/ sister and their family are coming down.’ You can feel safe Georgie, just tell us when your down from college.”
“Thanks Fred, here have one on me.” Georgie smiled the widest smile she could as she stepped behind the bar to pull a double whisky from the optic.
“You know me too well!” Fred laughed as he tipped the extra tot into his glass. “But you make the world’s best barmaid!”
The grand re-opening of the basin took place over the whole weekend and Georgie savoured the festivities as any young girl should. She did her fair share of work in the pub and this served to make her well known around the basin. The Harbour Light became the focal point for much of the revelry during the weekend while the newly opened museum provided a formal location to enjoy the ceremonial activities. Georgie found herself on call for both, mainly because several of the historic photo displays included images of Georgie engaged in various activities from ‘mud-larking’ to stone masonry. She had by dint of just being present during most of the excavations and renovations, become a useful source of knowledge. This coupled with her earlier associations with the previously derelict basin and ravaged buildings enabled her to provide meaningful historic input. The whole weekend cemented Georgie into the psyche of the ‘Basin community.’
Unfortunately, this publicity finally exposed Georgie to the regional press and it was not long before Georgie’s younger sister came to hear about her through their online websites.
Georgie’s younger sister Elizabeth contacted her father and asked if he knew anything about the girl involved with the basin project in the small town where she knew he now had an office. Trevor immediately alerted Dot, Sam, Allison and Fred
On realising this, Dot concluded that Georgie would be eventually forced to confront her family and after another ‘family session’ Trevor agreed to meet with Georgie’s younger sister to explain Georgie’s dilemma. He agreed to meet Elizabeth his daughter privately at a café in Birmingham city centre.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Outside Birmingham New Street station, Trevor sat savouring the warm morning sun as he monitored the exit. Despite the crowds, he quickly spotted Elizabeth as she emerged searching the crowd for her father. When she spotted him approaching her, she smiled broadly and quickly wrapped her arms around him. After exchanging intimacies Trevor suggested a café in Hurst Street. As they sat savouring their brunch, Elizabeth asked knowingly.
“Is this Birmingham’s gay village daddy?”
“Yes darling.”
She squinted with a penetrating glint to her eye as she paused with her coffee cup in hand.
“Is this some sort of precursor to George, my brother?”
“Yes darling.”
“So you do know about him; his cross-dressing and stuff?”
“Yes darling.”
“Go on.”
“I’ve met your sibling but she’s your sister now. I see her every week and I can assure you, she’s safe and well.”
He let these words take root and waited as the silence endured while Elizabeth digested the news. As he realised Elizabeth was at something of a loss to respond, he eased her uncertainty.
“She calls herself Georgina now, and she will be transitioning to a female this summer now she’s passed her A’ levels.”
“Daddy, I want to meet her.”
“That can be arranged.”
“How soon?”
“Today, if you wish. D’ you want to phone her?”
“Pleease!”
Trevor smiled as he dialled the number then Elizabeth squirmed as the dial tone lasted long seconds, to almost a minute.
“She’s not answering.” Elizabeth whined as she reached for Trevor’s phone.
“Be patient, she’s a busy girl on Saturdays.” Trevor smiled as he switched his phone to speaker.
Just as he did this, Georgie answered.
“Dad? What’s the news?”
By way of an answer, Trevor handed the phone to Elizabeth who gripped it excitedly .
“George, is that you?”
“Is that Elizabeth?”
“Yes! Mum’s gone crazy about you!”
“That’ll have to wait, and it’s Georgie now. I presume Dad’s told you.”
“Yes. Yes, I want to meet you. Daddy says we can meet today if your agreeable.”
“Where and when, I’m working till six, then I’m back on at nine til late. Saturday is my busiest day.”
Elizabeth looked beseechingly at her dad who answered.
“We can meet in Bristol or at the basin. Speak to Dot about arranging a couple of extra hours off and I’ll refund your wages.”
Both Trevor and his daughter Elizabeth listened to Georgie making arrangements with Dot.
“Of course you can girl. This is a pub not a bloody slave galley.” Dot cackled. “Are you there Daddy?”
“All ears luv.” Trevor chuckled.
“Get the next train and phone me to pick you up. Give me half an hour’s notice.”
“Yav-hol her major!” Trevor grinned across the table to Elizabeth.
As Trevor paid the bill, Elizabeth chatted at length with her new-found sister until Georgie had to ring off.”
“Gorra go Sis, duty calls see you this’avvie.”
Reluctantly, Elizabeth returned the phone to her father but not before transferring the number to her own phone. Trevor realised what she was doing and cautioned her.
“Don’t let your mother or step-father learn the identity of your sister’s number. Technically, she’s not given you permission. Well; not yet anyway.”
“But now she’s eighteen it won’t matter. She can block it anyway.” Elizabeth countered.
“That’s a last resort and your step-father might use such a tactic as some sort of weapon. Frankly, your older sister is paranoid about Terry ever locating her.”
Elizabeth frowned as she was forced to consider what desperation had driven Georgie to run away. She then considered another important family angle.
“What about Jonathon, our younger brother?”
“For the time being we’ll be able to hold off on telling him, if you’re agreeable.”
Again, Elizabeth pursed her lips distastefully.
“We don’t like keeping secrets from each other. I’ll have to tread carefully.”
“Well, once Georgie’s gone to college, she’ll be footloose and fancy free.”
“Which college is she going to?”
“I don’t know.” Trevor lied for he already knew that his oldest child Georgie had passed a scholarship for a prestigious college in London.
They chatted at length on the train and arrived to find both Sam and Georgie waiting on the platform. After an emotional hug Georgie explained to her father and sister.
“Sam had some ‘girl shopping’ to do so we killed two birds. Hop in,”
Elizabeth was pleasantly surprised to see that Georgie was driving while she was invited to ride ‘shot-gun’.
“So you’ve passed your driving test?” She confirmed with her older sister.
“Oh yes, we thought about getting a car for my own use but it’ll be no good in London without parking. Anyway, I’ve got full use of this one plus the pub van.”
“We hardly see the car on Sundays!” Sam laughed, “she’s usually out with her old school friends, leastways, until she starts college.”
When they arrived at The Harbour Light Dot met them and after introductions, Georgie suggested a brief tour of the Basin while they chatted. After seeing her sister’s circumstances, Elizabeth had Trevor phone her mother Lucinda.
“Mum, I want to stay overnight with daddy, is that okay?”
“I can’t stop you dear, he’s got full visitation rights now, it’s just that he’s never exercised them. Why now?”
“Because I want to see him, he never asked to come and see me or Johnathon because of the situation with Terry. I asked to see daddy so I’m with him now.”
“When will you be back?”
Elizabeth turned to her father who answered.
“It’s the school hols now, she can stay as long as she likes and whatever is convenient to you.”
“We’re off to Spain for the last two weeks in August. It’s all booked.” Lucinda explained.
“Very well, she can stay with me til then if you’re agreeable.”
Both Georgie and Elizabeth’s eyes lit up as their mother agreed but asked.
“Has Beth got any clothes with her?”
“No, but I’ll get some sorted this evening then she can go properly shopping on Monday.”
Both sisters grinned at the news as Georgie asked Dot.
“Can I take the car into town and get Beth some clothes for tonight and is she sleeping here or with Daddy across the basin?”
Dot lifted an eyebrow as her smile creased her cheeks.
“Be back before nine girl. Sam’s putting on a new routine tonight, she may need help with her costumes.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Dot and Sam 18
Dorothy Philpot. Landlady of The Harbour Light pub
Sam Philpot. Drag-queen.
Billy Parkins Doorkeeper.
Jessica Merlot The town’ and county archaeologist.
Josephine MacDonald The town and county archivist.
Richard Drummond Town planning inspector
Robert Vincent. Junior planning inspector.
Georgina. (Georgie) Homeless Transgender girl previously known as George.
Bobby Gay boy on the school bus.
Marty Girl on the school bus. (She becomes Georgie’s best friend and lover)
Jack. Marty’s twin brother (Keen runner).
Trevor Aitkins, Georgie’s Biological father.
Lucinda Aitkins Georgie’s biological mother
Terence Georgie’s step-dad
Allison. Old school friend of Trevor
Fred Allisons husband
Elizabeth Aitkins Georgie’s younger sister. Later proves to be sympathetic to her ‘sister’
Jonathon Aitkins Georgie’s younger brother.
“You’ve really landed lucky haven’t you?” Elizabeth enthused as she fiddled with the media controls of her older sister’s car.
“Yes. Georgie replied emphatically. Dot and Sam are good people; and despite what you may think, dad’s a good person as well!”
“Weren’t you scared when Dot offered you a bed? I mean, dad tells me the pub is totally a gay pub!”
“No gays have ever attacked me and I’m known to have my own bedroom. Nobody sneaks upstairs at night, trying my bedroom door . Anyway; dad drinks there as well, does that make him gay?”
“No. We’re the proof of that.” Elizabeth giggled.
“Ha!” Georgie let out a snort of derision. “Plenty of gays have kids, bisexuals, lesbians, even gay men adopt. Gay is not proof of bad parenting.”
“How long were you living rough?” Elizabeth asked as they pulled into the car park.
“Long enough,” Georgie frowned, “but I’m set up properly now. Good home, good people, plenty of fun and yet, responsibilities enough for any eighteen-year-old to keep me grounded.”
“Are you going to Uni or will you inherit that pub?” Elizabeth asked as they left the multistorey car-park.
“I’ve got a place in the student halls of residence London, but don’t think that leaves an open invitation. I’ll be working hard because stem subjects are hard, especially at that college.”
“So if I want to visit you, it will have to be here, in The Harbour Light.”
“Pretty much, or at Dad’s office opposite the pub. He’s got one of those picturesque warehouse cottages next door to that dock-gate office – the harbourmaster’s office.”
Their conversation lagged as they picked their way across the high street then they entered the store. Soon they were checking clothes.
“What d’ you think of this?” Elizabeth asked as she held the dress against her body.”
“It’ll bring the boys slavering after you,” Georgie smirked, “it barely covers your arse.”
“Or yours, if you buy one. Have you got a boyfriend?”
“Nah, not me love. I’m a one woman, woman.”
“What! You don’t like boys?”
“Oh they’re okay in their place but I’ve got a steady girlfriend.”
“Well, I’ll be buggered. You fancy girls!”
“Boo!” Georgie chuckled as Elizabeth’s mouth resembled a gasping fish.
“How does that work?” She finally managed to find her voice.
“Well, I suppose you’d have to call me a lesbian after my surgery.”
“That’s weird. I don’t get that at all.”
“You don’t have to. It’s my gig, not yours.” Georgie exclaimed as she tapped her phone. “My girlfriend Marty will be here shortly; she wants to meet you if you’re agreeable.”
“Oooh yes! I’m curious; what’s she like?”
“She’s pretty, she’s kind, and she’s supportive; you know like friends should be.”
“What do the boys at school think?”
“I think they’ve only realised recently. One of the boys reckoned it was a waste but we told him he was a waste cos he was just a dumb bully. The rest of the boys just get on with life.”
At that, Georgie’s phone gave a bleep and she recognised Marty’s number so she answered immediately.
“Yes. Seriously, she’s with me now. By the side entrance down Cox lane. We’re looking at dresses.”
It took but a couple of minutes for Marty to find them and they exchanged excited greetings. Then they headed for a favourite café. Once settled with their coffees, Marty stared at the pair and nodded her head approvingly as she addressed Elizabeth.
“You look very like your sister.”
“Yeah, that would figure.” Elizabeth grinned.
Marty’s face reddened at the fatuousness of her own remark but she did not lose her smile. It was obvious that Elizabeth had the same nature as her older sister Georgie, and Marty liked what she saw. They chatted over their coffees then Georgie invited Marty back to The Harbour light.
“It’s a new routine tonight, Sam’s been busting a gut to get it right.”
“I’ll phone my mum and sort it,” Marty enthused as she dialled.
After a brief conversation she grinned.
“I’ve got to be back home by nine in the morning. There’s a family get-together for a big lunch and my relatives expect to see me now we’ve finished our exams.”
“I’ll get you there.” Georgie promised. “So now we can lie in until eight and I’ll drive you back.”
“Don’t your parents mind you sleeping together?” Elizabeth asked Marty slightly askance.
“Your parent doesn’t.” Marty retorted; “well, leastways, your dad doesn’t.”
“You lucky buggers!” Elizabeth lamented. “My step-dad would blow his top if I slept with a boy.”
“Yeah, Terry the bully,” Am I just so glad I’m free of him now!” Georgie observed as she pinged the car door-locks.
They piled in and soon arrived at The Harbour light where Elizabeth marvelled at the decorative lights.
“Bloody hell, they’ve gone overboard for the grand opening.”
“Grab yourselves a table, I’ve got to change for the festivities. See you soon.” Georgie declared as she left Marty and Elizabeth to make their own entertainment.”
While Georgie was changing, Dot appeared with soft drinks for Marty and Elizabeth, then not ten minutes later, Dot reappeared.
“One of the girls has reported sick. Marty would you like a couple of hours tabling, - usual rates?”
Marty jumped at the chance but realised she was leaving Georgie’s sister alone. She turned to check.
“What about Elizabeth?”
“If she wants some work as a pot girl, I’m sure we can find her an outfit. You know where the outfits are stored.”
“Are you up for it?” Marty asked. It means you get to see the whole show – and the changing rooms, if you want that is?”
“You’re too young to serve booze, so it would be strictly collecting glasses and stuff.” Dot cautioned her.
“If there’s money in it, I can do that.” Elizabeth enthused.
“Okay girls, take her upstairs Marty and Georgie can kit you out.”
Upstairs, Marty got changed while Georgie met her younger sister and checked the linen cupboard for a suitable outfit.
As she changed Elizabeth smirked salaciously.
“I would have thought it would have been a French maids mini-outfit you know suspenders and heels and stuff.”
“This is for your protection girl. The performers will be mixing with the audience and they know how to protect themselves. Believe me, you don’t, and some of the old perverts in the audience might try it on with you. The drag queens will see you safe. They’re old hands at batting off the perverts.”
“But this apron goes almost to my ankles. Elizabeth protested.”
“Listen to your sister,” Marty advised, “and stay away from bachelor tables; dark corners and stuff. You’re as pretty as your sister and sometimes these oafs don’t know when to call it a day.”
Elizabeth turned to Georgie.
“Are you sure I’ll be safe?”
“I’ll introduce you to Billy. He watches the main doors and the forecourt. That’s where you’ll be working mostly. You’ll be in plain view. Fridays and Saturdays get quite lively. Now, downstairs and I’ll introduce you to the girls. Sam is the boss of the girls so she’ll chaperone you through the changing rooms where they’re getting ready.”
Elizabeth descended with Georgie and Marty then Georgie made the introductions while Sam briefly explained the basic rules of the pub before giving Elizabeth a quick tour of the changing rooms. Beth was a little disappointed by the subdued reception from the drag queens as they sat at their various dressing stations paying great attention to their make-up. She had expected lots of banter and repartee.
“You see,” Sam nodded with a gentle smile. “It’s not all shrieks and hysterics. Those outfits cost a lot of money and the makeup takes lots of practice. These girls consider themselves as professionals. That girl by the big table comes down from London once a fortnight while lots of the other girls are from Bristol, Exeter. Birmingham and Plymouth. This pub has become one of the busiest gay venues south and west of Bristol.”
“I’ve seen that girl on telly.” Elizabeth gasped.
“Well there you are, you’ll be hob-knobbing with the rich and famous. Now get to work on those tables, Billy’s just unlocked the doors..”
For the first hour the job was fairly easy but after that, Elizabeth had little time to chat to Georgie or Marty. The only relief she got was when she loaded the two glass washers behind the bar. Then she had a few minutes relief to chat to Georgie as they restocked the racks behind the bar. By eleven o-clock Elizabeth’s feet were sore and she was grateful for the mid evening break when she found herself in the secluded staff enclave savouring the banter as the drag-queens worked the house. Sam’s first act had gone down well and everybody was in a buoyant mood.
“Well love, how are you finding your new job.” Sam asked Beth.
“My dogs are barking.” Elizabeth sighed as she slumped with relief into a chair.
Sam grinned. “Now try doing it in heels darling.”
“No way, those things must be killing you.”
“Well, I’m not on stage again till two but I’ll do a bit of work amongst the tables.
With that, Dot appeared with a tray of tea and sandwiches and they refreshed themselves. Elizabeth grinned with amusement as she observed.
“All that booze behind the bar and here we are drinking tea or coffee.”
“You’ll learn darling.” Sam cautioned as she studied the crowd. “You don’t want to be doing this in old age babe’s. It’s a young girl’s game. Look to your sister’s example, she’s off to Uni this Autumn.”
Elizabeth turned to study her sister as she served a customer at the bar and she resolved to get to know Georgie better. Beth was glad she had found her sibling and secretly excited to know she had a new sister. For the remainder of the evening she happily worked the tables knowing she was safe from any unwelcome approaches. The drag queens took the flack and watched her back.
By dawn, The Harbour Light had begun to fall silent and the ‘merry-go-round’ of taxis had eased off. Having decided her dad’s cottage offered a more peaceful night Elizabeth plodded wearily across the dock gate and flopped down gratefully onto the bed in her father’s spare room. On hearing her arrival Trevor called from his room.
“D’ you have a good night darling?”
“The best daddy. Absolutely the best but the pub is still noisy.”
“Lunch is booked for one at the pub. Georgie will be disappointed if you’re not there.”
“Does she ever stop daddy?”
“Not on weekends darling. Now get some sleep.”
Elizabeth needed no prompting as she tugged her clothes off and savoured the delightful luxury of the king-sized bed.
“Oh what it must be like to be rich and famous,” she thought as she drifted off.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Where’s your friend Marty?” Elizabeth asked her sister Georgie, as she sat down to eat lunch.
“She’s got a big family do. Sam drove her over to her house earlier this morning.”
“She’ll say goodbye at the station when dad takes you home, and please remember. You never saw me. Let dad handle our mother.”
“What about Johnathon?” Beth asked.
“Just say you stayed at Dad’s, which is true.”
With that, the food arrived and Elizabeth was surprised to find she had an appetite. As she finished her pudding, Elizabeth sighed wistfully.
“Wish I could stay for the rest of the festivities this afternoon.”
“Speak to your mum, I’m agreeable,” Trevor suggested, “and one extra mouth is no problem for Dot.”
Elizabeth needed no extra prompting and immediately phoned her mother. The hopeful smile faded as her step-father Terry answered..
“Where’s mum?” She asked somewhat sullenly.
“She’s busy, what d’ you want?”
“I want to speak to her.”
“She’s preparing for Spain, you have remembered we’re going to Spain on Monday, haven’t you?”
Elizabeth’s soft ‘Damn!’ did not go unheard and Terry snapped back.
“Are you telling me you’ve forgotten?”
“No, no I just -.”
“Just what!”
“Oh nothing. I’ll be home tonight.”
Disappointment clouded Elizabeth’s features as she closed her phone and explained to her dad.
“No luck. Spain on Monday and Terry’s paid for the trip.”
“All is not lost. I’ll speak to your mother and find out where they’re flying from.”
“It’s Birmingham, Monday, fourteen hundred to Alicante.”
“That’s not impossible. We can be in Birmingham easily by noon. I can reschedule my diary.”
“Would you Daddy! That would be fabulous.”
“That’s what dads are for.” Trevor smiled as he dialled his ex-wife on his phone.
“Yes, what d’you want?”
Trevor explained his idea and after some objections about knowing what to pack, Elizabeth’s mother Lucinda agreed.
“We’ll meet you at the car-drop at oh nine hundred, don’t forget her passport.”
They agreed as Elizabeth fist-pumped her dad with joy.
“I’ll give you some money to buy a couple of outfits while you’re in Spain. Okay love? Can’t have my pride and joy looking like a scruff.”
“Dad, you’re the best!” She squealed as she conveyed the news to Georgie.
“We’ll have to take an early train to Birmingham then taxi to the airport. There won’t be time to go to Dad’s house and collect his car.”
“So, early to bed on Sunday night.” Georgie advised. “Dad hate’s tardiness so don’t make him late.
With arrangements finalised, They indulged the weekend festivities and turned up at Birmingham airport taxi rank on time.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Dot and Sam 19
Dorothy Philpot. Landlady of The Harbour Light pub
Sam Philpot. Drag-queen.
Billy Parkins Doorkeeper.
Jessica Merlot The town’ and county archaeologist.
Josephine MacDonald The town and county archivist.
Richard Drummond Town planning inspector
Robert Vincent. Junior planning inspector.
Georgina. (Georgie) Homeless Transgender girl previously known as George.
Bobby Gay boy on the school bus.
Marty Girl on the school bus. (She becomes Georgie’s best friend and lover)
Jack. Marty’s twin brother (Keen runner).
Trevor Aitkins, Georgie’s Biological father.
Lucinda Aitkins Georgie’s biological mother
Terence Georgie’s step-dad
Allison. Old school friend of Trevor
Fred Allisons husband
Elizabeth Aitkins (Beth) Georgie’s younger sister. Later proves to be sympathetic to her ‘sister’
Jonathon Aitkins (Johnny) Georgie’s younger brother.
At the airport, Elizabeth met her mother waiting with their luggage.
“Where’s Terry and Johnathon?” Elizabeth asked.
“Where’s your dad Lucy countered.
“He put me in the Taxi at New Street then he went to work.”
“He should at least have seen you to the airport, what if we’d missed each other.”
“I’m sixteen mum and I’ve got a credit card and a mobile.”
“Did he give you the card.”
“Yes.”
“Don’t let Terry know you’ve got one.”
“Terry’s not my father or my guardian, you are. Besides, it’s on dad’s dollar so it’s nothing to do with Terry.”
“Nevertheless, don’t let him know.”
Elizabeth shrugged and nodded towards the check-in desk.
“There’s Terry, with Johnathon and his own kids.”
“They joined the queue as Terry asked Lucy.”
“Where’s her father?”
“We separated at New Street Station,” Elizabeth interrupted. “I’m quite capable of getting to the airport on my own. He paid for my taxi and I’m here in plenty of time.”
“There’s no need to get shirty with me girl.”
“Well you should have asked me where my dad was, not mum. Don’t treat me as if I’m a piece of furniture.”
“Well, if there’s excess baggage on your luggage, it’s your lookout. We weighed the bags very precisely.”
“I’ll pay, dad gave me some pocket money for the holiday.”
“Will you stop squabbling, let’s try and keep this holiday a happy one.” Lucy scolded both of them.
Elizabeth retreated back into the queue to stand with her brother while Terry checked everybody in and soon they were waiting in the departure lounge where Terry organised some drinks.
Reluctantly, Elizabeth had to admit to herself that Terry treated the children fairly and after finishing their drinks she teamed up with her step-sisters to explore the duty-free area. She spotted several things that she fancied but she had to hide her credit card from her siblings. It was almost a certainty that if her siblings; especially the oafish step brother Peter, found out, they would be begging or even demanding for her to pick up the tabs for incidentals like coffee.
Eventually both she and her stepsisters bought books to read on the plane. Then it was not long to wait as their flight was called and they departed on time.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Back at The Harbour Light Pub, Georgie and Marty were enjoying their summer holiday jobs and awaiting their A’ Level results. They fell into a pleasant routine and savoured their Sundays off along with frequent midweek days off as work and business allowed. They were not bound by formal contracts being as they were deemed ‘family’ and their general usefulness around the basin as sources of information and casual labour was much appreciated by incomers starting up their various shops and businesses as the basin’s reputation grew. They were also much appreciated by Dot and Sam when they stood in as ‘dock gate staff’ when Dot and Sam were heavily engaged with the success of the pub.
Eventually their exam results arrived and to Georgie’s delight she confirmed her place at Imperial College in London. Marty had to wait a further week before she finally confirmed her place, for she had just squeaked in.
Towards the end of the holidays, Georgie received an email from her sister Elizabeth that warned her that their younger brother Johnathon might have some inkling about his siblings relationship.
The encrypted message appeared on Georgie’s phone.
“Little Bro has challenged me about knowing your location. He saw something on Facebook and reckons it might connect me to you via Dad.”
“How did he find out?”
“He got into my phone and read some messages then put two and two together to get four. Not the encrypted stuff mind. He saw something about the opening celebrations for the Basin then went online to try and find out where and how Dad was involved. He saw me in a video and thinks the girl I was with might be you. He asked me and I denied it but he’s searching the web now with facial recognition technology. He’s a smart cookie, just like you. I’m just warning you. Take care. He’s worked out that you’re probably trans.”
“Thanks for the head’s up. Are you coming down before the school hols end?”
“Yes. Do you want me to try and sound him out about trans stuff? He’s old enough now to understand stuff.”
“Okay, try and find out how he feels about it; but be careful.”
“I think he might be sympathetic. He was arguing with our step-brother Peter one evening as we watched telly. I’m not entirely sure. but he seemed more sympathetic than Peter who follows his dad Terry. They’re total homophobes.”
Georgie sighed despondently. She had been secretly hoping to somehow reach Jonathon without Terry finding out. Elizabeth had been her main hope but now they would have to tread doubly carefully. She texted one last encrypted message.
“Be doubly careful to keep your phone safe and encrypted at all time.”
“You bet. See you in September, before you go up to IC and congratulations by the way.”
“See you September. Hugs and love, Big Sis.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The remainder of August flew by and the summer season kept both Georgie and Marty very busy. One midweek evening they finished working in the restaurant and Marty slumped down gratefully in one of the wing-back chairs in Dot and Sam’s living room.
As she kicked off her flatties, Dot arrived with a thick envelope for her.
“Whass ’is?” Marty asked.
“Your tips for August.”
Marty eagerly opened the envelope and whistled with delight.
“Is this it? Really?”
“Yep, you’ve put in a fair bit of work but most of all, you’ve been reliable, you know time-keeping and stuff.”
“Crickey!” She spluttered as she quickly estimated the notes. “More days, more dollars!
“Well not so much now September’s here. Besides, you’ll be going up with Georgie in the last week of September.”
“Can I work through September? I’ll need all the money I can earn. London’s expensive.”
“If you want to. The restaurant isn’t open every day though, now the summer season’s over.”
“Can I continue staying with Georgie. It saves my mum a whole bunch money foodwise and stuff.”
“If she’s agreeable.”
“Money’s tight for her so she’ll be very keen.”
“Okay, get your mum to extend the letter repeating that she knows about the drag shows and stuff.”
“I don’t need that anymore, now I’m fully eighteen.”
Dot spoke softly to emphasise the seriousness of the issues.
“The letter protects Sam and me darling, not just you two.”
“Oh. I see. Can I work here over Christmas?”
“Yes.” Dot assured her. “Provided your mum agrees.”
Marty settled into the chair as Georgie entered and turned to Marty.
“By your smiles I’m assuming you’ve made a deal.”
Both Dot and Marty nodded as Georgie’s smile widened.
“I’ve got another deal she continued grinning.”
“What’s that?”
“Come outside.”
Reluctantly, Marty slipped into her comfortable flatties and followed her partner out onto the pub back yard.
“Voila!” Georgie grinned. “Surprise, surprise.”
“Is that yours?” Marty gasped.
Georgie nodded as she explained.
“Dad just bought it for me, for winning the scholarship. D’ you want to come for a spin?”
“Does the pope shit in the woods?” Marty cackled with delight.
“Drive carefully!” Dot cautioned them.
“I have to.” Georgie frowned. Dad’s had a tracer fitted that checks speed and distance. Then it adjusts my insurance upwards if I drive excessive distances or speeds.”
“Yes.” Dot added. “Your dad and I discussed that, and you won’t be able to take it to college in London cos parking’s a bitch.”
“Bummer,” the pair griped as Georgie pulled out of the pub yard.
As they drove into the Devonshire hills Georgie’s phone chirped so Marty opened it to find a text.
“Go on, read it please Babes.” Georgie asked her.
“Oh shit, it’s from Elizabeth, your mum and Terry have had some sort of row over stuff on Johnathon’s phone. Terry’s found out about you and Elizabeth.
“Well, he can’t touch me but it’s Elizabeth I worry about.”
“You mother wants to see you.”
Georgie pulled over into a layby and they sat in the car discussing options and tactics.
“I’m not ready to see her. Terry might want to come down with her and I refuse ever see him.”
“You could call your mum on my phone.”
“That’ll drag you into it. I’ll speak to dad about it first.”
Marty shrugged. She wanted to normalise the situation between Georgie and her mum, if only to allow Georgie to come out to her mother about Georgie and Marty’s relationship.
“I could call your mother then ask Trevor to speak over my phone. When’s your dad next down the Basin?”
“Tonight probably, though he hasn’t said,” Georgie replied as she phoned her dad and added to Marty.
“I’ll phone him now; it’s gone five so he shouldn’t be working.”
“More like driving I should think. Give it an hour.”
They drove home by a longer, picturesque route then found Trevor already sitting in the Harbour light’s lounge examining some documents. He looked up and smiled ruefully.
“Your mother knows you’re here. They went through Johnathon’s phone.”
“What did she say and what has she done?”
“She wants to see you.”
“Her, maybe; Terry, definitely not.”
“He’s not happy about that.”
“I don’t give a toss. I’m over eighteen. The question is what about Beth and Johnny?”
“He’s trying to persuade your mother to refuse permission to see you.”
“He’ll not succeed. Beth and I are like that,” -she crossed her fingers-, “but it’s Johnny I worry for, Terry will try and turn him into a homophobe.”
Trevor pursed his lips thoughtfully then suggested.
“Tell your mother you’ll only meet her if she comes with Beth and Johnny.”
“You tell her. I’m still not speaking to her.”
“Try and see her point of view. She was trying to keep the peace between you and your step-father.”
“Dad, Terry was knocking me about and physically injuring me. He’s a big man. She should have stopped him dead in his tracks. Instead she just watched and never said a word.”
“Okay then, I’ll tell your mother you’re not ready to see her yet but that I’d like to see my other children. I’ve still got access rights by law.”
“Well, I’d love to see Beth again, and Johnny for that matter. Terry’s got absolutely no guardianship rights over Johnny or Beth. Can’t you go and collect them from Birmingham? They can stay in your cottage next to the river dock-gate.”
“I’ll see what I can do. I’ve got a busy couple of weeks and you’re going up to Uni in three weeks.”
“Well try and persuade mum to let them come down by train.”
Trevor gave a wry smile but agreed to try while Georgie phoned Beth. To her surprise, her number was blocked from Beth’s phone. She cursed angrily as she concluded that Terry had interfered. Next she asked her father if she could use his phone. To their mutual relief, Elizabeth answered by text.
“Not now Dad, it’s a bad time.”
Trevor replied. “Call me ASAP!”
Both Trevor and Georgie had to wait on tenterhooks until the following afternoon when Trevor received a call from an unknown number. It was Elizabeth who explained.
“Our step-father is trying to block all access to Georgie to force her to come home. I’ve bought another phone and I keep it in school. Thanks for the credit card and ask Georgie to call me on this number.”
On receiving the message, Trevor contacted his ex-wife Lucy to repeat the message that despite what Terry was trying to do, Georgie refused to meet with her mother if Terry was present. From that day forward, Georgie blocked contact with her mother and only contacted her sister Beth on her secret encrypted phone during school hours. By this means, Beth was able to bring their younger brother Johnathon secretly to Gloucester where Georgie met him. Naturally, Johnathon wanted to know how Beth kept in touch with Georgie. Beth explained.
“I speak to Dad on an encrypted phone, why would you want to know?”
“Dad’s asked me to keep tabs on you and your phone.”
Georgie became angry at the thought of the younger brother spying on the older sisters.
“That’s fine Johnny, but if you persist, you won’t be seeing me again either. Either you stop spying or I break away from you.”
“But he’s pressuring me. He’ll ban my phone if I don’t co-operate.”
“That’s against the law brother. Only Mum can do that, he’s not your legal guardian or parent.”
“Try telling that to a guy who’s six feet four and built like a tank.”
“Tell the police.” Georgie suggested.
“It’s no matter,” Elizabeth intervened. “Trevor’s got two phones and only I know his private number. It’s not even in my contacts list.”
Jonathon relaxed as he digested the news and they went for coffee in the waterways museum. This museum idea had proved successful and the new waterways museum took up the whole inner corner of the warehouses on the south side of the basin. Georgie and Beth were both proud of their parts in the documented story of the recovery of both ancient boats.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Dot and Sam 20
Dorothy Philpot. Landlady of The Harbour Light pub
Sam Philpot. Drag-queen.
Billy Parkins Doorkeeper.
Jessica Merlot The town’ and county archaeologist.
Josephine MacDonald The town and county archivist.
Richard Drummond Town planning inspector
Robert Vincent. Junior planning inspector.
Georgina. (Georgie) Homeless Transgender girl previously known as George.
Bobby Gay boy on the school bus.
Marty Girl on the school bus. (She becomes Georgie’s best friend and lover)
Jack. Marty’s twin brother (Keen runner).
Trevor Aitkins, Georgie’s Biological father.
Lucinda Aitkins Georgie’s biological mother
Terence Georgie’s step-dad
Allison. Old school friend of Trevor & Retired Solicitor
Fred Allisons husband
Elizabeth Aitkins (Beth) Georgie’s younger sister. Later proves to be sympathetic to her ‘sister’
Jonathon Aitkins (Johnny) Georgie’s younger brother.
Dot and Sam 20
As they ate their cakes and drank their mugs of coffee in the waterways museum, Jonathon hazarded another option.
“D’you think I should get another phone?”
“No!” Beth declared emphatically.
“Why not.”
“Firstly, Terry pays your pocket money, secondly, our step-brother Peter keeps trying to go through both our phones and thirdly, both rents are trying to snoop on whether I’m still in touch with Georgie. There’s just too much to go wrong.”
“Well can I have dad’s private number.”
“No for the same reasons I’ve just given. When he next goes through your phone he’s bound to find it. If you have anything to tell Dad or Georgie, come to me in school. I keep my other phone in school so that Terry can’t snoop.”
Jonathon shrugged resentfully for he felt he was being treated like a second-class citizen. To cheer him up, Georgie bought him another cake. Then, to enable her and Johhny to have a nice long chat, they made their way to the car park and Georgie drove both his siblings the one hundred and fifty miles to Gloucester for Johnny and Beth to get as near to their old home as Georgie felt was safe without meeting any others from the family. Reluctantly they parted a few streets from her old home then Georgie returned to her new home at The Harbour Light. It was quite dark when she got home but a couple of phone calls en-route reassured Dot. Then she confirmed to Elizabeth by text to her school phone that she had arrived safely. She knew Beth would delete it immediately she read it on the Monday morning.
For the remaining weeks of September. Elizabeth and Johnathon settled into the routine of the new school term while Georgie and Marty prepared to go up to university. During their last weekend of working at the restaurant Allison and Fred took possession of their ‘cottage’ in the newbuilds behind the whare-houses facing the basin. On seeing the activity from the pub, Georgie decided to pop across the basin and make the couple welcome. She helped move some furniture and set them down where Allison chose then after bidding the removal men thanks, they settled down to a celebratory ‘cuppa’ and a chat.
“So, obviously, you’re all ready for Tuesday.” Allison smiled.
“Actually, we’re going up on Monday, Dad’s helping Marty and me because his car is bigger and he returns to Birmingham instead of back here.”
“Looking forward to college?” Fred asked.
“You bet. Marty and I are booked into the same accommodation hall.”
“You just concentrate on your studies young lady.” Allison smirked knowingly.
“And you make sure Mum and Terry don’t find out about my living here or in London.” Georgie cautioned.
“So you’ve still not resolved any issues then?” Allison sighed sympathetically.
“Not with the step-father. Less seen, soonest mended.”
“We’ll have to keep in close touch then, cos your mum’s got an open invitation to come and see me.”
“I’ll make a point of phoning you every time I’m coming down from uni. Come on, let’s go to the pub, this’ll be my last night at home until Christmas.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The following morning, the girls and their mountains of luggage rode with Georgie’s dad Trevor up to London. With lumps in their throats, Dot and Sam waved them off.
“I’ve only known her for what, seven months; and I already feel like an empty nester.” Dot sniffed.
“Oh com oo-on!” Sam chided her. “She’ll be here, home for Christmas, before you know it.”
The journey to London reflected the nature of the academic year. It seemed to Georgie and Marty that nearly every other car on the M4 was taking students ‘up to col’ and they had all decided to go a day early to avoid the rush.
“Talk about a self-fulfilling prophecy,” Marty chuckled as they sat stuck in the Traffic Jam on the Hammersmith flyover.
“Will this make you late dad?” Georgie asked.
“No. It’s all in hand. I’m not going into the office until tomorrow.”
“Oh. So what are you doing tonight?”
“I’ll not be going out with you two. Freshers week is all about breaking from parents. You’re living in hall now, get used to it.”
Eventually, they reached the halls and checked in with their registration forms to get their keys. An hour later they watched Georgie’s father Trevor, driving to some place on the south side of the river while they turned to unpacking.
“Your dad obviously knows his way around. I never thought that you could choose adjoining rooms.”
“All he had to do was make it easy for the bursar’s clerk to appoint us by waiting until she had a convenient slot available. It’s not always the early bird who catches the worm.”
Marty grinned as she looked down from her window onto one of the rare scraps of lawn to survive the recent expansion binge of new-build accommodation. Most of what had been pleasant lawns a decade ago had become new halls of residence and learning centres. Georgie stood beside Marty and sighed.
“You can see why students are not allowed cars in Hall.”
Marty nodded as she scanned the introduction package.
“It says here that once you’ve unpacked and got your bearings, a good move is to visit the Student’s Union. That’s where all the clubs and societies have set up shop. There’s also a large information centre and shop supplying essential stuff.”
Georgie grinned as she wrapped an arm around Marty’s waist and gave a brief hug.
“I’ve got my essential stuff right here.”
Marty giggled and leaned towards the bed causing Georgie to flop beside her and for several minutes silence ensued as the pair learned that single bed in university halls really mean that – single beds! After almost sliding off the bed, the pair sat up and looked at each other.
“This won’t do.”
“We could turn one room into a study and put both beds in the other room. We’re lucky we’ve got a corner room that will take two beds.”
“Yeah,” Marty observed. “It must have been for two students sharing back in the day.”
“Lucky us,” Georgie mused. “If we’re going to move beds, best we do it before the hall fills up. The less people who see, the less hassle.”
It took less than five minutes to move one bed to the larger corner room then put the two unitised study-desks back-to-back so the pair faced each other while studying in the smaller room. More importantly, nobody saw them do it.
“D’ you think the authorities will object?” Marty wondered.
“Dunno,” Georgie replied, “We’re over eighteen.”
Once they’d re-arranged their furnishings, the pair went in search of the Student’s union building and social research.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“So you’re mostly a political activist society then?” Georgie observed as the pair spoke to a representative of the LGBT community.
“How would you see us?” The club member asked.
“I was thinking more along social lines, you know; dancing, club nights and such.”
“There’s plenty of that in the Student’s union most weekends, well – every weekend really.”
“Do you get much bother?”
“Not in the union. Outside it’s different, even on the campus and particularly the streets. There’s lots of CCTV on the campus though. Sometimes there’s friction in outside clubs but there’re plenty of gay clubs where you’re safe. Here is a map where we deem it safer to go. Some areas are not safe whether your gay or straight. Our society is big on information and safety. If you join we disseminate lots of info regularly about any new dangers.”
Georgie and Marty departed with the literature and went to the refectory to eat.
“Shall we join?” Marty asked.
“It can’t do any harm,” Georgie replied. “If we don’t want to, we don’t have to get involved in the political stuff.”
“Provided it doesn’t try to get involved with us.” Marty concluded.
“How would that come about?” Georgie mused.
“We’re living openly as lesbians and lots of Terfs happen to be lesbians. Once our relationship becomes public there’s bound to be lesbians in the college who invite us to join their Terf organisation. Hall is a veritable hotbed of gossip and misinformation. I give it two weeks before we’re invited to join the Terfs.”
“We can just refuse.” Georgie shrugged. “I’ve had my op and I’m registered at the college as a female. Who’s to find out? We just keep ourselves to ourselves.”
After further discussion, the pair cautiously decided to join the LGBT society and bought tickets for the LGBT freshers ball. Then, after that first tentative dip into the LGBT pond, they concentrated on their studying. They quickly recognised that their pre-college relationship removed them from ‘the hunt’ that most students experienced in the first months of college. Friends they found and made aplenty, but their relationship removed the teenaged urgency to find a sexual partner. This aspect suited Marty more than Georgie because she found her academic work harder going then Georgie and she needed more time to complete her work. Consequently Georgie found herself occasionally alone in the Union and being drawn into meetings of the LGBT club. It was at one of these meetings that she was approached by a small group of Terfs who presumed she was a Cis-gendered lesbian.
“You’re alone tonight then?” Their group leader ventured. “Where’s your partner, the other pretty girl?”
Georgie looked up as she realised the Terf had not ‘clocked’ her. To avoid conversation and any potential for a disturbance, she replied monosyllabically, “studying”
“You seem to have time to spare.”
Georgie shrugged as she realised the Terf group were probably ‘on the prod’, so she kept her answers brief and uncontentious.
“She’s on a different course, it requires more writing up.”
“Have you thought about devoting your spare time to doing something more productive?”
“Like what?” Georgie queried cautiously.
“Well protecting women in women’s spaces.”
“No, I’ve never thought to do that. It sounds like something violent. Besides, I don’t think this is a ‘woman’s space’, here in the union.”
The Terf squinted suspiciously.
“We were talking about women’s toilets and such.”
“Where we? I thought I was talking about the student’s union building.”
“So do you not believe women need protecting?”
“I did not say that; don’t try to put words into my mouth.”
“So what do you believe in?”
“I haven’t given belief much thought, I’m studying physics. That’s facts, figures and reality as I understand it. Not much time for beliefs or religions but plenty of room for thinking, - deeply.” She added just to needle the gang.
Having said this, Georgie finished her coffee in one gulp then stood up abruptly and returned her mug to the dish stacker rack before departing without another word. It was as clear a message as she could give that she was not interested in contention. The Terfs watched her leave and Georgie wondered whether they might have clocked her slightly masculine gait. If they had, no mention was made as she left.
Glad to be clear of any potential argument, Georgie nevertheless took a circuitous route home to hall. She knew they could find her soon enough if they tried, but for now she deemed herself safe. In their bedroom she flopped down on the bed and sighed. Marty immediately picked up on her mood.
“Trouble ‘t mill love?”
“Aye; bloody Terfs!” Georgie cursed. “They asked me to climb aboard their chariot of fire.”
Marty immediately understood the allusion and grinned.
“So what did you say?”
“Told them I wasn’t interested in violence.”
“So obviously, they didn’t clock you.”
“Nah. I don’t think so.”
“Perhaps you could join them and go undercover.”
“No thanks, being trans is risky enough. Trouble is, some of their argument is persuasive to others and if enough poison takes root, it makes it harder for us. You could join if you want, - undercover that is -“.
“Not me love, besides I’m known to the police.” Marty whispered.
“Oh bullshit love. A few juvenile shoplifting escapades hardly makes you Mr Big! Besides you stole milk and sugar for god’s sake.”
“Yeah, mum was finding things tough.”
Georgie knew the situation at home for Marty with five siblings and a sick dad who earned low income. Sympathetically, she reached out and pulled Marty between the sheets and that led to more mutual reassurance as they snuggled together.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Dot and Sam 21
Dorothy Philpot. Landlady of The Harbour Light pub
Sam Philpot. Drag-queen.
Billy Parkins Doorkeeper.
Jessica Merlot The town’ and county archaeologist.
Josephine MacDonald The town and county archivist.
Richard Drummond Town planning inspector
Robert Vincent. Junior planning inspector.
Georgina. (Georgie) Homeless Transgender girl previously known as George.
Bobby Gay boy on the school bus.
Marty Girl on the school bus. (She becomes Georgie’s best friend and lover)
Jack. Marty’s twin brother (Keen runner).
Trevor Aitkins, Georgie’s Biological father.
Lucinda Aitkins Georgie’s biological mother
Terence Georgie’s step-dad
Allison. Old school friend of Trevor
Fred Allisons husband
Elizabeth Aitkins (Beth) Georgie’s younger sister. Later proves to be sympathetic to her ‘sister’
Jonathon Aitkins (Johnny) Georgie’s younger brother.
For the rest of that first week in college, Marty and Georgie pretty much kept to themselves except that Georgie installed a closed-circuit camera system and cautiously replaced the ‘spyhole’ in the door with a tiny surveillance camera.
“What if the college finds out?” Marty asked.
“We’ll change it back. I haven’t damaged the door. Every student door has got a spyhole anyway.” Georgie explained. “It’s simply a matter of unscrewing the ferrule around the back of the viewing lens and removing the camera. It means we can not only check who’s outside the door but record them as well. It also covers the top of the stairs and the lift shaft. That’ll be useful if there’s any complaints or incidents and stuff.”
Marty shrugged and nodded. “Provided we don’t damage anything or get accused of invading people’s privacy.”
“There are already cameras in the foyer the refectory and on the landings so they can’t accuse us of doing anything they are not doing. Besides it’s little more than an ordinary door camera.” Georgie argued as she tested the system.
“Why three screens?” Marty asked.
“It’s the same system as we have at The Harbour Light but not so many cameras. Just one in the door, one for our room and this last one points out of the window for now, where those bushes lean over the corner of the path. That’s a perfect mugging spot.”
Oh, you’re an expert at mugging are you?” Mart grinned
“Just look at those thick bushes and dark shadow on the path.” Georgie snapped back a little irritably. “I’m watching my back all the time!”
“Well, at least we’ll be safer and you never know.” Marty conceded as she returned to her interrupted studies.
The friends did not emerge again to socialise until the Saturday. They had been into Oxford street on a Saturday shopping spree but London was expensive and they returned with little more than some fancy tights before changing for the regular union dance.
As they entered the Student’s Union, Georgie spotted a few of the Terfs gathered by the stage where they had laid claim to some floor-space. Consequently, the pair chose to dance on the opposite side of the dance-hall. They were contentedly embraced in each other’s arms during a slow, romantic song when their pleasure was disturbed by a trio of the Terfs who started dancing so close to them that it became difficult to ignore them.
Even when Marty gently eased Georgie further to the back, the trio stayed with them until Georgie murmured in Marty’s ear.
“Let’s wait this one out and go to the bar.”
“They haven’t actually bothered us,” Marty murmured back.
“They’re manoeuvring to,” Georgie replied, and so the pair broke their embrace to buy some drinks.
Next they found a table but almost immediately, the Terfs approached them.
“Have you thought about what we spoke of on Tuesday?” The gang-leader asked Georgie.
“No.” Georgie replied.”
“What about you?” she asked Marty.
“What about me?” Marty challenged.
“Are you prepared to join us to protect women’s spaces?”
“What? You mean like on Venus?”
“You know what we mean.” Her expression became a scowl.
“Yeah. I know exactly what you mean, but I don’t have a space-ship so the answer’s no.” Marty bristled.
“So you’re happy if men invade our safe spaces and then try to attack us?” The Terf persisted.
“I’ll cross that bridge if I ever come to it. So far I’ve never been attacked in the loo.”
“Others have.”
“Well, so far I’ve never met anybody who was attacked in a ‘woman’s space’! However, I’ve met plenty of people, -men and women-, who’ve been attacked in plenty of public spaces. And that’s twice as many men attacked and killed than women.”
“How d’ you mean?”
“I mean precisely what I said; twice as many men are attacked and killed than women every year,”
The Terf fell silent as she searched her head for all the standard, rehearsed answers but a suitable answer escaped her. Eventually she accused Marty of disingenuity.
“You’re being deliberately obtuse. The concern is women’s safety.”
“My concern is everybody’s safety.”
The Terf did not detect the deep irony of Marty’s words because she did not know that Marty’s partner Georgie was trans. She simply sniffed angrily and stalked back to her friends who had resumed dancing. Georgie returned with their drinks and sat watching the Terfs who were glaring at another group of LGBT trans-girls who did not pass too successfully; mainly because their outfits and makeup were slightly OTT. Marty quietly suggested that Georgie introduce herself to the trans-girls and suggest they take lessons in ‘passing.’
“Not here darling,” Georgie replied. “Another time, another place perhaps, but reading the room, I think things might ‘take off’ if I did a reveal here and now.”
“Aye, I suppose so,” Marty sighed. “These Terfs are making life shit for trans-girls.”
“Well, they look capable of defending themselves if the Terfs make trouble. They’re not exactly dockers in frocks, but they’re pretty close.” Georgie smiled as she and Marty took the floor again.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
By now, the night had matured and the inevitable late crowd of male drunks had started to enter the hall. Georgie and Marty exaggerated their relationship and sexuality by tightening their embrace and smooching earnestly but inevitably a pair of drunks approached them and tried to peel them apart. Georgie and Marty had a well-practised technique to block drunken attempts in that they quickly broke their own embrace then span apart in opposite directions and ducked low as they rejoined behind the drunks.
“Not tonight boys, we’re gay!” Georgie declared loudly enough for the immediate dancers to hear and understand.
“What a waste!,” one of the drunks observed equally loudly but he was not too drunk to sense the many eyes upon him as he shrank from any further censure muttering. “It’s a bloody crime!”
Marty angrily snapped back.
“If you were sober, you might have more luck. You’re not a bad looker and you could be fanciable if you weren’t so drunk!”
This insightful riposte caused the drunk to pause but before he could respond, Georgie and Marty had made their way to another part of the dancefloor and started dancing in earnest. It was obvious that their routine was well polished and far above the drunks’ shambolic endeavours so the men turned away for easier pickings.
Their dancing however, soon attracted the notice of some experienced eyes across the floor and later, a lady who Marty recognised as one of her Performing Arts lecturers, approached them from across the hall. As the pair slumped on some unoccupied chairs the lady addressed them.
“You dance well.” The lecturer opined.
The pair looked up but remained expressionless until Marty declared.
“Yeah, but we only dance together.”
“That could still work, - for us. I help run a dance troupe for the college theatrical society. We’re always looking for innately skilled dancers.”
“What sort of dance troupe?” Marty dug deeper.
“We help other societies to put on shows and supply extras for local theatre groups and such. We also put on our own shows for charity and stuff about two or three times a year.”
“What? You mean like chorus lines and such?”
“Yes, for pantomimes mostly.”
Marty turned to Georgie and asked. “What d’ you think?”
“How much practice a week?” Georgie asked the lecturer. “High kicking and stuff means you have to keep flexible and fit.”
“The lecturer nodded and grinned.
“I’ve seen Marty jogging most evenings, - to and from the running track. Do you keep fit?” She asked as she eyed up Georgie’s slender athletic body.
“Yes, I go street jogging in Hyde Park mostly, with a group of friends. Marty’s got a tighter study schedule than mine so we can’t jog together much.”
The dance lecturer smiled encouragingly.
“Well we rehearse about three or four times a week. If you’re interested come by the gymnasium next Monday evening.”
So saying, the lecturer gave a brief warm smile and left. The pair were left sipping their drinks and Marty turned thoughtfully to Georgie.
“What d’you think?” Marty asked her partner again. “I think it might work.”
“I’m thinking of your study schedule.” Georgie mused. “You have to get through a lot of reading material while I simply have to solve the maths problems the professor sets. I’m his blue-eyed girl.”
“Yeah, I’ve heard. But maths is a gift, you’ve either got it or you haven’t.”
“I still have to read stuff, and learn new stuff every week, it’s just that; well, the maths comes easy. I can’t help that, it must be from my dad.” Georgie replied a little defensively. “Do you want to go on Monday?”
“Well, it’s another string to my bow on my CV.” Marty smiled.
“Okay, let’s give it a whirl.,” Georgie grinned as she stood up to dance gain.
After exhausting themselves for another hour, the pair dragged themselves off the floor and limped contentedly out of the union building towards their hall of residence. They were immediately approached by a girl who asked where they were going and if she could accompany them. Both Marty and Georgie tensed and paused as they cast around for any other suspicious people while they moved towards a street-light’s protective glare.
“Which Hall?” Georgie asked the girl as Marty continued looking around.
She gave the same name as the hall of Marty and Georgie as she explained. “I’ve seen you going in and out. You live on the third floor at the end by the main stairs and the lift. How do you stand all the noise and traffic?”
“We’re heavy sleepers.” Georgie smirked as she wrapped her arm around Marty’s waist and they resumed walking while pausing for the occasional snatched snog.
The girl kept looking at them and frowning slightly.
“Aren’t you worried about people attacking you, being gay and stuff?”
“Yes,” Georgie replied. “That’s why we stick together and usually leave early before the main crowd stagger out after closing.”
“There’s talk of the halls organising escort groups; there’ve been two attacks already this term.”
“Yes. We know.” Marty agreed as they entered the lift.
“Do you think it’s a student or some external prowler?” The girl asked as they stepped out on the same floor.
“Who knows.” Georgie sighed as Marty whipped out her key and quickly opened the door.
The pair were inside with the door locked again before the girl realised she was alone.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“What d’you think?” Marty asked as Georgie checked the cameras.
“Could be genuine, could be a honey trap.” Georgie opined as she expanded the field of the hidden door camera. “Look there’s two more girls with her now. Where did they come from?”
“They must have been bloody waiting for us!” Marty cursed.
“Yes. But why?” Georgie wondered. “It was definitely some sort of reception or ambush.”
“More Terfs?” Marty asked.
“Let’s listen to what they’re saying.”
As she spoke, Georgie adjusted the sound and they both listened in to the group still assembled outside their door. The girl they’d accompanied back to hall was explaining to the others.
“They’re bloody cagey. They disappeared in a moment as I was getting my call button out of my bag. When I turned around, they’d gone.”
“Which room?” Another asked
“It’s got to be 301. 302 would have brought them into my line of sight.”
“Shall we try to talk to them?”
“It’s pointless, they’ve made it obvious they’re not interested. We’ll call it a night and try again another day.”
So saying, the group disappeared out of camera shot as they dispersed up the corridor.
“They’ve probably gone to miss ‘Please escort me home’s’ room.” Georgie suggested as she transferred the video record of the incident to a memory stick.
“If this gets more invasive, I’m going to the Uni!” Marty declared emphatically
“Let’s see where it goes. I’ll get some body cameras tomorrow.”
“It doesn’t look as though it’s going anywhere nice.” Marty replied.
Georgie felt bound to agree as they prepared for bed.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Dot and Sam 22
Dorothy Philpot. Landlady of The Harbour Light pub
Sam Philpot. Drag-queen.
Billy Parkins Doorkeeper.
Jessica Merlot The town’ and county archaeologist.
Josephine MacDonald The town and county archivist.
Richard Drummond Town planning inspector
Robert Vincent. Junior planning inspector.
Georgina. (Georgie) Homeless Transgender girl previously known as George.
Bobby Gay boy on the school bus.
Marty Girl on the school bus. (She becomes Georgie’s best friend and lover)
Jack. Marty’s twin brother (Keen runner).
Trevor Aitkins, Georgie’s Biological father.
Lucinda Aitkins Georgie’s biological mother
Terence Georgie’s step-dad
Allison. Old school friend of Trevor
Fred Allisons husband
Elizabeth Aitkins (Beth) Georgie’s younger sister. Later proves to be sympathetic to her ‘sister’
Jonathon Aitkins (Johnny) Georgie’s younger brother.
Sunday morning arrived as predicted, very cold, wet and windy. Marty briefly broke from their embrace to stretch her neck and peek out to watch the trees bordering the little lawn outside their hall. The branches were swaying furiously as the autumn leaves were torn off and piled up in the corners. For Marty peeping from behind the curtain, it was delicious to watch the stormy scene while her body was still warm and toasty in Georgie’s embrace under the duvet. She felt Georgie’s smooth silky leg gently slide over her thigh and all thoughts of the storm were lost.
“Mmm!” Marty purred throatily as she released the corner of the curtain and turned away from the window, “glad I don’t have to go to lectures today.”
“Likewise,” Georgie concurred as Marty’s arm returned to curl around her back and their bodies pressed urgently together again.
It was noon before they reluctantly surrendered their intimacy to other bodily needs before finally appearing in the refectory for food. Sex had made them hungry.
As they ate, both girls flipped their phones to find several messages and the lunch table was briefly silent of chat as they devoted their interests to the phone. Eventually, Georgie finished her food and turned to Marty.
“My jogging friends are asking if I’m going to the park despite the rain.”
“Huh! Good luck with that!” Marty grinned, “unless you’re a bloody mermaid.”
“I like jogging in the rain." Georgie confessed. "It keeps me cool so I’ve said yes.”
“Well, I’ll go to the library then, and perhaps the gym later.”
While both very closely attached to one another, Marty and Georgie also knew and respected each other’s boundaries. They separated outside the refectory and went their own ways. At the large memorial statue in the park, Georgie met her jogging friends and they set off as a largish group before dividing into comfort groups depending on their personal speeds and endurances. Eventually, they would regather by the memorial statue for a head-count before returning to the college refectory. Despite it being broad daylight and raining, perverts wee still to be found in the wide expanses of the park.
When Georgie had completed her routine she phoned Marty who had completed her essay and had gone to the gym. By late afternoon they met on the steps of their hall and went up to their room to find a message chalked on their door.
“Keep men out of women’s spaces”
Marty’s heart missed a beat while Georgie bristled. Both girls took pictures and immediately posted them on the student website as well as emailing the college authorities. Then they videoed each other cleaning the chalk off the door.
“Do you think they’ve found out about you?” Marty asked Georgie.
“I don’t see how.” Georgie replied. “Thanks to the SS, my school history is virtually a closed book. I applied as a girl and registered as female when I came up. All my college records and exam results are registered female so I’m pushed to see how they found out; if they found out. This might just be a campaign because we are lesbians, they know we’re lesbians and they’re angry that we haven’t joined their cause.”
“I hope you’re right,” Marty frowned wistfully. “The problem is we’ve now become high-profile lesbians. Poster girls if you will. I think the Terfs are determined somehow to drag us into their campaign.”
“Well, until we get some sort of response from our faculties we’ll have to tread carefully. The next step is private body-cams.”
“They’re expensive,” Marty lamented. “I don’t have that sort of bunce.”
“Your protection is my protection,” Georgie replied, “I’ll speak to my dad and sort it.”
Having taken a proactive step, the partners stripped from their sport kits and joined each other in the shower. Later, Georgie phoned her dad who promised to get body-cams on the Wednesday when he was next in London, so for the Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday they were on tenterhooks. During those days, the college called them in to chat with the student counsellor.
The upshot was that Georgie was much more forthright and mature about the approaches the Terfs had made. She gave names and faces and showed the counsellor the video she had taken of the meeting outside their door. When confronted with the video the Terfs claimed it was an invasion of their privacy but the counsellor referred them to the many notices on campus and in the halls concerning the presence of video cameras. She declared that Georgie’s door camera was no more than that, a door camera. Privately however she expressed her concerns to Georgie and Marty about the student’s using private videos to monitor the public spaces.
Georgie defended her tactic by declaring that the door-cam was inside their door and therefore inside their personal space. Their bedroom could not be considered a public space even if the camera was pointing outwards.
The counsellor gave a tight little smile. Security on campus was a perpetual headache, so any extra cameras were welcome, especially when any unwelcome incident occurred. College security was expensive so any small addition to resources, was welcome. Georgie and Marty’s input had already proven beneficial so the three cameras in Georgie and Marty’s room stayed. They were joined on the Wednesday afternoon by the body-cams that Trevor supplied for his daughter and her friend.
The body-cams worked and for the remainder of the Michaelmas term the friends had no bother. Georgie wore hers almost constantly while Marty wore hers whenever she deemed herself at risk. When they learned of them, several other students who could afford them, took to using them, especially when they learned that the body cams could transmit remotely while recording.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
When the Christmas Panto season arrived, the friends indulged themselves by joining the college chorus line and savouring the social activities that followed on after the theatricals. This involved a Christmas ‘Panto-ball’ where the college theatrical society assembled at the very end of term and danced til midnight and beyond. When Georgie and Marty decided to return to ‘Hall’ they joined a couple of friends and formed a safe foursome to cross the college campus back to hall.
Because they were all dressed in their very revealing chorus line costumes, Georgie thoughtfully decided to hide her body-cam inside a corsage that she had noticed lying idle in the dressing room. She slipped into the loo and tucked the body-cam inside the flamboyant corsage then stepped out while exaggerating her performance. The other girls laughed without realising that Georgie was actually recording them as they prepared to cross the campus in their outrageous costumes. Apart from their shoulder bags the other girls wore nothing but their sparkly dance leotards, head-feathers, tights and tap heels.
“Don’t forget to bring those back tomorrow!” The stage manager called after them as they skipped and postured comedically along the path.
It was as they approached the obscured corner, that the foursome was suddenly confronted by a gang of men who obviously had issues with girls in ridiculously revealing outfits dancing in the street during the small hours. The gang appeared out of the bushes to attack the girls while shouting ethnic religious abuse and slogans calling them whores and daughters of the great Satan.
Georgie, being transgendered, had grown up becoming supersensitive to any street dangers and she had immediately sensed the danger while the other girls were still fooling about doing high kicks and spins in their heels. Unfortunately, the girls where all wearing theatrical tap-dancing heels and they could not be easily slipped off. Georgie had time to wedge hers in the arm bracket of a park bench and snap the straps ready to kick off her shoes. Then with the loudest shriek she could muster, she launched an accurate and very successful heel kick at what was obviously the older, fatter leader of the gang.
As he gasped and bellowed, the rest of the girls had now realised they were under attack and a general screaming melee started on the obscured junction. Georgie realised she had no chance of overpowering even one of the attackers but she realised if she launched her long theatrical nails at the fat man’s face she might cause blood to flow. She had now kicked off her heels while her friends were screaming in fear and so she jumped onto the park bench to gain a purchase then launched herself again at the fat old leader who was still gasping and cursing in pain. Her sharp nail extensions slashed his cheek while dragging off his scarf and she caught a brief glimpse of his face before she leapt off the park bench and sprinted for all she was worth to the doors of the hall.
There she screamed fit to burst her lungs and hammered on the doors of the hall while cursing that she had not got a key with her. Marty had agreed to take her key and they certainly had not anticipated getting separated. As she waited on the steps of Hall, she heard the screams and shouting still coming from the junction where they had been attacked. Eventually the night porter, ( A recent innovation at the insistence of the girls, since the recent attacks,) answered the door and identified Georgie as she had stepped back onto the path. She was now holding her body-cam taking video images of the mayhem and simultaneously recording and transmitting the images to her computer just two windows above her..
“Come inside girl, the security guards are on the way!” The Ported advised as he stared at the mayhem down the path.
Georgie screamed back.
“Just keep the door open if I need shelter. I’m trying to get good images for the record!”
The warden cursed angrily but did as asked and once Georgie realised she had a bolt-hole, she rested her mobile against a signpost to get steadier images for her hands had been shaking.
Suddenly the gang dispersed and Georgie recognised two male security guards running towards the melee. They failed miserably to catch any attackers because the guards were fat and middle aged and the attackers had been mainly men in their twenties and thirties as best Georgie could discern. The older fatter man whom Georgie had slashed with her nail extensions, was the very first to run and he was nowhere to be seen when the police finally arrived The found a scene of carnage as the warden and Georgie attended to the injured girls while the guards stood guard and also treated the girl’s injuries.
Georgie cursed as she attended Marty’s badly bruised face and broken jaw, while the other girls had suffered similar levels of trauma, mostly to face and arms. One of the other girls called Gypsie, had a broken wrist while the fourth had some broken fingers and concussion. All of them except Georgie were bleeding heavily from cuts to heads and faces. Finally, the girls’ dance leotards had been torn open and all the girls had scratched and bruised breasts.
Eventually an ambulance arrived and the girls were transferred to casualty.
Once the girls were calm enough the police took their statements and it soon became clear that the attack was a religiously motivated hate crime.
“They were all wearing those religious scarfs so it was impossible to identify them!” The girls chorused.
“Yes, they mostly had foreign accents, somewhere from the middle east but we can’t tell. Two sounded like local accents though.”
Eventually the statements were completed and the girls returned from hospital to hall where the news was beginning to spread wild fire amongst the few remaining students who had not yet gone home for Christmas.
The following day, after spending the early afternoon in bed, Georgie woke to find Marty still asleep, then she recognised the sachets of sleeping pills and strong pain-killers that the hospital had given her to help her sleep until the following day. Marty’s cuts and bruises were quite extensive and Georgie decided to let her sleep on while she transcribed the video evidence on her body-cam and prepared a copy for the police.
Georgie was dyed-in-the-wool transgender who had endured too much abuse since she had realised her condition and then mistakenly, come out in middle-school. To say that Georgie had become theophobic in her later teens, was something of an understatement; but she kept her rage under a very tight rein.
Now however, the muslim ‘morality patrols’ had overstepped the mark and Georgie had the damming evidence.
“Thank you daddy for these expensive body-cams!” she offered up to her absent father as she created several copies and prepared to take one to the police the following morning.
She did not even mention her secret to Marty when her friend awoke the following morning, wincing from her cuts and bruises.
As Marty winced every time she tried to speak, Georgie prepared the high protein and vitamin drink that the hospital had supplied.
“Don’t talk, just sip this.” Georgie offered as she passed the sippy cup and straw.
“Thanks,” Marty croaked as her trembling hand gratefully took the large plastic drinking cup.
“Think of it like a Big Mac strawberry shake,” Georgie smiled sympathetically, “but not so difficult to suck.”
Marty just smiled and nodded her thanks as Georgie gently plumped up the extra pillow.
Once she was happy that Marty had everything to hand for comfort, Georgie explained.
“I’ve got to go back down the police station now. I’ll be back by mid-afternoon.”
“Wha- for?” Marty mumbled through her swollen mouth and bandaged jaw.
“I’ll tell you when I get back.”
Marty frowned questioningly but Georgie was already leaving.
Outside the college campus, Georgie treated herself to a taxi and visited the police officer who was handling the case.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Dot and Sam 23
Dorothy Philpot. Landlady of The Harbour Light pub
Sam Philpot. Drag-queen.
Billy Parkins Doorkeeper.
Jessica Merlot The town’ and county archaeologist.
Josephine MacDonald The town and county archivist.
Richard Drummond Town planning inspector
Robert Vincent. Junior planning inspector.
Georgina. (Georgie) Homeless Transgender girl previously known as George.
Bobby Gay boy on the school bus.
Marty Girl on the school bus. (She becomes Georgie’s best friend and lover)
Jack. Marty’s twin brother (Keen runner).
Trevor Aitkins, Georgie’s Biological father.
Lucinda Aitkins Georgie’s biological mother
Terence Georgie’s step-dad
Allison. Old school friend of Trevor
Fred Allisons husband
Elizabeth Aitkins (Beth) Georgie’s younger sister. Later proves to be sympathetic to her ‘sister’
Jonathon Aitkins (Johnny) Georgie’s younger brother.
Part 23
The lady police officer greeted Georgie by the police reception desk with a questioning smile of sympathy.
“You said you’d remembered some more information.
Georgie just nodded for she thought it best not to broadcast her information all around the station.
“Somewhere private I think, please.” Georgie almost whispered.
The police-woman squinted then nodded slowly as Georgie surreptitiously opened her palm to secretly reveal the memory stick. The officer’s eyes widened with expectation and immediately led her star witness to a private interview room.
As they sat across the table Georgie asked.
“I might need your advice about this.”
“What’s on it?” The policewoman asked as they stepped into a private room.
“Body-cam footage of the attack.” Georgie replied after briefly scanning the interview room for any cameras. “It’s mainly the older man who attacked me. He was wearing traditional Islamic dress.”
So saying, Georgie opened her phone and played the video from the body-cam. As the police-woman watched, her eyes widened with concern yet delight. After it was finished she grinned widely at Georgie.
“Do you know who that is?” She questioned Georgie.
“Yes, he’s the one who attacked me.”
“Well, obviously, but do you recognise him?”
“Not as such, but I think he’s some sort of religious fanatic. I mean wearing a jebella in December must be bloody freezing; what’s more, he’s bare legged and all; especially if he’s an old man.”
“He’s not that old.”
“Oh! So you do know him then?” Georgie frowned. “Is he some sort of known fanatic then. I’ve heard about these muslim morality patrols but I thought they were down the east end.”
“Usually they are but your video shows a new development. And yes, I do know him.”
“So who is he then?”
“It’s a bit sensitive.”
“What d’ you mean, sensitive? It’s serious and he needs to be bloody stopped, quickly. My friend’s got a broken jaw and the other two were badly knocked about as well. Gypsie’s got a broken wrist and Susie’s got broken fingers no less.”
“I’ll have to speak to the superintendent about this.”
“What d’you mean; the superin-bloody-tendent?” Georgie cursed. “This is an open and shut case of GBH! If you recognise this bastard then it’s straight to the DPP”
“It’s not as straightforward as that. I hope you’re not going to post that video online.”
“I’m not stupid. I’ve experienced stuff like this before so I’ll be patient. I came to you first because this evidence is vital to your case but I want to see action on it!”
The police-woman gave a feint worried frown and reluctantly agreed that she would pursue the case vigorously. Georgie was not entirely convinced and left wondering why the police seemed hesitant.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Back at student’s hall the building was agog with foreign students talking eagerly about the attacks. Georgie was quietly relieved that the local students had mostly gone down for Christmas but a couple of the Terfs that Georgie recognised were still staying in Hall. As soon as Georgie emerged from her room after checking on Marty she was accosted by the Terfs.
“We heard that one of your friends was attacked! Is it true?”
Georgie wanted nothing to do with them and she tried to squeeze past them but they blocked her.
“Do you mind! I’m trying to get past you!” She protested mildly to avoid being accused of bullying or any other trumped-up claim.
“Just answer the question, is it true?”
“Speak to the college authorities if you want to know.”
“They’re not saying anything, we simply want to know if it’s true.”
“Yes, it’s true,” Georgie conceded, “now let me get past.”
Reluctantly, they parted but issued a challenge as Georgie pushed past.
“If you know anything, you’d better tell us.”
“If I knew anything, I’d tell the police, not you.”
This disarmed the Terfs’ argument and they stared mutely at Georgie’s back as she sped down the stairs. In the refectory she met Gypsie, her friend with the dislocated wrist.
“It looks sore,” Georgie commiserated.
“It is,” Gypsie confirmed. “Did you get a look at that one in the Arab thing?”
“Yes and I’ve described him to the police.”
“Good; have they said anything yet?”
“What they always say, they’re looking into it.”
“Fat lot of use, that is.” Gypsie bristled.
“Nah, this time they might have to do something.” Georgie offered helpfully.
“How come?”
“Apparently they got them on some street cameras after leaving the campus.”
“I bloody hope so!” She cursed as she cautiously fidgeted with the itching plaster on her wrist. “They sounded foreign to me.”
“Yeh. I thought that as well.”
“Did you tell the police?”
“Yes, did you?”
Gypsie nodded and stared pensively into her cup before declaring.
“My mum works in the foreign office and if they catch them she’ll move to have them deported if they are foreign.”
“Good for her,” Georgie agreed before giving her farewells and visiting the campus shop for some food.
When she got back to their room she found Marty sitting up at the study table in the other room.
“Howdy soldier, how’s the jaw?”
“Sore. Have there been any developments?”
“The Terfs are on the warpath.”
“Fat lot of use they are, they’ll probably say it was trannies.”
“Doubt it. They were ethnics with beards.”
“Did anybody see that?”
“Yes, I did and Gypsie says she caught a glimpse of one when he damaged her wrist as she was trying to drag his scarf off.”
“So they were ethnics?”
“Definitely. The one I kicked, was wearing a Jebella not a white raincoat.”
“Good for you,” Marty smiled. “Where did you learn Martial arts?”
“In the school of ‘hit-first-then-ask-later’.”
“You were quick to spot them.”
Georgie shrugged confessionally.
“School of hard knocks love. I hit out first if there’s any doubt, then run like hell. It worked this time.”
Once Georgie had told Marty enough to satisfy her curiosity they settled down to a light meal before Georgie fell asleep on her bed. Marty soon joined her but they only cuddled each other gently, hugging was too painful for Marty. The following morning, Trevor picked them both up from Hall and drove them home for Christmas. In the car they chatted at length about the attack but Georgie gave little away for she wanted to see how the police handled the case. The reluctance of the police-woman to press forward eagerly with charges intrigued Georgie, but she wanted to see what was restraining the police.
At home, Georgie immediately resumed work in the restaurant, but Marty had to wait until after Christmas because of her injuries. Dot iterated all the hours that Marty lost due to her injuries in case Marty was in a position to sue for damages against her attackers.
Eventually Georgie received a letter inviting her to meet the college principal at the beginning of the Spring term. As they drove up in Trevor’s car She told Marty about the letter.
“How come you received a letter?” Marty asked. “Nobody’s contacted me at all since the first police interview.”
“I’ll find out when I get to college. I’ve got an interview with the principal.”
That afternoon, Trevor excelled himself helping both girls get resettled then advised his daughter Georgie to contact him if there was anything she was dissatisfied about with the interview. The following morning, Georgie was standing outside the principal’s office and straining to make out the conversation within. There were three voices but Georgie only recognised two, namely the principal and the police-woman handling the case. The voices were subdued so Georgie had no idea whom the third person might be. At ten precisely by her watch, she tapped the door and it was opened by the principal immediately.
“Ahh Miss Aitkins, do come in.”
Georgie entered and paused uncertainly before being invited to sit at a table with the others. She studied the owner of the unrecognised voice then returned her gaze to the Principal who promptly explained.
“This is Sergeant Thomas, whom you know of course, then me and finally Mr Azar Karim ibn Wahabi the deputy cultural attaché for The Islamic Kingdom of Durhan.”
“Cultural Attache? Georgie queried suspiciously.
“Uuhm, yes.” The Principal hesitated before plunging in. “It seems there was serious misunderstanding on the night of your assault and Mr Karim would like to try and make amends.”
“Misunderstanding!!” I gasped incredulously. “What sort of misunderstanding?”
“Well; mainly a cultural misunderstanding with religious undertones.”
“It was a lot more than a misunderstanding, it was a violent, collective assault organised with deliberate intent to injure us!” Georgie snapped angrily.
The attaché shifted uncomfortably in his seat before offering a conciliatory deal.
“Miss Aitkins, My government is extremely sorry for the assault, it was entirely due to our representative imam exceeding his remit to guide our Dhuranic students in their religious responsibilities on this campus and other campuses around London.”
Georgie paused for thought before pointing out.
“They wouldn’t have any religious responsibilities on this campus anyway. The college is completely devoted to pure sciences and natural sciences. There is no theology taught here. Are you telling me that this assault was ordered and led by jihadists?”
“I would not put it as strongly as that.”
“But he, or they, came from your country; sent by your government.”
“Unintentionally and accidentally, yes. The terrorist cell he belongs to, managed to infiltrate their way into the educational branch of our cultural exchange arrangement.”
“He’s still responsible for some violent criminal assaults. That can’t go unpunished.”
The police sergeant intervened.
“Unfortunately, the Iman is a direct employee of the Dhuranic diplomatic team and he therefore enjoys diplomatic immunity.”
“What from criminal prosecution for violent assault and GBH!”
“Sadly, yes, but our foreign office has demanded his immediate recall.”
“Big deal!” Georgie cursed. “How fast is immediate?”
“It will take about a week or so,” the attaché confirmed.
“So all the time we’ve been home for Christmas, that pervert has been walking freely around London college campuses.”
“The Dhurhan diplomatic corps needed your affirmation.”
“Well they’ve bloody got it and tell them not to send any more violent perverts to London! God knows we’ve got enough home-grown ones.”
“I’m afraid there’s little more the college can do Miss Aitkin. We’ll be tightening security checks on any staff allowed special access to the college.” The principal apologised,
“What good is that when even if you catch the culprits they are outside the law. The whole bloody business stinks.”
With that said, Georgie realised there was little to be achieved so she made her excuses and left. Moments later, the police sergeant caught her on the stairs.
“What are your feelings about that mess.”
“I’m bloody angry. Those bastards always get away with shit. I’m told he actually lives on Campus at the City college; it’s a disgrace considering all the female students and gays who attend all the art and theatrical courses there.”
“Well, he’ll be gone in a week.”
“Thank God!” Georgie finished angrily as the police sergeant slid into her patrol car.
However, Georgie’s mind was working quickly and she walked quickly to the student’s union building to get the telephone number from the Terf poster pinned discretely to the corner of the last information board. Minutes late she was talking to the Terf who had approached her about joining their organisation.
“Why the change of heart?” The Terf asked.
“You’ve heard that four of us were attacked just a few yards from Hall.”
“Yes, but they’ve caught the ringleader.”
“Yeah, he’s a bloody imam attached to the University of London. He goes around organising morality patrols and worse.”
“Well they’ve got him now, how badly were your friends hurt?”
“Gbh; but no action’s being taken, he’s got diplomatic immunity and he’s been recalled home to Dhuran. He gets off scot free.”
“You’re joking!”
“No shit. He lives in a flat that doubles as a mosque on City campus. Haven’t you got any uuhm, friends.”
“Was it definitely him?”
“Definitely. My body cam got a perfect mug shot and video. It’s him all right, the Dhuran embassy have more or less confirmed it by recalling him. I can print out a picture for you if you want clear evidence, but it’s a drop and crop so it’ll be untraceable”
“Leave it with us then. We Terfs have got friends in low places.”
“Thanks, now wipe your phone. I’ve used a burner.”
“Definitely.” The Terf affirmed and Georgie smiled a tight little smile. “Oh the irony,” she grinned to herself, “if the Terf but knew she was talking to a trans.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Dot and Sam 24
Dorothy Philpot. Landlady of The Harbour Light pub
Sam Philpot. Drag-queen.
Billy Parkins Doorkeeper.
Jessica Merlot The town’ and county archaeologist.
Josephine MacDonald The town and county archivist.
Richard Drummond Town planning inspector
Robert Vincent. Junior planning inspector.
Georgina. (Georgie) Homeless Transgender girl previously known as George.
Bobby Gay boy on the school bus.
Marty Girl on the school bus. (She becomes Georgie’s best friend and lover)
Jack. Marty’s twin brother (Keen runner).
Trevor Aitkins, Georgie’s Biological father.
Lucinda Aitkins Georgie’s biological mother
Terence Georgie’s step-dad
Allison. Old school friend of Trevor
Fred Allisons husband
Elizabeth Aitkins (Beth) Georgie’s younger sister. Later proves to be sympathetic to her ‘sister’
Jonathon Aitkins (Johnny) Georgie’s younger brother.
Chapter 24
“For the first month of the Spring term there was a noticeable increase in security patrols around Georgie’s college campus. There was even a single daily patrol by the police, mainly after the refectory had finished serving regular meals, or between seven and ten p.m., as students trafficked to and from the various libraries or laboratories. There were no more attacks at Georgie’s college but there was a serious ‘racially motivated’ attack upon the Iman who attended to cultural and religious affairs at the City College. He was badly beaten up and for several weeks the police were buzzing around like bees at a hive but eventually, the issue came to nothing.
The man had returned to his home country in the Middle East before the police investigations had even finished.
Rumours eventually emerged that the victim was the Iman who had orchestrated ‘morality patrols’ at various locations around London, usually close to or even upon university campuses and occasionally down the east end of London where a large ethnic religious community existed. The police consequently got nowhere with their inquiries and indeed, there was little motivation to dig deeper.
For Georgie however, life became briefly complicated as the Terfs tried strenuously to get her to join their organisation. Several times they approached her with beseechments to ‘support their cause’ but Georgie pleaded that she and her partner Martina had ‘done their bit’ for women’s security and they were engrossed in studies. By Easter, the furore had died down and Georgie breathed a little lighter because her transgender secret had not been exposed.
Secrets however, rarely last forever if more than one person knows and regrettably, both Georgie’s siblings had learned of her transitioning. Ordinarily this would not have mattered but her younger sister Elizabeth (affectionately known as Beth’) had learned during a brief mobile call that Georgie and Marty were staying in college during the easter hols to indulge in some heavy swotting preparatory to the summer exams. On realising that Georgie would be in London over Easter, Beth begged and cajoled her older sister to let her bed down in their room for a couple of weeks.
“I promise I won’t be any trouble. I’ll be out and about exploring the city during the day.” She pleaded.
“And what about at night. Both Marty and I tend to burn the midnight oil sometimes.” Georgie objected. “College isn’t a holiday you know.”
“You’ve got two rooms. I can stay in the other room and I’ve brought my own ‘blow-up’ mattress.”
To be frank, Georgie was secretly glad that her sister still wanted to maintain a relationship with her so she approached Marty later that afternoon.
“And she knows everything?” Marty checked. “The whole caboodle; my lesbianism, your sexual preferences, everything.”
“Yes.” Georgie affirmed. “She knows the score.”
“She’d better. There will be no nonsense or partying. I’ve got to work cos I’m finding some stuff difficult and our deal was that you’d help me with some of the difficult stuff.”
“Yes, I’ve warned her about us being here to work and I’ve warned her especially about me and the Terfs.”
“Good then. Well, we can give it a try, if it doesn’t work out then she has to go home. No questions no protests, she’ll be on probation.”
“Absolutely,” Georgie agreed then she phoned her dad to discuss the arrangement.
A week later, Beth duly arrived by coach but much to her surprise, their younger brother Johnny was with her. Georgie gasped when she saw him on the bus and immediately tackled Beth.
“What’s he doing here? He CAN NOT STAY IN HALL! It’s a female hall only.”
“He’s staying with Dad just for one week. Dad’s got a big project on and he’s staying at a hotel for a month or so. I’ll meet Johhny every day in town and just tour the sights. At night he stays in Dad’s room at the hotel. They’ve got a split double bed.
Georgie gave a sigh of relief.
“Thank god for that! They’re dead keen about the ‘no men’ rule in our hall. Some women just want peace to study.”
“Like me for instance.” Marty declared. “No stupid boys doing panty raids and stuff.”
Before even the whisper of a smirk crossed Johhny’s countenance, Georgie weighed in forcefully.
“We mean it bro! No bloody nonsense! If you visit us on Campus, it’s strictly the union building or the academic buildings. You cannot visit our hall. It’s girls only and that’s how we like it.”
Johnny smirked and was about to make some facile remark about trans-girls but the look he got from Georgie, quickly changed his mind.
Having set the boundaries, they returned to hall where Beth dumped her suitcase while Johhny left his rucksack at the porters lodge to be collected by their dad later.
It was already mid-afternoon by the time the four had toured the campus and familiarised Johnny and Beth with all the useful places so they settled comfortably into the sofas in the union bar and chatted while sipping coffee around a low coffee table. As they chatted and laughed Georgie’s expression suddenly soured and Johnny twisted around to see what she was looking at. A group of girls had entered and while most made for the coffee counter, three of them made a bee-line for the four. Johhny tensed slightly and glanced questioningly at his older sister.
Georgie reassured him there was no threat but warned him not to mention transgenderism. Without even waiting for introductions, the Terfs immediately asked Georgie again about joining them. Having done so, the ringleader produced a paper clipping from the London evening News.
“Have you seen this; about that Imam?”
“Yes, I saw it online last night. He was detained but not arrested because of his diplomatic status. Gypsie’s mother keeps us informed and he’s due to be deported, tomorrow.”
“Good. Who’s this bloke? I thought you were into pretty girls.”
“This bloke as you call him, is Johnathon, my younger brother and while you’re asking, this is Elizabeth, my younger sister.”
The Terf loomed over the lounging Johhny and asked him.
“What d’ you think of your sister being gay?”
Johhny had already sensed the antagonism between the Terf and Georgie so he glanced at his older sister and winked before replying to the Terf.
“What I think is nothing to do with you.”
“Oooh! It speaks.”
Johnny gave her the vee sign and said no more. This unsettled the Terf as she was more akin to immediate verbal responses. She smirked at him and responded.
“Is that all you’ve got to say; two fingers?”
Without looking up, Johnny responded by giving the more American ‘single finger’, then picked up his coffee mug and sipped unconcernedly. The comedic element of his simple sign-language had not been lost on the others for his message had been loud and clear. The group sniggered collectively and the Terf stalked angrily back to her group. Once she was out of earshot Georgie grinned at Johnny.
“Thanks Bro, so what do you think about my changing?”
“As to the sex change thing, I couldn’t care less! As to my getting my sibling back; I’m overjoyed. Though. I just wish you’d meet mum and set her mind at rest. She’s missing you.”
“Early days bro,” Georgie replied, “I won’t meet with Terry or that son Peter of his; ever.”
Johnny shrugged and suggested more coffees to which most of the girls agreed, so he gathered the cups and mugs onto a tray and headed for the counter. After stacking the dirty cups he joined the back of the queue where a group of older male students approached him.
“You’re a lucky bastard,” one of the boys grinned, “how d’ you do it?”
“Do what?” Johnny frowned with puzzlement.
“Get to chat with those beauties.”
“Uuhm, they’re my older sisters and their friends.”
“Yeah, I thought you looked a bit young for Col.”
“Jus’ visiting.” Johnny confirmed as he collected a fresh tray and set out new, clean cups. Then he discovered he needed two trays because some of the girls had ordered snacks.
One of the boys spotted his opportunity and offered to help Johnny with the load. Without thinking, Johnny accepted his offer and the boy used the ploy to leave his friends and join the girls. Suddenly the girls found that they had somehow acquired a ‘follower’.
As the girls fell silently tense the new arrival realised he might not be as welcome as he thought . After placing the second tray down, he paused uncertainly and looked hopefully around the girls. Georgie decided to ease the tension and turned to Johhny.
“What’s this Bro, found a new friend already?”
“Well I – not really he jus’ offered to help.”
“That was cunning dear,” Beth looked up and grinned at the boy. “But if you’re looking to join us I’m afraid it’s girly talk.”
“Can my friends join?” He asked, nodding towards the group of boys he’d left.
“They’re out of luck darling,” Marty added, “we bat for the other side; well, four of us do.”
The boy had the wit and grace to make no further comments but Beth was slightly taken by his insightful demeanour and invited him to join.
“If you behave yourself you can join us but please, no daft questions. I’ll need a chaperone at the union dance tonight. What’s your name?”
Like her older ‘sister’, Beth was a very attractive girl and the boy did not want to miss such an opportunity. He looked around uncertainly again and Georgie decided to warn him.
“She’s my younger sister and she’s sleeping in our hall tonight, but by all means ask for a date. You can share our table but don’t monopolise the conversation.”
Beth bristled slightly at Georgie’s seeming overbearance and immediately moved to regain her independence.
“Don’t listen to my big sister, but she’s right about sleeping, I’m staying in her room tonight.”
Georgie shared a sisterly grin with Beth and bade the boy to sit.
“No funny business now, just sit and chat.”
“Can I sit by Beth?” The boy asked, looking hopefully at the occupied space on the sofa.
“Well, I’m the only straight girl here so you might as well.” Beth opined.
This remark occasioned a quick but agreeable rearrangement of seating and Beth contentedly leaned into the boy’s open arm as he promptly let it fall around her shoulder.
Georgie let out a snigger before commenting,
“Huh! And you don’t even know his name!”
Beth started self-consciously as she turned to ask him but he volunteered it.
“It’s Robert, everybody calls me Bob.”
“There! Happy now?” Beth riposted as she pulled her tongue out towards Georgie.
Georgie just rolled her eyes and took a sip of coffee as the conversation returned to the issue of the Terfs on Campus. This was of little interest to Bob who simply sat silent while very gently squeezing Beth’s shoulder. Then the subject returned inevitably to the violence meted out by Terfs and Bob’s interest perked up.
He had previously resolved to do as he’d promised and keep silent but one of the girls suddenly asked him.
“What would you do if you saw some Terfs attacking a trans-girl?”
“Uh! Wha-? Well. I uhmm, I’ve never thought about it.” He replied, aiming to steer clear of the issue.
“But wouldn’t you move to protect her?”
“Well; I uhmm, well, that’s tricky; I mean, if I’m a bloke and I beat up a woman or even several women, – even though they’re attacking some poor tranny; I’d still be the one charged with battery or something. It’s a lose, - lose situation for a bloke. Besides, most trannies come across as a docker in a frock and they can usually protect themselves; especially if it’s a Terf attack.
His answer held too much painful truth for the girls to take the subject further except that Johnny, being younger, took it a fateful step further without realising. He was thinking of his older sister getting beaten up.
“Not necessarily, lots of trans girls are very feminine these days and vulnerable. So, if the trans-girl’s pretty and very feminine; would you step in then?”
“I dunno’,” Bob confessed. “All I know is that if you touch a woman, lookout. Not all lesbians look like wrestlers either, so how would a bloke know it it’s just a cat-fight or a full-blown Terf attack? I don’t think I would unless the Terfs were obviously chunky or the tranny didn’t pass well.”
“Ooh, listen to the mansplaining,” Beth teased Bob.
Johhny got a little angry cos he thought Bob was being fair and honest.
“Bugger off sis. No tranny deserves to be attacked jus’ because they’re trans.”
At this Johnny indicated the Terfs gathered by the refectory counter.
“Jus look at that lot. What would they do if they found out?”
Even as he spoke, Johnny realised he was stepping into dangerous territory so he instantly fell silent and glanced around uncertainly. Unfortunately, Bob was slightly more astute than most college boys and he squinted curiously at Johhny.
“Found out what?”
“Oh nothing, Johhny replied thinking quickly then adding, “just if somebody in coll was trans or something.”
By now both Georgie and Marty were realising things were getting tricky so they finished their coffees and declared they were going grocery shopping. Glad to spot an escape, Johnny stood up to join them but Beth felt more comfortable wrapped by Bob’s arm. She asked her older sister what time they would be back and agreed to meet her back at their room.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Dot and Sam 25
Dorothy Philpot. Landlady of The Harbour Light pub
Sam Philpot. Drag-queen.
Billy Parkins Doorkeeper.
Jessica Merlot The town’ and county archaeologist.
Josephine MacDonald The town and county archivist.
Richard Drummond Town planning inspector
Robert Vincent. Junior planning inspector.
Georgina. (Georgie) Homeless Transgender girl previously known as George.
Bobby Gay boy on the school bus.
Marty Girl on the school bus. (She becomes Georgie’s best friend and lover)
Jack. Marty’s twin brother (Keen runner).
Trevor Aitkins, Georgie’s Biological father.
Lucinda Aitkins Georgie’s biological mother
Terence Georgie’s step-dad
Allison. Old school friend of Trevor
Fred Allison’s husband
Elizabeth Aitkins (Beth) Georgie’s younger sister. Later proves to be sympathetic to her ‘sister’
Jonathon Aitkins (Johnny) Georgie’s younger brother.
Rosie the Rivetter Terf Gang Leader on campus.
25
In the Campus shop, Georgie cautioned her younger brother about revealing her transgenderism.
“That was close little bro, that Bob guy is not as dumb as you think,”
“I think I side-stepped it; just.”
“Yeah, well think on. The last thing I want is Terf grief. They’re quite an active group on lots of London campuses and if they think they need to attack trans-people, they’re like the religious loony groups; they call in reinforcements from other sources.”
“It’s not that bad.” Johhny protested.
“It bloody well is!” Georgie almost screeched at her younger brother. “Only this spring, a trans-girl got murdered in Birmingham. She was walking home from school and she was murdered by two of her classmates who took the bullying too far. One of them was a girl and she stabbed the trans-girl over thirty times in the chest. She tried to claim that some Terfs had groomed her mind. The jury wasn’t impressed, nor was the judge. Both murderers got life to mean life because of the violence and brutality of the attack not to mention the betrayal of trust. The trans-girl thought they were classmates and friends but they tricked her. The jury deemed it a hate crime; which it was, so the judge threw the book at them to make an example.
You must learn that Terfs not only attack and kill girls like me but they also spread the poison to infect other people’s minds!”
Johhny fell into a thoughtful silence before observing.
“You’re walking a tightrope by mixing with lesbians especially as lots of Terfs are lesbian.”
“I don’t deliberately go out to mix it with lesbians. They choose to approach me because I’m partnered with Marty and my looks attract attention. They try to co-opt all lesbians into their group but most lezzies don’t want the hassle and keep Terfs at arm’s length. I try to, but they’re always pressing me. So long as they don’t learn the prettiest lesbian in the science faculty is in fact a trans, then I can hang in there.
Johhny nodded before he softly admitted.
“Yeah. You are a looker. I’d never have dreamed you would turn out such a pretty girl. You’re gonna’ have to be careful. Those friends of Bob were all over me when they found out I was your brother.”
“Yeah. Don’t I know it.”
With that, Georgie’s phone rang; it was their dad so she answered immediately.
“Yeah I’m with them now. OK, by the Albert Memorial at seven. Yes, he wants to chat.”
Johhny took the phone and spoke briefly to reconfirm the location and time then returned the phone to his sister.
“We’ve got two hours for food,” Georgie observed, “best eat in the refectory, it’s cheap,”
Arrangements were quickly completed and the pair crossed the campus to join up as agreed. Georgie was relieved to find only her friends and siblings plus the boy Bob who had attached himself to her sister Beth. They joined some tables together to form an island by the windows overlooking Georgie and Marty’s dorm. Then after some other lesbian friends joined them they bought their food. When several Terfs arrived, it was made clear they were not welcome as backs turned and cold shoulders were offered. They chose to eat on the other side of the refectory and Georgie was secretly relieved.
‘At least I’ve got some allies around me.’ Georgie thought as she ate.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
By seven, Johnny was sheltering gratefully at the bus shelter near Kensington Gore as the rain bucketed down. Then a taxi pulled up and his father Trevor, called him in.
“Not the night for it.” He joked as Johhny clambered eagerly into the warm shelter of the cab.
As he settled back in the seat his father asked.
“Did you have fun?”
“Yeh but it’s sad Georgie has to be so careful.”
Trevor nodded sympathetically before agreeing.
“Yeah, Trans kids have it tough.”
“I’m meeting them tomorrow at the physics museum.” Johhny advised.
“You mean the science museum. Glad to see you’re not wasting your time.”
“There’s too much to see in London. I’ll never see it all in a week.”
“Well, Georgie’s here for three years, there’ll be plenty of other opportunities. Besides, if you get good results, you could study here.”
They chatted in this vein until the taxi brought them to the hotel and Johhny rushed to change and shower, thus, by eight o’clock he was looking to take in a film.
“Not me son,” Trevor explained. “I’ve work to do and numbers to crunch. You can go out if you want but be back by twelve.”
“May be not.” Jonny decided. “The rain’s still tamping it down. I’ll watch telly if you’ve no objections.”
“I’ll be in the bedroom just keep the sound down.”
The arrangement worked and by midnight they were both asleep. The next morning. Johhny was up early and in the Science museum by ten. He stayed until four when Georgie called to invite him to meet at the student’s union. Fortunately, the rain had stopped and it was only a few blocks to the university. He met his sister Beth first and her new friend Bob, before Georgie arrived followed by Marty and soon they were eating hungrily. Then Georgie looked up.
“Oh look-out, here they come, Rosie the rivetter and her gang.”
“What do they want?” Bob asked.
“Support I suppose,” Marty offered, “another of their transphobic campaigns.”
“Don’t you get tired of it?” Bob asked no one in particular.
“Yeah, it’s a bloody pain,” Johhny replied. “I’ve only been here three days and they’ve approached Georgie twice already. This’ll be a third.”
As the ringleader approached and loomed once again over Georgie, she held out a pamphlet.
“Look at this, another woman attacked in Richmond park.”
Georgie studied the pamphlet then snapped back.
“It doesn’t say anything about a trans attack. It just says the attacker was dressed in female clothes.”
“Trans-sexual or transvestite, what’s the difference?” Rosie countered. It’s men posing as women to access female safe spaces.”
“There’s a lorra’ difference!” Johhny bit back.
The Terf swung on him and glared down.
“Oh and you know the difference do you?”
Johhny was about to snap back but a well-aimed toe-poke by Marty pulled him up short. Instead he just told her to ‘fuck off and sell her poison elsewhere’. Rosi stomped away followed by her entourage while the group returned to their meals. After eating, they retired to the union and eventually, Johhny took the tube to the hotel. He was beginning to feel quite confident moving around London.
For the rest of the week, Johhny’s routine stabilised to sight-seeing and museums during the day and calling on his sisters at the campus by day. He did not go sight-seeing with his sister Beth because their interests differed widely, though they did occasionally meet up for a brief lunch.
By the Friday, Trevor’s work in London was ending and he agreed to meet Georgie and drive her to Paddington Station before, he, Beth and Johhny were driving home to Birmingham. Johhny arrived early at the rendezvous and was sat savouring a custard tart when he heard a commotion outside the café a couple of blocks from the station. At first he tried to ignore the ruckus but then he recognised the girl’s scream. It was his sister Georgie.
He erupted from his seat and called to the cashier that his sister was in trouble and he’d pay later. With that he burst from the shop and quickly recognised the attackers as three of the Terfs from the college. Johnny was a tall lad for his age and a good athlete, so he quickly fell upon the trio and tore them off his sister.
Three women are no match for a sixteen-year-old boy unless they are some sort of martial arts exponents and in seconds Johhny had disabled one of the Terfs while putting the rest to flight. His next move was to check out his sister while simultaneously detaining the Terf.
“I’m calling the police you fucking thug!” She screamed.
“You do that.” Johhny snarled back as he recorded her image on his phone before turning again to his sister.
“D’ you know her Georgie?”
Georgie nodded as she dabbed her swollen lip and cautiously felt her blackened eye.
“Yes. She’s one of Rosie the rivetter’s ‘gofors’.” Georgie mumbled through her split lip.
Johhny motioned to the girl at the till and asked her to call the police she waved confirmation then pointed to the table to indicate that Johhny still had an unfinished tart and mug of coffee.
He glared at Georgie’s attacker and warned her.
“Stay there bitch, if I have to chase you, I’ll catch you easily and a rugby tackle on hard pavement hurts the tackled a lot more than the tackler. I’ll break your bloody shoulder if I have to drop you a second time!”
“She’s a fucking tranny!” The Terf screamed loudly as though she would find sympathisers amongst the gathering watchers.”
“She’s also my sister and family trumps gang every time!” Johhny bellowed back. “Just wait there for the plod.”
By now, Georgie was struggling to her feet and the cashier on the till helped her into the café. Eventually a policeman and policewoman came running out of Paddington Station and Johhny gave his account while the policewoman interrogated the Terf. Several witnesses came forward but the best witness was the cahier on the till because the two cameras inside and outside the café entrance corroborated her evidence. The Terf was arrested while the policewoman took Georgie’s testimony. It was an open and shut case.
After Johhny’s evidence was confirmed by the cameras, he was free to call his dad then, as they waited in the cafe, Marty and Bob turned up on schedule where they held a brief inquiry.
“I don’t understand how the gang knew Georgie was trans,” Johnny declared. “Somebody’s blabbed and it’s not me.”
“I think I do,” Beth admitted. “Bob and I went to the going-down ball last night and we saw Georgie with Marty dancing with the transgender group. Bob recognised Georgie and he asked one of the trans-girls if Georgie was trans. She confirmed it.”
“Shit, I knew we shouldn’t have gone,” Georgie cursed.
“Bob should have kept his mouth shut!” Johhny declared.
“I didn’t know it was supposed to be secret!” Bob protested vehemently. “I only found out at the dance and several other boys heard it. It was all around the dance floor in minutes!”
“Shit, shit, shit!” Georgie cursed. “I’m gonna need protection everywhere I go.”
“We’ll cross that Bridge next term,” Bob declared, “I for one will watch your back and we share the same maths lessons.”
“If we can connect Rosie the Rivetter to the attack, we could get her expelled.” Marty opined, and that was the general opinion when they trudged through the rain to Paddington Station.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Dot and Sam 26
Dorothy Philpot. Landlady of The Harbour Light pub
Sam Philpot. Drag-queen and lifelong companion of Dot’s.
Billy Parkins Doorkeeper.
Jessica Merlot The town’ and county archaeologist.
Josephine MacDonald The town and county archivist.
Richard Drummond Town planning inspector
Robert Vincent. Junior planning inspector.
Georgina. (Georgie) Homeless Transgender girl previously known as George.
Bobby Gay boy on the school bus.
Marty Girl on the school bus. (She becomes Georgie’s best friend and lover)
Jack. Marty’s twin brother (Keen runner).
Trevor Aitkins, Georgie’s Biological father.
Lucinda Aitkins Georgie’s biological mother
Terence Georgie’s step-dad
Allison. Old school friend of Trevor
Fred Allison’s husband
Elizabeth Aitkins (Beth) Georgie’s younger sister. Later proves to be sympathetic to her ‘sister’
Jonathon Aitkins (Johnny) Georgie’s younger brother.
Rosie the Rivetter Terf Gang Leader on campus.
Chapter 26
Beth and Johhny watched Georgie’s train glide away from the platform and disappear into the rain sodden night, then they turned into the rain and ducked into their father’s car as it circled past for the umpteenth time.
“Thanks dad, for waiting.” They chorused gratefully as Trevor pulled into the traffic and picked his way to the M40.
“You’re both like your mother,” he chuckled, “you love long goodbyes.”
“Well we may not see her until Easter or even Summer.” Beth protested.
“It’s only two or three hours down the motorway.” He pointed out. “We could visit her where she lives. Provided you keep your step-father and step-brother away.”
“Does she hate them that much?” Johnny asked.
“She’s more afraid of them than hating them. She’s made it abundantly clear she won’t ever see them. We could probably see her after Christmas even; if you’re that desperate to see her.”
“That would be nice,” Johnny observed softly, “I’d like to meet the women who rescued her when she was living rough, if only to say thank you.”
Eventually, Beth and Johhny dozed off, leaving Trevor free to pick his way through the congested traffic and steadily increasing rain. Later as they approached Birmingham he stopped for a break at a service station. There he confirmed arrangements with Lucinda and later dropped the children off at their mothers. Lucinda wanted to know everything about Georgie’s situation but Trevor was forced to keep it brief as he had work on the Saturday.
“You’d best ask Beth or Johnny. They’ll be able to tell you everything they know”
Lucinda had to accept this brief information and resolved to pump her children in the morning.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
On the train racing ‘none-stop’ westwards to Bristol, Georgie dozed intermittently, grateful for the uninterrupted opportunity to sleep then think; then intermittently think then sleep as she turned the events at college and the attack at Paddington Station, over in her mind. Eventually she decided to take the issue to the student advisor when she returned for the spring term.
Having decided this, she forced the issue to the back of her mind and determinedly tried to sleep. Unfortunately, when the train stopped at Bristol, it filled up with lots of travellers who had travelled down from the north and made the Bristol connection for onward journeys west. Georgie found her peace shattered as new passengers rushed to fill the remaining empty seats. She briefly opened one eye and her heart sank as two ‘likely lads’ immediately seized the opportunity to sit beside an attractive girl.
With all the tumult of suitcases and backpacks being stored in every available space, it was impossible to feign sleep, so instead, she took out her laptop and busied herself with reading her kindle. She hoped the act of reaching into her holder and pointedly addressing her laptop made it abundantly clear that she did not wish to be disturbed. Unfortunately, many men, especially when gathered together, take confidence from their collectivity and deem it acceptable to invade other peoples’ spaces. Especially the spaces of pretty girls.
They were barely seated when one boy asked in a distinctly Cornish accent.
“Were ’re ‘m you a’goin love?”
Georgie barely looked up as she answered monosyllabically.
“West.”
“Home for Christmas is it?”
She simply nodded then started to compile her letter to the student advisor. Her fingers raced over the keys as she quickly compiled the first formalities of the letter and she made it abundantly clear she did not wish to talk.
Then, as she paused and stared thoughtfully at the reflections in the window, she noted with satisfaction that the boy sitting opposite had made a face to his mate expressing dissatisfaction and some slight resentment that the girl was NOT interested.
Pleased that her stratagem had worked, she resumed writing the letter until her phone rang. She opened it and was pleased to see that it was Dot. This gave her an excellent chance to employ the second opportunity to avoid and ignore the boys as she chatted very softly into her phone, while leaving her speaker on just loud enough to confirm that it was a genuine caller on the other end. This frustrated the boys further, for good manners dictated they could not interrupt her conversation. Finally, she reached her stop and was pleased to see that the boys were not alighting.
Within minutes, she was waiting outside the crowded station where everybody was avoiding the fine chilly drizzle whilst waiting for a taxi or looking for their lifts. Eventually, Georgie spotted Dot weaving amongst the many ‘family taxis’ as parents or partners collected their precious, mainly student cargoes. She waved furiously and Dot finally picked a spot to park. It was but a moment to load her bags and settle into the ‘shotgun’ seat where her knees quickly located the heater.
“Ooh that’s nice!” She declared as she leaned over to kiss Dot.
“Good journey?”
“Pretty much. Had to peel two guys off from Bristol to here.”
“Get used to it.” Dot sighed. “You’re pretty.”
Once clear of the town traffic, Georgie answered all Dot’s questions even though she knew that Sam would probably ask the same ones when they arrived at ‘The Harbour Light.
‘At least it showed they cared.’ She reflected.
They were still discussing arrangements for Christmas and New-Year when they arrived at the pub. After an intense hug from Sam they, spent the remainder of the evening sharing the normal routines of the pub as Georgie related her experiences at college and explained her plans for the vacation.
“Basically, Marty’s going skiing in the New Year while Trevor is stopping over in his Harbourmaster’s flat for January. Johhny and Beth might be going skiing but it’s not fixed yet. If they don’t go, they might come down and stay with my Dad.”
“So you’ll not be lonely then.” Dot grinned.
Georgie smiled back. “Crickey mum. It’s Christmas and New year I’ll be too busy to be lonely. Besides, I’ve got you two.”
Both Dot and Sam reached around each other’s back to give themselves a squeeze as they savoured the warmth in Georgie’s words. This was as close to being parents as either of them would ever get and Georgie’s words gave them considerable pleasure. Georgie spotted the brief intimacy and grinned widely.
Inevitably, that evening, there was a lock-in as Dot and Sam’s closest friends sensed the mood and a spontaneous mini-celebration ensued to welcome Georgie home. That night, as the wind and rain returned with a vengeance to hammer on Georgie’s bedroom window, she lay curled contentedly curled up in her duvet and watching the rivulets of water snake sideways across the windowpanes as the wind howled while she counted her blessings.
Came the dawn and Georgie stirred to the sounds of ‘The Harbour Light’ coming to life. Guiltily she crawled out of bed and dressed in anticipation of a hard day’s table work. Downstairs, she found Dot and Sam enjoying their mugs of coffee and she joined them before starting on the cleaning. By eleven they had the pub ready but it being Christmas eve, they knew the traffic would be light until late afternoon when the more organised shoppers stopped to eat before completing their shopping.
“There’s talk of light snow,” Sam remarked as she stood in the porch with the yard-brush, ready to finish their work.
“Well, we’re well stocked up.” Dot added as she placed the pressure hose in Georgie’s hands and cunningly retreated inside. “We can withstand a siege if we have to.”
Georgie slipped on her heavy work gloves and connected the hose before looking up thoughtfully.
“It’s cold enough for snow and that sky looks fit for it. Best we get this forecourt cleaned and get some salt ready inside the porch.”
They fell to their tasks and by the time they were done, Dot had lit the large inglenook fire. This reminded Georgie to stock up on logs so by three pm, the first diners were met by a large welcoming fire. Then Georgie’s phone vibrated and she recognised Marty’s number.
“I’m at the end of the lane and it’s starting to sleet.”
It was but a moment to take the four-by-four and collect her friend whom she found sheltering gratefully in the bus stop. As Marty climbed in Georgie asked her about her re-sit.
“I Passed, all’s well for this year. I wish I had your head for maths.”
Georgie shrugged and asked hopefully. “Are you staying over tonight.”
“If I do, I’ll have to be home early tomorrow, opening presents and stuff. That’s the main part for my younger sibs, and Mum likes it as well.”
“I’ll run you home in this if I have to. Look, there’s a snowflake.”
Before Georgie had finished her sentence, the first snowflakes began to dance in the headlights.
“It’s not heavy stuff, Marty opined, I doubt it’ll stick.”
Back at the ‘Harbour Light’ cars had already arrived and the girls started tabling the moment they got changed. As the restaurant started to fill up, Dot’s mood improved for she had been worried the snow might drive customers away and she’d be left with mountains of food. By four o’clock all the bookings were full and there was a festive clatter of food on plates as Georgie and Marty were kept busy.
By seven, the restaurant was finished and only a few regular singletons sat around the inglenook savouring the heat and the comfort of the circle of wing-back chairs. Christmas eve was mostly a time for family suppers and calming over-excited children. The ones remaining around the fire were poor soles with lonely lives and no families, so the gathering around the huge inglenook was the closest thing they had to a family Christmas.
As the girls sipped their hot glu-wine Georgie raised hopeful questioning eyebrows and Marty nodded slightly to confirm she had confirmed the evening with her parents. Dot and Sam caught the not-so-discreet interaction and smiled indulgently. By midnight, both girls were abed, and ‘a’body’. As they embraced, Marty whispered the agreement she had made with her parents.
“She’d like me home by six or seven, you know what the little ones will be like.
“You’ll have to help me harness the reindeer then,” Georgie giggled as they burrowed eagerly under the duvet.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Marty’s alarm dragged them reluctantly to wakefulness but the thought of turning up early Christmas morning. while the snow lay unsullied by traffic, was attractive to both girls. As the diesel rumble of the four-by-four announced their arrival at Marty’s house, the front door opened to reveal a squad of excited youngsters prancing in the hall while still dressed in pyjamas. To add to the delight, Marty and Georgie collected more presents from the four-by-four and made a show of stamping snow off their boots and coats before embracing the children and giving Marty’s mum a hug.
As she gave Marty’s mum a delightful, boxed necklace, Georgie gave her a last appreciative hug and reluctantly re-entered the four-by-four to make her way back to The Harbour Light.
“Can’t stop,” she apologised, “Needs must when the devil cracks.”
Marty’s mother sighed wistfully as she remarked to Marty.
“Does your friend ever stop? It’ll be hectic in the pub over Christmas.”
Georgie shrugged and grinned as she fastened her seat belt.
“It’ll be quiet in the pub until this evening so I won’t be doing much this morning except helping to make our own Christmas Dinner.”
“Oh is that all!? Just making Christmas dinner.”
“It’s a restaurant mum,” Marty replied pointedly. “Normally they cook for dozens. Today, it’s just three.”
“Well we are seven to dinner so you will have to help with the veg and stuff.” Her mother grinned.
“Slave driver!” Marty chuckled as she waved Georgie off then joined the ‘unwrapping’, around the tree.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Dot and Sam 27
Dorothy Philpot. Landlady of The Harbour Light pub
Sam Philpot. Drag-queen and lifelong companion of Dot’s.
Billy Parkins Doorkeeper.
Jessica Merlot The town’ and county archaeologist.
Josephine MacDonald The town and county archivist.
Richard Drummond Town planning inspector
Robert Vincent. Junior planning inspector.
Georgina. (Georgie) Homeless Transgender girl previously known as George.
Bobby Gay boy on the school bus.
Marty Girl on the school bus. (She becomes Georgie’s best friend and lover)
Jack. Marty’s twin brother (Keen runner).
Trevor Aitkins, Georgie’s Biological father.
Lucinda Aitkins Georgie’s biological mother
Terence Georgie’s step-dad
Peter Terence’s homophobic son.
Allison. Old school friend of Trevor (Retired Lawyer)
Fred Allison’s husband
Elizabeth Aitkins (Beth) Georgie’s younger sister. Later proves to be sympathetic to her ‘sister’
Jonathon Aitkins (Johnny) Georgie’s younger brother.
Rosie the Rivetter Terf Gang Leader on campus.
Chapter 27
As Georgie pulled into the pub yard she spotted her dad Trevor across the basin where he was brushing the snow off his car.
“Hi Dad! You coming over?”
He waved back and explained he’d be over for about ten or eleven because he had some paper-work to complete.
“Crickey Daddy, It’s Christmas Morning, don’t you ever stop?”
“Well if it comes to workaholics Darling, where’ve you just come from. I see the tyre tracks you left earlier this morning.”
“I was running Marty home in time for Santa’s present opening under their tree.”
Trevor grinned as he contemplated his daughter’s Christmas eve; ‘his daughter must have enjoyed two of Santa’s visits already.’
He watched briefly as Georgie picked her way into the pub, then he resumed brushing off his car before returning to his apartment and finishing his accounts. By ten-thirty, he was across the basin and offering to help with the Christmas dinner.
“Too late pops, the veg are done and the bird is cooking. You timed that well.”
Trevor glanced at the already laid dining table and shrugged somewhat apologetically.
“Sorry about the paperwork, you guys certainly move when you want to.”
“We’re professionals Trev.” Sam explained then asked. “Have you brought any presents for the tree?”
“Only some trinkets. You’re too old for dollies and I learned long ago that buying clothes for ladies is the road to ruin.”
All eyes lit up as Trevor produced the small packages and carefully placed them under the tree. By one o’clock, they were seated for lunch and Georgie wasted little time indulging her appetite worked up from early morning. The meal and afternoon went well so Georgie, Trevor and Sam decided to go for a short walk past the stylish new-builds that surrounded the old dock then along the old canal. Dot decided to take a nap in anticipation of the Christmas eve festivities. As darkness was falling Trevor’s phone rang and he paused by the pub porch as Sam and Georgie went in. When he followed them in his happy mood was subdued. Georgie was quick to spot it and raised her eyebrows curiously.
“That was Allison from home.”
“What did she want?” Georgie asked as they sat down to a light tea of cold cuts and salad.
“She and Fred are coming to stay at their cottage for New Year.”
“And?” Georgie pressed.
“Well. It’s a bit awkward, your mum Lucinda and boyfriend Terence have asked to come down.”
“Shit!. Have they nowhere better to go?”
“Hey!” Sam scolded her with a grin. “There aren’t many places better than the Harbour Light at New Year.”
“It’s not so much their coming for New Year, it’s finding out I live here. I just don’t want Terence in my life, or worse, Peter, that homophobic son of his”
“What about your mother?” Trevor pressed hopefully.
“Wherever she goes, he seems to tag along, that and his Neanderthal son.”
“Well, you’ll be safe with us. Billy the bouncer will be on the door. If they cause you trouble or make a scene, Dot can always bar them, this is a pub after all.”
“I hope so,” Georgie sighed. “I presume my step-sisters are going skiing with Johhny and Beth.”
“Yes, they’ll be gone a week and straight back to school or college on return.”
“It’s a pity the Neanderthal isn’t going as well.” Georgie observed.
“His dad needs him for some work immediately after New Year.” Trevor explained. “It gives him pocket money for technical college. He’s going into the building trade hopefully as a stone mason.”
“That makes sense. I doubt he can ski and chew gum at the same time.”
“Now, now girl. Don’t be cruel; stone masonry is a respectable trade, and it’s highly skilled. He’ll be seven years training if he goes the whole course. He may by big oaf, but he’s good with his hands, I’ve seen his work.”
“Yeah, so have I”, Georgie replied softly with a ring of irony.
Trevor glanced at his daughter and frowned but didn’t respond. He was relieved that Georgie was now free and clear of the family trap.
“Well, Peter won’t be coming for the New year so that’s one issue resolved. I’m sure that we can drag your makeup up for the new-year party so that Terry and Lucinda won’t recognise you.”
“What, you mean dress the waitresses up as drag queens?” Dot giggled at the suggestion.
“That sounds like a plan!” Sam laughed. There’s plenty of material back in the changing room. You’d best run it by the other girls though.”
“Will they be safe? You know how men get when they’re drunk.” Georgie wondered.
“As I said, Billy will have extra staff on the door, they’ve already been booked.” Dot assured her.
“Well drag queen is but a short step from Trans I suppose.” Georgie reflected as she picked up her wine glass and tipped the last of the bottle into it.
“But is it a step back or a step forwards?” Sam asked.
“Aah. Now what’s the question.” Georgie mused audibly. “I’d say it’s a step sideways.”
“Well said darling.” Trevor observed. “But I suppose you’re still bent on becoming an engineer or architect.”
“Drag could become a hobby though. It’s fun as well. I’ve seen the fun on weekends when Sam is in her pomp.”
Sam snorted softly then wagged her head as she fixed Georgie in her knowing gaze.
“Don’t you believe all you see girl. It’s hard work to entertain people and continuing to make a living,” Sam observed. “ People can be fickle and remaining popular can wear you down. Take it from me girl, it’s hard work even if I don’t have to travel because the Harbour Light has its own stage.”
“If it was a hobby, it would only be occasionally. Say once a month or something.”
“I suppose that might work,” Sam opined uncertainly.
They continued chatting in this vein until necessity compelled them to prepare for the Christmas night. Georgie’s thoughts turned to the waitressing and table work of the evening as the pub doors opened and people started to trickle in; mostly singletons or couples without children. By midnight, the evening was over and Georgie flopped onto her bed.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
From Christmas Night until New Year’s eve Georgie and Marty worked regular evening hours with the rest of the restaurant staff. When not busy they tended to gather by the kitchen sideboard and chat about the drag outfits they each intended to wear come New Year’s eve. On the day of the party the girls arrived in the early afternoon and started preparing their themed outfits based on the idea of chorus girls. Sam had surpassed herself in running up some glitter bodies and purchasing some matching tights.
“Where in the hell did you get the head bands!” The girls screeched ecstatically as Sam opened a cardboard box to reveal the plumed delights.
“Try them on girls and see what fits who the best.” Dot suggested as she discovered the sparkling heels then turned to Sam.
“Where in the heck did you get these?”
“I’ve still got friends in low places,” she chuckled, “these are for a competition.”
The cackling girls fell silent and turned with mouths agog as Sam explained and held open the box.
There’s pair of showgirl, six-inch, platform heels each to fit you and there is also a pair of flats to change to when feet get sore; as I can assure you they will.
“When the party starts, each girl wears heels until her dogs are barking. I can promise you that you will look gorgeous in them until,- you know what. The girl that lasts the longest unbroken time wearing her heels, win’s half the tip jar takings for the night. The sexier you make yourselves the more tips you make and the bigger the prize for the winner. One last thing; DO NOT go serving drinks outside on the cobbles. Long experience has taught me that cobbles and platform heels DO NOT MIX! I don’t want any broken ankles!
Now, let’s go into the dressing room and get you girls dragged up!”
For the next two hours Dot was left managing the afternoon bar while keeping licentious eyes away from the dressing room door. This proved hard because there was a constant stream of delighted squeals and shrieks interspersed with fleeting glimpses of skimpily dressed nubile young ladies slipping across the alleyway half-dressed to visit the loo. Dot made a mental note to one day have some alterations made to provide a private loo behind the stage. Such a change would also be convenient for the bar staff.
At eight o’clock, as advertised, the New Year festivities commenced with soft introduction of the Infernal Galop by Offenbach coming from the dressing room then to everybody’s delight, six young ladies erupted from the main restaurant into the bar as the sound-track exploded into the Can-Can.
Trevor was crossing the lock gates when he heard the first blaring bars of the Can–Can filter from The Harbour Light. His face split into a wide grin as he anticipated the fun starting in the bar and he picked up his step eager to join the fun. Then, as he stepped off the lock gate, he heard a familiar voice let go a high-pitched squeal and he turned to confirm his suspicion. As he recognised his ex-wife Lucinda and her new partner Terry approaching from under the corner street-light, his grin faded as quickly as it had formed. Cursing softly, he pushed through the pub door to be met by six can-can dancers shrieking and kicking in time to enthusiastic clapping from the audience. Trevor had to look long and hard before he eventually thought he might have recognised Georgie, but he had the wit not to show recognition because he knew how fearful his daughter was of recognition from her step-father.
Their wildly extravagant, ‘devil themed’ make-up designs had been a credit to Sam’s drag expertise and Trevor just stepped back to confirm his first impression. Georgie was completely unrecognisable under the heavy ‘slap’!
As Trevor stepped back from the high-kicking Can-can girls he heard the door open behind him and turned to confirm that Lucinda and Terry had indeed turned up while Allison and Fred their neighbours had followed them in. Lucinda and Terry gave him measured curious looks while Allison greeted him much more affably.
“Nice to see you down for the New Year, Trev, are you staying in your flat?”
“Yes.” He replied whilst hoping that Allison would not mention Georgie.
He gave her a pained look hoping his frown would warn Allison and he was hugely relieved when she gave a brief affirmative nod. Instead, Allison found a table set back amidst the prearranged rows and invited her husband Fred and friends Lucinda and Terry to claim the seats before the pub filled up. As Trevor spotted Allison’s intelligent strategy he gave her a wave and signalled that he was getting them some drinks from the bar. Dot saw the exchange and promptly prepared the drinks. She knew Alison and Fred’s tipples and she only had to confirm Terry and Lucinder’s
As Trevor gave her the order Dot asked in a whisper.
“Is Georgie still incognito?”
“That’s her plan. Is that her with the curly, little red horns?”
“Yes, she’s a good dancer isn’t she?”
“Yes, she and Marty joined the theatre group in college. They train regularly.”
“And is that chunky bloke with Lucy your ex, her step-father?”
“Yeah, he’s made my daughter’s life a nightmare.”
“Well neither he nor your ex seem to have recognised her.”
“Yeah, Sam’s done a brilliant job with the make-up.”
“Let’s keep it that way, I’ll tell the girls the score.” Dot affirmed.
“Thanks Dot. I Owe you.”
Having hopefully set the night up to keep Georgie and her detested step-father apart. Trevor settled on one of the several bar stools aligned along the corner end of the bar. Here regular patrons could look along the stage and view the audience. Almost immediately after the ‘chorus line’ had disappeared into the dressing room, Sam emerged to act as master of ceremonies whilst fully kitted out in an outrageous drag costume. Firstly she cracked a few lines then did a song before introducing the other drag artists. Then the waitresses re-emerged in their outrageous devil-style, Can-can dance costumes. As Georgie and her companions started to serve the tables, Sam went amongst them making the patrons welcome.
Finally she returned to the stage, and laid out a few house rules, including no groping the waitresses. Trevor caught Dot’s eye and nodded his relieved approval for the Can-can outfits were truly provocative.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Dot and Sam 28
Dorothy Philpot. Landlady of The Harbour Light pub
Sam Philpot. Drag-queen and lifelong companion of Dot’s.
Billy Parkins Doorkeeper.
Jessica Merlot The town’ and county archaeologist.
Josephine MacDonald The town and county archivist.
Richard Drummond Town planning inspector
Robert Vincent. Junior planning inspector.
Georgina. (Georgie) Homeless Transgender girl previously known as George.
Bobby Gay boy on the school bus.
Marty Girl on the school bus. (She becomes Georgie’s best friend and lover)
Jack. Marty’s twin brother (Keen runner).
Trevor Aitkins, Georgie’s Biological father.
Lucinda Aitkins Georgie’s biological mother
Terence Georgie’s step-dad
Peter Terence’s homophobic son.
Allison. Old school friend of Trevor & Retired Solicitor
Fred Allison’s husband
Elizabeth Aitkins (Beth) Georgie’s younger biological sister. Later proves to be sympathetic to her ‘sister’
Jonathon Aitkins (Johnny) Georgie’s younger biological brother.
Rosie the Rivetter Terf Gang Leader on campus.
As the party at The Harbour Light was going full swing, Trevor felt a tug at his arm. On turning he met his ex-wife’s worried face as she expressed her concerns.
“I would have thought George would have been with you tonight, Elizabeth and Jonathon both tell me he lives down here in the South-West.”
Trevor shrugged and tilted his head as he made a slightly wry smile.
“No. There’s nobody named George here that I know of.”
“You’ve met our son though, haven’t you? In London according to Jonathon.”
“Yes, I met all three children in London, then our oldest child said goodbye on Paddington station, whilst I drove our two youngest back to you as per the custody order.”
“Do you know where he lives?”
“I know where she lives,” Trevor corrected her.
“She?” Lucy squinted doubtfully.
“Yes, she; and you know she’s changed her name and gender as per the law, because both Beth and Johnny have told me that they’ve told you. So why do you persist in using male pronouns?”
“He’s a boy; born a boy so always a boy.”
“Biologically, yes; but it's what between her ears that makes her human. Keep on like that with the male pronouns and she’ll never reconcile with you.” Trevor advised her then continued. “If you expect her to ever associate with your new partner Terry, then that goes double. You can say goodbye to your child. Don’t forget now, she’s eighteen and a legal adult.”
“Aren’t you disappointed you’ll never have grandchildren by him?”
“I can correct you there,” Trevor smiled tightly, “before George transitioned he had his sperm frozen and his partner was fully agreeable. When the two are ready both mentally and financially, they’ll try for children.”
“What!” Lucy almost squealed.
“You heard. When they’re ready, they’ll have kids.”
“What sort of family will that be?”
“A family where a child is not knocked about by a bullying, transphobic step-father.”
“The boy needed some sort of parental guidance. He was like a mincing queer.” Lucy protested.
Trevor lowered his voice but a note of menacing censure conveyed his feelings perfectly.
“Listen Lucy! Dot showed me the hospital photographs and Georgie’s horrific injuries were days old when the police surgeon took them. Don’t talk to me of ‘parental guidance’. Terry is a vicious, homophobic bully. That’s why Dot was allowed to foster Georgie and I had unrestricted parental access returned to me.”
“Was she living here when Dot was fostering.”
“Yes.” Trevor replied briefly to avoid any more interrogation.
“So where is she now?”
“She attends college in London.” Trevor replied disingenuously.
“But it’s the college vacation. Are you saying she’s staying at college.”,
“Where she chooses to stay is something neither you, nor I, nor Dot has any control of; nor any right to know. As I said, Georgie is eighteen and an adult.”
Lucinda stalked angrily away for it was obvious Trevor was not going to say where their oldest child was. As she resumed her seat, she concluded angrily, that she might yet have lost her oldest child forever; then she caught herself thinking of her son George as ‘her child’, not ‘her son’ and she bit her lip thoughtfully.
“What did he want?” Terry asked Lucinda as she rejoined him at their table..
“He didn’t want anything; it was me wanting to know where my oldest is.”
“Did he tell you?”
“No. All he said was that if she was ready, she might contact me.”
“She?!”
“Yes Terry! Apparently she’s gone the whole nine yards, gender surgery, name change, the whole caboodle. She even registered at college in London; as a woman apparently.”
“Well good riddance to it I say. Just be grateful you’ve got two normal kids plus your adopted kids.”
“She’s still my kid Terry. I still want to meet her.”
“What? Curious are you? See what sort of freak he’s turned into?”
Lucinda’s eyes blazed angrily and Allison noticed her friend’s distress. Thoughtfully, she stood up, caught Lucy’s eye and motioned discreetly towards the loos.
“D’ you want to go back to ours?”
Lucy let out a sob as she stumbled into the lavatories then explained. “No I’ll not spoil the evening, I’ll stick it out to midnight, just let me touch up my slap.”
They emerged after long minutes as Lucy recomposed herself, then Allison returned to their table first. There she took it upon herself to take Terry to task just as he was about to ask what the hell was keeping his wife.
“Never mind what’s keeping her. Just stop harping on about Georgie. She’s stressed enough as it is. Just shut up! Okay!”
Terry pursed his lips pugnaciously before responding.
“She should just accept the fact that her son is some sort of queer or tranny and she’s going to have to cut the apron strings.”
“That doesn’t help at all Terry! George is still her son. A mother doesn’t just let go and wave goodbye forever; and besides, the apron strings are well and truly cut!”
“What! When the boy’s just a mincing, prancing queer attracting all sorts of unwarranted attention.”
“If you carry on like that Terry,” Alison warned, “you’re going to lose Lucy.”
“I doubt it,” Terry scoffed, “she’ knows she’s got it cushy at our house and I see the kids right for money and stuff. The others are all treated fairly, I make sure of that.”
“You didn’t treat George fairly.”
“Yes I did, he got the same allowances. He just wasted it on make-up, dresses and stuff.”
“If you were treating him fairly, why did he run away. Trevor tells me that you or that oaf of a son of yours, Peter beat him up.”
“Hey up, she’s coming back. Say nothing now, we just want to keep things calm.”
Allison glanced across the bar to see Lucy approaching. Behind her was one of the serving girls in a showgirl leotard and tights. As Lucy sat down the girl produced her tab with a flourish and looked up expectantly.
“Is it the same again?” She smiled.
“Yes please,” Fred confirmed as he glanced down at the girl’s feet. “Still in your heels I see. Well done girl; are you going to win?”
“I dunno,” she grinned, “it’s a toss-up between me and Blondie over there. The skinny bitch isn’t carrying so much fat.”
Both Fred and Terry exchanged appreciative grins as they watched the girl return to the bar whilst doing her utmost to hide the pain. Alison gave both men a thump on the arm as she scolded their licentiousness.
“Hey! You dirty old buggers. She’s only just stopped being jail-bait!”
Both husbands smirked guiltily at Alison as they returned to their drinks. She wagged her head with classic female despair.
‘Men never change!’ She mused.
A few hours later the party reached its New-Year crescendo and after the wild celebrations, Dot got a grip on the evening. Prizes were awarded for best outfits and the waitresses were awarded for their endurances upon the heels. Marty won the honours while Georgie came third. For Georgie, the biggest prize of the night was not being recognised by her mother and step-father as she stood on the drag-queens stage to receive her modest award. Her flamboyant, drag-queen make had perfectly disguised her face.
As the partygoers slowly and indeed reluctantly, started to make their ways home; Georgie and Marty paused from the bottle-collecting and flopped down onto the bar stools now vacant as the bar emptied. Marty sighed sympathetically for her partner Georgie as she rubbed her feet.
As they grinned at each other, Dot approached with a satisfied look.
“Did you have a good night girls?”
“My feet don’t think so,” Georgie grimaced as she fingered a blister on her toe, “but my head does. Can we leave the cleaning to the morning?”
Dot nodded ‘yes’ as Sam finished locking up and securing the pub for the night.
“Are we opening tomorrow?” Marty wondered.
“Yes but not until two o’ clock.” Dot grinned then added. “Most will be hung over anyways.”
Thus relieved of their duties, the pair carefully picked their ways upstairs and collapsed happily on the bed while sighing with relief for their sore feet. As their mutual pains subsided both girls savoured the moon shining on their bodies before tugging the double duvet around them and snuggling together, as calm descended on the riverside pub.
Their last delight was lying snuggled together on their tummies under the duvet whilst watching the moon reflecting off the river before setting behind the trees.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Happy New Year! Lazy bones. Rise and shine!” Dot exclaimed cheerfully through the heavy, ancient bedroom door..
“How does she bloody do it?” Marty groaned to Georgie as they stirred reluctantly under the duvet.”
“She’s a robot I tell you.” Georgie giggled as she reached for her robe.
“Come on!” Dot called again through the door, “part of the bargain was helping to clean.”
Marty released a long melodious yawn and swung her legs seductively out of her side of the bed as she made the fastest move to the loo. By now however, all inhibitions between the girls had evaporated and Marty didn’t even have time to flush the pan before Georgie followed immediately. They giggled as they shared a body shower without soaking their hair and were soon tumbling downstairs where Dot had already laid the breakfast table while Sam was cleaning the ashes in the huge inglenook fireplace.
“What time are the rest of the girls coming to open up?” Georgie asked Dot.
“They’re scheduled for twelve, the chef will be here as well, so if we can finish cleaning by then it means you’ll be full time waitressing the moment we open. More tables, more tips.”
Both girls exchanged grins over the rims of their coffee mugs, then they were soon stuck into cleaning.
“Thank God for stone slab floors and quarry tiles,” Marty observed as she sluiced the next pile of floor suds out through the door and onto the cobblestoned forecourt.
“Yeah, could you imagine if this was like the University union Bar, all carpeted and sticky.” Georgie agreed.
“Carpets are unhygienic where lots of booze is served.” Dot added as she stepped aside to let Georgie continue mopping.
Once all the floors were mopped, the four of them shared another cup of tea to let the floors dry before replacing all the tables and chairs. They finished just after twelve and as the catering staff arrived and started laying up the tables. Finally, Georgie and Marty restocked the lavatories then joined Sam bottling up behind the bar.
“So, are we waitressing or bar-keeping Georgie asked as the whole team assembled at two.
“One of you can be barmaid while the other joins the table girls,” Dot explained as Billy busied himself unlocking the main front door in the porch.
Georgie and Marty had Sam toss a coin for the Barmaid job and Marty won.
“It’ll be your first time behind the bar serving drinks,” Sam observed, “so if you’ve any problems like mixes or cocktails, don’t hesitate. It isn’t usually busy on New year’s afternoon; the rush comes tonight.”
Marty smiled her thanks for the help and immediately took station beside Sam while Georgie initially assisted with setting up the carvery before the restaurant filled up and she was needed as a waitress.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
In the tumult of the mid-afternoon, Georgie was returning a tray of empty wine glasses to the Bar where Marty was busy filling the glass-washer. Marty, naturally, was smiling at Georgie as she arranged the wine glasses by shape and style to speed up Marty’s loading the washer. As they exchanged amused grins Georgie suddenly noticed Marty’s grin fade quickly.
“What?” Georgie asked.
“They’re here.”
“Who?”
“Who d’ you think. Your stepdad.”
Georgie craned her neck to locate the front door in the bar room mirror behind the bottles then her own face drained in colour as she recognised her mother with her new partner Terry and their friends Allison and Fred.
“Fuck it! What shall I do?” She whispered hoarsely yet loudly enough to catch Sam’s attention.
Sam turned at the sound of Georgie’s urgent question and quickly grasped the situation. Quickly she offered her advice.
“Brazen it out girl. Billy’s here to stop any trouble. Just ignore them and avoid their table.”
“That’s tricky,” Georgie protested. I’m waitressing and bottling so I have to collect glasses as and when between serving.”
“I’ll swap with you if you want babe’s,” Marty offered. “You come behind the bar.”
Georgie exchanged a long nervous glance with Sam who stared intently before saying.
“Now’s the time to face the beast love. You’re surrounded by friends and Billy’s here.”
Georgie paused for some moments then growled to give herself courage.
“You’re right Sam. I’m gonna have to do it some time. Tell Dot.”
“Okay. I’ll let Billy know as well. Do you think Terry might get violent?” Sam asked as she stepped out from behind the bar.
Georgie shrugged and toyed nervously with the glasses until Dot emerged from the Kitchen.
“Are you up for this?” Dot asked softly.
“As good as I’ll ever be.” Georgie confessed. “D’ you think I should go up and take their order. They still don’t seem to have recognised me.”
“They’ve hardly sat down yet. Let your waitressing take it’s course and if you find yourself looking like serving their table, just tip the wink to Sam and Billy.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Dot and Sam 29
Dorothy Philpot. Landlady of The Harbour Light pub
Sam Philpot. Drag-queen and lifelong companion of Dot’s.
Billy Parkins Doorkeeper.
Jessica Merlot The town’ and county archaeologist.
Josephine MacDonald The town and county archivist.
Richard Drummond Town planning inspector
Robert Vincent. Junior planning inspector.
Georgina. (Georgie) Homeless Transgender girl previously known as George.
Bobby Gay boy on the school bus.
Marty Girl on the school bus. (She becomes Georgie’s best friend and lover)
Jack. Marty’s twin brother (Keen runner).
Trevor Aitkins, Georgie’s Biological father.
Lucinda Aitkins Georgie’s biological mother
Terence Georgie’s step-dad
Peter Terence’s homophobic son.
Allison. Old school friend of Trevor
Fred Allison’s husband
Elizabeth Aitkins (Beth) Georgie’s younger biological sister. Later proves to be sympathetic to her ‘sister’
Jonathon Aitkins (Johnny) Georgie’s younger biological brother.
Rosie the Rivetter Terf Gang Leader on campus.
At first, Georgie discreetly avoided working the side of the restaurant where Alison and Fred’s table stood. But, as the restaurant filled and became busier, it inevitably fell to Georgie to attend both sides of restaurant. She returned to the serving counter and chose a table order two places removed from Alison and Fred, then walked boldly down the aisle to serve the other table. To her relief, neither her mother Lucy, nor the detested boyfriend Terry recognised her as she walked past with the plated meals filling her arms, nor again when she delivered the vegetables nor a third time when she delivered the condiments and gravy. Georgie was gathering confidence with every walk-by.
By prior agreement, one of the other waitresses agreed to cover Alison’s table and soon, they were working the far end of the restaurant as the restaurant filled up.
As the diners started to finish their meals, Georgie was gathering confidence and had concluded that her feminine appearance was now completely masking George the boy of old. She took her turn at working the dirty dishes trolly and following the senior waiter around the room as she took orders for desserts. Finally she arrived at Alison’s table and tipped the wink to Billy and Dot who were standing by the cashier’s desk. Once Billy had acknowledged Georgie’s situation, Georgie started gathering the dirty dishes from the table.
At first everything went well, but as she reached to gather Lucy’s plate, Lucy let out a squawk of surprise then she grabbed hold of Georgie’s wrist even as she picked up the plate.
“Hey! Where did you get this ring?”
Georgie suddenly realised that Lucy had recognised her Paternal grandmother’s ring. With little time to think she told the truth and prepared for some sort of scene.
“It’s my grandmother’s. My father and sister gave it to me!”
“Who!? Where!? When?” She demanded as she stared perplexedly at the girl taking her plate.
Emboldened by the righteousness of her situation, Georgie replied in a similar, officious ‘one-word’ series.
“Trevor Aitkins, Elizabeth Aitkins, London, last December! Now will you let go of my arm please, or I might drop the plate!”
Even as Georgie looked full into Lucy’s gaze she saw the dawning in Lucy’s eyes.
“It’s George! Isn’t it!?”
“So?!” Georgie challenged her back and felt a wave of satisfaction stiffen her resolve as she took hold of Lucy’s grip and broke her wrist free without dropping the plate.
Lucy stood up and glared at the creature standing before her, then decided to out the freak.
“Look everybody, this was once my son! A transexual!”
Georgie was just relieved to discover that firstly she was not scared, and secondly she was not crying. She was about to curse her mother but Dot had already crossed the room to intervene.
“Is there anything wrong here?” She asked as she gently pressed her open fingers against Georgie’s arm.
“Yes! Yes! There’s plenty wrong here. This boy, this freak is wearing my mother-in-law’s wedding ring. He’s an imposter! He’s a bloody transvestite!”
“Excuse me miss, but if you look about you, you will see that just about every poster advertising the entertainment in this establishment is either for drag-shows or gay comedians. This is a gay pub and restaurant. What would you expect to find?”
By now, Terry had realised that Lucy was beginning to lose the argument so he stood up to support his wife.
“This place is a paedophile trap. There’s young people here amongst transvestites and gays. It’s wrong!”
“I would remind you sir,” Dot replied softly but with iron in her tone, “that everybody dining here is doing so in the full knowledge that this a well-known L.G.B.T., venue. Look around you at the publicity posters! I would further remind you that any minors dining here are accompanied by adults. Finally I would remind you that you are causing the disturbance; not my staff!”
“Are you threatening me?” Terry demanded as his fists tightened and he stepped back causing his chair to scrape noisily along the floor.
On hearing the familiar noise that so often presaged trouble, Billy moved swiftly but inconspicuously from the cashier’s desk to stand behind Dot. Georgie spotted his pantherine approach through the side of her eye and breathed a sigh of relief when Billy appeared as if by magic to loom imposingly behind Dot. Georgie had seen Billy and his crew work their door-keeping magic before outside the harbour light on previous, late-night occasions but Dot had never ever needed his ‘back-up’ before during the day-light restauranting hours.
Georgie wanted to curse her mother Lucy for bringing trouble to what Georgie had now come to regard as her sanctuary as well as her home and place of work. She wanted to spit in Terry’s eye but Dot had already read Georgie’s mood and was taking a firm hold on the situation.
“Carry on gathering dishes love, leave this to us.” She advised Georgie.
Reluctantly, Georgie turned the trolley around and started gathering plates from the next table. Her anger however betrayed her mood and the plates rattled in her trembling hands as she stacked them on the trolley. The lady customer at the next table spotted the angry tear leaking from Georgie’s eye and she gently patted Georgie’s wrist.
“Be strong love. Your boss is handling it beautifully.”
As Georgie recovered herself, the rattling cutlery fell silent and Georgie paused to hear Dot warn Terry in no uncertain terms.
“You will know the law sir as well as anybody else. It’s posted prominently as required by law. This is a licenced premises and I Dorothy Philpot am the licensee. If you don’t immediately sit down and stop your disturbance, I will require you to leave as per the law. If you persist, I can expel you forcefully and if necessary, call the police.”
Terry glared in Georgie’s direction but said nothing as Lucy, Alison and Fred hissed at him to sit down and be quiet. Georgie swallowed with relief, smiled her thanks to the sympathetic customer and resumed wheeling to the next finished table where she stacked dishes and cutlery with hardly a clink. It was her way of demonstrating to the kindly customers that she had recovered control.
When her trolley was full, she wheeled it to the kitchen then emerged to resume serving after dabbing the smudged makeup around her eye.
“Are you okay to carry on?” Dot asked.
Georgie nodded with a brief smile and continued for the rest of the afternoon to work around Alison’s table. Logistically, this had little to no effect on the service the Harbour Light provided, and by six P.M., the last of the restaurant clientele were leaving. After a brief ‘pep’ talk from Dot, Georgie flung herself on her bed and debated if she should offer to work the New-year’s-day evening shift.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Georgie dozed fitfully until nine P.M. then woke to find a smiling friendly face gazing down while gentle fingers prodded her exposed shoulder.
“Ungh, uuuh, oh it’s you!” Georgie grunted as she came to and sat up with a slow smile crossing her face.
Then she reached out with eager hands and invited Marty into her embrace.
“Dot’s told me what happened. Have you broken up with your mum for good?”
“Eeeah!” She sighed as she tried to collect her thoughts.
"Well. Have you?" Marty Pressed.
“Dunno’.” Georgie confessed. “I don’ think we’ll be talking much for a long time. She tried outing me this afternoon.”
“What! Here in ‘The Light? - A gay pub!” Marty giggled at the lunacy.
“Yeah. Stupid or what?”
“So what happened?”
“Not much actually. Dot warned my step-dad that he’d be thrown out and banned if he tried to make trouble.”
“And?”
“He backed down when he saw Billy towering behind Dot. Alison and Fred wrecked him because this is now their local pub and they didn’t want to be banned.”
“And your mother?”
“I think she forgot that it’s a gay pub because by day, the restaurant is more of a posh dining establishment than a gay nightclub. It was only when Dot pointed out the posters advertising Sam and the others that she realised her faux pas. I think she was trying to pull her horns in and extricate herself but that dumb bully Terry pushed his way in and made it worse.”
“Is your mother banned?”
“No but she’s on probation.”
“And the boyfriend?”
“He’s on probation too. I want Dot to ban him and it might yet come to that.”
“Right. Are you okay to work this evening? It’s getting busy down there.”
“Yeah. I’ll join you at ten, okay?”
“Okay, see you later.”
Georgie listened to Marty’s heels clumping down the stairs then she rolled over and rested her elbows on the wide low window-sill that enabled her to comfortably study the river while not leaving her bed. She soon got bored however and by ten thirty she was downstairs pitching into waitressing.
On seeing her arrive down-stairs, Marty gave Georgie a brief nod to indicate where her mother and friends were seated, and they quickly organised the work arrangements so that Georgie avoided the foursome seated prominently close to Sam’s steps leading down from the stage. This would ordinarily require Georgie to pass close to the table as she initially stepped into the floor area but Sam saw the situation and deftly lifted the counter-top with her toe thus allowing Georgie to duck behind the bar and pop up behind the till.
This move by Sam, made it abundantly obvious that the bar staff were enabling Georgie to avoid any confrontation and she chatted briefly with Dot about where she was wanted. Dot explained that she should serve behind the bar to avoid any potential contact between the tables and any feet deliberately extended into the aisles to trip her up.
“You’ll be in full view but with the bar between you and them, so your parents can’t pull any stupid stunts. Allison also tells me they will be going home tomorrow so you’ll be rid of them.”
Georgie gave a relieved smile and immediately set to reducing the queue building up at the bar.
For several hours, Georgie worked non-stop, efficiently serving individual customers at the bar while also filling the waitresses multiple table orders then calling them out for collection. This was a part of the job that Georgie enjoyed because Sam would sometimes make some outrageous comment about the order on the tray and the whole floor would erupt into laughter while Georgie had to hand the tray across the bar to the waitress. Sometimes Sam would openly steal a drink off the tray and instruct Georgie to replace it with a double but not before identifying the customer to check that he or she wasn’t driving.
“Don’t want you falling’ in the dock love; do we!” She’d say while checking what drink she’d just ‘stolen’.
Sam had a punchline for most ‘lady drinks and ‘shorts’ that usually raised a laugh.
During this session Georgie had little time to stop and chat for the work was constant, taking orders from the waitresses, making up orders, serving individual customers and generally keeping the bar operational by stocking shelves and washing glasses . Admittedly there were three of them behind the bar but nevertheless there was little time to look up or exchange niceties between orders. It was just go – go – go – all night.
It worked well if the trio of bar staff each did their individual parts while simultaneously serving drinks which was the communal work. Georgie’s individual task that night was filling the glass washer and restocking the glassware on the various racks. During a lull in the hustle when Sam had just finished a comedic turn, Georgie stood up from behind the bar where she had been stocking the glass washer. She just stood up without looking at the customer and asked;
“Yes love what’ll it be?” as she held out her hand for the ten-pound notes.
As she reached for the money and stood to look at the customer her mood darkened instantly as she recognised her detested step-father holding out the money.
The momentary shock sent ice into her veins and Georgie tensed as she composed herself. Terry just stood there but Georgie quickly realised he was hesitating. Two years behind a bar had taught Georgie an awful lot about body language. She quickly realised that Terry was actually nervous so, to normalise the situation and emphasise that she was too busy for any silly business, Georgie simply repeated her question.
“What’ ll it be?”
Terry’s stumbling with his words served further to tell Georgie he was at a loss. Georgie tutted and asked a third time.
“Tsk! I can’t stand here all night. What’s your order?”
“Oh! Uuhm; two bitters and two large white wines please.”
Georgie didn’t reply, she just span around to address the lights and quickly poured the wines. Then she filled the beer glasses and took the money as Terry took the wines to their table. When he returned for the beers, she handed him his change and he hesitated even as Georgie was turning to face the next customer. She glanced at him and paused suspiciously then asked.
“Is there a problem?”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Dot and Sam 30
Dorothy Philpot. Landlady of The Harbour Light pub
Sam Philpot. Drag-queen and lifelong companion of Dot’s.
Billy Parkins Doorkeeper.
Jessica Merlot The town’ and county archaeologist.
Josephine MacDonald The town and county archivist.
Richard Drummond Town planning inspector
Robert Vincent. Junior planning inspector.
Georgina. (Georgie) Homeless Transgender girl previously known as George.
Bobby Gay boy on the school bus.
Marty Girl on the school bus. (She becomes Georgie’s best friend and lover)
Jack. Marty’s twin brother (Keen runner).
Trevor Aitkins, Georgie’s Biological father.
Lucinda Aitkins Georgie’s biological mother
Terence Georgie’s step-dad
Peter Terence’s homophobic son.
Allison. Old school friend of Trevor & Retired Solicitor
Fred Allison’s husband
Elizabeth Aitkins (Beth) Georgie’s younger biological sister. Later proves to be sympathetic to her ‘sister’
Jonathon Aitkins (Johnny) Georgie’s younger biological brother.
Rosie the Rivetter Terf Gang Leader on campus.
Chapter 30
Terry could see he had but a second or two to hold Georgie’s attention before she addressed the next customer, so he quickly broached the subject even in front of the customer jostling his elbow while seeking next to get served.
“Your mother needs to speak to you!” He blurted out.
“No time! I’m busy.” Georgie responded curtly as she leaned over to take the next customer’s order.
“But she needs to speak to you!”
“Can’t you see I’m busy! I can’t talk now! Now sir what’re you having?” She asked the next customer.
“Dammit, she’s your mother!” Terry cursed.
The customer waiting to be served stepped forward and blocked Terry’s access to the bar.
“Look mate! You’ve got your order; the girl’s said she’s busy, now step a’ bloody - way!”
Terry turned to weigh up the young punter as though debating whether to drop him, as he was sure he could. Unfortunately one of Billy’s doormen team had already noticed the situation because Georgie had looked up, caught the doorman’s eye and tipped the wink.
As Terry stood debating his move, he felt a hand rest ever so lightly on his arm. It was Billy’s underling, but no less impressive a man than Billy.
“Sir. You’re blocking the bar, please take your drinks to your table.”
Terry had no option because the bar was becoming crowded and people had readily noticed the obstruction he was causing. Defeated, Terry turned and carefully threaded his way backwards through the crush to eventually emerge and turn again towards their table. A few more steps brought him to his seat but before he could sit, Lucy was asking him.
“What did he say?”
“He said he was too busy to speak.”
“Damn. I’ll have to catch him when he has his break.”
As Lucy cursed, Marty was passing by with tray full of drinks and heard the male pronoun referring to Georgie. She paused to advise the couple that she knew her companion had come to despise.
“She won’t be having a break until midnight and most probably she’ll take it in the living room behind tha bar,”
“But I must talk to him. We’re going back tomorrow. Can you get a message to him.” Lucy demanded as she followed Marty.
“I doubt very much if she’ll answer to ‘he.’ You’d best sort out your prejudices.” Marty explained as she was delivering the tray to a table two sections away.
Lucy pulled up short for she did not want her family business being discussed in front of strangers. Reluctantly and angrily, she stepped back to her own table and flopped down with frustration. Allison eyed her mood and asked.
“Well. Is she agreeable to meet you?”
“He’s being bloody awkward.” Lucy snapped’
“Meaning?” Allison pressed.
“He’s more or less telling me he won’t talk unless I call him a woman!”
“Surely that’s not too hard. Frankly, I think she passes for a woman very well.”
“Don’t tell me you’re on his side as well!”
“I’m on the side of what works. If he won’t meet you except as a woman, then you’re going to lose him if you refuse to recognise her.”
“This is bloody preposterous!” Lucy cursed again.
“Needs must,” Allison replied; “if you want to keep her or even stay in touch.”
“She should just forget him!” Terry opined.
“Shurr’up Terry. It’s not your kid!” Lucy scolded him.
“Wharr’ever ‘appens, he needn’t think he’s coming back to ours.”
“I think she’s already made that abundantly obvious,” Allison replied. “She’s got it pretty-well made here anyway. Her own bedroom, en-suite with all the trimmings from what I can see; an’ she’s got a car, or the use of one at least.”
“Yeah, but what are her prospects?” Terry demanded scornfully.
“Well unless Dot or Sam get pregnant, Dot has intimated to me that Georgie will inherit this place and you must admit, it’s a surefire going concern!”
“Yeah, but I’ll bet it’s a tied house.”
“Err, have you looked above the door Terry,” Allison continued. “It’s a free house and Dot is buying it with Sam. Don’t forget, they already adopted Georgie just before she turned seventeen. Georgie agreed to it in front of the judge and made herself an emancipated minor. It’s a bit complicated, But Georgie stands to legally inherit the pub if Dot and Sam agree.”
“If that’s the case, why’s she goin’ to college” Terry mocked.
Allison sighed but stayed silent, however Fred, who was usually a taciturn guy, intervened softly.
“Perhaps to reinforce her sense of self-worth Terry.”
Fred, who was noted for his quiet introspections, had hit a raw note. Allison often regretted not having said what Fred eventually said and all four sensed the note of censure in Fred’s calm, deep-voiced intervention.
In the ensuing silence, both women caught the innuendo in Fred’s remark and exchanged guilty glances but Terry just blathered on without garnering Fred’s insight.
“He’s not worth anything, he can’t even father kids now he’s cut his nuts off!” Terry almost crowed.
“You’re wrong again Terry,” Fred revealed, “you seem to forget that I drink here at the bar most nights; indeed I’m Dot and Sam’s most regular, - and informed customer. I also chat with young Georgie when the nights are quiet in here and I can assure you that the girl will be able to father children when the time comes; thanks to modern science and frozen sperm.”
The length of Fred’s remark alone, conveyed irritation and censure, for Fred spoke but briefly on most occasions. The sheer length of Fred’s reply was enough to give Terry pause for thought.
“What! You mean?” Terry gasped.
Fred just nodded sagely but his remark had already carried enough gravity to stop Terry’s invective dead.
For the rest of that evening Lucy and Terry felt compelled to remain seated while they watched Georgie exchanging laughs at the bar while perfectly complementing Sams drag performance and yet, serving drinks and cocktails with consummate, expertise.
When the foursome finally, and reluctantly ended their evening both husbands carefully helped their ‘high-heeled’ wives pick their way across the old dockside cobbles while the wives giggled drunkenly and applauded the evening’s entertainment.
“They do a good night there Allison,” Lucy opined, “you’ve picked a good place to retire.
“Aye; and they serve a good pint,” Terry added.
As Fred gently lowered Allison down onto some smooth tarmac on the service road between the old warehouse apartments and the new-builds, he uttered his next and last sagacious remark of the evening for Lucy’s benefit.
“If that kid of yours does as well at university as she did behind that bar tonight; she’ll go far. Mark my words!”
Reluctantly, though he was loath to admit it publicly, Terry was forced to admit privately, and strictly to himself, that Fred might be right.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The following morning, as Allison was organising breakfasts in their new ‘cottage’, Fred and Terry came down and settled at the breakfast bar. On seeing that Lucy had not yet appeared, Allison asked Terry.
“Is she having breakfast?”
“She’ll be down shortly; she’s doing her diary. She does it every day. Give her a few minutes.”
Allison knew that Lucy kept a diary so she joined them at the breakfast bar and they settled down to eating,
Eventually, as the men were finishing their coffees, Lucy emerged and poured herself some tea as she studied the weather through the window.
“Are you packed love?” Allison asked,
Lucy nodded and frowned at the rain lashing against the breakfast room window then she made some toast as Allison cleared away the men’s dishes.
“We’d best be leaving soon. The roads are prone to flooding up Gloucester way and it’s on the news.” Lucy observed.
“We’ll be going soon,” Terry declared, “I’ll collect the bags.”
As he went up to the bedroom, Lucy dipped into her handbag and produced a letter. She passed it to Allison while Fred looked on and then she asked Allison.
“Can you give this letter to Georgie.”
Allison took the sealed letter and smiled the faintest, almost invisible smile as she read the single word. - Georgie.
She looked Lucy full in the eye with a questioning glance before repeating the word inquisitorially.
“Georgie – not George? Am I to believe this might be an olive branch?”
Lucy nodded slightly before asking, “Will you give it to her please.”
“Okay. I’ll give it to her at lunch time, after you two have left. Are you expecting a reply?”
“I’ll just have to wait and see.” Lucy sighed. “I’ve let Terry get away with a bit too much.”
Allison gave Lucy a slight nod, sufficient to confirm her thoughts about the mess, but not a ringing endorsement. She had no intentions of endangering her friendship with her best friend.
At noon, long after Lucy and Terry had set off Gloucester, Allison and Fred picked their way across the basin dock gate and chose a seat in front of the inglenook fire where a small pile of burning logs gave off enough heat for an intimate grouping. The bar was pretty empty because the New year’s eve revellers were long gone and the times were returning to normal. Cold wet January afternoons did not encourage many visitors to drive out to ‘The Harbour Light’ when the restaurant was closed and only the pub bar was open.
As Allison and Fred settled comfortably in two of the wing-backed chairs set evenly in an arc around the huge fireplace, they intimated to Dot that they had a letter for Georgie. Dot stepped from behind the bar and took the letter from Allison’s extended hand.
“It’s from Lucy to Georgie, I don’t believe Terry has seen it.” Allison explained. “Indeed, I don’t think he’s meant to see it.”
Dot nodded and placed it prominently beside the bar cash-till where Georgie would see it when she came back from her walk with her father.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Brrr! Let’s get to that fire folks. It’s starting to freeze out there.” Trevor exclaimed as he shucked off his coat and stepped towards the inglenook fireplace.
Georgie followed while grinning and also shedding her shorty top-coat. She was just about to join her dad when Allison pointed out the letter propped against the bar cash-till. Georgie ginned her thanks and stepped towards the bar as Dot explained.
“It’s from your bio-mum love.”
Her grin faded as she took the letter and frowned as she debated opening it or throwing it on the fire. Allison recognised Georgie’s indecision so she added her information.
“Lucy wrote it while Terry was absent and she gave it to me without Terry’s knowledge. It might contain something constructive.”
“Huh! D’ you think so?” Georgie pursed her lips uncertainly.
Trevor caught his daughter’s eye and advised.
“It might be best if you open it in your room then we need not need to know whether you read it and keep it or throw it away. If you feel you might need advice well; there’s plenty here who’re prepared to help. Me included.”
Allison, Dot and Fred all nodded their support as Sam brought a tray of several hot, ‘glu-wines’ German style to supplement the fireside heat. Georgie stuffed the letter in the pocket of her thick winter cardigan and intimated she would read it upstairs later. The atmosphere around the fireplace was too convivial to avoid. With the conversation about the letter being put on the ‘back burner’ the conversation eventually turned to Georgie’s returning to college in London.
“Have the college been in touch about the issues with the Terfs,” Dot asked.
“All we’ve had is a couple of emails inviting Marty and me to meet with the Principal on the first Monday of term. Which is effectively the very first day of term, even before lectures.”
“Have they intimated who else might be present?” Allison asked.
“Not yet.” Georgie replied.
“Well find out.” Allison emphasised. “They might have some sort of ensnarement lined up and you might want some legal backup.”
“The police were on my side last term.” Georgie offered.
“That should help but you have no idea who this ‘Rosie the Rivetter’ is, or what sort of legal clout she might have. Prepare to be fighting bear.”
“Don’t you mean ‘Get loaded for Bear?” Georgie chuckled.
“This is no joke,” Allison warned. “If you need legal advice, I can point you to some good lawyers even though I’ve never been involved in Gender politics.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Dot and Sam 31
Dorothy Philpot. Landlady of The Harbour Light pub
Sam Philpot. Drag-queen and lifelong companion of Dot’s.
Billy Parkins Doorkeeper.
Jessica Merlot The town’ and county archaeologist.
Josephine MacDonald The town and county archivist.
Richard Drummond Town planning inspector
Robert Vincent. Junior planning inspector.
Georgina. (Georgie) Homeless Transgender girl previously known as George.
Bobby Gay boy on the school bus.
Marty Girl on the school bus. (She becomes Georgie’s best friend and lover)
Jack. Marty’s twin brother (Keen runner).
Trevor Aitkins, Georgie’s Biological father.
Lucinda Aitkins Georgie’s biological mother
Terence Georgie’s step-dad
Peter Terence’s homophobic son.
Allison. Old school friend of Trevor & Retired Solicitor
Fred Allison’s husband
Elizabeth Aitkins (Beth) Georgie’s younger biological sister. Later proves to be sympathetic to her ‘sister’
Jonathon Aitkins (Johnny) Georgie’s younger biological brother.
Rosie the Rivetter Terf Gang Leader on campus.
Dot and Sam 31
That evening Georgie debated opening her egg donor’s letter or just ripping it up and flushing it down the lavatory. She lay on her bed in the dark for nearly a quarter of an hour while the rain occasionally pitter-pattered against her window as the breeze gusted intermittently up the estuary. Undecided, she stuffed the letter under the clock on her bedside table then turned over and pulled the duvet tightly around her shoulders.
Eventually, sleep came to her, as it invariably does to healthy young people, and then the conundrum was out of her mind.
Like most January mornings in UK, the dawn arrived cold, damp and miserable. Georgie frowned as she contemplated the overladen sky. Then, being as the day held little promise of sunshine, Georgie settled back and decided to read the letter.
Dear George (or as you prefer, Georgie,)
I am finding it hard to reconcile your wish to be considered female but if it serves to maintain some sort of connection between us then, (as any good parent should) I will strive to do so when in your company; if I ever get to find myself there again. Both Elizabeth and Jonathon tell me that they have no problem accepting you as female and indeed they have warned me that if I persist in referring to you as a male, then I will most certainly will lose you and I might consequently yet lose both of them. This troubles me greatly.
Parents often make sacrifices for their children so please consider this as my sacrifice for you; I will endeavour to remain in touch by using female pronouns towards you and I will also endeavour to keep you and Terry apart. That is the best I can do. Be assured, I will certainly make occasional ‘pronoun mistakes’ when or if I ever meet with you again because old habits die hard.
There is little more I can add to this letter until or unless I hear from you, either through your father or via Beth or Johnny.
It only remains to say that I DO NOT want to lose touch with you.
Mummy
Xx
Georgie re-read the letter again and bit her lip as she wriggled back under the duvet to think long and hard. She was still thinking when Dot knocked on her bedroom door.
“Are you okay love?”
“Yes thanks mum; sort of.”
“Are you packed for Coll?”
“Mostly.”
“Don’t forget, it’s early tomorrow, you’ve got to pick up Marty first then up to London.”
Because Georgie did not respond again, Dot knocked softly again and cautiously peered round the bedroom door. She did it slowly to give Georgie time to stop her but on finding silence she moved to sit beside the lump under the duvet.
“Problems darling?”
“It’s the letter mum.”
“Go on love,” Dot encouraged.
“I don’t know if it’s a genuine olive branch or a trap to snare me.”
“Do you want my opinion?”
There was a longish silent pause before Georgie reluctantly agreed.
“Would you mum? Two heads and all that.”
As Dot agreed, Georgie’s head emerged and she poked the letter out of her cocoon of bedding. Dot took it and read it then a thoughtful silence ensued before both sides debated what to suggest. Finally Georgie spoke.
“I’m not sure if she’s playing some sort of emotional game or if she’s genuinely interested in reconciliation.”
Not sure how to proceed, Dot dodged the emotional bullet by suggesting Trevor look at the letter.
“I’m not sure dad would be much good. This is mother daughter stuff, lots of emotion and trust.”
“Ooh, I’m not sure that your dad’s all that hopeless. He strikes me as being very insightful and intuitive.”
“Don’t you think he tends to be too practical; you know; just shaking the nuts and bolts out of a situation and producing a sort of emotional blueprint to go forward. Girls don’t work like that. Well they’re not so clinical at least.”
Dot had a sudden epiphany as Georgie’s words so accurately described where men and women differed and she wagged her head in sympathy as Georgie looked up into Dot’s eyes. Dot looked down and realised that there was a genuinely female brain ticking away on Georgie’s pillow. At a loss to offer further advice she took a different tack.
“Well at least your dad doesn’t tend to ‘mansplain’ things so I think he will give you comfort and support at least; and possibly some direction as well. Shall we ask him tonight?”
“He didn’t offer any help last night.”
“He could see that you were utterly undecided and I think he had the wit not to overload you. You’ll have noticed that both Sam and I hung back as well. These sorts of things are always best after some sleep and your dad knows that as well as we girls do. Your dad’s a good man.”
Dot’s reassurances served to calm Georgie and she curled up into a tight foetal position with the duvet drawn tightly around her body as she smiled gratefully at Dot.
“Thanks, I’ll be down in a minute.”
“Okay darling, any preference for brunch?”
“Just coffee mum. I’ll save my hunger for dinner with you two and dad tonight.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Over the coffee and some toast that Sam had prepared despite Georgie’s singular request for ‘just coffee.’ Dot guided the conversation mostly towards the forthcoming spring term and the anticipated problems with the Terfs. Then Georgie contacted Marty to make sure they were both well prepared for the morrow.
“What time shall we come for you?” Georgie asked.
“I think the earlier the better.” Marty opined. “London’s gonna be chaotic with thousands of students heading for different colleges.”
Georgie agreed with her and that reinforced their decisions to make sure they were fully packed that evening. Then Georgie asked Marty.
“Would it be better if you stayed with me tonight and Dad collects you tonight? That will save you having to load the car in the morning.”
“I’ll check with my mum.” Marty replied and after some discussion, Marty’s mother, and indeed her father agreed to the arrangement.
Finally, Georgie phoned her dad to explain the new arrangements, then with the plans set, she went down and put in a short afternoon shift at the restaurant. When Trevor returned from work they wasted little time packing Georgie’s share of the luggage then drove to Marty’s home on the council estate across the town.
“Thanks again for the favour Mr Aitkin,” Marty’s father remarked as they busied themselves with all the luggage. “This takes a load of worry off Peggy my wife’s mind.”
“The Privilege is mine Mr Feldman. It’s good to know that our daughters are safe.”
Both fathers stepped back to look at their daughters both mutually hugging Marty’s mum Peggy’
“Modern times eh,” Trevor exchanged a chuckle with Mr Feldman.
“Aye, it’s been an eye opener for me but my Peggy is delighted that Marty want’s Georgie’s children and they can have them, proper as like; our own blood and all that. As you say though Mr Aitkin, modern times it certainly is.”
“With this profoundly mutual kinship, the fathers shook hands as their daughters clambered into the car and with joyful voices bid goodbye to Peggy and the Feldman children.
During the drive up to London all three travellers dwelled at length on the anticipated threat of the Terf community, both in their own college and on the academic scene in London as a whole. As both girls searched their laptops for all the material they could find, Trevor was finding it difficult to both drive and reassure the girls simultaneously that the threat was not as bad as it seemed. By the time they arrived at the college, the mood was somewhat subdued as the three of them unloaded the car then went to the Student’s Union refectory to eat before Trevor booked in at his hotel.
As they separated Trevor gave them his last bit of information.
“I’ll be in London until tomorrow night so if you feel you need help or advice I’ll be around. Otherwise, call this number. She’s a lady lawyer friend of mine who’s dealt with discrimination cases at length through the high courts. Hopefully, you won’t have to call her because she’s expensive!”
Both girls thanked him profusely and watched him pick his way into the Kensington traffic then disappear into the hurly burly of London’s streets. Next they returned to the Student’s Union and sought out any known friendly faces at the bar.
“There’s Gypsie,” Marty observed, “one of the girls from the theatrical dance troupe. Let’s see if she knows of anything happening tonight.”
“Hi Gypsie, how’s the wrist?” Marty asked.
“The Plaster comes off on Thursday but the pain’s pretty much gone.”
“Good,” Georgie commiserated. “Are you in with us to the Principal’s office tomorrow?”
“Try and bloody stop me,” Gypsie cursed.
“Good for you. Is there much on tonight?” Marty wondered.
“There’s nothing much organised by our student’s union but there’re a couple of clubs up West that’ll be open and there’s a dance at the City College.” Giypsie advised.
Georgie and Marty exchanged bored glances then settled briefly to chat with Gypsie before heading back to Hall. At first, they chatted about any mutually interesting events that the Dance troupe were investigating that term then they briefly discussed the muslim attack that both Gypsie and they had suffered the previous term; finally, they ran out of stuff to discuss. Marty was returning to the bar to buy their last drinks when several of the Terf community entered and gathered at their favourite spot by the bar cash tills.
Georgie eyed the Terfs up discreetly through her lowered eye lids and surreptitiously eased herself around to face away from them, however, Marty found herself having to pick her way past them as she stepped away from the bar with a tray of drinks. It was then that ‘Rosie the Rivetter’ recognised Marty.
Rosie chose her introduction carefully by asking solicitously if Marty had had any success in prosecuting their attackers. Keen to avoid being drawn into conversation Marty simply replied ‘Some.’ As she continued moving away.
Rosie however was looking for information or material for her group to make an issue of the attack and raise its profile on Campus. In truth Marty was alert to Rosie’s agenda and she was basically sympathetic to Rosie’s cause against the ethnic attacks. Ethnic attacks on Transgendered people were, however, every bit as offensive as Terf attacks on Transgendered people. So for trans girls the issue was a particularly ‘double-edged’ sword. Back at their table Georgie, Marty and Gypsie fell to chatting about the attack.
“Damned if we agree with Terfs and join them against religious nutters; - and damned it we condemn Terfs as transphobic thugs. It’s a no-win situation, Georgie protested to no-one in particular.”
“Yeah, but it also serves to protect us from both camps in the eyes of justice.” Marty opined.
“Trouble is,” Georgie added, “The college might well agree that we’re being discriminated against by both camps, but will they have the bottle to stand up for us or even stand side by side with us.”
“Maybe we’ll find out after the meeting with the Principal tomorrow.” Gypsie finished hopefully as she nodded with her head towards the halls of residence indicate that she was heading to bed.
Having mutually agreed almost by a form of cultural osmosis, the three rose in unison and paused at the doors of the Union Building to pick up anybody they recognised as vulnerable as themselves. Their delay was picked up on the new TV monitoring system and within minutes one of the security guards they recognised as a regular, appeared from the little office in the administration block. The little golf cart came whining around the corner with one girl already ensconced ‘shotgun’, so Georgie, Marty and Gypsie squeezed into the back to be deposited at the door of the residence hall.
As all four alighted, Georgie asked the driver-cum-security-guard about the idea of the golf carf.
“It’s good for lots of things as well as security. By day, the groundsmen use it for maintenance.” He explained as he sped off.
Glad to learn that some effort was being made by the college to improve safety, all four passengers stopped by the little kitchenette to share some chocolate before heading for bed.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Dot and Sam 32
Dorothy Philpot. Landlady of The Harbour Light pub
Sam Philpot. Drag-queen and lifelong companion of Dot’s.
Billy Parkins Doorkeeper.
Jessica Merlot The town’ and county archaeologist.
Josephine MacDonald The town and county archivist.
Richard Drummond Town planning inspector
Robert Vincent. Junior planning inspector.
Georgina. (Georgie) Homeless Transgender girl previously known as George.
Bobby Gay boy on the school bus.
Marty Girl on the school bus. (She becomes Georgie’s best friend and lover)
Jack. Marty’s twin brother (Keen runner).
Trevor Aitkins, Georgie’s Biological father.
Lucinda Aitkins Georgie’s biological mother
Terence Georgie’s step-dad
Peter Terence’s homophobic son.
Allison. Old school friend of Trevor & Retired Solicitor
Fred Allison’s husband
Elizabeth Aitkins (Beth) Georgie’s younger biological sister. Later proves to be sympathetic to her ‘sister’
Jonathon Aitkins (Johnny) Georgie’s younger biological brother.
Rosie the Rivetter Terf Gang Leader on campus.
Chapter 32
At ten o’ clock Georgie found herself outside the principal’s office knocking on the door. She heard the summons to enter and with righteous confidence, she entered just as the sonorous tones of the clock tower bell were fading across the last remaining decent expanse of lawn on the whole college campus. As she stepped towards the desk the principal turned from looking across the lawn to face her. When their gazes met, a flicker of a smile crossed his countenance and he motioned towards the chair that stood angled in front of his desk.
They sat down almost in synchrony and he moved to pick up a file off his desk, while Georgie set down her back-pack before straightening her chair slightly then settling into it at a sufficiently comfortable angle to connect directly face to face without having to twist her neck unduly. It enabled Georgie to lean back slightly with her right arm resting easily on the desk whilst her head could tilt forward as though demonstrating sincerity and interest, whilst in reality, Georgie was suppressing her anger.
“Good morning Mis Aitkin.”
“Good morning Principal Evans.”
“It’s about the attack you and your friends suffered at the end of last term just before Christmas.” He declared as he held up a letter that Georgie recognised as an exact copy of the one she had in her back-pack.
“Yes Principal Evans. What actions will the college be taking?”
“Well we’d like to discuss your feelings before we take any further actions.”
“And the feelings of my friends, what of theirs?”
“We’d like to discuss those with each victim independently.”
Georgie paused thoughtfully before asking.
“Why not collectively, is there some sort of intention to divide and rule?”
“It’s matter of compensations being offered by the Islamic Republic of Dhuran.”
“Compensations? I did not know there had been any discussion of compensation or compensations.”
“Well that’s the reason I’ve asked you to meet here this morning. To sort of get the ball rolling.”
“How would I do that, d’ you mean organising some sort of class action?”
The principal’s face paled slightly.
“No, no! No, nothing like that.”
“Well I’m afraid there is a mood on campus that supports such a move. Lots of students seem to feel that is what’s appropriate. I was told last night that there have been twenty-four reported incidents in different colleges around London, since the start of the Michaelmas term last September. I had no idea there had been that many but I’m sure you did.”
“Well; yes I did, but we are not sure how many of them are religious issues and how many others just sexual assaults. Some of them are difficult to separate as sexual assaults, religious assaults or hate crimes, or even all three. Not all the assaults were serious though.”
“Well, they’re all hate crimes as such if there’s some sort of gender or religious element to the attacks.” Georgie pressed, then added.
“If that’s the situation, I feel there should be some sort of co-ordinated endeavour by the student body and the faculty to see how to tackle this. There seemed to be a mood last night amongst the students that the most effective strategy would be a publicity campaign that exposes the natures of the attacks, the sources of the attacks and describe what definitive consequences have ensued.”
“That’s a bit like washing our dirty linen in public.” The Principal objected.
“You’re right, but the linen has to be cleaned, and it has to be seen to be clean.” Georgie countered. “Publicity is one of our most effective detergents.”
“It’s not that easy,” the principal tried to explain. “The Islamic Republic of Dhuran is investing large sums of money into greening the desert and a lot of the plant research is being conducted at this college. If the republic suspended the funds it could leave this college hung out to dry. We’ve taken their funds and invested them into the new botany block. It’s a very prestigious operation.”
Georgie fell silent as the old legal adage sprang to mind, -‘Money talks, justice walks’-
“Oh! Well that’s it then; by dint of financial pressure or blackmail, girls can continue to be attacked and molested while islamic mullahs can continue to preach their poison and press their hate. I suppose next you’ll be demanding that all girls must wear burkahs when outside their halls of residence.”
“That’s ridiculous Miss Aitkin.”
“Is it? Is it really? We’ve already got schools in Britain where sex education is proscribed by religious parent groups. Liberty and education is dying through death by a thousand cuts.”
“This conversation will get us nowhere Miss Aitkin, there’s little the college can do to change the political and religious situations in Foreign countries.”
“I’ll concede that, but there’s lots the colleges can do to repair the religious and political situations in THIS country.”
“How?”
“By confronting hate and misogyny wherever it rears its ugly head; not to mention bigotry and separation of males from females on campus; based on religion and scriptures.”
“Again I repeat how?”
“The first thing is to come down hard on any actions that put any students in fear of their safety or comfort, irrespective of religion or sex.
“The college is already committed to that.”
“Except when it threatens college funding.” I countered. “You’ve got to mean it or nothing will improve.”
The principal fell silent for he had little more to add. I suspected that he wanted me to make some irresponsible move that might compromise my academic placement so I raised a questioning eyebrow and asked if there was anything more.
He sighed slightly then shook his head.
“Not for the moment,” he conceded. “We’re going to have to tread carefully on this one.”
On that note I courteously made my excuses and left.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Back in my room I flopped onto the bed and ran through some options that floated through my brain. Then, after finding myself at a loss, I finally took some notes and headed for the library. I found Marty diligently going through some notes and when she saw me she nodded me over to her desk.
“Are you stuck?” I whispered.
“Not really,” she whispered back, “but I wish those buggers next door would keep it down. I can hardly concentrate.”
The new library block, (which had accounted for the loss of lawn space,) had been built with several subdivided spaces to hold discussion groups. The modern quality of construction whilst very new and ‘shiny’ had rather skimped on the internal divided spaces with a view to making internal alterations or replacement cheap and simple. Consequently, the ‘sound-proofing’ was not as good as it might have been.
Sadly, the concept of silent study spaces was foreign to some people and their discussions tended to be loud and confrontational. The Dhuranians it seemed, were amongst these peoples.
I listened through the wall but could not understand any of it.
“What are they talking?” I asked.
“It’s Arabic, I’ve learned that much at least." Marty lamented. "When the previous Mullah got suspended, they moved to the room next door and now they use that as a sort of Mosque cum social room. They chatter and argue and pray all the bloody time.”
“Mosque?” I asked.
“Yeah, their command - and - control centre I suppose,” Marty rolled her eyes. “It’s the same bloody ones arguing and shouting all the time.”
I Made a show of shrugging sympathetically to Marty as I explained.
“Well, I daren’t say anything or the Principal might use it against me. I’m glad I don’t have to work in here much.”
“You’re bloody lucky. They drive me bloody crazy with their arguing.”
“How d’ you know they’re arguing?”
“It can’t possibly be anything else. I half expect to see blood seeping under the door sometimes when I leave because of the noise. I’ve definitely encountered scuffles outside their door. It’s like a war and that’s amongst themselves. If I can, I give them a wide berth.”
On that note both Marty and I went down to eat, where we found yet more of the arguing as they ate their food..
“There’s no getting a-bloody-way from it!” Marty cursed softly. It’s since that new Mullah has arrived. He’s supposed to be a more moderate, academic sort of guy but to me, he foments more argument than cohesion.
Again I said nothing but I had a plan formulating in my mind. If I could somehow foment trouble between the Muslims and the Terfs I might gain some traction in my endeavours to make it safer for the LGBT’s on Campus. I only wished I understood what they were arguing about.
A couple of days later an idea came to me, I had been researching a translation of a German paper discussing gravity when one of those inevitable adverts popped up on my site. They were offering small portable conversational translators where you made your remark and the translator gave it to the other party in their native tongue. The translator translated the other guy’s remarks to you back in your native tongue; in my case English. Then the intercourse was retained on record.
“Gosh,” I mused. “That could do for me. I could just press the device against the wall and voila! Arabic to English.”
A week later the device appeared in the mail room and a note appeared in my mailbox in the main hall. I collected my mini-translator and immediately and returned to our empty room after the morning lecture while Marty was ensconced in the Library. The most attractive feature was the translator’s tiny size that enabled me to slip it into my bra with the video-microphone fitted into a phony broach on my top while a tiny hidden video-camera gave me a translation and a recording of the conversation. That evening, I was loaded for bear.
The Dhuranic student community was a peculiarly insular group who even tended to isolate themselves from fellow muslims. They tended to gather frequently where the bulk of the settees in the common room had been gathered into informal collections that suited chat groups. Fortunately, there were still occasional single or double tables remaining by the walls that enabled single or student pairs to study or chat in a less restrictive space were chatting was permitted. Often however, these student groups became loud as discussions led to ad-hoc debates. This was a perfect spot to eavesdrop on conversations whilst purporting to be writing notes or reading. It was also an excellent spot to make recordings.
Two days later, I met Marty leaving the Library in a foul mood.
“Whass ’up love?” I asked.
“I can’t bloody study in there. The god-botherer’s are at it again, in Arabic; next door, and the Librarian is too afraid to tell them to take it down a notch.
“Well our room is quiet love, I’ve got a bit of reading to do down here, then I will join you later in our room to help with any maths. So why don’t you grab the chance of some peace in our room before I come up?”
Marty jumped at the offer while I took my place in the main library where the interference from the room next door was loudest. It was a simple matter to put my books on the table against the wall to hide my microphone and record/translate all that was being shouted and argued.
‘Why do they get so agitated and loud/’ I wondered as I turned off my earphones and quietly enjoyed some un-interrupted study with my books while my mini translator recorded some of the conversations and also translated them for me.
Later, I went to the common rooms and ran the recorded translations back in my earphones while dozens of students passed me by without a second glance.
What I learned simply shocked me. The new Mullah could be easily identified simply by his strident voice and the deference accorded to him by the Dhuranic students. Mostly however, he spoke softly but my sensitive microphone could pick it up and identify it easily. By that first night alone, I gained a deep insight into the hate that was being spilled out and what was worse; the bullying being handed out to students who did not want any part of it. It was a perfect islamic version of the old-style Soviet ‘long-tails’ strategies underwritten by primitive religious underpinnings.
I was sickened by what I heard and debated taking my recordings straight to the college authorities but I had already learned that – when money talks, - justice walks.’ Having now got access to their machinations and plans, I decided to fight fire with guile.
From that day, I regularly chose to ‘study’ in the library and record my translations through the wall until I had enough information to subtly enlighten the Terfs as to what was afoot in the Dhuranic camp and more importantly what plans they had to resume their ‘islamic morality patrols’ or more accurately their ‘morality endeavours.’
Here, the islamic mullahs information network started to work against them. They had shown me in their arguments and recordings, that they had lots of information concerning assorted social events associated with any activity that could be deemed ‘un-islamic’ and these were the events they intended to Target. Naturally, these events were planned in colleges all over London and I soon learned of the events that the mullahs were targeting. They were mainly drag balls, fancy-dress and gay events.
“Oh sweet justice!” I told myself as my secret surveillance confirmed the main events and locations were ‘morality-protests’ were planned.
It remained only to advise organisers of assorted LGBT groups when one of their events was to be targeted by religious protests. Furthermore, my secret surveillance of the Mullahs, had thrown up the identities of several London groups who were beginning to take umbrage at the illegal and un-British imposition of religious ‘morality patrols’ and their moods were becoming more combative.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Dot and Sam 33
Dorothy Philpot. Landlady of The Harbour Light pub
Sam Philpot. Drag-queen and lifelong companion of Dot’s.
Billy Parkins Doorkeeper.
Jessica Merlot The town’ and county archaeologist.
Josephine MacDonald The town and county archivist.
Richard Drummond Town planning inspector
Robert Vincent. Junior planning inspector.
Georgina. (Georgie) Homeless Transgender girl previously known as George.
Bobby Gay boy on the school bus.
Marty Girl on the school bus. (She becomes Georgie’s best friend and lover)
Jack. Marty’s twin brother (Keen runner).
Trevor Aitkins, Georgie’s Biological father.
Lucinda Aitkins Georgie’s biological mother
Terence Georgie’s step-dad
Peter Terence’s homophobic son.
Allison. Old school friend of Trevor & Retired Solicitor
Fred Allison’s husband
Elizabeth Aitkins (Beth) Georgie’s younger biological sister. Later proves to be sympathetic to her ‘sister’
Jonathon Aitkins (Johnny) Georgie’s younger biological brother.
Rosie the Rivetter Terf Gang Leader on campus.
Chapter 33
As everybody knows, the internet is more than just a double-edged sword. In fact, it is a veritable Swiss army knife when used as a small ‘hand-weapon’ for low-key operations.
My first secretive moves were untraceable leaks distributed on slips of paper to various addresses around London where the mullahs believed their ‘enemies of allah’ lived. It was not difficult to get these addresses because the mullahs, in their arrogance, openly discussed these enemies and their locations during their ‘discussion-groups’ in the library annex next to the student’s common room.
A couple of weeks of careful electronic eves-dropping soon told me where the mullahs believed the organisers of these anti-islamic groups lived. It simply remained for me to visit their homes and slip untraceable scissored notes through their letterboxes detailing where the ‘morality patrols’ intended to stage their protests next.
Within a month of correlating the information in my notes concerning the ‘morality patrol events, my endeavours had led to several small conflicts around some low-key political marches. The anti-islamic gang leaders soon realised that the crudely assembled notes dropped through their letter-boxes contained valuable inside information about islamist morality patrols.
Naturally, the gangs started searching the internet for any pointers that might identify or locate their much-appreciated informant but nothing was forthcoming. I was hiding my tracks by staying OFF the internet and not revealing any of my activities to anybody; including Marty my erstwhile life partner.
If a secret is to remain a secret, then only ONE person should know of it!
Having established one very effective tendril of mischief-making, I lowered the temperature in that quarter then started to infiltrate the TERFS. This was easier because they conducted their affairs in English and their targets were always the same, the transgender events.
Before the easter vacation I was setting things up for a grand climactic protest involving TERFS, islamic patrol groups and anti-islamic gangs.
The most difficult part of my plan was determining what sort of event would most likely bring the Terfs, the anti-islamists and the morality patrols together simultaneously.
Here. I was initially stumped, for the most dangerous scenario could involve my trans siblings being attacked by Terfs and Islamic patrols simultaneously while anti-islamist gangs simultaneously attacked the morality patrols to protect the LGBT community’s British right to assemble and protest publicly.
The consequent ‘three-cornered’ conflict and subsequent public disorder could reduce any marching demonstration to chaos. A chaos that might eventually move the governments, the LGBT community, the Religious communities and the police to actually do something constructive about transphobia and its consequences.
Eventually, an opportunity presented itself to me. It appeared that the Dhuran government had become embroiled in some intense religious conflict over ‘water-rights’ associated with tribal land thefts connected to their endeavours to ‘green the desert. This had led to yet more violent clashes across the middle east and naturally the conflict had coalesced, as it almost invariably does, around religious polarisations between the tribes and the Dhuranian government.
As I kept track of the political fall-out I slowly began to recognise a way of setting islamic extremists against LGBT, against anti-islamic gangs who were protesting against any more muslim immigration or islamic bigotry affecting the UK.
After quietly studying the various aspects of the assorted issues concerning the aforementioned groups. I decided to wait awhile until the ‘protest season’ took off during the summer months. Meanwhile I would continue gathering information by my electronic eavesdropping or keeping my ear to the ground when within ear-shot of the TERFS.
Slowly during March and April I accumulated sufficient material to gain a good understanding of the motivations and ambitions of the various group’s leaders.
‘My god!’ I told myself as the situation made itself clearer, ‘Information is all!’
It seemed as if the various groups were almost doing my work for me as I found myself in April with three excellent opportunities to play all three sides against each other.
The first opportunity was presenting itself on the early May bank holiday when a protest march was being organised to support the Dhuranian tribesmen who were fighting to stop their tribal lands from being confiscated by the Dhuranian government to start greening the desert.
“For the life of me, I failed to see why these tribesmen should not want their lands to be greened and hopefully made fertile but there was also the issue of ownership of the land and any oil that might later be discovered at some later date. Dhuran was thought to be virtually floating on oil.
However, mine not to reason why, mine but to play it fly.
Paying great care to keep my endeavours secret, I arranged to distribute some leaflets amongst the anti-muslim gang leaders implying that some muslim morality organisers were objecting to having LGBT protesters attending the march and they were intent on stopping them at the very start of the march in Hyde Parke at speaker’s corner.
It wasn’t long before my electronic eves-dropping confirmed that the muslim Morality patrols were preparing to prevent the LGBT ‘satanists’ from joining the march. I also picked up a few Terf threads around our campus about the large transgender element who were supporting the march to show solidarity with the oppressed tribesmen.
“It only remained for me drop a few hints about the LGBT interest and the time of joining the protest, then I would just sit back in my room and watch the weekend news on that May 1st Saturday night.
Patience was a virtue I told myself as I left the pot to boil while not doing a single thing in the final weeks leading up to the demonstration.
For the remainder of March through to May, I kept a fairly low profile at college and I occupied my time by helping Marty with some of the maths coursework that she found difficult. She could grasp it, but some of the trickier maths needed explaining twice or sometimes thrice before she finally got the jist of the problem. The main benefit to me was that my constant attendance at Marty’s side gave me a perfect alibi if anybody came looking for the unknown organiser of the disorders that were occasionally breaking out during protest marches and demonstrations.
My activities were not discoverable because I was NOT organising the conflicts. I was simply providing information, and information was the ammunition these hate groups needed to indulge their endeavours. Soon, tit-for-tat fights were occurring at meetings all around the city.
Two weeks before the big Mayday demonstration there was a serious disturbance down the east end of London between Islamists and the ‘Defenders-of-the-realm’ gang that finally forced the police to come out publicly and reveal their suspicions. They believed that the fights were being organised by agent-provocateurs that were as yet unidentified.
During the Sunday lunch on the weekend of that Saturday night riot, the police paid visits to many college campuses and handed out leaflets expressing their suspicions while inviting anybody to express their own thoughts.
Marty and I were reading one of the leaflets when ‘Rosie the rivetter’ appeared looming over our shoulders.
“It seems these riots are being organised. Have you heard anything?” She asked us.
“Organised by whom, or what?” I asked feigning disinterest.
“The police believe there’s an organisation at play. I’ve just come from one of their briefings.”
“A what?! An organisation?” Marty pooh-hooed the idea. “There’s enough hate in those groups to kill the city. It doesn’t need much organising, just look at your mob.”
“Well that’s what the police believe. Their investigations point to a person or persons unknown, feeding information to the different groups. Sort of lighting the touch paper and standing back.”
“A person?!” I scoffed. “What? You mean like Macavity?!”
“No, they don’t think the IRA is involved.” Rosie replied as Marty nearly choked on the Terfs’ ignorance then explained to her.
“Macavity the cat you bloody idiot!” Marty snorted with amusement. “ You know; T.S. Eliot’s poem!! Jeeze, how did you ever get into Uni?” Marty asked no-one in particular as the groups nearest to us sniggered.
Rosie’s eyes blazed as she snapped.
“It’s not bloody funny, people are getting hurt!”
“Well don’t go out making trouble, then nobody’ll get hurt.” Marty riposted. It’s groups like yours that foment trouble and hurt people!”
“We’re only protecting women’s spaces.”
“Yeah, by attacking trans-people. Well just remember. What goes around, - comes around! The islamists are only protecting their beliefs, the defenders are only protecting their idea of English rights and traditions, and you Terfs are only protecting women’s lavatories and blah, blah, blah.”
Reading the room, I realised several of the college Terfs were beginning to get angry so I stood up and motioned to Marty.
“Let’s get some coffee love.”
As I said this, I glanced pointedly around the room then frowned concernedly and stepped towards the exit. I hadn’t said anything significant, but my actions said it all and some of the more observant Terfs had realised this. I was deliberately displaying the sort of fear that their activities precipitated; though in truth, I was more angry than afraid.
One of the Terfs who might have had some sense of guilt or conscience called to me as I stepped away.
“There’s no need to run away. We’re not likely to harm you.”
“No, not here perhaps, in parliament more likely.” I called back, leaving my remark to sink in.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I've always loved this poem.
Macavity by TS Eliot
Macavity’s a Mystery Cat: he’s called the Hidden Paw—
For he’s the master criminal who can defy the Law.
He’s the bafflement of Scotland Yard, the Flying Squad’s despair:
For when they reach the scene of crime—Macavity’s not there!
Macavity, Macavity, there’s no one like Macavity,
He’s broken every human law, he breaks the law of gravity.
His powers of levitation would make a fakir stare,
And when you reach the scene of crime—Macavity’s not there!
You may seek him in the basement, you may look up in the air—
But I tell you once and once again, Macavity’s not there!
Macavity’s a ginger cat, he’s very tall and thin;
You would know him if you saw him, for his eyes are sunken in.
His brow is deeply lined with thought, his head is highly domed;
His coat is dusty from neglect, his whiskers are uncombed.
He sways his head from side to side, with movements like a snake;
And when you think he’s half asleep, he’s always wide awake.
Macavity, Macavity, there’s no one like Macavity,
For he’s a fiend in feline shape, a monster of depravity.
You may meet him in a by-street, you may see him in the square—
But when a crime’s discovered, then Macavity’s not there!
He’s outwardly respectable. (They say he cheats at cards.)
And his pawprints are not found in any file of Scotland Yard’s.
And when the larder’s looted, or the jewel-case is rifled,
Or when the milk is missing, or another Peke’s been stifled,
Or the greenhouse glass is broken, and the trellis past repair—
Ay, there’s the wonder of the thing! Macavity’s not there!
And when the Foreign Office find a Treaty’s gone astray,
Or the Admiralty lose some plans and drawings by the way,
There may be a scrap of paper in the hall or on the stair—
But it’s useless to investigate—Macavity’s not there!
And when the loss has been disclosed, the Secret Service say:
‘It must have been Macavity!’—but he’s a mile away.
You’ll be sure to find him resting, or a-licking of his thumbs;
Or engaged in doing complicated long division sums.
Macavity, Macavity, there’s no one like Macavity,
There never was a Cat of such deceitfulness and suavity.
He always has an alibi, and one or two to spare:
At whatever time the deed took place—MACAVITY WASN’T THERE!
And they say that all the Cats whose wicked deeds are widely known
(I might mention Mungojerrie, I might mention Griddlebone)
Are nothing more than agents for the Cat who all the time
Just controls their operations: the Napoleon of Crime!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Dot and Sam 34
Dorothy Philpot. Landlady of The Harbour Light pub
Sam Philpot. Drag-queen and lifelong companion of Dot’s.
Billy Parkins Doorkeeper.
Jessica Merlot The town’ and county archaeologist.
Josephine MacDonald The town and county archivist.
Richard Drummond Town planning inspector
Robert Vincent. Junior planning inspector.
Georgina. (Georgie) Homeless Transgender girl previously known as George.
Bobby Gay boy on the school bus.
Marty Girl on the school bus. (She becomes Georgie’s best friend and lover)
Jack. Marty’s twin brother (Keen runner).
Trevor Aitkins, Georgie’s Biological father.
Lucinda Aitkins Georgie’s biological mother
Terence Georgie’s step-dad
Peter Terence’s homophobic son.
Allison. Old school friend of Trevor & Retired Solicitor
Fred Allison’s husband
Elizabeth Aitkins (Beth) Georgie’s younger biological sister. Later proves to be sympathetic to her ‘sister’
Jonathon Aitkins (Johnny) Georgie’s younger biological brother.
Rosie the Rivetter Terf Gang Leader on campus.
Chapter 34
Despite the cold afternoon, I suggested that we drank our coffees outside. Marty sniffed unappreciatively but followed me nevertheless and we chose one of the few garden seats remaining around the college lawn. Once seated she looked at me expectantly.
“So why out here, it’s cold?”
“I just want to get away from all that shit.”
“Nah, it’s more than that, what ‘you up to?”
“Nothing. What makes you ask?”
“You’ve never turned aside from an argument before, and your demeanour as you stalked out showed fear. You’re up to summat!”
“Do you believe what Rosie said; about some sort of agent-provocateur?” I asked Marty.
“What? Macavity and all that? It’s a bit far-fetched if you ask me.”
“I think we should go to the next police briefing, the schedules are posted on the notice-board in the union.”
“There’s one tonight in the City College’s student union.” Marty affirmed as she read the notice.
I checked the time and sucked my lip.
“We’ve got time if we leave now, it’s four ’ish.”
“I don’t suppose there’ll be much more info than what Rosie brought.”
“I’m going.” I announced. “D’ you wann’a come?”
“I’ve got time booked in the lab; I can’t cancel it.”
“Damn.” I cursed softly.
I had wanted Marty to accompany me just to provide an alibi; not for any specific reason, but it could prove I was not involved in any trouble-making if anything took off at the meeting. I knew the City College was a hotbed of contention because most of the Terf attacks and Morality patrols had taken place on or around the City campus. The City college specialised in arts and literary subjects not to mention law, whilst my college specialised in the STEM subjects. The atmosphere in the city college was pretty tense because the morality patrols. I wanted to get a feel for the mood amongst the college students.
Reluctantly, I crossed town alone on the tube and made my way to the main student’s union building where I was not surprised to find a considerable queue for the meeting. There were even a couple of lady police officers keeping a discreet eye on things.
Keeping myself to myself I joined the queue and when we entered the hall I chose a spot close to a group of middle eastern students who seemed quite agitated even before the meeting had started. There I switched on my translator device and eavesdropped their conversations through my ‘button-hole, video-broach.
It was difficult at times to discern what was being argued but one strand became clear. The muslim students were not prepared to have flamboyant, transgender students bringing ridicule and indecency to their protest march, even if they claimed to be supporting the dispossessed Durian farmers.
The truth was that many muslims from the middle east were innately homophobic and the idea that LGBT’s should sully their protest march was anathema to their beliefs. I decided to stick close to their group and record as much as I could without drawing any attention to myself. I just sat quietly listening and adding occasional pencilled notes to the back of my police flyer.
The meeting proper started with a speech by the Police superintendent referring to the leaflets they had distributed. Then the police asked for any observations or suggestions concerning the march. When one of the Dhuranian students asked the police to prevent any LGBT protesters from attending the march, the superintendent was compelled by law to tell the student that in England, LGBT people were fully entitled to attend and accompany the march and there was no legal way of preventing them.
I made a point of turning to listen to the Dhuranians as they started arguing loudly amongst themselves. However, my actions were not conspicuous because lots of other students had turned to watch the argument which was becoming heated. Very quickly, the organisers of the march had to call the meeting to order but the angry arguments carried on in hoarse whispers which I could discern quite clearly because I was close to the group.
Once some sort of order was recovered, the police made it known that any attacks against LGBT marchers would not be tolerated.
I smiled inwardly as I made sure I got some good close-ups of the obvious ringleaders amongst the religious bigots.
Eventually, the meeting closed and I was happy with the audio/video evidence I had gathered.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Once back home, Marty pumped me for information and I freely disclosed that the islamists had caused some friction in the hall about LGBT students joining the march.
“Why doesn’t that surprise me?” Marty answered as she closed her notes and packed her back-pack ready for tomorrow’s lectures.
“I’m tired” I replied as I yawned and sat on the bed to remove my jersey.
Marty took the hint so she made us each some hot chocolate and joined me as I sat up in bed. Not surprisingly, neither of us were up for fun so we soon dozed off in each other’s embrace.
Monday was a busy day in our lecture timetables so I had no time to act upon the information I had gathered at the Sunday meeting. There was no rush however because the march wasn’t scheduled until May and if I were to sow dissention between the warring hate groups it would be best to do it closer to the day of the march.
This delay would force the hate groups to act quickly at short notice and thus mistakes could be made that might afford the police some help in identifying the ring leaders. I decided to sit out the intervening days and weeks.
During these weeks, I was quietly pleased to learn that the objections by the islamists were becoming more vocal and strident. The temperature seemed to be rising without any input by me.
Halfway through April there was another islamist incident concerning a newly opened mosque in the East end of London. Some girls who had collected together for safety as they made their way home from some party or celebration, had encountered a group of muslims as they were leaving the new mosque after celebrating the inauguration of the mosque’s opening.
The girls loud singing and shrieks of laughter had apparently upset some of the more radical members of the congregation as they were coming out of the mosque and some of the girls were apparently assaulted.
This made headlines the following day and the following night, the mosque had suffered an attack. There was a lot of superficial damage to windows but fortunately no structural or serious damage occurred. Nevertheless, it was a clear warning from some unknown hate group to the muslims that they had better ‘pull their horns in’.
I decided that a couple of night’s studying at the Library might not go amiss and Bingo! Four days after the attack, I discovered a planned islamist attack aimed at a known English nationalist group whom the muslims were convinced had perpetrated the attack on the mosque;
This time, I decided to go a step further and assembled a letter from word cut-outs that were stuck to a piece of ‘A-four’ paper. The letter contained date, time and location of the planned attack. At the bottom of the page I glued a capital letter ‘M’ scissored from the banner title of a national newspaper
Then, using extreme care and surgical gloves to avoid DNA evidence, I typed the address onto an envelope and posted the anonymous letter to the police from a letterbox far from our home in the college. Then I waited for a result.
I was pleased when the police caught four islamist criminals late one night the following week outside an English nationalists home going equipped to commit arson. The police now realised that they had an unknown informer who was party to islamists secret planning. While the English Nationalist hate group mistakenly thought they might have some sort of ally within the muslim community.
When the police had made their previous arrest, there had been quite a commotion outside the racists’ home and they had quickly learned that the police had been alerted to the intended arson attack.
I secretly wished I had been a fly on several walls during that week; not least being a mosque down the east end and a hate-gang’s hideaway in North London.
On the Friday following the police arrest of the arsonists I happened to be passing the room next to the students common room where the Durians held their meetings. I glanced in as a small group of visiting students were filing into what was already a packed room. Inside there was much discussion and no little argument as there seemed to be something that was causing much dissent. Apparently, the arrested arsonists were four of the senior Durians amongst their prayer group.
I deemed it time to do a bit more eavesdropping.
As I sat a couple of spaces away from my favoured study table, I still managed to discern that the Durians had already mistakenly concluded that there was a spy amongst them and a witch hunt had already started.
‘Good!’ I concluded, ‘When an organisation starts to turn in on itself, the fallout can be very informative.’
My next and hopefully last endeavour would be to set the islamists against the TERFS. I had already concluded that the best time for this would be at the May bank holiday protest march supporting the Durian tribes who were about to lose their lands. The irony was that the tribes were not against the greening of the land for they were essentially farmers themselves. Their gripe was that they were being dispossessed of their title to the peninsular where the first experiments were being conducted.
I knew that the Durian hot-heads and several other islamist groups were against any sort of LGBT support attending the march and, during that week before the march was scheduled, my eavesdropping had already determined that the islamists intended to stop the LGBT contingent at the very beginning of the march starting at Speaker’s Corner in Hyde Park.
It was but a simple matter to inform the Nationalist ‘defence’ gangs of the time and location when the islamists would attempt their blocking of the LGBT contingent. To this end, I suggested in my ‘cut-out’ letter that the islamists were attacking ‘traditional British values’ to freely make protests and express their own opinions. Once again, I signed the letter with my big, ‘cut-out’ M.
This crude but effective argument convinced enough hate groups that the islamist ‘invaders’ were indeed attacking British values of freedom to gather and freedom to protest. It remained only to inform the police of a possible confrontation at the March and of course this ‘cut-out’ letter was also ‘signed’ with the hallmark big ‘M’
With these efforts completed by the following Thursday before the May-Day march, I concluded my job done and shut down my brief endeavour. It wouldn’t do to fall to temptation and continue laying a long trail of messages and evidence. That sort of conceit was what often ensnared criminals who considered themselves too clever to be caught.
If my efforts failed to produce sufficient disturbance to force the government to look again at transphobic developments on the streets and in the cultures of the UK, then I had to accept that I had failed. That weekend I booked myself and Marty a brief weekend break in Manchester’s gay village to give myself and my companion a solid alibi in the event of any serious disorder in London.
“I would have thought that you’d be manning the barricades at the protest march this weekend.” Marty opined that Friday morning.
“Naah.” I replied dismissively. “I reckon there’s gonna be trouble like there was with the other March, two weeks ago. This march’ ll be much bigger with more chance of trouble. I’ve seen enough shit already.”
“But these tribes need support. It’s not like you to avoid a protest for human rights.”
“Who are we supporting Babes? I asked Marty.
"You know who we're supporting." Marty riposted.
"Yeah. A gang of tribesmen who would execute us out of hand in their own country if we ‘came out’. That's a gang who could well attack us even in London, if we go on a march to support them.” I answered my own question.
“Naah! To hell with them I say. They’ve even attacked us here on our own campus. They hate us LGBT’s and they even hate themselves. I reckon I’m best out of it so I’m goin’ to Manchester.”
Marty pouted with disappointment before declaring.
“Well, I’m going on the March. If enough LGBT’s stick together, we’ll be able to protect ourselves.”
I had no definitive answer to Marty’s reasoning so I just shrugged my shoulders and slid into our bed. Marty finished packing her notes away then turned to look down at me.
"I just know you're up to something, but what?" She asked before adding. “I don’t understand you. You don’t usually back down from a fight.”
“I’m tired of it all darling, and besides, I reckon there might be serious trouble at this one. It looks like it’s gonna’ be huge and people could get seriously hurt. You’d best come to bed and have some fun, if you get hurt on the march, this might be your last night of enjoyment on earth.”
“Don’ be daft!” Marty riposted as she slid in beside me.
Dot and Sam 35
Dorothy Philpot. Landlady of The Harbour Light pub
Sam Philpot. Drag-queen and lifelong companion of Dot’s.
Billy Parkins Doorkeeper.
Jessica Merlot The town’ and county archaeologist.
Josephine MacDonald The town and county archivist.
Richard Drummond Town planning inspector
Robert Vincent. Junior planning inspector.
Georgina. (Georgie) Homeless Transgender girl previously known as George.
Bobby Gay boy on the school bus.
Marty Girl on the school bus. (She becomes Georgie’s best friend and lover)
Jack. Marty’s twin brother (Keen runner).
Trevor Aitkins, Georgie’s Biological father.
Lucinda Aitkins Georgie’s biological mother
Terence Georgie’s step-dad
Peter Terence’s homophobic son.
Allison. Old school friend of Trevor & Retired Solicitor
Fred Allison’s husband
Elizabeth Aitkins (Beth) Georgie’s younger biological sister. Later proves to be sympathetic to her ‘sister’
Jonathon Aitkins (Johnny) Georgie’s younger biological brother.
Rosie the Rivetter Terf Gang Leader on campus.
Dot and Sam 35
On the Friday evening, before the May-day march, Marty came home to find me packing my overnight bag.
“Are you serious about going to Manchester?” She asked.
“Yes,” I replied, “and I think you should come too.”
“D’you really think there’s going to be trouble?”
“I’m beginning to believe the police theory that there might be some sort of ‘Agent provocateur’ stirring up mischief. It’s not like the police to come out and say so unless they’ve got some sort of hard evidence.”
“What sort of trouble d’ you think it’ll be?”
“I dunno, but if it happens, there’ll be violence and possibly lots of it. It’s a big march by all accounts.”
“And do you seriously think it’s going to kick off?” Marty frowned.
“Bloody hell Marty! You’ve seen the troubles on the smaller marches, plus all that business with the attacks on the mosques. I’m pretty certain something’s going to happen. Just make sure you keep away from LGBT groups, or TERFS or any of those anti-islamic gangs, the Defenders-of-the-realm and such like.”
“That’s a big ask, they could be anywhere amongst the marchers.”
“They ARE the bloody marchers!” I snapped back angrily. “And that’s exactly why I’m not going! I don’t know who’s who, I don’t know when they’ll attack or where they might attack and I certainly don’t know how big the various groups will be. I tell you Marty, I’m staying away.”
“You’re over-reacting,” Marty scoffed.
I wagged my head resignedly and sighed. There seemed to be no way of getting through to Marty short of my ‘coming out’ to her about my activities. I put my foot down and declared resolutely/
“Well; I’m not going and that’s that! I’ve had beatings enough in my short life and I’m not looking for more. There are a lot of TERFS on the campus who know me by sight and I know for a fact that ‘Rosie-the Rivetter’ would like to settle her score with me since she discovered I was trans. It would be an ideal opportunity for her to set her dogs upon me in the anonymous mayhem of a TERF attack. I just don’t know and I don’t intend to find out!”
“Oh stop worrying girl and come to bed.”
Glad of an excuse to not talk about or contemplate the forthcoming march, I slid into bed beside my erstwhile companion. She could sense the tension in me so she reached across to rest her arm over my breasts. Then she hugged me to reassure me before asking.
“What time’s your train?” She whispered.
“I’m getting the eight o’ clock express nonstop and it’s costing me the earth. Now let me get some sleep.”
She loosened her arm and eased away from me slightly as though showing displeasure. Sensing this I tried explaining.
“I’m not angry that you’re going, I’m just worried.” I whispered. “Promise me you’ll stay alert and stay away from any obvious gangs or groups.”
Marty gave me one last hug then turned to face me again before whispering.
“I’ll be okay and I’ll keep away from any groups.”
“Thanks,” I replied, “I’ll be gone before you’re up, I’ve got to cross town before getting the train.”
So saying, I kissed her on the lips then snugged my head on her shoulder. She shuddered as my hair tickled her nipples, then we fell into restless sleeps.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Saturday dawned clear and bright, because a brief shower in the night had cleared the air. Fortunately, London now had a pretty clear atmosphere and I savoured the view from our narrow end window which gave me a narrow slice of sky to illuminate an equally narrow slice of the city to the east. I could just see an edge of one of the towers on the Tower Bridge and a sloping, shining sliver of ‘The Shard’ before it disappeared behind the chemistry block, but even that reflected the morning sun enough to brighten the narrow corridor enclosing me view.
Having no time to reflect on ‘Sights-more-fair’, I made a rare stab at some slap then finished my toast and coffee before setting off.
Marty was still asleep as I crept out with my overnight bag in hand.
At Euston I debated calling Marty but it was still only seven forty-five and it seemed a shame to disturb her. However my reservation was allayed when she phoned me as I was walking along the platform.
“Are you on the train yet?” She asked.
“Just boarding, why?”
“I’ve decided to come with you to Manchester, can you wait for me.”
“No I’ve just confirmed my booking with the train manager. However, I’ll make a reservation for you on the nine-fifteen, that’s the next flyer. We can meet in Piccadilly or Canal street.”
“Would that be first class as well?”
“Only if my dad agrees, he gets discounts cos he travels every week to Manchester, London or Liverpool.”
Once on the train, I made the necessary calls and blessed my dad for being so generous. Marty met me in Canal street and after confirming our hotel room, we spent the day doing Manchester.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
At lunch time, the news broke about rioting on the Durian Farmer’s March in London. The police, despite posting over a thousand police officers to monitor the parade, had been overwhelmed by the tactics even though they had been forewarned.
The first trouble had broken out, as I’d predicted, at Speaker’s Corner in Hyde Park. The police had been unable to ‘kettle’ the troublemakers because Hyde Park is a large open space with no enclosed areas or narrow streets to use for containment. Apparently over a hundred people had been injured, many of them LGBT, before the March could start. Fortunately, few of the injuries were serious because the LGBT attendees had quickly abandoned their support for the march as they were driven away by the muslim organisers..
As Marty and I shared a coffee at a street table in Canal Street, we watched a pub television through an open doorway.
The second major flareup occurred along Piccadilly as the ‘Defenders-of-the-realm’ firstly attached themselves to the march in dribs and drabs then made themselves known forcibly once they had sufficient strength.
This time the violence was much more intense and concentrated as the ‘Defenders of the Realm’ were a well organised gang and they had identified their victims pretty loosely as anybody who ‘looked like a muslim’ and waving a Durian flag. The gang gave all the appearances of having practiced their tactics and they were found to be wearing body armour under their outer clothes.
Hundreds were injured, many of them seriously!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
That late afternoon as the news reports exploded across all the channels, the nation was stunned by the images and reports. Marty sat open-mouthed in shock as images of spilt blood on pavements and blood splattered doorways where marchers had desperately tried to avoid the ‘defenders’ attacks, filled the television screens across the nation. Most shocking of all was the many images of blood stained and injured police struggling to contain the violence.
I sat tight-lipped throughout the extended news bulletins while occasionally re-ordering extra coffee as gasps and curses emanated from the LGBT people who had gathered in Canal Street to follow the news as the word spread nationwide.
Finally the national six o’clock news appeared as the familiar music caught everybody’s attention and the Canal Street café-goers fell silent. The familiar face of the senior BBC anchorman filled the screen with his concerned face as he paused before delivering the shocking statistics.
Altogether, over five hundred people had been injured and sixty had been hospitalised. Thirty of those in hospital were police. After the headlines had been bannered by the newscasters, a very senior police chief accompanied by the home secretary, appeared on screen while the remnants of the mayhem were still being cleared up behind them.
The police chiefs’ uniform even bore some blood stains and she sported a plaster over her eye where somebody had obviously targeted her. For the senior police officer to have been injured, pointed to control of the march having been lost at some juncture. The riot had stunned Parliament and several cabinet members were summoned to the house to lead an emergency debate.
Eventually, as the strains of the evening news broadcast faded, Marty turned to me.
“You were right.”
I nodded silently while remaining tight-lipped. Despite my feelings of guilt, I now felt forced to keep quiet. If Macavity’s identity was not to be revealed, it would have to remain known only to one. If the police discovered who Macavity was, they would throw the book at me. I silently thanked my lucky stars that I had seen sense enough not to ever talk or brag about it.
After the news-cast, we went to our hotel to change for a night of dancing and clubbing and we missed the ten o’clock late-night news.
Manchester, as everybody who is LGBT knows, is a fabulous city for transgendered people and Marty, being essentially a lesbian, had never been there. By the time we were ready for bed we had visited all the clubs and the sun was just peeping behind the buildings as we picked our footsore way home to our hotel.
“D’ you fancy an early breakfast?” I asked Marty as we keyed the hotel door.
“Will they be serving it yet?” She wondered.
“The splurge says they have an all-night restaurant. It’s a huge hotel.”
As we limped past the reception desk it was obvious to the receptionist that we had been savouring Manchester’s gay village and she smiled at us as she explained.
“Are you looking for breakfast?”
“Are they serving it?” I responded.
“It’s five o’ clock, yes, the servery will be opening now. Just go to the restaurant it’s opening now.”
We exchanged amused glances with each other before smiling at the receptionist. Our clubbing outfits were ridiculously scanty and we were revealing obscene amounts of flesh. She smiled at us and grinned.
“Don’t worry about your outfits girls, you should come up for the Transgender week in July, the Sparkle Weekend. Those skimpy leotards would really fit in. Believe me girls, despite this hotel having a high-class reputation we see some absolutely wild stuff during Sparkle. Go on in before the restaurant fills up.”
Buoyed up by the receptionist’s encouragement, we boldly entered the restaurant and the maître-de led us to a table then invited us to visit the breakfast buffet.
We looked at the table and realised he had placed us where everybody could see us and we could survey the whole restaurant. It was obvious that we were not expected to be wall-flowers.
To reassure us he explained. There’ll be a large party of your trans sister due down in fifteen minutes so you two won’t stick out like a sore thumb. I promise you; you’ll enjoy the company.
Thus forewarned we settled at our table first, then returned to the buffet to load our plates. Suddenly, as we chose our food, there was a commotion in the main foyer before a large group of Americans almost marched into the restaurant and took their designated places at a long, prearranged row of tables. Marty and I exchanged glances yet again and grinned self-consciously as the Americans began to notice us. We were, after all, the only other people eating, and it was still just after five in the morning.
Naturally, they stared at our skimpy clubbing costumes and started whispering amongst themselves as they made for the buffet. Marty and I just sat tight but eventually, we had to return to the buffet bar to collect the next course. The Americans were still queuing for their first course so we respectfully joined the back of the queue and held our tongues.
Inevitably, more of the Americans came behind us and invariably they were curious about us.
We explained that we had been clubbing all night and we were having breakfast before going to bed. When they found out were only eighteen they were shocked that we were ‘out dressed like that’ and drinking alcohol. (Marty had ordered a couple of drinks from the hotel bar and we were taking them up with us.) The bottles were sitting un-opened on our table.
We then explained that we were visiting the gay village and Marty then wound them up by further explaining she was lesbian whilst I was post-op trans. The gasps travelled down the breakfast queue like a hurricane blast. We then found out that the group were members of the Ohio state marching band alumni and most were somewhat fundamentalist in their views. They were shocked that the police had not hauled us in for indecent exposure.
We retaliated by declaring that England was a free country and we could dress as we liked. Then to add fuel to the fire, the other group of transgendered guests entered the restaurant and were immediately set to sit next to our table by the maître de. Once they were settled, they came over to the queue and discussed the previous evenings fun before stepping to the back of the queue.
Marty and I had never enjoyed ourselves so much as we explained to the American alumni just how free and open the gay village was.
A substantial number were so intrigued that they agreed to meet us in the early evening just to see what went on. They were destined to visit a national brass band competition during the day.
Finally, as the city traffic began show signs of life, Marty and I squeezed together to savour the luxury of a king-sized bed and crisp, new sheets
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Dot and Sam 36
Dorothy Philpot. Landlady of The Harbour Light pub
Sam Philpot. Drag-queen and lifelong companion of Dot’s.
Billy Parkins Doorkeeper.
Jessica Merlot The town’ and county archaeologist.
Josephine MacDonald The town and county archivist.
Richard Drummond Town planning inspector
Robert Vincent. Junior planning inspector.
Georgina. (Georgie) Homeless Transgender girl previously known as George.
Bobby Gay boy on the school bus.
Marty Girl on the school bus. (She becomes Georgie’s best friend and lover)
Jack. Marty’s twin brother (Keen runner).
Trevor Aitkins, Georgie’s Biological father.
Lucinda Aitkins Georgie’s biological mother
Terence Georgie’s step-dad
Peter Terence’s homophobic son.
Allison. Old school friend of Trevor & Retired Solicitor
Fred Allison’s husband
Elizabeth Aitkins (Beth) Georgie’s younger biological sister. Later proves to be sympathetic to her ‘sister’
Jonathon Aitkins (Johnny) Georgie’s younger biological brother.
Rosie the Rivetter Terf Gang Leader on campus.
Chapter 36
“Come on Rip van Winkle! It’s time to rise and shine.”
“Mmmph!” Marty protested from under the duvet.
“Cm’ on,” I protested to her, ”I didn’t come all the way to Manchester just to curl up under a posh duvet. It’s ten to eleven.”
“What’s that bloody awful noise?” Marty grumbled as she pulled the duvet tightly over her head.
“It’s Sunday morning and those are the church bells.” I reminded her.
“I thought we were in LGBT country around here.”
“We are but they’ve still got a few christians as well. I’m told even the vicar of this parish is either LGBT or a woman.”
There followed some more muffled grumblings from under the duvet and eventually a face appeared blinking in the light.
“Why are you getting up so early?” She croaked.
“What are you croaking for, you can’t possibly be hung over!”
“I’m not, I’m just tired. Let me sleep.”
“Okay then, you sleep your life away. I’m going down Canal street cos’ there’s quite a bit of socialising on a Sunday morning. If you get up, I’ll be sitting on the street tables by the canal. Probably opposite The Rembrant Bar where that lovely guy tried to pick you up last night.”
“Mmm,” Marty reflected, “he was quite dishy. If I weren’t gay I could have fancied him.”
“Yeah well he was probably bi, I saw him later, all over a young kid who was apparently too young to get in the bars. They were sitting in ’The Village Chippy’ by Napoleons,” on Bloom Street. The kid looked homeless. It’s not all gaiety and laughter.”
“Yeah, I noticed quite a few younger kids begging. The police kept trying to detain them. One of them looked only fourteen and a policewoman was talking to him, - or her!”
“Yeah,” I sympathised. “If they’ve run away from home at that age, there’s nowhere for them to go. Most of them are looking for a hot meal and a safe, warm bed.”
“Dot said you were like that when she found you.”
“Yeah, I was dead lucky and I landed on my feet with Dot. Lot’s don’t. Anyway, I’m having brunch in the hotel restaurant then I’m off down Canal street. Call me if you’re up and about later.”
By that time Marty was alert and she joined me for Brunch. We then spent the afternoon savouring the easy-going atmosphere of the gay village. It was there we spotted the news headlines and mayhem that had erupted on the Durian farmers march. There we learned that over six hundred people had received various levels of medical attention and over four hundred people had been arrested. Apparently, tens of thousands had attended.
“Are you glad now, that you didn’t go?” I toned seriously to Marty.
“It’s bad,” Marty replied, “I’ll try and phone 'Rosie the Rivetter'. She was with the TERFs and she’ll have some info.”
We took a table opposite the Rembrant bar and sipped coffee while Marty tried her dammedest to reach Rosie. She may not have been a friend; indeed I would have counted her amongst my enemies; but I would not have wanted her injured. She was, after all, living in the same halls of residence as Marty and me.
Truthfully though, I did not feel any concern or worry about Rosie. Perhaps Marty was more empathetic and humanitarian than me?
Having failed to reach Rosie, Marty resigned herself to waiting until we returned to college. We returned to our hotel feeling quite subdued and slumped dejectedly in the lounge. As we sat digesting the television news, both our phones rang as our parents confirmed we were okay and Marty’s dad rang me personally to thank me for keeping his precious daughter out of danger. I felt a wave of guilt when I reflected how close I might have come to endangering Marty.
Despite Marty’s dad’s gratitude, I still felt guilty, and I had no ‘father confessor’ to reveal my activities to. It was then I realised I would have to keep ‘Macavity’s’ identity a secret to my grave.
I seriously doubted that even my own father Trevor would have forgiven me for helping to precipitate such violence onto London’s streets.
It had all been so, so easy and frighteningly effective, that it caused me to shudder at how simple it was for populist demagogues to rabble rouse a nation to war if there was sufficient discontent in the population.
As these and many other thoughts were settling in my mind, our peace was disturbed by the American, Ohio State University Band Alumni returning from the 'Northern Festival of Brass'. As they tramped en-masse into the foyer, our previous acquaintances spotted us and enthusiastically inquired what time we were going out into Canal Street.
We explained that Sunday night was usually a relatively sober affair and there would be few, if any, of the exotic and provocative costumes that had made their appearances on the Saturday night.
How ever, this was a ‘Bank Holiday weekend and the Show Bar on Bloom Street usually had a drag night so they elected to go there because the customers often joined in the spirit and the exotic costumes sometimes spilled out onto the street if it wasn’t too cold or raining.
This particular weekend was of course May bank holiday and people did not have to face a Monday morning at work. The Show bar excelled itself and the Americans were impressed.
Napoleon’s Club also proved a good night out and the venue did not disappoint. So much so that the group who had attached themselves to us had returned to the hotel in good spirits and amidst some pretty intense debate.
As the group gathered in the all-night bar to rejoin their fellow visitors, the volume of debate and discussion rose steadily while Marty and I slinked off to bed again as dawn was breaking.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
On Monday we dressed in ‘respectable,’ every-day attire and spent the afternoon shopping before finally taking the early evening train back to London. We arrived at our halls of residence that night grateful to be back in our own bed and asleep as soon as our heads hit the pillow.
Tuesday plunged us straight back into academic endeavour and we did not learn of Rosie the Rivetter’s injuries until we ate our evening meal in the refectory at around six p.m. As we ate, several of Rosie’s henchmen came over and we both tensed in anticipation of trouble.
“Where were you on Saturday?”
“Manchester.” Marty responded.
“So you weren’t on the march?” She pressed curiously.
“As my friend just said, we were in Manchester. We heard the news though.”
“Have you heard about Rosie.”
“No.” I answered monosyllabically as we both looked up.
“What happened?” Marty asked almost disinterestedly.
“She’s badly injured. Some bastard fucking knifed her.” The Terf cursed.
“Did they catch the bastard?” I asked feigning further disinterest.
“Yes, somebody saw it and notified the police. They organised a snatch squad and dragged him out of the march. Rosie’s blood has been identified on his jebella. He’s a Syrian student attending the City University.”
“Good,” I shrugged and resumed spooning my pudding.
“She’s in Charing Cross hospital.” The TERF continued.
“Panic over then.” Marty added as she stood to go and collect two mugs of coffee.”
“We’re going to visit her tomorrow, during the Wednesday afternoon free time.”
Neither Marty nor I responded and the TERF became somewhat confrontational.
“Aren’t you coming she’s a classmate and she shares your stem classes.”
“She doesn’t share my interests nor my welfare. No thank you, I won’t be visiting her.” I replied forcefully.
“You do realise she almost died, She’s only just out of danger!”
“She put herself in danger cos she didn’t heed the police advice. The police warned everybody about their concerns.”
“That’s why we didn’t go on the march!” Marty shouted across the refectory as she heard the volume of our discussion increasing and anticipated yet another abusive interlude.
“Got it in one Marty!” I exclaimed loudly for the TERF’s benefit. “Everybody, including the police thought there might be trouble, and there was.”
I added the last sentence for general interest and as evidence of my views if perchance, the police did come a' hunting'.
The TERF glared at me as she searched for intellectual ammunition to condemn me but she found precious little. She tried a feeble argument to which I found no real cause to contest except to contradict her reasoning and accusation.
“So you’re saying you’re not prepared to stand up for people’s land rights and human rights.”
“Their quarrel is more religious than anything else. The Shias occupy the peninsular and the oil, while the Sunnis occupy the mainland and the artesian water. It's a religious war, not a resource war, and I’ve got no interests in any religious wars. They’re invariably intractable and dirty. A plague on all faiths is my view and I certainly don’t intend to get myself knifed or killed for some religious squabble. Now, if you’ll excuse us, we’re taking our coffees up to our rooms.”
Marty heard my words and turned about with coffees in hand to head for our rooms.
As we met by the main door to the refectory, Marty grinned.
“It’s useful being atheist, you avoid all the internecine religious squabbling.”
“Except when the fundamentalists come knocking.” I sighed.
“Where you serious about not going to see if Rosie’s okay?”
“I’ll check with the hospital and possibly slip in privately but I’ll not go in ‘mob-handed.’ It’ll probably be Thursday night or even Friday, when I visit, probably after things have calmed down a bit.”
“You’re softie at heart.” Marty opined.
“No, just a pragmatist. I’m not going to invite any more censure, there’s enough TERF transphobic shit around without stirring up anymore.”
Once in our room, we shared a shower then chatted at length about the protest march. Several of out LGBT friends stopped by but we saw nothing of any TERFS.
Wednesday also passed without incident. In the afternoon I joined my usual running group while Marty firstly did some extra maths and physics study in the Library, before going to the dance group in the gym. We met up again at six in the refectory.
As we sat down to eat beside some gay friends, we received some sullen stares from the TERF table but we were not approached. It seemed that the faculty warning about harassment or violence had been heeded, Or perhaps the lethal debacle at the protest march had given some hotheads pause for thought.
Better still, the mood at the gay tables had not altered as Marty and I had sat down. Apparently, somebody had just related some amusing anecdote about the march before we had arrived and others were still chuckling as we joined them. When Marty asked about the smiles, they explained it to both of us and it lightened our moods as well.
“Are you dancing down the Union tonight?” One of the regular troop asked.
Dance troop members almost always danced in the Students’ Union on a Wednesday night as an extension of the societal activities during the afternoon. It was there that we 'freshers' had met last year and joined the ‘theatrical’ wing of the society that put on shows for other student societies either for charity events or general fund raising.
“Yeah; we’ll be there,” Marty answered for both of us.
This cheered the Theatrical troop up because the larger numbers always encouraged the more self-conscious students to address their shyness by gaining anonymity within the crowd.
We left after dining and were confronted by one of ‘Rosie the Rivetters’ lieutenants outside our rooms.
“Rosie was hoping to see you.”
“Too bad.” I replied, “We couldn’t make it.”
“She wondered why you didn’t attend the march.”
“We heeded the police warnings. They couldn’t have made it any plainer.”
“So you’re saying you’re letting the bullies prevent you from exercising your rights to free speech and free assembly.”
“If you put it like that, I suppose you’re right. Trans people have never had many rights anyway, so we weren’t losing much. Nothing worth getting killed for; or stabbed for that matter. Anyway," I added ironically, "isn't it you TERFS who've attacked our rights to assemble or even to have a wee in peace?”
She fell silent as she realised the fatuousness of her words.
With that Marty reinforced my words by noisily operating our door lock and I followed her in as she closed the door firmly behind me. It was the clearest way for us both to express our feelings as we left the girl stuck outside in the corridor staring at a closed door. She had no option but to leave.
Once inside, we made preparations to go dancing later.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Dot and Sam 37
Dorothy Philpot. Landlady of The Harbour Light pub
Sam Philpot. Drag-queen and lifelong companion of Dot’s.
Billy Parkins Doorkeeper.
Jessica Merlot The town’ and county archaeologist.
Josephine MacDonald The town and county archivist.
Richard Drummond Town planning inspector
Robert Vincent. Junior planning inspector.
Georgina. (Georgie) Homeless Transgender girl previously known as George.
Bobby Gay boy on the school bus.
Marty Girl on the school bus. (She becomes Georgie’s best friend and lover)
Jack. Marty’s twin brother (Keen runner).
Trevor Aitkins, Georgie’s Biological father.
Lucinda Aitkins Georgie’s biological mother
Terence Georgie’s step-dad
Peter Terence’s homophobic son.
Allison. Old school friend of Trevor & Retired Solicitor
Fred Allison’s husband
Elizabeth Aitkins (Beth) Georgie’s younger biological sister. Later proves to be sympathetic to her ‘sister’
Jonathon Aitkins (Johnny) Georgie’s younger biological brother.
Rosie the Rivetter Terf Gang Leader on campus.
Chapter 37
In the student’s union we got several accusative glares but no questions or threats. We had made our reasons for not visiting Rosie the Rivetter quite clear and most of the LGBT society at least sympathised with our views even if they thought we were a little harsh not to at least pay a brief visit. Apparently most of our academic year had gone to see her but I secretly suspected that a lot of their supposed sympathy or concern, was just curiosity.
Even so, as we danced away, one of the Student’s Union officers stopped by as we paused at the bar.
“I’d have thought you might have used this incident to find a way to offer Rosie an olive branch,” he suggested.
I pulled a wry smirk as I countered.
“She’s had half the Spring term to make her peace but she’s chosen not to. I just keep my distance and avoid TERFs whenever I can. It’s easier and safer for me since the earlier incidents when I was outed. Besides, I’m not the aggressor.”
“She was seriously injured you know; her attacker’s being held on attempted murder charges.”
“I know what her injuries were. There’s even a notice describing them on the Union notice board. The police are still asking for witnesses. Do I have to remind you that I was in Manchester all day – Saturday and Sunday. It’s got nothing to do with me.”
“You do know she want’s to speak to you, don’t you?”
“Yes, I was told the moment I returned to Hall on Monday night. Her toadies couldn’t wait.”
“I still think you should agree to speak to her.”
I shook my head as I gave him my parting words and turned to walk back to my friends.
“She’s the leader of what amounts to a violent gang that have assaulted me once and abused me twice; not to mention my being harassed whenever they get the chance. That’s my last word.”
Marty watched me as I picked my way across the floor with two large classes of white wine. As I caught her eye I noticed her smile change to concern as her jaw sagged. Ever alert to assault, I looked about me only to see a determined member of Rosie’s gang making a bee-line towards me. She was one of the TERF heavies.
I was about to take avoiding action when a figure stepped past me and used his large male frame to block the TERF’s approach. The girl literally bounced off him and fell on her arse with a squawk of frustrated anger. The guy made a show of apology as he reached down to lift her to her feet while she was still gasping for breath.
I was left gaping in appreciative amazement as he ‘helped’ the TERF to a chair at a table far across the dance floor, far from our LGBT group. I watched him say something to the TERF then I resumed picking my way to the table. Moments later he came over to us as Marty’s eyes widened and I hastily placed our drinks down while not sure what to expect.
When he reached us he raised his open palms and indicated he was not bringing trouble. Then he spoke softly.
“I’m from the rugby club. We’ve heard about the troubles you guys have been having. It wont happen again or, if it does, they’ll have us to face.”
Marty and I were struck dumb as he turned to talk to one of the gays from our LGBT table. The gay boy offered our mutual thanks.
“Cheers Brian. I’ll buy you a drink in a minute. Does that mean these two have protection?”
Brian nodded and Marty lifted her glass as she declared.
“Seem’s like somebody has recognised our case, thanks Brian. I’ll see you right.”
As our new-found protector moved out of earshot I turned to Marty,
“I hope he doesn’t take that the wrong way.”
“He won’t,” the gay boy explained, “Brian’s bi, but mostly a bear. Look at the size of him, that TERF bounced off him like a ‘ping-pong’ ball.”
I smiled and shrugged slightly.
‘Takes all sorts,’ I told myself.
Later that evening I met Brian the rugby player at the bar as we were buying ‘last orders’.
“Thanks for your support earlier. You seem a bit old for a student.”
“I’m a mature student; late developer you might say.”
“Did you go to the protest march?” I asked.
“Nah. I took the police advice and stayed away. Plus I had an important match. My female friend took our son to watch me. I’m second row.”
“Your son?!” I asked curiously.
“Yeah she’s his mother and she’s gay. She and her partner each have a child by me. They live as a couple with the children and I live a couple of doors down in the same street. The kids stop by my house each afternoon on their way home from school, because their mums work.
Apart from lectures, I work from home and the kids always stop by after school.”
“Sounds like a good arrangement.” I observed. “How do the mothers view it?”
“It works, mostly as a platonic arrangement though one of the mothers very occasionally stops over at my house. She’s like me, mostly gay but with a bit of bi.”
“And they’re happy with that? The other girl I mean.”
“If they weren’t happy, it would stop. They control the arrangement.”
“And the kids?” I asked as I made sense of his words.
“They think they’re well off. There’s always one parent to help them or drive them places. Anyway,” he finished as he turned from the bar, “ here’s my mobile number if you ever need me. You know I and my rugby friends are here if you have trouble from the TERFS; and give my love to blondie.”
“Blondie? Oh, you mean Marty, my partner.”
“Yeah, the rugby-clubs’ pin-up girl. You’re a lucky girl.”
I could not be offended by Brian’s machismo envy so I gave him a sympathetic smile and we parted ways to our respective tables.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I decided to delay visiting Rosie until she was removed from the I.C., ward then I chose the Saturday evening. I had reasoned that most, if not all Rosie’s TERF friends would be out ‘Saturday-nighting’, but I was very much mistaken. It was much busier than I anticipated and I had to wait my turn. Apart from Rosie’s TERF friends, her parents and younger sister had also returned for a second visit from their Farm in Yorkshire.
I met them as we were queuing and on learning who they were I decided to forego my visit. However as I was leaving the hospital, one of Rosie’s lieutenants came running up to me calling my name.
“Georgie. Georgie! Please stop, Rosie want’s to speak to you.”
The fact that she was calling to me in such a public place convinced me she probably had no malicious intent so I paused cautiously beside the reception desk where the security staff were also stationed.
“What d’ you want?” I asked.
“Rosie’s asking for you.”
“Another time,” I replied, “it’s too busy up there right now.”
“But you’re here now, and we saw you waiting outside the ward. What changed your mind.”
“I was in two minds anyway then, when I saw the queue, I changed my mind. I’ll maybe drop by on Sunday night.”
“But they’re discharging her on Monday if everything goes well. It will be your last chance.”
I shrugged to convey my supposed uncertainty. The last thing I intended to do was let any TERFs know my intentions or future whereabouts while travelling alone. That was just inviting trouble.
“Well then," I shrugged. "I’ll possibly meet her in college. Give her my regards and tell her I called but it was too crowded.”
“But she’s got something important to say.”
“Well, I’m not even on speaking terms with TERFs, so she can’t possibly have anything important to say to me.”
“Look, please give her a break and come up to see her now.”
“I’m sorry. It’s late now and I have to cross town back to college. Tell her I’ll see her around.”
I wasn’t sure if it was disappointment or irritation I saw in the girl’s expression but it didn’t reassure me so I hailed a cab at the Taxi rank by the hospital main entrance. I still did not trust the TERFs and a Taxi could deliver me safely right up to the doors of Hall.
Once back in Hall, I caught up with Marty and we decided to slip away un-noticed to a gay club that made trans-people welcome. To my mild surprise, we bumped into Brian the rugby player and a couple of his gay rugby friends. He made a point of calling to us across the street and we decided to cross.
“Where are you two beauties going?” He asked.
“The Fallen Angel off Little Newport Street.” Marty confirmed.
“Oh that’s only a couple of doors from our Bear Bar. Shall we walk together.”
From our perspective, two pretty girls alone in Soho inevitably invited unwanted approaches, usually from unaccompanied ‘ethnics’ and it invariably necessitated tact coupled with determination to peel them off. Walking with Brian and his mates the few hundred yards from the tube to our clubs avoided what would otherwise have been an irritating gauntlet.
“Thanks Brian,” we offered as we stopped briefly to chat.
“You were getting some stares.” He observed as we grouped next to the end of the queue.
“Yeah,” Marty explained, “if we’d been alone, we’d have had a veritable queue of ethnic botherers trying to latch on to us.”
“That bad is it?” One of Brian’s gay rugby mates observed.
“Yeah. The trouble is, if we tell them go away cos’ we’re not interested, they accuse us of being racist. They somehow seem to think that any unaccompanied women are theirs to claim. That’s what their imams tell them.” Marty explained as I added.
“If you ask why they’re not out with their own girlfriends or women-folk, they say decent women should not be allowed out clubbing together or alone.”
“And?” Brian wondered. “What do you say?”
“We just tell them they cannot be decent, respectable men then, or they would be protecting their own women at home, instead of searching the streets for indecent women.”
The three of them chuckled and remained with us in the queue until we reached the front, then the three of them bid us cheerio after agreeing to share a taxi back to campus when we had finished clubbing. Fortunately, we were attending a gay club so we had little or no trouble once inside.
Inside the club, we savoured the luxury of not having to peel off the ‘clingers’. The vast majority of the men, being gay, were not interested and the lesbians usually studied the girls they fancied first before approaching them. It was usually some attempt to check out if the girl seemed to have a partner. If the girl was obviously ‘attached’ then usually, nothing was done and a regular pair could get on with dancing or chatting with any friends they happened to accompany.
It was just so-oo much easier in gay glubs where boundaries and sexualities were so much better respected. The only precaution one had to take was protecting one’s drink from vermin who liked to try and dose the drink then take advantage of their victim.
Like the vast majority in the club, we simply bought drinks in bottles and kept our thumbs over the tops until the drink was finished.
Towards two o’clock, Marty got a phone call from one of Brian’s friends advising that they were preparing to go home as they had a rugby game the following day. We accepted their offer of a shared taxi and returned back to Hall at three.
It had been a lovely Saturday night and we agreed to do it again with the boys on the clear understanding that we were lesbians and said no to boys. Being essentially gay or bi, they agreed.
I reflected that sometimes, college can be a liberating environment.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Dot and Sam 38
Dot and Sam 38
Dorothy Philpot. Landlady of The Harbour Light pub
Sam Philpot. Drag-queen and lifelong companion of Dot’s.
Billy Parkins Doorkeeper.
Jessica Merlot The town’ and county archaeologist.
Josephine MacDonald The town and county archivist.
Richard Drummond Town planning inspector
Robert Vincent. Junior planning inspector.
Georgina. (Georgie) Homeless Transgender girl previously known as George.
Bobby Gay boy on the school bus.
Marty Girl on the school bus. (She becomes Georgie’s best friend and lover)
Jack. Marty’s twin brother (Keen runner).
Trevor Aitkins, Georgie’s Biological father.
Lucinda Aitkins Georgie’s biological mother
Terence Georgie’s step-dad
Peter Terence’s homophobic son.
Allison. Old school friend of Trevor & Retired Solicitor
Fred Allison’s husband
Elizabeth Aitkins (Beth) Georgie’s younger biological sister. Later proves to be sympathetic to her ‘sister’
Jonathon Aitkins (Johnny) Georgie’s younger biological brother.
Rosie the Rivetter Terf Gang Leader on campus.
Chapter 38
After savouring our chance to enjoy a long, ‘Sunday lie-in’ we trudged into the refectory and took an early lunch. Marty had arranged to meet a student from her biology class and, because I was not taking biology, it left me at a loose end. I decided to chance my arm and check if I could slip in alone to visit Rosie the Rivetter when most students would be possibly eating Sunday lunch.
The college usually put on a good spread on Sundays and it was popular because it was cheap.
When I got to the hospital I was pleasantly surprised to see a group of TERF lieutenants just leaving the ward so I stepped aside and waited inconspicuously as they walked by. After checking with the ward sister I asked her if I could visit. She nodded yes, and I was much pleased to find Rosie alone.
She looked up somewhat concernedly and asked what I wanted.
“Your lieutenants have said you wanted to speak to me about something. Here I am and what is it you wanted.”
“You pick your moments.”
“Happen I do. Now nobody but thee and me will know what was said.”
“I heard you didn’t go on the march.” She remarked pointedly.
“So?”
“Did you know something everybody else didn’t?”
“No. I just listened to the police. They made it pretty obvious they thought there would be trouble; and there was.”
“Yes. The police advised us Terfs not to attend as well.”
“But you still chose to go.” I censured her.
I just spread my palms slightly as I spoke and I shrugged. So far, there was little she had said that concerned me.
“Have you heard that the police thought there was an agent provocateur?”
“Yeah, it’s all over the college by now; and the press. It’s hardly news is it?”
“Do you think there was?” She asked me.
“If the police think so, it’s quite possible. That’s why I didn’t go. Now before anybody else arrives, what was it you wanted to speak to me about?”
“I was thinking calling a truce.”
“I’ve not declared war, it’s you that started it; or some of your cronies.”
“You deceived us into thinking you were a woman.”
“When?”
“When we asked you to join us.”
“No I didn’t, I simply refused to join you.”
“But you didn’t tell us you were ‘trans’.”
“Why should I? I’m living as a woman and I present as a woman. Nobody has ever attacked me for that until I was outed in college.”
“We didn’t know.” She tried to appear apologetic but I wasn’t prepared to accept any apology.
“So the moment I was accidentally ‘outed’ you came after me. One of your cronies even assaulted me or tried to.”
“Well, it’s sort of water under the bridge now. There’s bigger issues with women’s rights what with the Durian protests.”
“Not my problem.” I countered, “Transphobia’s my problem and I’m still owed an apology for that assault. I’ll overlook that though because I never found out who it was but from now on, if you stay away from me, I’ll stay away from you.”
“Is it to be like that then. Don’t you see these Durian students as a threat?”
“To women and LGBT, yes.”
“So you should be supporting us against those people who are trying to stop us attending their marches.”
“I don’t follow your reasoning Rosie. My friend’s friend might well be my friend but my enemy’s enemy is not necessarily my enemy. And anyway Rosie, I don’t count you as a friend and I never will. Your very reason de-etre is to destroy trans-people or at least to make their lives as difficult as possible.
As I say, let’s just keep each other at arm’s length.”
She glared at me but I heard the lift doors operating and that meant more visitors to the wing. They may, or may-not have been Rosie’s visitors, but I chose not to find out. I left the ward and quickly took the stairs to avoid meeting the visitors.
Knowing that Marty was busy, I decided to take the tube then walk around Hyde Park until I was drawn to the crowds on Speakers corner. All the usual suspects were there and I smiled inwardly to myself. As I half listened to arguments being shouted and megaphoned into each other’s faces. ‘-My god’s better than your god-‘ ‘-Mine is the true god; blah, blah, blah!-‘
Most of the arguments were somewhat ‘old hat’ and I just strolled by the groups unless I heard something original about some issue I was not au-fait with. Eventually I settled my butt against some of the waist-high railings as some guy’s protestations caught my attention.
He was going on about God or Allah, I initially could not discern which, but he seemed to have some good counter arguments when the hecklers tried to pour scorn on his arguments. Of course, all his arguments were based upon the premise that there actually was a god but this concept was -water-off-a-duck’s-back, to me.
Inevitably, as happened so often nowadays, the arguments became overheated then some zealot or ‘believer’ took umbrage and tried to assault the orator for bringing ridicule to ‘the faith’. Having sensed the fight coming, I naturally took out my phone and prepared to video the action as things started to take off.
At this juncture, one of the two police-women who had been monitoring speaker’s corner saw me stepping well away from the group as things became more heated. Suddenly as she was watching me step back to climb upon a park seat by the railings, there was a shout from the arguing group and a violent scuffle erupted.
Then the almost inevitable knife appeared in the ‘believers’ hand as he swung his arm. As if by magic, the speakers’ ‘protecters’ were quick to act and the attack was stifled before it really got started, The speaker was dragged off his rostrum and his reference books got scattered but the knife only just sliced across his back and shoulder as the zealot swung his blade clumsily in the crowded semicircle
His immediate attempt to stab the speaker had been interrupted but he was still struggling with the knife in his hand.
Amidst shouts and curses, the zealot was immediately set upon and the ever-present police-women were forced to intervene as a couple of the speakers’ heavies dropped the zealot to the floor and were preparing to do some real mischief with the now confiscated weapon. Immediately the melee began to spread, for after the troubles on the May-day parade, tempers were frayed and anger was high.
Fortunately by then, I had finally managed to step away from the scuffle and stand on one of the few remaining seats with my mobile phone recording the fight as best I could. By now I spotted two more knives and I did my best to track them as blood started to flow. Then next, a knife, which I thought might be the original zealots’ weapon, came flying out of the crowd and dropped into some bushes behind one of the large black litter bins beside my park seat.
I could not follow the trajectory with my mobile phone camera but as it struck a small tree then landed at the base of the tree-trunk, I had it in clear sight. I clambered over the back of the seat I had been standing on then surreptitiously scrapped some leaves over the blood-stained, gleaming blade with my foot. I looked around as casually as I could then stepped across the bushy ground towards the main road and took station by a bus-stop where I had a good view of the buried knife’s location.
Eventually the police restored order and one of them spotted me casually looking at the scene from my bus-stop. It was obvious that the police were now seeking witnesses and I told myself, -
‘Georgie, now’s your time to shine.’
I remained standing by the bus-stop and watched a sergeant organising his men to find witnesses. As the police officers broke up one of the original policewomen who had been monitoring the area noticed me just standing and watching. She recognised me and immediately stepped around the railed shrubbery and approached me as I continued watching her.
“You were there! I saw you! You must have seen something: you can’t deny it.”
“I haven’t denied it. I have seen something; quite a bit in fact.”
“Don’t go away, we’ll need you as a witness.”
“Do I look as though I’m going away?” I countered.
She looked at me and frowned.
“Have you got something material to add?”
“Very much so, if you’ll give me the chance.”
As I spoke, I made to return towards the seat I had been standing on but she stopped me.
“You can’t go back there, it’s a crime scene.”
“I know that.” I answered softly, “but I know where that bastard’s knife landed. When it was thrown out of the crowd, it went past my shoulder and I watched it land.”
Her expression immediately changed and she motioned to me to follow her. When we reached the police cordon she introduced me to the inspector who had now organised the search. The young policewoman wasted no time in preliminaries.
“This woman claims to know where the weapon is.” She advised the inspector as she turned to me. “Show us please.”
I stepped towards the seat I had previously been standing on then pointed to where I had climbed over the back of the seat and jumped down off the waist-high railings.
“Those two deep footprints are where I landed when I jumped off the back of the seat and landed in the soil. When the knife went past my shoulder if bounced off the trunk of that small tree and landed under that decorative shrub. I did not disturb the knife but I kicked some loose leaves over the knife to cover it so nobody could immediately find it and hide it. You should find the knife under those leaves.”
By the time I had finished explaining, one of the younger officers had already clambered over the railings and, at the inspectors instruction, started carefully picking the loose leaves away with a long-handled litter claw.
Within seconds the gleaming blade was bared to view and cameras caught the images before the knife was carefully gathered. I noted that they also took photos of my footprints and my shoes.
“We’ll need your shoes I’m afraid miss.”
“Oh for god’s sake!” I protested. “Are you for real?”
“F’raid’ so miss. You’re a material witness. You can sit in the police van until we can get you some suitable footwear.”
“You’ll need more than that. I suppose you’ll need my camera as well.”
“What!” The inspector gasped.
“I Got a video of the whole attack from where I was standing on the seat. There might even be an image of the knife being thrown out of the crowd though I have not had a chance to look at the video yet. I didn’t notice it while I was videoing but with your forensic stuff, it might well show up on my video.”
His eyes widened with appreciation and he immediately organised for me and the policewoman who had been monitoring speaker’s corner, to be taken down to the police forensic laboratories.
As I picked my bare footed way painfully towards the police car the policewoman and I exchanged grins.
“Is this how you treat all your witnesses?” I asked
“There’ll be tea and cake for afters,” she riposted with a smile.
“Crikey! No expense spared,” I grinned. “Will I have to buy new shoes?”
She smiled and wagged her head then went straight into the interview room after explaining it was to be videoed. Then she turned to me again.
“I Watched you stepping back from the group as their arguments got more heated and especially before the trouble broke out. Any particular reason why?”
“Past experiences.” I replied. “Speaker’s corner is not what it was. You can’t seem to have a good ol’e, stand up, knock about argument since the religious stuff stared getting worse. Now it’s all knives and watch-your-back!’ I don’t get too involved. I don’t suppose I’ll be going there much longer.”
“It’s a pity to hear somebody saying that” she replied as we collected the coffee and sticky buns.
I shrugged and debated ‘coming out’ to her for it was obvious she was reading me as a woman. As I contemplated the idea, I concluded that they might well find out if they ran a national insurance check and discovered my details were not complete. According to the lawyers, all transgender transition details were supposed to be confidential, but I did not believe that. As I sucked on the bun I chanced my arm.
“There is another reason I don’t mix it much.”
Her eyes widened as I knew they would.
“Oh! D’ you want to tell.”
“It’s not a biggie; just that I’m post-op trans.”
“And that matters d’ you think?” She pressed.
I stared somewhat askance at her.
“You saw what happened on that March last Saturday, it was all over the news;
-TERFs attacking, trans,
-‘defenders’ attacking TERFs.
-ethnics attacking TERFs,
-ethnics attacking gays,
-defenders attacking ethnics,
-and just about everybody attacking your lot- the police.
It was pandemonium.”
“Where you there?”
“Not bloody likely, I’ve seen and felt enough to stay well out of it.”
“Are you a student in London?”
“Yeah, I’ll give you all the guff during the interview.”
With this, we both stood up and she led me to an interview room where an inspector was just finishing an interview with one of the assailants.
“This lady’s got some pretty useful stuff boss,” She declared after the assailant had left, then she added.
“She’s the one I saw standing on the seat by the shrubbery.”
“Oh, come in. I’m told you’ve got some video.”
I glanced at the policewoman.
“New travels fast eh.”
“Good news does. Have you got your phone?”
I took it out and advised both officers.
“I’ve already downloaded it to my ‘puter but nobody else has seen it yet, The ’puter’s locked.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” the inspector replied. “Can you please keep it that way. It’ll protect your identity as well.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Dot and Sam 39
Dorothy Philpot. Landlady of The Harbour Light pub
Sam Philpot. Drag-queen and lifelong companion of Dot’s.
Billy Parkins Doorkeeper.
Jessica Merlot The town’ and county archaeologist.
Josephine MacDonald The town and county archivist.
Richard Drummond Town planning inspector
Robert Vincent. Junior planning inspector.
Georgina. (Georgie) Homeless Transgender girl previously known as George.
Bobby Gay boy on the school bus.
Marty Girl on the school bus. (She becomes Georgie’s best friend and lover)
Jack. Marty’s twin brother (Keen runner).
Trevor Aitkins, Georgie’s Biological father.
Lucinda Aitkins Georgie’s biological mother
Terence Georgie’s step-dad
Peter Terence’s homophobic son.
Allison. Old school friend of Trevor & Retired Solicitor
Fred Allison’s husband
Elizabeth Aitkins (Beth) Georgie’s younger biological sister. Later proves to be sympathetic to her ‘sister’.
Jonathon Aitkins (Johnny) Georgie’s younger biological brother.
Rosie the Rivetter Terf Gang Leader on campus.
Chapter 39
Eventually I was invited into the interview room and sat opposite the policewoman and the inspector.
At their request I opened my phone, and they downloaded the images to their computers with a bigger screen. Then as I described what I’d seen and more importantly, remembered; they took my phone-chip and returned halfway through the interview. I was describing how I had scrapped the leaves with my foot to hide the knife where it had fallen.
“So why didn’t you just hand the knife to one of the police?” The inspector asked.
I scoffed and riposted.
“Have you seen the pandemonium that was kicking off? There wasn’t a copper in sight who wasn’t struggling to grab or hold somebody. People trying to get away, people pitching in with fists, people just watching. I was nearly knocked off my perch twice.”
“But you saw the knife land - amidst the shrubs.”
“Not exactly. I did not see the knife passing my shoulder but when it struck the tree just behind me, I heard it clatter as it hit the tree then, when I turned to follow the sound, I saw the shining blade lying under the bush. It was pure chance; I had a grandstand view from standing on the park seat. When I clambered down off the seat, I saw that the blade had blood on it, so I decided that I wasn’t going to compromise myself with fingerprints and stuff; so, I covered it with leaves.”
As the inspector thumbed my phone, he selected a page a couple of days old then looked at me.
“What’s this about Macavity?”
“I just grinned and let go a chuckle.”
“Oooh that? That’s Macavity the cat, you know; in the poem by TS Eliot.”
“Go on,” he eyed me suspiciously.
“Well, I heard some of the TERFs going on about it when I came home from Manchester. They were quoting stuff from the poem and when I heard them, I looked it up. I never got around to deleting it.
It’s funny if you remember that the police were talking about a ‘Mister Big.’ You know that Agent Provocateur thing before the Saturday Protest March. Did you ever catch anybody?”
The inspector wagged his head and shrugged dismissively, whereby I got the impression they weren’t attaching much weight to the idea. He dropped the subject and continued asking me for any more details.
“Did you see who threw the knife away?” He asked.
“No, but my phone might have something. I think, by that time, the original guy was on the ground under the bodyguards. So, it must have been somebody else who picked it up and threw it in my direction.”
The inspector nodded sagaciously as he opined.
“That might have been an accomplice. It’s a good job you covered the knife; go on.”
I continued telling everything I could recall until finally, they wrapped up the interview. As we left the interview room, I asked again half-jokingly.
“So, what about my extra cream cake and the shoes. I’m still bare-foot you know.”
The inspector glanced down under the table, shook his head in amusement, and instructed the policewoman to take me shopping. She grinned as they collected some ‘crime-scene’ slippers before she took me to ‘New Look’ in a police car. By early evening I was wearing new trainers on the tube going back to University Hall
Naturally, Marty was ears agog when she learned I had seen the scuffles, and, more importantly, the fight. It had made the national news because of all the troubles on the protest march the previous Saturday.
“What were you doing there? I thought you were sick and tired of all that.” She asked.
“I didn’t go there intentionally. I was walking through the park, clearing my head, when I noticed the people on speaker’s corner. It was idle curiosity that drew me to the speaker’s area and even then, I was just listening to various speakers.”
“And I suppose you just happened to be there when it all took off.” Marty scoffed disbelievingly.
“Yes! That’s exactly how it was.” I protested. “I had no intentions of getting involved and I didn’t until the knife thing.”
“Oh yeah. Tell that to the Marines!”
I shrugged my shoulders and gave up trying to convince her as we made our way to the refectory.
As we stood in the queue Marty wanted to talk more about what I’d seen but I ‘shushed’ her.
“Not here Marty.” I whispered. “If people hear that I witnessed the attack, it might get back to the attacker or his mates and they might come looking.”
She understood my concerns and fell silent as we chose our food from the buffet. Then we chose our table and spoke of other things after I had promised Marty I’d tell her when we were back in our room. Later as we cwtched on our bed I told her about the attack and the police interview.
“That inspector’s right,” Marty opined, “you really ought to keep your identity secret.”
“Well bear that in mind,” I cautioned her, “and let’s not speak of it again.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
To give Marty credit, we never spoke of it again and even when I got a court summons to appear as a witness, she agreed not to mention it to anybody.
She did, however, sit in the public gallery when I was called.
Fortunately, the police and the court allowed me to remain anonymous. Mainly because my main evidence had appeared on their blown-up images of the knife flying past my shoulder and clattering against the tree. The fact that I had also videoed my foot scooping the leaves together over the knife had convinced the judge that I already had concerns about my anonymity even as I covered the knife.
I had to explain my actions and my concerns but the fact that I had pre-empted my concerns by hiding the knife under the leaves, had been enough to convince the judge that my fears were real. As far as the police were concerned, the image of the knife being thrown from the scuffle by an arm and sleeve that had been subsequently recognised on my brief video image, was satisfaction enough for them.
I was released by the judge earlier than I had anticipated and warned not to discuss the evidence even as she thanked me. I stepped down from the witness box to the police cells under the courts. They then gave me a lift to a place of my choice to maintain my anonymity and I eventually met up again with Marty for a cup of coffee.
“They treated you with kid gloves don’t you think?” Marty observed.
“It was an attempted murder case Babes, the guy who blocked the attacker was stabbed in the chest and nearly died. I didn’t know about that bit until the prosecuting counsel told me. That and the political connotations made it quite serious. The attacker just got cuts to his back and shoulder.”
“So, it truly is ‘Mum’s the word’.” Marty observed.
“You’d berra’ believe it!” I cautioned her. “The last thing I want is a gang of religious nutters going after me. It’s bad enough that the TERFs are still sniffing for my blood.”
“So, d’ you think the TERFs are still out to get you?” Marty asked.
I shrugged.
“I think Rosie the Rivetter has called it a day but who knows. There could still be others out there. As I said, anonymity is my best friend,”
We finished our coffee and took the tube back to the National Science Museum because there was an exhibition I hoped to catch before the museum closed.
That evening we deliberately loitered around the Student’s Union Bar listening to whatever gossip we could gather, but it seemed the interest was more centred on the attack and the religious ramifications from the protest march. Neither Marty nor I heard any mention of the arrest and that calmed our fears. Sleep came easier than I had anticipated that night.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
For the remainder of that term, we were preoccupied with exams, and we hardly stepped off campus as we rotated between libraries, examination halls, refectories, and bed.
Finally, the summer holidays arrived, and we slipped easily into our usual routines of working at ‘The Harbour Light,’ waitressing, bar-tending and doing various other jobs around the tidal basin. Eventually as the summer holiday peak waned, Marty and I treated ourselves to a month just touring Spain and Portugal, mainly for Marty to improve her Spanish.
It was a pure relief to be able to stop wherever we wished and spend a day or two in some pretty Spanish village or town and savour the whole easy-going atmosphere of Spanish Siestas while poking into pretty little churches or exploring narrow cobbled streets.
By the time the Michaelmas term had come around, we were ready to re-enter the academic fray.
This time Dot and Sam accompanied us to London because they wanted to visit a catering exhibition at the Earl’s Court Exhibition centre. Sam, and I attached ourselves to their party out of pure curiosity but I had already decided that full-time land-lording and catering were not the way I wanted to go.
However, it was my hope to find a job in the area and live in the Harbour Light using it as my home. If this meant helping out at the pub regularly, I was sure Dot, Sam and I could reach a workable arrangement. Marty was also hoping to find a situation in the same area, and she was hopeful of landing a job teaching Physics or other sciences in her old high school.
Science teachers were hard to find in the present climate, and schools all over Britain were always advertising vacancies as science graduates moved on to more lucrative jobs. Marty and I had worked it out if we hired in a manager for the normal regular running of the pub and I simply kept an eye on the books and stock-keeping; then we could make a decent living.
With these thoughts in our minds, we buckled down to our final year and graduated with satisfactory grades. There were some proud parents who attended our graduation ceremony on that Tuesday morning and even happier ones when we enjoyed a celebratory dinner before bidding our final farewell to our Alma Mater.
Wednesday found us driving home in Convoy with my parents Dot, Sam and Trevor hauling the bulk of our luggage while Marty and I travelled with her parents to arrive at ‘The Harbour Light’ for lunch on the Wednesday. By evening, Marty and her parents had returned to their own home to see her siblings and settle in her belongings that were not needed at the pub. During the summer vacation Marty alternated between our shared bed at the pub and her old childhood bed at home.
After the summer we agreed to take a ‘gap year’ and see where our adventures took us. Europe, Auz, and Canada being our favoured destinations. With this decided, we found ourselves on the ferry to The Hook-of-Holland and whence to Amsterdam where we indulged ourselves for a week before finding temporary work for a few months.
Marty, (ever the one with a nose for a bargain,) managed to find a tiny apartment on Stoofsteeg in Amsterdam Centrum where the previous tenants had done a runner and left the place as a wreck. The owner had been at her wits end trying to get the place repaired but, it being the summer season, labour was hard to come by. Marty had met up with a gay guy who was looking for somewhere to live and by chance he happened to be a builder, plasterer and plumber.
She wangled a deal from the owner that if we three repaired and fixed the apartment we could live rent free while fixing it then stay at a reduced rate until we were ready to move on. The gay guy proved true to his word, and he put in some solid work to repair the place while Marty and I put up the money for materials and helped to decorate.
Amsterdam proved to be an excellent location for touring north Europe and we spent a solid six months taking trains to lots of historic cities.
Thus far, our gap year proved delightful.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Dot and Sam 40
Dorothy Philpot. Landlady of The Harbour Light pub
Sam Philpot. Drag-queen and lifelong companion of Dot’s.
Billy Parkins Doorkeeper.
Jessica Merlot The town’ and county archaeologist.
Josephine MacDonald The town and county archivist.
Richard Drummond Town planning inspector
Robert Vincent. Junior planning inspector.
Georgina. (Georgie) Homeless Transgender girl previously known as George.
Bobby Gay boy on the school bus.
Marty Girl on the school bus. (She becomes Georgie’s best friend and lover)
Jack. Marty’s twin brother (Keen runner).
Trevor Aitkins, Georgie’s Biological father.
Lucinda Aitkins Georgie’s biological mother
Terence Georgie’s step-dad
Peter Terence’s homophobic son.
Allison. Old school friend of Trevor & Retired Solicitor
Fred Allison’s husband
Elizabeth Aitkins (Beth) Georgie’s younger biological sister. Later proves to be sympathetic to her ‘sister.’
Jonathon Aitkins (Johnny) Georgie’s younger biological brother.
Rosie the Rivetter Terf Gang Leader on campus.
Chapter 40
After five months into our ‘Gap year’ Marty and I were sat outside the bar cum café where we worked in Amsterdam, watching the ice starting to frost the edges of the Amsterdam canals. As Marty pulled her coat about her, she took a sip of her coffee and looked towards the leaden sky.
“I think this swallow needs to be heading for warmer climes.”
“Like where?” I replied.
“Dunno’ Aus or Kiwi.”
“You’ll have to be giving Freda a month’s notice or get Harald our flat mate, to exchange some of his gay friends.”
“Harald’s always got somebody who’s looking for space. I’ll speak with him tonight when he finishes work.”
That night we chewed over the options and decided on a possible three months stay in Aus, followed by three months in Kiwi. After a chat with Harald, and negotiating our lease with Freda, we found ourselves southbound in three weeks after working out our notices at the Amsterdam bar where we had found casual work.
Visas for Aus proved slightly irksome when we told them we only expected to stay for three months they seemed to think that students on ‘Gap Years’ would wish to stay the full year but after explaining our itinerary they finally issued our visas. New Zealand proved much easier and provided we could prove we had funds enough to support ourselves they welcomed us.
A few days later we touched down in Sydney with fairly minimal baggage, a passport (with the visa) and credit cards showing funds enough to travel fairly extensively.
Marty did not endear herself to the immigration officer when asked if she had any previous convictions or illegal substances.
“I didn’t know we still needed them,” she riposted expecting to get at least a smile.
However, all she got was a surly glare and a remark that such comments were not regarded as funny. Suitably chastised we made our way to our pre-booked accommodation.
Naturally, the first thing we did was crash out on our beds; twenty-four hours in a cramped ‘economy’ class seat is probably the worst aid to sleeping known to man. It was sometime like four in the morning when we finally emerged fit enough to shower and grab some coffee.
Once we got ourselves established, we set off to explore the neighbourhood then as the shops began to open, we found the agency that arranged short term jobs for ‘back-packers.’ Two days later we were on a sheep station where several thousand sheep were being rounded up for sheering.
Basically, we were the domestics for the shearers while they stayed for two weeks to sheer the whole flock. If they were happy with us, they would invite us to follow them around from sheep station to sheep station. We stayed with them for a month then as they moved up country, we parted company and returned to Sydney before trying Melbourn.
After a couple of weeks exploring Melbourn and the surrounding country, we once again found ourselves up-country on another sheep-station and we stayed on this one until our three-month visas began to expire. Strangely, the guys proved to be very agreeable when they discovered we were prepared to wash their kit, - for a fee.
This camaraderie proved to extremely beneficial when Marty managed to get herself bitten by a snake while she was hanging out the washing on the back lot. She screamed with fright and two of the guys dropped their shearing kit immediately, to come dashing out and see what was afoot.
They recognised the snake immediately as a ‘common brown snake’ and immediately took her to the main station house where the manager kept some antivenoms in the fridge. Even after administering the treatment, they knew they had to get her to hospital to monitor her progress. By the time they got her to a suitable place she was looking pretty grim, and the hospital informed me that if she had been another thirty minutes without the antivenom, she could have been dead.
We had much to thank the shearers and the station manager for their out-back savee.
The hospital detained us for a fortnight while Marty recovered but this put us over our visa time, and we had to produce a hospital letter to emigration, or it might have affected our visit to Kiwi.
Once the situation was normalised, Marty and I had time to chuckle about Aussie fauna.
“Just a Common Brown snake,” she snorted, “and yet it’s one of the most venomous bloody creatures in snakedom. You’d think they’d have found a better name for it than ‘The Common Eastern Brown Snake.’ They can keep their bloody outback.”
“What did your mum say when you told her?”
“Come home soon!”
“That figures,” I replied as we both had a brief chuckle before Our flight to Wellington was called.
New Zealand is a beautiful country and what’s more, they don’t have any snakes.
“Old Saint Patrick got about a bit then,” Marty commented as she read that useful tit-bit in the guide-book.
“Yeah,” I agreed, “it’s hard to believe Aus and Kiwi are in the same hemisphere.”
After mooching for a week around Wellington we decided to visit North Island first.
“I thought you were a Middle Earth fan.” I teased Marty.
“Well, that can wait, we’ve got three months.”
“I shrugged and smiled. It was all the same to me and two days later we stepped of the train and caught a bus for the last miles north to Coromandel Beach.
“And you say the beach has got hot springs?” Marty wondered.
“Yeah, you have to go right down to the shoreline at Low water and if you scrape the sand you can lie in a warm bath, or if you scrape too deep, you’ll get a hot bath.”
“What happens if there’s a sudden eruption while you’re lying in your bath?” Marty demanded.
“I dunno,’ I suppose you get par-boiled.”
“Yeah, like those Aussie and Yank tourists on that volcano in North Island. Well, thanks, but no thanks. What was its name?”
“That was Whakaari, it was a volcano that had been showing signs and it had been giving off clear warnings of activation, Coromandel Beach has been stable for millennia.”
Marty frowned.
“Okay I’ll come, but; no volcano climbing!”
I sighed but agreed to Marty’s condition.
A few days later, we were luxuriating in pools of hot (but not boiling) water. Unfortunately, about a thousand other tourists were of like mind and soon we tired of the crowds.
“That’s it then, South Island it is,” Marty conceded, and like Swallows we went south.
“You do realise we’re all ‘arse - about – face’ down here.”
“Go on,” I prompted her, not grasping her observation.
“If we were swallows, we’d be going north, not south; for the winter!”
“Uuuhm, it’s February, that’s still summer-going-on-autumn down these parts,” I corrected her.
Marty giggled as we hefted our back-packs onto the train and returned to Wellington. A few days later we were on the South Island Ferry plunging through an unseasonal blow. Cook straight is an unpredictable passage and we copped a beaut.’ Fortunately, sea-sickness does not affect Marty or me and we stepped ashore on South Island feeling fine, while all around us, ‘green faces’ continued to relieve themselves of their dinners despite their having landed back on terra-firma.
In Picton, at the south-Island rail and ferry terminal we confirmed our booking and soon boarded the train south.
There are literally dozens of film sites where the Hobbit films were made and after having stopped at some on North ‘s sites we finally finished off our tour in the South Island’s Mount Cook National glacier park and the Fiords where many of the spectacular arial shots were taken of the battle scenes.
Additionally, New Zealand has many other spectacularly scenic locations, indeed more than enough to fill our eyes and sadly we came to the end of our ‘Gap Year all too soon. We found ourselves fretting in a Wellington back-packer’s hostel debating which way to return home.
Was it to be via the USA or was it to be via Singapore and Dubai?
“Are we stopping off to do any sight-seeing or is it to be a dash?” Marty asked as she counted her funds in the hostel bedroom.
“There’s enough here for at least a couple of stop-overs and the tickets are paid for.”
We hummed and hawed as we examined different options. Was it to be Hawaii and San Francisco or alternatively, Singapore and Dubai?
“It could be Hawaii, L.A., and New York.” I suggested.
“Nah,” Marty protested, “Cities are naff, though the Yanks have got some good national parks.”
“What, like the Grand Canyon or something?” I asked her.
“Well, that and others! The redwoods in California for example.”
In the end we chose America as our route home mainly because it meant we would have flown around the world. San Francisco sounded more romantic than Los Angeles and we tied in visits to the giant redwood forests and the Grand Canyon, then finishing off in the Big Apple. It was a bit of a ‘dog’s leg’ across the U.S., but we still had plenty of time and we arrived back home in plenty of time to sort out our jobs. Ready for the forthcoming academic year.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
After our hectic ‘gap year’ in the antipodes we returned to UK in late August as the last of the summer was disappearing. Even as our plane touched down, a weather front almost followed us down the runway and, as we manoeuvred for the docking gate, we heard the clatter of heavy raindrops rattling against the plane’s skin. We exchanged rueful glances then grinned at each other as we were told to not forget our belongings and join the press for the door.
Finally, we emerged into the dull grey overcast sky of London just as the second sweep of a rain squall reminded us of where we were.
“Welcome home,” Marty offered as we both smiled ironically.
I turned and cautioned her in jest.
“Don’t you dare! You know you love the rain. Besides, you’ll not get wet until you get off the train at home. And even then; Dot or even my dad will be there to meet us. Come on, let’s find a comfortable seat in the buffet car in the middle of the train. I fancy something to eat, and it’ll technically be the last day of our gap year, - a sort of celebration if you will.
This met with Marty’s full approval, so we secured a seat in the dining car and settled in for the last leg of our journey.
As we were enjoying our meal, my phone buzzed as Dot advised that she or would be there to meet the train.
“I hope you’ve brought lots of pressies,” she demanded.
“Yeah, mostly small stuff,” Marty replied enigmatically as the two diners sharing our table overheard her and smiled.
“Been far?” one of them asked as I put my phone away.
“Oz,” Marty replied, then added “gap year.”
This was enough to break the ice and we chatted almost continuously to Exeter, where we spotted Dot’s four-by-four parked conspicuously in the last bay of the carpark but easily visible from the train.
To our delight, Dot and Sam and Marty’s mum were also there to greet us.
As we emerged from the booking hall, Dot swung out of her parking bay and pulled up right beside us, so we were fairly well covered by the station canopy as we transferred our luggage. First it was hugs all around then a quick load-up of luggage and we were soon in the warm and dry of the car as Dot pulled into the traffic.
“Has much changed since we’ve been away?” Marty asked.
“We’ve opened up a doorway from the garage to the stable restaurant so we can now step from the car straight through to the bar without trudging through the yard. Perfect for nights like this.” Sam added as the rain clattered against the wind-shield.
Eventually, we were pleased to see the ‘Harbour Light’ appear as we splashed along the lane and Marty gave me a contented hug as we noticed that somebody had turned the old cornice light up to full power as a welcome signal.
“Dad’s home,” I offered as we passed under the cornice.
“Yes, he’s holding the fort at the bar,” Dot explained. He’s as keen to see you as well as Marty’s family.”
By the time, our Land-rover had skirted the pub and entered via the newly opened side gate and rear garage, the ‘reception committee’ had gathered in the stable restaurant to welcome us. Soon it was hugs and squeezes all around as Marty’s large family extended its traditional enthusiasm to the event. Then we shed our coats and retreated to the large fire in the bar.
We both grinned as we settled into the armchairs and soon the conversation was ricochetting off the walls as our families peppered us with questions.
Finally, we dug into our bags and extracted the assorted presents for each family member. With the inevitable explanations.
“The girls were easy to buy for,” Marty explained as we produced small jewellery boxes containing opal rings, broaches, and earrings. “It’s you boys who are the difficulty; fortunately, there’s only our dads and my brothers. So, it’s tie pins and cufflinks. Opals again I’m afraid, except baby Benjamin; he’s got a big stuffed kangaroo.”
I grinned as I heard Dot whisper to Sam.
“I know where that’ll end up, one of the girl’s bedrooms.”
“It’s all right, we’ve kept back some opal cuff-links for when he’s older.” I whispered back reassuringly.
With the ‘presents gauntlet more or less run without too much discontent, our reception calmed down as eventually, Marty and I found ourselves in our own bed gazing across the river and eventually falling asleep. Jet lag had taken its toll.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Dot and Sam 41
Dorothy Philpot. Landlady of The Harbour Light pub
Sam Philpot. Drag-queen and lifelong companion of Dot’s.
Billy Parkins Doorkeeper.
Jessica Merlot The town’ and county archaeologist.
Josephine MacDonald The town and county archivist.
Richard Drummond Town planning inspector
Robert Vincent. Junior planning inspector.
Georgina. (Georgie) Homeless Transgender girl previously known as George.
Bobby Gay boy on the school bus.
Marty Girl on the school bus. (She becomes Georgie’s best friend and lover)
Jack. Marty’s twin brother (Keen runner).
Trevor Aitkins, Georgie’s Biological father.
Lucinda Aitkins Georgie’s biological mother
Terence Georgie’s step-dad
Peter Terence’s homophobic son.
Allison. Old school friend of Trevor & Retired Solicitor
Fred Allison’s husband
Elizabeth Aitkins (Beth) Georgie’s younger biological sister. Later proves to be sympathetic to her ‘sister.’
Jonathon Aitkins (Johnny) Georgie’s younger biological brother.
Rosie the Rivetter Terf Gang Leader on campus.
Chapter 41
In the months between Returning from Oz and getting themselves into the grooves of their new jobs, Both Georgie and Marty found little time for social activities. Marty was having to prepare lessons for various classes from grade seven to grade twelve and for the first month or so, she found herself floundering a bit despite having passed college with an excellent degree.
Such was the shortage of maths and physics teachers the school had begged her to start without first studying for her teaching diploma which was usually a pre-requisite to teach at secondary school level, especially when teaching grades ten, eleven and twelve.
The school had agreed for her to study extra-curricular in order to take an exam during the following academic year. This put a considerable burden on Marty, but she persevered, and with the help of the previous physics teacher who had retired but offered to mentor her, she managed to complete the year with her classes getting satisfactory grades.
She felt she might have done better with more time to prepare but such was the need for physics and maths teachers, the school was just glad that her classes had survived the OFSTED inspections.
Georgie on the other hand, firstly found herself having to commute a considerable distance each day for the first year just getting adjusted to the nature of her work. For the first month she drove in every morning all the way to Cheltenham but then she befriended a work colleague and arranged for a lift from Cheltenham station to the Doughnut each working day.
This enabled her to commute by train from home to Cheltenham and saved the tiring stress of driving many miles each day.
In their second years of work, Marty had at last established a workable routine while Georgie was moved to an office in Bristol, and this halved her daily commute. Furthermore, her hours were made more flexible and this enabled her to lengthen the midweek days thus allowing early POETS days.
(NB. POETS Day is British office slang for -
Push – Off – Early – Tomorrow’s – Saturday)
During the first year back from Oz Georgie saw very little of her biological mother or her step-father. Though she did learn from her siblings Johnny and Beth that her mother had more-or-less given her oldest child up for dead because she assumed that Georgie would never give her grandchildren,
Georgie had not mentioned that she had frozen her sperm long before her transition, thanks to the kindliness of Dot and Sam when they had first adopted her.
It was during one of the only two instances after she had met her bio-mother in the last two years since returning from Oz, that Georgie was to learn that her bio-mother and step-father had disinherited her. Even this was learned second hand from Beth and Johnny as they chatted during a walk around the city of Cambridge where Johnny had gained entry to university.
They had stopped at a café the conversation had turned to family and it was Beth who let slip the information because both of Georgie’s siblings had presumed that Georgie knew. Georgie had responded with some anger, but she was not greatly surprised.
“I suppose that was Terence’s idea, was it?” Georgie replied as she sipped the last of her coffee.
Neither sibling could say for certain, but Marty was about to comment about Georgie’s frozen sperm until Georgie gave her shin a tap.
Neither Beth nor Johnny noticed the glance between Marty and Georgie, but the matter of the disinheritance was not laid as Georgie caught the waitresses’ eye for more coffee.
Georgie continued.
“I suppose that was Terence looking to cut the costs of inheritance for we three Aitkins kids, so they cut me out of the will because Dot adopted me.”
“Probably,” Johhny agreed somewhat apologetically. “Terry’s something of a prick as we all know. But I didn’t think he’d go this far.”
“But that’s not fair!” Beth protested, mum’s house was sold to get the bigger house for us and Terence’s three kids. The house should be split six ways not five. You’ve been denied your share.”
Georgie just grimaced wryly and responded.
“Should I really care? Dot and Sam have deeded the ‘Harbour Light’ pub to me in their wills. That’s not just an inheritance, that’s a bloody good income as well.”
“Yeah, you’ve landed on your feet and no mistake.”
“Are you going to bring your inheritance up with Terry?” Beth persisted.
“What’s the point?” Georgie replied as they finished their drinks and returned to where they had agreed to meet Terry and Lucinda.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Did you enjoy your tour of the college?” Lucinda asked the four as they joined their table.
“We only looked at the traditional colleges and only a couple of those.” Johhny replied. “There’s too much to see in a day.”
“Yeah, we only saw the old, historical stuff.” Marty agreed, “Nothing of any labs or science.
“I’m reading pure maths.” Johhny explained. There’s not much in the way of science or lab work during the first year.
Terence remained silent, he had never been to university and felt frankly, out of his depth. Even the visit to Cambridge on Johhny and Beth’s behalves had only reinforced his resentment that his own three children were not academically inclined, though his son seemed to have a bent for the building business.
His brooding silence put a damper on the meal and conversation lagged somewhat until Beth, ever the stirrer, decided to ask Terry and Lucinda why Georgie had been cur out of the will.
The parents exchanged concerned glances until Lucinda decided to grasp the bull by the horns.
“Georgie is no longer considered our child now that she’s been adopted by that Dorothy woman at the pub.”
“She’s still our dad Trevor’s child and Trevor still has equity in the money you transferred to buy the bigger house for all the children. He told me the legal deal when you sold the house. His equity still remains as a quarter of the current house so by rights, if there are six children then the equity in our current home should be divided up among six children, that is if your wills are fair.”
“Well, we don’t consider Georgie to be one of our children because she’s incapable of giving us grandchildren.”
“You’re just being transphobic now! What if Georgie had been born a girl but unable to have children.” Beth persisted.
“Well, she wasn’t, she could have given me grandchildren, but she chose not to. That’s not what grandparents want to hear.”
Marty was about to speak up, but not for the first time did she feel Georgie’s toe poking her shin. She had just drawn breath to declare that Georgie would be able to give Lucinda grandchildren but the toe-poke and cautioning glance from Georgie caused her to stop. Beth however was an insightful young woman, and she caught the silent interplay between her trans-sister and Marty. She turned to demand what had just transpired silently between Marty and Georgie but a baleful squint from Georgie told her not to push it. Instead, she resolved to ask Georgie later.
Having concluded that her sister Beth was intellectually resourceful enough to recognise when some things were best left secret, Georgie just gave her sister another meaningful glance as a clear message that the issued would be resolved later, possibly another day. Then, to clear the air a bit Georgie explained.
“Listen everybody, I’m not in the least bit interested in any inheritance, whichever way it comes to me. Dad has promised me, I’ll be getting my fair share from his own estate and of course, Dot and Sam have promised me the ‘Harbour Light’ when they pass.”
Marty caught Terry eyeing Georgie speculatively and she toe-poked her companion whilst giving a surreptitious nod towards the stepfather. Georgie turned to look at Marty and caught the interest in Terry’s eyes, so she explained a little further.
“I’ve seen Dot and Sam’s wills; indeed, in addition to being the sole benefactor of the wills, I am also a named witness to them, along with their lawyers so I have no problems with any other inheritance. Now let’s drop the subject.”
This time it was Georgie’s bio-mother Lucinda’s turn to interject.
“Well, if we’re talking inheritances, who stands to inherit that pub after you die?”
Georgie snorted with amusement.
“Ha! It won’t be you or Terry will it. I don’t expect to die young.”
“You might die in a car accident or something.”
“This is getting morbid now,” Marty observed then added. “Georgie and I will be getting married in a few years. We’re living together at the pub most of the time even now.”
“You must write a will,” Lucinda advised, “you could both die in a car accident.”
“Huh, that sounds sinister,” Johnny smirked as he glanced meaningfully at Terry... “Got your brake pipe cutters ready and waiting dad?”
“How dare you suggest such a thing!” Lucinda snapped angrily.
“Well, we already know Terry hates her guts. He knocked her about and drove her out so I wouldn’t put something like that past him.”
“Dammit! Enough, I say!” Georgie cursed loud enough to attract stares from other passengers on the train. “Will you stop talking inheritances before anybody’s bloody dead!”
The whole family took the hint and for several minutes they fell silent until the buffet trolly appeared and they purchased some sandwiches and drinks. The embarrassment about inheritances caused the family to remain silent until half an hour before arriving in Kings Cross station, then necessity demanded that arrangements and contact numbers were exchanged for when Johhny went up to Cambridge.
Finally, in London they split up as Georgie and Marty travelled down to the West country while the rest travelled home to Gloucester. When Georgie and Marty finally arrived home, they flopped down on their bed at the Harbour Light pub. Dealing with Terry and Lucinda had been a trial.
“I’m glad that’s over. No more Terry until Christmas.” Georgie sighed.
“Your mother’s relentless.” Marty opined, “She’s obsessed about grand-kids.”
“Let her carry-on obsessing;” Georgie retorted through pursed lips to express her distaste. “If we do have kids, she still won’t have grandparent rights. Those go to your parents and Trevor.”
“What about Dot and Sam?”
“Well, yes; them as well. That’s a given if you’re agreeable.”
“Ayye, they’ve earned that right,” Marty sighed, as she curled up into the crook of Georgie’s arms as it stretched across the pillow.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The next time Georgie and Marty had any communication with Johny and Beth was at Christmas. In truth, the younger siblings had so enjoyed themselves at the Harbour Light during the summer, they were itching to come down for the Christmas festivities.
They had heard lots of tales about the drag nights and even articles in the local West Country press describing the quality of entertainment. For such a somewhat remote estuarine venue, tucked down on the Cornish-Devon peninsular, The Harbour Light had somewhat surpassed itself.
Dot and Sam had again been forced to extend the premises by buying the only remaining space between their stable restaurant and the little boat museum. This had entailed building an extended portal over the old dockyard gates and thus creating a cosy enclosed space that provided a safe and secure perimeter that deterred thieves and reinforced the fire regulations.
Furthermore, it had created a secure secondary access to the newbuilds behind Trevor’s lock-keeper cottage and the converted warehouses and fishing cottages. These cottages had once had fishing lofts or artisan’s workshops, so they had become rather desirable local homes controlled by the council as part of the development contract. All in all, the old basin had become a very vibrant and mixed community thanks to Dots foresight when the developers had come knocking. There was life in the area during weekdays as well as the weekends when the new-build second homes were occupied.
When Johhny and Beth arrived after their colleges had ‘gone-down’ for Christmas they were delighted to find the Basin already festooned with Christmas decorations and lights. But, when they turned up as arranged at the Harbour light, they were mildly disappointed to find that Marty and Georgie were still up in Bristol, however, Dot and Sam made them welcome and soon Trevor arrived.
“Where are Marty and Georgie?” They demanded to know of their siblings.
“They’re up in Town,” Trevor explained, “I suppose they’ll be down soon. We’ll get the buzz when their train’s due and we can meet them at the station.”
Feeling slightly miffed that their older sibling had not agreed to meet them in Bristol and then they could have travelled down together, Johnny and Beth took a stroll around the new extensions to the pub. Eventually, Trevor buzzed them to tell them that Georgie and Marty were expected at the station in half an hour, so they immediately clambered into the land-rover and Johnny practiced his new driving skills with a longer vehicle.
By now the ‘meeting the train routine’ was known off pat by everybody who lived or stayed at The Harbour Light. Johnny was parked in their usual location to be readily visible just before the train entered the station. They were perfectly parked as Georgie and Marty stepped off the train.
“I thought you’d be loaded down with Christmas shopping.” Beth remarked with a voice tinged with disappointment.
“Nah, we had more important things to sort out.” Johnny replied.
“Oooh! Am I hearing wedding bells.” Beth asked hopefully.
“Steady on sis,” Georgie laughed. It’ll be years yet before we’re set up for that.”
Thus, in a light-hearted mood, they arrived home.
Once home, Georgie met privately with Dot and showed her the letter.
“So, what did they advise?” Dot asked.
“Well Marty took the usual fertility tests and everything is as we expected, she’s healthy, relatively young, and fertile. They say now is about the best time to go for it. The frozen sperm is still healthy and Marty’s at the best age, early twenties.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Dot and Sam 42
Dorothy Philpot. Landlady of The Harbour Light pub
Sam Philpot. Drag-queen and lifelong companion of Dot’s.
Billy Parkins Doorkeeper.
Jessica Merlot The town’ and county archaeologist.
Josephine MacDonald The town and county archivist.
Richard Drummond Town planning inspector
Robert Vincent. Junior planning inspector.
Georgina. (Georgie) Homeless Transgender girl previously known as George.
Bobby Gay boy on the school bus.
Marty Girl on the school bus. (She becomes Georgie’s best friend, lover, and wife)
Jack. Marty’s twin brother (Keen runner).
Trevor Aitkins, Georgie’s Biological father.
Lucinda Aitkins Georgie’s biological mother
Terence Georgie’s step-dad
Peter Terence’s homophobic son.
Allison Old friend of Trevor & Retired Solicitor
Fred Allison’s husband
Elizabeth Aitkins (Beth) Georgie’s younger biological sister. Later proves to be sympathetic to her ‘sister.’
Jonathon Aitkins (Johnny) Georgie’s younger biological brother.
Rosie the Rivetter Terf Gang Leader on campus.
Peggy Marty’s mother
Dot and Sam chapter 42.
After the Christmas holiday and after Beth and Johnny had returned to Gloucester for the New Year, Georgie and Marty organised a ‘get-together’ for Dot, Sam, and Marty’s own parents to discuss the idea of first getting married and then going for a family by invitro fertilisation.
“Are you seriously considering twins then?” Marty’s mother Peggy squeaked excitedly as she absorbed the news and struggled to disguise her concerns.
Marty frowned slightly at first, but her mother’s excitement became infectious, so she nodded affirmation as she turned to face her dad.
“The clinic says it’s perfectly viable, my eggs are good, and Georgie’s frozen sperm is still 100% viable.”
Both of Marty’s parents thus came fully on-board with the plan and the meeting ended with a tearful but happy separation as Georgie, Marty, and her parents strolled through the town whilst stopping occasionally to look in baby-shop windows.
“Aren’t we pushing our luck a bit?” Marty’s dad queried with a little smile as they stood outside a shop. “I mean Marty’s not even married yet, nor pregnant.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
At the fertility clinic, some days later, Marty smirked a little self-consciously as she spread her legs for the inseminist to insert the catheter up past her cervix and into the fertile lining of her womb.
“I feel like a cow in the A, I., barn.” She giggled to hide her embarrassed excitement as the inseminist withdrew the catheter.
“That’ll be artificial insemination then; not artificial intelligence,” Georgie giggled.
“Why, are you hoping for a robot or a baby?” Marty riposted, catching up on the thread of the joke.
Even the inseminist gave a little chuckle as she added her ‘two bob’s worth and inserted the second catheter with the male embryo.
“We can offer you twins but they’ll only be human I’m afraid; no robotics here.”
“Twins will do.” Marty finished as she finally closed her legs and Georgie stepped across to give her a kiss.
The inseminist stepped back from Marty’s table and pulled off her surgical gloves purposefully.
“Well, that’s the important part done, we’ll monitor you after two weeks and because they’re your own eggs we expect complete success. Then we’ll want you to come in every month on Saturday mornings, that’s when you’ve told us is your most convenient day.”
“I’m surprised you work weekends.” Georgie opined.
“It’s our busiest day,” the inseminist explained, “you know, working couples and stuff. Besides, you’ve chosen to be private patients, so the least we can do is make it as convenient as possible. No need to interrupt your working week.”
Georgie shrugged and agreed with the doctor/inseminist. Her observation made perfect sense.
“So; next fortnight - Saturday then,” Marty remarked as she got dressed.”
“Yes, but call us if you have the slightest concerns, you know; any bleeding or discharges.”
Marty nodded her understanding then smiled.
“Don’t I get a cup of tea or something, like the blood donors.”
The doctor chuckled as she explained.
“There’s a tea and coffee machine in the waiting room, and there’s choccy bic’s I believe. They are also free.”
Georgie tugged affectionately at Marty’s arm.
“There’s a nice café just around behind the station. You can have cake.”
“Oooh, wow! You temptress you! How can a pregnant girl resist?” Marty laughed.
With that, they bid the smiling inseminist goodbye and left for the café.
In the café, they phoned the parents and almost by return of post, Marty’s mum Peggy and her younger sister arrived at the restaurant with the sister staring in excitement.
“I wondered why mum kept stopping outside baby-shops! So, it’s true.”
“Well, we’ve done the deed as it were.” Marty ‘confessed’ with a tight little smile. We’ll know in a fortnight if it’s successful.
At this news, both mother and sister reached down to give Marty an emotional hug while Georgie simply sat looking slightly embarrassed. Then she asked, “Shall we go to the Harbour Light and share the news with Dot and Sam?” Marty suggested.
“I couldn’t think of anything better,” Peggy agreed,” we can pick up your dad on the way, he’s in town anyway.”
By mid-afternoon they turned up at The Harbour Light to be met by the grinning Dot and Sam.
“So, is there to be a wedding pretty soon then?” Sam asked as Dot poured the champagne.
“As soon as we confirm the eggs have taken, Marty replied as Georgie smiled with a face-splitting, cheesy grin.”
“How long will that be?” Dot asked.
“They said two weeks then they do a test.” Georgie confirmed.
“I don’t know what you’ve got to grin about, you’ve hardly had anything to do with it.”
“But great oaks mum, great oaks. After all I supplied the sperm.”
“Well, I suppose that’s true, so now it’s provisional congratulations, is it?”
“I’m not tempting fate,” Georgie conceded. I’ll not be toasting anything until we know the embryos have taken.”
“Well, I am!” Marty declared. I’ve got two live embryos in here and they deserve a welcome. So, here’s to success.”
“Oh, I’ll drink to success,” Georgie conceded.
“As will we all,” Marty’s dad boomed happily. “Except you darling,” he told his daughter. “No alcohol now for you because your pregnant,”
“Aww, just the one dad, just the one – and a small one at that.”
“Oh, alright then we’ll have just the one toast.” He cautioned.
So, they did.
For the rest of the afternoon, they discussed wedding plans and baby’s names until Trevor showed up in the early evening and the second bottle of champagne was breached. They brought Trevor up to speed concerning the impregnation and as he happily offered another toast, the conversation returned to baby-names and weddings.
That evening, Marty’s family stayed at the Harbour Light because everybody except Marty, was slightly the worse for wear. On the Sunday they arranged a full Sunday lunch at the pub and even Jack, Marty’s twin brother, managed to attend after his Sunday League football match.
“So, I’m to be an uncle then.” He grinned as he reached down to hug his twin sister Marty.
Eventually, the lunch was finished, and Marty’s family returned to their home while Marty and Georgie lay on their bed to discuss all the stuff that had been discussed at the meal.
“When do we tell Lucy and Terry?” Georgie wondered. “That is, if we tell them at all.”
“We’ll have to tell them, it’s only fair that Beth and Johnny find out.” Marty explained. “They’ve done nothing wrong.”
“Can’t we just tell them and hold them to secrecy.” Georgie continued. “It’s not as is if Lucy’s been a proper mum ever since I came out.”
“Well, I can’t order you to keep it a secret but if you don’t tell them, it’s just another brick in the wall that makes it harder, if or when you decide to try and break it down.”
“I want to make them suffer, like I did; you know rejection and all that.”
“What happens later on if our kids decide they want to meet their paternal grandmother.”
Georgie fell silent as she mused.
‘Why do women always seem to take the long-term view?’ ‘They could cross that bridge if they ever came to it,’ she told herself as Marty finally curled up and spooned into Georgie’s cwtch.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“I’d really like to have a proper wedding,” Marty declared a couple of days later at the next wedding discussions.
“What; you mean in a church and everything?” Georgie asked.
“Well, no, not necessarily in a church. We’d be hard put to find a vicar or priest in these parts anyway.” Marty opined.
“Oh, I dunn’o.” Her father remarked. I’ve met a few vicars locally and done quite a few favours for them repairing churches and such. I’ll have a hunt around rural Devon, you never know. Do you have any objections to a church wedding Georgie?”
“Well in truth I’m an avowed atheist but if Marty wants all the bells and ribbons, I’ll rub along.” Georgie grinned as she turned to Trevor. “Will you walk me up the aisle dad, I promise to wear a beautiful gown.”
Trevor’s jaw sagged slightly before changing to a grin.
“That would be a hoot darling!” He replied as he turned to Marty’s father. “Two brides being walked up to the altar. That’ll set the old Devonian parish pump a’ratle’in.”
“Aye, tha’rr it will,” Marty’s dad croaked with a wheezy laugh.
Thus, for the following fortnight the two families ironed out the preparations but did not confirm anything until after the confirmation tests. At the fertility clinic Marty found the tension almost unbearable until the doctor returned from the labs with a smile.
“Well, I can confirm that you’re pregnant, but I don’t know yet if both embryos have taken. The tests only confirm you are pregnant.
“Oh, bloody hell!” Marty cursed with an impatient grin. “So, when will that be.
“Hopefully on the first scan, but more probably on the second.”
“Tsk!” Marty expostulated. “This business is such a palaver!”
“Patience girl, patience!” Her dad admonished her affectionately. We’re all desperate to know but we’ll just have to wait.”
“But I am pregnant,” Marty grinned as she turned to Peggy. “So at least we can organise the wedding.”
On this note, they left the clinic and went for a meal and another chat.
“Are you having bride’s-maids?” Marty’s younger sister pressed as the food arrived.
Marty glanced at Peggy and Dot for assurance; as the mothers of the brides, much of the decisions were there’s to make. Peggy glanced questioningly at Dot as she discreetly confirmed if the cost was allowable, and Dot nodded vigorously.
Thus, Peggy declared, “Yes,” enthusiastically and asked Marty, “who did you have in mind?”
“Well, my sister obviously,” then she hesitated as she turned to Georgie. “What about Beth, your sister?”
Georgie hesitated nervously as she contemplated the issue.
“That would mean having to let Beth know, and that would mean all of my family will know.” She turned to Trevor uncertainly. “What do you think Daddy?”
“I think Beth would be very hurt if you didn’t ask her.”
“I’d like her there.” Georgie declared and that more or less closed the issue, so Trevor agreed to approach his younger daughter on the Tuesday when he was next up in Birmingham.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“What!” Beth almost shrieked. “They’re getting married!”
Trevor grinned and nodded confirmation.
“Yes, and Marty has asked if you’d like to be a bride’s-maid.”
“Of course I want to be a bloody bride’s-maid! That’s a fatuous question! My own brother – well sister’s wedding, and you ask if I want to be a bride's-maid! When is it by the way?”
“It’s not been fixed yet. Marty’s dad is pulling in a few favours to find a vicar who’ll do the deed. Devon’s a bit behind things when it comes to same sex weddings and things. He’s also approached the bishop because he did some excellent repair work on the Cathedral after that great storm. Every builder and stone-mason I southern England was chock-a-block with emergency repair work and, although Marty’s dad is not technically a time-served mason, he’s extremely capable. Even today, the worshippers at Truro chuckle over the new gargoyles he made for the lintel of the entrance porch that was hit by falling masonry in the storm.
They bear a spectacularly comical resemblance to the bishop and the dean and both clerics have a sense of humour, so the gargoyles stayed.
Anyway, the bishop gave his full permission and it remains’ for Marty’s dad to find a vicar. The last I heard, there is a new young lady vicar in a Parish near their home and she seems agreeable.”
“Well, you can count me as a bride’s-maid.” Beth affirmed before she pressed on with questions.
“Does our mother and Terry know yet?”
“No, nor your brother Johnny. We’re only just getting started on guest-lists and things. Georgie’s still a bit wary of Terry and that oafish boy of his Peter.”
“I suspect there’ll be ructions if they’re not invited. Mum will be bound to make a scene if she and her partner aren’t invited.”
“As the father of the bride, that’ll be my problem to sort out.”
“Is Georgie getting married as a woman then?”
“Yes! Bridal gown and all. Marty’s father and I will each be escorting our daughters to the altar.”
“That’ll upset the locals,” Beth chuckled as she begged leave to tell her younger brother Johnny.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Dot and Sam 43
Dorothy Philpot. Landlady of The Light pub Harbour
Sam Philpot. Drag-queen and lifelong companion of Dot.
Billy Parkins Doorkeeper.
Jessica Merlot The town’ and county archaeologist.
Josephine MacDonald The town and county archivist.
Richard Drummond Town planning inspector
Robert Vincent. Junior planning inspector.
Georgina. (Georgie) Homeless Transgender girl previously known as George.
Bobby Gay boy on the school bus.
Marty Girl on the school bus. (She becomes Georgie’s best friend, lover, and wife)
Jack. Marty’s twin brother (Keen runner).
Trevor Aitkins, Georgie’s Biological father.
Lucinda Aitkins Georgie’s biological mother
Terence Georgie’s step-dad
Peter Terence’s homophobic son.
Allison Old friend of Trevor & Retired Solicitor
Fred Allison’s husband
Elizabeth Aitkins (Beth) Georgie’s younger biological sister.
Later proves to be sympathetic to her ‘sister.’
Jonathon Aitkins (Johnny) Georgie’s younger biological brother.
Rosie the Rivetter Terf Gang Leader on campus.
Peggy Marty’s mother
Chapter 43
In the harbour office on the pier head at the end of the preserved row of cottages, Trevor, Georgie’s biological father, was ticking off the wedding guest list while Marty sat beside him. They were checking through the ‘RSVP’s’ that had so far arrived. Peggy sat on the opposite side of the partner desk, going through the seating arrangements based on the same list of those who had so far replied.
“Ah, I see Alison and Fred have replied and agreed to come.” Peggy observed with some relief. “That makes things easier for that table and I can start to sort another group for the remaining Table. Have Georgie’s family replied yet?” Peggy asked.
“Beth and Johnny have definitely agreed by phone,” Marty confirmed “but Lucy and Terry haven’t replied at all. I had expected them to phone the moment they got the invitations; if only to make a fuss about Lucy not being notified of the wedding. We still have not told them Marty’s pregnant.”
“I’m anticipating another earthquake when they do find out.” Trevor observed.
“Too bad,” Marty sniffed contemptuously. “She lost all rights to being included when she threw Georgie out and declared her to no longer be a part of their family.”
Trevor nodded sympathetically but the issue still needed to be resolved. Lucy and Terry still needed to reply to the invitation and the question of Terry’s children needed to be resolved. In truth Trevor would have preferred that the transphobic Terry did not come, nor his equally transphobic son Peter. As to Terry’s two daughters, well Trevor did not know much about them or their views about LGBT issues.
Lucy still had a right to attend her child’s wedding, though it irked Trevor to have to concede the point. However, the more his daughter confirmed she was not happy to have Lucy and particularly Terry not to attend, the more Trevor secretly hoped that they would stay away.
Once again, he studied the private letter that Lucy had written to Georgie when they had come down to see Allison in a previous summer, but the contents did not really offer a solution. As Georgie had pointed out, she did not know if the letter was sincere or just some sort of trap.
Trevor scanned through the letter thoughtfully.
Dear George (or as you prefer, Georgie,)
I am finding it hard to reconcile your wish to be considered female but if it serves to maintain some sort of connection between us then, (as any good parent should) I will strive to do so when in your company if I ever get to find myself there again. Both Elizabeth and Jonathon tell me that they have no problem accepting you as female and indeed they have warned me that if I persist in referring to you as a male, then I will most certainly will lose you and I might consequently yet lose both of them. This troubles me greatly.
It's hard to come to terms with the idea that my children have virtually no problem accepting your condition whilst I still have to persevere with my own take on it.
Parents often make sacrifices for their children so please consider this as my sacrifice for you; I will endeavour to remain in touch by using female pronouns towards you and I will also endeavour to keep you and Terry apart. That is the best I can do. Be assured, I will certainly make occasional ‘pronoun mistakes’ when or if I ever meet with you again because old habits die hard.
There is little more I can add to this letter until or unless I hear from you, either through your father or via Beth or Johnny.
It only remains to say that I DO NOT want to lose touch with you.
Mummy
Xx
Trevor placed the latter carefully on his work desk and absent-mindedly pressed out the creases. After staring across the dock towards ‘The Harbour Light’ pub he eventually decided to use the latter as an ‘open-says-me’ to try and get some action on the wedding RSVP they had sent to Lucy and Terry. Firstly, he had to get Georgie’s permission.
Georgie answered her private mobile phone while she was sitting at her workstation at GCHQ, Cheltenham.
“Oh, hello Daddy!” She answered cheerfully, “to what do I owe this pleasure?”
“You won’t thank me for this darling, but I have to get a response from your bio-mother because Peggy and Dot are finalising the wedding guest list and Lucy has even yet failed to answer.”
There was a brief silence that Trevor completely understood, then Georgie replied in a subdued, almost truculent manner.
“I don’t really want her, as you’re well aware, but I know that Beth’s step-sisters are keen to be bride’s-maids and if they are to be invited then I suppose you’ll have to contact my egg-donor. Don’t make it sound as though we’re pleading with her to bring them.”
“You’ve obviously been in touch with Beth then. How does she get on with her stepsisters?”
“Much better than with Peter. Why is it that girls are usually more sympathetic about LGBT stuff?”
“Well, you girls can answer that better than me darling.” Trevor conceded. “So, you’re telling me that they are sympathetic.”
“Beth says yes, so I’ve no objections to they’re being bride’s-maids.”
“Do you think inviting them to be bride’s-maids might serve as some sort of olive branch?” Trevor ventured tentatively.
Again, there was a pregnant silence before Georgie replied.
“I’m not offering any olive branches, but if it makes Beth’s stepsisters happy to be bride’s-maids I don’t mind that. At least it should give them something to look forward to. If it serves to repair stuff. It’s no skin off my nose. You’d best make sure that the girls know that it’s an all-girl affair. The only males will be you, Johhny, and Marty’s family.”
“What about Terry and Peter? What if they decide to come.” Trevor asked.
“Uuuhm, according to Johnny and Beth, both Terry and Peter have adamantly declared their refusal to attend. Something about ‘effing queers’ in dresses.”
“Let’s hope they stick to that decision.” Trevor finished. “I’ll get on with an e-mail. See you tonight darling.”
“Bye, Daddy; love you.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
An hour later, Trevor was about to shut the harbour office when his desk-top beeped and the printer churned out and email. He reached across the desk hopefully and was relieved to see it was from Lucy.
“We have to talk. Call me using Beth’s phone.”
Trevor paused thoughtfully for it seemed there were still some issues between his ex-wife and her new husband Terry. It seemed to him that she still avoided any possible issues about Georgie with her husband Terry,
‘Could he still be that homophobic,’ he wondered.
On the basis of the brevity of the e-mail, Trevor concluded she had little time to talk so he phoned Beth. The phone only rang but once and Lucy answered immediately.
“Yes, the girls and I will come. Give the venue and stuff to Beth and the dates of the dress-fittings.”
“Okay, I – “
But the link was already closed, and Trevor was left holding a dead line.
“Hmph,” he expostulated as he realised that Lucy was keeping communications to a minimum.
When he next spoke to Beth he would get the picture, but he suspected Terry was trying to enforce control over the family while Lucy was determined to enable Terry’s daughters to come as bride’s-maids. It struck Trevor that Lucy was trying desperately to hold her family together.
That evening Trevor organised a ‘council-of-war’ at ‘The Harbour Light’ and he invited Marty’s parents to attend. Once they had gathered, he set out the issues.
“Firstly, Lucy wants to attend but she’s anxious to keep Terry and his son Peter away in case they cause trouble.”
Peggy and her husband exchanged glances and Peggy spoke.
“The last thing we want is family trouble. How do you intend keeping them away?”
Trevor explained.
“We don’t tell Terry or his son Peter where or when the wedding is to be.”
“Easier said than done,” Marty’s father observed. “If the banns are to be read and posted, he need only look at the parish registry.”
“Only if he knows which Parish is holding the wedding. I have spoken on the phone to Georgie’s Bio-mother and stepsisters about the need for secrecy and I’ve let Allison and Fred know as well. If we can keep the wedding location a secret from Terry and Peter, then the rest of the day will be easy to Manage.
Dot has developed a good relationship with the police since the pub has acquired a good reputation for peace-keeping, so the reception at ‘The Harbour Light’ should pass without trouble. Billy Parkins and his regular team of doormen are invited as guests anyway because they’ve known Georgie since she’s lived there.
A lot of the drag queens want to come to the wedding as well and they’ve promised to not go overboard with their outfits. Dot and Sam have made it quite clear that Georgie and Marty are not to be out-shone.”
This raised a chuckle but once the arrangements of secrecy were sorted between the two families, the rest of the meeting was devoted to the last and final arrangements. The following day, Georgie and Marty met with the lady vicar of the pertinent Parish church and the date was fixed.
“A Thursday wedding then,” she mused. “That will help my schedule a lot. Everybody usually wants the Saturday. Will you need time for the decorations and festive flowers.”
“There’ll be decorations enough with our wedding gowns and bride’s-maids.” Georgie chuckled. “It will also leave time for anybody having the following Saturday wedding to organise their own flowers. It will also enable you to attend our wedding breakfast and later reception at ‘The Harbour Light.’”
The vicar smiled.
“Oh yes. I’ve heard it’s a good night there.”
“It will be a special night vicar, because normally the public entertainment nights are Friday and Saturday.” Marty grinned. “Only our friends and the regular performers are invited.”
“The drag queens?” The vicar grinned. “Will they be at the church?”
“Yes, but very subdued.” Dot explained. “The sequins and feathers only come out in the evening. Some will even arrive in drab if I know them. You’re welcome to stay all night, we’ve still got a room spare.”
“Can I bring a friend?” The vicar asked.
“By all means,” Dot allowed. “Will you be sharing a bed?”
“He’s my partner, an architect managing the Cathedral repairs.”
“I’m sure he’ll enjoy looking around the basin then. Yes, he’s most welcome.
And so, as the weeks and then the days to the wedding, shortened, so did the excitement mount. On the Saturday before the Thursday of the wedding, the brides and bride’s-maids met for the final fittings of the gowns. To everybody’s relief there were virtually no adjustments to be made and Marty turned to Georgie with a grin as they left the shop.
“I thought with my ‘bump’ they’d have to let my dress out.”
“We can hardly notice your bump darling. Stop worrying. Come on let’s go to the clinic for your check.”
Georgie and Marty agreed to meet the bride’s-maids later, then they separated as Georgie and Marty left for the clinic.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Is there something wrong?” Marty asked nervously as she saw the gynaecologists expression turn to a frown.”
“No, I don’t think so, but I’d better get my colleague check this out.”
Marty’s mood darkened as she turned to Georgie.
“Something’s wrong! Did you see her expression.”
“Yes!” Georgie swallowed nervously. “But we don’t know for sure.”
As they exchanged fearful looks the gynaecologist returned with a familiar face of the midwifery nurse towing a familiar instrument.
“What’s wrong? Are the babies okay.”
The tension mounted as the nurse adjusted the natal scanner. Then she looked up matter-of-factly.
“Perfectly okay, here take a look.”
Marty leant forward as the nurse rotated the screen and released a knowing smile.
“D’you see anything.” She asked as the gynaecologist also bent to look.
“Oooh yes!” The gynaecologist exclaimed as she turned to Marty. “Do twins run in your family?”
“Yes. I’m a twin!” Marty replied as she peered at the screen and realised what she was looking at. “Is that another head?” She squealed as she tapped the screen?”
“It certainly looks like it,” the Gynaecologist replied as she checked Marty’s file, “and it looks as though the female foetus has divided. We must have missed extra heart-beat because of the twins. Can I ask you to roll on your side?”
Marty did as asked, and the nurse promptly smeared the cream on the side of Marty’s belly. After taking a second scan, they made Marty roll on her front and took a third.
“Why all the palaver,” Marty asked.
“We’re double checking the third foetus,” the gynaecologist explained, “to see if we can determine the sex.”
“Oh. Would it matter, we already know there’s a boy and a girl in there.”
“Multiple births always need extra care. Anyway, wouldn’t you like to know?” The nurse pressed.
“Well, the grans will want to know I suppose,” Marty conceded, “they’ve been discussing baby names since day one.”
The nurse studied the new images and nodded with satisfaction as the gynaecologist also nodded approvingly.
“Twins, girls; are you happy?” the nurse asked Marty.
“Of course, provided they’re healthy.” Marty replied.
“We can’t see anything else on the scan, but we’ll take some fluids and run some tests, just normal procedures. Don’t worry I genuinely can’t see anything amiss.”
Marty sighed as Georgie took her opportunity to study the images with Marty. The gynaecologist studied the pair and asked.
“Are you going to tell the grand-parents?”
Marty’s eyes widened with amusement as she turned to Georgie.
“Let’s keep it as a surprise. They’ve been rattling on about names since day one and I’ve sensed a noticeable aura of competition between the grans.”
Georgie’s eyes widened with delight as she contemplated the idea.
“That’ll be a hoot. We’ll keep them on tenterhooks right up to the births. You know how they’ve been going on about it.”
The doctor and nurse suppressed a chuckle as they saw the mischief glittering in Both girl’s eyes.
“So, you haven’t decided yet anyway?” The gynaecologist asked.
The nurse smiled and turned to the gynaecologist as she tapped the screen with satisfaction. They exchanged a hand signal and the nurse turned to Marty.
“Do you want to know? It looks pretty certain.”
“Go on.” Marty replied as Georgie leant in.
“It’s a girl, and they’ll be identical. We only planted two eggs.”
“Are they healthy?” Marty asked.
“As far as we can tell, yes.”
Georgie and Marty gave each other a long tight hug as they contemplated the day they would break the news, after the children were delivered.
Armed with their secret, Georgie and Marty met the families in town and chatted excitedly about the forthcoming wedding for the following Thursday.
“So, you’re certain that Terry and Peter have no inkling?” Georgie asked Peggy.
“As certain as we can be, they’re working on a housing estate near Exeter during the week, and they’re booked to watch Bristol Rovers on the Thursday night. Serendipity I think.”
Thus reassured, the families finished the last minute shopping and arranged to collect the wedding gowns on the Tuesday ready for the Thursday wedding.
“We’ll keep everything at the ‘Harbour Light’ for secrecy’s sake Dot declared.”
This had already been pre-arranged and everybody departed with the plans firmly arranged.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Dot and Sam 44
Dorothy Philpot. Landlady of The Harbour Light pub
Sam Philpot. Drag-queen and lifelong companion of Dot.
Billy Parkins Doorkeeper.
Jessica Merlot The town’ and county archaeologist.
Josephine MacDonald The town and county archivist.
Richard Drummond Town planning inspector
Robert Vincent. Junior planning inspector.
Georgina. (Georgie) Homeless Transgender girl previously known as George.
Bobby Gay boy on the school bus.
Marty Girl on the school bus. (She becomes Georgie’s best friend, lover, and wife)
Jack. Marty’s twin brother (Keen runner).
Trevor Aitkins, Georgie’s Biological father.
Lucinda Aitkins Georgie’s biological mother
Terence Georgie’s step-dad
Peter Terence’s homophobic son.
Allison Old friend of Trevor & Retired Solicitor
Fred Allison’s husband
Elizabeth Aitkins (Beth) Georgie’s younger biological sister. Later proves sympathetic to Georgie
Jonathon Aitkins (Johnny) Georgie’s younger biological brother.
Rosie the Rivetter Terf Gang Leader on campus.
Peggy Marty’s mother
Abigail, (Abbie) Marty’s younger sister.
Andrea Marty’s second (youngest) sister.
Gemma Beth’s stepsister.
Beryl Beth’s second stepsister.
Dot and Sam chapter 44.
Marty and her family breathed a sigh of relief as Thursday morning dawned bright and sunny. Sam had arrived in the Land-rover to pick up the whole family and ferry them to ‘The Harbour Light’ where both brides and bride’s-maids were to dress for the wedding.
The pub was the best venue because there were five bride’s-maids to dress, plus the brides. The two wedding planners were truly relieved when they arrived at the ‘Harbour light’ to find several tables and the main bar area set aside for the dressing. The pair quickly spread the table covers over the tables and started to lay out the gowns. When Marty’s family arrived with Sam acting as chauffer, they found Georgie and Dot assisting the wedding planners.
Naturally, the excitement was mounting, and all the girls hugged each other as they contemplated the preparations.
“Are the brides allowed to see each other’s gowns before the ceremony?” Peggy chuckled.
“I think that tradition’s long gone out of the window in this wedding!” Trevor grinned as he adjusted Jack’s tie. “I mean, Jack here is best man to two brides. Have you got both rings young man?”
Jack reached into his waist-coat pocket and produced the identical rings to confirm his possession, before hastily returning them to their secure home in his waistcoat pocket.
Then the men were banished to the stable restaurant while all the girls started to undress. They were down to their very stylish (and sexy) underwear when Lucy arrived at the pub with her stepdaughters.
Immediately, Peggy introduced herself as Marty’s mother and invited her to assist in the dressing of brides.
“I feel a bit of a phony considering I would ordinarily be considered the mother of the groom, but I have to accept things are very different.”
“If you can’t handle dressing Georgie, might I suggest assisting with the bride’s-maids, there are six of them so there’s plenty of work.”
Lucy nodded, grateful that there was distraction enough for her to avoid any confrontation with Georgie though she glanced across the tables to where Dot, Peggy and the two wedding planners were now starting to fuss with both the brides. She shook her head softly and bit her lip but said nothing; though once the gowns were being worn, she had to secretly admit to herself that her child George (or Georgie, as she styled herself,) looked almost as beautiful as the real bride Marty.
Eventually, as the brides and bride’s-maids were nearly ready, the wedding cars arrived to wait outside ‘The Harbour Light.’
In the Bar, Dot, Sam, Peggy, and the wedding planners were making last minute adjustments to Marty’s dress.
“Will you stand still girl!” Peggy scolded Marty as she fiddled with the fasteners.
“It’s too tight!” Marty complained.
“Okay, we’ll let it out one more setting; it’s a good job the shop made the dress adjustable.”
“Sign of the times dears,” Sam chuckled as she and one of the planners put the finishing touches to Beth’s bride’s-maids gown.
“There, is that better?” The other planner asked Marty.
“Yeah, great and it doesn’t show,” Marty sighed as she turned to stroke her stomach in the mirror.
“Right girl, now get in the car.”
As Abbie and Andrea fussed with the bridal train, Marty’s dad gently eased her into the car and then carefully settled beside her. The bride’s maids then arranged themselves in the fourth car as Georgie led off with Trevor in the first car whilst Dot, Sam and Peggy entered the third car with Lucy.
At the litch-gate, the bridal procession arrived in reverse order at the beautiful but somewhat remote little country church where the vicar was waiting for them with her hand resting on the litch-gate and her bible under her arm. There the mothers and bride’s-maids emerged just before both bridal cars arrived simultaneously.
Next, the respective fathers stepped out while the bride’s-maids once again fussed with their charges. The vicar smiled and led the bridal procession into church then turned at the alter as both brides made their way up the aisle on their father’s arms while Jack waited at the alter with the wedding rings and Johnny acted as a somewhat superfluous usher.
There was a noticeable tension in the church as the vicar had to ask if anybody found just cause to prevent the wedding. Then an almost silent sigh of relief rippled down the church and finally filtered out through the porch as the vicar returned to the ceremony.
The wedding was brief, and the vicar smiled as Georgie and Marty each ringed the others’ finger, exchanged vows then turned to march down the aisle to the strains Lohengrin’s March. As they emerged into brilliant sunshine both Georgie and Marty scanned anxiously about but to their relief, there was no sign of Terry or Pete.
Then next they were lined up for the official photo-shoot and video footage before setting off back to ‘The Harbour Light.’ In the car both brides hugged each other as they arrived in the pub forecourt and the driver waited for the bride’s-maid’s car to pull in behind. Then the various sisters-cum-bride’s-maids bustled about to make Marty and Georgie presentable as the parents emerged from their cars.
Then the guests started to arrive, and the pub started to fill up as the wedding planners organised the tables. Eventually the vicar calmed the babble of voices and offered the prayers. This pleased the parents for despite the wedding involving two daughters, both Peggy and Lucy were secretly reassured to see their children ‘churched.’ Indeed, Marty was touched to see a brief teardrop in Peggy’s eye as the vicar said grace.
Eventually the meal was eaten and those that liked to dance and party, retired to the stable restaurant where the floor had been cleared for dancing.
As the dance celebrations got started Lucy looked to grab her opportunity to approach Marty about the little scene she had noticed when Peggy had been helping with the wedding gown.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
After Marty and Georgie had changed outfits with a view to departing on their honeymoon, they were coming out of their bedroom in ‘The Harbour Light’ when they encountered Lucy on the landing. It took Lucy all her courage to approach the pair, but the question had been bothering her all day.
“Excuse me please.” She asked tentatively.
Marty answered with an inquisitive eyebrow but no words. This served only to heighten Lucy’s fear whilst simultaneously strengthening her resolve. Georgie just glared but kept silent. She still felt resentment to the woman who had allowed her to be thrown out of home and family. Nevertheless, Lucy felt bound to persevere.
“I’m sorry but I feel bound to ask you something.”
Marty cocked her head slightly whilst repeating her eyebrow lift before finally responding.
“Go on.”
“Well. - Well, I couldn’t help but notice when your mother was helping you into your dress; you said it was too tight and I noticed the planner adjusting the waist.
Since then, I’ve been watching you all day and now you are wearing your honeymoon outfit, I can’t help but notice you have a slight bump. Are you pregnant?”
“Happen I might be,” Marty conceded. “What’s it to you?”
“But” then Lucy was lost for words.
Eventually she found her voice again even as Georgie and Marty were going downstairs to the bar. She called tentatively.
“Who’s the father?” She called after the pair.
Marty paused on the stair and turned to face Lucy.
“It’s not really any of your business since Georgie was thrown out of the family; but the truth is, Georgie’s the father.”
Marty threw this last remark over her shoulder after she had turned to continue down the stairs.
Lucy’s jaw sagged as she hurried down the stairs to ask further, but by then the brides were already engulfed by the happy throng of well-wishers who pressed forward as they struggled to reach their car.
Lucy cursed as she failed to reach the car before Georgie and Marty drove off down the narrow country lane. As she watched it round the bend and disappear from view, she turned to Trevor her ex-husband, who was standing by the litch-gate.
“Did you know that Marty is pregnant?”
“Is she?” Trevor shrugged. “It wouldn’t surprise me. I thought they might have been trying. How did you find out?”
“I point blank challenged her to tell me.” Lucy hissed angrily.
“Well, if she is, I’m sure she’ll tell us all in her own good time.”
“She said our George is the father.”
“Well, that’s as it should be, They’re a married couple now. I know for a fact that Georgie had her sperm frozen before transitioning, Dot helped with the expenses of the sperm bank when she adopted her.”
“Would Dot know anything about this now, - this, this pregnancy!?”
“If anybody knows anything, it’ll be Dot. She’s been like a mother to Georgie ever since she took her in.”
“But that means I am still the grandmother!” Lucy snapped.
“In blood only,” Trevor replied. “You told her she was no longer family then you let that brute Terry throw her out on the streets.
I only found out much later when Beth told me during my parental access visit. What you did was evil. She was literally living rough in those old dockside warehouses when they were derelict. Dot found her in a dirty sleeping bag curled up on some filthy old sacks and packing cases, so it speaks volumes about Dot’s compassion that she took my daughter in. But for Dot, my daughter, yes, you heard me! My daughter could be dead.”
Lucy ignored Trevor’s anger as she persisted in her own self-centred vein.
“I noticed she kept calling Dot mummy.”
“Are you surprised? Who else was there when she needed a mother?”
“Would Dot know if they are expecting a baby.”
“She would probably be among the first to find out, after all she helped George freeze his sperm when he was only sixteen. Anyway, it seems that’s water under the bridge now. If Marty’s told you she’s pregnant, then she almost certainly is. She’s never been a liar, nor has Georgie.
“Well, if Dot knows, she hasn’t told anybody.”
“There could be several reasons for that. Perhaps Dot knew that Marty and Georgie might want to keep it a secret; perhaps Dot concluded; rightfully in my opinion, that it was not for her or Sam to reveal Marty’s business. If Marty and Georgie didn’t want anybody to know, then Dot would most certainly respect that decision.
Now that you’ve seemingly found out that Marty is having a baby, it’s still of little or no concern to you. I’ve learned from Beth that you’ve even cut Georgie out of your will so it’s hardly surprising that Georgie and Marty are cutting all ties. You’ve pretty much lost Georgie and that probably means any grandchildren she might father.”
“She might father!” Lucy almost screeched, “There’s an oxymoron if ever I heard one!”
“Sign of the times dear lady, get over it!” Trevor smiled wryly. And left to rejoin the celebrations. Although guests were now leaving after the honeymooners had departed.
Eventually, a calm settled over ‘The Harbour Light’ as only the guests staying overnight remained.
As the bridal parents settled on the armchairs and sofas arranged around the bar’s large ‘inglenook’ fireplace, they fell to chatting. Being as Lucy was staying with Alison in their cottage across the dock, she was allowed the privilege of staying until late. During this gathering, Lucy brought up Marty’s pregnancy again.
“Did anybody else know that those two were having a baby?” She demanded.
For a brief moment there was silence then Dot spoke up.
“I suspected she was, it’s to be expected, they’ve made no secret of wanting children.”.
“Well, she confirmed it to me.” Lucy frowned somewhat petulantly. “I had to literally drag it out of her then she almost ran away from me.”
“It strikes me that she’s got some sort of agenda then,” Dot suggested.
“Or something to hide. How can I be sure it truly was my child’s sperm?”
“You’ll just have to take her word, though I can confirm that Georgie definitely deposited sperm at the bank!”
“We’ll just have to wait and see,” Peggy declared. “I for one believe it’s Georgie’s baby.
On this unsettling hiatus, the parents retired to their respective beds.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Dot and Sam 45
Jessica Merlot The town’ and county archaeologist.
Josephine MacDonald The town and county archivist.
Richard Drummond Town planning inspector
Robert Vincent. Junior planning inspector.
Georgina. (Georgie) Homeless Transgender girl previously known as George.
Bobby Gay boy on the school bus.
Marty Girl on the school bus. (She becomes Georgie’s best friend, lover, and wife)
Jack. Marty’s twin brother (Keen runner).
Trevor Aitkins, Georgie’s Biological father.
Lucinda Aitkins Georgie’s biological mother
Terence Georgie’s step-dad
Peter Terence’s homophobic son.
Allison Old friend of Trevor & Retired Solicitor
Fred Allison’s husband
Elizabeth Aitkins (Beth) Georgie’s younger biological sister. Later proves to be sympathetic to her ‘sister.’
Jonathon Aitkins (Johnny) Georgie’s younger biological brother.
Rosie the Rivetter Terf Gang Leader on campus.
Peggy Marty’s mother
Abigail, (Abbie) Marty’s younger sister.
Andrea Marty’s second (youngest) sister.
Gemma Beth’s stepsister.
Beryl Beth’s second stepsister.
Chapter 45
“I reckon she’s keeping her pregnancy a secret.” Marty giggled as she squeezed Georgie’s arm.
“Well, she seems to have the same enigmatic smile you had this morning when the waitress brought you ‘petite-déjeuner’.” Georgie grinned back.
“She’s certainly keeping something a secret.” Marty added.
“Yeh, like she’s about to tell old Leonardo that she’s pregnant by him.” Georgie smirked affectionately.
“I thought Leonardo was supposed to be gay.”
“That doesn’t stop men fathering children. Lots of gays have become fathers. Even trans-people these day.”
“Oooh! Listen to old clever clogs herself,” Marty chuckled. “Come on, my dogs are barking. Time for coffee I think.”
They crept along with the Louvre crowd until they found the museum exit then trudged down the Champ’s de Lyse to find a café that was not too crowded. Their search led them to a quieter, back-street café because Paris was just so-oo crowded.
“I won’t be coming here again,” Marty sighed over her coffee. Paris is bloody ridiculous.”
“It’s the same everywhere.” Georgie sympathised. The world’s becoming overpopulated.”
“There’s plenty of room elsewhere.” Marty argued.
“Yeah, but who wants to holiday in the middle of the Sahara. There’s not much to see there except some prehistoric rock paintings and sand art. Anyway, the planet’s only going to get worse. Amsterdam is already charging tourists to visit the city. Everybody wants to be in the same spot at the same time.”
“They’re gonna have to ration families to an average of two each.”
“Well, that makes us the criminals, now we know I’m having three,” Marty giggled.
“Not necessarily, I suppose normal multiple births make up for sterile marriages and people choosing not to have kids.”
After sitting for an hour with coffee and a light lunch, the pair resumed their tour of the French capital until they returned to their hotel. Marty flumped onto the bed and sighed luxuriously as they discussed what to do for the night.
“We’ve got nothing planned love; we’ve got tickets for the Moulin Rouge tomorrow night.” Georgie opined.
Marty stretched luxuriously on top of the bed and sighed again.
“Let’s just cuddle naked on the bed until we go down for supper. There’s a whole week to fill here.”
Georgie needed little persuasion.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
As she stirred in the morning, Georgie sensed a tickling sensation down her spine. The blare of a car horn had torn her from her sleep but as she gradually stirred, the added tickling sensation caused her to wriggle until she was forced to roll over and scratch her back. It was only then that she realised that Marty had found a feather and used it to wake her up.
“Stoppit!” She squeaked as she reached for offending wrist.
Marty giggled as she sat up and stepped towards the curtains. Then Georgie realised that Marty was not yet retching in the bathroom, and she sat up to ask.
“Have you not been sick?”
“Just a little bit nauseous but it’s gone now. I wasn’t sick.”
Georgie smiled as Marty turned from the window and the light silhouetted her. She noticed Marty’s very slight bump and chuckled.
“You look like something Botticelli might have painted with your little bump, and dimples on your bum.”
“Are you saying I’m getting fat?” Marty bristled.
“No!” Georgie replied to reassure her newly wedded wife.
Then she paused with a grin.
“Well, not yet anyway.”
Marty’s jaw sagged at Georgie’s remark.
“Why! You! You bloody chauvinist.” She swore as she thumped him semi-affectionately. “For that I’m going to demand that you contribute to breast-feeding our triplets so you can start taking prolactin when the time is right. Then we’ll see if your tits get big or your arse gets fat.”
“Is that a promise love? I’d quite fancy breast feeding my own children, - sort of as close to motherhood as I’d ever get.”
“Well, with triplets I’d never have enough milk for three, so you’d better prepare for action.”
“But seriously love,” Georgie, mean it. I’d love to share in Breast feeding.”
“Good we’ll discuss it with our doctor when we get home.”
With this thought in both their heads, they shared a shower and prepared for a days’ ‘touristry.’
“Mont Matre, I think today,” Marty suggested, “then we can do the artists centre and the Sacre Coure and have a coffee in the artists centre.”
“All day?” Georgie queried.
“As long as it takes but we have to be at the Moulin Rouge for eight.”
“Suit’s me darling, you’re the arts lover.”
Thus, they toured as they had planned; for the first week saturating themselves in Paris, a city of museums and galleries.
While they chose the second week to spend a peaceful relaxing week in the Dordogne.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
They returned home to meet Marty’s family as they stepped off the train while the early evening sun was starting to set. Having spent a fortnight in France, the pair felt a noticeable chill as they started to clamber into the car.
“You’re having a light tea here, then we’ll drive out to ‘The Harbour Light’ and you can recover from your journey.” Peggy assured them.
“All we’ve done is fly from France then two trains down from the airport. We’re hardly exhausted mummy.” Marty grinned as the hugs were still being shared around.
“Well, that’s what’s been arranged. Dot, Trevor, and Sam are at the pub.” Marty’s father added as he picked their way out of the station and into the town traffic.
It wasn’t long before the familiar lights of the pub welcomed them into the pub forecourt and once again Marty’s family tumbled out of the car to be greeted at the porch. Within moments they were in the pub where Dot and Sam had prepared dinner.
“Now we’re all here, you can tell us all about it.” Dot suggested as they took their seats around the large table in the Stable restaurant.
“Firstly, Marty confirmed that she was pregnant.”
“Yes!” Dot complained. Why didn’t you tell us first.”
“Well, I had intended to tell you once the pregnancy was confirmed and safe. The clinic doesn’t like to pre-empt any certainties with a multiple insemination.” Marty confessed. “I only told Lucy because I was angry with her for evicting Georgie, and I wanted to leave her stewing in shock for the whole of the honeymoon. Has she seen you since the wedding?”
“No,” Trevor confirmed, “but I believe she might be coming down to see Allison and Fred this weekend.”
“I suspect she wants to see you again. She’s all about being the grandmother.”
“We don’t really want to see her,” Marty declared as she glanced towards Georgie for confirmation.
Georgie nodded then declared.
“I’ll only see her if Beth, Johnny, Gemma, and Beryl come down as well. I’ve no interest in Terry or Pete.”
“He might try to stop his girls.” Dot opined.
“Then Lucy will never see me again or our children for that matter!”
“I’ll speak to her tomorrow.” Trevor assured them, and then they pitched into the meal.
Finally, after the story of the honeymoon was exhausted, Marty’s family returned home while Marty and Georgie went to what was now their marital bed.
They awoke to find the weak September sun breaking through the slight mist that covered the estuary. and Marty sat up to study the trees across the river.
“Autumn’s coming,” she murmured, “the trees are turning.”
“How’s the morning sickness?” Georgie asked.
“It seems to be over now, what are we doing today?”
“I think we’d best wait for any news of Lucy and the girls. I’m sure Beth and Johnny will come down, but it depends if my egg donor can get Beryl and Gemma down.”
“Were you serious about them being allowed to visit?”
“If that’s what it takes to create some sort of normal family; yes.”
Marty nodded as she padded to the bathroom while Georgie tidied the bed. Later as they finished breakfast, Georgie stepped towards the front door.
“I’m just going to see Dad before he goes off to Birmingham.”
“What about?” Marty asked.
“I’m going to ask him to telephone my egg donor to see if he can get her to send Beryl and Gemma down sometime. They should be allowed to see their step-sister whenever they want.”
“Why don’t you speak to her?”
“That’s still some time off. I still haven’t forgiven her. The Beryl and Gemma deal will be my first ‘toe-in-the-water’ test.”
“I think Lucy will agree, she’s desperate to be involved with these,” Marty patted her little ‘bump.’
“We’ll see,” Georgie finished as she left to cross the river-gate across the dock to Trevor’s cottage.
Although it was still early, she found her dad just putting his traveling overnight suitcase in the boot of his car and she only had a little time to talk briefly as Trevor prepared to leave.
“I can’t make any promises but bearing in mind her wish to be involved with the grandchildren, I think she’ll bust a gut to stop Terry’s shenanigans.”
Georgie nodded and gave her dad a wave as he set off for work, firstly in Birmingham then some places up t’ north. She returned to the pub to find Marty sorting through her notes preparatory to going in to the school. She knew that despite Marty’s pregnancy, she was dedicated to getting her science classes through their exams and this meant being well prepared from the very start.
She chatted about Marty’s birth dates and deduced that if everything went without any complications, Marty should complete the Christmas term with time enough to get the kids through their Christmas exams.
“What about Spring term? Are you taking maternity leave?”
“Probably, I know I’m entitled to a year’s maternity leave but I’ve cut a deal with the domestic science department. They usually have a girl or two who get themselves pregnant and have to bring their infants to school if they are to complete their exams. To this end, the Domestic Science (D.S.) Department has a creche were the young mothers and the other girls can learn mothering skills. I’ve already had girls asking if I’ll bring my babies to the creche.
“And?” Georgie raised both her eyebrows.
“If it works out, I will. Let’s not forget that it’s free as the school count’s the baby-care as lessons for the D.S. classes.”
“That’s handy.”
“More than handy, the school’s only a block away from the general hospital. Any emergencies, can be dealt with in minutes.”
As Marty enlightened her partner, they filled the car with all the teaching notes then Marty also left early for the start of the new term. Georgie watched the car disappear down the lane then turned to share a final coffee with Dot and Sam.
“Late start love?” Sam asked.
“Nah, I’m into Bristol first then GCHQ later. There’s a flyer that leaves Exeter at eight.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
For that whole week, Marty was preparing to start teaching for the Christmas term so by the Friday she felt she had the preparations down pat. On that weekend Beth and Johhny came down but Georgie and Marty were disappointed to see that Beryl and Gemma had not accompanied them.
“What happened, did step-daddy throw a fit?” Georgie asked Johnny.
“Sadly yes,” Beth confirmed. “Lucy and he were still having a row when we left; Gemma and Beryl looked really pissed about it.”
“So, they’ll miss the Friday and Saturday drag nights.”
“Not much we can do about it.” Beth shrugged. Terry’s still got custody and they’re still not turned eighteen yet.”
“What about just slipping away and getting a train to Bristol. We could meet them there.”
“These days, he keeps a tight rein on the money, and he’s become as mean as sin since Georgie ran away. He’s still generous about things he thinks are good or right, but he says he feels betrayed by Georgina’s abscondence. He watches his own daughters like a hawk, especially after he learned that they were bride’s-maids at your wedding.
Beryl and Gemma are always short of bunce now, but they hinted that if Lucy can spot them the train fares, they might be able to get away.”
“It sounds like a bloody prison.” Georgie remarked.
“He’s still seething about the wedding, for you all know he and that oaf Peter are perfect homophobes.”
“If he’s not careful, he’s going to lose both daughters just like Lucy lost you,” Sam observed from the kitchen.
“I dunn’o.” Georgie shrugged. “It’s not as though he’s violent to them, like he was to me.”
“There are other ways of bullying,” Beth opined, “and withholding pocket money is a pretty effective one.”
“So how do we get money to the two of them?” Georgie wondered.
“We could get Lucy to open a telephone banking account for the pair without Terry’s knowledge, then we could wire them money when they want to come down.” Beth explained as she showed Georgie her own telephone banking app.
“You’ll have to speak to Lucy about that,” Dot interjected, “but once again, you’ve got that emotional lever; your and Marty’s babies.”
Georgie let out a sigh as she conceded that Beth’s idea seemed a good one.
“Go on then little Sis, phone our egg donor and see if she’ll agree.
“Why me? Can’t you do it.” Beth protested mildly.
“Not yet.” Georgie smirked. “My no contact thing still has leverage and some distance to run.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Dot and Sam 46
Josephine MacDonald The town and county archivist.
Richard Drummond Town planning inspector
Robert Vincent. Junior planning inspector.
Georgina. (Georgie) Homeless Transgender girl previously known as George.
Bobby Gay boy on the school bus.
Marty Girl on the school bus. (She becomes Georgie’s best friend, lover, and wife)
Jack. Marty’s twin brother (Keen runner).
Trevor Aitkins, Georgie’s Biological father.
Lucinda Aitkins Georgie’s biological mother
Terence Georgie’s step-dad
Peter Terence’s homophobic son.
Allison Old friend of Trevor & Retired Solicitor
Jessica Merlot The town’ and county archaeologist.
Fred Allison’s husband
Elizabeth Aitkins (Beth) Georgie’s younger biological
sister
Jonathon Aitkins (Johnny) Georgie’s younger biological brother.
Rosie the Rivetter Terf Gang Leader on campus.
Peggy Marty’s mother
Abigail, (Abbie) Marty’s younger sister.
Andrea Marty’s second (youngest) sister.
Gemma Beth’s stepsister.
Beryl Beth’s second stepsister.
Chapter 46
While Georgie and Marty enjoyed the last full week of the school hols with Beth and Johhny, the weekend soon arrived, and Lucy turned up to stay with Allison and Fred at the dockside cottage.
As soon as she had placed her luggage in Allison’s guest bedroom, she invited them to go and share lunch at ‘The Harbour Light’ on her dollar.
“Very well,” Allison agreed, “but I don’t think any of the children are home. I saw them going for a walk earlier and sometimes they don’t get back until dusk if they’re watching the tides.”
“I see Trevor’s car is there.” Lucy observed.
Allison shrugged and soon they were crossing the dock gate to the pub.
In the bar, they met Trevor going through some harbour statistics and accounts with Dot, so Sam led them through to the stable restaurant and made them comfortable while they ordered lunch.
“Can you ask Trevor to join us please,” Lucy asked.
“I’ll ask but he’ll be a while,” Sam explained, “they’re doing the quarterly returns for the dock and the museum.”
“Okay, just ask him to join us when they’re through.” Lucy requested.
“Okay,” Sam replied as she took the order and stepped through into the bar.
“He’ll be about half an hour,” Sam explained when she returned to lay up their table.
As Sam returned to the kitchen, Lucy turned to Allison.
“He doesn’t seem keen to see us.”
“They’re busy, you saw the stack of receipts they had. It usually takes them an hour or two.” Allison explained.
Lucy frowned irritably then asked Allison.
Any news on these babies she’s having?”
“Everything’s going normally, they’re due in the new year, end of January I believe. One of each.”
Eventually, as the foursome were starting their desserts Trevor appeared and spoke briefly about their children Georgie, Marty, Beth and Johhny.
“They’ll be back along the estuary at five-ish, that’s when the tide allows.”
“It’ll be getting dark at six. Isn’t it dangerous then?” Lucy observed.
“That’s why they chose today.” Trevor finished, “Georgie knows the estuary well. She knows where some otters have been building a holt and the tide will be right to see them just before dusk. They hope to see the babies because Georgie’s friend the river warden has told them where they play.”
Lucy frowned slightly with concern.
“Is it safe to cross the estuary when dark is falling?”
“I suggest you don’t express any of your safety concerns to Georgie, she might not take kindly.”
“Why!” Lucy almost snapped.
Trevor gave her an ‘old’ look and turned to sip his beer as the four dug into their desserts. Lucy fell silent as she reflected.
‘If she had been a bit more concerned about George’s safety when Terry was being abusive to her transgendered son, then perhaps her child might not have run away.’
Lucy remained silent while the others finished their desserts then sha tentatively accompanied them to the sofas by the Inglenook fireplace. With the afternoon still young, they decided to go into town to do some shopping and return to ‘The Harbour Light’ at five-ish.
Eventually, they returned late to the pub at six and had settled again by the inglenook fireplace. Then, the pub started to fill up in anticipation of the Friday Night drag show. Lucy was glad she had stayed with her friends Allison and Fred because it secured her seat by the fireplace and that gave her an excellent view of the stage.
At seven, it was quite dark, and Lucy felt forced to ask Trevor if he had heard from George.
“You mean Georgie, don’t you?” Trevor replied. “Can you still not remember?”
Lucy pursed her lips irritably.
“All right then, Georgie. Have you still not heard from them?”
“No, I’ll ask Dot.”
However, even as Trevor was getting up to speak to Dot behind the bar, the front door opened, and four happy, muddy walkers trudged in. Dot looked across the bar and was about to order them to shed their boots, but Georgie and Marty’s training had already clicked in and the four stopped inside the porch to disrobe.
Once free of their muddy boots and kagouls, Dot allowed them upstairs to change, while Billy the doorman kindly removed the mud splattered overclothing to the cloakroom cum utility room that was destined to become a dedicated changing room for Sam’s drag shows.
When the four returned Lucy was a little peeved to see them dressed for work, but the pub was still fairly quiet so the four joined Trevor on his side of the inglenook fireside circle. Lucy glanced across and frowned at the clear demonstration of favouritism that all four had shown Trevor.
She had hoped to somehow break a little of the ice between her and Georgie, but her child had clearly demonstrated that the gulf still remained. Fortunately, Fred, Allison’s husband, had sensed the tension and started the conversation by asking about the otters. This immediately led to discussions about the baby otter cubs and inevitably, the conversation about babies led to Marty’s babies.
Lucy already knew that she was persona-non-grata with regards to Georgie’s ‘yet-to-be-born’ children, so she was grateful that Trevor had the wit to ask tactfully what the progress was with the babies.
Marty and Georgie had still not revealed that she was expecting a third baby through the female egg splitting, so everybody was still anticipating twins. Marty and Georgie wanted it that way until the birth, Even Dot and Sam were not privy to the surprise.
However, despite the fact that Georgie did not exchange one word with Lucy all night, at least she learned of the pregnancy’s progress by just listening to the others. That night as she slept in Allison’s cottage, Lucy wept for the hurt she had caused her transgender child.
For a woman obsessed with children and grandchildren, not having a shared input into her first grandchildren’s arrival was the biggest hurt of all.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The situation between Georgie and her bio-mother Lucy continued all through Marty’s pregnancy; not least because not communicating with Lucy, served Georgie and Marty’s wish to keep the triplets a secret. However, as the Michaelmas term’s end approached it became apparent Marty was finding the last trimester heavy going.
At the end she was virtually bench-bound and simply sat on a raised chair while a temporary lab assistant set up the experiments when needed. This young man was a graduate physics student doing his ‘teacher, training course. Marty was exhausted when the end-of-term exams were completed, and she virtually shut down after the marking was completed.
At ‘The Harbour Light’ Marty’s hugely distorted bump caused concern amongst her family but the myth of there being only twins still served to divert questions about her size. Even Marty’s well experienced mother Peggy, was still under the illusion that ‘it-was-twins,’ and she never once thought to ask to see the natal scans.
Inevitably, the day arrived a week early when Marty went into early-morning labour and Georgie drove her to the hospital. As they arrived at the maternity section, Marty was relieved to see her regular team of doctors waiting ready to quickly whisk her up to the delivery suite. There, as she lay on the bed, she was already needing to push with labour pains.
The sun was ‘past- the-yardarm’ when Marty eventually delivered the third child and Peggy was finally allowed to visit both parents in the maternity ward.
Marty was asleep so Peggy was denied the delight of joyously embracing her daughter, instead, she kissed her sleeping daughter on the forehead, then hugged Georgie before she turned to inspect the twins. In her excitement upon entry to the ward, she had initially not realised that there were three cribs aligned between the bed and the opposite wall. It was only as she turned to inspect them that she almost fell backwards as she gasped and grabbed Georgie’s hand.
“There’s three!” She almost shrieked.
“Your maths is good.” Georgie grinned ecstatically as his eyes fell upon the waking Marty.
“Mmmph, hullo mum,” Marty mumbled sleepily as she stirred.
“Oh my God! Why didn’t tell us?”
“Surprise, surprise!” Marty squeaked feebly as she reached out to receive her rightful hug.
For several moments, Peggy remained stupidly dumb with her arms wrapped tight around Marty before she recovered enough to go and inspect the trio.
“A grand-son and two grand-daughters!” Peggy exclaimed as she gently fingered the baby’s bonnets.
“Yes,” Marty explained, “the daughters are identical twins, their egg split during the germinal stage.”
Peggy’s stupid grin then dissolved into tears of delight as she once again, reached to hug her daughter. Eventually she released her embrace and asked.
“Can I hold them?”
“Of course you can, take your pick.”
Peggy paused momentarily as she turned sheepishly to Marty.
“Which one, I don’t want you to think I’ve got a favourite.”
Marty snorted with amusement. “Oh, for heaven’s sake Nan. Just grab the nearest.”
“Nan! Nan! Me, a nan; a grandma no less.” She grinned as she reached into a crib. And asked. “Any thoughts on names?”
Marty and Georgie grinned at each other as they faced Peggy.
“Ooh lots. Where to start we wonder.”
Peggy’s grin faded slightly with concern.
“I hope you’re going to be sensible.”
“Don’t worry Nan, we’ve already chosen.” Georgie let her words hang as she savoured the impatient frown clouding Peggy’s countenance.
“Well?! Stop messing with me.”
“Don’t be impatient mummy,” Marty gently scolded her mum. “When all the interested parties are here, we’ll reveal all.”
“Tsk!” Peggy tutted, “You’re playing with me now!”
“Not really, it’s only right that everybody gets a fair crack of the whip!” Georgie countered. “You’re just going to have to be patient!”
“So, when will that be?” Peggy sighed.
“Saturday morning when everybody’s able to come.”
“Who do you mean by everybody?” Marty pressed.
“Immediate family, blood and adoptive.” Georgie announced softly.
“D’you mean Lucy and co as well.” Marty queried concernedly.
“Warts an’ all.” Marty replied somewhat overemphatically.
Surprised, Peggy turned to Georgie and asked.
“Are you okay with this?”
“My beef with Lucy is not the grand-children’s beef.” Georgie explained. “Marty want’s her children to have all the grand’s that they’re entitled to. Who am I to disallow that?”
“That’s a change of tune, isn’t it?” Peggy continued.
Georgie shrugged resignedly before admitting.
“I can’t forgive her, but if I maintain ‘no-contact’ with my egg-donor there’s no knowing where that will lead with Beth and Johnny. I’ll just hang back and see where it leads.”
“Does Lucy know about the triplets?”
“No. Not to my knowledge, she can find out on Saturday morning, if she chooses to come.”
“You will be telling her though, - about Saturday.”
“I will let her know to come,” Marty interjected. “Probably on Thursday or Friday.”
“She won’t be pleased to learn she’s second fiddle.” Peggy advised. “You know, what with us and Dot and Sam all knowing.”
“If she want’s full family privileges, she’ll have to earn them. She split my family every which way, so she’ll have to work at repairing the breaches.”
At this juncture the paediatrician returned first to confirm that all three babies were healthy though slightly underweight, then she wanted to run some extra tests. To this end she was accompanied
By another doctor who was involved in a series of tests concerning multiple births.
She asked a series of questions to confirm that there had been no hormonal fertility treatments and Marty looked slightly askance,
“Both babies were in vitro implanted, but the eggs and sperm were our own; produced naturally, though Georgie’s sperm was frozen.
I’m a twin though, I’ve got a brother, Jack. The girls of course divided at the germinal stage. They’re identical.
“That’s interesting,” the researcher observed, “would you like to join my research group. It’s mostly a genetic program with occasional follow-ups through their childhood years?”
Marty glanced questioningly at Georgie who shrugged as she nodded slightly.
“I can’t see any harm, I’m all for science.”
The researcher smiled appreciatively and left to return with a trolley carrying blood sampling kits.
As Peggy, Georgie and Marty were each now ‘playing’ with the new-borns Trevor finally appeared at the door to the ward after having hurried back from town on being told of Marty’s labour.
Naturally, he rushed to his favourite daughter-in-law and hugged her even as he realised there were three babies.
“What the!” He gasped as he stared uncomprehendingly.
“Yes dad, triplets and all ours!” Georgie almost crowed victoriously.
“But! I thought twins, I-“
“Surprise, surprise!” Marty cackled with delight, “which one d’ you want to hold first?”
“But I only bought two baby-cups: boy and girl, what’s the third.”
“We’ve got another grand daughter Trev!” Betty declared joyously as she handed the third bundle to him.
Trevor sat on the bed as he recovered from the surprise, then the questions flew like wild-fire as everybody started talking at once. It was Georgie who brought some order as she declared.
“We’ve decided on names but not until Saturday when we gather at the Harbour light.”
“I hope they’re sensible.” Trevor ventured.
“Don’t worry dad, they are.” Georgie assured them, “now if you don’t mind, Marty and I wish to feed them. Can you leave us in peace for an hour or so.”
“I want to see you feeding them,” Peggy declared. “That’s a grandmother’s right.”
“Yeah, well if you do, prepare for a surprise,” Georgie cautioned as she started to unbutton, her bra.
Trevor’s eyes widened as he finally realised.
“Wha-a! Are you going to feed them as well?”
Marty and Georgie chuckled together as they simultaneously prepared for action while Trevor turned away with slight embarrassment. Even Peggy was taken aback as she squeaked questioningly.
“You’ve got milk?”
“You bet!” Georgie grinned as she latched her son onto her breast,
Both Trevor and Peggy just gaped with amazement as Marty followed suit after pressing the feeding clock with three dials.
“This will help us to keep track.” Marty beamed. “We won’t stick rigidly to a timetable, but it helps us keep track.
Both Trevor and Peggy just wagged their heads with delight as they lost their embarrassment and stared at their daughters.
“Who’d have thunk it?” Peggy chuckled.
“Not me, that’s for sure,” Trevor concurred. “I need a cup of tea!”
“Go and see the nurses,” Marty explained. “They’ve got their own little night-watch kitchen come pantry by their nursing station. All you have to do is share with the costs. You know, milk and sugar and stuff.”
“Of course!” Trevor hastened to agree as he took the opportunity to recover his composure amidst all the flesh.
Marty, Georgie and Peggy grinned as they watched him scuttle away.
“Poor dear,” Peggy chuckled, “he’ll soon get used to it.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Dot and Sam 47
Josephine MacDonald The town and county archivist.
Richard Drummond Town planning inspector
Robert Vincent. Junior planning inspector.
Georgina. (Georgie) Homeless Transgender girl previously known as George.
Bobby Gay boy on the school bus.
Marty Girl on the school bus. (She becomes Georgie’s best friend, lover, and wife)
Jack. Marty’s twin brother (Keen runner).
Trevor Aitkins, Georgie’s Biological father.
Lucinda Aitkins Georgie’s biological mother
Terence Georgie’s step-dad
Peter Terence’s homophobic son.
Allison Old friend of Trevor & Retired Solicitor
Jessica Merlot The town’ and county archaeologist.
Fred Allison’s husband
Elizabeth Aitkins (Beth) Georgie’s younger sister
Jonathon Aitkins (Johnny) Georgie’s younger brother.
Rosie the Rivetter Terf Gang Leader on campus.
Peggy Marty’s mother
Abigail, (Abbie) Marty’s younger sister.
Andrea Marty’s second (youngest) sister.
Gemma Beth’s stepsister.
Beryl Beth’s second
James. Marty’s Dad.
Dot and Sam 47
As Georgie and Marty each sat nursing a triplet each, Peggy took the bottle with the third triplet and settled into the third chair that the nurses had thoughtfully provided. That is how Trevor found them when he returned with a teapot and tray of cookies, followed by the paediatrician and the midwifery sister.
The sister grinned as she scanned the nursing trio and commented.
“Well, you all seem to have got the first stage right.”
Peggy snorted with amusement as she cocked an eyebrow.
“I’ve had four of these love, so my girls are in good hands as are these three little grandkids.”
The paediatrician grinned widely as she opened the files.
“I can see that, so I’ll just run the usual tests and a couple of special ones for the programme. Sister has told me you’re on board with our research.”
Marty nodded affirmation for everybody then she explained to the paediatrician what the midwives already knew about the triple birth.
“We’re having a reveal party on Saturday when the rest of the families will learn about the triplets. The family still think we’ve had twins. Though my dad is due in tonight because he works away, so he’ll have to be in on the secret when he arrives.”
With that issue sorted, the family nursed and watched as the paediatrician ran her tests and took samples. Trevor busied himself with the tea and biscuits and soon the feeding session was over. It was only then that the girls learned that Trevor had organised a family suite so Peggy and Georgie could overnight until the babies went home.
As Saturday morning arrived, the family phone-lines were red hot as preparations were completed for, mothers , triplets, one grandmother, (Peggy) and one grandfather , (Trevor) to make their farewells to the hospital staff. Trevor and Georgie then ferried the family to ‘The Harbour Light’ inn where Dot, Sam and Marty’s father James had gathered for the first phase of the grand arrival.
Allison and Fred quickly showed up as soon they looked out of their cottage window and saw the new family driving up the road to the pub.
“Hurry up Fred!” Allison chided her husband as they hurried across the dock to follow Marty and Georgie into the pub.
Dot, Sam and James, (Marty’s father,) were the first to be gob-smacked as they realised that Trevor, Peggy and Georgie were carrying not two but three bassinettes into the pub.
There was a stunned silence before Dot, Sam and James all started babbling at once until the ‘ever practical’ Peggy brought the cackle to silence. As the silence reigned Alison and Fred entered the pub just as Peggy savoured announcing the delightful surprise.
“Yes! There’s three!” She declared as she took one of the daughters and handed her to Dot.
Georgie and Marty also followed suit by handing the remaining son and daughter to Sam and James.
“Well, you’re a dark horse!” Marty’s father James chuckled as he cradled his first grandson.
Dot and Sam continued to remain silent and gob-smacked for long moments as they relished the babies in their arms, until finally, they recovered their composures and, like James , demanded to know long Marty had known there were three.
“At the end of the first semester,” Marty chuckled as Georgie grinned like a cheshire cat who had eaten the cheese as well.
“Why you pair of minxes!” Dot squealed as she checked the other girl.
“Are these two twins?”
“Yes,” Georgie announced, “Can’t you tell? They’re identical!”
Dot looked up from inspecting her baby and comparing it with the one in Sam’s arms. Then she reflected.
“Yes, I suppose they’d have to be identical twins if they’re from the same egg.”
“Dare I ask? Have you chosen names for them?” Sam pressed.
“Provisionally; yes.” Marty replied. “Having the twin girls has taken all the heat out of the issue.”
“And?” Dot raised a questioning eyebrow.
“We’ll be revealing all when my family turn up,” Georgie explained, “they should be here about lunch time.
“Who’s coming?” Dot inquired, then added, “I’ll need to set places for the festive lunch.”
Trevor answered because he had contacted his ex-wife and spoken to his children.
“Lucy for certain, plus Beth and Johnny, she also confirmed that the stepchildren Gemma and Beryl have demanded to see the children. So that’s five but Lucy wasn’t sure if Terry or Peter were coming.”
“They won’t be welcome, but the others are. We’ll have to phone Lucy and get her to dissuade the homophobes if they’re with them.” Georgie observed then continued, “who’s coming from your side Babes?”
Marty listed the siblings then suggested a couple of cousins might have taken it upon themselves to invite themselves.
“There’ll be my twin brother Jack of course, he’ll be driving, then there’ll be Abigail and Andrea my younger sisters,” then Marty turned to her mum Peggy,
“If this is going to be a twin thing, we should invite your twin sister Bridget and her twin daughters, my cousins Veronica and Kathy.”
“Aye,” James remarked. “Twins don’t run in our family, they bloody gallop!”
With that Dot chuckled.
“We’ll set a table for twenty and see how it goes! Then I’ll ask Charlotte if she can rustle up a couple of extra hands. She tells me there are girls from the town always asking for work. Is there anybody else?”
There was a satisfied silence, and the party settled in the bar to await the arrival of the various family branches. During this interval, the party atmosphere naturally grew louder, particularly when Jack and the remainder of Marty’s family arrived.
Peggy naturally fell to hugging her Twin sister Bridget while the cousins cooed and clucked over the new additions to their clan.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Eventually, while champagne corks were popping and the mood was joyous, a spectre appeared at the entrance to the Bar that immediately caused a silence to settle over the crowd. Georgie immediately sensed the change, and she immediately recognised the hated, familiar countenance of the bitch who had condemned her to the streets but seven years earlier.
Brooking absolutely no argument, Georgie immediately laid down the law before her egg-donor had a chance to speak.
“You are not really welcome, but I will allow you to see your grandchildren on this occasion. Is that brute you married with you?”
“You mean Terence.”
“Who else?”
“He’s in the car.”
“He can stay there, are Beth and Johnny here?”
“Yes.”
“They are more than welcome to see their nieces and nephew. What about Gemma and Beryl, dad said they wanted to see them.”
“Well, they can obviously see the babies and they, like Beth and Johnny, will always be welcome at this door. You, however, will be expected to make an appointment unless we invite you to events like birthdays , or later on if your grandchildren ask to see you.”
As Georgie laid down these conditions, she realised that she had inadvertently revealed the triplets existence, but Lucy had failed to notice. It did not matter however, for Beth, Johnny, Gemma and Beryl had already tumbled out of the car and were literally running to the pub door, bent on seeing the twins, - as they thought.
Georgie gave one last instruction to her egg-donor as she turned to re-enter The Harbour Light.
“You can suggest to Terry and Peter that they can go into town and get themselves a meal and you can call him when you’re ready to leave.”
“He want’s to see the babies.”
“No way!” Georgie declared angrily. “He doesn’t want to see me, so why does he want to see the babies? For all I know he might try to harm them; like he did me!”
Lucy glared at her daughter and phoned her husband Terence as she stood in the porch of the pub. Then as she turned to go inside Beth came hurtling out and almost knocked Lucy off her feet.
Lucy let a whoosh of breath as Beth never stopped while almost accusing her sister.
“You crafty cow! Why didn’t you tell us there were three?”
Georgie just grinned as Beth flung her arms around her.
“Three?” Lucy screeched.
“Yes!” Beth replied excitedly. “Go and look for yourself!”
Lucy stared almost stupidly at Georgie as Beths words sank in.
“You said there were twins, invitro fertilisation.”
“They were, - until the girly egg decided to split. Then we found out we were having triplets. Identical daughters and a son. I suggest you go and look, that’s what you came for isn’t it?”
For a moment, Lucy stood shocked and then a tear came to her eye as she realised just how much she must have hurt Georgie for her to have even kept the news of triplets a secret from her own mother.
As she recovered her composure she span and almost burst through the pub door as she erupted into the bar.
“Where are - ? Ah there!” she cried as she spied the three bassinettes lying empty as her children nursed their nieces and nephew.”
“You should have said!” She almost snapped at Marty.
“You know precisely why we didn’t!” Marty replied calmly but firmly. “What goes around, comes around.”
Lucy was about to scream at her daughter in law but thought better of it. Instead, she submissively asked if she could hold one.
“You’ll have to wait your turn, then we’ll sit down to dinner. Just remember, you’re on probation.”
Lucy wanted to curse Georgie for being so callous towards hi- no, her own mother. Instead, the baleful glare she wanted to transfix Georgie with, turned into a resentful, tearful sulk.
Georgie still refused to relent and just fixed her egg donor with a hard, flat stare for the hurt still burned within her.
It was Dot who took it upon herself to guide Georgie away from her egg donor and made her take her place at the head of the long double table while Marty tactfully took the other head seat adjoining. Then the others took their places as directed by Sam while the staff started serving the champagne, Lucy found herself at the very bottom end of the table but she was far too remorseful to protest.
The champagne left a bitter-sweet taste in Lucy’s throat as the toast to the triplet’s births was made.
Eventually the dinner was finished and Marty declared that the names for the children were to be revealed.
After a brief introduction and a couple of Jokes, Marty revealed all.
“So everybody, “ Marty continued after the introductions, “putting all jokes aside, Georgie and I decided to go the conventional route with their names. Our son is to be named after both grandfathers and that will be Trevor James with the conventional sir-name of Aitkins like his father and paternal grandfather.
The blessings of twin daughters gave us a heaven-sent opportunity to set aside any enmity between siblings so, despite the abiding hurt between Georgie and her biological mother, I was admant that the children’s names could never be used as some sort of weapon to perpetuate animosity down the generations.
Henceforth the righthander twin – yes, we’ve already determined that the twins are left and right-handed,- will be called Margaret, Dorothy after Peggy and Dot while the left-handed twin will be called Lucinda, Samamtha after Lucy and Sam. So far we have not managed to find any distinguishing between the girls save for the left, and right handed, thing.
So, there it is. Whatever rifts that might exist in our generation, there is no cause for those troubles to carry over into the next.
Finally, I want everybody to charge their glasses for the second time this evening and toast to the enduring health of these three babies.”
There was a pronounced murmur of agreement from all around the table while a small, choked sob escaped from the bottom end of the table. It was hardly audible amidst the chink of toasting champagne glasses but Marty heard it and realised she was destined always to have to serve as an interlocuter between Georgie and Lucy.
As the party finally finished, Trevor found himself next to Lucy who had sought him out in the hope of starting a peace negotiation. Trevor put it plain and simply to Lucy.
“I suggest you work with Marty. That way you’ll get to see your grandchildren. I’m afraid Georgie’s a lost cause for you, so let sleeping dogs lie.
The End