Characters.
Ellie. (Eleanor) The prime Character.
Bill (William) her father, (obviously)
Calli (Callista) Ellie’s only daughter. Initially Callum - a transgendered son.
Charlotte. (Nana) Ellie’s Paternal Grandmother
Sandie (Sandra) Ellie’s Older Aunt
Rosie (Rose) Ellie’s Younger Aunt
Henry Ellie’s boyfriend and husband. (Second son of the Duke of Denton)
Molly Duchess of Denton. Henry’s mother.
Bev (Beverly) Ellie’s aunt (Previously Uncle Bernard and brother to her dad.)
Lucy, Henry’s oldest niece, Callum’s cousin.
Eleanor, Henry’s middle niece Callum’s cousin. Same name as Ellie.
Virginia Henry’s youngest niece Callum’s cousin
Julie Ellie’s sister-in-law.
Angela(Angie) Beverly’s wife (kidnapped by pirates and rescued.)
Megan Beverly’s only blood daughter by Angela.

.

Chapter 1.

“Aren’t you pleased Ellie, two A-stars, three A’s and a B, you’re made girl. Is it Cambridge then?” One of the other girls asked.

“Yessss! I hope so!” Ellie squealed.

After the requisite round of ecstatic hugs and squeezes amongst her class mates, Ellie folded the result paper and tucked it into her bag before
starting for home. After a couple of blocks she paused and leant against the very same wall where she had first learned of her mother’s cancer. Over a year ago her father had unusually met her outside the school with tearful eyes to tell her that her mother had been diagnosed with cancer.

The big ‘C’! Glaioblastoma Multiform grade 4; the worst possible kind of tumour; incurable and fatal. Six months later just a few weeks before her mock A-level exams, Ellie and her father had stood at the grave side each tearfully dribbling a handful of soil onto the coffin. To Ellie’s consternation, she had not noticed the big pebble that had somehow got mixed with the soil in her hand - until it clunked and rattled on the coffin like some ghastly knell. It had taken Ellie hours to get the sound out of her head and even now, the sound sometimes came back to haunt her.

The last few months with her mother had been unimaginably desperate for Ellie but her father and paternal grandmother had rallied around to nurse her and spare Ellie the desolation of watching her mother slowly fading. Every day her dying mother had beseeched Ellie.
‘Don’t worry about me; just study hard and make me and your dad proud of you. Don’t give up your studies girl, Cambridge is yours if you work at it, don’t ever give up.’

And that’s how it had been. Studying had become Ellie’s way of handling the grief, of avoiding the despair that would otherwise have destroyed her.

After learning her results, the next step had been to speak to the head-master and confirm if her place at Cambridge was still open. She stood in his office while he picked up the phone and his smile as he spoke told Ellie what she had been praying for. After a hug and congratulations the headmaster stepped very much out of character and declared.

“You’re our first Oxbridge state scholar success we’ve had here for over ten years, and my first in the two years since I became headmaster. I’m determined we’ll have many more. Your success is also my success so please share a glass of champagne with me.”

Ellie gaped a little stupidly then nodded vigorously while he picked up the school interphone before turning to her again.

“I think there are a couple of others who would like to share this delightful moment. Mr Bentnik, your maths teacher and the three science teachers. Would you like to share this toast with them?”

“What about Mrs Thomas the geography teacher?”

“Ah yes, of course, how stupid of me, an ‘A’-star in Geography as well. That was a real bonus.”

After a brief wait Ellie’s five favourite teachers joined them in the headmaster’s study and she savoured an adult moment as they toasted her success and the teacher’s efforts. Once the little ceremony was completed and the congratulations completed, Ellie prepared to take her news home.

As she left the school, she had very mixed emotions. She could not help but choose exactly the same route she had taken a year ago when she had learned of her mother’s final moments. The memory had now returned to burn hot within her. Her mother’s words ached within her as tears forced their way to her eyes and compelled her to stop at the exact place her father had met her with the devastating message. It was a private place, a small recess just off the street that her father had chosen deliberately so that Ellie could release the tears in private on that brutal afternoon.

Now, as she leant against the familiar wall, the dam burst again and she slumped helplessly against the corner recess as she cursed the god who had stolen her mum. The bastard grinning up there in some supposed heaven while she, Ellie was left to soldier on without her mum ever learning of her magical grades and the promise of a place at Britain’s most prestigious university.

That afternoon Ellie lost what little faith she had left. After releasing her tears in the cul-de-sac, she chose to continue home alone and walked by a different route. With her own feelings in shreds, she could not face the intensity of emotions from her classmates as each of them dealt with the success or disappointment of their own results.

Because she was late, her father was already home from work. He was seriously concerned and his fears were compounded as he watched her walking down the pavement. Through the bay window he studied the daughter that so much reminder him of his wife; her walk, her hair, her smile and particularly her face and the shape of her jaw. He saw that she had been crying and assumed she had failed; ‘hardly surprising when all things were considered,’ he thought.

As he watched, he struggled to contain his feelings and he forced himself to prepare for the worst news ... a fail - because of the awful traumas of the final year. He tried to smile as she spotted him watching her while she flipped open the gate latch with a practised ease. As her key turned in the lock, he swallowed nervously as he pitched his voice softly in what he hoped was a suitable tone as he formed the question.

“How did it go Darling?”

She smiled, almost wistfully.

“I’ve passed, I’m in!”

It was impossible for her dad to hide his joy and his relief as he reached out and she slid easily into his embrace. He reflected as she squeezed tight.

‘Even the smell of her hair resembled her mother.’

Swallowing again to try and destroy the lump he asked further.

“So it’s definitely Cambridge?”

“Yes! I’ve won a state scholarship.”

The way she said it, so ‘matter-of-factly’, seemed bizarrely, to somehow compound the enormity of those simple words. They opened up such a huge world of immeasurable opportunity, incalculable potential. Pride struck her father dumb but Ellie failed to notice as a more important issue pre-occupied her thoughts.

“Can we go to mum’s grave?”

“Of course,” he replied almost blinded by his own tears.

They drove in silence; each bound up in their own thoughts as he picked his way through the traffic. When they reached the cemetery, the attendant was just closing the large double gates but the pedestrian gate would remain open until eight so he parked the car in the roadside bay and they linked arms as they approached the grave. There they took their usual positions and each kept their own silent vigil either side of the headstone. There were no flowers; her mother had always maintained that flowers looked best growing in the garden and not dying in a vase.

This visit was unusually long and her father waited patiently as she fussed somewhat un-necessarily with some weeds at the foot of the headstone. Finally, reluctantly he spoke.

“Come on now darling. It’s beginning to rain.”

Ellie paused then slowly rose off her knees to stand and finger the headstone one last time.

“She liked the rain dad, it made her garden grow.”

“I know but it looks as though we’re going to get soaked if we don’t leave now.”

Ellie lingered a little longer and her father became fretful.

“Come on darling, here it comes.”

“Can I stay a bit longer please dad. Somehow the rain seems right.”

Her father understood his daughter’s feelings. She was right, somehow the rain did seem appropriate and it set the sombre mood of their mutual thoughts.

The first heavy droplets arrived and splashed off the headstone against Ellie’s face causing her to wince but she still stood silent and reflective.

Soon both of them were soaked through and her father indicated that he was returning to the car. Ellie nodded.

“Just give me a few more minutes’ dad.”

He understood her feelings and returned to the car pausing only once to watch his daughter standing still as a statue as the rain hammered down.

Still Ellie felt forced to linger as she read the gravestone one last time. Eventually the downpour started to chill her saturated bones and she returned to the warmth of the waiting car.

“Thanks dad. I needed that moment.”

“We should have brought an umbrella; it’s been threatening rain all afternoon.”

Ellie did not reply. Her dad often resorted to small talk when he was full up and this visit had been particularly poignant for both of them. Her mum was where Ellie got her brains and the spectacular exam results had been just one more reminder to her dad of the qualities of the wife he had lost.

At home the news of Ellie’s success was quickly spread through the family. Ellie’s aunts and her father had never been particularly close but an event as big as Ellie’s success was thought worthy of a very rare family get-together. Like the previous family get-togethers, the reunion was slightly strained however and Ellie sensed the underlying tensions that seemed to her to be driven by jealousy. She was relieved when it was over and she returned home with her dad from the hotel.

A week later the letter arrived confirming her place at Cambridge and Ellie was plunged into a thousand tasks preparatory to going up to college.

“So you’re nor taking a year out then?” Her father wondered.

For Ellie the idea of going up to college held far more excitement than going away for a whole year. A year spent travelling around a world that could be studied just as effectively on-line, would seem more like a year wasted compared with a year reading maths and physics as a double degree. She entered college with one driving desperate ambition and that was to gain her degree. Once that qualification was gained, she
would have fulfilled her promise to her mum and only then would she feel free to explore her life's options. Another advantage to attending Cambridge was that her grandmother lived in the city. Although she would be living in, there was always the delight of visiting her Nan whenever the fancy took her.

Throughout that summer, Ellie indulged in a round of socialising and clubbing for her father had emphatically declared that if she was not taking a sabbatical year, then she damned well wouldn’t have to work to make extra money for the college years. The state scholarship and an educational endowment would see to that. Finally the autumn arrived and Ellie went up to college.

~o0o~

Entering the college for the first time proved to be something of an anti-climax. Ellie had anticipated a buzz of excitement but it proved to be more OF a grind as it took several journeys up winding stairs before all her stuff was stowed in her room. She was to learn later that there were porters for such activity and she felt embarrassed by the extent of her ignorance. It set a tone for the first few weeks of her time as she found herself isolated amidst a veritable city state of young people sprinkled with the odd tutor or professor. Towards the middle of that first term she began to wonder if she was doing things right for it seemed to her the work was easy. She had expected a hard endless grind of equations and theories. It was not so, for she found herself spending what seemed to be inordinately long periods in what felt like idle contemplation. It was only when she started getting back her essays and work results that she realised she was holding her own, in fact, more than her own.

Eventually she found the courage and confidence to ease off from her intensive routine and slowly emerge from her self-imposed academic cocoon.

The notices for the first end-of-term Christmas ball caught her eye and a quick check of her finances revealed she could afford not only a ticket but also a new gown to attend the ball. Nothing fancy mind; just a simple body hugging sheath bought from a local boutique. Thus she indulged herself but she was disappointed to discover that most of the male students were the ‘Hooray Henrys’ she had been warned against.

One big surprise was to see a score of transvestites exercising their newfound right to indulge their peccadilloes. In fact the tee-girls seemed to be the only sober males and they were essentially enjoying their own company. Ellie presumed they were gay for most of the time they were dancing amongst themselves and giggling hysterically at their own private jokes.

Her biggest surprise however was their seeming invasion of the ladies lavatories without the slightest signs of inhibition or embarrassment. Ellie had just completed her needs and was repairing her lipstick as they entered. Her gasp of surprise went either un-noticed or unmentioned as they first completed their calls and then emerged from the cubicles to do exactly as she was doing, namely fixing their faces and adjusting their beautiful dresses.

Then Ellie noticed one of the trans-girls take a pair of hair straighteners from her overly large bag and start some remedial work on her various friend’s hairstyles. Ellie watched the tee-girl’s skilful handiwork then found herself checking her own hair and wondered if she dare ask for similar help. The atmosphere amongst the tee-girls seemed so relaxed that she ventured the question.

“My hair’s a bit of a mess. Could you help me?”

One of the girls gave a knowing grin.

“Of course love, do you want me to fix it properly for you?”

“Oh yes please! Thank you?” She croaked huskily as nervousness tightened her throat.

The tee-girl smiled a brilliant smile.

“Just let me finish Jessica and Lucile’s hair and I’ll sort yours darling.”

“Oooh that would be wonderful thank you. Are you a hair-dresser then?”

“Good god no! No darling I’m a first year biochemist, they don’t teach hairdressing at Cambridge. What are you reading?”

“First year, maths and physics double degree.” Ellie replied for once feeling proud and unapologetic as she started to find herself at ease. “Where did you learn to do hair?”

“It’s not rocket science darling. If I can eviscerate a rabbit then hair is easy.” The trans-girl giggled as her friends responded similarly.

“Stop frightening the poor girl Jackie. She'll think your Sweeny Todd or something.”

Ellie slowly found herself infected by the atmosphere of hilarity and remained chuckling at the constant repartee. Eventually her turn came around and the tee-girls gathered around her to discuss hairstyles and techniques as Jackie set to work. Ellie was amazed by Jackie’s speed and creativity as she dexterously wound the curling wand then repeatedly delved into her large bag and produced various clips and bobbles to set Ellie’s hair into a beautiful cascade of curls that could not have been bettered at a professional salon. Finally, she delved deep into her 'trophy bag' and produced a hair-spray to fix the style – and all this in the ladies loos!

Ellie stared transfixed into the mirror and was delighted by the style as Jackie finally stuffed her equipment into her bag. For moments she was speechless then finally felt compelled to turn and peck Jackie on the cheek by way of thanks.

“I take it you like it then sweetie?” Jackie grinned.

“Like it!? It’s fantastic; you’re fantastic." Ellie screeched with delight. "Where did you learn hairdressing?”

Jackie grinned again.

“I sometimes help at a salon in town on Wednesday afternoons when all the gorillas are playing rugby. Oh I also sometimes row boats but I prefer hair-dressing. I work for nothing and the staff teach me.”

Ellie turned again to study her stunning hairstyle and almost started to tear up as she found the perfect reflection looking back.

“Thank you Jackie, it’s beautiful.”

“My treat darling. It’s always a pleasure to be appreciated. Mwaah!”

Having sounded an air-kiss, Jackie turned and followed her friends back to the dance-floor. Ellie found herself quickly following and even tagging hopefully behind as the tee-girls returned to their corner where a couple of friends had been reserving the seats and tables. Bags were slung to the back on the windowsill and the girls immediately resumed dancing. Jackie noticed Ellie’s hopeful expression and grinned a welcome.

“Okay girl, we don’t bite; you can join us if you don’t feel like a midget.”

It was only then that Ellie realised all the tee-girls were wearing six-inch platforms and towered above all but the tallest men.

As she danced and span to the wild beat of the music her own dancing skills brought compliments from her newfound companions but it also attracted other stares. Eventually one of the staring males came over to the group. He had been a relative ‘late-comer’ and Ellie had noticed him chatting earnestly to Jackie earlier at the bar. She had noticed him because he was even taller than Jackie and Jackie was the tallest of the tee-girls. The newcomer joined the girls without the slightest hint of embarrassment.

“Hi girls! Hiya Jackie!”

They responded amiably and it was clear that the tee-girls were familiar with the good-looking guy. The newcomer turned to Ellie and smiled wide-eyed with appreciation.

“I say darling, with a figure like yours you just surely can't be a tranny as well! Are you? You’re a bloody convincing one if you are.”

Ellie felt her face begin to redden more with anger than embarrassment

“No! I’m bloody well not! And what is it to you if I was?”

“Alright darling, sorry to have offended. Didn’t mean any offence but you are truly an attractive girl; where’ve you been hiding?”

“I haven’t,” Ellie replied as she recognised a truly typical ‘hooray Henry’, “but you might not have noticed this is a university and some of us are here to study.”

The boy looked somewhat crest-fallen and Ellie actually found herself feeling sorry for him so she kept the conversation alive.

“What-choo readin then?” She asked in hard 'Essex esturine'.

“English and Classics,” he replied in a slightly subdued tone as he recognised a stroppy cockney. “What are you reading?”

“Maffs and physic darlin'.” She continued winding him up. "Juh wanna' dance?"

“Oh.” He stumbled then recovered his confidence. “Yes, yes I would, I'd very much like to dance. Shall we?”

He indicated the floor so for an answer, Ellie turned to face him and recommenced her actions to the beat of the music. He immediately joined her as his eyes appraised her figure.

“You really are a stunning girl you know, how the heck have you not been taken. I mean- brains and beauty, I' noticed you as soon as I came in. Diamond in the rough and all that.”

Ellie glared at him before censuring him.

"Diamond in the rough! What d' you this place is; a bloody quarry? I’m not some sort of commodity you know; not some sort of sweet or tit-bit to be ‘taken’ as you put it.”

The first flickering of his smile died again as he glanced nervously.”

“I - I'm Sorry. I didn't mean it like that I’m not doing very well am I?”

“You’re doin’ okay, for an 'ooray 'enry.” Ellie continued in the ‘Essex girl’ vein

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

On reflection Ellie wasn’t sure what it meant. She’d used it as a mild ‘put down’ to ensure he would not try any of the ‘oik’ stuff. She had used the old adage, ‘get your retaliation in first’. Now she felt a little guilty. It was unfair for a pretty girl to be cruel or dismissive to a boy who had only wanted to dance. As she watched him squirm she began to feel sorry for him.

“Perhaps that was a bit cruel of me. Your dancing’s okay.”

“But my chat-up line is -,”

“Somewhat sexist and a little presumptuous. But I suppose that’s to be expected.”

“Because you think I’m a hooray Henry I suppose.”

“No because you’re a man.”

“Oh; I’m glad you didn’t call me a boy. D’ you think all men are presumptuous?”

“Most are.”

“And you think I am, presumptuous – that is.”

“A little, I said a little.”

“Oh, I was taking you figuratively. Like in ‘a little’ being posh-speak for understated ‘a lot’.”

“Well don’t 'take-me-figuratively'. In ‘my common-speak’, a little really is a little. I’m a mathematician, remember? Values count.”

He nodded thoughtfully as he realised he had met his match. Word plays and clever expressions counted as nought with the girl who was dancing with him. He changed tack.

“Now I know your values, might I ask your name?”

“Yes.”

He smiled as he recognised her extension of her stated logical pragmatism. –More word play.-

“So, what’s your name?”

“Ellie; what’s yours?”

He blushed as a wide grin split his face.

“Please don’t laugh!"

"Why?"

"It's Henry!”

Ellie couldn’t contain her snort; part amusement and part embarrassment.

“Sorry. Couldn’t help that. Me and my big mouth.”

“I’ll forgive you. Can I get you a drink?”

“I’m not drinking. I’ve got a dissertation to present in the morning; clear head and all that.”

“What, so late in the term?”

“Double degree and all that. Lots to do and stuff. Though it’s hot in here; make it a soft drink; a lemonade with ice.”

He turned and steered his way between the dancers to the bar as Ellie turned to re-join the dancing trannies. One of them, Jackie, the same girl who had styled Ellie’s hair, approached her and spoke about Henry.

“You've made a killing there girl. He’s in my tutorial group – very posh. His grandfather’s a duke or something.”

“Good God!” Ellie grinned. “So he really is a ‘hooray Henry!”

“Well – yes; but he’s quite sweet actually. Not your usual ‘untin’ shoot’n n’ fishin’ type. He’s quite studious as well.”

Ellie turned to watch Henry buying the drinks as she studied him through thoughtful eyes. She decided to talk shop with him instead of baiting him. When he rejoined her she nodded towards her table and he placed the drinks down before offering her, her chair. She took it graciously and smiled her appreciation towards Henry

“Thank you. It’s nice to be treated like a lady.”

“My pleasure.” He beamed as he took the opposite chair.

It was an obvious sign he had no intentions of swamping her with uninvited intimacy. She opened up with a few questions about his reasons for choosing English and classics then they were soon in deep conversation.

The evening seemed to fly as they alternately danced then chatted with the trans-girls until the last dance was announced. Ellie was preparing to return to the hall of residence with some of the trans-girls when Henry offered to walk her back to her room. After a brief questioning glance towards Jackie she caught the transvestite’s slight, reassuring nod. At this she acceded to Henry’s offer

“I’d love you to walk me home, come back with us to mine then and you can share a coffee with me and the tee-girls.”

Henry accepted graciously and Ellie began to see him in a better light as he happily agreed to walk her home in the company of the trans-girls.

Ellie warmed even further to Henry as he shared in the banter that had so attracted Ellie to the transvestites and transsexual girls. He chatted quite amiably with Jackie the ‘hair-dresser’ and yet made no obvious or unwarranted remarks concerning their gender issues, indeed he seemed almost reticent to speak at all when the banter touched on their issues. Ellie was appreciative of his thoughtful and tactful silences indeed so much so that when she got to her hall she insisted he join them for coffee.

Henry was delighted to accept Ellie’s invitation but one of the tee-girls quickly set him right about any other issues.

“That’s all it is darling; coffee and nothing else.”

He nodded shyly but Ellie was quick to spot that Henry had been a little hurt by the implication that he was hoping for something more. As Ellie left the other girls in the common room Henry approached her while she was making coffee.

“Honestly Ellie, I wasn’t expecting anything else. Why do girls always assume that boys are only after one thing?”

Ellie smiled and turned to peck him on the cheek.

“Because usually, they are.”

“Well honestly I’m not. After the coffee’s finished I’ll be gone.”

“So will the others darling. I’ve got work in the morning finishing my dissertation. Here take the biscuits and plates through.”

He loaded the stuff on a tray then added milk and sugar. Ellie studied him thoughtfully. Most boys would have only taken the biscuits and plates.
She continued studying him while the biscuits and coffee disappeared and noticed he only took two biscuits while the other girls tucked in. Once again he was not like other boys, he seemed thoughtful and considerate enough to make sure he did not contribute to any embarrassment to Ellie if the biscuits ran out. They didn’t but after an hour he stood up in an obvious gesture and yawned tactfully as he announced.

“Well, if you’ve got work in the morning, I’ll be going. Don’t stay up too late.”

It was a tactful innuendo to the other girls to be considerate of Ellie’s early start and Ellie felt a twinge of gratitude as Henry’s remark spurred the others to act. Within a few minutes, Ellie’s room was empty and she was able to turn in.
~~00~~

Chapter 2.

The following morning she was busy in the library when a cup of coffee suddenly appeared at her elbow. A voice whispered softly to avoid disturbing other students.

“Here you are girl. Coffee break though a bit early for elevenses.”

She looked up and grinned as she recognised first the voice then the face.

“Thanks Henry. You’re thoughtful and you remembered about my tutorial.”

“Can't stay long darling. I’ve got to make the gym, training for the rowing.”

“Oh, you really are a rower are you? I thought you were spinning me a line. Hoping to make the boat-race are you.”

“Oooh no darling. I’m tall but not heavy or strong enough; paired lightweight sculls that’s me. Will you be finished tonight?”

“Not likely. I’ll have more work after the tutorial and the professor will probably see me again tomorrow morning. I only found out after the exams that she’s got hopes for me?”

“Oh, so you’re her star pupil, usually, extra tutorials mean a student is falling behind. Well, I’m going to Nene Valley Railway centre tomorrow; I just thought you might want to tag along.”

Ellie let out an involuntary snort.

“Gosh you know how to impress a girl, a trip to see the trains! Will I be expected to collect train numbers?”

Henry’s hopeful grin faded to disappointment.

“It’s not like that. I just thought; oh well never mind; perhaps some other time.”

He turned to leave and she felt a little guilty as she watched his shoulders droop with disappointment. Hastily she called after him.

“No, no. I’d love to come but I can’t make it before twelve. I hand this work in for eleven and the professor still wants to discuss some more stuff.”

“What! On a Saturday?”

“Yes. It’s the only time we’ve got available on the main-frame.”

“Oh dear, that’d be too late. I’m booked for eleven so I have to leave here by nineish.”

“Oh. Sorry, I won’t be able to make that time but next time I’d love to come.”

“That’s Sunday but it’s a put to bed exercise. I’ll be all filthy and covered in soot. I don’t suppose you’d like that.”

“What d’you mean; ‘Put to bed’?”

“Oh cleaning her, oiling her, coaling her and dropping her fire after some track maintenance I think.”

“Who’s ‘her’?”

“Jessica. She’s a class 4 standard tank.”

“Tank. What, you mean like a Sherman tank?”

Henry tutted and chuckled.

“No, no silly, Jessica’s a steam engine, a tank engine, a class 4 standard, tank locomotive. Work-horse of all the railways until diesel traction replaced steam.”

“Jessica; a train! You make her sound like your girlfriend.”

He grinned, partly with embarrassment.

“Well she is – sort of. I’m fond of her.”

“A steam locomotive. You go to see a steam locomotive. Is that every weekend? Are you crazy or what?”

“Well, I suppose you could say I was, when you put it like that, but it’s just a hobby, lots of people have hobbies.”

“And yours is visiting a steam engine. I don’t know who is more loco, you or the engine.”

“That would be the engine darling, she is after all a loco-motive as the Americans would say.”

“Oh very funny. Well I have to admit,” Ellie sighed, “I can’t half pick them.”

“Oh I’ve been picked have I? Picked for what?”

Ellie suddenly realised she might have revealed more of her feelings for him than she ought to have done and she quickly laid a smoke screen.

“It was a figure of speech, why do I have to get the crazies?”

“Oh so I’m crazy am I, just because I have a hobby involving trains. What are your hobbies?”

Ellie fell silent. In truth she hadn’t got a long term, life-time hobby. She got most of her enjoyment solving maths and physics problems.

Finally she confessed.

“I don’t have hobbies; I don’t have time for them.”

“What? Not even shopping?”

“Too expensive. Not all of us are rich.”

Henry tactfully ignored the barb but he’d felt it. Instead he asked.

“So what do you do on weekends?”

“Well I’m still finding my way around the town and the other colleges. There’s plenty to see and do, museums, churches, chapels, pubs; you name it. I keep busy.”

“Don’t you do any sport? I mean you’ve got the figure of an athlete.”

Ellie blushed under the compliment but felt like a million dollars.

“I used to but I’ve not had much time this first term. Finding my level and feeling my way. I might resume cycling again. The land is flat around here.”

Henry fell silent. After offering an invitation to a day out he had little else to say and the girl he fancied like mad seemed to be more interested in her books. After a pregnant silence he finally concluded she wasn’t interested in taking things further and he made his excuses.

“Well, I’ll have to be going, see you around.”

“I’ll be free next week after Monday.” Ellie replied hopefully.

“Wednesday is end of term; I’ll be going down for Christmas.”

“Oh heck yes, I forgot. Shall I see you next term?”

“We could do, I might possibly catch up with you next term then, bye, see you around.”

He left before Ellie could respond and she was left staring at the door as it slowly closed on its fire restrictor. Henry had left hurriedly and she couldn’t be sure if he was disappointed or resigned or just angry. His last words ‘See you around’ left a worrisome doubt in her mind.

“Damn!” She scolded herself. “I could have handled that better. I haven’t even got his phone number.”

She had to force herself to resume working.

The following morning, she had a stroke of luck. The professor was indisposed and had left a note apologising and that she would see Ellie at the start of the spring term. She only had to leave her dissertation with her secretary. Ellie decided to accompany Henry to his ‘train set’ as she amusedly referred to it in her own mind. On going around to his hall of residence, she was disappointed to learn from another student that Henry had already left for the rail-yard and she was left wondering how to get there.

As she stood by the door deciding what to do, another different student approached her.

“Weren’t you the girl Henry was sweet on at the end of term ball?”

Ellie nodded and explained.

“Yes. He invited me to go to the railway thingy with him but I had work. I suppose he’ll be at the railway centre all day. Now I've missed him.”

The student nodded and smiled.

“Oh yes he left early; he’s dead keen on his engine. But, if you are prepared to share a ride, I can give you a lift, I’m following on with these tools and stuff to do another job. Right now he’s probably checking his beloved Jessica and lighting the fire.”

“His engine?” Ellie asked as she picked up on his first words.

“Oh didn’t he tell you. I thought everybody knew about Jessica. Henry’s grand-dad owns her but everybody knows that Henry likes to drive her.”

Ellie was slightly dumb-struck. She thought Henry was just one of a team of enthusiasts who messed about with trains.

“No, I didn’t know. How did you know?”

“I’m another rail nut but I’m working on maintaining another engine today. Henry’s taking Jessica out for a spin. He; or rather Jessica is hauling six coaches on the first Santa run.”

“What, you mean he’s driving the engine.”

“Yes but there’ll be a line inspector accompanying plus the stoker. Henry isn’t qualified for the road yet; his engine only came down by low-loader a few weeks ago and this is only his second time out with a loaded train.”

“You mean he actually drives the engine?”

“Yes, didn’t you hear me? He’s fully qualified to drive his grand-dad’s engine but he’s only had her down on the Nene and made a couple of light-engine runs since November. Jessica is the second best Engine on the line at the moment and probably the most reliable. I’ve a feeling the society will be making full use of her, she’s really handy.”

“Oh my God! And there I was teasing him about it.”

“The other student frowned.

“Don’t! He’s held in high regard by the society and Jessica is a real asset. Class four tanks are really useful engines. Especially on weight restricted railroads. They’re light, powerful, reliable and quite nippy. All that plus she’s got a closed cab for wet weather, that makes her nice and cosy. Henry will never be short of stokers. Jessica’s one of the best class fours’ and one of the last to be built. Here can you carry these tools to the car?”

Ellie was so surprised she did as asked and eventually they were on their way. On route the other student opened up.

“Henry was talking about you last night.”

“Oh. What was he saying?”

“He thinks he’s not up to your league. – ‘too much beauty and brains’ he said.”

“Beauty? Me?” Ellie wondered aloud.

“Yeess.” He replied slowly. “Don’t you think so?”

“Well uuuuhhm, no not really. My forehead’s too hi-“

“Now stop right there girl. I saw you in that beautiful dress at the ball and you really showed it off to the best effect. The pony tail was too much of a functional thing and the subsequent ‘Croydon face-lift’ was the worst possible hair style. You could do wonders with better makeup! You looked really stunning after your hair makeover and your face was framed properly to hide that forehead. That’s when Henry noticed you. Apart from the forehead breadth your face is beautiful. And anyway, your forehead only makes your face look slightly triangular and the make-over worked. I see you’ve put it back in a ponytail. Mind-you that’ll be more functional on the railway.”

Ellie reflected on the ball and the girl who fixed her hair.

“Yes, that Jackie did a good job. I’ll have to find out which hall she lives in and get some tips off her.”

At that the boy let out a snort then laughed loudly.

“You silly bitch! Don’t you recognise me?”

She stared at him uncomprehendingly and momentarily offended by his calling her a bitch.

“No.” She snapped. "And I'm not a bitch!"

Realising he had inadvertently caused offence; he suddenly raised his voice and spoke most effeminately.

“Sorry darling. ‘Bitch’ is a sort of term of endearment between us Trannies. Don't your recognise me? I’m Jackie! The girl who did your hair in the loos! Well I’m her brother James today!”

For the second time that day she was shocked as she stared at him.

“What you! Oh my God!”

“Why do you keep calling on that guy? If you believe in him he might come down to speak to you, then what would you do?”

“But, but you! You’re Jackie! You’re just so-oo different. I mean -.”

“It’s all in the make-up darling; oh, and the voice. Miracles can be worked. Come over to my hall sometime and I’ll give you some pointers.”

Ellie grinned as she asked.

“Are you saying I need a miracle as well?”

“Certainly not, but you need to learn a few alternative looks. A girl needs different ammunition for different battles.”

“I’d really love that. You're really kind. How did you learn all this stuff? Can I come over Monday?”

“You’d best come over early. We’re going to a trans-party to wind up the end of term. I’ll be doing a few makeovers. Why not bring Henry, he lives in our hall anyway and he’s often seen us going clubbing. He doesn’t seem to mind us and chats with us quite a lot. Another of us girls is also a rower but I share the double sculls with Henry. We make a good pair but both of us are too small for the eights. Provided Henry brings you as a partner I’m sure the other girls won’t mind. I warn you, we can be a wild bunch though. Tee-girls know how to enjoy themselves.”

“Tee-girls?” Ellie wondered.

“Our own word for ourselves love. The ‘tee’ is just a useful shorthand for ‘Trans’: - transvestite, transgender, transsexual, trans-whatever. We turn off here, not far to go.”

After a couple more miles they arrived and James slipped away to locate Henry, he returned to tell Ellie-

“The society must be really pleased with his engine. He’s taken the eleven o’clock Santa special with the first load of passengers. He won’t be back until one o’clock. Well, twelve fifty five to be precise.”

“So what do I do until then?”

“Well. I can show you around; not the smoky greasy engines of course but the coaches all laid out for the Christmas lunches and stuff.”

“I think I’d prefer the smoky engines, even go inside one if it’s not too much to ask.”

A wide grin crossed James’s face as he contemplated the occasion. A pretty girl was always a welcome visitor especially when she had come of her own volition.

“Well I’m glad you’ve worn jeans. I’ll lend you one of my overalls and a hat to tuck your hair, come on. Oh! Have you got any moisturising cream? It makes a useful barrier against the soot and grim.”

Ellie grinned, “trust you to know that. Sorry though, I left it back in my room.”

“Well never mind, I’ve got some in my work locker if you’re okay about borrowing it. It’s a new jar so you can use it first.”

Ellie let out another giggle.

“Ever the gentleman aren’t you? - and sometimes the lady. You’re funny. I can see why Henry likes you.”

They continued chatting as Ellie grabbed one of the tool bags and followed James to a store. They emerged later to be directed to a class five standing beautifully polished with a smart rake of matching coaches attached ready to be the next Christmas-dinner, express. Ellie’s eyes widened with appreciation as she was helped up on to the footplate by a kindly older driver. After explaining that she was Henry’s girlfriend the older man smiled and explained some of the controls.

“I’m surprised Henry didn’t take you on the footplate with him. Usually girlfriends love the ride.”

Ellie explained how and why she’d missed the treat and the man apologised that he couldn’t invite her to travel with him because the footplate invitation was already booked. After chatting about engines and explaining that she was a scientist, Ellie was surprised to learn that the driver was a professor of modern history at the university. It seemed that steam enthusiasts came from every walk of life.
Soon their conversation was interrupted by a long whistle that announced Henry and his beloved Jessica’s return at the head of the ‘Morning Santa’. She clambered eagerly down the footplate step and blew her thanks to the professor before rushing to meet Henry’s train.

As it ‘shished’ to a stop the line inspector got down after exchanging a few friendly words. Henry was already smiling just as his eyes suddenly spotted Ellie. Ellie savoured the sight of Henry's smile widening into a huge appreciative grin as the train came to a standstill.

“Oh! Hello, I’ didn’t expect to see you here. I thought you had a dissertation to hand in. I thought you weren’t interested.”

Ellie detected the uncertainty in Henry’s words and realised the boy was hopeful but not optimistic about Ellie’s feelings towards him. She scolded him softly.

“You didn’t tell me did you?”

“Tell you what?”

“That Jessica was your own engine and that you actually drove her.”

“That would have seemed like boasting and it seemed I was already a snooty toff in your eyes.”

“Is that what you thought?” She asked, slightly grieved.

Henry hesitated as his uncertainty endured.

“Yes; well to me it seemed like that.”

“Well I’m sorry if I came across as a bit of a bitch and you certainly don’t look like a snooty toff right now – covered in coal-dust, oil and soot.”

“Look who’s talking, you don’t look much like a scientist either.”

She grinned and tugged at the ill-fitting overalls.

“They belong to James. He lent them to me.”

“And the cap I see. Where is he?”

“I don’t know, he said he was going down the sheds to do some work on another engine.”

“Oh yes, that’ll be Thomas. She’s hauling a children’s special later.”

Ellie grinned.

“It seems incongruous to call an engine named Thomas ‘she’.”

“All engines are she, like ships. Anyway Thomas might be a transvestite engine especially in that flamboyant blue.”

“Oh James would love that!”

“Oh! He’s revealed himself to you then.”

“Yes. I was amazed. Jackie is just so effeminate and pretty then James turns out to be a grease monkey, just like you – and me.”

Just as she finished talking, Henry responded to the shunter’s call from the platform and there was a gentle jerk as Jessica moved up to loosen before uncoupling. Ellie staggered and plopped down onto the stoker’s seat.

“Oh! You could have warned me.”

“Sorry it’s a soft landing if a bit sooty.”

Just then the stoker emerged from between the train and engine then climbed back onto the footplate. Henry nodded as he peered down the track.

“Okay Jack! There’s my signal Sorry my lady friend has nicked your seat.”

Jack grinned.

“Be my guest, just a few yards to the coaling station anyway.”

Henry tooted the whistle and some per-way men raised their arms to acknowledge as Jessica smoothly ‘shished’ ahead to clank over the points.

“Is that it for today?” Ellie asked Henry.

“I don’t know. There’s been a flood of last minute interest. There might be a late train and Jessica’s in the frame for it. She’s so handy and doesn’t need the turn-table. Enthusiasts seem okay with tanks running tender first but they get miffed if the black five does it. If there is a late-un what’s the betting they’ll want Jessica and me.”

Jack the stoker frowned.

“Well I’ve got to be gone by four, I can’t do a second run but there’ll be plenty of enthusiasts willing to get their time in on the shovel.”

Henry nodded as he stared fixedly ahead at the rack of signals that stretched across the tracks. Several moved in close succession and Ellie admired how Henry seemed to make sense of their activity. Eventually Jessica slowed to a halt and Henry parked her before helping Ellie down before he took her to the controller’s cabin. He emerged looking somewhat philosophical but happy.

“It seems they’ll definitely want me. The three o’clock is oversubscribed and there’s a bit of a flap for extra coaches. Bob’s picking up some spares at Peterborough and bringing them down on his return with the black five.”

“Is he the professor driving that one with the tender?”

“Yes. But once he’s back, they’re putting her to bed cos’ the turn-table crew are finishing at three. So it’s Jessica and me for the extra.”

“That seems unfair. What time will you finish?

“Out at five, back by eight or nine. It’s a ‘darker’ so I’ll finish late.

“Aren’t you annoyed?”

“Gosh no, I’m elated. I need the night experience for my road permit. It means the line inspector will be accompanying me again.”
“You mean it’s like an exam?”

“More a tutorial at this stage, I’ve never made a night run. I must get a few under my belt before qualifying so I’m glad of this run. Come on, let’s go and give Jessica her dinner, then we’ll grab something in the canteen as well.”

Ellie followed and was pleased to learn that James had seized the opportunity for a turn on the shovel as a step to qualifying as a driver. Henry had already explained that the maximum on the footplate was four; normally the driver, stoker and up to two guests. Ellie had been offered the unexpected treat to make up a fourth with the line inspector supervising Henry’s abilities.

“Will the inspector mind me being on the footplate?” Ellie asked uncertainly.

“Not at all. Everybody’s glad I’m prepared to take the train out. It means a whole pile of unexpected extra income because it’ll be quite a long train. About eight coaches by all accounts. That’s about as much as Jessica can haul; the line is mostly flat so she should have no problems.”

“Problems?” Ellie wondered.

“Yes. Losing traction. That reminds me, we’d better get some extra sand, just in case.”

They pulled up at the coaling station where James and several volunteers were stood expectantly. Henry advised Ellie to get out while the coal was tipped into the tender.

“There’ll be a hell of a lot of dust darling, you’ll have to shower in the washrooms after and I’m afraid it’s all boys.”

Ellie grinned.

“Oooh that'll be interestin. I hope you'll protect me. I’m black already darling so I’ll have to have a shower anyway, especially after we bring the train back.”

“Well, be it on your head darling, I did warn you. The coaling crew threw a large sheet over the cab roof and windows while Henry produced a smaller sheet for personal cover. He also produced some dust masks.

“Health and safety darling. Sign of the times.”

Thus prepared, he signalled to James who motioned to the tipper driver and soon several tons were rumbling down the chute into the tender. The dust cloud enveloped the cab and Ellie jumped with fright at the sudden noise. After realising what it was, she giggled as she hugged Henry tight under their protective canvas sheet. Henry hugged her back and Ellie was pleased that there were no inquisitive opportunistic fingers, just a tight embrace.

“I see what you mean; it’s good job James lent me his spare overalls.”

The loading was completed and Henry eased a few yards down the track to the water tower. There James filled the side tanks and took the opportunity to hose most of the dust off the engine. When she emerged, she was back to her gleaming black gloss. Inside the cab, Henry
rinsed and hosed out the bulk of what dust had penetrated the sheets and soon, Jessica was ready to roll. They parked up and joined Ellie in the canteen where she had grabbed some food left over from the Christmas dinner special. She had set a table for the gang. They ate appreciatively because it was a Christmas dinner.

“So are you joining the society then?” One of the coaling gang asked.

Ellie smiled enigmatically and turned to Henry with a smile.

“If he’ll have me; all black and sooty.”

“That’s how he likes em, “James giggled.

Henry’s blush was visible even under the grime but he gasped with surprise when Ellie secretly squeezed his thigh under the table.

“Ah! I dunno boys,” he declared, “she’s too pretty for this work.”

It was Ellie’s turn to blush as she savoured the unexpected compliment. Then she disillusioned him.

“It doesn’t take beauty to clean an engine. Just water, grease, detergent and hands.”

This bought a chuckle from the crew as the line inspector joined them.”

“Twenty minutes boys! I’ve put several bags of sand by the engine but they’re too heavy for me to lift into the cab. Is any of that food going free?”

“Help yourself.” Henry agreed and Ellie doled out some meat and veg that still remained.

The line inspector took a seat as Henry asked.

“The coaling gang have asked if they can ride in the brake van.”

“Don’t see why not, “the inspector agreed. “They’ll be useful if we have a traction problem and they can add extra sand under the wheels to supplement the injected sand if she does start to slip at the valley rise bank. This’ll be a test of your driving skills as well Henry.”

A ripple of interest rustled around the table for despite bringing his own engine to the party, Henry was still something of a new boy; albeit a boy growing in popularity. The more Ellie watched the crack around the table the more she grew to like the shy, aristocrat. There was no ‘side’ to him at all when he was amongst people of like interests. All too soon the twenty minutes was up and they took the engine to the waiting train. Ellie stood well back out of the way as they coupled to the train. There was no lurch as the coupling went smoothly and Ellie caught the inspector’s approving nod as he watched Henry’s handiwork. James climbed back aboard and they waited for the clearance from the signal box. It came and slowly Jessica eased her way gently forward as the full weight of the coaches began to tell. Fortunately there were to be no intermediate stops so Henry would only have to consider the gentle slope as the line skirted the valley and headed towards Peterborough. If he maintained his momentum it should prove no problem.

Ellie sensed the tension as the train approached the bank and she could tell Jessica was beginning to work for her living. The train slowed appreciably but Henry kept a steady even pull and eventually the whole train crawled smoothly over the crest of the bank. There was a notable but silent sense of relief in the cab as the ordeal was over and Henry exchanged a telling glance with the line inspector. The inspector nodded again as he remarked.

“The black five almost stalled there last Christmas. You’ve got a good engine here, d’ you intend keeping her on the line?”

“It’s up to my grand-dad. It’s his loco, I only drive it.”

“And very well too, if I might say. You and the engine are an asset lad. I’m told you have a private name for her.”

Henry blushed and nodded. “Yes, my Grand-dad named her Jessica and it’s stuck. I call her Jessica as well.”

The inspector smiled.

“Nice name, are you going to give her a name plaque?”

“Ooh that’s a bit expensive, and pretentious don’t you think. She’s only a common-or-garden tank engine.”

The inspector grinned.

“Henry, aren’t you listening? There’s a tiny blue tank in the shed called Thomas and all the children love him. It’d be nice if Thomas had a friend – a big sister as it were. I’m sure the society could help with name plaques. This extra trip alone would pay for them twice over.”
Uncertainty creased Henry’s brow as he glanced towards Ellie for some sort of input. She smiled and nodded towards the inspector as she added.

“It’d be nice for Thomas.”

“But I don’t know of any class four tanks in any of the stories.” Henry protested. “It sort of wouldn’t be in keeping. Besides, the money could be better used elsewhere.”

“Oh piffle!” Ellie retorted. “There are no suburban coaches on this line either to represent Thomas’s naughty carriages Annie and Clarabel but nobody seems to worry about that. I think it would be splendid if Jessica was named.”

Henry stayed silent. They were approaching Peterborough and he needed to concentrate against all the background lights that could be confused with the signals, especially to the inexperienced eye. On arrival at the station in the dark Henry was initially preoccupied with changing ends which was easy for Jessica because of her ‘tank-engine’ configuration. This was what made her a favourite with all the enthusiasts. The trio then had a couple of hours to kill before the return journey so the three went for a mooch around Peterborough while an experienced caretaker minded the engine. The Christmas festive spirit was everywhere and Ellie asked what Henry and James wanted for Christmas.

Henry was slightly surprised and hesitated uncertainly.

“Oh. I hadn’t thought about that. I’m sorry; I didn’t bring any money to buy you something. I’m in my working jeans and stuff. I’ve just got a couple of quid on me. I wasn’t expecting –“

“Oh don’t be silly. This is my treat. I’ll buy you some deodorant or something, or a pair of socks.”

Henry felt embarrassed and Ellie sensed it.

“There’ll be time enough to reciprocate the favour. What do you think James? Are you happy to receive a prezzie?”

James however had no such reservations about accepting Christmas presents. He grinned mischievously.

“There are some lovely lingerie gift sets in Primark and they’re ever so cheap! I’ve had my eye on them since last week. I hope there are some still left.”

Ellie squeaked with amused protest.

“If you think I’m going lingerie shopping with you, you’re mistaken.”

James shrugged.

“Very well, I’ll go alone. See you back on Jessica.”

Ellie’s eyes widened with surprise.

“Are you serious? D’ you mean you buy your own – publicly; even when dressed as a boy?”

James scolded her softly.

“Why not? I know my own sizes so I don’t have to try them on. Anyway, what if I did? You won’t be there.”

Ellie’s demeanour changed to curiosity.

“This I must see. And you in your overalls!”

“Huh! Like I care? Come if you want. I don’t mind.”

Ellie turned to Henry.

“D ’you believe him? Buying his own lingerie even while dressed in stoker’s overalls.”

Henry shrugged.

“Don’t see why not. He goes out in girls’ clothes nearly all the time. He even comes down to the rowing club dressed.”

Ellie hesitated again then turned to Henry.

“Will you come with us?”

“He doesn’t need me darling. James is capable of looking after himself.”

“No; it’s me who’s embarrassed but I want to see.”

Henry sighed and glanced at James who nodded permission.

“O-oh, alright then. Can’t see anything better to do. Come on, we’ve only got half an hour.”

They strode quickly into town and Ellie marvelled at James’s aplomb as he chose his preferred lingerie set and then matched them to some stockings. Ellie was also quite surprised at Henry’s aplomb. At the counter the lady reminded James they could not be returned and James replied quite openly.

“I know my own size dear. They’ll fit.”

The sales lady nodded and smiled as she bagged them up while James keyed in his card. Outside the shop Ellie wagged her head.

“That sales woman wasn’t at all fazed.”

“Why should she? She probably gets at least one trans-girl every day.” Henry observed. “Come on, let’s get back early, I fancy a bacon sandwich before the station cafe closes.”

On the way back, Ellie couldn’t help but want to explore James’s other side. After asking lots of questions she turned to Henry.

“Doesn’t it bother you Darling?”

Henry pulled a wry smile.

“Darling! He’s my friend and rowing partner plus we share an interest in steam locomotives. Jacky has every right to claim her part and besides, Jacky’s bloody good fun. Apart from you of course, I prefer going out with Jacky and her friends to going out with the rowing club gang.”

This revelation paradoxically raised Ellie’s opinion of the enigmatic Henry.

The journey home proved uneventful. Jessica proved herself well capable of the return journey and by the time James and Henry had dropped the fire, it was gone midnight when they finally trudged back into their respective college halls.

The next morning Ellie was disappointed when neither James or Henry returned her calls. Further inquiries finally revealed that they had both gone rowing. She decided to do some laundry and it was all of eleven o’clock before her phone rang, Henry spoke.

“Hi Ellie. We’ve finished training. Would you like to come out on Jessica again?”

Strangely she found herself accepting eagerly and soon they were driving west to the Nene Valley. In the car she found herself getting quite excited at the prospect as James explained.

“We might not be taking a train today. There’s only four excursions planned and Thomas the Tank has two of those. Jessica might be used to work on the line extension. The good news is we’ll be finished early if she is.”

“What does it entail?” Ellie asked.

“Oh plenty of to-ing and fro-ing moving trucks and the track-laying crane. Good driving practice for any learners.”

“And you’re hoping for a turn?” Ellie deduced.

James nodded then Ellie fell silent in the passenger seat as Henry gave James driving instruction for locomotives.

Throughout the day Ellie thought she’d be bored but was delighted to find she was asked to stoke Jessica after James and Henry had coaled and watered her. It was an easy task because no speed was required and very little coal needed to be shovelled as the locomotive trudged slowly back and forwards carrying assorted road laying materials as the line extension was progressed to everybody’s satisfaction. The
scheduled work was completed ahead of time and everybody sang Jessica’s praises. Ellie found herself beginning to like working on the railway.

During the last few days of term, Ellie and Henry’s relationship blossomed.

~oo000oo~

Chapter 3.

During the holidays, the Henry and Ellie did not see each other but kept in touch by all the usual electronic means. When the next term started, the relationship had become a solid one. At the half term Henry took Ellie to meet his family at their country seat. His father and grandparents took immediately to the vivacious girl that Henry had met and Ellie tried desperately not to be over-awed by the sheer magnitude of the house and the surrounding estate. Henry’s mother however, did not much take to Ellie even though his father proved to be more accepting. More importantly, Henry’s grandfather, the old Duke proved inordinately fond of Ellie. For herself Ellie was secretly pleased that Henry was only the ‘second son’. This meant if she married Henry, she would not become burdened with some sort of titled nobility with all the duties and responsibilities that Ellie had been surprised to learn about. That position was already owned by Henry’s older brother David and his newly married wife.

When the family visit was over, Ellie was secretly relieved to return to ‘uni’ and resume the more humdrum but rewarding life of academia. During that following term, she was pleased to reinforce her friendship with the group of transvestite friends who, whilst investing their transvestite activities, also shared many varied interests without wasting time and resources pursuing the high life.

Ellie had now proved her worth as an ‘A’ class student both to herself and her maths professor. Not surprisingly, the studying proved easier than she expected. Indeed, even as a student, she was invited to ‘assist’ her professor as her genius proved its worth. Naturally the studying got easier and Ellie began to find herself with time on her hands. Consequently she eventually resumed her cycling. Out on her bike, she often spotted James and Henry sculling on the river while she circuited the city and county of Cambridge on its many attractive cycle-ways.

The railway preservation society and Henry's beloved locomotive 'Jessica' also filled a niche in her life. Despite all the grease and grime and soot, she found a perverse joy in manual work that allowed her brain to switch off as she tackled any number of maintenance tasks from laying track, to painting coaches and oiling locomotives. Often, if cab space allowed, Henry indulged her and she shared the delights of the footplate with him when Jessica was busy hauling trains.

Just as she’d always hoped, she eventually threw off her old high-school ‘blue-stocking’ image that had dogged her during her schooldays. Now in Cambridge, amongst the more intellectual company at the university she found her intellect to be more amongst the 'norm', and she began to feel more comfortable amongst her more cerebral new-found friends. Inevitably she found her life and time at college to have blossomed. That summer she invited Henry to visit her dad. In that second year their relationship strengthened and at the end of her time at university they became a firm ‘item’. She and Henry set up home together when they each found work in London. After a few more years, despite Henry’s mother having misgivings about her son living ‘brush-and-shovel’, they decided to get married. Henrys mother was forced to reconcile herself to the fact that her second son was determined to marry ‘beneath’ himself. She was mildly mollified when Henry and Ellie finally got married and continued to work in the city.

Like any couple they visited their parents regularly but the relationship Between Ellie and her mother-in-law was always difficult. However, she finally, grudgingly accepted that her second son had ‘done the decent thing’ and made Ellie an ‘honest woman’. During a family gathering to celebrate Henry’s older brother’s third daughter’s christening, Ellie smiled ironically when she heard her mother-in-law’s remark that -

‘At least Henrys children won’t be bastards! They'll inherit legitimately if they have to.’

'If she did but know!' Ellie thought

Henry could only apologise for his mother’s remark when they drove home after the weekend but Ellie was too pre-occupied to care, she simply hugged him then revealed her own special secret.

“I’m not bothered about your mother darling. It’s your old grand-dad I like. He’s a proper gent. Mothers are always overly protective of their children, anyway, so she's always going to worry about you. Oh!, and by the way I’ve got a better bit of news for you.”

“What’s that?” Henry wondered absently as he concentrated on the ever increasing traffic as the 'weekenders' returned into London on that wet Sunday evening.

Ellie felt a surge of excitement as she prepared to drop her bombshell.

“Well,” she began mysteriously, “ you'll be pleased to know I think I'm pregnant. If everything follows its natural path, your child could be born legitimately in seven and a half months.”

“Wha-att!!” Henry almost shrieked.

“You’re going to be a dad. That’s what!”

Henry almost crashed the car with sheer excitement. He hauled over into the first immediate safe parking place and his trembling hands reached out to hug his wife while she savoured his embrace. For long minutes silence reigned in the car as their emotions left them speechless, then, slowly as their shared joy returned to coherent awareness, they found sentience enough to talk and plan for all of the many material issues that beset newly to be parents

By this time Henry had earned some promotions in the Home Office in Whitehall and Ellie was assured that even if she had to give up work, Henry’s salary could support them. As a backstop, Ellie arranged to work from home and work on line for three or four days a week while her gran could help babysit for the other two days every week. Nana Charlotte had moved from Cambridge to be nearer London for her own reasons.

The baby-minding arrangements proved workable and Ellie and Henry settled down to an idyllic life. This idyll was not to last however. Some years later disaster struck the little family when Ellie was widowed by a railway crash that killed Henry whilst commuting to work. The only reminder she had of that blissful union was the beautiful son they had produced. They had called him Callum.

After Henry’s death, Ellie's financial situation took a dive. Despite Henry’s generous death benefits, living in London proved to be too expensive. Ellie was forced to move out of the city and the increased commuting proved to be too costly in time and money. After discussing the situation with her grandmother they decided that Ellie should find a different job outside of the city.

The search was started and Ellie found work in a shipping office in the south of England. Her numerical skills and sharp commercial acumen were tools enough to get her quickly recognised as a very valuable asset. Within a year of sealing her new position by dint of skill, long hours and hard work she was settled into a secure, well paid job with good prospects.

Thus established, and now looking to permanently secure a roof over their heads, Ellie cashed in Henry’s remaining death benefits to buy a half share in a pretty, rural cottage which she then shared with her grandmother. Her salary and the sale of her grandmother’s home plus her grandmother’s pension had enabled them to purchase and maintain a classic ‘dream cottage’ with ‘roses around the door’.

Eventually Ellie’s father joined them when he took early retirement and moved south. The sale of his house further enabled them to add a substantial extension to the cottage and the four generations settled down to an agreeable life with each adult enjoying a small private apartment in the cottage whilst choosing if they wished to share meal times and occasional evenings together in a large communal space at the centre of the cottage. The plan quickly proved to be an excellent arrangement.

For a few years things worked out well until, one morning there was a knock on the door. Henry’s father Harry stood there white faced and ashen. A couple of years earlier, Henry’s grandfather had suffered an accelerated death caused by the loss of his favourite grandson. Now Henry’s father was the holder of the title. That same holder of the title now stood in the cold winter rain on Ellie's door step. Seeing her father-in-law’s distressed state, Ellie quickly invited him in.

“Quickly! Come in, you'll catch your death in this! What’s wrong?” She asked as he stepped gratefully over the threshold then slumped exhausted into an arm chair while Ellie’s dad hastened to bring a pot of tea.

The ashen-faced duke looked up thankfully then whispered:-

“It’s David, my son, Henry’s older brother.”

“Go on.” Ellie prompted.

“He, - he was, - he’s been killed by a roadside bomb in Afghanistan.”

Ellie’s jaw sagged as her mind reeled. At first the implications failed to hit her as she threw her arms around her father-in-law’s shoulders.

Ellie’s own father returned to find the pair in tears and he stood uncomprehending for several seconds before recovering his wits and digging out a table from the nesting set.

“What’s wrong?”

Between sobs, Ellie finally extricated herself from Harry’s grip and explained. Her dad wagged his head in sympathy and started to pour the tea. It was several moments before Ellie had recovered enough to realise her own father hadn’t yet understood the implications. She had to explain further.

“Don’t you understand Daddy? David only had three daughters. They’ve been trying for a son but nothing yet and now nothing - ever.”

“Oh dear darling, I’m just so sorry. It must be awful.”

Ellie frowned somewhat angrily.

“Don’t you get it daddy?”

“Get what?”

Ellie sighed impatiently as she motioned to Harry to explain.

“Harry looked up at William through tear stained eyes.”

“It means Bill that I have lost both my children; both my sons. Callum; your grandson, our grandson; that is, my only grandson by my youngest son Henry, is now the inheritor of the dukedom and the estates that go with the title. Ellie’s son is the future Duke of Denton.”

Silence fell as realisation took hold. Finally Ellie’s father spoke.

“But that won’t affect Callum for some years yet!”

Harry wagged his head slowly before continuing.

“I’ve been diagnosed with prostate cancer. They say it’s curable because they’ve caught it very early. I’ve been lucky but I’ll not be living forever. It’s reminded me of my own mortality.”

“So what are you saying? Are you suggesting that Callum goes to live in that great barn of a place - Denton Hall?”

Harry paused thoughtfully.

“No-oo, not exactly ... but I think if he’s to adjust to his changed circumstances, it might not do any harm if he learns of his future inheritance and becomes familiarised with what might be expected of him.”

William wagged his head uncertainly.

“You make it sound like some sort of Victorian melodrama. This is the twenty first century.”

Harry hesitated again then explained somewhat apologetically.

“There’s a lot depending on the survival of the estate. Over three quarters of the land is an SSI. It covers a large chunk of heath and moorland that used to be a large shooting estate for pheasant drives. The heath-land is one of the last bastions of several rare species of reptiles, amphibians and plants in the north of England. There is a lot of pressure for building land and mineral extraction. I’ve already been approached by the National trust concerning the continuity of the estate. David’s untimely death throws a lot of carefully laid plans into turmoil. We’ve already set the trust and inheritance wheels in motion for Callum and the longer I live, the better the outcome, otherwise inheritance taxes will cripple the estate.

Even if I survive for the next seven years, Callum will still be far short of his majority. There’s need for legal caretaker and executive arrangements until he’s eighteen if I die before then. I’m only trying to protect his rightful inheritance.”

William frowned and turned to Ellie.

“So; what’s your take darling?”

“I’m happy living here in the cottage. Nan, you, me and Callum; it’s just perfect and what’s more, I enjoy my new job. The boss is a good employer, she’s kind and considerate and always allows me time off when Callum’s ill or got something special on at school. I don’t want to give up my job. It’s rewarding and I would feel I was betraying her after all the kindness she’s shown me.”

“So you want to stay here.” William concluded.

“For now yes. Harry is okay for the moment so let’s continue as we have been doing. Callum can perhaps spend more time with Harry and the duchess. She is after all his only grandmother. Nana Charlotte is his great grandmother.”

The duke heaved a soft sigh of relief.

“I was hoping you’d be agreeable. I’m quite sure David’s wife would be more than happy to look after Callum when he comes over. Plus her three daughters can also keep him entertained.”

Ellie nodded as she added.

“Yes. He’s very fond of his paternal cousins. I’m a single child so Callum has no cousins on my side. Could Nana Charlotte come with him? She idolises her grandson.”

“Of course.” The duke spread his hands expansively. “There’s plenty of room.”

Ellie sighed gratefully for it meant she could continue with her job in the shipping offices. She had now become thoroughly immersed in her job as ‘Girl Friday’ to the lady called Beverly who owned and ran the shipping company out of Poole in Dorset. The work provided her with many varied and interesting tasks that got her out and about around the harbour. Sometimes she even occasionally visited foreign places as her boss began to find Ellie’s sharp brain to be a useful and sometimes indispensable companion. Ellie felt guilty about asking for more time off because her lady boss had already indulged her generously during Ellie’s move south and her prolonged search for the cottage. Allowing Nana Charlotte to accompany Callum and stay regularly at the Ducal Seat would prove a boon to Ellie’s mobility. She bent down and kissed the duke on his balding patch.

“Thanks Harry, I’m sure Callum would be delighted. He always talks of the pond and the horses.”

The duke looked up and smiled. The relief was evident in his eyes.

“Thanks Ellie; it’s important for your son to learn of his duties and responsibilities. It’s not all coronets and ermine. These days the estate needs careful husbandry if it’s to remain intact and viable, not to mention maintaining the house.”

“Well there’s no need to burden him with all that just yet, he’s still just a little boy.”

“Where is he by the way?”

“Still at school. I’ll be collecting him at three.”

“May I join you? Best we get re-acquainted as soon as –. I’m afraid I’ve been a bit remiss in keeping contact with you and Callum. Mostly my wife you understand. She never was keen on you but I’m as much to blame. He is my grandson after all and I should have put my foot down. I will in future and your family will always be welcome. There’s an open invitation to stay any time as long as you like and as often as you like. If you come to live with us, it would be even better. There's plenty of room, you know the house well. “

Ellie nodded as she went to make some more tea. Nana Charlotte had anticipated the on-going hospitality duties and met her at the kitchen door with a tray of cups, cakes, biscuits, milk and sugar. The teapot was soon to follow as Nana Charlotte got organised.

“You take the cakes through; I’ll bring a fresh pot. Just Fancy, our Callum a duke! I knew Henry was posh but a duke no less!”

“Don’t go running away with yourself Nan,” Ellie grinned, “being a duke these days is nothing like when you were a girl. Harry has to watch the pennies just like all of us.”

They chatted over tea until Ellie reminded them of the time.

“We’ll have to fetch Callum, come on.”

The journey to the school proved an ideal moment for Ellie and her father-in-law to iron out several wrinkles regarding the new relationship between Ellie and her in-laws. Fortunately, Harry was fully in agreement for the bottom line was that Callum was the only surviving heir to the title if it was to remain in the family. Harry chatted at length with his daughter in law, mainly apologising for neglecting them since Henry’s death. Ellie felt a little resentful that now Callum was the last repository for the dukedom to remain in and with the family name, the family were beginning to show an interest. However, she knew the main fault lay with the duchess not Henry’s father or more particularly Henry’s now departed grandfather. The last duke had always made Ellie most welcome. She was prepared to forgive them for the sake of Henry’s memory and the old grandfather whom she had truly loved. However she was not prepared to let Callum’s birthright cause a breakup of her own little family circle.

They arrived at the school and Ellie could not help but notice the different response Callum used towards his grandfather. The little child was cautious and reserved as they were introduced whereas with the old duke Callum would have simply flung himself into his great-grand-father’s arms and demanded a story. She put the different responses down to the fact that Callum’s father had hardly seen the boy whereas Callum was never far from his old great grandfather when Henry had been alive. It was the old duke who had introduced the child to the joys of swimming in the pond during hot summer days. This was despite paying visitors staring aghast at the seeming abuse of the great estate until they learned that the old man enjoying a swim in the pond was in fact the owner of the great house and the surrounding landscaped scenery. Now Callum was set to inherit everything.

On the return journey Harry noticed Callum’s reserve and explained to Ellie.

“I’ll have to break the ice with him. Dad was wonderful with him, I’m not sure I can work the same magic.”

“If he comes to stay often enough, he’ll get to like you. Just do all the stuff your dad used to do. It’s your estate now, you’re in charge.”

Harry sensed the hidden suggestion and nodded sagely.

“You mean don’t let his grandmother the duchess get her claws into him.”

“Would she really be cruel to a little boy? He is her only grandson after all.”

“I’m sure she’ll change now he’s the come by the title. He’s automatically an earl now you know, the Earl of Chartmoor. That’s the name of the great heath on the estate that is of such concern to the national trust’s wild-life department. The snakes and the lizards you understand, all very rare and endangered. Fortunately I know his cousins; that’s David’s daughters you understand, dote on him. Things will work out I’m sure.”

Ellie smiled to reassure the Duke.

“They will. I’ll make sure of that. In fact I’ll bring him up for the Easter weekend and maybe he could stay for the Easter holidays. Perhaps you or one of the staff could bring him back or I’ll fetch him.”

“Oh, I was hoping sooner than Easter.”

“I can’t get away, Nana would have to bring him up by train, or you pick him up in a car. It’s a long drive from here to Yorkshire. Besides, there’s his schooling. He’ll be going up to a new school this summer with all his friends and stuff. I want to try and maintain some continuity in his life. He's lonely enough as it is, what with being an only son and living out here in the cottage.”

“We could enrol him in a prep school. The attendance regulations tend to be less onerous.”

“What, you mean residential?”

The duke sensed Elli’s disapproval.

“Well, yes. They’re very good with young children.”

“For heaven’s sake he’ll only just have turned seven. No way. He stays here with me and the family. He’s already lost his dad; let’s not take his mum away as well.”

“But prep school would prepare him for Eton!”

“Eaton!” Ellie squeaked. “Who said anything about Eaton?”

“The Duke’s of Denton have always gone to Eaton. It’s a family tradition. The education is superb.”

Ellie shook her head then explained.

“Callum’s bright. He’s already inherited my head for figures and Henry was no slouch. He won’t need all the trappings of Eaton to progress his life. I’ll let him decide that as and when he’s thirteen.”

“But we’d have to put his name down now.”

“Okay! Put his name down then by all means, but that doesn't make it a certainty. Nothing's cast in stone. That just gives him the option but the issue will be decided as and when.”

Harry fell silent but repeated his hope.

“I’d still like him to come over before Easter. He can get to know his grandmother and that’s important.”

“I’ll let him come with his great grandmother. Then he’ll have a chaperone.”

Harry grinned.

“You make it sound as though he's at risk or something but yes, a chaperone might be good idea so that he's got a familiar face with him.
Well I must be gone, there’s a funeral to arrange. I hope you’ll come to that.”

“Of course I will; I liked David. He and Henry were very alike. It’s such an awful loss.”

“Indeed Ellie. I’ve lost both my sons to violent deaths.”

Ellie teared up slightly and gently kissed the duke on the cheek.

“We’ll be there Harry, all the family including Callum. Now have some tea before your taxi comes. I wish you would stay the night.”

“Thank you but I must get on. I’ve got to meet with his regimental commander in London concerning the funeral. David died on active service.”

“Of course.”

They sat drinking tea until the taxi swept onto the front path then Ellie watched him depart down the road. Inside she discussed the issue with her dad.

“What d’ you think?”

“So long as they don’t try to kidnap him and mould him into one of their own.”

“Oh I’ll make sure they won’t! My only worry is the Duchess. She and I never hit it off.”

“That’s going to have to change. After all, she is his only grandmother.”

“And Nana Charlotte is his only great grandmother.”

At that moment Ellie’s grandmother returned to the drawing room.

“I am indeed. Don’t worry darling. Whenever Callum goes up there, I’ll see to it they don’t brainwash him.”

They all chuckled and sat down to table.

Two weeks later, they attended Ellie’s brother-in-law David’s funeral at the village church next to the Denton estate. It was orchestrated with full pomp and ceremony by his regiment and Ellie was quite moved by the occasion. She was actually wiping some tears from her eyes when the duchess appeared at her side. She was also crying.

“I’m going to miss him. It makes Henry’s death even more painful now I’ve lost all my sons.”

Ellie turned and nodded and was surprised when the duchess reached out.

“I’ve been wrong to judge you as I have.”

“How so?” Ellie asked, slightly on the defensive.

“Callum’s a lovely child. He’s a credit to you. Last night he and David’s daughters shared the evening with me while you discussed the arrangements. The girls love him and that says a lot. I hope you’ll bring him often.”

“As often as we can and if he’s agreeable. He’s a sensitive child but a very bright one. He’s inherited both my and Henry’s brains.”

“Indeed. Henry was the brightest of my children. Getting to Cambridge proved that. You were a state scholar I understand. You must be extremely bright.”

Ellie tried to play her brains down. Back in the mundane world of less academic people she hid her light under a bush.

“Oh it's not like that. Math’s is the easiest scholarship to win. You either get it right or wrong. Henry had to work harder to get in with English and history. Those subjects depend more upon the assessor’s subjectivity.”

“He had to cram hard at Eaton. I remember all the hard work and tears.” The duchess allowed.

“Exactly,” Ellie replied. “He often had to write long essays with lot's of research; especially the history stuff. Maths was a doddle for me though the physics was a drudge. It was too mundane and predictable, at least at undergraduate level. If I hadn’t taken the double degree, I could have been a really flighty dolly bird and still won a first in Maths alone. Instead I chose to face a challenge.”

“But you didn’t return to the Ivory tower. Call me Molly by the way please. We can’t continue as combatants. It’s wont good for Callum.”

Ellie smiled and relaxed.

“I’m glad you said that. It’s all about Callum now. He’s got his life to consider and the dukedom will weigh heavily when he comes to realise.”

“Of course. Has Harry told you about his prostate?”

“Yes but it’s not life threatening is it?” Ellie frowned.

“Not right now but it could erupt again at any time. Long term plans mustn’t be too optimistic. I hoped you signed the inheritance papers.”

“Oh yes." Ellie confirmed. "I understand the issues. It will be seven years before the estate is free of potential death duties. Harry will have to live for the next seven years. And of course, there’s the trust arrangements.”

“So are you happy to be an estate executor and trustee should Harry die earlier?”

“Yes, of course. I deal with a lot of law back in Poole with my job. Acting as an executor for Callum is something I’ve been agreeable to since learning of David’s death. I’ve also helped my boss in Poole make her will. That was a major exercise because she owns a shipping line and she’s adopted several transgendered children. It’s all very complicated.”

“But you’re not a lawyer.”

Not yet but I’m studying in my spare time.”

“Gosh, you’re a busy girl aren’t you? How do you find the time?”

“Studying comes naturally. I was state scholar don’t forget. Law is logical and that’s easy for a mathematician. It’s the interpretations and case-law that require the reading. I’m taking my articles in two years; I am studying in my spare time d’ you see.”

“You amaze me girl. It’ll be good to have a lawyer on the team; one in the family as it were. One who we all know will have Callum’s interests at heart. Come on. Let’s go and face the others. I’m glad we’ve had this talk”

“Lead on your grace.”

“Oh call me Molly please. We are family after all. You are the mother of my only grandson and he is now an earl.”

Ellie grinned to herself as they rejoined the rest of the family.

Still no title.

Chapter 4
Ellie was back in her office busy catching up with work when her boss spoke from the hall.

“Ah Miss Ellie, did those charter parties arrive today.”

Ellie’s boss, Miss Beverly had just returned from London and her voice carried through the door even as she entered the little dockside office. Ellie looked up; smiled because she was always glad to see her employer, and nodded her head.

“Yes, I’ve left a brief analysis on your desk. Did you not get my text message?”

“Sorry. My phone battery went dead. Stupid me, I forgot to charge it last night.”

“I suspected as much. There’s a freshly charged spare in the drawer of your desk. D’you want a cuppa.”

“You’re an angel darling, come through and I tell you what’s afoot. It’s been an interesting day up in London.”

Ellie made the tea and joined Miss Beverly in the inner sanctum.

“So how did it go?”

“Oh the meeting you mean?” Not too badly. There’s potential for the trade but it will mean a trip up to the Humber to examine a suitable terminal at a suitable price. Money’s tight d’you see.”

“Money’s always tight,” Ellie replied with a knowing grin.

Miss Beverly nodded wryly then took a sip of tea before looking up directly into Ellie’s eyes.

“D’ you think you could handle it, a brief visit to Humberside to check what’s available.”

“I depends what the brief is. What are we looking for?”

“Two things mainly; berth access and cargo handling space from the practical sense - and trade volumes as it affects viability. We’ve got spare capacity in the new ship.”

They chatted at length about various aspects until after six then closed up the office for the night. The irregular hours did not bother Ellie for her job was stimulating and interesting while her child-care needs were amply attended to by her Nana Charlotte and her father William. Miss Beverly finally stood up, stretched and nodded towards the door.

“Time for home I think. See you tomorrow and we’ll get on with the business plan. Bring your calculator, though I hardly think you’ll need it with your brain. By the way, what're you doing the weekend?”

“Nothing much. Preparing to take Callum up’t-north to his paternal roots. Weekend after next is Easter. He’ll be staying with his grandparents for a fortnight.”

Miss Beverly nodded thoughtfully.

“Ah! Chance to kill two birds with one stone I’m thinking.”

Ellie looked up and frowned.

“How so?”

“If we move quickly on the plan you could do your survey of the Humber during the same fortnight. Then you could stay with your boy each night. Your in-laws are up that way aren’t they?

“South Yorkshire, yes, Denton hall’s ‘bout twenty miles north of the Humber.”

“Serendipity then, let’s get on with this study. Can I leave the freight analysis in your hands while I price the projected cost modifications to the ship, I’ll be busy on the phone all day.”

Ellie nodded and settled comfortably into that which she knew best – figures.

Much of the work that week was devoted to the new trade expansion.

When Easter arrived, Nana Charlotte took ill and regretfully had to curtail her trip north. Ellie’s father, Bill had to stay behind to look after her but nobody wanted to disappoint Callum so Ellie took him north and the Duchess of Denton was more than agreeable to looking after her only grandson at the family seat of Denton Hall. When Callum’s female cousin’s learned that they would be his sole companions they were delighted and almost immediately the four jelled together as full advantage was taken of the vast estate and the ponies that bore them around it. On the second week the weather deteriorated and the children were house-bound when not enjoying excursions to York or Leeds. Callum was introduced to Jessica who had now returned to her regular home at the York Railway Museum where she had become a virtually static exhibit.

It was during the midweek that Molly the Duchess quietly approached Ellie after the evening dinner. Ellie was in the library comparing various factors about different cargo berths as she decided on the best options. She looked up as the heavy mahogany library door latch clicked softly and Molly the Duchess stepped silently in.

“Are you terribly busy Ellie?” She asked.

Ellie smiled.

“No, not really. I was just filling in an hour before I put Callum to bed. He’s upstairs with the girls.”

“Well it’s about Callum I wish to speak.”

“Go on.” Ellie prompted suspiciously.

“Would you like to come upstairs; I wish to show you something.”

Ellie was intrigued and followed the Duchess. Upstairs they entered the girl’s bedroom wing and Molly softly opened the door to the oldest sister’s bedroom. There on the bed lay four figures in pretty nightgowns. The older girl was reading a story to the three younger ones. All four turned at the click of the latch and Callum paled when he recognised his mother. He tried to pull the eiderdown over his shoulders but it proved impossible with the others girls also lying on it. Fear began to creep into his eyes but he tried to feign casualness.

“Uh; hello Mummy!”

“Hello darling, enjoying the story?”

“Uuhm – yes.”

“What’s it about?”

“A horse who gets sold.”

“Black beauty?” The older girl Lucy elaborated.

“Oh I loved that story when I was a little girl as well,” Ellie replied.

“And me,” Molly added. “Are you enjoying it Callum?”

Callum nodded as his throat tightened.

“Well make sure you go to sleep when it’s over.” Molly finished. “Carry on Lucy and thanks for doing the story duty tonight.”

The three girls let out a collective gasp of relief as Molly and Ellie withdrew. However, both mother and grandmother stood listening outside the door as they listened to the four children expressing their relief.

“Your mum didn’t mind!” Lucy almost squealed with amazement.

Callum didn’t answer but Eleanor chipped in.

“Maybe she’ll tell you off when she puts you to bed.”

“I hope not.” Callum croaked. Can we finish the story?”

“Are you going to sleep in it?”

The youngest girl Virginia asked.

“I’d like to,” Callum replied but it’s up to mum.

“I don’t suppose she’ll let you,” Lucy finished, “and they’ll probably make you sleep in the other bedroom. I’ll finish the story anyway.”

She re-commenced reading and outside the door the Duchess turned to Ellie.

“Well. Will you?”

“Will I what?”

“Let him sleep in the nightie.”

“No harm in it I suppose.” Ellie replied, trying to sound nonchalant.

“D’you think he’s one of those?” Molly pressed.

“What d’you mean – ‘One of those’?”

“You know; a transvestite or something.”

“Would it matter if he was?” Ellie challenged the older lady.

“Well; no I suppose not, but he is in line for the dukedom.”

“His father wouldn’t have minded. Henry was very open-minded”

Molly tensed up.

“How would you know?”

“I spent three years at Cambridge with him, remember. His rowing partner in the lightweight sculls was a transvestite. Henry counted him and the other transgender girls amongst his best friends. We often went dancing and shopping with them. They are great people provided you don’t abuse them. After I got to know them, I thoroughly enjoyed their company and so did Henry.”
Molly let out a small gulp.

“Did Henry cross dress?”

“No. Well not to my knowledge and he knew I enjoyed their company so I think he would have told me if he did. We often joined in their chats when the subject came up, and it came up almost every time we went out with them. His best mate James was a transvestite. Jackie was her femme name; come to think of it, she, Jackie that is, might even be transsexual. However; to answer your question; no, Henry wasn’t a cross dresser or a transsexual as far as I knew; and I knew him intimately, we slept together almost every night in our final year. But Henry was completely tolerant of them of all Jackie's friends. That’s what I liked about him; his tolerance. He was the only toff I met who didn’t have any reserve about us ‘oiks’. That’s what drew me to him. His title actually counted against him in my eyes when we first met.
Molly let out a sigh of seeming relief.

“We’re not monsters you know.”

“But you used to be and class memories are very long in some parts of the country. Anyway, I think I can say with certainty that your son never cross-dressed around me and that was when we were married as well.”

“Well thank God for that, there’s hopes for Callum yet. Henry sometimes slept in his sister’s nighties when he was young and we all thought he was a transvestite. It was no small relief when he came home with you from Cambridge because we thought he was gay.”

“But you still disapproved of me.”

“I wondered if you were either some sort of oddball who liked transvestites or a gold-digger.”

Ellie stared hard at Molly.

“I do like transvestites and I’m proud of that, not ashamed. You know I’m not a gold digger for I never came begging for money. Since Henry died I never once came begging but I resented the fact I was never once invited to Denton with Callum after being widowed. I still associate with my and Henry’s transvestite college friends and James is still a wonderful friend to me. He was the biggest support to me when Henry was killed. He was as distraught as I was.”

“I don’t remember seeing him at the funeral.”

“He, James that is, didn’t come as such but Jackie came! Jackie is James’ female persona; James calls herself Jackie now and she lives full time as a woman. Jackie works at Chester Zoo in the Animal welfare section. She’s training to be a vet post grad at Liverpool.”

“Oh! Was that the pretty blond girl, very tall as I remember?”

Ellie gave Molly an old look.

“Of course she’s tall, she’s Trans’ but I noticed you talking to her a lot at the funeral.”

“Well she was a good conversationalist, so she was a man then! I must say I am surprised, I didn’t realise.”

Ellie bristled slightly but added.

“James is a great guy though I know her as Jackie these days. She’s ‘full time’. We still meet often, usually in Birmingham or Bristol. I find her company very fulfilling and rewarding. We’re both scientists d’ you see.”

“Oh. Ah, I understand now; so it’s a strictly platonic relationship then.”

Ellie sighed.

“Well done, you’ve got it.”

Molly frowned.

“Be patient with me Ellie, I can’t help but be concerned for my only grandson.”

Ellie smiled softly, she was getting to like Molly as her mother-in-law proved her seemingly new-found sincerity was motivated by genuine concerns and not disapproval. Ellie pushed the envelope.

“What would you do if Callum did prove to be Trans?”

“How d’you mean?”

“Well what if he turned out to be transvestite?”

“It would be very difficult to live as a duke.”

“I don’t think so Molly, leastways not in today’s climate. Things have moved on a lot in that area. He could still get married and give you great grandchildren, if you live that long.”

“But what respectable girl would marry a transvestite?”

“Excuse me Molly!! Jackie is married; her wife also works at Manchester University. They are happily married. I meet her as well; they are even talking of children. Jackie functions perfectly as a biological man and potential father. She just prefers to live as a woman.”

“Really. I’d like to meet this couple.”

“What, d’ you mean 'you'd like to meet them? You mean like ‘An audience with the duchess’?” This is twenty ten not eighteen ten! They might decide they don't want to meet you. Jackie is like most tee-people, she's very alert and sensitive to hypocrites."

Molly frowned as she sensed Ellie was censuring her.

“Don’t be silly girl. Our family is not like that at all! I thought Harry would have taught you that much at least.”

It was Ellie’s turn to grin.

“Alright then. Well I suppose could arrange it. I'll sound Jackie out, she was and still is very fond of Callum. Now the more difficult question is – What if Callum turns out to be transsexual?”

“I’m sorry, explain please.”

“What if Callum turns out to be transsexual and wants to be a woman? That would mean Genital Correction surgery?”

“What, you mean remove everything? No more babies and stuff.”

“Yes. Hormones, orchidectomy, vaginoplasty, the full works.”

“I’d be sad, disappointed about no children. Then the dukedom would definitely go out of the family.”

“It wouldn’t have to. Sperm can be frozen. Same sex marriages are legal. Callum could still father a child by freezing his sperm before he chooses gender reassignment.”

“He’d have to marry the girl first then have the op. Sallic law and all that; you know; ‘wrong side of the blanket’ illegitimacy and so on.”

Ellie grinned again.

“Boy-oh-boy! That would make some interesting case law for the heraldic courts. Two women with a legitimate son who is the legal heir to the title. The family coat of arms should prove interesting what with heraldic rules and all that stuff. I suppose the new law of Royal succession could have a bearing on Sallic law and all that.”

Molly smiled and wagged her head in confused amusement.

“Come on! I need a drink after all that, lets join the others. Anyway, Callum might just be enjoying it for the fun of playing with his cousins.”

“Whatever. I’ll chat with him about it when he’s less stressed and frightened. All I ask is you don’t scold him or make an issue of it if it persists. If it’s a problem, it’s my problem, I’m his mum.”

“Duly noted,” Molly concluded as she poured herself a sherry and offered Ellie a soft drink.

As Elli took a sip Molly studied her.

“Have you never drunk?”

Ellie nodded.

“Yes. I still do sometimes; Christmas and the like, but I was nearly raped once in high-school. I was drunk, under-age and stupid. Just put it down to growing up.”

“Well I think most of us have been there girl. Bottoms up.”

An hour later, Ellie and the Duchess crept away from the other adults again to check on the children. They found Callum curled up in Lucy’s bed with Lucy spooned around him like a protective mother. The other girls were also sharing the other bed in Lucy’s room and the Duchess smiled.

“My children often slept together, especially when very young. This place can spook a young child.”

“What, even the boys?” Ellie wondered.

“Yes, as I said, my children - all of them. They were very young and there was no central heating back then. Are you happy to let him sleep with the older girls? I’m sure he’ll come to no harm. Lucy’s a very motherly girl.”

Ellie smiled then stifled a chuckle.

“Isn’t it usually the girls who are at risk?”

Molly snorted with amusement.

“Don’t be silly he’s not yet five. What possible issues could there be? Lucy’s twelve!”

“Doctors and nurses perhaps?” Ellie giggled.

“Well we’ll put him back in his own bed then if you wish.” Molly offered.

“No, no; I was joking - honestly. Let them sleep. It might send the wrong message to him if I wake them up and separate him from them. He’s so enjoyed their company and the pony rides were a delight. There doesn’t look to be much going on at the moment. Shall we leave them?”

“I’ll warn the girls’ mother Julie you’ll be off early in the morning I’m thinking.”

“Yes. Out by seven, I want to catch the low water to check one of the tidal berths we are interested in. It’s a river berth but very handy if the dock wall and everything else is in good repair. It’s got excellent road links from the wharf to the Humber Bridge.”

Molly stared hard at Ellie.

“You cover a lot of subjects don’t you, maths, physics, law, commerce, engineering, ports and transport. Is there anything you don’t do?”

Ellie’s face darkened momentarily as a cloud seemed to cross her smile.

“I don’t seem to do mothering very well. I should see more of Callum. I’m wondering if I’ve neglected him too much. I’m wondering if this nightie thing is a product of that neglect. I’m wondering is he just wants to belong to his cousin’s gang.”

Molly nodded at the last suggestion.

“I think your last thought is closer to the bone, possibly it’s more a companionship thing. He must get lonely being an only child and he certainly enjoys his cousin’s attention and company.”

“Well I’ll try and get back early tomorrow afternoon and we might have a little chat with him then.”

“It sounds like a plan. What time about?”

“About three-ish, maybe four. They should be back from riding by then.”

Molly nodded and the arrangement was fixed.

Chapter 5

The early morning found Ellie sharing a small inflatable with a couple of port authority engineers boat as she closely examined the dock wall and sounded the berth for depth and quality of bottom. What she was hoping for was sufficient depth so that the ship would always be afloat and when she had completed her survey she was satisfied that the berth had ticked more boxes than all the other berths she had seen. Not perfect of course; not many berths ever were but it was the best option so far. Some work would have to be done to stabilise the old dock wall and reduce the need for constant dredging. In a muddy tidal estuary such as the Humber, there would always be some need for dredging and that would have to be factored in.

After chatting at length with Miss Beverly, her boss agreed to come up on the Friday. This arrangement meant Ellie had the Wednesday and Thursday off and therefore some quality-time with her son. She went home early to Denton Hall that Tuesday afternoon.

As she drove up the drive she was pleased to see Callum on his pony galloping up from the lake and draw level with her car as she pulled up outside the house.

“Hello Mummy!” He called excitedly.

“Hello darling. Where are the girls?”

“Down in the lower hundred. They’ve found a badger set.”

As he dismounted, Ellie noticed he was wearing girl’s stretch jodhpurs. This concerned her because Ellie knew he had boy’s jodhpurs for she had purchased them when they arrived. She said nothing and he joined her as they entered the house via the main front doors. Ellie smiled to herself. Heretofore she had always driven around the side when visiting but today she just felt she had full rights to use the main entrance for she was, after all, now the mother of the only heir to the dukedom. Her position in the family was assured.

As she climbed the steps, no less than the Duchess herself emerged to meet her. Ellie smiled inwardly, - such a ‘family style welcome’ served only to reinforce her new position. The duchess smiled, extended her arms and embraced her daughter-in-law before they turned to enter the house.

“Hello Ellie, made it back early then?”

“I’ve got the rest of the week off, I think I’ve found the best berth option and Miss Beverly’s coming up to view it on Friday. That means I’ve got Wednesday and Thursday free.”

“Oh. That’s nice. Would she like to stay here?”

Ellie hesitated, the invitation was unexpected.

“I’m not sure if she can. I think she’s staying in Sheffield because she’s got some business to discuss with the steel-maker’s federation. I’ll ask her though when I speak to her later. She’ll be out on the quay in Dorset at the moment; one of the ships arrived just now.”
As Ellie finished, Molly noticed Callum’s jodhpurs. She turned to Ellie and spoke quietly.

“His riding outfit? Girl’s blouse as well.”

Ellie nodded as her concerns furrowed her brow.

“He’s got boys stuff. I kitted him out when we came.”

“Any idea why?” Molly asked.

“Not yet. I’ll chat to him inside.”

“Let me know what he says. It looks more serious than we thought.”

“We’ll see.” Ellie replied as her stomach knotted with anxiety.

After she had tied up a couple of loose ends over the mobile phone Ellie decided an excellent way to share some time with Callum would be to accompany him on a ride around the estate. After sharing some tea and scones with him, she went to change then met him by the stables where he was grooming his pony. He looked around surprised to find his mother kitted out for riding.

“I didn’t know you could ride mummy.”

“Your dad taught me before you were born darling. I know my way around the whole estate because we did lots of our courting here. D’ you want to come for a ride?”

“Yes please!” He replied eagerly. “That’d be brilliant!”

“Come on then, we’ll ride out to the Heath then down through the large woods and follow the river to the junction with the Ouse. We can then ride back through the lower hundred acre wood and we might bump into your cousins.”

She relished the smile on his face as he joined her in the stable to help her saddle up.

“Is your pony agreeable to another ride?” She asked him.

“I think so. He’s only been wandering with the other ponies while we were in the lower hundred acre wood. He hasn’t done much all day except trot out to the lake then walk to the hundred.”

Ellie nodded with satisfaction as they finished saddling their mounts. They told the groom what their intentions were and soon they were trotting
easily up to the ridge. As they crested the brow of the hill, they then turned to follow it along to the beginning of the heath. At the edge of the trees she turned to survey the extensive landscape. She noticed Callum following her gaze and she smiled t him.

“You know all this will be your land when Grandpa Harry dies.”

Callum’s eyes widened with distress.

“He’s not going to die is he?”

“No darling, not yet but he is quite old. When he does, I’ll be here to help you run the estate until you’re eighteen, - and after, if you want me.”

“I don’t want to think about it, come on, let’s ride.”

They followed the track further up onto the heath then, when the country opened up, Ellie increased to a canter before extending to a gallop. She was immensely pleased that Callum showed little fear as he matched her pace as best his smaller pony could.

After half a mile along a well marked path they fell to an easy trot and after a quarter of an hour, Callum turned with a little frown.

“I want a wee.”

They pulled up and she watched with surprise as he tugged down his jodhpurs and promptly squatted to urinate like a girl. Then he took out a tissue from his hacking jacket and promptly wiped himself. Ellie knew full well that boys normally just shook it and she sucked her lip thoughtfully as he wriggled his elasticated jodhpurs back up to his waist and tucked his blouse. She chose to walk back slowly while she carefully broached the subject. After some casual chat about the estate and his being an heir to the dukedom, she gradually brought the conversation around to growing up to become a duke, becoming a man, getting married and becoming a father. Eventually after she had established his feelings about growing up she asked him frankly.

“I’ve noticed you wore that nightie last night and you’re wearing some of your cousins’ old clothes even now. Will you want to wear ladies clothes when you grow up?”

Callum fell silent as uncertainty clouded his features.

“Are you angry?”

“No darling. I simply want to know why.”

He fell silent for several seconds before revealing that he didn’t know why – he just liked it. Ellie nodded slowly and waited for him to reveal more. Finally he asked.

“Can I wear them mummy?”

Ellie hesitated before answering.

“What if your cousins laugh or tell the others?”

“Who?” Callum wondered. “Which others?”

Ellie realised her son was right, there were no ‘others’. Her son only had two close friends in his old school and now he was going up to middle school there would be a complete change of environment and friendships. His friends might accompany him or go to different schools because they lived in different catchment areas. Ellie or her ‘olds’ had always ferried Callum quite a way to the junior school because their cottage was out in the country. She answered truthfully.

“Well at the moment darling, I don’t know. As you grow up you might find nasty people in lots of places. I’ll have a chat with Bampi Bill and Grandpa Harry before I say yes.”

“Grandma Molly has seen me in my nightie, and Auntie Julie, they don’t seem to mind.”

Ellie thought back to how much she and the duchess had become friends in the weeks since David’s death. She knew it was much to do with Callum becoming the only male heir but she could not fault Molly for wanting what was best for the family, – her family, - Ellie’s family. There was also the matter of David’s widow Julie, - her sister-in-law and her daughters, - Callum’s cousins. How would they take to Callum choosing to live for long periods in female mode?

They walked and talked all the way back through the other end of the hundred-acre wood until they met the three cousins preparing to ride back. It was obvious they had been ‘skinny dipping’ in the lake because each girl’s hair was wet, straggly and smeared with mud.

“My God girls! Weren’t you cold?”

They were shivering but in high spirits so Ellie threw her riding coat over the middle girl Eleanor while Callum volunteered his warm hacking jacket for the youngest girl Virginia. Once covered, they cantered home and the girls immediately dashed up to bathe while Callum helped the groom with the horses. Ellie was pleased at his thoughtfulness and willingness to help stable the horses. Later she was telling the Duchess and her sister-in-law about the girls going swimming at Easter time.

“I tell you the water is still freezing cold! They could have suffered from Hypothermia!”

At that moment the four children burst squealing into the drawing room in their nighties. Molly scolded them for just bursting in and not excusing themselves but Ellie noticed she said nothing about Callum wearing the nightie, nor did Julie. Ellie took some quiet reassurance from that. The children were sent into the family room and given hot chocolate then told if they wanted to stay up for dinner they had better get dressed.

As Ellie listened to the squeals and shrieks she turned to Julia.

“It’s lovely to hear children’s voices in such a huge house. It would be like a mausoleum otherwise.”

Julie turned as Molly released a soft involuntary sob at the word ‘mausoleum’.

“Come on Gran; cheer up, just be pleased you’ve got grandchildren to indulge. I know you miss your boys.”

Ellie stepped across and gave Molly a hug while Julie made her a cup of tea. They sat the duchess down on the settee and each took a hand to comfort her. No words were necessary; both daughters-in-law had suffered widow-hood. At that moment the Duke entered and studied the females in his life.

“Did I just see Callum in a nightie?”

“You did,” Julie answered, “and before you go off on one, remember your Uncle Mortimer used to dress. He still won the George Cross so let’s not be criticizing the boy.”

“Who told you about Mortimer’s cross-dressing?”

“Who d’ you think!” Julie spluttered, “David of course.”

Harry sighed then grinned.

“Well it’s all perfectly true but if Callum turns out as well as Uncle Mortimer, he’ll do all right”

He turned to Ellie and asked.

“Does it bother you Ellie?”

“What? Cross dressing? No, not really. Henry’s best friend James was - and still is a cross dresser.”

“Oh yes, that girl Jackie, she came to his funeral didn’t she?”

“Yes.” Ellie confirmed as Harry nodded and added.

“Well Henry and Uncle Mortimer were always close so I suppose he learned tolerance from his great uncle.”

“Henry and Jamie were good friends,” Ellie emphasised, “they won several cups in the university regattas despite Jamie deciding to live full time as a girl – or should I say woman.”

“Well, I can live with Callum cross dressing but let’s hope he stays as a man otherwise no children - and the Denton name dies with him.”

“He can freeze his sperm, provided he chooses to go to puberty without changing gender.” Ellie pointed out.

“They usually do, don’t they?” Harry replied.

“Not these days, Julie added. They give transsexuals the choice much earlier, or at least they block the puberty.”

“Well I hope it doesn’t come to that, or at least, if it does; we can persuade him to delay it until he can freeze his sperm.”

Molly snorted with mild amusement.

“My God Harry, you make it sound like a stud farm! Give the poor child some space. Nobody knows where it’s going just yet. I’ll go and help them dress for dinner.”

It was Harry’s turn to grin as he asked.

“What if he wants to dress in a frock?”

Ellie shrugged and made a wry smile.

“Well what if he does? Julie just said, - Uncle Mortimer often did!”

Harry shrugged and grinned back at Ellie.

“It’s your call daughter-in-law.”

Ellie shrugged and looked at Julie for support. Julie nodded her support for Ellie.

“I wouldn’t make an issue of it for Callum. I met Jackie at the funeral and as nice a girl you couldn’t wish to meet though she confirmed she’s got a girlfriend. I must confess it confused me but - signs of the times and all that.”

“Okay then,” Harry concluded. If he does dress in a frock for dinner, we’ll not scold the boy.”

“So long as he doesn’t scare the horses,” Molly giggled mischievously.

“Hrrmph!” Harry snorted at his wife’s gentle jibe about the phlegmatic upper classes and retaliated with equal gentleness.

“Enough of that my good woman, you were happy enough to marry into this crazy, family. Besides’ the horses are not coming to dinner.”

“Yes darling, I’m glad you agreed your crazy family needed some fresh blood!”

Harry grinned and turned to his widowed daughters in law before replying to his wife.

“Well Julie and Ellie have certainly provided it. Is that tea still hot?”

Molly touched the pot and nodded as she poured her husband a cup. Ellie smiled inwardly as Harry pecked Molly on the cheek as he took the proffered cup.

‘The pair are still in love!’ She noted. It was a lovely cameo and even Julie exchanged a glance with Ellie as she noted the gentle exchange.

After chatting briefly, Ellie made her way to the children’s bedrooms where she found Callum and Virginia busy on the computer fighting some interminable war-game. She noted that both children had chosen to be heroines and once again and Callum had borrowed one of his cousin’s outgrown dresses. It was a typical lavender-blue, party creation with a tulle underskirt that caused it to flunce when Callum moved. Ellie swallowed nervously but decided to say nothing and later on, seek professional advice before raising the issues further with her son.

For the Wednesday and Thursday, Ellie took Callum and his cousins to various museums and other places of entertainment but on the Friday she met her boss Beverly in Leeds and then Sheffield. By the end of office hours, Beverly pretended to be quite fatigued and remarked that she was going to book a hotel room and spend the night in Leeds. Ellie suddenly remembered about the Duchess’s invitation so after a quick phone-call to the duchess she offered Beverly a room at Denton Hall.

At first Beverly was reluctant to take it for she had planned on a night of transgender clubbing at a regular ‘Leeds-First-Friday’ transgender event that was held monthly in Leeds. Finally she came to an ‘arrangement’ after lying about her intentions.

“I’ve got some stuff to see to and I’m meeting a potential customer tonight, I might not get back to the hall much before midnight. I’m not sure the Duchess would take kindly to somebody staying for dinner then buggering off for the evening before returning just to take a bed for the night. If I remember rightly, don’t these toffs like their guests to stay and entertain them for the evening after dinner?”

“You should have told me, I’ll advise her ladyship right now.”

Ellie scolded her gently as she re-dialled the duchess again:-

“You mean she wants to go back into Leeds after she’s had dinner here?” The Duchess queried.

“Yes.” Ellie reluctantly informed her.

“She must be a very busy lady.”

“She owns a shipping line Molly! Need I say anymore? It’s something she built entirely with her own efforts. She doesn’t work just office hours. It’s always business, business, business; there simply aren’t enough hours in the day for her.”

“Alright then I’ll agree. Though she sounds like a remarkable individual. I’ll bet she’s got a remarkable life story to tell. Try and encourage her to stay for Saturday then we can chat to her when we dine on Saturday evening.”

“Okay, I’ll try but she is truly a busy lady.”

“She must be if she works on Friday nights. I’m looking forward to dinner.”

“Okay then Molly, Bye for now.”

“Bye’ girl, see you later for dinner.”

Ellie closed her mobile and turned to Beverly with a smile.

“She wants you to sing for your supper, preferably on Saturday night.”

Beverly nodded sagely.

“See, I told you she would. So are you telling me I have to stay over for the weekend or not at all?”

“That seems like the gist of it. Your diary’s empty until Monday, I know I checked with the office. In fact I’m curious to know who you’re meeting tonight.”

Beverly smiled enigmatically.

“Never you mind little Miss nosey. They are old friends.”

Ellie grinned.

“Oh so it’s not just business then?”

“Not entirely, now enough, let’s get today’s business finished and we can visit your Duchess friend.”

Ellie suddenly realised, she hadn’t fully explained.

“Oh she’s not a friend; well she is but she’s also my mother in law. She’s the Duchess of Denton, Callum’s grandmother.”

Ellie was a little disappointed that Beverly didn’t seem unduly impressed as Beverly shrugged and grinned.

“Oh, so I’m moving amongst the nobility then, am I?”

“You knew they were upper-class, I told you last week.”

Beverly faked a broad Yorkshire accent.

“Eeeh aye but I din’t realise they were that ‘upper’! A duke by gum! I thought they were just minor gentry or summat’. I’d bez’ be on ma’ best be’aviour then as like.”

“Stoppit!” Ellie smiled as she scolded her boss.

They both chuckled as they resumed analysing figures. When they had finished, Ellie’s stomach was starting to grumble. Beverly smiled at her.

“Come on, I don’t want you dying of starvation on the road to York.”

~o00o~

As they swept through the gates to Denton Hall, Beverly grinned as she went ‘Yorkshire’ again.

“By ‘eck! I should’ve brought t’ best gown. What’s t’ouse like?”

“Will you Stoppit! It won’t be that formal, it’s only a normal family dinner. The children will be eating with us as well.”

“Hope they know their table manners; speak when spoken to and all that.”

Ellie punched Beverly affectionately on the arm as she returned the grin.

“Stoppit, I tell you. It’s not like that anymore. They’re a great bunch.”

“You have to say that, you’re family. I’m just a jumped up oik who’s made a bit o’ brass. Gosh! What a lovely setting!”

They had just emerged from the wooded part of the drive and the house lay before them nestled in the shelter of the ridge but with fine views to the south and west; - a perfect sun trap. They swept unannounced up to the large front door and stepped out. They were both stretching their arms as the door opened. The duke emerged alone.

“Ah! Hello Ellie and this lady is Miss Beverly I presume.”

“Yes Harry, my boss and friend; the lady who chose to employ me after Henry was killed.”

Harry reached out and shook Beverly’s extended hand before embracing her and touching cheeks. Beverly was amused and yet pleased with his friendliness. She had always thought the real nobility to be much more reserved. After separating, Harry called into the house and a young man in jeans and a plain white shirt emerged to take her bags. Harry explained.

“Don’t mind Eddie. He’s our footman and general factotum. He’s off duty now and going out for the night. He offered to stay and help us, provided you arrived in time – and you have. Thank you Eddie, see you on Sunday morning.”

“Yes sir.” The young man replied as he easily lifted both of Beverly’s suitcases up the steps and deeper into the house.

Harry led Beverly into the drawing room to meet the rest of the family. Beverly noted they were very casual except for Molly the Duchess, who was wearing a smart green velvet two-piece with a discreet gold necklace. Julie was wearing a pair of tailored trousers and a pretty embroidered top while the children were standing respectfully beside her in various tidy but casual clothes. Ellie was relieved to see Callum in seemingly androgynous jeans and a turquoise tee-shirt. Only a sharp-eyed observed would have recognised that the jeans closed on the left and his trainers were slightly effeminate but Ellie was basically at ease with his appearance.

It was obvious that this was not to be some formal dinner but an intimate family meal. Beverly was glad for she had only brought her normal business suite and an outfit to go clubbing in Leeds-First-Friday. It was not the sort of outfit one would wear to any dinner, - let alone a meal in a ducal seat. Fortunately there was no need to change and she was led into the dining room by Julie and Ellie.

The meal proved a great success. The duchess used her well honed conversational skills and extracted some of Beverly’s life story that mostly concerned her successful shipping venture and the various financial escapades she had experienced on the way to her success. Beverly skilfully avoided any aspects of her earlier life as a ship’s captain. More importantly, there were no revelations about her transgenderism.
She explained that she was meeting a prospective customer from Germany who was flying into Leeds-Bradford airport and she was picking the client up with a view to visiting Sheffield on the Saturday to meet some steel bosses. In fact, the German steel baron was also a transgendered friend and she had never been to Leeds-First-Friday. Beverly was yet again killing two birds with one stone; business and pleasure.

After changing in Denton Hall, she made her apologies and explained she would be back around one a.m. The Duchess looked askance at Beverly’s somewhat immodest dress but she explained it away by declaring that sometimes a girl had to wow a potential client. The duchess smiled knowingly as Beverly started her Aston Martin and scrunched softly on the gravel as she moved off slowly to avoid exciting the children, especially Callum now preparing for bed and also to avoid the dust cloud she had inadvertently raised on her arrival. The Duchess stood beside Ellie as the car picked its way carefully along the drive and they both exchanged grins as eventually the Aston’s full throated roar told them Beverly had joined the main road.

“Come on, let’s go and entertain the children. I noticed Callum and my grand-daughters all staring wistfully at the car.”

“Afraid so,” Ellie grinned. “Callum doesn’t know it yet but he’s travelling back to Dorset in that -Beverly’s treat. I’ll be following on in my car. I’ll be picking him up at Beverly’s cottage when I finally arrive home. Apparently she’s got quite a family.”

“I’m impressed.” Molly replied, “a business-woman and a mother as well.”

“You don’t know the half of it.” Ellie finished.

Chapter 6

Beverly woke to the sound of soft knocking on her bedroom door.

“Who is it?” She called in a somewhat croaky voice.

“Ellie.”

“Ooh, come in girl,” she called through the door.

Ellie entered and smiled knowingly.

“Morning you dirty stop-out. What time did you get back?”

Beverly smirked then stepped towards the bathroom and poured herself a glass of water before returning to answer Ellie’s question.

“’Bout half two-ish I think maybe three. I wasn’t checking my watch.”

“I didn’t hear the car.”

“It’s very quiet when just cruising very slowly. The crunch of the gravel is louder than the engine. She’s got an extra silencer, I don’t do the boy racer thing – much.”

“Didn’t sound like that when you hit the road yesterday evening.”

“I was late for the plane arriving at Leeds-Bradford.”

“Hope it didn’t wreck the business deal.”

“What – oh that, no there were just a couple of loose ends to tie up then we went to a club. Business and pleasure, like I told you. Though perhaps more pleasure than business.”

“Good time then, was it?”

Beverly grinned and squinted knowingly through her left eye.

“Oh yes. Leeds First Friday is a good night out. I’ll be coming up here more often – too Leeds that is!” Beverly hastily added before adding some details. “And before you ask any further, yes, we both enjoyed it very much. I poured her into bed about two-ish then dashed here. What time is it?”

“Nine o’clock,” Ellie replied, “are you up to facing breakfast?”

Beverly’s grimace slowly changed into a grin.

“Oh alright then; something light though, maybe some toast and coffee.”

“Get washed and dressed then. The children are taking the horses out later. D’you ride?”

Beverly looked shocked.

“Good God no! The children own their own horses at my cottage and Sian runs the riding school but I’ve never been on a horse in my life and I certainly don’t intend to start now.”

She slid out of bed, returned to her en-suite bathroom and stepped into the shower. Ellie watched through the smoked glass as Beverly yawned and stretched then groaned slightly. Ellie grinned sympathetically.

“So it was a good night then - obviously. How’s the hang-over.”

“I don’t have one my dear. I don’t drink. I’m just stiff; too much dancing I’m afraid, and my feet are sore from dancing in heels all night.”

“What! No drinking at all?”

“Well very little, maybe a sherry at Christmas; festive spirit and all that. I’m a good girl really.”

“Oh yeah. Clubbing ‘til you’re what – seventy? And then crawling home with the milk; you’re a dirty stop-out girl.”

She spotted a pair of monstrous platform heels sticking out from under the bed.

“Good god boss! Are these the heels you wore?”

“If they’re black with gold heels, yes.”

Ellie wagged her head in secret admiration.

“I’d have trouble in these bitches girl! – and you’re how old?”

“I’m old enough; they don’t I.D. me on the doors.”

“What would you use for ID.?”

“My OAP bus-pass, what else?”

Ellie chuckled and left her boss to it.

“I’ll meet you in the morning room. I’ve got to see to the children.”

After Ellie had gone, Beverly opened the cubicle door and examined herself in the opposite wall-length mirror. She smiled. Her feet still ached slightly but otherwise, the night out had left few signs so she stepped out of the shower feeling much refreshed. Twenty minutes later, she was nibbling on some toast as Ellie returned from the stables.

“Julie is sorting the children then leading them out to the edge of the moor. After that the kids will be on their own. They’ve each got mobiles
and the weather’s set fair so they’ll be gone for the whole day; have you got any plans?”

Beverly shrugged.

“No, this was a very late invitation so I didn’t make any plans for the weekend – just the Friday night. If you’re agreeable I’d like to go into York; they say it’s a pretty place.”

“York it is then,” Ellie agreed, “I’ll ask the duchess if she wants to come. We can go in my car if that beast of yours is too cramped.”

“Go in yours and yes, the two bucket seats in mine are okay for kids but the duchess and Julie would never fit. What shall we do in York there’s plenty to see.”

“What would you like, shopping or museums - or York Minster perhaps?”

“Forget the churches, I don’t do religion. What about doing the old town then a bit of shopping?”

“Clothes?” Ellie suggested knowingly.

“What else; will the dinner be more formal tonight? If it is I’ll need a gown or something.”

“We’d best ask Molly. I’ll go and find her.”

“How would you – oh!”

Ellie was already ringing the Duchess on her mobile and she grinned as it rang.

“God alone knows how they found anybody in this place before the days of mobile phones.”

“I suppose they had a thousand flunkies then.” Beverly sighed.

“And an elaborate system of bells.” Ellie explained. “The kitchen still has a whole raft of old call indicators. Some of them still work inside the house and the ones to the outbuildings are now electric.”

She handed her mobile to Beverly who asked. “Hello. Where are you your grace?”

“Oh don’t be so formal Miss Beverly, call me Molly. I’m in the stable yard with my other daughter-in-law still getting the children organised. I’ll be back in the breakfast room as soon as we’ve sent the children off for a ride. I’m just finishing dressing my grandson. Julie’s taking them off the estate and out into one of the dales. What is it you want anyway?”

“Oh, Uuuhm, I was wondering about dinner tonight. Will it be like last night or is it more formal.”

“Would you prefer more formal? I know my daughters and daughters-in-law don’t need much persuading to dress up in pretty gowns. Are you up for it?”

Beverly wondered for a moment then covered her mobile and asked Ellie.

“She’s giving me the choice, formal or casual; what d’you think?”

Ellie’s grin split her face from ear to ear.

“Formal gives you an excuse to go dress shopping. Good God girl, carpe diem!”

“Formal it is then. I’ll ask Molly if she’s game.” Beverly smiled knowingly as she returned to the mobile.

“Ellie suggests formal and I’m up for that, what about you?”

“Dammit girl! Try and stop me. I’ll invite my daughters over.”

“Tell her to warn the cook!” Ellie shouted over Beverly’s shoulder.

Molly laughed and replied.

“I’ll try and get a catering company to hire us a helper. We usually do that when we have a party these days. Let’s go and ask the cook what help she’ll need.”

In the kitchen while they discussed the cook’s needs, they heard the commotion in the yard as the children were setting off for their ride with Julie. Ellie and Beverly went out to see them off while Molly remained chatting to the cook. Beverly noticed that Callum was definitely wearing girl’s jodhpurs and a girl’s hacking jacket that buttoned up on the left. She said nothing. It was obvious that the family knew about it for the boy had been dressed by his grandmother that very morning. She joined Ellie briefly as they watched the riders depart then they both returned to the kitchen to chat to the cook.

By eleven the three ladies were driving to York where Beverly chose a suitable gown in Royal blue. Molly acted as a tour guide for she knew the city intimately and by six o’clock they were back at Denton Hall with two young catering students from the local college who were eager to earn some extra cash plus a night spent sleeping in the hall. At eight, the whole Denton family where sitting down to dinner. Beverly was sat on the Duke’s right hand as an honoured guest while Ellie took her usual place next to the Duchess. The rest of the family were spread out between the children to ensure good manners and equal shares. Callum sat opposite his mother on the other side of the Duchess at the other end of the table from the duke. Beverly noted that this time, Callum was dressed in male attire and she concluded that his aunts and their children did not know of the young earl’s cross dressing. She decided to remain shhtum and concentrated with chatting to the duke about ‘untin’, shootin’ an’ fishin’. It was not to be however.

The Duchess, like any good host was endeavouring to widen the conversation when she picked up on Ellie referring to Beverly as ‘The
Skipper’. Innocently she asked Ellie.

“Why d’you call her ‘The Skipper’?”

Ellie paused.

“I actually don’t know. I hear the stevedores and ship’s crews refer to her as ‘The Skipper’. It’s a sort of general parlance all over the quay and in our office. A mark of affection I think.”

Molly tapped gently on her glass to call for silence then innocently asked Beverly.

“Beverly; Ellie tells me you have a nick-name; ‘The Skipper’. Any particular reason how you came by it?”

Beverly paused as her mind raced momentarily then she remembered the little item of Callum’s cross-dressing for the morning ride. Here was a heaven sent opportunity to explore the issue a little further and find out about the young earl. She decided to be open and frank for there was no way the Denton family could affect her business affairs if they disapproved of her life-style. Beverly answered quite openly.

“Oh before I started the shipping line, I was a simple ship’s captain. I rescued a pair of children from a pirate attack in the Indian Ocean of The Horn of Africa and the girls copied the rest of my crew by calling me skipper. The name stuck with them and eventually everybody called me that.”

“You were a ship’s captain!” Molly asked wonderingly.

Ellie played it down deliberately. There was nothing like a lack of information to prick up people’s interest and Beverly was angling to bring the conversation around to Callum’s behaviour. She replied dismissively.

“Oooh yes, a long time ago, in another life.”

Naturally, Molly was hooked and wanted to know more, as did the rest of the table.

“Good gracious! A ship’s captain. How did the crew react to having a lady captain?”

Beverly took the plunge.

“I wasn’t a lady then, I was a man.”

A deafening silence fell upon the table as the chink of cutlery ceased and heads turned.

“A man!” Harry the Duke finally intoned.

Beverly nodded and smiled quite openly.

“Yes. I only began living as a woman since I formed my own business and I was free to live as I needed to live.”

“Without wishing to sound intrusive; how long ago was that?” Harry asked.

“Oooh, ‘bout ten years ago now.”

There was a pregnant pause while Harry recovered his composure before responding positively.

“Well done Miss Beverly!” Harry congratulated her. “You have shown commendable courage. All that gender business and building a shipping line to boot! Ellie spoke of you having children. How have they reacted to it?”

“We live happily in a beautiful converted farm near Poole in Dorset. They are my adopted children; the first two girls were the sisters I rescued from the pirate attack. Then I ended up taking in a couple more transgendered waifs and strays that were being abused because of their gender issues.

We later learned that the rescued sisters’ father was murdered by the pirates. However, their mother was taken by the pirates and abused in captivity for over a year before being rescued by a joint Franco-German military incursion into Somalia. The troops were looking for other hostages but, by a happy coincidence they discovered her while searching for other hostages. Later on I married their mother after the authorities established her husband was definitely dead. I have a child by her. I am, or more correctly, I was a father. Though my own child now sees me as a second mother.”

As the Denton family digested this information, Beverly smiled easily but shocked silence endured until Callum piped up with all the innocence of a child.

“If you’re a father, have you still got a willie?”

Ellie almost choked with embarrassment while the silence became more ‘deafening’, then she finally recovered her composure and warned her son!

“Callum! Don’t be so rude!”

“What?” The boy pressed innocently.

Like a skilled hostess, Molly quickly retrieved the situation by explaining to the boy.

“That is a very private matter between Miss Beverly and whoever she wishes to share it with. You mustn’t ask personal questions like that, it’s rather rude young man.” She turned apologetically to Beverly. “I’m so sorry, I’m sure he had no wish to be rude.”

Beverly grinned easily to help relax the tension further.

“No harm done, and for the record,” she turned directly to Callum – “you see young man, I’ve only recently transitioned after fathering my child.”

“What does ‘trasition’ mean?” Callum asked getting the word slightly wrong.

Beverly continued smiling to reassure him.

“Well, the answer to your question Callum is no; I don’t have my ‘willie’ as you call it, any-more.”

Harry intervened tactfully to move the conversation away from Beverly’s gender issue.

“So tell us more about how you rescued the girls.”

The whole table relaxed as Beverly described the events and the follow-up story as to how she ended up adopting the girls in a foreign country. Her story raised the occasional chuckle, the odd gasp and sometimes a curse as issues touched upon the cruelties associated with being transgendered. Eventually Beverly’s tale was finished and Molly stood up.

“Well my word! This has been absolutely exciting!” Molly gasped. “Who would have thought we have a real live heroine at our table. Shall we go into the drawing room?”

Once they had removed to the drawing room Callum immediately latched onto Beverly.

“When I grow up, I want to be like you.”

Beverly smiled and bent forward to kiss him on the forehead.

“You’d better just wait and see darling. You’re a bit young to do anything just yet.”

“Will you help me?”

Beverly sat back nonplussed and looked up as she wagged her head helplessly. Callum persisted as he turned to Ellie.

“If Miss Beverly is allowed to wear girl’s clothes, can I go and change now?”

It was Ellie’s turn to be perplexed but Molly came to her rescue.

“Let him change girl. It never did Uncle Mortimer any harm and he turned out to be a military hero.”

Ellie shrugged and took Callum up to their room. There she found one of Lucy’s old dresses folded neatly on the bed. Callum had been hoping to dine in the gown but circumstances had prevented him. Now he felt he had some sort of ally in Miss Beverly, the boy had become emboldened. Ellie told him to undress and was not surprised to see he was wearing knickers and a chemise underneath. She sighed resignedly and helped her son into the gown.

As expected, it fitted perfectly and Ellie realised that Callum’s older cousin Lucy had obviously played a part in its choice. When it slithered down his body, Callum shuddered with delight and danced a little jig on the bed. This caused him to lose his balance and he fell into his mother’s arms just as Molly entered.

“The children have been allowed to stay up late; can Callum stay up late?”

Callum’s eyes widened with hope and anticipation.

“Does that mean I can go down in my dress and talk to Miss Beverly again?”

Ellie nodded then cautioned him.

“Yes, but not too many personal questions.”

Molly explained why the children were allowed to stay up.

“We’re organising a quiz, Callum will need a partner; d’you think Miss Beverly will partner him?”

“What you mean ‘The tranz team’?” Ellie smirked, and Molly’s grin widened as Ellie advised her. “You’d best ask Miss Beverly.”

Downstairs the teams were lining up and by a suspicious coincidence Beverly’s team had one last vacancy. Callum had found his favoured place, sitting on Beverly’s lap while one of his adult paternal aunts and another young cousin made up the foursome. Molly was question-mistress and Harry agreed to be referee and scorekeeper.

At the end of the night Beverly’s team won by a mile and the Denton family were suitably impressed. Over the drinking chocolate and biscuits they became curious about Beverly’s background and education. Gentle probing proved of little use and Ellie noticed that Beverly seemed strangely reluctant to reveal her origins. A few simple items were given away but essentially, Beverly skirted skilfully around the questions until Harry the Duke asked bluntly.

“You’re damned good at general knowledge, science and maths Miss Beverly. You’ve beaten both of my daughters, my daughters-in-law, my sons-in-law and my nieces and they’re all Oxbridge; where on earth did you do your education?”

Beverly debated what to say then she finally decided to shock them and put an immediate stop to any more probing.

“I never went to school; or university your grace.”

Once again, the silence was deafening.

“But!” The duke was stuck for words. “What never?”

“Never, but it’s water under the bridge now. I’d rather not go there please.”

“Well I must admit Miss Beverly, truly you are full of surprises I was wondering, -“

Molly interrupted for she recognised Beverly’s desperate strategy and as a good hostess, she was determined to avoid embarrassing their exciting new guest. She stopped the duke’s questions with a well tried family tactic.

“Okay then children, it’s time for bed I’m afraid.”

“And bed time for me too I’m afraid.” Beverly added; taking her cue from Molly’s significant glance before explaining. “I have to be alert when driving the Aston and it’s a long journey even in that beast.”

She made her excuses and thanked Molly for the wonderful evening. As she stood to go, a sleepy Callum refused to be set down and clung to Beverly’s neck obviously hoping to be carried up in her arms. Beverly cast a questioning glance towards Ellie who assented.

“She’ll sleep better if she’s had a little treat. I’ll bring the girls up with Julia.”

A wide smile split Callum’s face as he snuggled gratefully into Beverly’s arms. In the bedroom Beverly set him on the bed and watched Ellie remove his dress before slipping the nightie over Callum’s head. Ellie caught Beverly looking and she felt forced to explain.

“He sleeps better in his nightie. I don’t understand it but that’s the way it is. The girls don’t seem to mind.”

“Nor the rest of the family it seems,” Beverly added, “I’m impressed; and relieved now I know how easy-going they are about it.”

“How long have you been doing it?” Ellie pressed.

Beverly shrugged and stated bluntly.

“Since I was about four; and I don’t want to talk about it anymore. Another day perhaps.”

Ellie raised her eyebrows with a sympathetic, inquisitive expression.

Beverly nodded a slow -‘Yes’- to Ellie’s silent question before adding.

“It wasn’t easy Ellie, that’s all I really want to say.”

Ellie said no more, she realised that Miss Beverly had some issues about something from way back.

The children all bundled onto one wide bed and Beverly was called upon to tell a story. Beverly was bombarded with requests.

“Tell us more about the rescue! Tell us more about the girls you rescued! Can we play with them?”

“Oh I’m afraid not young ladies; Dorset’s quite a way away and the girls are some years older than Lucy.”

After a ripple of disappointment, they settled down as Beverly elaborated briefly on the story.
Soon they were all asleep and the two adults crept downstairs.

After a few minutes socialising, Beverly felt forced to make for bed. She gave her apologies and was soon asleep.

~o000o~

Early Sunday morning found Beverly packing her Aston ready for the journey home. When she was finished a well breakfasted but still sleepy Callum was brought out to join her and he squealed with delight when he learned he was to be a passenger. As they roared off up the drive Ellie watched then turned to finish packing as she prepared to follow on in her own car. She had arranged to collect Callum at Beverly’s cottage when she arrived back in Dorset.

Ellie’s journey proved to be tedious. The rain and occasional dense fog patches made it dangerous to continue on the motorways so Ellie had moved over to the minor roads and picked her way home without the frightful threat of getting involved in a multiple ‘pile-up’. The alternative routes proved slow and tiring so it was close to midnight when she finally arrived exhausted in Dorset. Beverly met her in the yard and immediately invited her in.

“Good gracious girl I’ve been worried, I’m glad you phoned, the fog must have got worse after that.?”

“Yes. Just south of Oxford, I had to stop for a break and wait for conditions to improve. Visibility was hopeless.”

“You must be all in Darling. You’d better stay overnight. I’ve put Callum to bed in one of the guest-rooms. You can sleep in the adjoining room they share a bathroom so you’ll be within earshot. Let’s have a hot chocolate before bed.”

Ellie nodded sleepily, she couldn’t have faced even the short journey to her own cottage. In the morning the unexpected clatter of horses’ hooves on concrete and the chatter of children preparing to ride tore Ellie from her bed. She found Callum already downstairs digging into a bowl of cereal and fruit-juice.

“Can I go on one of the horses Mummy?”

Reluctantly Ellie had to refuse. Beverly had already indulged Ellie by allowing her to run Callum home before resuming work in the Shipping office. Nana Charlotte would look after him for the afternoon. Callum sulked until Beverly offered him a stay during the next half term if his mother was agreeable. By the time she had ferried Callum home, it was noon when Ellie got to work. Beverly was busy with a potential new customer for the Hull to Hamburg, Tangier and Poole service. He had just arrived that morning and Beverly introduced him to Ellie just as she was sitting down to her desk.

“Hello Ellie, hope Callum’s okay about not riding, perhaps the weekend sometime. Anyway, may I introduce Herr Hans Schmitt? He’s from Bavaria but works in Hamburg.”

Beverly’s knees went weak at the sight of him as she took his proffered hand. Beverly smiled knowingly behind his back as she recognised Ellie’s reaction. Having sorted much of the logistical issues earlier she made a suggestion.

“I suggest the three of us go for lunch in the yacht club to discuss freight projections before we visit the ship. She’s alongside having modifications.”

Ellie nodded and swallowed as she composed herself. The client was just too dishy for words.
The lunch went well- for both Ellie and Beverly. The cargo deal was struck which gave promise of much earlier and possibly immediate profitability for the new trade and that pleased Beverly. On the other front, Ellie managed to procure a date with the dishy Bavarian hunk.
The visit to the ship proved useful. The Bavarian was glad to see real steps being taken as he studied the stern-ramp being upgraded and enlarged as Beverly explained.

“She was lengthened a year ago but she then proved to be too cumbersome for the trade she was on. The port reneged on a verbal agreement to enlarge the turning circle in the river because some local politicians and environmentalists made a fuss. Consequently the ship proved too long to turn around. It goes to show you can never trust a bunch of suits to keep their word; the owners should have got it in writing. I can’t understand how her previous owners got it so wrong but their mistake is my good luck. She was an ideal size for my ambitions and consequently she’s here. What d’you think of her?”

The Bavarian client was studying the ramp enlargement alterations and nodding as he spoke.

“That wider, longer, ramp should easily handle the new super-trucks if they become legal.”

“I was thinking more of dual handling, you know, roll-on - roll-off simultaneously. It makes for faster turnarounds’.”

“Makes sense, port fees can be expensive, how do you cope with them?”

Beverly smiled as she used his name for the first time.

“That’s simple Hans, I have bought shares in the wharfage company so I have some pull here in Poole and any profits the wharfage company accrues, partly goes to me. That helps balance my whole account because I own my shipping operation lock, stock and barrel. I’ve also got myself recently elected to the harbour trust and that means I keep my finger on the pulse where I have a vote in harbour plans and maintenance.”

They talked at length with Ellie taking the occasional notes until various avenues and issues were resolved and the business was over. Ellie went home happily clutching her purse with Hans’s telephone number. It was getting late when she arrived at the cottage and entered to see her Nan dozing in her recliner chair.

“How did it go darling,” Nana Charlotte asked from her favourite armchair as Ellie made some tea before stepping into the large communal sitting room that she, her father and Nana shared.

Ellie’s face spread into a broad smile as she bent down to kiss her elderly Nana

“I’ve just seen an expert reel in a large fish. That Miss Beverly is just brilliant at business. She has all the essential info at her finger-tips!”

“Hard-headed business-woman is she? Pushy and brash?”

Ellie snapped back.

“No, no she’s not, she’s actually quite lovely. Haven’t you noticed how she allows me time off to see to Callum? She’s a fabulous boss. Yes, she’s sharp and intuitive when it comes to business but she’s not pushy or abrasive – far from it. I’ve just seen her in action and it’s a wonder to behold. Despite her being close to retirement age, she soldiers on like a real trooper but when it comes to mother stuff she’s right up there! No she’s not pushy or brash. By the way, where is Callum?”

“Out the back with your dad. You’ve started something there, apparently he wants a horse.”

Ellie rolled her eyes.

“Where would we keep a horse?”

“Don’t ask me darling. I’m only his great grandmother and getting on in years, too old to be riding horses.”

Ellie gave the old lady a hug.

“Oh Tosh Nana! You’ll live to be a hundred. You’re ninety eight now and still moving around pretty well.”

The old lady shrugged and pushed the button at the side of the chair to lift her up as she made towards the kitchen.

“Well we’d better move now if dinner’s to be had. Can you peel the veg?”

Ellie nodded and glanced at the planned menu before selecting the makings from the vegetable rack and peeling them. Nana Charlotte took some stewing beef from the fridge and diced it into chunks. By the time Callum and ‘Bampi Bill’ returned from the back, the stew was boiling nicely and Ellie was cutting thick slices of bread and buttering them as Nana Charlotte carved the cheese into tasty chunks.
A little inquisitive nose appeared at his Great-grandmother’s side as she was arranging the chunks on a plate. She offered him some cheese and smiled as he eagerly consumed it. Grand-pa Bill chuckled.

“He’s got the family liking for cheese then. That’ll make cooking easier.”

Callum helped Ellie lay the table while Nana Charlotte watched the news and Grand-pa bill resumed his crossword. Occasionally, he called out one of the clues to Ellie as she prepared the desert of tinned fruit and cream.

After Dinner Callum went up to his bedroom while the adults chatted. After half an hour, he re-appeared dressed in the frock that Duchess Molly had given him on leaving Denton hall. As he entered, Ellie looked up and tensed slightly. Neither her father nor grandmother knew about Callum’s recent penchant for cross-dressing. Her reaction did not go entirely un-noticed and Nana Charlotte turned to see Callum as he crossed the room to sit with his mother. She gasped in shock before scolding him as her voice almost reached a shriek.
Ellie span around in shock at the sheer anger in her Nana’s voice.

“Good heaven’s boy, what on earth are you wearing? That’s wicked! Take it off immediately.”

Ellie glared at her grandmother and sprang to Callum’s defence as tears started to appear in his eyes.

“Don’t you shout at him like that! He’s not doing any harm.”

Nana Charlotte bristled angrily.

“What he’s doing is wrong and it will get him into trouble. Tell her Bill.”

“Oh leave the boy alone mother! Remember what happened last time!”

Nana Charlotte gasped with dismay.

“It’s just wrong Bill. It was wrong then and it’s still wrong now.”

Ellie stared in puzzled silence then felt forced to ask as she turned to her Nana.

“What d’you mean, ‘wrong then’ and ‘wrong now’?”

Nana Charlotte stared at her grand-daughter as confused uncertainty glittered in her eyes, she hadn’t realised that
William had never spoken to Ellie about the family skeletons. Hastily she tried to make a smokescreen.

“It doesn’t matter now; water under the bridge.”

Ellie’s father interrupted. He couldn’t let it go.

“For you mother perhaps but not for me.”

Nana Charlotte glared.

“I had to do it. Think of the trouble, think of the shame!”

Bill cursed.

“Oh damn you mother! Times have changed. Leave the child alone; anyway I come between him and you. You’ll not have your way!”

Ellie stood baffled as she watched her ‘olds’ arguing then finally she found her voice.
“I’m asking again; what d’you mean by ‘wrong then and wrong now’? What’s wrong?”
Her father turned almost wearily.

“It doesn’t matter darling, as your Nan said, it’s water under the bridge.”

“What? What d’you mean? ‘Water under the bridge’? What!”

“Not now Ellie. Now’s neither the time nor the place.”

“Dammit dad! Don’t leave me hanging like that! What’s going on? What is this ‘water under the bridge’? And I’m responsible for my child, not you – or Nana!”

“I said not now Ellie! Some other time!”

“Dad Stoppit! Nana! The time is NOW! What’s the connection between now and then? Come on I’m in my mid twenties, I’m a mother for God’s sake. This has obviously something to do with Callum and the dress! What is this bloody ‘water under the bridge’ business?”
Nana Charlotte frowned guiltily.

“There’s no need to swear Ellie. There’s a child present.”

“Yes! And he’s my child so let me handle the dressing stuff! There’s nothing wrong with him wanting a dress. This the twenty first century not the nineteenth or even the twentieth. So it’s not ‘wrong’ as you put it!”

“All right if you say so. I’ll say nothing more; least said soonest mended.”

“No you can’t just leave it there. I’ll ask one more time, you said it was wrong then and wrong now. Explain! When was ‘then’ as you call it?”

Her father reached out and turned her into his arms as he hugged her.

“Not now Ellie, I think it’s best you and I talk with your aunts. This is family business from way, way back.”

Ellie shook her head.

“That’s not an answer dad! I’m family am I not? I want an answer. What’s such a big bloody secret and how come I’m only hearing of it now?”

Her father shook his head almost defeatedly.

“I’ll call your aunts; I’ll try to get them together on Saturday. Can you wait until Saturday?”

Ellie’s patience was just about to snap but she held herself together.

“Provided that woman – that mother of yours – doesn’t say anything to Callum.”

She turned angrily on her grand-mother.

“Nothing d ’you hear? No sneaky asides, no subtle remarks or Chinese whispers – nothing!”

Nana Charlotte tried to defend her stance but Ellie cut her dead.

“I still don’t think –“

Ellie bristled.

“I said nothing. Leave him alone. If you’ve anything more to add, you can say it on Saturday in front of the ugly sisters.”

“That’s no way to speak of your Aunties.”

“Well they are. We hardly see them anyway. Is this anything to do with their reluctance to come and see us very often?”

“No. It’s nothing like that. Your father’s right, we’ll speak of it on Saturday. Now let’s get on with dinner.”

The meal was eaten in relative silence but Ellie couldn’t fail to notice the angry glances that Nana Charlotte was casting towards Callum. As soon as the meal was over Ellie sent him to their part of the cottage while she cleared away the dishes and washed up. She heard her father
arguing briefly with her grandmother but she decided to keep out of it and retired to her ‘apartment’ to avoid further argument. Later that evening as she was going to bed her father came to her door. She had been anticipating his visit for she and he had an intensely close relationship.

“Come in,” she replied softly to his knock.

“I’ve spoken to my sisters, they’re coming over on Friday night instead of Saturday, we want to try and resolve the issues without biting too deeply into the weekend.”

“What’s it all about Dad?” Ellie asked, as she struggled keep calm. “What big secret is so vital as to have been kept from me all these years? I thought we had no secrets between us.”

“This is not just between you and me Ellie; this is a whole family matter between your Nan, your aunts, and me – and you and your cousins. Neither you nor your cousins know about it. But I’ll ask you for now, please be patient, and wait until my sisters arrive with their children.”
He reached out to invite her for a hug but Ellie was too distraught to respond. It was going to be hell’s own delight waiting for Friday but she had little choice but to do so. Arrangements with her aunts had been made over the phone and her father had obviously spent a lot of time and energy making them. Instead she resumed making her hot chocolate and intimated that she was angry so she was going to bed. Her father left in silence.

~o000o~

Chapter 7.

For the rest of week the news that she might have had another uncle kept Ellie distracted with ‘what-ifs and maybe’s’. She was so distracted; she struggled to hold it together at work. Several times she made simple mistakes with her analysis and figures. By Thursday Beverly had had to correct the errors and because they were so simple she realised that Ellie was seriously upset or distracted by something; she felt forced to speak to her ‘girl Friday’.

“Are you okay Ellie? You seem to have been addlebrained all week?”

“I’m okay boss. There’s been a bit of bother at home, family business; by that I mean family secrets, skeletons in cupboards and all that.
Hopefully it’ll be sorted tomorrow night. My dad’s organised a family get-together.”

“Well I hope it does get sorted. These figures you prepared need re-doing all over again. One of the girls picked up some mistakes and brought them to me. When I checked them I found several more serious ones. It’s not like you to make such basic arithmetical errors.”

Ellie ran her eye over the figures and frowned an apology.

“I’m sorry. I’ll redo them tonight.”

“No, it’s not necessary. I suspected something was wrong so I've gone over the figures myself. You’re usually so reliable and accurate – and quick. One of the girls has double checked my figures and corrected the remaining errors. We both think they’re okay now. You just get your personal business sorted and hopefully it’ll be okay by next week.”

"I'll check them all again by the end of the week," Ellie asserted herself, "after all that's my job."

Friday arrived and Ellie made doubly sure of her figures. The extra work caused her to be late finishing work. By the day’s end she was glad to be closing her office and heading home. When she arrived home, she found two unrecognised cars parked thoughtlessly on the cottage forecourt. At first Ellie thought they might belong to the family lawyers then she realised they were probably her aunties’ cars. Her aunties did not get on with their mother and they visited so rarely that they had possibly changed cars since their last visit. Ellie was philosophical about this but curious to know what the big secret was.

As she locked her car she began to realise that the ‘skeleton-in-the-cupboard’ that had dragged her aunts out of their self imposed separation must be more important then she first realised. Obviously it was important or serious enough to propel her aunts halfway across England to address the issues.

Having little idea of what this bii-ig secret was, Ellie had not mustered much interest in the forthcoming discussion. Originally she had felt it was something to do with her grandfather’s will that apparently hadn’t yet been sorted out after donkey’s years of contention. She certainly wasn’t expecting it to involve her. Indeed, Ellie was more interested in meeting her older cousins if they had accompanied their respective mothers. She had only ever seen them but a few times in all her life. The last time was when Ellie had been ‘wheeled out’ as the family success story because she had graduated to Cambridge. The aunties hadn’t even come to Ellie’s wedding. Henry her dead husband had never actually met them and now never would. Ellie frowned thoughtfully as she opened up the door around the back because all the available parking space on the forecourt was taken.

‘Such a large family and I hardly know any of them,’ she reflected and sighed as she opened the back door. She promptly stopped at the threshold. There was a row going on as women’s voices were being raised in the communal living room. Ellie paused in the back kitchen and listened as she recognised her aunt Sandra’s voice arguing the toss.

“You should never have done it! It was evil and Dad was just as bad though he regretted it later and he recanted when the kid finally disappeared. But too bloody late! The boy was gone forever! No trace! Nothing! He could be anywhere on the planet by now!”

“He’s most probably dead!” Auntie Rose added.

Aunty Sandra continued.

“So how does Dad punish you and us when he died? He deliberately includes the boy in the will with that monstrous codicil. The estate was to remain undivided for twenty five years after his death unless the boy turned up. Well mother! I hope you die and never see your share!”

Nana Charlotte shrieked back in anger.

“Your father should have told me at the time he didn’t want to do it! He was weak; he left me to sort the whole mess out! I had to do the dirty work!”

Auntie Rosie’s softer voice responded to her mother’s defence.

“And dirty work it was. How could I have known you’d have acted so brutally? Yes; I was furious with him about my stockings, as any young woman would be; but I only wanted him to stop stealing my cloths! Not have him put away! You could at least have gone to visit him. Is it any wonder the kid never came back?

“Your father and I were coming around to that. We were going to wait until the boy’s sixteenth birthday but he disappeared, escaped from the home.”

Auntie Sandra snarled back.

“Home! You called that place a home. It was a bloody prison mum!! I checked it out a few years ago! I didn’t even know what a Borstal was until I checked it out! The trouble is the records are gone, destroyed; and now we all know why. It was in the papers for months. It wasn’t a home; as you so genteelly put it! It was a bloody borstal mother, a boy’s prison! He was twelve when he was removed from the psychiatric unit and they put him in a bloody borstal! - No, worse than that, a bloody paedophile hell!”

Ellie listened mesmerised as she tried to make sense of their shouting. She was so transfixed that she failed to hear her father enter from the dining room. He crept up behind her and spoke softly.

“People who listen at keyholes usually hear ill of themselves.”

Ellie jerked up with surprise and hit her head on the sideboard.

“Ow!” She cursed. “Dammit dad! Don’t sneak up like that! What’s this boy they’re talking about?”

“Probably my younger brother, he’d be your uncle if he was alive – which I doubt!”

“My uncle? So it’s true then, I did have an uncle”

Her dad paused as he collected his thoughts.”

“Yes_ and you might still have one; if he’s still alive. Though it’s very doubtful.”

“Are you serious? Are you saying I had an uncle? Is this the person they’re arguing about in there?”

“Yes, now we’d best join them. The girls have been shouting since they got here and that’s a good thirty minutes ago.”

“I’m not sure I want to. It sounds pretty frenetic.”

“They’ve finally lanced the boil, I think. They’re having the same argument with your Nana that I had with your grand-dad just before he died. Now they seem to be just going over old ground again.”

“What’s that?”

“Mum and dad shouldn’t have had the boy put away.”

“Put away? D’ you mean like mental patients?”

“Precisely. He was my brother but I never got to grow up with him.”

“Are you seriously saying you had a brother? This isn’t some sort of lie is it?”

Her father got a little angry at the implied questioning of his integrity.

“No dammit Ellie! I am not lying! I once had a brother and that’s exactly what I’m saying. Now let’s join them. I hasten to add, I’m the innocent party in this. My brother was six when he disappeared. I was eight and they never explained it to me.”

“Oh that’s obscene!” Ellie protested loudly just as her father opened the door to the living room.

The arguing ceased as if by magic as both her aunts and her Nana turned towards Ellie. She stared hard at the three women then exercised her adult right to question them in her own home. And it was Ellie’s home for she still held title to half the deeds while her father and Nana only held a quarter each. As she collected her thoughts, Ellie picked up on the last words she had heard before her father had caught her listening at the keyhole.

“So what should Nana not have done?” She asked her aunties.

Sandie and Rosie stared sullenly at their mother while Nana Charlotte span around angrily.

“Have you been listening?”

“It was hard not to.” Ellie replied calmly. “I heard the shouting even as I drove past that open kitchen window. It was so loud you never even heard my car scrunching on the gravel. Yes I heard the last few remarks; so I ask again. What is it you should not have done and is it true there was another child in this family?”

After a guilty silence Nana Charlotte answered the question.

“Yes.”

Ellie nodded slowly as she made a show of digesting the shocking fact.

“And is it true he was ‘Put away’, as dad just described it to me?”

“If you knew that, why are you asking? Are you just trying to embarrass me?”

“No.” Ellie replied firmly but softly. “I’m just trying to confirm what Dad just told me. Is it true? Do I have an uncle out there?”

“I doubt it,” Rosie replied, “he’s in all probability long dead.”

“But you have no proof?” Ellie pressed.

“No.” Sandie confirmed. “But kids coming out of care don’t usually thrive; they don't thrive even today and they certainly didn't back then Plus he was a queer.”

Ellie nodded as she digested the facts then referred to her grandfather’s will.

“Dad says granddad wrote a will, with something about a twenty five year codicil. What’s all that about?”

“It’s true,” Nana Charlotte admitted, “their father put a clause in the will concerning the boy saying that every endeavour to find him must be continued for twenty five years before the estate can be divided. In the meantime I could live in the family home until the twenty five years was up. It was hell’s own job getting the courts to allow me to sell the original home because I was too frail to keep running it. The estate has been a millstone around my neck since he died.”

“And ours!” Sandi added angrily.

Ellie frowned.

“As I recall, the law says it's only after seven years if somebody does not turn up to claim what is theirs. After that she or he is deemed to be legally dead. Now you’re telling me about this thing in grand-dad’s will. So why did he write it if this supposed uncle is legally dead anyway, at least for property and inheritance things.”

“He’s not legally dead if the will specifically requires other factors and conditions to be fulfilled,” her dad added, “your grand-dad specifically stated twenty five years! I think that illustrated the extent of his anger.”

“Have you ever looked for him?” Ellie asked nobody in particular.

“Of course we have,” Rosie confirmed, “we’ve never stopped looking! Sandie and I could do with the monies.”

Both sisters glared at Nana Charlotte as Rosie continued.

“It’s our inheritance and that bitch has caused it to be denied us for twenty years. She’s fine you see, living here in this fine cottage all nicely provided by you and the courts. As is your dad, - but not us, oh no! We’ve had to scrimp and struggle to get by.”

“Ellie turned to her Nana.”

“So it’s definitely true then, I did have an uncle.”

Nana Charlotte nodded but remained silent. There was little she could add that would not cause more contention but Ellie pressed on.

“So what happened? Why was he ‘put away’? I want to hear it from your mouths.”

“What right have you got to demand that?” Nana Charlotte protested.

Ellie snapped back angrily.

“The same right as the rest of my cousins or do they still not know either?”

“You’ll have to ask your aunts that.”

With raised eyebrows Ellie turned questioningly to Rosie and Sandie. They wagged their heads to confirm that they also had also kept their own children ignorant. Ellie turned to Nana Charlotte again.

“So it seems that I don't have the right to know if my cousins don't; it's that or you don’t want to tell me; why? You said he was 'queer' so would I be right in thinking it might be something similar to Callum?”

Her grandmother sat upright with alarm then almost spat the answer.

“Yes Dammit! It must run in the family - bloody perversions! It's probably from your grandfather's side!”

Ellie didn't get angry, indeed she felt the sweet taste of victory for Nana Charlotte had just destroyed her own ‘Nurture over nature’ arguments.

“So you’re saying that my Callum was born the same as this missing uncle. What was his name? I’m presuming he did have a name then.”

Both aunts and her father angrily chorused ‘Bernard’! And Nana Charlotte reluctantly nodded affirmation - as though giving the missing child a name somehow gave him rights and dignity. Ellie sighed silently and wagged her head as she surmised her own son Callum had been lucky. He had two generations between himself and a great-grandmother who might have committed ‘god-knows-what’ to have the child ‘cured’. She turned to Nana Charlotte.

“So if it runs in the family then, you have to agree Callum was born this way and he can’t be changed. It’s genetic.”

“People can change.” Nana Charlotte replied in one last feeble defence of her own faltering beliefs.

“Why should he change?” Ellie pressed home her advantage. “Who should he have to change for?”

“But it’s so shameful!” Charlotte tried to maintain her belief but in the face of Ellie’s more modern outlook he arguments were being quickly nullified.

“You may think so.” Ellie riposted.” “My generation certainly doesn’t think so. You saw Jackie at Henry’s funeral. She lives full time as a female and she’s married to Gwendolyn. They’ve got children for God’s sake! Where’s the shame!?”

“The Bible says – “

“Stuff the Bible. It's a load of cod's-wallop written four thousand years ago!!!” Ellie replied angrily. "Anyway; when did you last go to bloody church?"

“That’s blasphemy!” Nana Charlotte almost screeched.

“That’s science Nana! Now what about this uncle I never had or met. Have any of you any idea where he might be?”

“Your aunties are probably right,” Ellie’s dad replied, “they’ve been searching for years and they’ve found nothing. He disappeared without trace when he was fourteen, so he’s most probably dead. Transgender people didn’t usually thrive all those years ago. He probably ended up as the victim of some sex crime or God knows what.”

“Have you tried finding him?”

“I tried when your grand-dad was around but we had no luck.” Her father explained. “I know Rosie and Sandie have searched for years. The records from the hospital only told of his being put in a children’s home and –“

“Borstal! Tell the truth Bill! It was a bloody borstal not a home!” Auntie Sandra interjected.

“Alright then, a bloody Borstal!” William conceded. “Whatever it was, he absconded and that was the last he was ever heard of. I’m sorry Ellie, it’s pretty certain we’ll never find him so we’ll simply have to wait until the clause in the will comes to its conclusion. It’s only a few more years to go.”

“Huh. Well I’ll probably be dead by then so I won’t see any benefits.” Nana Charlotte complained.

Ellie’s father rounded on his mother and spoke with soft venom that Ellie had never seen before.

“D’you think you deserve any mummy? I don’t think Dad ever forgave you.”

“There was nothing to stop him going to see the boy.” Nana Charlotte snapped back.

“Except you and your hyper-religious family, he didn’t want to hurt you but it always wounded him. Besides, what would it have looked like to the boy if his father had turned up without his mother?”

Ellie stood in numbed silence as her father argued with her grandmother. She had never dreamed that such a big family secret had lain like a stick of unlit dynamite between her olds. Now the fuse was lit and she was fearful of the consequences. It was obvious that her father and aunts were still carrying the scars from that partition of the fourth child. It had shocked Ellie to learn of it and it cast Nana Charlotte in a wholly new light.”

‘How could Nana have been so cruel and uncaring? How did she still live with what she had done; what damage she had done to the other children; the rift it now caused and would that rift be healed?’ She wondered.

Ellie went into the kitchen to make some tea and escape the vitriol while the argument resumed in the living room. The shouting soon became intolerably loud to Ellie’s ears and she became angry with her olds; so much so that she burst in upon them.

“For fuck’s sake Stoppit, Stoppit! Stoppit!! Can you not hear yourselves?”

Nana Charlotte span around with stunned disbelief that her favourite grand-daughter had sworn so vehemently.

“Ellie, don’t use such foul language!”

“Don’t you tell me what language to use in my home. Think instead of what you have done. This row for instance! It’s your doing. What is it, fifty - sixty years ago? And still the scars bleed. I’m not asking you, all of you that is; to stop this shouting; - I’m telling you! Stoppit!”

The four adults fell silent then finally her father spoke.

“You’re right girl. This must come as a shock to you. Come on, let’s drink the tea and call it a day. Arguing and shouting is never going to solve the problem. Bernard is gone and gone forever. We have to accept that.”

Nana Charlotte pursed her lips irritably but said no more; Sandie and Rosie nodded their heads reluctantly. It was obvious that they still lived in hope of finding their brother and resolving the issues of their father’s will. As they sipped their tea, the strained silence gave them time to reflect that the cruel truth was, they would very likely never find their brother and they would have to wait for several years more before the will was settled. Ellie let out a deep sigh as she stood to leave and put Callum to bed.

~~000~~

Chapter 8

Callum was playing on his computer when she entered their apartment. He turned nervously as he heard the door knob turn.

“Where they shouting Mummy?”

Ellie nodded.

“Yes darling.”

“What about?

“I learned something shocking tonight darling.”

“Is it bad mummy?”

“Well it doesn’t affect you or me but it’s surprised me. Your granddad had a brother, I had an uncle, and you had a great uncle. He was also a brother to Aunties Rosie and Sandie.”

“You mean Nana Charlotte had another son?”

“Yes darling, that’s very clever of you to work it out. Where did you learn about relatives and stuff?”

“Grand ma Molly explained about it. Is it like Auntie Rosie and Sandie? Does he never come to see us?”

Ellie was stuck for an answer so she kept it as simple as she could.

“Well yes darling, sort of. Something happened an awful long time ago even before I was born and that’s what they were arguing about. His name was Uncle Bernard but he will never come to see us. Nobody knows where he lives and Grandpa Bill thinks he might even be dead.”
Callum fell silent as Ellie prepared his night-cap and he asked no more about it that night.

As with every other night, Callum now dressed in his nightie and knickers before skipping upstairs to bed. Ellie followed him up thoughtfully as she considered what she had learned that day.

The following morning Ellie deliberately gave Callum free rein to dress as he pleased in pink leggings and a longish, floral top. That coupled with ruffle socks and sandals ensured he was indistinguishable from a cis-gendered girl. He was dressed thus while eating breakfast when his great aunts appeared at the table. After some surprised looks, the aunts accepted Ellie’s invitation to accompany Ellie to the shops.
Nana Charlotte refused to accompany them. She still disapproved of Callum’s attire but Ellie was determined not to let her grandmother intimidate her son or censure him. She ushered her aunties into the car and sped off before Nana Charlotte had finished breakfast. In the car she explained to Rosie and Sandie.

“Callum prefers to dress as a girl so I let him. We buy his girl clothes together and that’s what we had planned today. You see, I’m not a complete stranger to transvestism or trans-sexualism; because Henry and I had friends at Cambridge who did the same thing as Callum and they were some of the best friends we could have hoped for. What’s more, not all of them were gay. I still see Jackie today. She was Henry’s best friend and sculling team-mate. As a pair they won a blue. His male name was James but he came to Henry’s funeral as Jackie. I thought she was very brave and I loved her for that. Nana Charlotte met Jackie and never even twigged that she was also James. I find transgender people to be some of the most sincere and honest people on earth. You don’t have to lie to anybody if you are cross-dressed and obviously transgendered. What’s that saying in Shakespeare? – Be true to yourself and you don’t have to lie to anybody else.”

Rosie nodded and grinned softly.

“He put it a bit fancier than that Ellie but yes, you’ve got the jist of it.”

Ellie smiled.

“Yeah; well I didn’t do English at Uni', I did Maths and Physics.”

Both aunties smiled then touched on a more sombre note; Auntie Sandie spoke softly, almost apologetically as she replied.

“I hope you realise, we both bitterly regretted over-reacting to Bernard’s cross dressing when he was small. Neither of us remotely thought that Mum would respond the way she did. We thought he would just get a thrashing and that would be the end of it. She should never have done what she did. Both Rosie and I have felt guilty about it all our lives.”

“Yes,” Rosie agreed. “We lost a brother and a sibling thanks to mum’s intransigence. She still hasn’t recanted.”

“She’s a bitch!” Sandie cursed.

“Aye,” Rosie added, “that’s why we don’t come down too often. I mean every time we come together to see mum, we are reminded of it. It’ll be a change coming to see her and having something nice to do. It’s going to be a delight shopping with Callum here.”

“It’s Callista Auntie Rose,” Callum interrupted, “my girl name is Callista; after the Greek goddess.”

Callum’s great aunts grinned and accepted the child’s censure. Rosie answered for both of them.

“And a very nice name too young lady. So what are you looking for today?”

“Tops, leggings and new trainers. Ready for the summer holidays. I’m spending the whole six weeks up in Yorkshire.”

The aunts exchanged amused smiles as Callista explained further.

“My other Grand-pa Harry says when he dies, I’m going to be the Duke of Denton so I’ve got to learn about the job and learn all about the estate. It’s huge Auntie Sandie, much bigger than your farm; so he’s going to show me all around it and tell me everything.”

After chatting at length they arrived in town and Callista beamed happily.

“Ah, here we are, Primani, my favourite shop. Come on Mummy, or those lovely blue leggings I saw last Friday will all be gone.”

Ellie grinned towards her aunts as she parked the car and the four of them stepped eagerly into the mall. Callista skipped excitedly ahead and arrived at the display of leggings and jeggings before the adults had even entered the store. She had already selected a blue pair in the correct size and was thoughtfully comparing some plum leggings with some other black pairs. The Aunt’s turned again and smiled at Ellie. Rosie remarked as she and her sister watched intrigued.

“She’s obviously a hardened shopper already. That’s definitely a girl you’ve got there Ellie, no boy would be comparing prices, colours and sizes like that.”

Ellie sucked her cheeks thoughtfully before replying.

“Tell that to Nana Charlotte. She wants to chaperone Callista up to Yorkshire but I can’t see it happening; especially if she tries to suppress Callista’s femininity.

The aunts looked askance at each other then a puzzled Sandie asked Ellie.

“You allow him to do it when he likes?”

“Yes, though he doesn’t do it in school, well not yet anyway.”

“Is he allowed to express his femininity up there in Yorkshire then?”

Ellie suddenly realised they didn’t know about the Dentons but the cat was out of the bag now. She shrugged somewhat philosophically.

“Yes.”

“You mean he’s allowed to cross-dress up there amongst the nobility and all that?” Rosie pressed.

“Yes.” Debbie confirmed flatly. “He or she’s an earl in her own right, son of a duke and all that.”

“Shouldn’t that be a countess then?” Sandie grinned.

“Don’t they mind; I mean his grandfather’s the duke.” Rosie pressed. “Callum’s going to be duke one day isn’t he? How will that be possible if he has a sex change?”

“To your first question, no, they don’t mind,” Ellie replied, “and to your second question, yes, he’ll be Duke of Denton one day; sooner rather than later. The old duke is quite a sick man, well; he’s in remission from prostate cancer.

“Is he actually allowed to stay on the estate dressed as a girl?” Rosie struggled to accept this.

“Yes!” Ellie sighed. “They have no issues and I’ll explain why.”

Both Sandie and Rosie’s eyes widened with somewhat salacious expectation.

“Oh do tell!”

Ellie sighed and wagged her head.

“Sorry to tell you girls but it’s not some awful secret about the nobility. In fact the story is well known up in those parts.”

“Well go on then, don’t keep us in suspense.” Rosie urged.

Ellie shrugged and explained.

“Well, the ninth duke’s younger brother Mortimer was also a transvestite or cross-dresser as you call them, but he turned out to be a war hero both at El Al’amain and during the Normandy landings. He won the George cross in North Africa and the Military cross during the assault on Caen. The man’s a legend up in Yorkshire and many of his old regiment swore that he was refused the Victoria Cross because he was a somewhat effeminate character and Monty may have been a bigoted old curmudgeon.

Uncle Mortimer may have appeared to be a sissy to Monty but he saved his whole platoon and another from certain death by stopping a German counter attack for a whole day with only his sergeant beside him. Mortimer almost died from the wounds to his chest and shoulder and the sergeant had to physically drag him to safety after the company finally managed reorganise then advance again and recover the salient the pair had held. When they found them, the pair were down to the last round of their field gun. Monty had nearly bled to death and the sergeant had wounds in his arm.

The old duke assured me Mortimer was loved by his men and a personal letter from Mortimer’s divisional commander to the eighth duke tells of his feelings that Mortimer was only denied the VC because Monty was such a homophobe. The irony was that Mortimer wasn’t homosexual, he was an effeminate transvestite. He left a widow and two daughters but his effeminate manners convinced Monty he was a ‘bloody queer’.

Anyway, right up until his death only a dozen years ago, Mortimer continued to dress, especially when he went home to the country pile to visit his older brother the duke. Mortimer’s reputation saved it for Callum. The Dentons have absolutely no problems with Callum living as Callista.”

Both aunts nodded remorsefully.

“Pity Nana Charlotte couldn’t have been like that with Bernard.” Sandie finished.

“Aye, well it’s water over the dam now.” Rosie added. “I’m damned sure we’ll never find out what happened to him. That fire that destroyed the borstal records was pretty suspicious business.”

Callista had returned with her chosen leggings and she had been digesting what she had heard about her mysterious great uncle Bernard. As Ellie checked that Callista's choice of leggings didn't have any flaws, she noticed Callista’s thoughtful silence.

“What’s bothering you darling?”

Callista turned with the slightest glint of a tear in her eyes and her voice cracked as she croaked nervously.

“Was Uncle Bernard like me and was he sent away because he liked girl’s clothes as well?”

“Yes,” Aunt Rosie replied thoughtlessly.

Ellie bristled as she snapped at her aunt.

“You stupid woman, can’t you see that Callie thinks the same is going to happen to her!”

Ellie reached out desperately and pulled her child tight to reassure her.

“You are NOT going to be sent away darling. I would rather send Nana Charlotte away.”

Rosie and Sandie realised their blunder and quickly moved to repair the damage.

“Yes darling. We would also send Nana Charlotte away before she harmed you. What she did to our brother was unforgiveable. He was only six. We would love to have him back but sadly we’ll probably never know what became of him.”

“Is he dead?” Callista asked bluntly.

“We don’t know darling,” Ellie replied as both aunts reaffirmed their uncertainty. “Now let’s go and pay for those leggings.”

“I’ve got to choose some tops as well.” Callista reminded them.

To make up for their blunder, the aunts offered to pay for Callista’s tops and indulged her accordingly. They resumed rummaging through the clothes until the young girl found what she liked. After paying they went for coffee.
Calli sat silent as she idly stirred her coffee and chewed slowly on her cake. It was obvious to all the adults that the child was still not convinced. Bad connections were being made in her head. Her next question confirmed this as she looked up nervously.

“I’m seven next birthday.”

Ellie rolled her eyes as she realised what Callum was thinking. The child turned to her.

“Mummy, can you and I go and live with Grandpa Harry and Grandma Molly?”

“Why darling?” Ellie asked but fearing the child’s answer.

“Nana Charlotte might want to send me away to die but Grandma Molly would let Callista live.”

Ellie filled up with unreleased tears. It was obvious that her child was still terrified with doubts. She reached out and pulled Callista tight to her breast as she repeated.

“Now listen for the last time darling; you are NOT going to be sent anywhere! Nana Charlotte has no control over you; I am your mummy and I am keeping you forever. You are NOT going to be sent away to die!!”

Callista squirmed tight into her mother’s embrace and muffled her tears in Ellie’s breast as Ellie glared at her aunts.

“Have you no tact. Look what you’ve done. She’s terrified.”

The aunts finally realised the extent of their blunder and shamefacedly made their excuses. Ellie motioned her head angrily directing them to go to the car as she repaired the damage with hugs and kisses. Despite the previous assurances, Callum asked again as nerves choked his throat.

“Can we mummy? Can we live in the big house? If I live here, Nana Charlotte might send me away to die.”

“Would you really want to live up there all the time darling? I’m not sure that we can. I can’t leave Beverly in the lurch at work. She relies on me for her figures. Besides, I need my wages, I have to work.”

Calli looked disappointed and Ellie reaffirmed her promise.

“I am not sending you away but you can certainly go to stay with Grandma Molly and Grandpa Harry all over the school holidays if you wish.

Nana Charlotte will not be coming either.”

At this news, Callista was eventually convinced. She cheered up appreciably and eventually they returned to the car after Callista had dried her tears. Once they returned to the cottage, Ellie returned to her grandmother’s apartment and laid down the law as far as her child was concerned.

“You will NOT censure him or her when she chooses to wear girl’s cloths and you will NOT criticise him/her for it. If you do, I will be sending Callum to live with his paternal grandparents and you won’t ever see him again. Just let me re-iterate – as far as I am concerned and as far as my child is concerned, transgenderism or transvestism is NOT a crime nor is it some sort of stupid religious blasphemy or curse or whatever.”

Nana Charlotte said nothing. She knew exactly now where the boundaries lay. Ellie’s father also nodded slowly as he took on board the new situation. The legal and social situations regarding gender and sexuality issues had shifted tectonically since he was a little boy. In today’s climate his younger brother Bernard would never have been ‘disposed of’.

With the air cleared and the matter finished as far as Ellie was concerned, she returned to her own ‘apartment’ and put Callista to bed after reassuring once more that she was NOT going to be sent away. After settling her precious child she joined the other adults as the aunts prepared to return home. Finally she curled up on her own settee in her own apartment to watch a programme she had recorded about transgenderism. A couple of times she paused it to check on her child like some anxious animal checking its cubs, making sure her offspring was safe. The day had left her exhausted but relieved.

For the rest of the week she took Callista to school early and collected her from ‘after-school-club’ at the latest possible time. Sometimes even Beverly collected Callista and gave her a ride in the Aston Martin simply to keep her away from the house and its oppressive atmosphere. The appearance of an Aston Martin at the school gates gave Callista extra kudos with her school friends. When Callista mentioned Ellie’s promise to take her to ride the horses at Miss Beverly’s, Ellie seized the chance to give her child a two day break before returning late on Sunday night to resume the last week of the school term. The atmosphere however remained tense around the cottage for Ellie avoided Nana Charlotte like the plague.

She still could not understand how her grandmother could ever have just ‘disposed’ of a child without any feelings or apparent sense of loss. To Ellie, it cast Nana Charlotte in a totally new and unacceptably cruel light.

As the week progressed Ellie also seemed to feel an increasing sense of loss. She could not stop wondering what her lost uncle might have been like had he been around as an adult. She tried to imagine a younger version of her dad and then trying to attach her aunts’ features to the image but all this did was increase her sense of loss. Then she began to feel sorry for the ‘poor little boy’ who must have endured a ghastly sense of rejection and loss. Finally, as her thoughts and fears invaded her every spare moment, she concluded that the kid must have become a seriously disturbed juvenile who in all probability died in his early years either through suicide or some-sort of ghastly sexual murder. Additionally, during the next week, as her thoughts kept returning to the issue of her newly discovered uncle – she started to make some silly errors that compelled Miss Beverly to call her into her office again before closing on Friday.

“Is everything okay Ellie?” Beverly asked as Ellie settled in the chair.

“So so, Miss Beverly, why d’you ask?”

“Well, you’ve made a few uncharacteristic mistakes in your figures this week. One was quite serious and the ship had to shut out a couple of containers. It was seasonal cargo and we had to meet the penalty clause conditions. The containers were re-routed through Southampton and Spain at our expense. Now that’s not like you, and the girls in despatch did not pick up on it because of the spring rush. I was just wondering if you’ve still got something on your mind.”

Ellie hesitated. She did not like bringing her domestic problems to work and she rarely chatted to the other girls about personal affairs. The other girls tended to regard her as something of a ‘cold-fish’ who was pre-occupied with figures and equations. Reluctantly she opened up to Miss Beverly.

“My family are having issues about Callum and his cross-dressing.”

“Who? The Duchess? Surely not! They struck me as admirably kind and tolerant.”

“Oh no, not the in-laws. Molly’s fine with it. It’s my own family, my grandmother mostly. She’s dead set against my son for his activities and I learned something dreadful last weekend.”

“Would it help to talk or would you prefer I didn’t get involved.”

“I don’t know. What I learned shocked me to the core. I suppose I’ll get over it but it’s altered my view about my Nana.”

“Well if you’d prefer to leave it for now then I’m all for that. If it continues to distract you though, then I’ll try and help because it could damage my company and I’m sure neither of us would want that. You’ve been a rare find for me and I would hate to lose you. There was a bonus coming to you at the end of this month because you’ve done wonders for the company. I’d hate to have to refuse it because of some problem you have at home. If there’s anything I can do to help don’t hesitate.”

Ellie nodded but initially stayed silent as she considered her options. She knew that Miss Beverly was an excellent employer and now pretty much a personal friend. The silence hung heavy as Ellie sensed that Miss Beverly wanted to help her and simultaneously help her shipping line. Ellie decided to risk it.

“Miss Beverly, what would you do if you were me and you discovered my Nana had a huge secret that she had never revealed to me?”
Beverly sat silent for long seconds before asking.

“Does it affect you directly; you know, materially, or is it an emotional hurt? A betrayal or something. She’s not your real Nana or something.”

“It’s more emotional than material. She did something long ago – before I was even born even, but it shocked me. I never realised she could have a cruel heartless streak.”

“So it doesn’t affect you directly.”

“No, but it caused problems for Callum. He found out about it. We had a family row about it; you know; lots of shouting and condemnations – well, you understand big ears and little keyholes! Callum overheard part of the row and he became frightened that his great-grandmother would do the same to him.”

“But you of course reassured him that you’re his mum and so on.”

“Oh yes, of course I did but it left me feeling pained and disappointed that my Nana could have done what she did. It’s left me more than a bit angry and, dare I say it; it’s changed my opinion of her quite a bit.”

Beverly tried to pour oil on troubled waters.

“Well, so long as Callum’s allowed to continue and as long as you’re okay with it. There shouldn’t be a problem, should there?”

“Well yes,” Ellie conceded, “I suppose as long as she doesn’t say or do anything cruel to my son, or make him feel uncomfortable then it shouldn’t go any further. The problem is I feel she’ll always be antagonistic about it and even the most innocuous questions or remarks will create guilt problems for Callum. People can be really cunning in their efforts to prevent transvestism or more accurately preventing the events or circumstances surrounding transvestism that bring embarrassment to the family.”

Beverly let out a sharp ironic laugh.

“Huh, ain’t that the truth and don’t I know it? But I suppose you’ll get around to forgiving her if what she did all those years ago doesn’t directly affect you today.”

“I suppose I could but it truly shocked me.”

“Well for now, all I can do is ask you to try and make sure that this business doesn’t affect your work anymore. For now I’ll wait and see. Is that fair?”

“Perfectly, and thanks for listening.”

Beverly smiled and started clearing her desk to go home. Ellie left and did the same. The usual weekend rush was made worse by heavy rain and she was five minutes late picking Callum up from the ‘after-school’ club. He was just beginning to tear up as she pulled up to the school gates.

“You’re late; I thought you were leaving me here.”

She reached across the car and hugged him tight.

“No dear, I’d never do that. I finished late at work then the rain and traffic held me up.”

He held tightly on to her and Ellie silently cursed Nana Charlotte for sowing the seeds of insecurity in her child. Fortunately she hoped to be able to reinforce the bonds between her and Callum at the pony riding sessions on Saturday and Sunday. Eventually Callum released his desperate hug and slowly he started to brighten up as Ellie picked her way through the Friday night rush. When they arrived home he was chatting happily and his mood did not lessen when they entered the cottage.

The next morning he was very chirpy as they prepared to go to the riding school. They said goodbye to Grandpa Bill but Nana Charlotte was still abed when they left and Callum had refused Ellie’s suggestion to pop up and say goodbye in Nana’s bedroom. The weather had improved and they arrived at the riding school just before noon. Ellie noticed several cars and a school minibus from a school somewhere in the midlands. Miss Beverly was standing by her garden gate chatting to an adult and students who appeared to be of college age. She introduced them to Ellie as they met.

“Hello darling, how was the trip?”

“Okay but there’s some big thing going on just outside Poole so I came via the back roads.”

“Oh good, well you didn’t meet them last time but this is Angela, my wife, and these young ladies are Jennifer and Beatrice, they are my adopted daughters. Sian is my friend who runs the riding school. The other children are either gone into town or busy hereabouts. Now is this the young lady wanting riding lessons? Callista isn’t it? That’s a pretty jacket and smart pink jodhpurs I see.”

Callista beamed at Beverly. There had been no inquisitorial stares or any sense of any sort of censure and she answered clearly as she sensed no threat.

“Yes Miss Taff.”

“Very good my girl. Sian here will introduce you to your pony while your mum chats to me in the house, is that okay? When you’re ready we’ll come and watch your first lesson alright.”

“I can already ride,” Callista informed them.

“Well we’ll make it an advanced lesson then; some jumps and a few mobility tests.

Callista beamed as she trotted eagerly after Sian, Beatrice and Jennifer while Angela and Beverly accompanied Ellie inside. Angela made some tea and they settled in the drawing room that overlooked the whole of Poole, Bournemouth and the harbour.
Beverly opened up the questions.

“Is everything sorted at home?”

“Not really,” Ellie wagged her head. “I didn’t speak to my Nana all evening. Things are pretty cool between us.”

“Give it time.” Beverly nodded thoughtfully.

“I’m not sure time will ever sort it.”

“That bad is it?”

Ellie nodded again, still loath to reveal the full horror of what she had learned. She still found the fact abhorrent. ‘Just how could any mother do that to a child – her own child no less!!?’ She asked herself.

Beverly sat silent as she watched Ellie obviously wrestling with what she had discovered. She exchanged glances with Angela who seemed to be getting anxious at the oppressive silence. Finally Angela felt forced to ask.

“Would it help to talk darling?”

Ellie looked up and blinked, partly from embarrassment and partly with uncertainty.

“I don’t know. It makes my Nana look pretty horrible – casts her in a cruel light as it were. I’m not sure I want to talk about it. It makes my family look evil. I’m not sure if I can even trust my dad or my aunts any more. They stayed silent about it all my life, and my cousins’ lives as well.”

“Your cousins?” Beverly wondered aloud.

“Yes. I’ve learned my cousins didn’t know about it either. I’ve always loved my dad, and trusted him. But this, well, I can’t stop thinking about it. I mean the boy was just like Callista. I couldn’t just get rid of her for being what she is. She’s my own flesh and blood!”

Beverly squinted thoughtfully through narrowed eyes as she considered Ellie’s word.

“Are you saying your grandmother got rid of a child?”

Ellie tensed guiltily, in her stress she had revealed too much. She gave a brief nod and cast her eyes to the floor, whether in shame or guilt, she could not decide. Either way, she did not want to take it further. Unfortunately Beverly did and she pressed the younger girl.

“Did she give it up for adoption or what?”

Ellie wanted to close the issue – shut it out, or at least let it lie until she was in a better mood to deal with it.

“Not now Miss Beverly. It’s a bit painful, maybe another time.”

Beverly nodded and shrugged before reaching out to sip her tea.

“Another time then, but not too late my dear. I don’t want you making any more mistakes.”

Ellie grinned gratefully; glad that Beverly had the wit and understanding not to probe to deeply.

“That gives me until Sunday then. I’m back working with you on Monday.”

“Take a few days off if you need them. Better that you’re up to the mark than distracted and liable to more errors.”

“I want to run a few things past my dad before I tell you anymore. He was pretty much an innocent party in the first part. He was only a child then as well.”

Beverly let the subject drop and changed it to the plans for the new continental service. By the end of the afternoon the riding lessons for Callista were ended and she burst into the cottage full of excitement. Later on Beverly’s younger children returned from Bournemouth and were excited to meet another child. After dinner they disappeared to play on their I-pods while the adults sat around talking about Beatrice’s and Jennifer experiences with the pirates and their later adoption by Beverly. This inevitably led to discussions about Beverly's other adopted children and Ellie's learning of their gender issues.

On learning of these, Ellie felt much more at ease she resolved to discuss her own issues whilst the children were out riding on the Sunday morning. She knew she had at least a sympathetic ear in Miss Beverly insofar as the older woman had much experience of firstly being transgendered herself and also having adopted transgendered children. By bedtime Ellie was a much calmer and happier woman as she made her way to bed. In her bedroom, she was amused and pleased to find a little head already asleep on her pillow and she took extra care slipping into bed. There was a slight murmur but nothing more and Ellie slept well that night despite the odd turn or twitch from the little body spooned tight into her. Dawn found them wrapped together with Callista still spooned into Ellie’s embrace.

After breakfast the children accompanied Beatrice and Jennifer into the stables to help Sian prepare the horses for the visiting school. With the school party safely despatched, Callista got to Join Miss Beverly’s children on a long pleasing ride. Not surprisingly she learned lots about their various circumstances and gender issues. She returned at lunch time a much more relaxed and confident child.

Ellie meanwhile spent the morning discussing her family issues with Beverly.

“Have you thought anymore about any resolutions or solutions to the issues surrounding Callista?” Beverly ventured.

“I’m more determined than ever to protect her from Nana.”

“Is there no hope of her changing her mind?”

“I intend speaking to her tonight, once Callista’s in bed. I’ll have my dad there as well and I’ll finally get a firm answer from him.”

“What about; - his feelings about Callista or his feelings towards Nana Charlotte?”

“Maybe a bit of both or neither, as he’s already told me, he was only a boy himself when it happened. He seems to have put it all behind him and that is something I find uncharacteristic for my dad. He was such a lovely guy – well he IS such a lovely guy. He’s my dad and I’ve worshipped the ground he walked on all my life; doubly so since mum died. I’ve got nobody but him if I fall out with my Nan. I hope he takes my Auntie’s sides and not my Nan’s.”

“What’s their take then?”

“Well according to my Auntie Sandra, her younger brother was stealing her clothes and she and he finally had a huge fight over it. She hurt her younger brother quite badly and she expected to be punished for it. Instead her mother and father simply had the boy sent away and that was the last they saw of him. She never expected it to come to such a final conclusion but it did and she never saw the boy again. She feels quite guilty but it was hardly her fault that her parents reacted so cruelly.”

Beverly shrugged and wagged her head.

“There’s no accounting for other people, you’re well out of it; or so it seems to me. Just make sure you and Callista don’t get too involved with your Nan.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t. But I’d love to know what happened to him. He might even still be alive. That’d be a turn up for the books wouldn’t it?
I’d love to meet him if he was.”

“I think he’d be a pretty screwed up guy if he was alive. Growing up in care and stuff really sucks. It leaves some deep wounds. He’d probably hate you if he discovered you.”

“He’d hate my Nana more and have every reason to.”

“That and all. Anyway, it’s unlikely to happen so what about Callum growing up to be the Duke of Denton. What happens if he chooses to become a girl, you know the full ten yards, GRS and everything?”

Ellie shrugged.

“Even if he can’t hold the title after a sex change, he still gets to inherit the estate and all that.”

Beverly grinned.

“I suppose he could become the Duchess of Denton. It would sure play havoc with all the heraldic nonsense and Sallic laws.”

“I think grandpa Harry is already looking into that. After the law affecting the Royal succession was changed, it’s got to percolate down through the college of heralds and the nobility. I’ll chat with him about it when we next go north. Do you think Callista is a transsexual? I mean he’s still only six.”

“I don’t know. I pretty much knew when I was his age but I’ve met other tee-girls who didn’t decide until they were much older. You’ll just have to wait and watch. What I do know is that there’s little that can turn us tee-girls from our course. Once we know – we know.”

Ellie sighed.

“Well I suppose I’ll find out one way or another, sooner rather than later. Didn’t you say we were going into Bournemouth later today?”

“I think the children would want to come, we’ll go after an early lunch.”

They chatted at length about several other subjects including the new trade from Humber to Germany. Their discussions only ceased when they heard the sound of many hooves in the yard. Beatrice, Jennifer and the children had joined up with the Birmingham school and over a score of ponies returned clattering noisily through the gate. Ellie watched fascinated as Callista enthusiastically shared in the cleaning and bedding of the horses before scampering off to wash herself. She and Beverly’s children eventually re-appeared scrubbed and tidy ready for an afternoon’s shopping.

Ellie smiled when she noticed the hint of lipstick on Callista’s lips, obviously applied by one of the older girls though probably at Callista’s insistence. Her daughter was growing up – make up and not yet even a teenager.

The trip into Bournemouth proved a resounding success and it was with great reluctance that Ellie had to take Callista home while the others returned to Miss Beverly’s cottage. Ellie noticed Callista’s mood darken as they approached home and she frowned inwardly.
‘No child should be afraid of coming home,’ she told herself.

After a quick supper Callista plodded upstairs and was asleep in moments. After Ellie came down Nana Charlotte met her in the communal hall as Ellie was going to see her dad.

“Can we talk?” Charlotte asked.

“What about?”

“Callum; Callista.”

“There’s nothing to discuss.”

“Are you going to let her go full time as a girl then?”

“If she wants to.” Ellie confirmed.

“What, in school as well?”

“I’ve got that in hand.”

“How?”

“That’s for me to know – and you’ll have no part in it.”

“So it’s to be like that then?”

“As I said before, as long as you try to make her uncomfortable in her frocks, you’ll have nothing to do with her.”

“Her?”

“Yes. Her! You’ll not poison Callista with your attitude. I would have thought you might have mellowed after all those years. What sort of mother could do what you did to a six-year-old child? I’ll never understand that but there's one thing I do know; you’ll never get your claws into my child.”

“That's not fair! Things were different then.” Nana Charlotte protested.

“You could have still kept in touch. Not once, not once did you go to see him. My dad and both aunties confirm that.”

Nana Charlotte spoke softly as she reluctantly confessed. A tear leaked from her eye.

“Please understand Ellie. I was ashamed . I can’t help it; my generation were brought up differently from yours. It’s hard to change. I’m still ashamed of it. I was ashamed of the problems it brought upon my family then and I still feel uncomfortable now. I can’t help it, I’m trying.

Your dad and I had another argument about it last night while you were away with your boss. She seems to be such a caring and compassionate woman. That’s remarkable in a woman who is little short of a captain of industry. I’d love to meet her. I wonder how she combined the ruthlessness required to make her way in a man’s world and still yet be so kind to you. Perhaps she can explain how she deals with children like Callum; maybe she can give me pointers.”

Ellie softened, deep down she still loved her Nan.

“There’s a lot more to Beverly than meets the eye Nana. Maybe I shouldn’t tell you this but it's no secret amongst her friends and business associates. You see, Beverly was once like Callista. Beverly was once a boy and indeed a man. She’s only just recently made the final step. Imagine how hard that must have been.”

Nana Charlotte fell silent as she digested the new information. The fact that Beverly was once a child with Callum’s disabilities, and yet could surmount them and make her own way made Nana Charlotte even keener to meet her. She wondered if Beverly looked like a ‘docker-in-a-frock’ or had managed that all important skill of really looking like a woman. A hundred other questions raced through her mind but she decided to curtail the discussion for the present. Her learning curve was suddenly becoming steeper and more painful.

“Shall we have a cup of tea; my head’s reeling just now?”

Ellie was more than keen to let it drop. The day had been exhausting and she just wanted to unwind by flopping in front of the telly.

“Yes, that would be good, shall I fetch dad?”

Charlotte nodded as she made for the communal kitchen and emerged with cups and saucers as William entered with Ellie. The three sat with Ellie and Charlotte unusually silent while William did what men did most of the time, sip his tea and stare into the fire. Bedtime arrived with little being said except a promise from Ellie that she’d speak to Beverly about arranging a visit from her boss.

~~o000o~~

1 Novel Chapter 9

The next morning Nana Charlotte watched from her bedroom window as her granddaughter took her great-grandchild to school before making her own way to work. Charlotte watched wonderingly as she noted he was wearing a boy’s school uniform instead of a dress.

‘So he still has to abide by the school rules.’ She mused somewhat incorrectly.

In truth there were no formal school rules about gender conformity for like many schools in Britain, now confronted with the advent of gender issues coming out into the open, Callum’s school was also considering the issue even though Callum had not yet ‘come out’ at school. If Callum moved ‘up North’ then the issue surrounding Callista would never emerge. Callum had chosen himself to wear boy’s clothes at his current school to avoid any conflict with his peers. He wasn’t very comfortable with the arrangement but at least he avoided any harassment.

As they turned out of the cottage gates, Ellie advised Callum.

“It seems Nana Charlotte might be coming around. She wants to meet Miss Beverly.”

Callum’s eyes widened hopefully.

“D’you think Miss Beverly will make Nana change?”

Ellie paused thoughtfully as they stopped at some traffic lights.

“Yes darling; yes I think she will. I’ll be speaking to my boss this morning and I’ll mention it over coffee.”

Callum smiled then sighed with relief as he settled back comfortably into the seat.

“I hope so. Nana Charlotte can be awfully strict.”

The remaining drive to school continued in silence as mother and child reflected on the situation. They arrived at the school and Callum sighed slightly as he forced himself to enter the school. Ellie watched thoughtfully for she was still slightly worried slightly about her child. She entered the office before Beverly who had arrived earlier but was busy out on the quay watching the Speedwell docking. Elli knew that Miss Beverly had a close affection for its captain for they had once been shipmates. Eventually Beverly arrived in the office with Billy the Speedwells’ captain and Mac, the chief engineer in tow. Ellie knew the pair well.

“Coffee gentlemen?” Ellie offered.

“Oh belay that thanks,” Billy replied, “we’re going up town to have a coffee. D’you want to come Ellie?”

Ellie needed no second invitation. She closed up her lap-top and grinned.

“All my paper-work is up to date, try stopping me.”

The four clambered into a taxi and soon found themselves in the Poole Yacht Club restaurant. The coffee stretched to lunch as Ellie listened fascinated while the three reminisced about old times and shared voyages. Eventually Beverly’s older bladder forced her to the loo while the captain and chief engineer chatted on. They continued chattering about old times and naturally Beverly’s previous life as a captain cropped up several times. Ellie listened avidly for Beverly had never talked much about her pre-woman days, mainly because she had little cause to.

Curiosity got the better of Ellie and occasionally asked Mac or Billy to elaborate. Billy and Mac responded quite openly for they had rightly assumed Beverly had nothing to hide about her past. Ellie asked them about the rescue of the two little girls Beatrice and Jennifer. Billy smiled as he recounted the event briefly before finishing the tale with praise for his old friend..

“Aye, she was good when she was a man as well.” Billy remarked. “Not many skippers would have hauled around for a bloody punctured life-raft; especially with pirates infesting the area. Those two kids would have been dead if they had been left for one more hour; talk about luck!”

“You know she adopted them don’t you?” Ellie added.

Mac Nodded.

“Beatrice and Jennifer; oh yes, she brought them up all the way to university age. They’re very lucky girls and they know it. Worship the ground the Skipper walks on they do.”

“Yes, he adopted them even before he changed over to ‘she’.” Billy added. “I believe the girls chose to keep Skippers male sir-name. - A sort of permanent thank you to Bev for saving their lives.”

“Yes, I heard that story when she was more or less forced to entertain the duke and Duchess when she went up to Yorkshire to see me and Callum. She wasn’t keen to tell it but it was a case of being expected to ‘sing for her supper’. She didn’t reveal her old male name though.”

“Has she not mentioned it to you since?” Mac asked.

“No. She’s never had cause to.”

The Scottish engineer laughed softly.

“Hah. Typical Bev. She didn’t talk much about herself as Bernard and she doesn’t talk much as Beverly, well leastways, not about herself.”

Ellie squinted curiously.

“Was that her name; Bernard?”

“Aye. Bernard; Bernard Holst,” Billy cocked his head in mild amusement. “It’s a right dreary name,” Billy expressed the name with a long dreary
vowel sound, “Buuurnurrd; it's no wonder she changed it. Beverly’s a pretty name. Beverly Taff, it’s got a nice ring to it that, sort of cheerful – short and sweet.”

Ellie felt a cold serpentine chill slither up her spine from the pit of her stomach as she repeated the name.

“Bernard Holst? That was really her name?”

“Aye, hey-up here she comes.” Mac nodded affectionately towards Beverly as she returned.

Ellie found herself staring in wide-eyed shock at Beverly as she struggled to find breath for words. Beverly sensed the younger girl’s distress and asked.

“Are you okay love, you look quite pale?”

Ellie managed to croak out her reply.

“No! No I’m not. Can we go back to the office? Pleeease!”

Mac now sensed the young girl was not well.

“D’you want a glass of water lassie?”

“A bloody stiff whisky would be better!” Ellie replied. “Can we go?”

She stood quickly to demonstrate her unease and the others quickly sensed there was something seriously amiss. Billy asked with some concern.

“Is it something we said? Have we offended you?”

“No. Well yes, but it’s not your fault. It is something you said but it wasn’t offensive. I need to go back to the office. Please Miss Beverly, I think this is important!”

As Ellie made for the exit Beverly turned to the men and furrowed her brow as she frowned.

“What have you said to upset her now? You haven’t been crude or something have you?”

“Certainly not!” Mac protested. We haven’t put a word out of place.”

As she was heading for the door, Ellie heard Beverly scolding the two men so she turned to explain.

“No it’s nothing like that Miss Beverly! They’ve been perfect gentlemen. But I need to talk to you - in private if you please!”

“Can it not be said here, we’re amongst two of my closest friends and confidants.” Beverly wondered.

“Uuuhm – no! This is important, and very, very private.”

Beverly sighed as she turned to Billy and Mac.

“You two had better get a taxi to your apartment.”

“Will you two be alright?” Billy checked.

“I don’t know,” Beverly observed, “I don’t know what this is about. See you boys. The ship sails early tomorrow morning high water.”

The two pairs separated and Beverly pressed Ellie in their taxi.

“What’s all this about?”

“Your previous name! Was it Bernard Holst?”

“Yeah. It’s no secret. Everybody knows.”

“I didn’t. We need to talk but not here; somewhere more private.” She nodded towards the taxi-driver.

Beverly shrugged and they fell silent as the taxi picked its way through the traffic. Ellie’s constant intense stares unsettled her a bit but Beverly felt that would resolve itself when they got to the office. Once inside Beverly turned to demand an explanation.

“Right girl! What’s all this about and what’s with all the scrutiny? You’ve been staring at me all the way here.”

“Your name; your previous Male name, it was definitely Bernard Holst?”

“Yes! I just told you didn’t I?”

Ellie nodded slowly before declaring.

“My maiden name was Holst, Eleanor Holst before I married Henry.”

“And?”

“It’s the same. The same as yours.”

“You said that; so what? It’s not an uncommon name. What’s all this about?”

Ellie took a slow deep breath.

“What happened to you as a child, a very small child?”

Beverly hesitated then replied softly.

“Oh good God girl! You don’t want to know. Let’s not go there.”

“I have to go there as you put it. I need to know. Were you abandoned as a child?”

Beverly frowned as she now stared at Ellie. Finally she confirmed –

“Yeees. What’s all this about?”

“It’s about the row I’ve had with my grandmother all this week. Her name’s Charlotte. She had a son put away at aged six for being transgendered. His name was Bernard, Bernard Holst. It just can’t be a coincidence. No there’s just too much the same. Was it in North Wales?”

“Beverly gaped disbelievingly then whispered, “Yes”.

“The year!?” Ellie demanded.

“Nineteen fifty two.” Beverly remembered the year, month and day with deadly precision, almost as though it was yesterday - the day her young life was smashed to pieces.

Ellie wagged her head in similar disbelief.

“This can’t be happening. “What was your brother’s name? What was your sister’s name?”

“William, I had two sisters, Sandra and Rose.”

Ellie nodded slightly as she assimilated the facts. After a painful silent pause she confirmed.

"My father and aunts are named William, Sandie and Rosie. All the facts match exactly. I think you’re my long lost uncle.”

“Aunt”, Beverly corrected her as she tried to grasp the facts.

Ellie nodded knowingly.

“Sorry! That was inexcusable of me; yes, aunt of course. Irrespective of that, I’m certain I’m your niece!”

The silence returned, hanging like a dense fog until Beverly spoke softly again.

“You’d better not be messing with me girl. To me my family are all dead. Now you turn up, like some spectre at the feast - but it’s no feast. That I can promise you.”

“They’re certainly not dead – and my auntie Sandra has been searching for you for years. If you hadn’t changed your name she might have found you, Bernard Holst is not a common name. You’re wrong about that.”

“I could hardly change my gender and remain with a boy’s name could I?”

“Never mind about that, where you never curious? Did you never think about them – go looking for them?”

“Good God no! Why would I do that? They rejected me out of hand. Rejection, rejection, rejection! That’s all I ever knew. They never came p
looking for me – not once! Not a single solitary visitor all through the shit, so why would I go looking for them. Why would I go looking for more of the same? More rejection, more hate.”

“Your siblings didn’t hate you! Isn’t that a bit selfish? Your brother, my dad! He’s always wondered what happened to you. You could at least have made a token search, you have been selfish””

“Selfish!!!” Beverly shrieked with rage. “Selfish!! – What do you know girl!!? What the fuck do you know? Damn you! Damn you! Damn you! What do you fucking know!!!?”

Ellie almost lurched backwards at the fury of Beverly’s response. She cringed under the onslaught of rage and hate. She had never before seen the normally sweet-natured Beverly get so incandescent with emotion.

“I’m sorry!” She croaked fearfully. “Perhaps I shouldn’t have pried.”

Beverly almost shrieked in pained rage; so loudly that one of the girls in the outer office came to check if things were okay. Beverly hardly managed to restrain her language as she ordered the girl out. As she slammed the door she returned to addressing a stunned Ellie.

“No! No you fucking shouldn’t have pried. And now; here you are; a reminder of all that was hateful and destructive; all that was my torment my nemesis. I -”

Beverly stopped briefly as she stared at the floor then she looked up with a piercing narrow glare. Ellie had always considered herself a good barometer of people’s emotions but Beverly’s expression was almost indecipherable.

It seemed like a mixture of rage, sorrow, loss, and fear - to mention but a few. After a deafening silence Beverly turned away again and sobbed.

“Go home Ellie. Go home; – get out before I do something I regret.”

Ellie swallowed partly in fear and partly in panic at the thought of losing her job.

“Are you sacking me?”

“Just go home.”

“I need to know, you can’t just leave me not knowing –“

Beverly’s lower jaw trembled as she fumbled in her bag.

“Just – bloody - go!”

Ellie grabbed her bag, lap-top and keys then almost stumbled out of the office. She could have sworn she heard her boss crying but she was too afraid to go back. Once outside the dock gates, she found a quiet lay-by and pulled over to reflect and wonder.

‘What the hell was all that about?’ She wondered. ‘Obviously her boss must have serious issues about her childhood but Beverly’s outburst had left Ellie stunned. It was so out of character – and her language; Ellie never even knew Beverly had that sort of language in her lexicon’

She sat alternately working on her lap-top then cogitating in the car for almost an hour until it was time to pick Callum up from school. Even after waiting in the car for over an hour, she was still early collecting him.

As she parked away from the school gates, she sent one last email with a heartfelt apology and hoped Miss Beverly might forgive her. After closing up her laptop, she joined the other mothers gathered by the school gates though she was still early. Normally she collected Callum from ‘after school club’.

As she drove him home he babbled on about his day like any schoolgirl but Ellie was too preoccupied to take anything in. When they arrived home Nana Charlotte was sitting waiting on the garden swing. On spotting her grandmother, Ellie avoided parking in her usual spot and swept around the side of the cottage to enter her apartment by her own back door. She and Callum were in before Nana Charlotte could get around the house; her elderly legs were just too slow. Instead Charlotte was forced to enter by the communal front door and knock on Ellie’s internal front door. Ellie answered it reluctantly.

“What d’you want?”

Nana Charlotte looked pained.

“We have to talk.”

“I’m done talking Nana. You’ve made your feelings perfectly clear. There’s nothing else to discuss.”

“But there is.”

“What? What is there to discuss? You’ve said it all and I don’t think you’ll ever change!”

“No but I can at least agree to differ; agree not to argue about it anymore. He’s your son and that’s that.”

“Exactly Nana! He’s my son, my child my daughter even. You will not interfere!”

“Point taken.”

“I mean it! No more trying to get inside my child’s head and cause grief by guilt!” Then Ellie hesitated as Charlotte’s words sank in. “What.... what d’ you mean ‘point taken’?”

“I mean okay. I won’t interfere. I won’t try to influence the child, but I still want to see him, he’s my great grandchild after all.”

“I want that in writing, I want your word on that in writing.”

“Wha.... don’t you trust me?”

“Frankly no. I’ll let you see him, play with him even; perhaps even go out with him sometimes but at the first whisper of you trying to ‘cure’ him or perhaps more correctly ‘her’, the deal’s off.”

“I could only go out with him if you or your dad takes us. You know I don’t drive these days.”

Having agreed to differ, Ellie let Charlotte into her part of the cottage as she quickly printed out an agreement from her lap-top. Charlotte bit her lip with remorse, she hadn’t realised Ellie really meant it. Reluctantly she took the proffered sheet, studied it and signed it somewhat resentfully.

“There! That’s done. Now, will you be sharing dinner tonight?” She asked Ellie.

“Yes. I’ll order a takeaway; it’s been a stressful day. Not just this business, but work as well.”

“I can cook something”, Charlotte offered.

“No it’s my turn. What time’s dad coming back?”

“Bout sixish.”

Ellie nodded and turned to prepare the table in her dining room. Charlotte was quietly grateful that at least the family arrangements were still working.

“I’ll help you with that.”

“Thank you; better if you went into Callista and listened to her read. She’ll be changed by now and in a frock.”

“We start as you mean to go on is it?” Charlotte wondered uncertainly.

“No; we start as Callista wants to go on, it’s her choice ---- her need even!”

Charlotte sensed the steel in her grand-daughter’s demeanour and said no more as she retreated into the drawing room. She found her great-grand-child already curled up in her favourite armchair tapping contentedly on her I-pod.

“That’s a pretty frock.”

Callista looked up and smiled nervously.

“D’you really like it?”

“Yes,” Charlotte lied. “Ellie’s asked me to hear you read, what d’you want to read?”

“Can we do black beauty?”

“Oh yes. That was always a favourite of mine as well, are you doing that at school then?”

Callista nodded and sprang off her chair to collect the book from her school bag. Charlotte settled in another armchair and Callista looked at her expectantly.

“Can I sit on your knee?”

“Yes, but be gentle, these bones are getting old.”

“How old are you Nana?”

“Ooooh, it’s rude to ask a lady her age but I’ll tell you because you’re family; I’m ninety two.”

“Gosh! Will you live to be a hundred?”

“Oh now that would be a fine thing, telegram from the queen and all that.”

Callista’s eyes widened as she carefully slid up onto Charlotte’s lap before opening the book and reading. Later, William arrived home and shortly after the ‘takeaway’ arrived. The family sat down around the table but Ellie decided not to mention her news about finding her uncle. ‘Or should that read aunt?” She corrected herself.

She felt it would be better first to make sure that she still had her job. To this end she consulted her text messages several times. So much so that Charlotte frowned.

“That’s as bad as reading at the table young lady!”

“Sorry Nana, it’s to do with work, I was pre-occupied and it’s very important.”

“More important than family it seems!” William added. “You’ve hardly said a word to me since I arrived home.”

Ellie felt like screaming that ‘IT WAS FAMILY!’ but she bit her tongue and replied quietly.

“You’ve only been shopping Dad not an expedition to the jungle, and besides, I didn’t see you come back with anything exciting.”

Despite her self control Ellie still felt like telling them, ‘Besides this is to do with family.’ But she managed to bite her tongue. There had been no reply yet from her boss and Ellie was getting worried.

Later that night she finally got a reply by text.

‘Sorry I swore at you. Can I see you tomorrow? Today’s events have shaken me badly; hopefully, I’ll be in a better frame of mind? I know it’s Saturday but there won‘t be any work to distract us.”

Ellie texted back joyfully ‘YES!’

Ellie slept better that night and was quite excited the following Saturday morning, so much so both her father and Nan commented on her cheerful mood. She happily left Callista with her dad and Nana for she knew at least that her father was supportive of Callista's needs. Nana Charlotte could not play mind games with her child whilst her dad was present. It was a clear sunny morning and the journey to her office flew by. She arrived humming happily to herself and found that Beverly was already in the office making coffee. Beverly smiled ruefully as she carried a tray of mugs and biscuits and set them down on the table as Ellie took off her coat.

“Sit down darling;” Beverly invited, “this is going to be difficult. Sorry about yesterday, sometimes it hard to think about it when I’m reminded; other times it’s not so hard. Yesterday you caught me unprepared so it was a bad time. Overnight I got it sorted in my head. I think I can handle it at the moment.”

“So finally I get to know. Was it really that bad?”

Beverly pursed her lips and gave Ellie a thoughtful look.

“You’ve absolutely no idea Ellie. Count yourself privileged. You’ll be one of the few to know the full thing. I’ve told very few people the full story, just a judge and a couple of social workers who helped me adopt the girls. Even Angela, my own wife, doesn't know the full thing.

Now, if you really are my niece, then you should know what that monster Charlotte did to me, if only so that you are fore-armed. Then you’ll know why it’s a good idea to keep that monster away from your child.”

“That’s my Nan you’re talking about;" Ellie protested mildly, "she’s not really a monster; a little set in her ways perhaps, but never a monster. She’s ---“

“Dammit Ellie! Don't interrupt! I know what she is!!”

Beverly had interrupted a little too sharply and Ellie frowned impatiently. She hadn’t come for a shouting match but she now realised that Beverly was unduly stressed by the meeting and consequently Ellie softened her tone.

“Sorry Miss Beverly, I didn’t realise how bad this must be for you.”

“Thank you Ellie, firstly I’m sorry I was rude yesterday. I didn’t mean to shout again this morning but sadly I have been stressed out all night and despite all your protestations, I know what she is Ellie and it's not possible for me to change my feelings and opinions about her. If she’s really who you say she is then she was the bitch that spawned me – the whore that rejected me. I can’t apologise for using those words. I can’t use the word mother to describe her because that’s a word that means everything and yet nothing to me. Everything I lost, leaving nothing to love. But enough of all the maudlin, self pity stuff. Prepare yourself for some real shit --- then make up your own mind. D’ you want to hear this stuff or not?”

Ellie hesitated then forced herself to say -

“Yes! Was it really that bad?”

The mood in the room seemed to turn cold but Ellie pressed on as she sensed, and even seemed to physically feel the darkness yet to come.”
Beverly nodded as she took her first sip of coffee and settled in the opposite armchair. The silence hung thick again just like the previous afternoon but this time Beverly didn’t let it endure. She picked nervously at a thread in the arm of the chair as she conjured up the courage to take the conversation forward. Finally she looked up and spoke softly. Ellie could readily see that Beverly was struggling to stay calm and resolute. Finally the words came.

“If you are who you say you are; you’ll have worked out that I’m two years younger than William, your dad --- my brother.”

“Yes,” Ellie agreed. “So you were born just after the war then.”

“Correct, it was nineteen forty six but that’s immaterial except to set the time period and the circumstances prevalent at that time.”

Ellie nodded; “Go on.”

Beverly drew a deep, uncertain breath then resumed talking in the same soft but strained tone.

“I started dressing; that is cross-dressing when I was four. I presume you know about transvestism and transgenderism so you'll know that's the usual sort of thing. Stealing my sister’s knickers and that sort of thing; your Auntie Rosie’s and Auntie Sandra’s knickers to be precise. You’ll know they were fourteen and sixteen then.”

Ellie nodded but stayed silent. She could sense that any interruption might stop the older woman. Beverly picked up again.

“Two years later at aged six, I found a pair of her stockings and put them on. Needless to say I laddered them because I didn’t put them on properly. My sister was going out that night and when she found them laddered she didn’t have another pair. Finally, she lost her temper. She was sick of finding her underwear disturbed and dishevelled. Well the upshot was she became so angry that evening she lost her temper and tried to castrate me.

She said ‘If I wanted to be a girl, she would bloody well make me into one.’ Fortunately all she managed to do was cut into my scrotum with her fingernails and cause it to bleed before my father came running upstairs at my screams. They had to take me to the casualty unit and I was kept in for three days. Mostly for assessment and stuff I think.

Anyway, when I came home, arrangements were already in hand to have me ‘put away’. I was the problem you see, the thief, - the pervert, - the .....‘sicko’.”

Beverly sensed the hateful irony causing Beverly words to stick like phlegm in her throat. After a brief pause, she carried on.

“Some days later a big maroon and black car arrived to take me away and I was simply told that the doctors were going to help me and I would be ‘cured’. The last sight I ever had of the bitch that spawned me was of her standing by the garden gate and watching the car going up the road. She turned and walked inside even before I was out of sight. I was kneeling on the back seat looking out of a small oval rear window until she disappeared. No goodbyes, no waves, no kisses, and no promises to come and see me – she never did you know. None of those bastards ever did!”

Ellie felt forced to comment.

“Yes. I know that bit; Auntie Sandie confirmed that, even though she kept looking for you.”

Beverly nodded but the set of her jaw and pursed lips told the harder story as she continued.

“Six years I spent in that fucking hell-hole. Six years of therapy, six bloody years of abuse. You name it, I got it. Waking up with my joints in agony after electro-convulsive therapy and yet those bastards kept telling me ‘it wasn’t painful’. It was! - Well the aftermath was, aching joints, muscle cramps, pins and needles – you name it. Not to mention the head-aches, the dizziness, and the bleeding eyeballs – yes tears of fucking blood!!! Sorry, no call for that sort of language but – well.

Then there was chemical aversion therapy causing me to vomit and wretch with stomach convulsions as they tried to persuade me to ‘give it up’ and so on. Try sleeping when you’ve got stomach ache all night or you’re in a dizzy stupor from some bloody psychosomatic drug or something. Headaches? Yeah plenty! – And lost days when I had no recollections of anything.

Then there was all the other therapies; psychotherapy, hypnotherapy, cognitive therapy, immersive therapy! You name it, I must have had it! Talk, talk, talk – babble, babble, babble and then all the stupid, stupid fucking questions, ‘Why d’ you think you do it? Why d’ you want to do it? How do you see yourself, and so on? I was six!! How could I ever answer questions like that – and a thousand other stupid questions, mostly to do with their puerile curiosity I suppose? I didn’t know the answers then and I don’t know much more now!

All I knew was that some days I felt like a girl and some days I felt like a boy! How does that work, how was I supposed to know? Six bloody years I spent in a single room with a bed, a table and chair, a small locker and a basin. Nothing but questions, questions, bloody questions!!! Especially about the flip – flop gender thing; boy, girl, - girl, boy and so on! Oh and glory be. Once a month I got a trip as a treat! Sometimes I didn't even get that! All the usual, stupid places; Chester Zoo or the football at Anfield or Goodison, when all I wanted was to go shopping for lingerie or dresses. I had plenty of bloody boy stuff. Did they listen? Did they hell. I would have loved ballet lessons on my girly days but oh no.

Six years being forced to wear the wrong clothes as often as not on the wrong day. Did I get a choice to dress as a boy or girl as and when I needed? No! Always I had to dress as a boy if I was being taken out on a trip. Or, if not a boy then something androgynous because of what was down there!”

Beverly pointed angrily down to her crotch and actually hit her own stomach violently in what could only be frustrated anger. Ellie winced but kept silent. Beverly’s mood brooked little interruption as she raged on.

“Then, then; God forgive them cos’ I fucking can’t! I reached my twelfth birthday, February 1958. That was it, almost to the bloody day. They came for me; they never gave me the reason though I suppose it was cost or surrender, or something, I’ll never know. Could you imagine if they had to explain to me, what would they have said?

‘Time’s up kid. You can no longer stay here. You haven’t responded to treatment. Psychiatric beds are expensive; we can’t seem to cure you so we’re giving up. We are finding you alternative accommodation.’

The following weekend they told me that they couldn’t find a children’s home for me because of my condition. Children were separated in those days you understand; girl’s homes or boy’s homes and obviously I didn’t fit. I suppose Girls homes couldn’t take me because I had working boy bits, and I actually know that boy’s homes refused me because I heard them talking about me. I was deemed a pervert who might ‘infect’ other boys or ‘turn them queer!’ I don’t know they came to that conclusion, I’ll never know why either, but I remember those were some of the phrases they used.

Even Barnardo’s rejected me! What's their boastful claim? - Never turn a child away!! That was utter bullshit!! They’d take anything else but transgendered kids; - black kids, brown kids, white kids, yellow kids, mongol kids, blind kids; deaf kids, crippled kids even deformed kids – in fact, everything except a bloody little pervert! Having exhausted their hunt for a children's home, they went instead looking for a secure residential unit and they finally found one. It wasn't far from Liverpool either!"

Ellie nodded slowly and Beverly realised that her niece already seemed to know; obviously she must have heard it from Beverly’s sisters. Nevertheless the older woman continued ranting on but in a lower, brittle, almost metallic tone that seemed to enhance the abiding rage within her breast. Silent bitterness caused her to croak as she struggled to keep from tears.

“Yes that’s right, borstal; bloody borstal, a boy’s prison full of sociopaths, psychopaths and just plain evil bastards! They put a twelve-year-old transgendered kid into a fucking prison with anything up to a hundred-and-fifty glands! - You know what I mean! That’s all they were, just dicks looking to dump their shit wherever they could! - sex maniacs, bullies, and criminals - you name it - not much else.
Within days of my being put in there, every cock in the building knew about me and that very first night the shit started. Yes; after that very first night for almost every other night I was ra-“

Beverly’s voice became a strangled whisper that betrayed the rage within her as she struggled to finish the sentence, “raped.”

Ellie simply stared, mouth agape.

“Raped!? But; but the wardens -.”

“Were soon to become m-my pimps.” Beverly finished with a hoarse, choked squeak.

The inevitable silence returned again as Ellie struggled to accept Beverly’s words. Beverly was tearfully staring into some far off place that Ellie realised was some sort of long standing, well used, private mental refuge locked away deep in Beverly's head. For long moments Ellie sat patiently before finally plucking up the courage to interrupt the older girl's cognitions.

“D’ you want to leave it for now?” Ellie asked nervously.

Beverly blinked as though confused for a moment then she shook her head and returned to the present.

“Wha- no, no. I was just thinking, remembering. Memories you know; no I’ll carry on. Where was I?

“About the wardens; you said they were your pimps!”

“Oh! That’s right, oh - yes. To keep order they started a schedule which boy or boys would use me each night and sometimes they even used me themselves. Huh, some order!”

Ellie just stared while wagging her head, words had escaped her – but not Beverly - who continued in a low whisper that almost resembled an angry serpent’s hiss.

“The only nights I got respite was if there was too much blood on the sheets from the previous night. That was another insult, a brutal demonstration of their self-interested greed. If the sheets were covered in blood in the morning it was obvious I was too injured to be used again the following night or sometimes following nights. It was not my health they were concerned about, just my continued availability. Golden goose and all that.

But I still had to wash my own sheets in the morning . . . . Cold water, so the blood stains didn’t set and so that the sheets never went down to the laundry. I don’t know why they were so worried about the boys in the laundry seeing my sheets. All the boys working there had raped me – and seen the state of my sheets if I bled. So who else would have seen the evidence? My sheets were just more shitty proof of the bloody corruption! I don’t suppose any of her fucking majesty’s prison inspectors ever got as far as the laundry anyway, so why they made me wash my own sheets, I don’t know. I suppose they got some perverted ‘power-kick’ out of it. Needless to say, my sheets eventually became pink with constant staining, another symbol of my low girly status.”

“Didn’t you try to resist? Fight back or something?”

Beverly’s jaw dropped in disbelief at Ellie’s naivety.

“Oh come on Ellie! I was an underweight, undernourished, undersized adolescent GIRL! How could I resist. Here; feel these.”

She took Ellie’s fingers and guided them up and down both arms. Each time she stopped she pressed Ellie’s fingers against her arm and through Beverly’s pretty silk blouse; Ellie could feel hard lumps and deformities on the bones.”

“Are those breaks?” Ellie asked incredulously.

Beverly nodded as she explained.

“Yes, every one. I had nine breaks in two-and-a-half years; every long bone in both arms and also my shoulders; you name it - humeri, ulnas, radii, my right scapula and left clavicle. Not to mention my fingers! They used cricket stumps mostly but the scapula was done by a cricket bat. If I tried to resist the rapes they actually broke my bones. I ended up in Chester Royal Infirmary about a dozen times all told - but not once did the doctors ask me what happened. They just looked at the borstal uniform and presumed I was another bad-un, deserving of a good beating. If the warden said I walked into a door or stumbled down the stairs then that was it – I had fallen down stairs!! Who was there to contradict them? Certainly not I!

And why did they take me to Chester!? Why not Liverpool or Sefton General – or even Billinge or Manchester Royal infirmary? Chester’s miles away!

Not once did any of those so-called doctors interrogate me or the wardens further. Twelve visits to A&E in two years! No questions asked just that crude assumption - - - ‘Borstal kid --- wrong-un! Got what he deserved!’ Or where the doctors in Chester in on it, you know; secret gangs. What do they call them today; paedophile rings I believe is the term?!

Resistance!!? Dream on Ellie. That was a sure-fire way to another beating. The only time I resisted was if my arse was still on fire and I wanted another night’s rest from the constant pounding. The bastard wardens would actually look at the stained sheets and debate – yes or no. Then if there was ‘ just a little blood’ on the sheets or staining in my pants I was deemed to be faking it. All that got me was another beating and sometimes broken bones! Dream on Ellie!”

“But you should have ...!” Oh no, I suppose ....”

Ellie trailed lamely off as Beverly gave her a ‘look of ages’ as tears of frustration threatened to burst forth again. She held it but another trance-like fit induced another tense silence

The silence endured as Ellie tried to assimilate it and Beverly recovered her composure. Briefly she dabbed her eyes with a tissue then hesitated with seeming confusion. Ellie sensed Beverly’s turmoil.

“D’ you want another mug of coffee?” She asked her aunt.

“Yes – no; make it a cup of tea. Tea would be nice.”

Ellie busied herself in the little kitchen then returned with the tray.

Beverly sipped tentatively at the delicate porcelain cup, pausing after each sip while Ellie strained to suppress her impatience and rising anger. Eventually Beverly finished the first cup and stood slowly to make her way to the teapot. Ellie bounced out of her seat.

“I’ll get that, you just stay comfortable.”

“I need some air darling, let’s sit outside it’s quite warm and there’s nobody about on a Saturday unless a ship is working cargo. The Speedwell sailed early this morning.”

Ellie decided to make up another tray with teapot, milk and sugar. Beverly smiled and nodded towards the quay wall. There was an old, disused railway siding with large, worn key-stones pinning the platform edge. They sat with the tray between them while their legs dangled over the disused loading bay. They had a clear view of the container berths and the entrance to the harbour whilst the immediate area around them was deserted and offering plenty of privacy. Ellie sensed Beverly scanning surreptitiously to make sure nobody could eves-drop. She finished the second cup before resuming her story after Ellie had gently prompted her.

“How long where you there, when did you get out?”

Beverly shrugged and ‘swanned’ her neck almost apologetically.

“I escaped – eventually; but not before I nearly died at the first attempt.”

“How?” Ellie asked bluntly.

“The first time was immediately after my fourteenth birthday, February - nineteen sixty. The warden came and told me I was having a fourteenth birthday party. I wondered what was going on because they’d never celebrated my thirteenth birthday. My twelfth happened in the clinic but they didn’t celebrate that either. In fact, I’d never celebrated my birthday since I was seven and I was asking myself why. But I soon found out. I was taken away to a house somewhere south of Liverpool; I knew that much because we went through the Mersey Tunnel and that takes you south to Chester and North Wales. Other than that I knew nothing else.

When we arrived at the house, I was the only kid there. The rest were all adults, men and women, - - that’s when I realised it was my birthday - but I was the cake!

That was the night I learned that women could rape little boys as well as men - - - - oh, and dogs!”

“Dogs!” Ellie almost screeched!

Beverly nodded and plunged on as though desperate to get through the ordeal before she broke down.

“Yes dogs. That was there last bit of sport cos' something went seriously wrong. You know dogs have some sort of knot on the ends of their dicks and it swells once the dog is inside the bitch.. Well this dog had a raging hard on and when the animal was made to withdraw it tore me. The knot was too big for my rectum I bled all the way home and all through the next day. They let me recover but it took over a week and things were never right with my arse after that. I still have trouble - - you know, going.”

“Defecating,” Elli finished.

Beverly nodded and pushed on.

That’s when I realised after that I was not going to get out alive if I stayed much longer... That’s a pretty brutal conclusion for a fourteen-year-old kid to arrive at isn’t it? Well I did and so I tried to escape. Once my arse was no longer hurting I broke out through the perimeter fence during a cross-country run. Huh, fat chance!”

“What d’you mean?” Ellie asked but almost afraid to hear the answer.

Miss Beverly explained.

“Nineteen sixty was one of the worst winters of my life. The snow still lay two or three feet deep even in March and when I escaped I was beaten by the cold and snow that very same night. I’d made no proper preparations I’d simply run without a single thought as to how I’d manage outside. I was in shorts vest and gym shoes. How stupid can a kid be or was it - how desperate?

A trucker found me wrapped around an illuminated traffic bollard trying to get warmth from the light. It was a fluorescent light with almost no heat, you know; where the internal illumination is set down below the plastic bollard in the ground. The bollard was as cold as a concrete post. How dumb can a kid get? The trucker took me to a police station and I was too far gone with exposure to try and escape again. The police returned me to the borstal and I was beaten to within an inch. That’s when my scapular and right humerus got broken; they used a cricket bat, not a cricket stump.

So that was Beverly Taff’s first lesson about escape techniques. Get prepared! It’s not the escaping, it’s the survival outside!
After that escapade, they confiscated my shoes and I had to walk bare-foot everywhere. Even when mucking out the pigs and outside in the snow. The frozen clods of shit and mud would cut my feet and not to mention when square-bashing bare-foot on gravel every morning; rain, snow or sunshine. My feet eventually hardened up but it was a couple of months of agony first. Despite my feet, I decided to lie low and wait for summer, From March through to August I didn’t raise a whimper, I just knuckled down and did the best I could not to antagonise anybody. Needless to say the rapes continued un-abated save that my arse bled more easily and frequently, and for longer. There were two advantages to that The blood appeared quicker and served to lubricate my arse earlier thus making it less painful and it also meant I got more frequent and longer rest intervals when the bleeding was too bad.

I had become nothing more than a fuck-doll with a real, lubricated hole. But I didn’t protest or resist, I just planned and prepared for that all important day. Escape!

Consequently, my next escape was more successful. I had prepared properly. I had cut another hole in the perimeter fence behind a thorn bush where it was invisible. The wardens were so bloody lazy and overconfident, they never discovered it. Very early every morning on my punishment runs, I sneaked out and stole an item of girl’s clothing and hid it in a hole by the fence. It only took ten minutes cos there were houses close to the fence by some woods. Once I had a stash of clothes I arranged my escape for a Friday when a particularly nasty warden supervised the cross-country runs. That was the day all the boys had to do a run and the cross-country trail was full of boys running at all different speeds.

Before the run I deliberately made some remark about Fatty Gardiner loud enough for him to hear it. Naturally he gave me a beating but I had anticipated that and rolled with the strikes. More importantly was that he ordered me to do twenty laps instead of ten. He also bruised my leg but that was an extra benefit to me because the other boys saw the bruise and accepted my excuse that I was hurting and couldn’t keep up. On the second lap I dropped further and further back until I was out of sight then I dashed for my escape bid. I dug up the polythene bag with my stolen clothes and shoes then I crawled through the pre-prepared hole I had already cut in the fence. First I crossed a road behind some houses then across some fields and into a wood where I had a chance to change from my running singlet and shorts. I wore a dress at first to make it along a busy road, until I came to a canal. The path was muddy so I changed back into some male jeans and a dark shirt so as not to spoil my dress. The dress was to be an important part of my disguise.

After running for a few miles, I found a bike on the tow-path. That was a god-send and I made it all the way to the Preston branch of the Leeds and Liverpool canal. There I got a puncture so I threw the bike in the canal and carried on running north away from that hell-hole. The further away I got, the safer I felt

Eventually the canal emptied through a lock into a wide estuary and I found myself standing on the south shore of the River Ribble - though I had no idea where I was, I thought it was the border with Scotland; how dumb is that? I changed again into my running shorts and vest then tied my clothes as tight as I could in the polythene bag and plucked up the courage to make a swim for it. Fortunately it was a warm August evening and the river was flowing back upstream towards the spire of Preston Church. The tide was flooding but I didn’t know that. I just slowly waded out until the water was too deep and I had to swim for it. I was lucky, had the tide been ebbing I wouldn’t be here now; just a corpse at the bottom of the Irish Sea I suppose or washed up on some rocks or some beach or something.

Anyway once I started swimming I found myself being steadily swept up the estuary and that gave me hope for the estuary was getting narrower and the other shore was getting closer. I just kept plodding away, with the breast stroke while the bag was between my teeth. As I crept painfully slowly across and up the river, it slowly got darker and eventually I touched the bottom on the other side. The tide was too strong though and I couldn’t keep my feet but I was still being swept towards the lights of Preston.

By the time I made the other shore I was exhausted but fortunately the bank was not steep and it was fairly hard clay. I crawled up to the grassy edge and collapsed exhausted. It was totally dark when I recovered enough to seek shelter. I was cold and hungry but the first thing was getting warm. The polythene bag of clothes had leaked and all my clothes were wet so I was forced to find anywhere where I could simply lie down and rest. As I walked along a lane towards the lights of Preston I came across another canal and broke into a large building that proved to be a derelict warehouse. Inside I located some old sacks in the dark but that was enough, I simply curled up under the sacks and slept like a log, oblivious to the dirt and dust.

In the morning I realised how filthy the place was and quickly gathered my bag of clothes. I was filthy from mud and dirt and whatever the contents of the sacks had been – some sort of large nuts or beans. I didn’t know what they were but the rats had been chewing them, possibly for months or even years. At least the place where I had slept was dry but other parts of the roof were leaking. I learned many years later that the beans had been Carob and they last for years if stored in a dry place.

Outside in the morning light, I found the canal water to be clean so I tried to clean myself. Then I dressed in the frock and girl’s shoes in an attempt to disguise myself. My short hair would have given me away as a boy had it not been from my undersized frame and undernourished body. I looked just like some street urchin from one of Dickens’ novels. I set off down the lane to Preston and soon came to the outskirts. Once on the streets I began to feel conspicuous because it was getting busy and everybody was staring at me. In the end I went into a park until the rush-hour traffic had finished and I saw a mother and child feeding the ducks.

She looked at me and frowned as she asked me if I was okay. I asked her for some of the bread in the bag but she refused me and took her child away. I must have looked a horrible site and I realised that unless I tidied up my appearance I was going to get noticed all the time.
Between the morning rush-hour and the shopping hours, I went into Preston market and stole some fruit from the stall. I wasn’t caught and made away to eat my prize, the first food since the midday lunch in Borstal the previous day. That night I stalked the suburbs and stole some boy’s clothes from the washing lines. The next day I looked more passable and attracted less stares. Now it was a matter of food. I tried the market again but it was too risky, boys get watched more than girls, I suppose the stall holders know where the thieves are likely to be. Eventually I returned to the market and simply sneaked some bread rolls off the front of the stall. It was getting busy as everybody was closing up and clearing the displays. Outside I had a jam bun and some plain bread rolls then I drank from a tap that the stall-holders used to sluice down the market.

For a few days I managed to go un-noticed but eventually the stall holders started to notice me. One was watching me and saw me stealing a pork pie. The next day he was waiting for me and when I thought I’d got away with it, he chased me and dragged me back to his stall where he swore at me and ordered me to stay there while he fetched the owner of the butchers’ stall where I’d stolen the pie. I suppose kids were more obedient in those days and he expected me to stand still all repentant and tearful. The moment he turned his back to fetch the butcher - I was gone. Goodbye Preston hello Manchester. I sneaked a lift on an empty market lorry returning to ‘God knows where’, when I got out I discovered myself in Manchester.

The same things happened there but there were more places to steal so I lasted a couple of weeks before I got noticed. I was caught again but escaped again and then it was Liverpool next. A lorry bound for Liverpool docks.

I stayed a few days but then I recognised somebody who worked at the Borstal and I realised it was not safe to stay there. He didn’t recognise me because I was dressed as a girl but I still felt unsafe. Goodbye Liverpool, hello train, hello Birmingham.

Now it got worse. I was standing on a street in Birmingham city centre one evening, waiting for it to get dark before I made for my ‘hide-away’ for the night. I never visited my sleeping place during the day, there were too many eyes. There were also eyes by night but it’s easier to give them the slip. Well that particular evening I was ‘approached’ by a man who asked me if I was alright. I said I was fine and he said I looked hungry.
Of course I was hungry! I was always bloody hungry – and cold. Girls’ frocks are not the warmest clothes and I still hadn’t found a girl’s coat. I looked like an orphan in a storm and I knew it. He asked if I wanted to go somewhere warm and of course I was immediately suspicious but curious. I asked bluntly if he was looking to shag me and he hesitated uncertainly then looked around before he nodded. Naturally I backed off but I was still curious. I put a steel telephone exchange box between him and me and made sure I had my escape route clear. After looking around to check it wasn’t some sort of trap I felt a little safer. There were very few people around and none up the narrow side-street I intended using as my escape route. He then asked me if I wanted to go somewhere warmer and I asked him if he meant a bed. He nodded and then explained it was a hotel room with a bed.

I was suspicious of going into any building with a stranger but out on the streets I felt safe; much safer; safer even than borstal. On the streets I could escape and run – and believe me, I could run.

I said I would let him fuck me but only in the street behind some builder's rubbish skips and in a dark doorway where nobody could see us. To my mild surprise he agreed, he must have been as desperate for a fuck as I was to eat. Now the big problem was ‘how could I keep my boy bits a secret’. I said he could take me doggy style provided he let me do the guiding. There was to be no fingering from him. I pretended I was still young and tight and I didn’t want him to hurt me so I’d guide it in.

I must have sounded like a street hardened prostitute, - well I certainly knew all the moves and techniques! Anyway, he agreed and that evening, even before dusk had fallen, I turned my first trick. Jerk! Jerk! Twitch, twitch – thank you bitch. Men don’t take long when it’s just a warm wet hole they’re after. More importantly though, he was gentle with me and that surprised me. Then he paid me and then I realised we hadn’t even agreed a price before-hand. Nevertheless, it was money! Five bob, that is twenty five pence in today’s money; yeah, so I was cheap, what did I know?

I learned later that young trannies can charge far more than real girls. Who’d have thought it; I had more worth as a tranny prostitute than fifty percent of the whole human race, the women! Well, I could charge more that is!

Me! – More valuable than an adult woman! Imagine what that does to a kid’s sense of worth!!! Yeah! Twisted values I know but what the hell, I had a sort of inverted, perverted status.

I knew however to make sure I had my money before I disclosed my big secret after he had fucked me. Laughing like a maniac I once again made sure I had an escape then I lifted my frock and tugged down the waist-band of my knickers and taunted him by prancing around waving my dick.

‘Look at that you fucking fool! You’ve just fucked a boy, now you’re a queer!’

His jaw sagged and he tried to call me back but I was gone; money in my purse and food to come later; fish and chips, a huge mug of sweet tea and change to boot. I couldn’t believe my luck!

As I curled up in my hide-away that night my mind kept turning over as I fingered the shilling and sixpence in my purse. Change from the five-bob-fuck after the fish and chips There was easy money to be made.
And I did.”

~o000o~

https://www.google.com/culturalinstitute/asset-viewer/and-wh...

Novel 1 Chapter 10.

Beverly had paused and she shifted somewhat embarrassedly on the edge of the platform. Ellie sat silent, desperately aware that the boss she had grown to respect and love had just made what must have been a brutally painful confession; a confession that would ordinarily have immediately dragged Beverly’s reputation down from the heights of her commercial success and feminist adoration to the very nadir of public condemnation and revulsion.

For long seconds Beverly seemed to be waiting for Ellie’s response, her eyes glistened slightly for it was obvious that the revelation had been fearfully difficult. Ellie didn’t know what to say and it seemed that Beverly was taking Ellie’s tearful silence as some sort of censure. Beverly’s lips pursed resentfully.

“Go on, say it! Say what you’re thinking, ‘a fucking whore!’”

Ellie almost squealed her protest.

“No! No, no, noo! That’s not what I was thinking! No! No!”

“So what then? Your silence shrieks volumes.”

“Well it’s not that; not a whore! Never that! I am still trying to get my head around it but never that; never a whore. It wasn’t your fault. That’s the first thing that came to my head, it wasn’t your fault.”

“I chose to do it. Nobody forced me to do it. It wasn’t as if I was back in Borstal.”

Ellie searched for words that did no harm. She had found them easily but struggled to put them in some way that wouldn’t sound patronising or condescending.

“I think you’re wrong there.”

“How so?” Beverly demanded. “I was free to do as I wanted.”

Ellie slid tactically into inquisition.

“Where you really free? Think about it. What were you free of; hunger, fear, pursuit, cold?

Were you hungry? When had you last eaten? Where were you sleeping? When did you last wash? Where you cold – tired – frightened and God alone knows what else?”

It was Beverly’s turn to fall silent and that had been Ellie’s intention; giving herself time to think, to comment without revealing the personal shock at learning of such a devastating story. Ellie pressed gently.

“Please, tell me, I’ll bet it was all or most of those circumstances and if I’m right then I have to say now that you were forced. Oh I’ll agree that nobody actually took hold of you and physically forced you. There was no single individual, no pimp or pressing drug addiction, no bullying warden or a customer that physically overwhelmed you but – but, well - circumstances forced you, starvation forced you, cold forced you, fear forced you.

You said it yourself, you were terrified of being sent back to the borstal and you actually felt safer on the streets, safer prostituting yourself and exposing yourself to God-alone-knows what. That’s a damming indictment of the care you received. You know that now but you didn’t understand it then. You didn’t know any better. That ghastly existence was all you had known. Those brutal circumstances had stripped you of any measure of judgement. What was it – eight-and-a-half years of total abuse. What was your yardstick to judge your circumstances? Had there ever been any degree of normality in all those bloody - and they were bloody – years?”

Beverly dimpled her jaw as she found herself struggling to agree with Ellie. To agree was almost akin to some sort of confession of her inadequacies - then as a child - and again – now, as she found herself confronting those oft resurrected demons one more painful time. Beverly felt demeaned by the realisation and debated if it was any use carrying on with her life-story. It seemed that every time she revealed one more disgusting detail of her childhood her own self esteem took another battering. It didn’t help that Ellie was seemingly sympathetic, for that kindness only served to reinforce Beverly’s suspicions that Ellie was hiding whatever revulsion she felt. She considered curtailing her narrative and said so.

“I think I’d better stop this. It doesn’t solve anything and I’m sure you’re sickened by it.”

“No don’t stop. Yes I am sickened by it, but truly Beverly, it’s not your fault. You were never to blame then and not to blame now. Age and time does not change that.”

“Doesn’t it?”

“How would it, how could it?”

“Age and time have changed me and I find the Beverly of today judging the Bernard of yesterday.”

Ellie wagged her head thoughtfully.

“That hasn’t changed the moral argument or the ethical circumstances arising from those events. The only changes are that Beverly has acquired yardsticks and how many years has that taken?”

Beverly reflected bitterly then sighed softly.

“A few.”

“Yeah; like forty – or even fifty years, maybe more; that’s a lifetime for some. Please; I’d like you to carry on. It gives me a deeper insight into what makes you tick.”

“Why would you want – or need a deeper insight? Why do you need to know what makes me tick as you put it?”

Ellie found an opportunity to input her own feelings.

“I wondered why you never judge people. Now it’s beginning to make sense. Is it because you always expect the worst from people? Is this why you seem to have such low expectations? I’ve noticed you seem to approach every problem or question by applying the lowest common denominator of expectations; always anticipating the worst possible outcome. You seem surprised when anybody does you a good turn or something turns out well.”

“That’s not fair I give praise where –“

“Oh yes! Certainly you do, but I can’t help noticing that there is usually some underlying expectation of failure or betrayal or even deception in your demeanour towards everybody. You hide it well, oh yes, you hide it very well with your effusive praise and constantly constructive observations you’ve learned the simpler tricks of leadership and made them work for you at a simple, overt level. But deep down you are always expecting things to fail. You think you are deceiving people into not noticing your pessimism, and indeed yes, you do deceive most people; in the short term that is - but I’ve known you long enough now and worked close beside you, long enough and close enough to see through your facade. At first I was puzzled by the underlying cynicism that never seemed to surface but I somehow sensed it.”

Ellie continued as Beverly’s brow wrinkled with uncertainty.

“Friends tell me I’m acutely sensitive to these deeper elements of human relationships but you have puzzled me and intrigued me since I first came to work for you. Now I get my first glimpse of the causes and I’m sickened and astonished simultaneously. So please don’t leave me hanging with unfinished reasons and explanations. Most people – no I correct myself – almost anybody else would have been some sort of depressive failure by now; you are not and that amazes me as well as puzzling me. Please go on! When did it start to go right?”

Beverly sucked her cheeks in thoughtfully and disentwined her tightly crossed legs. It was body language that had already forewarned Ellie that Beverly was intensely stressed. She offered to make some more tea as a tactic to give Beverly time and space to recover her composure. Beverly nodded ‘yes’ and Ellie took the tray with the empty pot and cups to the kitchen while the older woman sat staring across the container park towards the crane and across the harbour.

From the kitchen window Ellie noticed Beverly’s shoulders heaving so she delayed the tea-making and waited until the shoulders stilled. Long minutes passed but Ellie’s tactic worked and she eventually returned to find her boss actually smiling, though there were long black, tell-tale lines of tear stained mascara.

From the tea tray she took a kitchen towel from the several she had ripped from the kitchen roll in anticipation of finding Beverly in tears. Knowingly she proffered it to Beverly who gratefully wiped the smears away. Ellie then dug out some wet-wipes and proffered them. Beverly quickly repaired her make-up while Ellie sipped her tea patiently. Finally Beverly took a deep breath followed by a thankful sip of her tea.

“Better now?” Ellie asked softly.

Beverly nodded.

“Thanks darling. Okay, I’ll go on.”

“You need to, but take your time.”

They continued sitting silently on the platform edge with their legs dangling as they shared the tea-tray between them. Ellie’s digestive biscuit seemed to crunch inordinately loudly as the silence endured. Strangely, even the gulls seemed silent until Ellie realised they were absent, gone to scavenge some distant garbage dump.

Eventually Beverly uncrossed her legs and shifted to get comfortable, but her countenance had a haunted expression as she returned to her life-story.

“The trouble was that first time I did it voluntarily, on the street, in Birmingham, I ended up almost liking it. He proved gentle and thoughtful so once I’d overcome my fear of pain; I managed to briefly suppress any horrors of rape. Once I found myself seemingly unperturbed by choosing voluntarily to get fucked, it seemed that I was at long last in control of my life. He paid up without a murmur and everything seemed good until I suddenly had a flash-back and realised what I’d done.

My delayed reactions were stupid and childish, typical of some naughty child but with the underlying gravity of adult awareness. I wanted to insult him, hurt him, punish him somehow.

That’s when I started prancing in the alleyway and taunting him with my dick. After that first voluntary choice the fucking became easy, - and the money was usually easy provided the guy paid up.”

Ellie stiffened slightly.

“Miss Beverly, will you please not use the ‘eff’ word. I have trouble with it coming from your lips. It sort of – I don’t know, it makes your story sort of seedy; you know even worse than it already is.”

“Could it be worse?” Beverly sighed.

Ellie was hard put to say no because that would have somehow implied revulsion or condemnation but she eventually wagged her head as though words might betray her. A slow wag of her head implied a confused sympathy and even some degree of empathy especially as she averted Beverly’s eyes and stared at the rusty rail track below her feet. Beverly nodded slowly as she added.

“No, you’re right to be at a loss, I don’t suppose it gets lower than a transvestite street whore, a teen-aged prostitute.”

Ellie finally met Beverly’s haunted gaze.

“But it’s still not your fault, your story isn’t seedy; it’s disgusting, yes, but not for the life you led; it was the forces that drove you to lead it. That’s the disgusting part. The fact that those experiences still seem somehow to drive you, motivate you. That is what’s disgraceful, the damage they did. The truth is your story isn't seedy it's inspiring.”

“I’m not sure that those experiences might not still be driving me, I’d hoped I’d left all that behind.”

Ellie felt Beverly was getting bogged down in her own guilt so she tried to move things along.

“How long did you stay in Birmingham?”

“About three weeks I suppose, who was keeping count?”

Ellie nodded and dragged the conversation along.

“So what made you leave – Birmingham that is?”

“The pimps.”

“Pimps?”

“Yeah. Some of the other girls had spotted me working and word soon got around about me. When it became obvious that some of their regular johns were forsaking the regular girls for the under-aged tranny who worked out of a skip up a back alley, the girls got pissed off with me. I was stealing some lucrative trade from them so they put their pimps onto me.”

“What did they do?”

“The pimps or the girls?” Beverly checked.

“The pimps; who else?” Ellie arched her eyebrows for she half knew the answer.

Beverly answered almost dispassionately.

“Oh, the girls tried to catch me by tricking me to join them on their patch but I was far too smart for them. Then one of the pimps tried to force me into one of his stables so I simply ran.

“And?”

“I was too quick for him. I’d been working the area for almost three weeks and I knew the streets like the back of my hand, or more importantly,
I knew all the little alleyways and hidey-holes. I can spot a pimp a mile away. When he and his cronies came to hunt me down, I laid low then waited for the right opportunity. The typical arseholes only knew the streets and places a car could go. A kid on foot can climb and crawl and do all sorts of stuff. Birmingham’s even got old canal tunnels and disused railway tunnels not to mention the sewers. I was out of Birmingham and on my way to Nottingham before they could say Jack-shit!”

“Nottingham?”

“Yeah; just an accident of geography I suppose. I waited outside the fruit market and took advantage of the day’s activities. Next morning I was in Nottingham. Same thing; - same modus-operandi and I was in the groove working the streets within a couple of days. I also discovered a public wash-house where I could strip up and have a bloody good wash. Then it was the same as Birmingham, the working girls noticed me getting more business than them and did not realise I was Trans. I must have been getting better at ‘passing’.”

Beverly let go an ironic snigger.

“Or maybe because I smelt sweeter! Anyway the upshot was the same, their pimps got interested and it was time to go again. Next town was Sheffield courtesy of a John who paid me without any questions. I was already sensing the dangers from the Nottingham pimps and I needed to be moving on. He surprised me when he agreed to give me a lift to Sheffield as payment for services rendered when we got there. I stuck to my side of the bargain and he stuck to his. Who said Yorkshire-men are tight-wads?

Sheffield proved okay, it was a bit dirty with all the steelmaking and stuff but there was plenty of money sloshing around. Lots of steel-men on high wages in those days. I did well for nearly a month until two nosey police women started to get interested in me. The bitches posed as working girls and I didn’t realise they were marks. I was bending down talking into a car when they casually appeared to be walking past. Just as I was reaching down to open the door they snatched me and held me down until two plain-clothes coppers arrived and demanded to know how old I was. I couldn’t hide my adolescent prepubescent appearance. The four of them, two male coppers and the two women coppers; they hauled me off to the police station but I still refused to talk. They checked out my money pouch that I normally kept in my knickers and they couldn’t believe how much money I was carrying. When I still refused to answer their questions they decided to strip search me to see if I was carrying more and to check if I had drugs on me.

Both women coppers started to try to undress me and I kicked like a wild thing so they called their colleagues in. Finally they got me down to my knicks and that’s when they found out. They intended doing a vaginal inspection until they had the big surprise - I was a boy! Well according to their bloody mores I was a boy, you know, usual simian hoots when my bits were exposed for all the bastards to see. Needless to say their attitudes changed and things got rougher. They slapped me around a bit but I still wouldn’t talk. Eventually they gave up after I was given a blanket and subjected to a barrage of questions but I still refused to break. Eventually they brought in a police surgeon who examined me as they held me down and he declared me to be an adolescent boy entering puberty. That’s when things got tricky for them. The surgeon went on to examine me and declared me to be malnourished, but unable to determine my age.

Because of my bad diet from aged twelve in Borstal I was so seriously undersized that they had no idea of my age. That worked in my favour because they now had an under-aged male minor who had been palpably trading as a street prostitute. They didn’t know what to do cos’ there were no social workers in those days. Well not like now.

Eventually a woman came down from some unit in the local hospital. She might have been some sort of psychiatrist person but she was a total waste of space. The questions she put to me were puerile by the standards of my past life and the circumstances of my arrest. I played the ‘little child lost’ card and she fell for it hook, line and sinker. Talk about naive! She must have thought that a ‘motherly’ approach would somehow endear me to her; you know – a kid looking for some sort of mother figure or some such stupid notion. Yeah; that worked, the very word mother made me resentful and after that I said no more. She decided to take me to some place she thought was better than a police cell. I suppose the usual attitude of professional conceit drove her. You know the sort of thing. 'I'm a doctor, don't try to tell me my job' She even refused the police advice to move me under escort because I had been violent.

One good thing she did was to make them give me back my original clothes, less the broken buttons and secured with safety pins. Then she even put my money in her handbag. That’s when I realised they were taking me somewhere else. I presumed it would be another Borstal. The poor bitch had no idea how desperate I was to get away despite the police giving her full warning. I suppose she was used to dealing with traumatised kids being rescued from dysfunctional families.

By now, I was in another league – a frightened but hard-bitten survivor. It was dark by now and when she had to stop at some traffic lights, I snatched her handbag and opened the car door. Outside I rifled through her bag, grabbed my money and threw her handbag back at her while shouting that I wasn’t a thief and it was she who had stolen my money. She was in low heels, I was in daps so I was easily away before she even got around to my side of the car. She recovered her bag from the gutter then jumped in the car and started following me along the street. She passed me and pulled in ahead of me but that was a useless tactic. I simply turned around and fled back the way I’d come.
The last I saw and heard was her calling after me saying she was there to help.

‘Yeah and pigs’ll fly’. I told myself as I clambered over some walls and made away through some gardens.
Free again, I ended up back in Manchester, I’d come full circle.”

“Weren’t you afraid you’d be recognised again?” Ellie asked.

“Not really. I was no longer stealing from shops or market stalls, I was a prozzy, I had a business – a living wage, albeit a dangerous risky one. I ended up on Canal Street and Prince’s Street and quickly learned about the New Union Pub. As far as I knew, it was the first avowedly gay pub in Manchester – in the whole north of England maybe - but certainly Manchester. I started hanging around outside cos I was too young to go in and I struck gold the first night I got started. I was already street-wise and shrewd so getting organised was easy.

I was posing against the stone walling that borders the canal when a guy came out and started looking at me. I was wearing a mini skirt, white, calf-length boots and a vest top – the uniform of the street, oh; and a short fur jacket. It was October after all. My hair was fairly long so he came over to me and stood beside me for several moments before looking me up and down. There were no other street girls near and that made him curious. Canal Street wasn’t the usual red light area in Manchester. In those days it was Trafford Road down by the docks.
I was obviously ‘on the game’ but obviously very young and he was seemingly intrigued - skinny as a whippet and legs like a yearling filly. He edged in for a closer look then asked me. ‘How old are you love?’ ‘Old enough.’ I answered. ‘Old enough for what?’ He replied. ‘Old enough for what you’re lookin’ for.’ I told him and he grinned. Then he asked me how much I charged and he frowned when I told him.
I’d already learned that trans-girls were worth more than ordinary girls and that was the only yardstick of any measure of self worth that I had.”
Beverly paused and chuckled ironically before recommencing.

“My arse was worth more than a girl’s va-ju-ju. How bloody arse-backwards is that? When he asked why I was so expensive I gave it to him straight. I was a tranny and trans-girls were special. I’d just seen him coming out of the only queer’s pub in Manchester where trannies congregated so I was pretty certain he was a queer.”

Ellie grimaced at Beverly’s use of the old term ‘queer’ but realised her boss was being historically chronistic.

“Go on. Did he agree?”

“Yes. We did it on my terms under the old canal bridge right by The New Union pub. What’s more he paid up straight away and asked if I’d be there the next day.”

Ellie raised a questioning eyebrow and Beverly pursed her lips distastefully as she recalled the events.

“I agreed to meet him again. Naturally I was doubly cautious and I waited away from the bridge further up Princess Street, but yes I was there the following day - and every day after that for a fortnight. He was thoughtful, kind, gentle, punctual and honest about paying. I would have been stupid not to, the money was good and regular. Then he came on a Friday and told me quite casually that his ship was sailing and he wouldn’t be there on the Saturday. To put it mildly I was devastated for I thought it would be a long term thing. It was only then that I learned he was an engineer on a ship in Salford Dock. My nice safe meal ticket was disappearing before my very eyes, evaporating like steam from a kettle. There were tears when he left, my tears for he was the first ‘long term’ guy who’d been kind and honest with me. That Friday night I crawled into my hidey-hole under Piccadilly railway arches and pondered my fate. I decided to try my luck at the same place on the Saturday cos’ it had proven successful.

Imagine my suspicion and caution when he turned up on the Saturday totally unexpected. Once I realised it wasn’t some sort of elaborate trap I was delighted to see him and we recommenced our relationship. Then he explained why he had come back.

His ship was what they call a cargo liner – that is a ship that calls at the same ports every voyage. However, on that voyage things had been changed because they had been chosen to carry some big transformers and stuff for several voyages. There were lots of them going to some huge hydro-electric contract in America and his ship would be carrying several each voyage for a year or more. When I found out that he came back to Manchester every three to four months depending on the ice in the great lakes I was all agog and even more interested. The ship was going to have to be modified and that would take several days more in Manchester. That meant I had him for another week so I was ecstatic.
On the Sunday night he brought even more exciting news.”

Beverly paused and Ellie pressed impatiently.

“Well go on! Don’t stop now.”

“Apparently, that morning the Cabin boy had had to pay off because there was some problem in his family. My lover-boy asked me if I wanted a job as replacement cabin-boy. Well; do bears shit in the woods!?”

Ellie nodded as Beverly continued.

“I nearly tore his arm off and he told me he’d run it by some of the other officers.”

“I was only fourteen years and eight months, what did I know about ships or joining the merchant navy. He told me he’d sort stuff out but that we’d have to tell them I was over fifteen. He said the simplest way was to say I was born a year earlier and in those days it was easy. They never asked for birth certificates or any sort of documentation. He smuggled me aboard the ship in Manchester and the ship sailed that night down the ship canal to Manchester. Next day, he took me ashore when we arrived in Liverpool. With the chief steward and the radio officer vouchsafing for me, I was issued with a discharge book and an identity book by the shipping federation. I didn’t even have a medical. They were desperate for boys to join as deck boys or cabin boys or galley boys. The only thing they gave me was an eyesight test which I passed easily.

The following morning I was signed onto the ship’s articles and that afternoon I was washing alleyways, cleaning toilets, making beds, polishing port holes, cleaning cabins and so on; all jobs I’d done in borstal except that the port holes had been windows.

I soon settled into a routine while the ship loaded these huge two hundred ton transformers and generators bound for the USA. Finally we sailed and only then did I learn why I’d been given the job. The officers who had vouchsafed for me were the lead players in a paedophile ring and I was the new toy; - under-aged, under-sized, undernourished with longish light brown to dirty blond hair and bright blue eyes. A perfect toy!

So it was; a few days at sea and the engineer who had got me on-board asked nicely if I wanted to come to bed. How could I refuse? As I saw it he had me by the balls and anyway, we’d been fucking together for two weeks in Manchester so I knew he was gentle, kind and thoughtful. That night I ended up in his bunk where he proved to be true to his nature, that was, kind and gentle, plus his bed was warm and dry and roomy. Officers had better cabins than the crew and wider bunks. I loved it, during the sex he cuddled me gently and stroked me, he didn’t beat me or force me with punches or blows and after the sex – which I must add I actually enjoyed - I slept in his arms. I’d orgasm’ed, and I’d never been happier. I was warm, wanted and willing

And so it began; nearly every night, when the ship was at sea and working watches, I spent the night in a different bunk belonging to one of the paedophiles. What did I know? It was warm and comfortable and at least they never hit me; besides, theirs’ were the first cuddles and hugs I’d ever felt since I was four! The first ever signs of affection. What did I know, what did I care? I was safe in somebody’s arms and being loved. Well, that’s what it felt like to me.”

“You didn’t know any better, it’s still not your fault.” Ellie mistakenly tried to reassure her boss.

Beverly just wagged her head.

“Of course I didn’t know that the fucking was illegal but I knew I was signed on under-age and I knew that was definitely illegally. That would have been enough to keep me quiet but what was there to ‘keep quiet about’. The last thing I would have dreamed of was complaining or reporting anything illegal. For the first time in my life I was happy – never happier and never more loved.

I understand about the illegal sex perfectly well now, but hindsight’s a wonderful thing you know, twenty, twenty vision. Back then I counted them as the only friends I’d ever had. Even now I find it difficult to condemn them out of hand; they were never cruel to me and always gentle.”

“But they were just using you.” Ellie protested.

“Yes!” Beverly replied sharply, “But I didn’t bleed, they weren’t hurting me or injuring me or ¬abusing me. Not like the brutes in the borstal. In there it was all ‘Wham, bam, thank you bitch! Well no, not exactly that even. In borstal they never ever said thank you! At least my shipmates were always kind and gentle. I had found kindness, happiness and acceptance were everything before had been brutality, rejection and fear.”

Ellie shuddered and wagged her head. It was impossible for her to get inside Beverly’s head. ‘How could anal rape, or child rape be kind – or gentle?’ she wondered. ‘Rape was rape!’ However she kept silent. Beverly was about to resume talking.

“We finally arrived in America; everything was strange and exciting for me. Each evening in Philadelphia I could catch a bus right outside the dock gate and travel directly into town. I walked around the city just looking at the buildings and shops that stayed open until long after the old British system of five o’clock closing. I saw the liberty bell and thought of my own liberty, my own independence. Believe me those were some very mixed emotions. I was looking at the bell when some coppers or guards or some such security guys were watching me, probably because of my seeming youth and long hair. It was just before sunset and they were probably wondering what such a young, effeminate kid was doing staring at the bell so late. Fortunately my old streetwise ways alerted me to their surveillance and I left immediately. A bus back to the dock gates then the safety of the ship.

That same street canniness enabled me to also avoid tricky areas and dangerous places as I kept to the busy city centre. American cities seemed much like British cities except for the sky-scrapers and crime. One of the older, able seamen got robbed but he was alone and drunk outside a bar in a bad part of town.

In Philadelphia the ship was two weeks unloading the special lifts but as a cabin boy I was not involved with cargo work. I would finish work at six and the nights were mine to do as I pleased. Once the bosun asked how it was I didn’t get attacked but I just told him I was careful and too young to drink so I didn’t get caught by muggers outside bars and stuff. He simply smiled and walked away wagging his head.

The truth was I was exceptionally street wise and finely attuned to any circumstances or potentials that might precipitate an attack. I was also quick to take early avoiding action if something looked risky or ‘unusual’ further down the street. I would always walk near the kerbside so as to avoid being surprised from alleyways or dark doorways whilst simultaneously watching for any unusual vehicle approaches. There are a dozen ways a street-wise kid employs almost unconsciously to avoid traps and muggings. Besides all the street savvy I could also run like a whippet.
Finally we finished the heavy lifts and resumed our normal trading voyage via New York, Boston and Halifax Nova Scotia, then on to the great lakes; Toronto, Montreal, Detroit, Chicago and so on. Most of these ports were only four or five day stops. I didn’t go ashore every night because my wages just didn’t support it, plus I was saving up though God alone knew what for. It was just the idea that I could save, the very thought that I had money to call my own and that it was safe on the ship. I didn’t have to hide it about my body or even in my own desk. The money was ‘on account’ and that felt reassuring.

Eventually the ship had completed its run of ports. We were chased out of the lakes by the encroaching ice and we were occasionally escorted in a convoy by an ice-breaker as we finally left the St Lawrence. There was a brief call into St John’s Newfoundland then across the Atlantic back to Britain; that was Liverpool and Manchester again.

All that time up the lakes I shared a different bunk with one or another of my newfound friends. One of the nicest experiences was looking out of the cabin porthole at the ice and snow going past while I was snuggled up safe and warm cuddled in the arms of one of the paedophiles. What did I know? What did I care? I was safe, warm and loved.

All that changed when we were just a day out of Canada and just cleared the Grand Banks. The ship got one of its frequent storm warnings and the captain turned some of the senior deck-crew out to make sure everything was battened down. The North Atlantic is a cruel ocean and there’s nowhere to run to if things go wrong. Unlike the North Pacific where there’s a chain of the Aleutian Islands to duck behind all the way across no matter if you’re crossing eastwards or westwards.

Anyway, back to that first voyage. I’d just had my fifteenth birthday but of course I didn’t celebrate it. The last thing I wanted was to alert anybody about my being under-aged. On that date in late February, somewhere after passing Quebec on the St Lawrence, I became technically legal at least as far as my age was concerned though my seaman’s books were still technically illegal. That March night as we cleared the grand banks, we had the storm warning; as the ship was heading back east for Britain. I was cuddled up with the chief steward safe from all the gales and snow.

It was three o’clock in the morning when the chief steward gently tapped my shoulder and suggested I return to my own bed so as to avoid being caught by the changing watchkeepers at four a.m. Unfortunately, the chief mate had joined the second mate, the carpenter and the bosun to debrief after checking that everything was battened down for the storm.

All of them were gathered whispering at the main stairwell so as not to waken any passengers or stewards and I emerged out of the Chief Steward’s cabin straight into them. As I turned from closing the steward’s door softly so as not to wake anybody I blundered straight into the second mate. The chief mate had seen me emerge from the cabin and he immediately grabbed me by the shoulder.

“Wait there!” He whispered, “I’ll talk with you shortly.”

"I was caught bang to rights, no excuses, no explanations and no hope of escaping from this one. Two senior officers and two petty officers had seen me and stopped me.

They continued discussing what precautions they had taken to make sure the ship was battened down for the storm then the chief mate turned to me."

“What were you doing in the steward’s cabin?”

I tried lying but what was the use? It was obvious what had been happening and the mate’s next question confirmed it.

“Has he been fucking you?”

I stared at the floor and nodded. There was no way I could deny it; I was in the deepest shit of my life. The mate just swore and thumped my shoulder.

“Go to your bloody cabin. The old man will have to sort this out in the morning.”

Beverly chuckled briefly as she recalled the events then resumed talking.

“Well the next morning at ten-thirty sharp I was up in the old man’s office to meet with my disaster. The old man looked at me and plunged straight in; no formalities, no questions to check if I was okay, just straight direct questions.”

“Did he fuck you boy?”

I mumbled “Yes sir.”

He wagged his head and sighed.

“Aye, we’ve suspected this for some time. D’ you like him fucking you?”

“Dunno’ sir.”

“What d’ you mean you don’t know. Are you a queer or was he making you do it?”

I had to think long and hard. It was no use lying because I was up to my neck in shit every which way – no escape. The old man just looked at me for long moments. Then he repeated.

“Well you must know if you like it boy. Did he force you to do it? Did he tell you you’d lose your job if you refused?”

“No sir; well not exactly but I, well I thought it was what I had to do.”

He stared at me trying to understand what I was alluding to but my meaning escaped him so he asked me bluntly again.

“Are you a queer?”

I honestly didn’t know. He sat watching me and occasionally wagging his head then he seemed to realise what turmoil I was going through and he spoke softly.

“There’s no need to be afraid boy. Just tell me if you felt obliged to sleep with him.”

“I dunno' what you mean sir, what’s obliged?”

He took a deep breath and explained.

“Did you feel you had to sleep with him like some sort of duty?”

“A bit sir – yes.”

He took another deep breath.

“Now we’re getting somewhere. So again, I’ll ask you do you like doing it.”

“D’ you mean the fucking bit sir?”

He frowned at me for it was obvious my vocabulary had no other word for sexual intercourse. Realising this, he used the same language to avoid confusion.

“Yes, that’s exactly what I mean. Did you like his cock in your arse? I presume it was his cock in your arse and not the other way around.”

“No sir. He fucked me.”

“So one more time, this is like pulling bloody teeth; did you like it?”

“I liked cuddling sir.”

Once more the old man paused. He was becoming more thoughtful as he began to piece things together.

“So you like cuddling up to him but not the fucking bit.”

“It was my turn to pause but eventually, I realised that was pretty much how it was. It was nice sharing a bed and cuddling him while the fucking part seemed like a small price to pay. However, the fucking was okay because they were gentle and didn’t rip my rectum plus when his cock pressed my prostate it sometimes felt like coming. I told him about his ‘cock hitting my button’ and even the old man did not understand until I explained the feeling and the ejaculation. Once he understood this, he nodded knowingly. Then he came to a clever decision.”

“Right boy. You obviously can’t stay in the catering department if that man is raping you. I’m moving you sideways to the deck department and you can work as a deck boy until we get to Liverpool. You’ll be under the orders of the first mate Mr Roberts and the bosun. The bosun will explain your duties and each night you’ll sleep in the ships hospital. I’ll personally lock you in.”

Ellie gasped slightly.

“What you were locked in each night? What if there was an emergency? What if the ship was sinking?”

“Ships don’t sink that quickly. They’d have got me out. The hospital is only one deck below the captain’s cabin. Anyway, who was I to question his authority – captain next to God and all that? The upshot was that I worked as a deck-boy for the remaining eight days of the voyage and found the deck crew to be a hard-working, decent bunch of lads. They even teased me by giving me the nick-name ‘Spider’ when I rushed around like a jumping spider because I was so desperate to please the bosun and the deck crew. No message was too difficult, no job too hard, no orders were ever disobeyed and the bosun noticed this. The bosun was like a father to me, a proper father, you know stern but fair.”

“So what happened when you got to Liverpool?” Ellie pressed.

“Well I suppose the airwaves were buzzing during the whole time while we were returning across the Atlantic. Eleven days later, the ship docked in Liverpool precisely at six a.m., right on schedule. After all the usual procedures had been completed by ten a.m., you know, customs-clearance, immigration, paying off etcetera; a meeting was convened in the captain’s office. Straight after ‘coffee’ at eleven o’clock, I was taken by the bosun from the locked hospital to the captain’s office. There I was made to stand before a whole panel of people. The captain sat in the middle, to his right sat a police superintendent from the Liverpool division of Lancashire County Police, next to him sat a sergeant from the Liverpool Docks Police and at the end of the table sat the registrar general for shipping and seamen, Liverpool section.

To the Captain’s left sat my nemesis Fatty Gardiner the borstal warden who’d been my worst enemy and abuser in Borstal. Next to him sat Governor Davies the big boss during my life in Borstal. Finally, right at the end sat the Port Health officer, a lady doctor.
I felt like that young royalist boy being arraigned before the Puritans in the famous picture ‘And When Did You Last See Your Father?’

https://www.google.com/culturalinstitute/asset-viewer/and-wh...

After making me stand before the panel, the bosun left. I felt the bosun had been my only friend and now I stood utterly alone. The captain started the inquiry by simply asking me -.

“Right boy; from the beginning when you joined the ship.”

It was utterly useless trying to lie to cover up. They knew everything and they had four witnesses so I gave up all attempts to lie and started from the beginning.

“I joined the ship in October sir. I –“

“He’s lying captain!” Fatty Gardiner declared loudly.

I stood utterly defeated. I had only uttered a few words and already I was being called a liar! Even when I was telling the truth. It was hopeless, I stood no chance and didn’t expect to. I fell silent waiting for the axe to fall and the silence became oppressive. I wanted to shout and swear at Gardiner but that would have only made my situation worse; especially when I was taken back to Borstal. I just stayed dumb; stupidly, fearfully dumb. There was nothing I could say. I’d only mentioned October and I was already being called a liar.

As I stood there almost in tears the captain leaned forward and turned to face Fatty Gardiner before speaking softly.

“So why do you say the boy is lying Mr Gardiner?”

Fatty Gardiner leant forward with all the arrogance and confidence of somebody with total power.

“He absconded from Borstal in August Captain, he must have joined your ship in August or soon after.”

I wanted to shout and scream I was nowhere near the ship in August but I was too terrified to speak. I’d have to reveal what I’d really been doing and that would have made it far worse – at least in my eyes it would. Then the captain did something unexpected. He reached out and opened the large book, the ships’ articles of agreement before speaking again to Gardiner while he gently tapped the opened page.

“Mr Gardiner; if that boy joined this ship in August of nineteen sixty then he must have either swum across the Atlantic or flown over it. Both I believe would have been equally impossible for a boy of fourteen. My ship Mr Gardiner, was in New York, Boston, Halifax Nova Scotia and Quebec during August of last year. Furthermore, I happen to know with total certainty that the boy signed on to this ship’s crew right here at this very table and in this very book in October. I know because I signed him on. Look here, that’s his signature – well his name at least, printed right there. - And THAT Mr Gardiner; is MY signature.”

He tapped the bottom of the page quite hard before continuing.

"Now Mr Gardiner, I can say with certainty that so far, the boy has NOT lied and he DID join this ship in October. I will therefore respectfully ask you not to interrupt the boy again.”

He turned to me as I stood bewildered by events and wondering. ‘Had somebody just stood up for me or was there a deeper hole being dug, a bigger trap?’ I wondered.

My silence was self explanatory, my paranoia self evident so the captain spoke more softly.

“Right boy, from the beginning when you joined the ship in October; everything mind, everything you can remember.”

Gradually I found my voice and gave it to him chapter and verse; everything I could remember, names, dates, locations, everything. I was too frightened to tell any lies. It was over by twelve o’clock, I’d tried to tell everything I could remember and the silence around the table frightened me. The captain told me to stand outside his office. I left both relieved and yet terrified about what was being decided. As I stood like some naughty schoolboy outside in the corridor, the bosun reappeared and paused before going into the office.

“Bloody Hell Spider, you’ve stirred up a right hornet’s nest. The captain’s just been on the phone to me and he’s not very happy. What the hell’s been going on?”

I just stood there trembling with fear and ignorance.

“I dunno Bos’, I dunno.”

He went in and all I could hear were mumblings through the door, then, as the noise levels rose. I could definitely hear the Bosun arguing with Fatty Gardiner. It became something of a shouting match until the captain called them to order and the bosun stormed out past me saying he was getting Mr Roberts the mate. I was wetting myself and stood petrified as the bosun returned with the first mate. Mr Roberts the mate turned to look at me and repeated the bosun’s question.

“Good God Spider what on earth have you started – d’ you want to pee lad?”

I nodded and the bosun took me to the lavatory while the mate went inside.

We returned to wait outside in the alleyway and we both heard the same sort of thing. Mr Roberts spoke quietly then Fatty Gardiner started arguing again then things got heated again. This time however, Mr Roberts was more professional than the bosun and eventually the meeting returned to calm. Mr Roberts came out and told me to go back in. But before I went in he told me I should be okay. I had no idea what he meant by that and I went in still frightened as before. The Captain addressed me again but this time by my nick-name. It was probably to calm me down but I did not pick up on the fact, I was still too frightened. The question he asked didn’t help either.

“Right Spider, the Superintendent and Governor Davies want to know what you were doing between August when you absconded from borstal, and October when you joined the ship.”

I started to tremble again and was almost sick with fear. The lady doctor picked up on this and stopped the meeting. She took me outside and gave me a drink of water as I told her I was too frightened to say. She asked me to tell her privately and she would decide if it was too bad to say. I gave her a brief rundown and she frowned but told me I was not entirely to blame. She advised me to be brave and tell everything because she felt the captain was on my side. She explained that his use of my nick-name indicated that. I took some more water and returned to the meeting. The doctor advised everybody not to be confrontational, whatever that meant, and to be patient as I was approaching a state of shock through fear. The captain nodded and looked pointedly at Fatty Gardiner but I was too afraid to look at Gardiner or Governor Davies.

“Are you ready to tell us now Spider?” The captain asked.

I realised then that he had used my nick-name again and remembered what the doctor had said, Captain Mac was on my side. I nodded and started once again to give chapter and verse what I told you earlier, the escape, the stealing from clothes lines and shop-lifting, the prostitution and so on, everything. I finished by describing how I came to join the ship and the registrar was very interested to learn how I came by my illegal seaman’s discharge book and identity card. When I finished there was a long silence before the captain called a break for lunch.”
Here Beverly paused and suggested going for lunch. Ellie agreed and they retired to the yacht club. Even there, Ellie found herself struggling to assimilate the wealth and luxury of the yacht club with the story of deprivation and fear her aunt was revealing. They were some of the
biggest extremes of human existence she could have dreamed of, at least for an advanced, western civilisation. The meal passed in large periods of silence as Ellie tried to digest what she had learned so far. Beverly was not disposed to spoil her lunch recounting memories that still hurt. Instead they returned to Beverly’s office after lunch then resumed their previous location sitting on the derelict freight platform where the direct noon-day sunlight had warmed the flagstones. Once seated Ellie looked expectantly at her newly discovered aunt and gave a tentative smile of encouragement. Beverly gave a soft chuckle and remarked.

“There’s no need to be nervous girl. From now on the story is a good one, mostly about climbing out of the shit and moving on.”

“So what happened next, when you returned from Lunch?”

Beverly nodded and her brief smile faded.

“Because the ship’s deck crew were Scousers to a man, they had all taken shore leave and gone to their homes, there were no dinner duties for me that lunch time. I’d was sent to eat in the petty officer’s mess, you know, the Bosun, the Carpenter, the Chief cook, Second cook and the Engine-room storekeeper. That’s like the Sergeant’s mess in the Army and often deemed to be one of the best places in the army. On a merchant ship however, it’s a very small intimate place, - usually only four or five older guys and a pretty relaxed intimate atmosphere. They grinned and teased me a bit when I turned up nervously at their door but the cook told me there was plenty of food in the galley and to help myself.

‘You need feedin’ up lad, yer’ all skin an’ bone’, - and in truth I was, despite just over four months of plentiful, good food I was still an undersized runt. I was still eating my meal when I was summoned back to the inquiry the Bosun took it upon himself to escort me back upstairs for he could see I was almost sick with worry. I went inside with the Bosun at my shoulder but now, somehow, it felt like he was somebody protecting me, not guarding me. The captain looked up at the bosun and nodded before turning to me.

“D’you want the bosun to stay with you?”

“Please sir, is that okay?”

He looked up at the Bosun who declared there was nothing happening until three o’clock when the floating crane was scheduled to come alongside. The Captain nodded and turned to me again.

“Right Spider, the Superintendant of police and I want to know why you were sent to Borstal, what had you done wrong and which court sent you?”

“I replied with the only facts I knew. ‘I was a pervert sir, a- a transvestite – a danger’ - .”

The captain frowned and asked me to explain further but there was not much more I could tell.

“A- a transvestite sir, I wear girl’s clothes. They said I was danger to other children and had to be locked up; a secure residential facility.”

Ellie frowned and asked.

“But that would just have been a children’s home surely?”

Beverly smiled ironically.

“Not in those days. This was nineteen fifty eight remember; I was twelve and children’s homes were separated into Boys or Girls. The powers that be had decided I was neither a girl because I still had the ‘boy bits’ and I would be a danger to vulnerable girls; but nor was I a normal boy. I was a transvestite and therefore deemed to be a queer. I might also pervert other boys so they had to find me somewhere secure and safe.”

“Yes you said that earlier, go on.” Ellie pressed.

“I told the captain this; about my being a transvestite and he turned to the superintendant.”

“Transvestism’s not a crime is it Superintendant?”

The copper wagged his head then explained.

“Not as such but if there’s an incident we usually have to arrest them on the grounds of ‘Behaviour likely to cause a breach of the police.’ This is usually for their own protection. But you’re right Captain; transvestism is not illegal per se’. The boy would not have broken any law just by wearing girl’s clothes.”

“This little gem went straight over my head cos’ I was too stressed but the captain picked up on it and he turned to me again.”

“You heard the superintendent Spider. Wearing girl’s clothes is not illegal so you must have done something serious to be sent to borstal.

Where did you go to court?”

“I just stared stupidly at the captain. I had no idea what he meant cos I had never been near a courtroom. I just wagged my head and mumbled. ‘Dunno sir, I dunno’.”

“Oh come on now boy, you must remember the court case, where did you go to court? So far lad, you’ve appeared to tell the truth so don’t spoil it now by lying about your offences. Where did you go to court? It wouldn’t necessarily have been a judge with a red gown and wig, more likely just a man or a panel of three men or women in normal clothes. In what town where you arrested?”

“I continued staring stupidly because nothing made sense to me. I just repeated that I didn’t know because frankly; I had no idea what this was all about. I also told them I had never been arrested. I knew this for certain because I was secretly proud that I was never caught after my second escape from borstal. The captain then turned to Governor Davies and asked. ‘What do his case notes show, what court, what crime?’

"Davies just replied.”

“He was sent to us because he was deemed a danger to society – an incurable pervert. That’s what the psychiatric report said.”

Then the Superintendent interrupted again. ‘But what did his court hearing say? What was the finding?’
Governor Davies fell silent. Apparently he had no court notes in the file he’d brought and he said he’d have to find them. The captain turned to the superintendent and declared. ‘Unless there’s a court order I don’t see that I have to release the boy from the ship’s articles. He’s only fifteen and technically I’m ‘Loco in parentis.’

The superintendent didn’t seem sure and the captain took the bull by the horns as he turned again to Governor Davies. ‘Unless you show me the court order sentencing the boy to your prison, I don’t see any cause to release the boy to your custody. From what the boy’s told me I don’t think it would be safe to send him back and at the moment he’s signed on to my ship as deck boy. I’m sure if I’m prepared to keep him here then his books can be put in order.’ He turned to the registrar who sort of nodded uncertainly for it was obvious my case was exceptional. So the captain sat back and boldly declared.

‘Until I see the court order sentencing the boy to Borstal, I’m keeping the boy on the ship. Both my bosun and my chief officer Mr Roberts have spoken highly of the boy and you’ve all heard them. No. The boy stays. Bos’ take the lad with you and let him work with you on deck.’

"And that was that.” Beverly finished. “After that it was all paperwork and follow-ups but I was back on deck at three pm helping the Bosun secure the floating crane alongside our ship.

The rest of that afternoon was spent discharging the cargo we had freighted from America. The large floating crane would remain idle until the heavy lifts arrived by road so the crane crew let me climb down to have a look at their barge because they wouldn’t be needed until after we had completed discharge. The ship wasn’t going up to Manchester yet because of the heavy lifts so we had nearly a fortnight to spend in Liverpool waiting for all the transformers and stuff to be hauled up from Birmingham by road. I was just climbing back up the rope ladder from the barge when the bosun called to me.

‘Spider! If you’re going ashore tonight, you’d better go and see the second mate for your sub on your wages. He’ll be closing up the safe in a minute.'

I dashed up just in time to catch him before he locked up the ships safe in the Captain’s office. Then after dinner I went ashore with money in my pocket and wandered around Liverpool until about nine o’clock I still remember the feeling of joy I had when I was walking back to the ship. I was free, I was legal, I had money in my pocket and as I passed the security guard on the gate I was able to tell him the name of my ship – my legal home. Never could a fifteen-year-old kid have been happier.”

Ellie smiled and finished.

“So that was that.”

“More or less there were a few bits and bobs but that’s the jist of the story.”

“Were your abusers ever punished?”

Beverly’s face clouded as she replied. “Not all of them, not the worst ones, not the bastards in the Borstal.”

“How come.” Ellie pressed.

Beverly’s expression wrinkled with suppressed anger.

“It’s the law. You can’t sue the crown. What goes in prison, stays in prison.”

“But you weren’t legally in prison.” Ellie protested.

“Exactly I was not registered legally as a prisoner but I was in prison. How d’you think I was allowed to remain on the ship. Gardiner and Davies couldn’t order my re-arrest cos’ I had never been arrested or even tried. Her majesty’s prison service didn’t ask questions but the courts might have if my case had been referred to them.

When I was put in the Borstal then I became a guest of her majesty and that’s that. I had no idea about appeals or referrals and there were no court records or lawyers to forward an appeal. If there’s no official record then that’s it – On paper I suppose I wasn’t technically there but I know I bloody was. Don’t think I haven’t tried to object. The records must have been altered or destroyed soon after those bastards realised there was some sort of screw-up or something illegal had taken place. Believe me I’ve tried but no go. No records no case to answer. Ask yourself how many times people have tried to make claims for medical negligence then vital records just seem to disappear. Well it’s the same with other government organisations, the police, the courts, the prisons, local authorities – you name it and suddenly vital records or bits of information just seem to disappear. The proof is simple, try and find any other records for Beverly Taff or Bernard Holst; schools, children’s homes, borstals, hospitals – anywhere! There’s nothing. It’s as if I was an illegal immigrant.

I suppose that’s why the paedophile ring on the ship unknowingly got away with creating my illegal seaman’s identity and discharge books. They were desperate to sign me on and the initial searches hadn’t thrown up my birth certificate or any school records. By the time the registrar of shipping had got suspicious I was halfway across the Atlantic. When the captain started his investigations that’s when the alarm bells started ringing. My file lying stashed away in some cupboard or filing cabinet, all forgotten about until Captain Mac reported stuff to the police on our way back to Liverpool.

That’s why so many people were at the inquiry. I can only suppose that too many questions were being asked, too many cans of worms being opened, too many people with too much to lose. That’s how the establishment works. Everybody covers everybody-else’s backs. There was no come back and Captain Mac simply let me stay on the ship. He apparently had a good kid as a deck boy and his officers were happy with me as a worker. I was lucky, those three men, Captain Mac, Mr Roberts and the Bosun were decent guys. They treated me as a young boy should have been treated, hard but fair. Yes I got the odd clip around the ear if I was cheeky or told off if I did something stupid but it was for good reasons –

‘Don’t stand in the bloody coil boy, when the wire runs you’ll get cut to pieces, -Slap!’

‘Don’t stand there boy, the boom will crush you when it’s lowered!’ - Slap!

‘Gerr’out of the way you silly little bugger; look! – Slap!’

And when I looked there would invariably have been some deadly danger that I had just been dragged or knocked from. Yeah the slaps were for my own protection and instruction. Honest lessons from honest men. I kid can accept those and in the mess-room later they would laugh about it but the warnings were genuine and sincere. I was genuinely accepted into the company of honest, decent men; - rough men, tough men, fair men. Slowly I became a man; slowly I gained my own self respect and self worth. Slowly, I dug myself out of the shit that had been my early life. But always; always deep down there was that girl, that woman crying to escape.”

Ellie smiled but the thought still irked her.

“And they were never punished – the abusers that is?”

“I said not all of them were; the ones on the ship were arrested but I don’t know the outcome and I didn’t care I was free and gone; out of it; safe on a ship thousands of miles away in another continent. There’s a bit more to tell but it wasn’t significant.”

“Go on. I want to know all of it. I want my Nan, your Mum to know. She should know, she should be made to say sorry!”

Beverly looked up and laughed cynically.

“Jesus Ellie. Why would I ever want to tell her, I’m surprised she’s alive? If I met her I’d probably want to attack her; kill her even. I’m not exactly a balanced reasonable person you know. There still dark stuff going on, especially where my family are concerned. On reflection I
don’t think I want to meet them, no Ellie, I don’t think I could handle that, I don’t see why I should. There’s nothing there, nothing for me down that road, thanks but no thanks.

Anyway, I don’t want to be reminded of the rejection. Ten years of rejection as a child is bad enough but fifty years rejection as girl and woman, no I don’t want that. They never came looking for me, I won’t come to them. What have they got to offer me? I’m a wealthy, independent woman; a ship-owner with my own means and my own life. What have they got that I would want? Sorry Ellie, there’s some things that can’t be fixed, my past is one of them.”

“But I’m part of your family, your blood, your past.” Ellie protested.

“Yeah. Well don’t push it girl. You’re doing all right up to now. Don’t try and resurrect the dead.”

“But they’re not dead.”

“They are to me. Let’s leave it there. I’ll tell you the remaining bits of my story then we’ll call it a day.”

Ellie’s disappointment was readily apparent in her expression but Beverly was not to be moved. As if to reflect their mood, clouds had covered the sun and it became chilly.

“Let’s go inside. We’ll finish the rest of the story in the office, come on.”

As they made yet another a pot of tea in the kitchenette Beverly related the final details.

“The ship spent twelve days in Liverpool, first discharging her cargo then loading the heavy lifts plus other stuff. I was working with the bosun passing wires over the big transformers and then the riggers would secure them with bottle screws and chains. One morning, while I was scampering on top of the huge drum shaped generator units Mr Roberts called down to the bosun to send me up to his office.”
“Go on Spider, I’ll finish off here, you go and see what he wants.”

“Like I always did, I scampered over the load and skipped up the companion-ladders to the deck where the mate had his cabin and office. I stepped in to meet two ladies in black suits and white blouses, Mr Roberts introduced them.”

“These ladies are called public notararys Spider. They are here to witness your testimony for the courts.”

“This went completely over my head as I stared dumbstruck at the pad of lined paper. Mr Roberts had placed the pad, a ball point pen, a pencil a ruler and a rubber all neatly laid out on his desk and he was offering me one of the chairs. I slumped into the chair and continued staring at the paper until he asked.

‘What’s wrong spider? You only have to write down everything you told the captain yesterday and if you can remember anything more, write that as well.’ You’re not in any trouble any more. Everything is known and you only have to write down the truth, it’s okay, what’s wrong!?’

"Finally I slumped across the desk, let out a wail then rolled out of the chair and sat curled up in the corner of his office while continuing to ball my eyes out. The women just stared as Mr Roberts bent down trying to repeat his assurances."

‘It’s all right Spider. I’ve told you you’re not in trouble! All you have to do is write down in your own words what you told the inquiry.’

Then and only then could I look up still crying to tell him and the two women. - It’s not that chief. I can’t read or write.”

~oo000oo~

1 Novel Chapter 11

Ellie sat in disbelief at Beverly’s revelation.

“What! You actually couldn’t read or write! But how did you – I mean, you’re a millionaire, you own ships, you – “

Beverly smiled an ironic smile as she curled up on the kitchenette sofa with her legs tucked under her. Ellie finished making the tea then turned from the kitchenette bar with the tea tray in her hands and placed them on the little occasional table before sitting opposite her aunt and curling up in the wide arm-chair. Beverly stared at the floor as she confirmed what was perhaps one of the most devastating elements of her adolescent years.

“It’s true though. I was functionally illiterate I could neither read, nor write nor do maths. I could hardly count to twenty and I could only print my name in none-cursive script. I’ll come to how I eventually learned later. But at that time, in Mr Roberts’s office, I reached my lowest ebb and it broke me. My biggest weakness was exposed, my worst handicap. I felt stupid, vulnerable and worst of all terrified I’d lose my job. I lay curled up in the corner for several minutes and crying until eventually Mr Roberts just lifted me back into the chair and stared at me with embarrassment. It cannot have been easy for a thirty-year-old man to get so intimate with a fifteen-year-old sexual deviant. After lifting my head off the desk he shrugged helplessly and turned to the two ‘crows’."

‘Can either of you two ladies take it down if the boy dictates?’

"They wagged their heads stating they were recording officers for the courts and unable to constructively contribute to the hearings. They also pointed out that Mr Roberts was ineligible too because of his part in discovering the crimes. He was in fact a material witness and he had already written his account. He wagged his head and phoned up to the captain. After some discussion a solution was reached.

The same lady doctor from the inquiry, that is the port Health officer, was scheduled to take me up to the seaman’s clinic that afternoon for health checks. On being asked over the phone, she agreed to come down earlier and act as a scribe. She appeared within half an hour and we resumed the session. I sat beside her as she wrote down everything I said.

After about half an hour or so the two barristers, the ‘crows’ as I thought of them, started to separate as one went into the corridor then returned to relieve the other. I was suspicious about why they were doing this and they made me more nervous. I was already stressed enough but the doctor quickly picked up on my nervousness and stopped proceedings.

She had a chat with the ‘crows’ and discovered that they were severely upset by what they were hearing and they had to spell each other. The doctor and Mr Roberts had heard it all before so they were somewhat inured to it but it shows how low I’d sunk in that I hadn’t even thought my story abnormal. Here were two hardened barristers who must have heard awful things in court and yet my story reduced them to tears. The doctor explained all this to me and reassured me that nothing sinister was going on behind my back. Eventually the session was complete. All of them endorsed the statement and I signed it with my crude none-cursive printed name. Each of the adults looked askance with various expressions of – well, I don’t know what they really felt. Was it despair or sympathy, anger or disgust, or what? I couldn’t tell.

They were shocked I suppose that in nineteen-sixty-one, a fifteen-year-old British kid who they already knew to be quick-witted and able, was functionally illiterate.

Anyway the barristers took my statement and joined Mr Roberts with the doctor for lunch. The chief officer normally ate in the captain’s saloon so they joined him and Captain Mac while I joined the bosun and the carpenter in the petty officer’s mess. As I ate, the message came down that I was to clean myself up after lunch as I was going with the doctor to the seaman's clinic that afternoon.

And so it was, by three pm I was brought to the Gordon Smith Seaman’s Institute in Paradise Street. Basically, all they did was take samples of all my bodily fluids; blood, sputum, urine then they weighed me and ran a general health check over me before giving me yet another eye-sight test. Finally they took me back to the ship and I was in time for the early dinner the ship provided in port. This was around five thirty because there were no passengers. At sea, dinner was from six until eight to cater for the twelve passengers we carried. Firstly, as I always did, I served the petty officers their food then I filled my face with the remains from the galley and there was always plenty. The chief cook always saw to that and I was now eating well.

That night I did not go ashore but I joined the bosun in the petty-officers day room and confirmed to the bosun and the carpenter that I couldn’t read or write. Mr Roberts had obviously forewarned the bosun and, like Mr Roberts, he was also shocked. The very next day was a Saturday and therefore the heavy lift crane was idle. No cargo was being worked so the bosun personally took me up to the Seaman’s Mission and explained to the padre that I was illiterate. They didn’t have any books available to help me immediately for that second trip and we rejoined the ship no better off. However the bosun was determined to help me and it was during the third trip when we finally managed to get some suitable reading material from the seafarer’s education service. The Padre from the Flying Angel Seaman’s mission actually met the ship on its arrival back in Liverpool at the end of my second voyage and presented me with a whole box of suitable 'school' books.

On Sunday I just lazed around in my cabin and did my laundry during the morning then I went to the Walker art gallery in the afternoon. There I saw the picture again, you know – ‘And when did you last see your father?’ – The picture of the little royalist boy being interrogated by the puritans. The picture so-oo reminded me of the inquiry I had just recently endured.

On the following Monday things got really busy with the heavy lifts and the over-lashings. I made myself invaluable while I clambered nimbly over the big loads as only a fifteen-year-old could; tugging wires, threading chains through ‘hard-to-reach’ lugs and freeing snags as the units were secured and lashed and chained down.
It was still March and the North Atlantic storms were still bloody awful. You’ve probably heard the seamen on my ships repeat the old saying; there are three months of bad weather in the Atlantic and nine months of f---ing dreadful.

If – no sorry not if; it was inevitable; when the ship started to roll and pitch in those storms, the heavy units had to be really secure. Securing lashings, chains and covers have to checked every day and what better thing to have scrambling over the loads than a nimble, willing, fifteen-year-old kid. I could hop nimbly over the big units and point out were unseen fastenings and shackles were coming loose then one of the stronger, older seamen would climb up to fix it. Often I’d help by watching the lashings as they were tightened to see none were in danger of breaking or coming undone. Often I even crawled into difficult corners and tightened up the 'bottle screws' myself. I got covered in filthy black grease and rust but it made me feel really useful and important. Just the stuff to kelp a kid recover some self respect.

Most of the time spent while loading the units in Liverpool, I became the bosun’s eyes and ears to squeeze into tight corners where older bigger men found difficulty.
On the Tuesday morning some photocopies of my statement were delivered to the Captain and he gave me one to keep. I kept it for many years until it was lost when my ship was attacked by terrorists or pirates in the South China Sea; I’ll never know which. We were forced to abandon her in a storm in the South China Sea because a rocket propelled grenade had penetrated her engine room and flooded it.
Then on the Wednesday I was working on some of the last loads when the bosun called to me."

‘Spider! Go and stand by the gangway, we’ve got important visitors.’

"I stared uncomprehendingly at the bosun because normally it was one of the cadets who attended the gangway for important visitors. The cadets were trainee officers and when they were put on gangway duty to receive important visitors, they wore their smart uniforms, reefer jackets and white topped caps. I was covered in filthy grease for I had been greasing the lashing wires and chains and shackles. Naturally I had been wearing my oldest, dirtiest working clothes. I mean I was handling oily wire ropes that were being greased for antirust protection once we were out at sea. I was absolutely filthy and in no fit state to receive ‘an important visitor’! I asked the bosun why I was being sent to do gangway duty, it didn’t make sense."

‘What for Bos’ were in dock and the ship’s not moving? Shouldn’t the cadet be there?’

‘Jus’ do as you’re told spider, you’ll see why in a minute!’

"Baffled, I did as I was told and went to attend the gangway. I was too scared to adjust any manropes or even tidy up the fancy life-belt because my hands were covered in filthy black grease. I’d have spread grease everywhere. My attending the gangway was a crazy idea and I was getting suspicious. The ship was in dock and not moving around with tides or currents, there were no cranes or trains moving ashore to catch the end of the gangway and everything was as it should be. Something wasn’t right and I was getting tetchy. Then my heart sank.

Down the quay appeared two black Bedford police vans; you know, the old, boxy ‘Black Marias’ and I cursed bitterly."

‘The bastards had been lying to me all the time; the police were coming for me!’

"As I scanned around looking for an escape and debating what to do, a heavy hand landed gently on my shoulder and the bosun’s voice announced softly as the hand tightened.

‘Calm down Spider. They’re not coming for you lad. Just wait here and watch.’

"I was still tense and the bosun realised I was still contemplating running for it so he observed."
‘Where would you run to Spider? The walls around the dock are twenty feet high and the gates are manned all the time. If you dived into the Mersey you’d be swept away and drowned in minutes. Just calm down lad, they are not coming for you, trust me!’

"I had to trust him, his grip was too strong and I could never have escaped it, but even then; he demonstrated to me that he would trust me and it was then up to me to trust him. He relaxed his grip and removed his hand almost inviting me to run. I looked up fearfully and our eyes met, he raised his eyebrows inquisitively and nodded towards the wide expanse of the Mersey. He was right, there was no escape. The tides in the River Mersey range up and down by thirty feet so the currents are tremendous, six knots; that's seven and a half statute miles per hour. I would have been swept away to certain death instantly, even if the tide was coming in I’d have been swept miles up the estuary - and it’s a deep, wide, cold place - and it was March.

With that the vans stopped at the bottom of the gangway and a dozen coppers came pounding up the steps. The gangway was bouncing like a springboard as they boarded and I thought the whole gangway would bounce out of its lugs. Then I stared uncomprehendingly as they totally ignored me. They went straight past me and into the amidships accommodation. The bosun tapped my shoulder gently and spoke softly to reassure me.

‘There you are lad; like I said, they aren’t after you; now just wait here with me and watch.’

I stood in disbelief until about twenty minutes later all the men who had been my bedfellows; my friends as I thought of them, were marched down the gangway in handcuffs. I’d never seen anything like it and I was horrified that they were taking my friends away. I asked myself ‘what had I done’ and I started shouting to let them go.

The Bosun squeezed my shoulder and said they were no friends of mine but I was too distraught to understand him. I kept shouting after the vans even as they disappeared down the quay.”

Ellie stared aghast.

“You mean you still saw them as your friends after everything?”

Beverly grimaced resentfully.

“Listen Ellie; these guys were the only people who had ever cuddled me, ever been kind to me, spoken softly to me, or kissed me and kept me warm in bed - all the things a little girl need when she's growing up!!!!!

Up until my first voyage that ship the only adults I’d ever experienced, in all walks of life, had been unfeeling or abusive, cruel bullies; - and that includes the doctors in Walton! What did I know? Those guys had been my shipmates and their actions had been tantamount to mothering me, the first cuddles and embraces of those who showed any care!

To me they were obviously my friends as far as I could understand.”

Ellie wagged her head and disbelief.

“You were really buggered up in the head weren’t you?”

“Tell me about it.” Beverly croaked before continuing.

“All the rest of that afternoon I worried about them and fretted about what would happen to them. That night I locked myself in my cabin, put on my bra and knickers and cried myself to sleep. I wanted to be their little girl again, all cuddled and warm in their beds, but I'd betrayed them! What did I know?

The next morning I turned to for work and I finally realised my ‘friends’ weren’t coming back. I felt guilty as hell and the bosun picked up on my mood. He told me to go and make myself a cup of tea and I grabbed his offer. For the rest of that morning I just cried to myself in my cabin.

After lunch the doctor returned with my health report and a huge box of drugs. I was taken up to the captain’s cabin and the situation was explained to me.
I could stay on the ship and be treated by the second mate who acted as the ships medical officer, or I could sign off and be kept in an isolation hospital to make sure I took my medicines and didn’t spread any disease.
I had syphilis, gonorreah, NSU, herpes - you name it I had it! I was like a walking plague victim. Danish seamen call it 'A Turkish Orchestra'”

Ellie’s jaw sagged for the umpteenth time and Beverly's jaw tensed.

“Bloody hell girl! Why are you surprised? I’d been a street prostitute on the streets of half the bloody cities of Northern England. Different partners nearly every night and NO protection. Not to mention two years of perpetual rape in Borstal; again with no protection. What the hell d’you think I had? Flue!

Naturally I chose the ship; the last place I ever wanted to be was in a hospital again. I didn’t trust doctors and the very words ‘Isolation hospital’ rang like a death knell. Besides, I’d had eight years of isolation since I was six. The doctor took me, Captain Mac and the second mate through a whole list of do’s and don’ts then finally, Beverly, the pox-ridden deck-boy, was set to sail; - six needles a day for three months then three for six months with health checks whenever I returned to Liverpool and then the jabs to continue until I was declared clear.

For a whole of my first fully legal trip I slept in the ships hospital. It was isolation and protection. The captain gave me the other key so I could lock my door at night. It also gave me some dignity and told me I was NOT a prisoner!Furthermore the hospital was stood alone on the centre-castle abaft the funnel so nobody could sneak up to the door without serious risk of being seen from the bridge-wing by the lookout.”

Ellie wagged her head then added.

“Thank God Aids wasn’t around then.”

“Don’t I know it!?” Beverly agreed. “Well anyway; a day later the ship was nearly ready to sail and the crew were called back by telegrams. I signed on for a second voyage as deck boy and off I went to sea, legally this time and with legally amended identity books.”

“You were lucky Beverly.” Ellie observed.

“Nobody knows that better than I do.” Beverly replied then continued thoughtfully.

“Consider this Ellie. You take a transgendered kid who had spent 6 years in a psycho unit followed by two and a half years in prison - borstal that is. The boy had been a run-away, a thief, a liar, a transvestite child-prostitute and he was riddled with disease. Finally to cap it all he couldn’t read or write and he hadn’t got a single qualification to his name, he’d never been to a proper school. Except for a brief time between aged five and six. What would have happened to that boy today?”

Ellie nodded thoughtfully as Beverly continued.

“Now consider what Captain Mac did by signing me on as deck-boy - legally? He gave me a proper job with government regulated rate of pay; he gave me a cabin and, all importantly, my own key to lock my own door. He gave me a warm, private, dry bed where nobody could invade my life. I received three, good, square meals a day plus a night pantry with a buffet bar where I could pick and nibble at food all night.

At the time however, I didn’t realise I was entitled to eat from the night buffet. I thought it was for watch keepers only. I can always remember on the night we sailed from Liverpool just after midnight as we crossed the Mersey bar and set course for Philadelphia.

I came from the deck last of all because after sending down the mooring ropes, I had been coiling up the heaving lines and putting the canvas cover on the big brass docking telegraph on the docking station down aft. It was a cold, wet, stormy April night and I was last into the crew’s mess-room feeling cold, tired and hungry. I was staring longingly at the food as the more senior watch-keeping seamen all shovelled sandwiches and cold cuts onto their plates.

The lamp-trimmer saw me staring hungrily at the sideboard groaning with left-overs and asked me.

‘What’s up spider, aren’t yer hungry lad?’

I nodded and then turned to the bosun and asked if I was allowed to have some. The crew fell silent for a moment then started roaring with laughter as the bosun explained.

‘Fer God’s sake Spider! Eat all yer want kid. Yer part of the deck crew now lad, fill yer boots, it’s part of yer wages!’

Then and only then did I realise I had become one amongst men, even if I was only a very junior one.
On that second voyage working as a bona-fida crew-member, Captain Mac gave me dignity and the self respect – the sense of worth that came with my job and being accepted into the company of honest, hard-working men.

Yes, they were hard men; rough and ready men though decent and straight-talking; but above all, - they were fair.
Captain Mac gave me all this and more - free travel all around the world because I was now a registered seaman and I could find work on any ship provided I kept my nose clean and recorded good discharges in my discharge book.

Could you imagine a fifteen-year-old misfit landing that sort of deal today? - Free travel all around the world!!”

Ellie wagged her head again.

“Frankly, no I couldn’t. Captain Mac must have been some sort of saint.”

“He was - well he was to me, God knows why!. He was like a father to me; indeed some years ago I had the enormous privilege of attending his funeral in North Shields. His wife actually asked me to give the Eulogy because his two daughters were too upset. It was one of the most emotive and rewarding moments of my life. His wife and I spoke at length after the funeral.

Even she didn’t know his whole life story, indeed I don’t think anybody did but apparently Captain Mac had a rough time of it as a child. He’d definitely had a very bad war, torpedoed a few times on the Atlantic convoys and apparently once on the Arctic run. Anybody who survived that was a truly lucky son-of-a-bitch – as well as being as tough as old boots.

Nobody knows better than me how bloody awful the North Atlantic can be. Seamen joke that it’s three months of bad weather and nine months of just bloody awful! There’s a lot of truth in that black, homespun humour.

Think what it must have been like to get torpedoed and to end up swimming for a lifeboat in those seas. Captain Mac must have seen some terrible stuff and then he must have seen something in me that struck a chord, or reflected his life somehow. I don’t know, but I can think of no other reason the man was so good to me. I had countless reasons to be grateful to him and as a reflection on his memory I in turn later helped transgendered kids who ended up in trouble.

Remember those children you saw back at my Rosy Cottage riding school; well I adopted some of those kids and fostered others because they were young and vulnerable. Captain Mac taught me that much.

I stayed nearly ten years on that ship and finally rose to the rank of Lamp-trimmer; that’s like second bosun. All the time I was earning good money while the ship traded up the Eastern seaboard and Great Lakes. I was making huge amounts of overtime as we transited the various locks and canals.”

“If the money was so good, why did you leave?” Ellie asked.

Beverly gave a wry smile.

“I didn't, the ship effectively left me. She was eventually sold. We arrived in Liverpool after a winter trip and Captain Mac called the crew together as we were signing off for that voyage. He told us the ship was being sold to the Greeks. All the regular ‘company men’ were being offered jobs on other newly-built company ships. The non-contract crew would have to find work elsewhere but that was no hardship. At the time seaborne trade was expanding quickly all over the world so there was plenty of work and nobody suffered unduly.

By then, after over nine years on the ship, I was a contracted regular hand and Captain Mac spoke to me privately after the meeting. He still called me ‘Spider’ privately, it was his privilege and a term almost of respect for me and the journey I’d travelled. His biggest gift to me was helping me to learn to read, write and all importantly learn maths and science from the text books supplied by ‘The Seafarer’s Education Service’.

On that day, the last day of the ships last voyage, in Captain Mac’s private quarters, we chatted about how I should go forward with my life and my efforts to improve my lot by studying.

My studying had all started on my second trip when I was cleaning the wheelhouse and chartroom one afternoon. We were only a day and a half out of Liverpool and we had just rounded Malin Head off Northern Ireland to face the full brunt of a North Atlantic westerly. Suddenly the ship had rolled heavily and the first mate Mr Roberts had accidently spilled his coffee over the chart. He was cursing his own clumsiness when I appeared as if by magic with some clean cloths and a bucket because I’d been just going to clean the bridge lavatory. Instead we both hurriedly mopped up the spilt coffee before it could permanently stain the chart and we managed to save it. With the panic over he realised we had wiped off the pencilled positions so he asked me to read out the hourly coastal positions from the ships log for the previous six hours. Then he re-plotted them on the chart.

I was hopeless at reading out the latitudes and longitudes and he wagged his head as he transcribed them by pencil faster than I could give them.

I think that really brought home to Mr Roberts just how bad a handicap my illiteracy was. Later that evening I was cleaning the coffee tray and replenishing the sandwiches for the third mate coming on duty. He asked me frankly.

‘D’you want to learn to read and write Spider?’

I just stopped and stared at the sticky mugs I was taking to wash. It seemed that cleaning other people’s mess was all I was ever destined to do. The answer to his question was staring me in the face but I was too frightened, and too ashamed to say yes. I was certain people would laugh at me if they saw me trying to read some child’s book; even in the privacy of my own cabin. I desperately wanted to say yes but that ridiculous image of a teen-aged boy reading a nursery book or something was just too much to swallow. In the end I mumbled uncertainly.

‘People’ will laugh sir.’

“Not if you do it up here spider. You could spend an hour during the dog-watch with me when we’re at sea. There aren’t many ships and the watchmen is outside keeping a lookout. There will only be me and the captain and the sparky coming into the chartroom between five and six in the evening.’

‘But I’ll be serving the men their dinner then sir. They eat between six and seven o’clock.’

"He had another think then said he’d see me the following night. The next night he was there with Captain Mac. I was given permission to go and study in the little pilot’s cabin usually reserved for long pilotages that required two pilots like the St Laurence Seaway and the Great lakes canals. On ocean passages the pilot’s cabin was usually empty and I was handy to the bridge for messages and stuff. They arranged for me to study between seven and eight each night.

When the other officers found out they even offered to help, mostly the new radio officer and the electrician because they kept different watches to the deck and engineering officers. Then the deck cadets found out and they came sneaking around the Pilot’s Cabin one evening. When they looked through the port-hole and saw me poring over my books they realised it was true, I was actually studying and I wasn’t being isolated because of my infections.

They even offered to help me, especially as I improved.

I still needed to read out aloud though; like some kid reading to the teacher. That’s where the bosun proved to be a real hero. Later each night I’d often sit in his cabin up until nine o’clock while he listened to me read. The crazy part was that the first ‘book’ I finally read from cover to cover was the ‘International Rules of the Road at Sea’.

That’s like the highway code for ships instead of cars. It had the double function of teaching me the rules for ships meeting at sea and teaching me to read. I can still vaguely remember the first few lines because I later had to learn them all verbatim for my second mates licence.

‘These rules shall be followed by all vessels on the high seas and in all waters connected thereto navigable to sea-going vessels.’

Or some such wording. It was a lot harder than ‘Janet and John reading scheme,’ I can tell you.
Anyway, it was during those particular hours that I finally came to realise that sitting in somebody else’s cabin wasn’t an automatic invitation to be raped. The sheer relief of stepping out of the bosun’s cabin at nine pm after pursuing a completely normal and lawful activity was like a breath of fresh air. Never once did he make any untoward moves and I gradually got to accept that it could be safe sitting near to somebody without inviting rape or unwelcome attention.

Also the cadets were studying for their second mate’s exams and they had stuff like dictionaries and exercise books. I was desperately short of writing paper until Mr Roberts was told by one of the cadets so he gave me several large hard-back note-books. Everybody who cared eventually pitched in and eventually, ever so slowly, I lost my embarrassment and shame.

Thinking back, I can’t help comparing the guys on the ship with the bastards in Borstal and the doctors in the hospital. Life was so topsy-turvy. Those bastards were paid to look after me and I suffered nothing but abuse and degradation at their hands.

But the ship’s crew, who had no responsibilities towards me; just ordinary working guys, and yet a bunch of seamen; supposedly the roughest and scummiest people on the planet! They were prepared to teach me and indeed did so. And don’t forget! Those seamen knew about Beverly the trans kid but they never abused me; indeed some of the queer stewards were totally solicitous of my situation. How come ordinary guys like that can be so decent and just let me be myself while so-called psychiatrists and wardens caused me all sorts of shit trying to change me or cure me, or worse, use me?

Well after six or seven years of constant study and playing ‘catch-up’ I had enough English, Maths and Science to study for my second mate’s licence. Make’s you think doesn’t it?”

Ellie nodded slowly; there was no contradiction to Beverly observations.

“So what happened after you paid off; - after the ship was sold.” Ellie asked.

Beverly smiled and tapped her buttock as though tapping the back pocket of a pair of jeans, though she was wearing leggings and calf length boots; her normal apparel when dockside.

“When I paid off I was rich. Well – relatively so. I had over seven thousand pounds in pay after nine years of constant work with lots of overtime and never paying off. You see, the other guys went home while our ship was on the British coast; that is Liverpool, Manchester and occasionally Glasgow. Then they’d return penniless as she prepared to sail again for the U.S.A and Canada.

I had nowhere to go, no family and certainly no friends ashore, consequently I stayed aboard in the UK and earned yet more overtime; - working in port, early 'turn-to's' to prepare the hatches, night-aboard money, lots of sailings and dockings and ‘shifting ship’ between berths, transiting the Manchester ship canal and just about any other jobs like night-watchman when the ship went into dry-dock. I was obsessed with saving money. The bosun lived in Cornwall so he had an arrangement to take leave after every fifth trip and he showed me how to save my money by not pissing it up in the bars.

All the time I lived aboard that ship I never once paid for my food or paid a heating bill, nor did I have to wash my own sheets. - That was a real bonus after two years of pink sheets! All I had to pay for was my own clothes which included the occasional dress and a bit of lingerie and stockings. Consequently, I saved a lot of money.

When I finally paid off, my seven thousand would have bought two or even three terraced houses in those days but I took Captain Mac’s advice. I used the money firstly to go to nautical college and hey-presto! I passed my exams first time. I had proved to the world something I had always suspected; I wasn’t stupid I was just transgendered! More importantly I had proved it to myself; I wasn’t stupid!

Six months after starting college I had passed my exams and I was a fully qualified officer. More importantly I still, had bags of money left over from my pay-off. I decided to take Captain Macs second piece of advice. I started looking for a home. To go looking for houses in remote places you need a car so I started taking driving lessons then I passed my driving test and bought a van."

“Oh do tell,” Ellie pressed as she recalled her own early house-hunting days after her marriage.

Beverly grinned and began to go red as she blushed.

“Well, as you can realise, I was looking for some sort of gorgeous, girly, ‘Roses-round-the-door’ dream-cottage but also somewhere utterly isolated where I could indulge my femininity in total privacy and security. I eventually found it; a small farmhouse called ‘Fingar Bach’ deep in the folds of the Llandegla Moors behind Denbigh. The neighbouring farmer had bought the farm for the land to add to his own and he was selling off the farmhouse with a paddock and an orchard. The farmhouse was located on a typically narrow country lane over a three miles from the main road and half a mile from any other dwelling. It was utterly isolated and there was also a pretty little stream running through the back of the farmyard. The whole setup was just perfect. The hedges had overgrown along the lane so it provided perfect isolation, privacy and silence. I fell in love with the place immediately and bought it for Cash.

That raised a few eyebrows as well; a scruffy sailor wearing denim jeans walks into the estate-agent and declares he wants to buy a house.”

“Very good sir and have you organised a mortgage?”

I savoured the sheer pleasure of slapping down my money in a huge bundle then declaring I wasn’t interested in a mortgage; I HAD CASH!

They started clucking and fussing like wet hens and chattering on about conveyancing and all sorts of legal jargon. I didn’t understand a bloody word about all the ‘legalese’ but I do now.

It still took a few weeks to complete the sale but the moment the cottage was mine, I immediately set about restoring the house and converting the barns to extra living space. Like many Welsh farm-houses, the cattle sheds and stable were stone-built extensions to the main house. Within a year I had the house exactly as I had dreamed; roses around the door and everything. I still had another year’s leave and I intended to spend it simply luxuriating in my dream home whilst living as a girl or more correctly a woman. But it wasn’t to be.”

The disappointment ran thick through Beverly’s voice and Ellie felt forced to ask.

“Why, what happened?”

“My sister, your aunt Sandie, she discovered I had bought the cottage and she came looking.”

Ellie looked askance.

“Oh. She never told me that, she said she spent years looking for you and never found you.”

“Oh didn’t she, I wonder what she thought she had to hide – no I can guess; maybe she felt guilty about my disappearance, maybe she was trying to look for forgiveness. Whatever it was, I was in no mood to forgive and I gave her short shrift. I made sure she wouldn’t find me a second time.”

“Go on, how did she find you the first time?”

“Apparently she was working in another estate agent’s office in another town called Mold. Like most office girls, she gossiped with other office girls over lunch and she had a friend who worked in the same agency where I’d bought the farmhouse. I had bought Fingar Bach from the Estate Agent office in Denbigh and this other girl worked in the sister office in Mold. Well apparently she was going through annual sales figures and she spotted my male name on the list of annual sales for the Denbigh office. She immediately recognised that my name was the same as your auntie Sandie’s maiden name; Holst.

Having recognised the similarity with your Auntie Sandie previous maiden name she had mentioned it. Our old name is not a common name and my sister obviously put two and two to make four. They immediately suspected that I was her younger brother and they were right. My given names clinched it. Later on I confirmed this had been the case; apparently this girl had accidentally broken the confidentiality clause in her contract and revealed my name to my sister. Then the evil bitch came looking for me.”

Ellie protested.

“Auntie Sandie’s not an evil bitch; she’s one of the nicer ones in the family.”

Beverly snorted partly with derision, partly with disgust.

“Huh! To you maybe, to me she was enemy number one! Or possibly number two - after the bitch that spawned me.”

Ellie frowned uncomfortably as she sensed Beverly’s hurt. It would achieve nothing to try and contradict her new-found auntie so she let Beverly's remarks slide and simply pressed for more of the story.

“So what happened, when she found you?”

“Oh yes, I remember that day as if it was yesterday. It was a Friday afternoon on a gloriously hot summers’ day. I had just finished a job on the house that morning and I had scrubbed up and dressed prior to going into the Gay village in Manchester. I was just lounging in a swinging seat in the orchard and savouring a long cool drink as I was checking some building costs. It was an idyllic day as I sat in my beautiful floaty summer dress while the bees droned lazily around the flowers. I hadn’t got a care in the world. My summer dress slithered provocatively over my nylon slip and I was in heaven as I squirmed sensuously inside my dress.

Then I heard a car engine come labouring up my lane and I wondered what it could be. My nearest neighbour was Mr Griffiths, the farmer who’d sold me Fingar Bach. He invariably travelled up the lane in his tractor when he came to check his live-stock or crops so I knew from the engine sound that it probably wasn’t him. This was a car engine and I became curious as it approached unseen behind my hedges that I had deliberately left to grow thick, tall and impenetrable. I stood up irritably to look down the lane but didn’t recognise the car. When it arrived, it didn’t stop by my front gate but it drove past and entered via the old farmyard gate.

I was a bit annoyed that they hadn’t called at my garden gate and front door. I mean, isn’t that what regular, first-time visitors do - knock on the front door?

The yard gate led into the old barnyard that had now become my backyard. With all the building work going on, the back was a hell of a mess because the builder was using it to store materials and dump rubble as he was still renovating the buildings. It was a muddy, dirty place with all the on-going building work. Consequently I never went through my backyard into my house because it carried dirt into the refurbished parts of the house. These visitors however, drove straight up to my back-yard where I’d left the gates open for the builder’s skip-lorry. Then they drove in and parked in all the mud and rubble, churning the ground up even more. As they got out I heard the lady passenger make some comment about ‘the place being a bloody mess’ then she looked up and saw me. I recognised her immediately but she didn’t recognise me for I had put my make up on ready to clubbing and she obviously didn’t know I was living as a woman.

She must have thought I was her younger brother’s wife or ‘live-in’ partner. I had bought the house while dressed as a man and few people knew about Beverly.

As I recognised her, I stood in my back door unwilling to step into the mess in my pretty heels and I called her name immediately.

“What the f—k are you doing here Sandra?” I demanded.

She stared uncomprehendingly then took a gasp as she finally suspected who I might be.

“Is that Bernard!?”

“Never mind who ‘that is’.” I mimicked back alluding to her offensive use of the indefinite article. “I know who you are and I don’t want you anywhere near this place or me. You’ve got two options. You can leave peacefully or I’ll throw you off.

She tried to argue but I was not having any of it. Her husband tried to negotiate but I was past caring.

“Go now. I don’t want you near me, I don’t care what you’re trying to say just go! And take him with you. This isn’t some six-year-old kid you can bully. I’m a twenty-six-year seaman and I can punch my weight. Now GO!”

There was a pause but Ellie didn’t interrupt; it was apparent Beverly was gathering her thoughts before she continued.

“She left there and then and the last I saw was the car driving away across the valley. I’ve never seen anybody from the family since that day. In fact apart from that incident I have never seen any of them since I was put away – six bloody years old. How does that affect a person?”

Ellie was still silent. She knew that fact to be true because her own family had fallen out over it. There was nothing she could think of that would mitigate the circumstances. Beverly sensed her story was over and she wrapped it up.

“The following Monday I stormed down to the estate agents and demanded to know how my sister had found out. After all I was over twenty miles from the old family home but I could not criticise the estate agents in Denbigh. My name was unique and it was no secret that I’d bought the house. I hadn’t changed my name up to that point and I never did until quite recently when I finally went forward with my gender change.

The upshot was, I put the house, ‘Fingar Bach’, my beloved ‘Roses-round-the-door, cottage’ back on the market and I went back to sea. I decided I would use up my remaining leave another time and bank the money. It came in useful later in my life but essentially that was my early life.

After that it was more lonely years at sea climbing the ladder of promotion, changing companies when I heard that other shipping companies were seeking to recruit. Thus I wandered around the planet until I was made redundant once too often. Fortunately it was a Danish company and they gave me a generous redundancy package but frankly I was sick and tired of being a piece of flotsam being shuffled around by different shipping companies as and when it suited them.

Then I got a lucky break.

I was staying at the Botlek seaman’s hostel in Rotterdam where I was looking for yet another job. There by happy chance I happened to meet Billy and Mac. We were all ‘between ships’ and looking for work when Mac spotted this advert for a ship to trade between South Africa and Iran. We laughed about it and thought no more of it. Then the next day I came across another advert about a ship for sale up in the Baltic Sea; it was a distressed bankruptcy sale. Once again we joked about buying it but one thing led to another and we became serious about it. I went looking to win the freight contract while Billy and Mac went to look at the ship lying up the Baltic Sea.

Yes it was the Speedway, the very same ship that sailed early this morning. She was our very first ship. When the Speedway came on the market, we three – that’s Me, Billy and Mac, bought it with our shared Savings and a mortgage. We had already won the charter between South Africa and Iran and since then we three have never looked back. It was a somewhat shaky deal and it involved carrying some rather illicit stuff between the two countries but there was no embargo between the countries so technically we weren’t breaking anybody’s laws. The freight-rates were sky high though and we did very well out of the charter.”

Ellie wagged her head and grinned.

“So here you are owner of three ships and millionaire. Nana Charlotte would be amazed to learn of your success.”

Beverly stiffened and pursed her lips in anger.

“Nana Charlotte – as you call her, can take a running jump. The less I see or hear of that bitch, the happier I am!”

“But don’t you want to see her? If only to show that you’ve done better than any of her other children?”

Beverly sighed somewhat impatiently.

“Have I? So what? I really don’t give a toss about them. You still don’t seem to get it do you darling. As far as I’m concerned, they are dead; the bitch that spawned me, the bastard that fathered me and all their other children.”

Ellie nodded sadly as she was finally forced to acknowledge her Auntie Beverly’s feelings.

“So you say you will continue to hate them. Isn’t hatred a destructive force both for the hater and the hated?”

“No Ellie, you’ve got it wrong. I don’t feel hatred for them, I don‘t feel anything at all. To carry hatred is to carry a burden and I don’t want to burden myself. Consequently I have shed all feelings for them and therefore I do not burden myself.”

“So what of my dad William?”

Beverly paused thoughtfully and Ellie wondered if she had found a chink in her auntie’s armour.

“William? Billy as I used to call him; I don’t suppose I can hold him liable, he was only eight after all. Though apparently he never came looking for me so he can’t have been unduly concerned about me either.”

“Men seldom do Auntie Bev, it’s women who take upon themselves the burdens of family.”

“Yes you’re right Ellie. I suppose they do it for the children mainly, to give them a sense of identity, a sense of belonging. I see Callum seems pretty well set in the family bosom but just ask yourself to what family do I belong?”

Now that Auntie Beverly had raised the subject of her child, Ellie seized the seeming olive branch that appeared to be offered.

“Oh, Callum of course? I know you love him; I’ve seen your countenance split into a smile when you meet her - or him either as Callum or Callista.”

“Of course I love your child; I prefer her as Callista though. She is after all, a child after my own heart, a child like me. How can I not see her safe? Who else of our blood besides you of course, will see her safe through the life of turbulence she has now to confront? You’ve said it yourself; her own great grandmother despises her gender dysphoria.”

Ellie felt a warmth wash like a wave through her core and she smiled contentedly. She decided to try and arrange a meeting between her new-found aunty and her dad by using Callista as a key.

“Can she come and see your ships one day?”

“Any time she wants Ellie, whenever she wants. Bring her next week if you wish, you know I like seeing her. Even bring her during the midweek if time allows after school. She can get changed from that boy’s uniform she hates to wear and she can come down. I’ll welcome her with open arms.”

“I’ll have to fetch her though, that mean’s time off work.” Ellie cautioned.

Beverly smiled.

“No problem. You work well for me, you deserve the privilege. Best make it Tuesday evening when the Speedwell docks. I’ll speak to my partner Angie and see if any of my children want to come down. They can show Callista around the ship. I’ll be here anyway when she docks so Angie can bring our brood down while you fetch Callista.”

They cleared away the coffee things and locked the office then made their different ways home; Beverly to Rosy Cottage while Ellie drove the longer journey to her shared cottage deeper into Rural Dorset. Once home she decided to tell he dad of her amazing discovery. On the way home the heavens opened and she arrived in the pouring rain to the accompaniment of thunder and lightning. As she dashed from the car her dad emerged from the cottage and flung the door open then grinned.

“Wet enough for you darling?”

“Quite, thank you!” She grinned as she tugged the coat off her hair and reached up to peck him on the cheek. “Where’s Calli?”

“She’s with mum they’re learning sowing or something. I think your Nan’s coming around to the inevitable.”

Ellie’s eyes widened as her eyebrows rose.

“Well that’ll be a first.”

“I think your reading the riot act to her made your feelings sink in. I haven’t heard a peep for the past two hours,
Calli must be enjoying something.”

“Well that’s good. I’ve got some freakish news for you!”

“Oh-oh. Am I going to like it?”

“I don’t know.”

“Go on, hit me with it.”

Ellie relished the bomb-shell she was about to drop but decided at the last moment not to reveal Beverly’s identity.

“My boss Beverly is a transgender girl just like Calli!”

William frowned slightly and stared at his daughter.

“What? You mean born a man and transitioned to be a woman.”

Ellie wanted to scold her father for using the wrong language or expressions but she simply explained softly.

“No Daddy. She was born a girl but had the wrong plumbing - the wrong genitalia. In her brain, she’s always been a girl then a woman. The trouble was when she was a child, things were very different. She’s been a woman all her life but suppressed the issue as she tried to accommodate her own guilt and the fear of other people’s loathing she’s felt all her life.”

“So how did she get to be the boss of the transport company you work for?”

“She owns it daddy.”

William frowned with mild surprise.

“So what exactly does she do then, there in the harbour? I can hardly see how a transgendered person could make her way amongst all those truckers and dockers.

“She manages very well and those dockers respect her.”

“So what sort of transport business is it?” William asked.

“Shipping, what else. You know I work for a small shipping company down in Poole harbour, well she owns those ships with the green white and black funnels.”

“I thought you were just involved with a freight company shipping truck-loads into and out of the docks. I didn’t realise it was a shipping line as well. I thought it was a fleet of trucks you managed.”

“No daddy! It’s a fleet of ships; she owns a fleet of ships the Speedway, the Speedwell, the Speedwind, and now with this north-Sea business, she’s buying a fourth ship and calling it the Speedwork. Beverly is the majority share-holder in the shipping fleet plus a half share in that huge container crane that dominates the harbour, plus a couple of thousand containers that she’s pooled into the world consortiums."

William fell silent as he settled into the regular routine of preparing dinner and within thirty minutes Nana Charlotte and Callista joined them as the four generations were seated around the table.

“Was your business at the office all sorted then darling?” Nana Charlotte asked.

“Yes Nana. There’s a few loose ends to tie up later this week then the North-sea trade should start the beginning of next month. I’ll have to go north sometime this month and take Calli with me; she can stay at Denton Hall while I take a hotel room in Hull.”

“Will he be staying with the Duchess I suppose?”

“SHE will be staying with Molly, yes. I’ll pop into see them at the weekends and any other time I have free, but I’ll be gone for a couple of months until we can find a suitable manager for the trade in and out of the Humber. I can’t be certain how long I’ll be gone.”

Cali’s eyes widened with pleasure at the mention of Denton Hall.

“Will I be able to wear my dresses up there mummy?”

Ellie smiled.

“Yes darling, of course you will, but not for school. We’ve got to get the doctors to declare you a girl first and that’s going to take time. These things are complicated.”

“What does complicated mean?”

“Difficult, like a maze or a puzzle, hard to work out.”

“It’s not like a puzzle to me. It’s easy, I feel like a girl more and more; all the time now.”

Ellie sighed and stared at her dad and Nan.

“See what I mean. If this isn’t sorted soon, she’ll grow up, f----d up.” She mouthed the swear-word.

Nana Charlotte drew breath to speak but a glare from Ellie cut her short. Charlotte glared back then snapped.

“I was about to say her sowing is very good! I’m beginning to think you may be right; I might actually have a great grand-daughter and not a great grand-son.”

Ellie sagged with relief as she felt a burden lifting from her shoulders.

“Sorry Nana, I’m a bit on edge tonight.”

“Trouble at t’mill was it?” Nana Charlotte smiled.

“Yes, partly but it can keep.”

~~o000o~~

Novel 1 Chapter 12

On the Tuesday Afternoon, as agreed, Ellie left work early to collect her dad and child preparatory to visiting the Speedwell that was docked and currently discharging at the container berth further down the quay from Beverly’s office. Beverly had also left to collect her brood from school and they briefly confirmed the arrangements for meeting back at the ship that evening. Ellie picked Callum up from school as pre-arranged and then collected her dad from their cottage. While Callum was changing out of school uniform Ellie briefed her dad.

“Don’t bring up any issues to do with transgenderism or she will twig that I’ve been talking about it. She might in all probability open the subject herself. She will be bringing her adopted children and two of those kids are transgendered so they’ll most probably want to talk to Callista about her feelings and plans. Transgendered kids get very close to each other and there are good reasons why. If Beverly does mention it then you’re at liberty to discuss it of course.”

Her father nodded patiently for he could see his only daughter was thoroughly stressed out.

“I only wish your mum could have been here. I’m sure she would have shown the utmost compassion towards this woman.”

“Thanks daddy, that’s good, just keep remembering she’s a woman and you’ll do fine. It won’t be hard anyway, when you meet her you’ll understand why.”

“Is she pretty then, you know; does she pass?”

“Yes and yes. She’s very attractive considering she’s in her early sixties. She’s only slightly above average height for a woman and quite slender. Ah, here comes the chief guest. Are you ready darling?”

Callista entered with a pair of robust yet pretty, pale blue, suede boots in her hand.

“Shall I wear my walking boots mummy?”

“Might be a good idea darling, they’ll act as safety footwear. We’ll give you helmets and high-vis jackets at the office. Come on, let’s not be late.”

They chatted at length in the car and Ellie was relieved to find she had arrived first. It would give her time to elaborate on stuff concerning the business. She gave her dad the ‘guided tour’ of the commercial premises and storehouse but it wasn’t long before Beverly arrived, in a Tourano nine-seater transit van. Ellie’s dad stared mesmerised as a veritable mob of adolescent children and two older girls poured out of the back while Beverly’s wife Angela stepped down from the front seat with a young toddler at her side. It took several long seconds for William to recover from the size of Beverly’s brood and the shipping magnate smiled with amusement at William. She would have had difficulty recognising him as her long-lost brother but that was to be expected, it had been well over fifty years. The shock of seeing so many children left William a little stupefied. Ellie reminded him.

“Are we going to stand here all evening or are we taking the children to the ship. If we are going aboard, might I advise you two to make some sort of move or are you going to remain rooted there all night? The ship resumes loading in ten minutes and crossing the container park on foot is dangerous.”

William recovered from the surprise and smiled as he extended his hand. Beverly took it and gave it a gentle, lady-like shake to reinforce the feminine image she portrayed though it was Ellie’s father who finally broke the tense formality probably because Beverly was still trying to assimilate her feelings and responses.

“So you are the remarkable lady who has captured my daughter’s loyalty and dedication.”

Beverly responded with a smile towards Ellie.

“Oh I can assure you I truly value that loyalty and her splendid mind. Without her numeric skills I’d need a veritable
regiment of clerks and accountants. As it is we manage quite well with just three other office staff. Truly, your daughter is a remarkable mathematician."

Ellie’s father nodded and tightened his grip on Beverly’s hand ever so slightly. Beverly glanced at it, recognised the man’s genuine attempt to move things forward. She let her hand linger briefly then returned to the matter of getting the children safely aboard.

Callista was soon being shown around by Ellie and Beverly’s children. Beverly invited William to join her in the ‘Owner’s cabin where she chatted about the progress of the shipping line and Ellie’s contribution to it.

“You can be proud of your daughter Mr Holst, she has proved to be an excellent contributor to this company’s success. Indeed, I am thinking of offering her some shares but we must first see how the North Sea venture prospers.”

William smiled with relief and satisfaction for it seemed his daughter had found the security and prosperity he had worried about since Henry’s premature death in the rail crash. For an hour or so they continued chatting while Callista enjoyed the tour of the ship in the company of her mother and the other children.

As Ellie led her daughter and the other children around the ship, Callista renewed acquaintances with Beverly’s brood for she couldn’t remember all the children’s names. All Beverly’s girls were older than Callista except for Angela’s baby Megan who was just toddling. The duty of carrying Megan around the ship was shared by the older girls particularly Jenny and Bea who doted on their new half-sister who had become the most recent addition their family. Callista was only a few years older than Megan but old enough to declare her independence whilst sticking close to her mother. As the group explored the ship, the re-introductions were completed and soon everybody was sufficiently familiar with each other to feel at ease. Finally Callista was told about the transgendered children Martina and Chrissie and all remnants of any ice were well and truly broken. Normally neither Ellie nor Beverly would have transgressed these boundaries but if Callista was to find any truly supportive friends she would do well to seek them amongst other transgendered children. They more than anybody else would better understand the issues Callista had to face.

Nobody knew better than Ellie how destructive and shocking it could be to have family secrets hidden away for years, so it was best if Callista knew from the very start about Beverly’s children and their mutual circumstances. Family secrets could be destructive and one day, Callista would have to know that Megan was a blood cousin, though for the present, that issue could be left to lie quietly. Learning that Beverly was her aunty had been one of the biggest shocks of Ellie’s life.

Callista was overjoyed to learn that the ‘auntie’ Beverly she had grown to love, had actually fostered children just like her and it strengthened the bond of trust and love she was already feeling for her mother’s boss. After the children had completed the tour of the ship, Callista latched on to Martina and Chrissie. When they returned to the saloon, she clambered on to Chrissie’s lap and bombarded both older girls with a host of questions; some simple, and some so complicated that even Ellie could not answer all of them. While the children chatted Angie went to join the cook in the galley to help prepare the extra meals that had been sprung on him at short notice. By seven, the whole party were sat around the saloon table with Mac, the gay captain playing host. Beverly sat at the other end while the other adults were spread amongst the chattering children. At nine pm they were reluctant to finish the party but the Speedwell was preparing to sail on the midnight tide so Billy and Mac had duties to address. Back at the office, William was reluctant to say goodbye to Beverly but the children were getting tired. As Ellie drove home, Callista fell asleep in the back and her father William took the rare opportunity to chat privately. Ellie opened the conversation.

“So what d’ you think of my boss?”

William paused thoughtfully.

“She’s a remarkable woman, I’m still trying to get my head around her life story. She also told me a little bit about
her childhood- both barrels, no holds barred! What sort of mother could abandon a child like that?”

Ellie snorted with disgust.

“Huh, you don’t have to look very far do you, try your own mother.”

William fell silent, his daughter’s words had struck home but he could not find words to condemn his own mother. Instead he returned to the case of the remarkable woman who ran the shipping line.

“By rights Beverly should be dead you know. The vast majority of people who experience that degree of abuse eventually fail somewhere in their lives; do you follow me? The trauma comes back to haunt them and they eventually give up. You know, alcohol, drugs, suicide because it’s too much to bear. To have got where she is makes her one tough lady. What keeps her going? I mean my younger brother simply disappeared, probably dead by now. That Beverly is one tough cookie.”

Ellie sucked her lip thoughtfully. The conversation was getting a bit close to the bone but it was obvious that her father still hadn’t a clue as to Beverly’s true identity. The conventional answer about Beverly’s survival was usually some trite remark about ‘for the children’s sakes’, but Beverly hadn’t even considered children until her early fifties; and even then they had been more-or-less forced upon her. Ellie was at a loss to identify any element or mechanism or circumstance that had kept her Beverly alive and sane; yes sane! The vast majority of abuse victims ended up with disturbed personalities so whatever had kept Beverly going though all the darkness would be worth a fortune if it could bottled. She ventured a nervous reply.

“Could anger or hatred have driven her?”

“She didn’t seem angry or hateful to me,” William observed, “in fact once we broke the ice, she seemed almost friendly or at least accommodating, even while she was revealing the most ghastly stuff. I presume she’s told you everything, the rapes, the child prostitution and all that.”

“Everything,” Ellie replied as the memory caught the words in her throat, “every sickening detail. You’re correct Daddy, by rights, she should be long dead, disease, suicide, drug overdose or alcohol poisoning. Just what is it that’s kept her alive?”

“I don’t know but it’s obvious she’s a fantastic mother – I mean have you seen the children? They adore her and normally girls at that age are at daggers drawn with their mothers; not wanting to be seen with their parents, constantly arguing about clothes, boy-friends, late nights and all the usual conflicts. I asked her if the children knew about her childhood and she said yes, but only recently when that older girl, Chrissie was rescued and fostered. The younger children had felt a little threatened by the sudden introduction of a disturbed older transgendered girl but Beverly seemed to get everybody through the troubles and reassure them. Her little girl Megan doesn’t know yet but she’s only a toddler.”

Her father wagged his head while still trying to assimilate everything finally he repeated his earlier conclusion.

“How she survived all that, I’ll never know.”

“She says it was that remarkable Captain on her first ship, that and some of the ship’s crew. I mean fancy just plain old merchant seamen caring more for her than the social workers ever did.”

Ellie watched her father wagging his head in some sort of disbelief or turmoil. She continued by describing why Beverly still didn't trust society.

“There weren’t any properly trained professional social workers as such in her day. Consequently she doesn’t much reckon on professional carers; hardly surprising really.”

“Amen to that!” William finished, “doctors, lawyers, wardens, police, social-workers, even judges; they all failed her - there’s nobody.

Ellie added, “well I think there are a few she trusts, mostly from when she adopted or fostered the children. She’s mentioned one or two of them briefly but I can’t remember their names.”

Her father replied hoping to edge his own agenda of educating his own mother Charlotte about transgenderism.

“I think Charlotte should meet her, if only just to show that not all transgendered people are simpering, hysterical, sex-workers.”

Ellie wagged her head and moved to scotch the idea.

“The last thing Beverly needs is to be trotted out like some performing animal just to convince a nonagenarian bigot. She’d treat Nana Charlotte with all the contempt she deserves.”

On this note father and daughter fell silent as their own thoughts occupied them. Ellie reflected upon her secret because discovering Beverly’s identity had created a huge issue for Ellie and its resolution was nowhere in sight. They pulled into the cottage driveway and Nana Charlotte met them at the door. She studied the sleeping child and smiled.

“I see she enjoyed herself – out like a light.”

“Yes, she found the ship most enjoyable, but bedtime now.” Ellie replied as she lifted Callista out of the back child seat. “Ooh she’s getting heavy.”

William reached out and took the child from Ellie’s arms and they put her straight to bed without even a bath.

“She’ll keep until morning.” Ellie rationalised.

After putting Callista to bed, Ellie went to her own living-room and avoided speaking to her Nan. By closing the door it was an unspoken signal that she wanted to be left alone. Nana Charlotte tried asking her son William but he was equally reticent to reveal that Ellie’s boss was a transgendered woman.. The secrecy irked the old lady and she became testy at being held ‘out of the loop’.

At breakfast Nana Charlotte ignored Ellie and tried to winkle some information out of Callum.

“Did you enjoy the boat Callum?”

“Yes Nana.”

“And was the nice lady there, your mummy’s boss?

“Yes Nana, they’re not boats, they’re ships.”

“Oh, ships indeed; so what’s the difference?”

“Ships are big, boats are little. Miss Beverly owns the ship it’s called The Speedwell. All the little boats, the yachts, have to move out of the way when The Speedwell arrives or leaves. The captain told me that the man who runs the harbour has to come down and shoo the little boats out of the way. If they don’t get out of the way he makes them pay a fine. The ship is very important.”

“And is she important?”

“Who?”

“The lady, Miss Beverly, your mummy’s boss.”

“She’s very nice, she’s kind to me and she lets me wear my dresses.”

Nana Charlotte was slightly taken aback by her great-grand-child’s forthrightness but she steered clear of the issue that had caused the fissure in the family.

“Oh she must be kind then.”

“She is but she isn’t posh or stuck up. Her children say she’s been very kind to them as well. One of her daughters is like me.”

“What d’ you mean?”

Ellie felt forced to interrupt for she had no idea what the children had spoken of while they toured the ship.

“Alright Nana, that’s enough fishing. If you want to know about Beverly, ask me.”

“I was only ask –“

“I know exactly what you were doing. Beverly’s an okay woman. She’s responsive to Callista because she’s got transgendered children of her own as well - two in fact. There, has that settled your prurient interest. If you want to know how she ended up with two transgendered children it’s because she adopted them. They were children at serious risk and she took them in when nobody else cared. Their own parents had rejected them or abused them.

It’s all legal and done through the social services and courts. Now stop trying to probe and poke for more information. Compared with some people, Beverly’s a saint.”

Charlotte fell silent. Never having met Ellie’s boss, she had assumed Beverly to be some sort of hard-driven harridan. The discovery that the woman had adopted displaced and disadvantaged children cast a new light on things. Charlotte was intrigued and resolved to learn more. Her problem however was getting out of the cottage and into the town of Poole. Now aged ninety two, he found driving virtually impossible and she’d given it up whilst now relying on her son William and grand-daughter Ellie to ferry her about. Her only other option was to take a taxi into town and engineer some sort of seemingly innocuous encounter. Some days later an opportunity presented itself.

Rose, Ellie’s other aunt phoned to say she was going to Bournemouth on business and could she come to visit the family in the evening. Ellie was at work and William was going into Southampton that particular morning so Charlotte swiftly arranged for Rose to meet her at the cottage in the morning and ferry her into Poole on the pretence of visiting a friend. While Rose continued into Bournemouth, Charlotte concluded she could visit Ellie at work and catch a glimpse of the woman of whom Ellie seemed so besotted with admiration.

When Rose set Charlotte down in Poole shopping district, Charlotte immediately hailed a cab to take her to the harbour area, a distance of less than a mile.

She found a small workmen’s cafe that immediately overlooked the entrance to the docks and she settled at a table in the little bay window. At lunch time a few men emerged to order sandwiches while others settled down to eat at the tables. Nana Charlotte received a few disinterested glances mainly because she had arrived early and occupied a favoured table. Nothing was said and eventually she spotted a powerful grand touring car emerging from the gate. It stopped at the traffic lights directly opposite the window and Nana Charlotte got a good view of the driver. She did not recognise the woman but presumed it was Ellie’s boss because Ellie had once mentioned that Beverly drove an Aston Martin.

Suddenly the driver noticed the woman in the cafe studying her and Beverly immediately recognised the diner.

Beverly flinched momentarily then swallowed as she recovered her composure but her reaction was masked by her having to move off as the traffic lights turned green. Further down the road she pulled into a lay-by and immediately phoned Ellie who was still at the office.

“I believe I’ve just seen my mother in the cafe where the dockers eat. When you come out just have a look in the window and tell me if that’s her. Don’t let on that I’ve seen or recognised her. My stomach churned when I realised.”

Ellie immediately closed her laptop and fumed as she drove out of the dock gates. There was no mistaking her Nana and Ellie made a point of catching her eye before pulling across the lights and parking in the small area behind the cafe. When she strode into the cafe all the dockers acknowledged her and smiled as she crossed directly to her Nan.

“What are you doing here?” Ellie demanded.

“Eating my lunch.”

“I can see that but why here, why by the dock gates?”

“I, I wanted to see you,” Nana Charlotte stumbled.

“So why not phone? I could have arranged to meet you in town.”

“Was that your boss in the Blue Sport’s car?”

“Yes. What’s your interest?”

“I just wanted to see what she looked like. See what a saint looked like; see what sort of woman adopts children like Callum.”

Ellie had to bite her lip at the intended slur on her child, then she pursed her lips as she hissed.

“What d' you mean 'children like Callum? What's wrong with Callum or more correctly Callista?”

Nana Charlotte tried to backtrack as she realised she had pierced her grand-daughter’s armour.

“No-nothing.”

“Good. I don’t think you and Beverly have much in common and I certainly don’t think she would approve of you.
She knows about your opinion of Callista.”

“Who told her?” Charlotte demanded.

“Me of course! She could tell I was upset one day – something you had said about Callista and she asked me about it. That’s when she invited me to her cottage and I met her children. The rest is history. She’s become a true friend and I count her as a supportive element on Callista’s journey. Callista absolutely adores her so I don’t want you interfering.”

“It’s not like that! I wasn’t being sarcastic or ironic. I would just like to meet her and find out why she accepts this stuff so readily. Most people of her generation, not to mention mine, have trouble with this whole transgender thing. I was thinking maybe; if I spoke to her about these children she might be able to help me with Callum. You know give me a few pointers that we older people need.”

Ellie felt uncertain how to proceed and she was deeply suspicious. If her Nana was really sincere there might be an avenue to work the whole thing through but if Charlotte was lying, just to find some leaver or weapon to try and have Callum taken away by social services then Ellie might not be responsible for what she might do to the older woman. She shuddered at the very idea that these suspicions had even entered her head and she wondered if she was getting paranoid. Angry that the stress had caused her to even think such thoughts, she made her excuses and left to join Beverly at the Yacht club restaurant.

“Look Nana, I’ve got to go, I’m meeting somebody with my boss for lunch. We’ll have to talk about meeting Beverly some other day.”

“Can you not stay for a cup of tea?”

“No. I told you I’m meeting her at the yacht club. You can’t just expect to turn up at the dock entrance and monopolise my time. I’ll see you tonight. Cheerio.”

With that, Ellie left and Charlotte ordered another cup of tea.

It was three o’clock before Ellie and Beverly returned from Lunch. From their individual cars they each spotted Charlotte still occupying the prominent front window. Having easily recognised her long forgotten mother Beverly clenched her jaw as the bile rose. In the office she confronted Ellie.

“It was her wasn’t it? Your grandmother – the bitch that spawned me! What does she want?

“I don’t know, I think so” Ellie lied.

“I know it's her! Is she stalking me? Does she know about me?”

“No! Definitely not! Well not to my knowledge. She knows about your children because Callum spoke of them and she’s just curious about you adopting transgendered children.”

“It’s no concern of hers! You can tell her that from me; and I don’t want to meet her. There’re enough issues with me and my children without inviting that bigot back into my life.”

“No!” Ellie protested. “It’s not like that; she might be coming around, she wants to speak to older people, people her own age.”

Beverly’s eyes glittered with suppressed rage as she flashed a warning glare before speaking almost in a whisper.

“She’s not my age Ellie! She’s a generation before me." Beverly poked herself in her own chest to reinforce her feelings. "This girl Beverly is not interested in that woman Charlotte or her bigotry! My answer remains a resounding NO! I’ll not meet her or talk to her, ever!” Beverly turned abruptly and returned to her desk to put some files in her briefcase. Ellie recognised them as papers to do with the new North Sea route.

“I thought you were dealing with those next week.”

“I want to get away from here and that woman! I want to clear my head so I’ve decided to start early. I’ll stay in a hotel in the midlands tonight and finish this paperwork. Expect some phone calls from me later tonight. You’d best take your portfolio of projections home with you. When I arrive in Hull tomorrow I’ll probably have a few more questions for you. I’ll be going to Hamburg next week so call me at the German office if you need me - though you're quite capable of handling stuff here without me.”

“You’re running away from this business aren’t you?”

Beverly nodded vigorously.

“Frankly yes. I want a break from it all. Don’t ever let that bitch darken the doors of this office, ever! Promise me Ellie. I just couldn’t handle her in my life.”

Ellie squinted curiously as she asked.

“Is it really that bad?”

“Yes.” Beverly replied abruptly before adding “I hate her – and you don’t have to ask why! Now, can you have the voyage tonnages for last month analysed and ready before nine tonight. I will go over them at the hotel.”

Ellie realised Beverly’s request was a ploy to avoid anymore talk about Charlotte and she left to prepare the figures off the computer and transfer them to both their laptops. The task took little more than an hour but Ellie knew Beverly was already on route to Hull. She emailed them to Beverly’s laptop so her boss could see them immediately upon arriving at whatever hotel she chose to stay.

Upon arriving at a Hotel outside Leicester Beverly checked the figures then phoned her girl Friday.

“Thanks for those. I’ll be arriving in Hull by elevenish – traffic permitting and I’ll email what new info there is up here. After that I’ll see you next Friday after Hamburg. It’ll be good to get away for a while.”

Ellie argued.

“You could simply fly over midweek instead of all this rig-ma-roll.”

Ellie heard a snort of discomforted rejection followed by a pregnant pause.

“She’s not to come near this office, d’ you understand me!”

“So it’s really about Nana then, isn’t it?”

Ellie could hear Beverly’s long deep breath as she struggled to stay calm. Finally her boss found words – harsh words.

“Of course it bloody is! I hate her – I detest her!” Beverly snapped angrily before clicking off her phone.

Ellie let go a long, disappointed sigh as she concluded the sad truth – Beverly and her mother were probably irreconcilable.

That night, in torrential rain she drove despondently home only to meet with even worse news. ~~oo000oo~~

Novel 1. Chapter 13.

As she turned through the garden gate, Ellie was mildly surprised to see that her father’s car was not in its usual place. At first she presumed he had been drafted into ‘Taxi’ duties to bring her grandmother home from Poole; Ellie had checked that Charlotte had left the cafe when she turned out of the port gates. When she stepped out of her car on arriving home however, she met her Nana Charlotte at the front door.

“Where’s Dad Nan?”

“He’s at the hospital.”

Ellie’s heart missed a beat.

“What’s wrong, where’s Calli?”

“Upstairs doing her homework.”

Ellie’s stomach sagged with relief before she silently (and happily) noted that Charlotte had used the ‘correct’ pronoun –‘her’. She then inquired further about her dad.

“So what’s happened, is dad okay?”

“He left a note on the hall table. It just says he hasn’t been feeling well for a couple of months so went to the doctor’s this morning and they sent him for tests.”

“Have you phoned him?”

“He’s not answering his phone.”

“Damn. We’ll just have to wait!”

Both women fell silent as they went into the kitchen. Neither felt like preparing food but Callista had to be fed. Ellie started to prepare some vegetables.

“What sort of tests I wonder?” She remarked to Charlotte.

Charlotte shrugged, “he didn’t say, so we can only wait and see.”

They had finished the vegetables before they heard William’s car scrunching on the gravel. Both women met him
at the door and both felt the sag of concern as they met his frown.

“Come inside,” he said softly.

The pair followed him and took the seats he indicated together on the settee. Ellie asked bluntly.

“What were the tests for?”

“William’s expression clouded as he replied.”

“They think I’ve got Leukaemia.”

Both women gasped fearfully but it was Charlotte who recovered first.

“What’s the prognosis?”

“They’re not sure yet. It’s rather advanced, perhaps too advanced for chemo-therapy, and radio-therapy won’t be very effective. They’re doing some more tests tomorrow then they’ll know a lot more and decide what’s best.”
The mood around the meal was somewhat forced as all three adults tried to appear normal for Callista’s sake. After she went to bed the adults resumed discussions at length. There was insufficient information to make any plans or preparations and the three of them fretted nervously as each struggled to find the right words to describe their worst fears. Eventually, for want of hard facts, they all made their separate ways to bed. Ellie broke down in tears in her father’s arms.

“What’s the worst case scenario Dad?”

He whispered uncertainly.

“It’s quite an aggressive cancer. I’ve only been feeling the effect for a few months. I should have checked my tiredness and fatigue out earlier. I’ll know more tomorrow when all the tests are back.”

“I want to know immediately. Phone me at work.”

With these words she stumbled to her bedroom while William paused to watch his only daughter as she turned and disappeared into her room. A feeling of utter failure enveloped him as he realised that in a few months at best, his only daughter might be orphaned if his treatment failed. It just wasn’t fair after all the hurt his daughter had suffered with the loss of her mum! Rage and fear accompanied him to bed.

The following morning after a subdued breakfast they parted as Ellie took Callum to school and William returned to the hospital; the news was not good. The specialists advised him that the success of the therapies they offered might prove ineffective because he had left it so long. Being told that men often left it too late did not improve William’s mood as he phoned his daughter.

“So what therapies are they offering dad?” Ellie pressed.

“They say a bone marrow transplant from a matching donor is the best option but they will start with chemo therapy until or unless a suitable donor is found. My sibling sisters are the best option being as I haven’t got a brother. Apparently a ‘same sex’ sibling is the best genetic potential match then opposite sex siblings then Mum - but she’s very old and her marrow might not take. Failing that it’s you or your cousins and basically they’re my only hope from any genetic matches. They can search the donor banks but those are much longer odds.”
Ellie cursed silently as she considered what she knew.

‘Should she approach Beverly or not? Would Beverly agree? Would she refuse to disclose her identity and possibly agree to it anonymously?”

Her silent thoughts caused her father to ask anxiously.

“Are you alright dear? There’s plenty of hope at the moment. They are starting the chemo-therapy next Monday.”

“They say chemotherapy can feel worse than the cancer. You’re in for a bloody rough ride dad.”

“Well for the moment it’s my only option though Radio therapy might bring some benefit. They all agree though that a bone-marrow transplant is the most effective treatment so we’d better get the family organised.”

“Yes Dad. I’ll phone the aunts now.”

Ellie slowly put her mobile in the charger and stared thoughtfully at Beverly’s door while cursing that her boss was in Germany. Then she started phoning around. Despite their ages, both Aunties immediately volunteered to donate bone marrow if the matches proved acceptable. Ellie sighed as she contemplated phoning Beverly then she decided to grasp the nettle firmly.

Firstly she went on-line and researched the issues but it kept coming back to the same conclusion. Same-sex, full-blood siblings usually offered the best hope and were usually the first option to be approached by the doctors. After returning constantly to the same result, she snatched her mobile from its charger and dialled her boss.

The phone was answered almost immediately and Ellie silently gave thanks that Beverly was such an efficient business-woman. In Germany, Ellie’s name popped up on Beverly’s mobile.

“Hello, Ellie, what’s the problem?”

Ellie’s stomach sagged with relief as she recognised Beverly’s voice and she silently gave thanks for the benefits of the mobile phone.

“Hello Miss Beverly, yes it’s Ellie, uuhm, there’s nothing wrong; well not with the business anyway.”

Ellie paused and Beverly immediately picked up on her hesitation.

“Go on. I can hear the ‘BUT’ in your thoughts even here in Germany! What’s happened?”

“Uuhm, it’s family.”

“Well go on love, don’t be shy, you know I don’t bite. Are you looking for time off or something, can it not wait until I get back?”

“It’s not that sort of urgent, I can quite happily keep running the office. No, it’s my Dad.”

“What about him?”

“He’s seriously ill.”

“What’s wrong with him?”

“He’s got cancer.”

“Oh dear, what’s the prognosis?”

“It’s Leukaemia, they are trying chemotherapy and radio therapy but they are not very confident that these will be successful. They say as a last resort he might need a bone marrow transplant but even that is not certain. They will need a close tissue match.”

The long, pregnant silence on Beverly’s end told Ellie that her boss had already worked out the issues and it was obvious that Beverly was considering them. Ellie waited silently, afraid to provoke any contention. Eventually Beverly replied.

“I’ll have to be the last resort as a donor; I owe none of that family anything – except you of course. Try everybody else in the family first.”

Ellie was mildly shocked at Beverly’s seeming disinterest but accepted that Beverly’s emotional scars ran deep.

'Nearly sixty years of rejection would leave a hole the size of a bomb crater in anybody’s psyche. Even after meeting with William, Beverly still seemed determined to keep her brother and indeed all her siblings at ‘barge-pole’ length – never mind ‘arm’s-length’!
.

Ellie mused sadly.

‘She must have been a very lonely person all through her seagoing years. No family to come home to, then forty odd years without a single person to call a friend until she met Billy and Mac – and they are more business partners than friends. Yes, a life of rejection could leave deep scars, that and the transgender thing. I’ll have to tread softly here.’
Ellie thought on, ‘and work out how we’ll keep Beverly’s identity a secret.’

The weekend proved to be a nightmare as the family rushed frantically to organise the potential donors ready for the marrow tests the following week. Fortunately, Beverly had returned from Hamburg and Ellie was given time off to accompany her father to the hospital. The only positive thing to come from the first meetings was that Ellie was appointed her father’s carer and that enabled her to have unrestricted access to the specialists, even to the extent of having private consultations while her father was undergoing treatment.

For weeks Ellie watched her father suffering the effects of chemotherapy until it became too painful to bear. He lost his hair; he was constantly vomiting and steadily losing weight. The treatment wasn’t working and the consultant’s expression told Ellie this when she next went to see her.

Her auntie’s bone marrow samples offered some hope so this option was the next and as far as the doctors were concerned, the last hope. When the transplants failed Ellie was finally forced to approach Beverly.

“My auntie’s samples were a partial match and they tried transplanting them but it’s no good. Unless you can come up with something, then Dad’s only got a few months at best.”

Ellie watched Beverly staring thoughtfully at her desktop before she looked up frowning over the screen.

“I’ve got to remain anonymous. I want nothing to do with them do you understand.”

Ellie sagged with relief as Beverly elaborated.

“If – and it’s a big ‘IF’, my bone marrow matches, you’ll have to explain to those consultants that nothing gets back to the family. They can lie about the donor’s identity but that’s not my concern, - Doctor’s are used to lying in my experiences, - they can pretend I’m just a donor from the national marrow bank, they can do whatever it takes but I do not get to meet the family and they don’t learn of me, right?”

“Right,” Agreed Ellie, “and thank you.”

Beverly’s lip twitched momentarily and Ellie was convinced it might have been the hint of a smile but it quickly turned into a thoughtful frown that Ellie could not interpret.

Beverly nodded slowly.

“Okay then, you’d better go and explain the deal to the doctors. It’s my way or the highway. There’s to be no whisper of my existence. Go on, phone the hospital now and explain everything but No Names and no pack-drill.”

Ellie needed no further encouragement and within two days, she and Beverly were in the consultant’s office.

“So Miss Taff, your companion has told me of your circumstances and I must confess I’m shocked at your story.”

Beverly gave the doctor a long intimidating glare.

“Firstly doctor, Miss Ellie is NOT my companion and secondly, we’re not here to talk about me, just take a sample and see if it’s any use.”

“Yes indeed, haste is of the essence, I’m only sorry you didn’t come earlier but now I can understand why.”

Beverly nodded, “Just get on with it. The sooner I’m out of here the happier I’ll be.”

The consultant turned to glance askance at Ellie but she just shrugged. She was just relieved and glad that her auntie had agreed at all.

With the mood set, Beverly’s blood and tissue samples were harvested and proved to be a far closer match than her sisters. When the consultant returned she was smiling.

“This gives me hope. If it’s any reassurance Miss Denton, I can assure you that your companion is, or should I say was, certainly once your father’s full genetic blood brother – and if it’s any further reassurance, her gender correction will not affect the match.”

Ellie frowned slightly as Beverly sniffed with some slight amusement then explained.

“Firstly Doctor, and I’m warning you that I’ll not repeat myself again!! Miss Ellie Denton is not my companion; she is my ‘girl Friday’ at the office. She is also a widow to The Right Honourable Henry Denton deceased and her son is the only male heir to the duke of Denton. Ellie simply works for me and my shipping line.”

The consultant apologised and paused before proceeding. The following morning Beverly and her brother were prepared in separate theatres and by noon William had received the requisite implant of bone marrow. Some days later the consultant simply failed to tell the whole truth when she was able to tell William and the family that the donor’s tissue had worked and it looked as though the procedure might be successful. William’s blood count had improved.

The following week Beverly returned to work to find a huge bouquet of flowers from Ellie on her desk.

“Why these are lovely Ellie! You didn’t have to go to this length you know.”

“Yes I did, you’ve probably saved Dad’s life. Let me put them in the vase.”

In the kitchen, after arranging the flowers, Ellie also made a pot of tea and laid out some of Beverly’s favourite chocolate digestive biscuits. She joined her boss on the other side of her ‘partner desk’ and grinned. Her eyes glistened to betray Ellie’s feelings.

“I can’t say a big enough thank you but the flowers are just a token symbol. Thank you again for saving dad.”

Beverly shrugged and frowned thoughtfully.

“I’m not ready for anything to do with my relatives just yet, and I’m not sure I ever will. Just make sure they don’t know.”

“It's your choice auntie. I totally understand.”

And there the matter would have lain except for a blunder in the records office at the hospital.

Some months later, when Ellie’s dad was attending a follow-up consultation the consultant was called away while William was actually sitting in her office. He noticed his file sitting on the desk and casually picked it up to skim through it. He had no issues with the treatment because it had proved successful and he was now in remission but sheer curiosity drove him to take a peek. One unattached small page titled ‘donor match and comparison factors’ slipped out of the file onto the floor so William picked it up. The single page had two columns of information with matching numbers and other details and small notes written against them. Unfortunately at the bottom of the page there were a list of relationships comparing the recipient and donor and the pertinent box simply had the word ‘sibling’ followed by a question mark penned in a different hand.

William looked at it and frowned. He knew perfectly well what sibling meant and it didn’t make sense. His sister’s tissues had proved unsuitable so what did the word ‘sibling’ mean. In line with Beverly’s wishes the consultant had left the donor name box empty but obviously some other specialist had innocently endorsed the relationship box when transcribing details. William could see that the word sibling was in different ink and handwriting from the rest of the form.

When the consultant returned William was holding the form; it was after all his file. The consultant frowned slightly and William picked up on the woman’s discomfort as she asked.

“Is there something wrong Mr Holst?”

“I’m not sure doctor. I just noticed this donor form that fell out of the file and somebody has written the word sibling followed by a question mark in the box marked ‘relationship if any’. Can you explain it?”

The woman was nothing if not quick thinking and she came up with the observation that was actually plausible.

“Well the quality of the match is remarkable as you can see by the ticks and comments. So much so that it could resemble the match of a sibling and the haematologists were curious. Obviously one of them must have wondered and put the question mark against the box marked ‘relationship’”

William’s ears perked up.

“D’ you think it could be a sibling. I had a brother once but he went out of the family when he was only a child – a very young child.”

Alarm bells were ringing in the consultant’s head as she realised the page had revealed too much. Once again she tried to cover up without saying an outright lie.

“Well it would be a remarkable coincidence because the odds are astronomically small. There’s nothing in the file to suggest it.”

“Who was the donor?” William pressed.

Here the consultant was on firmer ground.

“I believe she was an anonymous donor. Apparently some donors give to the bone marrow bank but don’t want their identities revealed. I believe the donor who supplied your implant was one of those.”

“She?” William pressed.

“I believe so.”

“Is there any way I could locate her, just to say thank you?”

“If she wishes to remain anonymous I’m afraid not. The marrow-bank is very strict about that, just like the sperm bank.”

William slumped back in the chair for he had reached a dead end. However when Ellie next came to visit him he raised the matter.

“I saw my file on Tuesday in the consultant’s office.”

“Oh, good. I hope the news is good.” Ellie replied.

“Well yes – mostly – but sort of ‘no’ as well.”

Ellie paled slightly but William quickly reassured her.

“No, no. It’s good news as far as the bone marrow transplant. It seems the transplant has worked and my blood count is nearly normal again. I should be out in a week once I’ve recovered my strength enough to be mobile of my own accord.”

Ellie sighed with relief then wondered about the ‘sort of’. William had asked his consultant for a photocopy of the ‘donor match report and he motioned to the drawer of his bedside locker.

“In there, there’s a copy of the donor match form, have a look in the relationship box.”

Ellie took out the photocopied report and frowned as she pretended uncertainty before remarking.

“It says ‘sibling’ and then there’s a question mark.”

William’s eyes lit up hopefully.

“Don’t you see? One of the haematology team is purported to have made that comment and questioned the relationship of the donor to me. Apparently all those ticks and matching numbers are more than something of a coincidence.”

“Have you spoken to the haematology team?”

“No. I want to speak to a geneticist when I get out of here. I suspect my consultant and her team are trying to hide something.”

“Why would they do that? You’re one of their success stories. If anything I should think the consultant would want to announce it from the roof-tops.” Ellie argued, fearful of her father’s acute perspicacity.

“So why would the donor want anonymity? William pressed. “Most people are more than keen to meet the donor or recipient if only to savour the results of the donor’s good deed or offer the recipient’s thanks. It’s not like sperm bank donors where men might be fearful of paternity suites. Apparently this donor was a woman and yet my own full blood sisters didn’t match. I’d dearly love to meet the woman, can you approach the donor bank authorities and try and persuade this donor to come forward?”

Ellie did some quick thinking and offered a seemingly plausible reason for the donor wishing to remain anonymous.

“If the donor was your brother he might want to remain anonymous because he’s got a disease or he’s got psychiatric problems or he might be an alcoholic, homeless tramp. Who knows? Just be thankful the tissue matched.”

“If he had those sorts of problems, I know that I and my sisters would welcome him back into the family with open arms.”

“What if he turns out to be gay or something? Wasn’t that the reason Nana got rid of him?”

William wagged his head.

“I don’t care what mum thinks, I would desperately like to meet him and your aunties would.”

Ellie nodded but said nothing more. She changed the subject to after-care arrangements once her father came home. Her father ‘pooh-hooed’ Ellie’s concerns.

“I won’t be an invalid darling. Once my blood is normal I’m cured, I’ll be back tending the gardens and mowing the lawns again. I’d just love to find out why that donor was such a close match, closer even than my own sisters. If the haematologist was questioning the connections and I might still have a long lost brother out there then there’s a remote possibility that –“

Ellie tried to ridicule the idea.

“Oh come on Dad, what are the odds of that happening? It must be millions to one! Your own brother listed on the Bone-marrow records? D’ you honestly think that’s likely. Besides, the consultant said it was a woman.”
William raised a questioning eye-brow.

“Oh yes, and my little brother was transvestite, or transgendered, or at least, Trans-something. That much I've recently learned from my sisters. He might easily have changed sex. The fact remains the haematology team must have wondered enough to put the question-mark in the box. My brother might still be out there. If he is trans-sexual or something, that’s a good enough reason for his wanting to keep it all very anonymous.”

Ellie could find no more arguments without raising her father’s suspicions. Fortunately she was saved by the visitor’s bell curtailing her stay. Outside the hospital she studied the flimsy photocopied page and debated ‘losing’ it accidentally before concluding her father could easily get another one copied from his file. Losing it would only increase her father’s suspicions. The simplest solution was for her to tell her auntie Bev and trust to luck. After all, even if her father did learn of the blood connection he would still have no right to invade Beverly’s privacy.

The following morning was quiet in the office and Ellie spent as much time on her personal lap top trawling through the bone-marrow websites as she did actually working for Beverly. Her efforts threw up no solutions. Auntie Beverly had not registered with the national bone-marrow donor bank and if Ellie’s father went looking he would get more suspicious if he found no name. The answers to her cautiously sterilised online questions came back without once indicating Beverly’s name. Ellie hadn’t expected them to for she knew that Auntie Beverly had donated bone marrow directly to the oncology department at the hospital. This had been one of her tactics to keep her name a secret. There was no alternative but to bite the bullet and she broached the subject while she made their coffee.

The coffee break was not some menial drudge for Ellie it actually demonstrated to the other girls that Ellie did have a special relationship with the boss, a higher status no less. However, none of the girls had learned that Ellie and the boss were blood relatives. Originally their shared coffee break had been a time that they spent chatting over any items of any unusual nature or future business plans but recently it had come to include the occasional family stuff – usually where it concerned Callista. It was an ideal time for Ellie to reveal the identity issue. As she sipped her coffee she cautiously revealed the facts.

“I’ve got a bit of bad news Auntie Bev.”

“Oh, nothing serious I hope.”

“No but it involves dad and his treatment.”

“Oh, go on. I thought it was all okay.”

“Well – it is, but.”

Beverly pulled a wry expression then grinned.

“There’s always a ‘but’. Go on.”

Ellie was relieved that her auntie seemed in a good mood so she plunged in.

“It seems there was a blunder in the hospital. My father got a peek at his medical records.”

“Well that’s not unusual; he can demand to see them legally anyway.”

“Yes but there was a form concerning donor comparisons. It slipped out of the file during the consultation and my father read it while the consultant was called away.”

Beverly lips tightened as she already anticipated what was coming.

“So he knows who the donor was.”

“Not directly, the hospital cancer and oncology departments are not to blame; they hadn’t identified you on the form but some anonymous haematology specialist had been checking the form and he’d suggested that the unknown donor might be a sibling. He’d written ‘sibling’ in the donor identity box then put a question mark against it because the tissue matches were so alike. Dad saw this and pressed to find out who the donor was.”

“And did he find out?”

“Uuuhm, not yet but he asked me to check with the national donor tissue bank.”

Beverly frowned as she followed the facts.

“And of course, I’m not on the donor register, which will ring alarm bells in William’s brain.”

Ellie nodded.

“He’ll be bound to refer back to the oncology department to ask where the donor bone marrow came from; especially with the word ‘sibling’ written right across the donor identity box.”

“Well I could register with the bone bank today and you could give me a copy of that flimsy from your dad’s file.
They’ll accept that at the bone bank.”

“That could work, except that Dad knows who Beverly Taff is. If he goes trawling through the records he’ll surely find you.”

“Use my old boy name and put me down as ‘No fixed abode’.” Beverly suggested then added. “The national data base is kept in London anyway so Bernard Holst could be living anywhere.”

Ellie agreed and because things were slack at the office, Beverly gave her the afternoon off to go and speak with the oncology department. The following morning Ellie came in brandishing a new copy of the tissue match plus a letter from the Head of haematology confirming other information that would confirm Bernard Holst’s fraternal relationship with William Holst. The information was enough for Beverly to register with the bone bank. Normally the tissue bank would not accept older donors but because Beverly had already been a successful donor, and the tissue type already analysed, her registration was accepted.

The following week Beverly’s male name was placed on the register of donors. The only snag was the date which post-dated William’s tissue transplant at the hospital. There they had to trust to luck and hope that any inquiries by Ellie’s father would be satisfied that Bernard existed but was untraceable because of the ‘no fixed abode’ label.
A few weeks later when William had recovered enough, he told his sisters about the unusual tissue match. Ellie had not made allowances for her aunts’ tenacity and several weeks later both the sisters and their brother spent a long weekend in London as they inquired at the bone bank. Because the family already had the essential details surrounding the tissue match and because William had been a beneficiary of a bone-marrow transplant the bone-marrow tissue bank was prepared to allow him some partial information concerning the donor.

Because the tissue match was identical to William’s; and the blood relationship was virtually a proven fact, the tissue bank was prepared to confirm that the tissue match was almost definitely from a sibling brother and they did confirm that his name was Bernard Holst Bernard’s identity was all they were prepared to divulge and they absolutely refused to reveal the ‘mans’ location because the donor had expressly declared his wishes not to be traced. The bone bank handed a slim file of Bernard’s details that apparently only confirmed that the tissue donor was William’s full blood brother and little else surrounding his identity except the name Bernard Holst.

The donor’s wish for anonymity cut no ice with the aunts and they re-embarked upon their search. The simple fact that they now knew their brother was still alive was enough to re-galvanise their endeavours to find him. Every possible agency in Britain was contacted and used if it might prove useful. After several months of extensive searching their efforts produced nothing, mainly because Bernard had spent many years abroad working for foreign shipping companies.

It was during the onset of Christmas that the two sisters finally made their essential breakthrough. They were preparing cards and generally organising a Family Christmas to be celebrated at Ellie’s cottage so family preferences and information was being generally revisited. The two sisters Sandie and Rosie were sitting with their brother William and their mother Charlotte generally discussing the case of their missing brother.

“Whatever motivated him to become an organ donor?” Sandie wondered.

“Well lots of people do you know,” Nana Charlotte allowed.

“What; d’ you mean through a sense of philanthropy or something?” Rosie replied.

“Well that or a dozen other reasons. I mean, lots of people carry organ donor cards.”

Nana Charlotte dismissed Rosie’s observation but the two sisters Rosie and Sandie were on a narrower wavelength as they followed the thread of their reasoning.

“Maybe Nana, but he would have hardly had cause to become a philanthropist and it takes a special type of person to take the deliberate step of actually donating a tissue sample and offering themselves as live donors. I mean if there’s anything our brother would have become it would more likely be some sort of dysfunctional cynic based on what little we’ve learned of his childhood.”

Nana Charlotte fell silent. The reference to her son Bernard’s ensuing years after he’d been placed in the Psychiatric unit was an observation that caused her no small sense of guilt. It was William who made the next constructive step that started to unravel the mystery of the donor’s location.

“Well all I can say is that he must live abroad or something, I mean all our efforts have come to nothing.”
Sandie bit her lip thoughtfully.

“Well if he does live abroad, he must have visited the UK sometime to have donated the tissue sample – and why return to Britain to make a donation? I mean the bone banks are all connected and they share the tissue details. You sometimes hear of the suitable donor being located in Australia or Canada after emigrant cousins are contacted.”

“The bone bank in London didn’t mention if the tissue match came from abroad or when it was originally donated. We could ask them if they are prepared to reveal the date at least. Then if it was donated here in Britain we’d at least know he isn’t living abroad.”

“Hold on,” Rosie paused, “isn’t the donation date in the file?”

“I don’t know,” William conceded, “I never thought to check.”

Sandie got up and went to her brother’s bureau that stood in the alcove beside the fireplace. She pulled out the file and opened it as the others watched.

“If there is a donation date it will at least give us an idea. We might be able to check flight records or immigration statistics if he came back to London to make the donation.”

She studied the couple of sparse pages and eventually found a date written in a box tucked away at the bottom of the last page. The family had been so intent on tracing a name, they had never thought to look more closely at the other pages that seemed to list very little other information.

“Ah! Here we are. Donation made on June the twentieth, twenty thirteen. So he could have been in the country just last year if he donated it in London.”

Even though she had actually read out the date, Rosie still hadn’t realised what she had seen but William immediately picked up on the date.

“That’s not possible. That date was after my diagnosis. In fact it was after I was declared in remission.” The year must be wrong.”

Rosie handed the file to William who carefully checked for any other dates. Eventually he wagged his head and repeated.

“No. There are no other dates. Here it is again on this tissue report, same date, June twentieth twenty thirteen.”

“But that would mean he donated tissue after you were given the transplant. That’s not possible!” Sandie protested.

“No; it’s not!” William agreed. “There’s something not right here. Why didn’t you check the dates before?” He asked his sisters.

“We had no cause to. We were searching for his identity and where he was; not when he was here.” Sandie replied.

“Well wherever he was and whenever he was, there’s something fishy,” Rosie declared. “The tissue could not have come from the tissue bank AFTER you were treated.”

“You are so right,” William agreed. “I’m going to speak to the consultant after Christmas. I’ll try and get some sense out of her then.”

“We should speak to the Bone bank as well. They’ve got some explaining to do.” Sandie added.

William and both his sisters nodded thoughtfully as each digested the implications. The tissue had been confirmed as their younger brother’s but the rest of the situation simply didn’t add up.

They were preparing supper when Ellie returned home from a riding day at Beverly’s country farmhouse and riding stables. Callista was worn out and it was all she could do to stay awake as she stumbled sleepily into her grand-pa Williams’ living room to bid everybody good-night. After hugs and kisses all around she plodded upstairs and was sleepily crawling into bed when Ellie arrived with cocoa and a biscuit.

“Did you enjoy today?”

“Yes mummy. Will I be able to have a horse when I’m older?”

“If you’re still interested yes.”

They chatted briefly and Ellie smiled as moments after finishing her night-cap, Callista was fast asleep. Down stairs Ellie rejoined the ‘olds’ and quickly realised they were getting closer to discovering Beverly’s identity.

“Are you still wondering about your long lost brother?” Ellie asked feigning disinterest.

“Yes, wouldn’t you like to meet him?” Sandie asked.

“It’d be nice I suppose,” Ellie replied, “but I’m not going to lose sleep over it. If he doesn’t want to be found, what’s the use of searching? Even if you did find him, he doesn’t seem to want to be bothered by you. He might even take a restraining order out on you if you do actually find him and go bothering him. I’d let it drop.”

“Well I won’t.” Sandie declared.

“But why?” Ellie pressed. “It’s not like you can bring back all those lost years.”

“You don’t understand Ellie. I owe him an apology. I never meant for it to go as far as it did.”

Ellie snorted derisively.

“Oh come on Auntie Sandie. How in God’s name can you ever apologise for what was done to him. You’ve told me that nobody from the family ever saw him again, I mean – come on! Anyway, if anybody owes him an apology it’s Nana Charlotte.”

Grandma Charlotte stayed silent but the guilt was clear for all to see as she stared ruefully at the floor. Ellie stared at her for it was hard not to condemn her grandmother, especially from what she knew of Beverly’s story.
The worst part was remembering not to accidentally reveal some unknown fact if she became angry by what the ‘olds’ were discussing and it seemed that Auntie Sandie was getting obsessed with the idea of locating her brother. The secret surrounding Auntie Beverly was becoming a troublesome burden for Ellie.

The following morning was Monday and aunts Sandie and Rosie were up early. Ellie was mildly surprised to meet them in the larger communal kitchen as she and Callum arrived to prepare their breakfasts. Normally Ellie and Callum were up and gone to school and work before her dad and Nana were up.

“Oh hello, are you off home then?” Ellie asked.

“No, we’re going to the hospital. There’re some things that need to be cleared up about William’s tissue samples.”

“Are you still bothering about all that?” Ellie asked somewhat irritably. “If the man doesn’t want to be contacted then I’d let the matter drop. He might end up getting you arrested for harassment or something. Dad’s better, the cancer’s cured, let the matter lie is what I say.”

“It may not bother you little niece but there’s guilt issues to be settled for me,” Sandie confessed. “I never meant for it to go so far and I’ve spent a lifetime trying to trace him and put it right. To come this far and get so close is just too much to bear. I have to apologise to him and try and put things right.”

“So what happens if he’s some sort of alcoholic tramp?” Ellie played devil’s advocate. “Are you going to invite some crazy, resentful, old tramp into your home – your life even? I’d let the whole thing drop before it grows into some uncontrollable family row or something. How d’you think Nana would take it if you found him? You could see she was uncomfortable about it last night.”

“I’m not responsible for mum but I want to try and clear my conscience. Besides, there’s the matter of dad’s will. There’s still another few years before the codicil expires. Mum could do with her share of the monies before she passes. It’s not fair on her.”

“Or you,” Ellie replied sarcastically, “I supposed each of you would like the will to be settled. So what happens if he does turn up and demands his rightful share? Besides, Nana does alright living here. She’s got everything she needs and she’s well cared for.”

“Well whatever happens, I just want to find my brother. Wouldn’t you seriously like to meet your uncle, if only to see what he’s like?”

Rosie nodded affirmation to Sandie’s query but Ellie just shrugged.

“I think you’re digging up a real can of worms but if you want to go poking around then I can’t stop you. Anyway, I’ve got to get to work.”

Ellie and Callum finished their breakfast and left but when she arrived at the office she immediately warned Beverly.

“It’s getting a bit tricky. Auntie Sandie desperately wants to make amends.”

Beverly gave a short ironic laugh.

“Ha! How?”

Ellie shrugged.

“I don’t know. I tried to dissuade her but she’s got some bee in her bonnet about it.”

“Well if she comes near me, she’ll get short shrift.”

“What would you do?” Ellie asked.

“Oh nothing stupid. I’d just take out an injunction.”

“But that would put me in an unenviable position; piggy in the middle and all that.”

“I don’t see how. They still think they’ve got a brother don’t they? Even if they do find me they’ll be expecting a man. Bernard Holst and Beverly Taff are not connected except by my own personal documentation and they won’t be getting any sight of that.”

“What about the court records and stuff, the deed poll documents?”

“There’s no record in the courts darling, Beverly grinned. That’s the beauty of the British system the deed poll is only pertinent to the people with whom I have official dealings, my doctor, the bank, the driving licence authority, the local council tax authorities. They are bound by the new confidentiality and information laws. If Sandie and Rosie do get through all that red tape and then try and put you on the spot, I’m hoping your girl enough to stand up to them. All you have to do is tell them I want nothing to do with them.”

Ellie stiffened her resolve.

“It would be easier if you did try to reconcile with my aunts and my father. Auntie Sandie’s wracked by guilt.”

“If I did that, there would have to be some sort of compromise with the bitch who spawned me and that cannot ever be. Sorry Ellie, that’s the final word.”
Ellie nodded and trudged dejectedly into her office. There she buried herself in the freight and fiscal figures for the weekend. At eleven, she was pleasantly surprised by Beverly bringing her the coffee instead of the usual routing.

“Don’t judge me too harshly darling,” Beverly asked, “I’ve got my own demons to wrestle with.”

“I know Auntie Bev. It’s just that I’m something of an idealist and I somehow think of a reunion as being a celebration.”

“Too much water gone under the bridge darling and it’s pretty poisonous water at that.”

Beverly glanced over her glasses and wagged her head slowly.

“Does it really stress you?”

Ellie frowned thoughtfully.

“My aunts won’t think much of me if they learn I’ve been keeping this big secret from them. Auntie Sandie’s spent years hunting for you. It would make me look like some sort of cruel bitch if she learned I had been toying with this business for years.”

“They don’t have to know that you know about me. It was only an accident that you learned about Bernard from Billy and Mac. Nobody else in the office knows.”

Ellie grinned.

“That would work. That would be my final ploy if they did discover you.”

“Let’s leave it at that then. Let them do all the searching but we’ll keep shtum.”

Ellie sighed deeply and resumed her analysis until the Speedway docked that afternoon. It was always a delight when the Philipino captain Jessie entered the office and Ellie had his favourite coffee ready as Beverly joined them to debrief the voyage. At five o’clock, Jessie’s wife and children appeared to collect their dad while Ellie left to collect Callum.

When they arrived home Ellie found Auntie Sandie in a buoyant mood. She had spoken to the hospital management about the incongruent chronology and the consultant had agreed to meet her on the Wednesday. That night, as the ‘olds’ discussed what questions they should ask, Ellie feigned a head-ache and stayed in her own apartments. It was all firmly in the lap of the gods now.

Wednesday found Ellie’s dad William and her Aunt Sandie sitting in the consultant’s office as the lady placed the pertinent files on the desk. After exchanging pleasantries Sandie wasted little time in determining the truth.

“At the tissue bank in London they confirmed that the tissue donated was definitely my sibling. The DNA tests we paid for removed all doubt. Would you be prepared to reveal the donor’s location and how you came by the tissue because you came by it without recourse to the tissue bank’s resources? They deny all connection with the donor at the time of the tissue transplant.”

The consultant wagged her head firmly but made one fatal flaw in her answer.

“The donor was adamant that her identity must not be revealed.”

Sandie and William turned to glance at each other as Sandie picked up on the feminine pronoun.

“Her identity!” Gasped Sandie. “Are you saying the sibling is now a woman?”

The consultant silently cursed as she realised her blunder too late.

“Ahem, yes. The donor presented to me as a female.”

“Well if, as the tests show, it was still my sibling; I must conclude then that my only other sibling must have undergone a sex change.”

“I know nothing of that Mr Holst. All I can say is that I interviewed her in this office and the tissue sample I personally took from her was an almost perfect match. It would seem that the DNA test you had done would confirm what I believe to be perfectly probable. The lady who sat in that very chair was and indeed still is your sibling and if your only full blood remaining sibling was your brother then this individual who came to me I might add, was once your brother and is now, for all legal and practical purposes your sister. Now that is all I am prepared to say. The lady wished to remain anonymous and I must, as a matter of medical ethics, respect her wish. I do not wish to comment further as the lady was quite adamant about her wishes.”

William and Sandie sat nonplussed for some moments and their silence prompted the consultant to add.

“I would like to point out that your treatment and procedure proved to be very successful. Surely, that being the case, you can respect your sibling’s wishes?”

“We would still like to find him, sorry her!” Sandie finished.

“Might I be so bold as to ask why? The donor seemed to be quite distressed when I asked her why it had to be anonymous.”

“Did she not explain?” William asked.

“Only briefly,” the consultant replied. “Apparently it had something to do with her childhood but she wouldn’t elaborate further than that.”

“So you are confirming you knew she was a sibling.” Sandie charged. “Isn’t that a bit unethical, not to tell us before doing the transplant.”

“No. I have to respect my patient’s wishes and she was adamant about her anonymity. I could not break that confidence. The tissue proved a perfect match so there was nothing unethical about my using it. You and she both gave consent.”

“And what about our wishes? Surely you must have realised we would have wished to meet her?” Sandie accused.

“As the recipient Mr Holst, you never expressed a wish to meet the donor so I did not breach any confidentiality issue for you. However! The donor did specifically express a wish and I abided by that wish. I have not broken any law.”

Sandie paused thoughtfully then asked.

“How did you find her if she wasn’t on the tissue bank register?”

Here the consultant knew she was on safe ground.

“I didn’t find her; she came to me.”

“So how did he – sorry she – know about William’s cancer.”

“I can’t answer that. I have no idea how she found out.”

“But she must have found out somehow.” William persisted.

“Of course she must have but I don’t know how she did.” The consultant stood, indicating the visit was over.

“Is there nothing more you can tell us?” Sandie almost begged.

“Yes,” the consultant confirmed, “sadly there is more to tell, but I would be clearly breaking the confidentiality rules if I told you. Now I’m sorry, I have another patient to see.”

William and Sandie found themselves outside the hospital and sitting in the car summarising their information.
William observed wonderingly.

“If this donor went voluntarily to her with the offer to donate tissue there are three issues. Firstly she knew herself or himself to be my brother Bernard, secondly somebody must have told her or thirdly she must have found out because she lives around here and either read about it somehow or knows somebody who knows me”

Sandie took the reasoning forward.

“Well she obviously knows herself to be Bernard because she knew that before mum put her away, more importantly she knew about you and your cancer so she must know about you or know somebody who knows you, because you’d only just moved here a few months before you had cancer. Not many people know you anyway.”

“Enough to make searching a nightmare. What do you suggest?” William replied.

Sandie was staring down the street as she had a brainwave.

“Wait a minute! If this person was Bernard and is now a woman that mean’s she’s transgendered. She might well be active in or known to the local LGBT community!”

William grinned effusively.

“D’you know, you’re right. Maybe we should try the local tranny scene.”

Sandie frowned at the brother.

“I wouldn’t use that term when we’re looking bro’. It’s quite an offensive word to some transgender people.”

“Well whatever, the most important thing is to start looking immediately before people’s memories fade. She could have already moved on by now.”

“She probably has. It’s been a few months now.” Sandie reflected despondently.

“We can only try, let’s get on line.”

Thus decided, both brother and sister drove home to immediately search the internet for local LGBT activities and venues in and around Poole.

Inevitably their researches threw up a small hotel run by an entrepreneurial lady called, of all things, - Sissy. Sandie and William grinned to each other as they put the establishment down on their list of potential sources and continued through the evening to select any others that offered some potential.

The following weeks found both sisters and their retired brother trawling the various gay clubs, bars and hotels hoping to find some clue that would break the logjam. Then one warm spring evening, their perseverance paid off. They had learned from Sissy’s hotel website that her establishment ran an LGBT support meeting twice a week on Wednesdays and Saturdays. The Wednesdays were essentially just social evenings where LGBT individuals could meet, chat and share any information or links associated with their needs and lifestyles. The Saturdays were dance and partying nights.

The three siblings realised that if they plunged in and started asking questions about any transsexuals who might have recently moved to the area or any other unusual questions, the local community would become suspicious. Many transsexuals were living in ‘stealth’ mode and would not thank any invasive questions about themselves or their friends. Using different tactics the two sisters Sandie and Rosie pretended to be a lesbian couple while William implied that he was beginning to realise he might be transgendered and was cautiously seeking any transsexuals who might consider advising him or even mentoring him.

These disguises served their purpose and William eventually managed to gain Sissy’s confidence and trust. One Wednesday evening they were chatting about SRS surgery and how to take William’s circumstances forward. William was guiding the conversation around to transgender lifestyles and pressing Sissy for advice about how to ‘come-out’ to family or friends. As they chatted, Sissy was describing her own experiences when William’s sisters arrived and joined the pair. Sissy already knew that William was friends with the lesbian couple but he did not know they were siblings. They were quietly nattering away when Sissy suddenly glance at her watch.

“Oh! I’ve got an old transsexual friend coming in tonight; I’m going to meet her because she’s bringing two of her older daughters with her. She adopted them many years ago and they’re up at university. Now her and the girls’ story is a remarkable tale, I’ll bring them in to meet you. She’ll also be able to answer some of your questions about transitioning later in life. Excuse me while I get ready to meet them at the reception desk, I’ve got a couple of private things I want to chat to her about first.”

William, Sandie and Rosie nodded and continued discussing the problems they were having in trying to find the mystery donor. Eventually they heard Sissy greeting some people in the foyer and they waited expectantly for several minutes before Sissy re-entered with her friends. William was sitting in a high-back armchair with his back to the door while his sisters looked up and smiled at the newcomers. Sissy innocently started to introduce them and the mood was amiable until Beverly recognised her older brother William. Immediately she put up her guard as her smiled became fixed and cautious. When William stood up and turned to face the newcomers, he frowned uncertainly.

“Haven’t we met before?”

Beverly decided not to try and deceive anybody because if they got to chatting, her daughters Jennifer and Beatrice might inadvertently reveal too much. She replied with the bare truth as she offered her hand and William shook it.

“Yes, your daughter Ellie works for me. You came to the office with her and your grand-daughter. I’m Beverly Taff and these young ladies are my adopted daughters Jennifer and Beatrice. You’ll remember they took Callista around the ship.”

“Ahh! Yes. I’m sorry I’ve got a terrible memory for names and faces. The lady with the ships.”

“The same,” Beverly smiled tightly as she extended her hand to Sandie and Rosie.

“And you ladies are?”

“William’s older sisters, Sandra and Rose.” Sissy introduced them.

It was a remarkable sign of Beverly’s cool-headedness that she did not flinch or jerk as she shook their hands.

“I’m very pleased to meet you.” She added as she noticed the flicker of emotion pass between the women. The reaction sent alarm bells ringing in Beverly’s brain and she quickly tried to move the conversation on.

“So are you staying with Miss Ellie at her cottage?”

Rosie replied because she realised her sister Sandie was finding it hard to suppress her excitement.
The sisters had a naturally familial empathy and Rosie had ‘picked up’ on Sandie’s mood.

“Yes. We are sharing with our brother William. Apparently our niece has become a little disenchanted with her aunts and she requested that we sleep in William’s spare bedroom. Her spare room was being decorated, or that’s the excuse she gave.”

“Oh I’m sorry to hear that.” Beverly replied through gritted teeth as she wondered why Rosie should have revealed such an un-necessary private fact. Families usually kept their differences ‘in-house’.

“Yes,” replied Sandie as she picked up on where her sister was going.

“Yes, she seemed quite discomforted these past few weeks while we’ve been staying. We’ve been wondering what seems to be worrying her.”

Beverly could feel the meeting becoming more inquisitorial with every word as she searched her mind for any plausible excuse to take her leave.

“Is she having problems at work?” Sandie pressed.

“Uhm, Not that I know of. Has she mentioned anything?” Beverly threw back.

“Well she seems to have something on her mind.” Rosie added.

“I can’t say I’ve noticed at work. She works very well though she did mention her dad being very ill.”

“Yes,” William added. “I was diagnosed with Leukaemia.”

“But you’re obviously better; Ellie mentioned that you had recovered.”

“Yes thank you.” William replied.

Alarm bells were already ringing in Sandie’s brain as she was making the connection between Sissy’s LGBT hotel and the obvious friendship between the transgendered hotel owner and Ellie’s boss Miss Beverly. She quickly landed on a strategy to find out if her suspicions were true.

“It’s a lovely little hotel this, is there some sort of special function going on tonight?”

Sissy nodded as she replied without realising.

“Yes, it’s our monthly transgender evening. They meet in the little function room downstairs. It’s a bit more private and intimate than the main saloon.”

“Oh. That’s nice. We had heard that this was a gay friendly hotel and we’d also heard it was a very good place to eat.”

“Well if you’re thinking of eating, you’d better reserve your table now. In an hour or so all the tables will be taken.”

“Oh. Could we book one now, I know it’s short notice but we’d like to try it.”

“I’ll check with my chef, he runs the restaurant.”

So saying, Sissy went down stairs leaving William, Sandie and Rosie facing Beverly and her oldest adopted daughters Jennifer and Beatrice.

“Sissy seems to know you well?” Sandie probed.

Beverly could sense the hidden question but decided to brazen it out. She certainly had not expected to find her older siblings at the hotel and she had already had suspicions. She told the truth.

“Yes. Sissy and I go back over ten years. She proved very supportive and helpful when I was starting out down here in Poole. We’ve been firm friends ever since.”

“She seems a bit elderly to be running a hotel this size.” William observed.

“It wasn’t this big when I met her. She’s got an adopted daughter called Jessica who does the spadework now. Jessica was the one who organised the annex and she more or less runs the place now. That’s why we’re here. It’s Jessica’s birthday next month so my daughters Jenny and Bea are helping to organise the party. Sissy’s getting on now and too frail to be dashing about buying cakes and stuff. Ah, here’s Jessica now.”

Beverly turned to extend her arms as a tall slender girl stepped into her arms.

“Hi Auntie Bev, hi Penny, hi Bea. Nice to see one of the original girls here. Are you staying the night?”

“Not sure yet babes, depends how the night goes. Have you got any spare rooms?”

“We’ll be staying!” Jessica and Beatrice interjected. “We’ll be catching the early train to London in the morning and it’s more convenient from the hotel.”

Jessica nodded then turned to William and his sisters.

“Are you staying over? If you are you’d best book now, we’re nearly full with the trans-girls.”

“Oh, it’s not a gay function then?” Rosie asked.

Jessica shrugged easily.

“Not downstairs.” There are several gay people in the saloon and that will fill up later but I and my transgender friends will be downstairs. Will you be coming down later Auntie Bev?”

Beverly smiled easily but hid her discomfort well. She could not blame Jessica for inadvertently exposing her transgenderism because it was no secret in Poole. In fact, Jessica’s ‘Auntie Bev’ was now as well known as her adoptive mother Sissy. And she had come ostensibly to attend the trans-girl night. Jenny and Bea had accompanied her simply to enjoy the company and stay over to catch the early train. Beverly had already arrived at her suspicions for her siblings being at the hotel so she had decided to brazen it out. If her revelations caused any issues, they would be of Rosie and Sandie’s making.

“Yes Petal. I’ll be down shortly, has Sissy gone down?”

“Yes, I’ll ask her to reserve your favourite seat while I organise some tea for you and your friends. My treat.”

Beverly turned toward her siblings and smiled.

“Would you like to share some tea?”

Sandie, after having now learned of Beverly’s transgenderism, was almost bouncing with conviction. As Jessica left to organise the tea she turned to Beverly and pretended surprise.

“Is that young lady right? Are you a transgendered girl?”

“Yes.” Beverly replied feigning nonchalance.

Rosie, having recognised where her sister Sandie was trying to go, decided to soften the approach.

“Well, Miss Beverly! You surprise me, I would never have known.”

“Well it’s true,” Beatrice replied – ready to defend her mum. “She adopted us after rescuing us as children.”

This snippet of information did not divert Sandie from her path and Sandie’s singular tenacity alerted Beverly as she brazened out the anticipated inquisition.

“So you were born a boy then.”

At this, Jennifer jumped in to defend her mum from what she thought might be some salacious inquiry.

“No! Mum was born a girl but with the wrong plumbing.”

“Okay, I understand that,” Sandie countered, “but you were registered as a boy by the authorities.”

“Sadly yes.” Beverly affirmed.

Once again, Beatrice sensed that there was an agenda on Sandie’s table and she intervened on her mum’s behalf.

“Might I ask what your interest is in my mother’s past?”

Sandie decided to take the plunge.

“Because young lady, I believe your adoptive mother might be our long lost sibling. I believe she was formerly known as Bernard Holst. Our maiden names were Holst before marriage and indeed, our brother, William’s family name is still Holst.”

Beverly’s previous name was no secret to Beatrice and Jennifer and they gasped as they turned to their mother. As young adults they had recently learned of their mother’s ghastly childhood and the knowledge had only strengthened their ‘mother/daughter’ relationship. Jennifer felt it was her turn to take up the sword on her beloved mother’s behalf.

“Mum! Are you okay with this? You’ve always hated what your family did! D’you want them to leave?”

Beverly placed her hand gently on her adopted daughter’s wrist.

“No darling. I was anticipating this the moment I met my sisters - and they are my sisters. I’ve known William was my brother since Ellie brought him and her daughter Callista down to the ship. Ellie and I have known about our blood tie for some time now.”

“Ellie!?” Beatrice demanded with surprise.

“Yes Ellie,” Beverly continued. “She and I have known we were aunt and niece for over a year - nearly two in fact.”

As Beverly sensed a rising tide of antagonism concerning her niece Ellie she shrugged then made her feelings abundantly clear.

“This has got to be sorted so now’s as good a time as any. There will be no arguments or shouting and no accusations but there has to be resolution!”

For long moments there was a stunned silence as the others assimilated Beverly’s words. Finally it was William who broke the silence as he confirmed Beverly as the tissue donor.

“So it was you who donated the tissue? I think my daughter’s got some questions to answer!”

Beverly sniffed dismissively.

“Yes. To your first observation and no to your second.”

“But why did you want to remain anonymous? Why didn’t my daughter tell me?”

“I would have thought that was obvious!” Beatrice interrupted angrily before adding, “Mum wants nothing to do with you.”

Once again Beverly gently gripped her adopted daughter’s wrist.

“Steady on darling. You’re right to be angry but let me handle this.”

“But mum! They treated you like some sort of vermin! Surely you don’t want anything to do with them. Are they just ‘gold-digging’ now you’ve made something of yourself?”

Sandie stood angrily but Beatrice simply loomed over her and stepped between her adoptive mother and her new-found adoptive auntie.

“Don’t you dare try to get physical with my mother!”

“I had no intention of getting physical. I’m twelve years older than your mother but I object to you accusing us of being ‘gold-diggers’! I demand you take that back.”

“I will when I’m assured you’re not!” Beatrice riposted as she sat down again.”

Beverly decided to calm things down.

“Listen! Nobody’s accusing anybody of anything. I will bluntly say here and now that I wanted nothing to do my family and to William I say this also. Ellie has NO questions to answer. It was her who finally persuaded me to consider donating tissue. Without her beseechments on your behalf brother William, you would be dead now.”

“I think Ellie should be here now Mum,” Jenny interjected. “If any of these siblings have any accusations, Ellie should be here to defend herself.”

“Ellie has nothing to defend.” Beverly re-iterated. “It was her who told me about William’s cancer, it was her who persuaded me to donate and it was her who arranged everything anonymously. I was hoping to remain anonymous but blunders elsewhere precluded that. Anonymity was my abiding wish and Ellie has struggled manfully to preserve that anonymity. It’s no fault of hers that this mess has come to be.”

“But why d’you call it a mess?” Sandie cried. “We’ve been searching for you for decades just to apologise and try to make amends. I never ever realised it would go so far! Now we’ve found you, there’s at least the chance to put some things right if not all.”

Beverly made a wry face as she demanded.

“What needs to be ‘put right’ as you put it? From where I’m standing, there’s nothing much wrong with my life these days. Why should I allow you into my life?”

Sandie slumped back slightly aghast and paused before she could reply..

“Well – we, the family, we’d like you back. I know my children would love to meet you.”

“And mine,” Rosie added.”

“But what about ‘the-bitch-who-spawned-her?” Beatrice demanded. “Our mum detests her, and rightly so!”

The fact that Beverly did not correct her daughter this time made it abundantly obvious that the issue surrounding Nana Charlotte was not resolved. Beverly still hated her.

Sandie and Rosie both fell into a thoughtful silence. Finally the older aunt spoke cautiously.

“You don’t have to meet mum. Surely you can meet us half way and simply agree to accept us into your life again without accepting her. I know it’s been a long time but that’s not for the want of our trying to find you.”

“You couldn’t have tried that hard,” Jennifer bristled. “Mum’s old name is not all that common and since the internet it’s become a lot easier to find people.”

Beverly interrupted her daughter.

“It wasn’t all that easy for them darling. Don’t forget for many years I was working abroad; foreign ships and foreign countries. There’s was absolutely no record of me working ashore because I’ve never actually worked in the UK proper as Bernard Holst for the last – what; thirty – thirty five years. It would probably never have occurred to them to search for a Bernard Holst on the register of merchant shipping and seamen, especially all those years ago.”
Jennifer and Beatrice turned in unison to protest.

“Oh come off it mummy! Are you trying to make excuses for them?” They don’t deserve your kindness!”

Beverly stood up and squeezed her adopted daughters affectionately.

“Now girls, I recognise that you are trying to protect your old mum from any perceived gold diggers or fortune seekers but be assured, my will is already written. These people will get nothing now or when I shuffle off my mortal coil. Besides, I’m not ‘gaga’ yet, please credit me with some sense.”

“I still don’t trust them mum,” Beatrice persisted.

“Nor I!” Jennifer concurred. “Beware of Greeks who bear gifts.”

“What gifts do they bring save those of reunion and familial ties?” Beverly shrugged.

“Leopards don’t change their spots – nor do families. I don’t trust them Mummy.” Jennifer persisted.

“You’d have to keep them on probation Mum.” Beatrice added as she sensed her mother might be wavering. “Run it by Ellie first and have her confront them. Ellie’s the only one I trust because she proved her loyalty before she knew you were her blood. What’s more, Ellie’s proved beyond all doubt that she’s not transphobic. Callista is living proof of that.”

“Yes,” Jennifer agreed, “let Ellie confront your mother with the evidence of your existence. Nobody is better placed to gauge Nana Charlotte’s reactions and attitudes.”

“No!” Beverly replied quite forcefully. “Ellie’s born enough of a burden regarding this business. My siblings can tell their mother. Ellie’s got a long enough row of her own to hoe- namely rearing Callista.”

Beverly challenged her brother and sisters with a hard stare that left no doubt that the unpleasant task was to fall squarely upon their shoulders. She finally added.

“You can tell ‘the-bitch-that-spawned-me’ that I still exist and you can tell her I want nothing to do with her. I don’t suppose she’ll care anyway. I won’t.”

“Is that your final word?” William asked. “Are we to be rejected as well?”

“I didn’t say that. I have to run the idea past my friends and family. I have a wife let’s not forget and we are a tight knit community up at Rosy Cottage. Besides, I want a chat with my psychiatrist friend to check what pitfalls might ensnare me. Resurrecting old issues of guilt or fear might damage me – set me back. If there’s one thing I’ve learned it’s that nobody ever escapes their early years. Opening old wounds might prove disastrous. Don’t call me; I’ll call you – via Ellie.”

~~oo000oo~~

Heir to a Title Chapter 14

Ellie had been food shopping prior to picking up Callista from her dance classes and the storm had sprung up while she was waiting in town.

The wind was almost shrieking like a banshee as Ellie finally made it home to her cottage. The lanes had proved to be a nightmare as small branches broke off in the wind and blew against her windscreen. Her car crawled fearfully down the lane to avoid larger broken branches and Ellie fully expected one of the larger boughs to come crashing onto her car. Instead of reading her book, her daughter Callista had to add her eyes to the task of spotting dangers in the road. Finally they made it home. After parking away from the larger trees and close to the dense privet hedge as a wind-break, she concluded it was safe to emerge.

She cursed as the wind caught the car door and yanked hard at her arm as she struggled to get out. Eventually she regained control and she offered the house keys to Callista who squirmed and wriggled across the gear column to the driver’s side towards her mother. The child did not have the strength to hold her own door so she was exiting from the driver’s side while Ellie struggled to hold the door.

“Go and open the front door darling, it’s sheltered by the porch, my hands will be full.”

Callista dutifully took the keys and one small bag of groceries before crossing the parking area to attend to the door. Ellie watched her leaning into the wind and she smiled as Callista finally made it to the porch and got the front door open. After a struggle to close the car ‘driver’s door’ Ellie managed the ‘fifth’ door and gathered the rest of the groceries before picking her way to the front door of her cottage. There Callista stood braced against the wind to hold the door open. Despite the benefit of the stone porch, Callista was straining to hold it open as the wind swirled and eddied around her. She then had to struggle to close the door as Ellie squeezed past her.

“You’re getting slow mummy,” she grinned as she wrestled with the door behind her mother.

Ellie was still struggling to put down her handbag, and the other bag of groceries made heavy by a four litre plastic bottle of milk.

The wind shook the front door and tried to swing it violently shut but Callista finally closed it and calm returned to the hallway..

“You try running in heels young lady.” Ellie smiled back as she recovered her composure while Callista stood dripping water.

Peace and calm returned to the interior of the house as mother and daughter grinned at each other

“Thanks for that darling. Phew! That’s some storm.”

They stood briefly recovering their composure until a disembodied voice called from the living room.

“Is that you darling? We’re out of milk.”

Ellie wagged her head incredulously then frowned wryly as she took the milk out of the grocery bag and handed it to Callista.

“Take that to him first and ask why he couldn’t have gone to the shops.”

Callista understood exactly what her mother was driving at as she finally shed her anorak and shoes before taking the milk.

“Grandpa’s hopeless at shopping isn’t he?”

“Amen to that darling,” Ellie agreed, “tell him to make a pot of tea while I sort my mail.”

A few minutes later, grandfather, daughter and grandchild where sharing a hot drink around the kitchen island.

“Where’s Nana?” Ellie wondered.

“Taking a nap, I’ve got something to tell you.” William replied.

Ellie put her mug down expectantly.

“Good news I hope.”

“Sort of;”

He glanced at his grandchild Callista and suggested she get on with her homework. Once the girl had left he continued.

“We’ve learned who the donor was. The blood match was what gave it away”

Ellie stiffened slightly.

“Oh, and?”

“Well I’m a little hurt you deemed it best kept a secret. I mean he’s my brother for heaven’s sake!”

“I didn’t decide to keep the truth a secret daddy. Beverly did and I don’t think she’d take kindly to you calling her your brother.”

William was so pre-occupied with his own concerns he failed to take Ellie’s point.

“D’ you think he was right not wanting to meet us?”

“It was her choice. Who am I to judge? She’s got reason enough to hate us all.”

“Your aunties and I confronted him.”

Ellie glared as concern furrowed her brow.

“I hope you haven’t queered my pitch for me job-wise! If you’ve upset her I won’t forgive you!”

“Not at all, he is very fond of you isn’t he?”

“Yes, and I’m very fond of her.”

“Fond enough to betray your aunties and let them continue thinking they would never find him?”

“Yes!” Ellie replied defiantly.

Her father bristled slightly then pressed on.

“Fond enough to let your Auntie Sandie continue searching like a fool when you knew exactly where to find him?”

“Her!” Ellie corrected her father. “You’ve used the wrong pronouns every time up until now! Please get it right!”

“Oh all right then. Sorry; her. I confess I’m still coming to terms with her gender change. But that’s not the issue here; the fact is you still favoured a complete stranger over your aunties.”

“She’s hardly a complete stranger is she? She’s just as close to me by blood as Auntie Rosie and Auntie Sandie.

In fact, if you want to split hairs she’s actually closer by blood to me. She’s the only perfect blood match to you and you’re my father!”

“She was still a stranger to the family. Your aunts firmly believed she was dead, just as I did.”

“Well she’s not a stranger to me. I’ve known her as my boss for nearly two years now and over a year as my auntie Beverly. Listen daddy! You’ve got no right to criticise me.

Firstly, consider how many times I’ve seen my aunts before this business blew up. I’ve only ever seen them about ten times in my whole life! I see Beverly every day I’m working, so who are the strangers to ME?

Secondly; try criticising that evil mother of yours. It was her that threw Beverly out like some piece of rubbish; it was her that made Beverly into a ‘stranger’ as you put it! Of course she was a stranger, she had no bloody choice and yet she’s actually closer to me by blood than either Auntie Rosie or Sandie!!! Your treatment proved that, so how can you call her a stranger?! Beverly went through hell as a kid, and you know it!”

Her father pursed his lips with frustration. In his heart he knew his daughter was right. Considering his sister Beverly’s life story, it was hardly likely she would ever have come looking for a family that had, in her eyes at least, rejected her out of hand. Ellie continued on a slightly more conciliatory note.

“Listen daddy, I’d love to confront my grandmother with it but I respect Beverly’s wishes. She is adamant she never wants to meet her.”

William frowned.

“If Mum found out about Beverly, God knows what it would do to her.”

“Whatever it did to her, she’d deserve it and much more!” Ellie glared.

William decided not to take the argument further for he was old enough and wise enough to realise there was nothing to be gained and a lot to lose.

“Well that’s water under the bridge now. The upshot is your aunts and I have decided not to tell mummy about her, there’s no knowing what it might do to her. Are you agreeable to keeping it a secret from your Nan?”

“Do I have to be? The truth is I’d love to tell Nana. Just think how much she has frightened Callista with her narrow-minded censures! In truth, I’d love to hit Nana right between the eyes with Auntie Beverly’s story; then refuse to tell her that Beverly is my boss at work, refuse to say who or where the tissue donor is – just tell Nana Charlotte that the child she tried to destroy, the child she disposed of like some piece of rubbish, the kid she threw under the bus, the child she utterly rejected is very much alive and kicking – and kicking hard I might add! Oh – and the child she threw out like some piece of kitchen garbage is now a very wealthy lady!”

“It could still kill your Nan!”

“Not that monster. She’s never once expressed remorse or regret.”

William sighed wearily.

“Look darling, you’ve every right to be disgusted by what was done all those years ago but for our sakes and Callista’s can you please let it go? Callista’s going to be hurt enough when her Nana goes.”

Ellie frowned. Nana Charlotte was in her nineties. Her death was an issue they would all have to face and it would devastate Callista. Reluctantly she agreed. After finishing her tea she bathed Callista then bathed herself before settling down with her daughter for a girly night of pampering. William found them painting their toe-nails.

“Nana’s awake. Are you coming in to see her?”

Callista needed no second asking but Ellie paused until Callista had left the room and was out of ear-shot.

“Can you promise me Nana knows nothing about ‘you know who’?”

“Absolutely nothing,” William affirmed.

“Good, we’ll chat about Callista’s day at school and the dance class afterwards.”

“And what about your day?”

“That’ll be boring. I was processing cargo numbers most of the morning then sorting out bunkering and victualing figures in the early afternoon before going shopping. Not much to interest anybody there.”

“You could talk about the ships.”

Ellie shrugged. “Okay, an hour no more, I’m tired and so is Callista.”

They trooped into Nana Charlotte’s apartment and chatted for the requisite hour. Callista thoroughly enjoyed the time but Ellie found it hard to accept her grandmother since learning of her Auntie Beverly and the lost childhood. She was polite and informative but left much of the conversation duty to her father and her daughter. She was glad when the hour was up and used the excuse of Callista’s bedtime to escape further drudgery. When she left Nana Charlotte turned to her son William.

“Ellie seems pre-occupied somehow. Not talking much and a bit distracted.”

“I’m surprised you noticed mother. Yes she was, I think she’s very busy at work and there’s this new North Sea trade.” William lied but it worked.

He remained watching the television with his mother for a further hour then made his own way to bed.

The following Monday, Beverly had returned from a trip to Hull concerning the North Sea trade. Ellie met her at the station and they returned to the office in Ellie’s car to analyse some figures. As they swept through the dock gates Ellie recognised her father’s car parked at the dockers’ cafe opposite the docks. Inside it she saw several people but she was concentrating on driving. She turned to her Auntie Bev.

“That’s dad’s car and those are my aunts with him. I suspect he and my aunties want to talk to you.”

“What about”? Beverly replied. We’ve little to talk about.”

“I suspect they might want to talk about your dad’s will. You should have plenty to talk about, you chatted well enough to William the last time he was here and I know the will has to be resolved. You were happy then.”

“That was different; it was all about a day out for Callie. I suppose this time they’ll want to talk more about family and reconciliation.”

“And you’re still not interested I suppose.”

“I’ve told you before darling, they’re dead to me. We have nothing in common save a few drops of blood.”

“And that’s your final word is it?”

Beverly shrugged as they pulled up outside the office.

“It has to be darling. You know as well as I, that they’ll try somehow to reconcile me to the bitch that spawned me.”

“And?”

“Never! Never, never, never.” Beverly’s jaw clenched tight and Ellie noted the tensioning muscles that caused two white spots on her auntie’s cheeks.

There seemed no way past the impasse and Ellie was content to accept the situation but almost by divine intervention, her phone bleated away right on cue. She pressed the ‘blue-tooth’ button and turned ruefully to her auntie.

“This’ll be them.”

“I know,” Beverly nodded. “If they want to come over tell them only them; no mother! I won’t countenance the b-“

“Bitch that spawned you.” Ellie finished.

Beverly frowned and fell silent as Ellie checked on her mobile. It was set to ‘public’ so Beverly could hear the conversation. Nana Charlotte was not with her father and aunts so Ellie offered the invite. It was accepted immediately and moments later her father’s car pulled up outside the office alongside Ellie’s car. Ellie met them at the door.

“You’d best come into the inner sanctum,” Ellie offered then added softly, “we don’t want family laundry washed in public.”

Other staff’s eyes followed them as they followed Ellie through the administration offices into Beverly’s private office. Beverly was starting the tea.

“No biscuits I’m sorry unless Ellie’s got a secret stash.”

“I’ll borrow some from the girls in the freight office and I’ll replace them tomorrow,” Ellie said as she disappeared.

“You’d best sit down.” Beverly said as she nodded towards the comfortable settees. “So to what do I owe this visit?”

“We’ve come to discuss our father’s will.” Sandie opened the conversation.

Beverly squinted suspiciously.

“Ellie tells me he died years ago, how come there’s stuff to discuss? I thought I told you I wasn’t interested.”

“The will has to be dealt with and he mentioned you in it. If it’s to be processed properly, his wishes have to be fulfilled.” Rosie added. “Now that you’ve been found we can move forward and seek closure.”

“Me? Found!” Beverly sniffed contemptuously. “Uuuhm, might I point out I was never lost.” She continued in a voice tinged with mild sarcasm.

“You were to us and dad’s lawyers.” Sandie countered.

Beverly shrugged.

“Well now that you’ve ‘found’ me just go ahead and sort the will. I don’t need or want his money or whatever. Why does it have to involve me?”

Rosie produced the will and explained.

“You would have to sign your part to finally complete the probate.”

Beverly gave a loud snort and grabbed a black pen from her desk as she held it up and asked.

“I suppose you’ll want it in black ink – legalese and all that?”

Rosie nodded and stood waiting while Beverly remained standing as she scanned the pages. The silence became oppressive and Rosie felt forced to speak just to reduce the tensions.

“Dad wasn’t happy with what was done to you.”

Beverly glanced up and her expression soured as unwanted memories resurfaced.

“He had a funny way of showing it. No objections to my being taken, no visits, no letters – six bloody years – no nearly nine years of waiting and waiting and waiting; but nothing, nada, zero! So why involve me now? If there’s anything coming to me I don’t want it. It’s blood money! What was he doing? Trying to ease his conscience; he was a bit late for that! He was no better than the bitch he married!! Tell his lawyers to give it to Ellie or something. Just progress the will and be done with it.”

“It’s not that easy,” William replied.

“Why not?” Beverly argued. “I can easily send his lawyers a letter, proof of identity, and proof of existence then surely the blood tests will confirm our relationship. Job done, you get to close the will. Everybody moves on.”

“That’s the easy part,” Rosie explained. “The problem is if the will is fulfilled then mummy will learn of your existence. She’ll want to see you.”

Beverly released another harsh laugh.

“Ha. I’ve told you, never, never, never!”

William tried more reconciliation.

“I’m sure if we intercede on your behalf, she’ll come to see sense.”

“Ooooh, I doubt it,” Beverly sniffed, “and anyway! Even if she did; I’d never want to see her. Just try and understand; I don’t bloody care! I never want to see her!”

“That news might hurt her, shock her even.” Sandie observed.

Beverly let out another loud contemptuous expostulation.

“Ha!! So? What d’you expect me to do? Are you seriously expecting me to care?”

“Don’t you care about her at all?” Sandie pressed.

Beverly gave her an old-fashioned look.

“Get real big sister. How many times do I have to repeat myself? The ‘bitch-that-spawned-me’ can rot in hell for all I care! You’re only here on my sufferance because Ellie wants this business resolved. I’m only doing it for Ellie. I don’t want to hurt her, she’s too good to lose and besides; I’ve grown very fond of her. She is my niece after all.”

“You’ve got other nieces,” Rosie replied somewhat ill-advisedly.

Beverly just glared at her then wagged her head in disbelief. However she managed to repress her anger and returned to reading the will. A strained silence settled on the room as Beverly scanned the several pages. Finally she signed it and handed it back to Rosie then she explained..

“I might as well sort out the lawyers now.”

Over the phone, arrangements were made to finalise the will and Ellie helped to compose the letter to the lawyers. The lawyers called back to confirm that they wished to meet Beverly and that irritated her. They seemed to think that because Beverly wanted no part of the inheritance, there might be some question about her sanity. When she realised what they seemed to be insinuating she told them bluntly that she would meet them in her office down at the dockside. This was mainly to show them that she was a woman of substance and repute with no psychiatric disfunctionality stemming from her gender change.

By confronting them on her own turf she would leave them in no doubt as to her existence, her sanity and her circumstance. Furthermore it was where Beverly kept her personal documentation in a secure safe, in a secure office in a secure port area. She was a busy woman and she had no intentions of traipsing around half of Southern England and yet again proving to various bumptious little officials that she actually existed. Those days were over.

Two weeks later the formalities were completed but the ramifications continued.

As Rosie had predicted, their mother, on learning that her ‘son’ was still alive, expressed a wish to see him.
These wishes arrived in a shaky, hand-written letter that Ellie handed to Beverly after sorting the regular mail. Beverly glanced at the handwriting and failed to recognise it.

“What’s this?”

“That’s grandma’s writing. I guess it’s a letter from her.”

Beverly’s jaw sagged slightly before tensing.

“What! The bitch?”

“The same.” Ellie felt forced to agree with her auntie Beverly but she continued in a calmer mode by asking. “Are you going to read it?”

Beverly held the letter up between forefinger and thumb obviously in two minds while Ellie waited hopefully.

Eventually she handed the unopened letter to Ellie.

“You read it. Tell me what you think, I can’t trust myself.”

Ellie took it and briefly scanned the address. The shaky hand told its own story. Ellie explained.

“I think she wrote this herself, dad would have told me if she had asked for his help and she didn’t ask for mine. She’s very frail you know. You can tell by the wri-”

“Just read it please, then you decide if it’s worth my while.”

Feeling mildly scolded Ellie opened the letter and was surprised at its brevity.

“Dear Bernard,

Firstly I must admit I was upset but not surprised to learn of your sex change. However, I was very much surprised -and shocked, to learn that you survived to adulthood despite all the forecasts and predictions that were given to me so many years ago. Your new name Beverly is a good name.

I realise there is nothing I can say or do to repair the damage I caused you. All I can do is offer an apology for what was done to you and also for whatever happened to you in the subsequent years. Your brother William has made it abundantly clear that you can never be reconciled and truthfully I cannot blame you for your intransigence. Since learning of your life story and survival I have been at a loss as to what I should do.
I will not insult you by asking for forgiveness nor will I beg you to meet with me. William has also convinced me that would be the unkindest slight of all.

All that remains to be said is that I am truly sorry for everything that was done and I am relieved to learn that you have survived. I am also glad to learn that you have prospered.

The only request I have is that you help to mentor and guide your great-niece Callista by passing down whatever survival skills you accrued during your life’s journey, she will need them despite the modern-day social circumstances surrounding transgenderism having changed so much.

I am also truly glad that you love your niece Ellie.

Yours regretfully,

Charlotte Holst.

Ellie handed the letter to her aunt who read it then returned it to the envelope without a word. Ellie felt forced to say something.

“Well she could at least have signed it as Mother or Mummy.” Ellie remarked.

“Oh I don’t think so,” Beverly wagged her head, “she at least had the wit to realise she had no right to call herself my mother, that would have been the biggest insult of all. She knows enough to realise I will never meet with her and that’s how it shall remain.”

That was the moment when Ellie realised that Beverly would never be reconciled. The realisation brought a chill to Ellie’s soul as it drove home the brutal message that childhood rejection left the deepest and enduring wounds of all. Ellie sighed as she stood with resignation.

“So Grand-dad’s will can be sorted then – and Grand-ma’s got no objections to my receiving your share.”

Beverly grinned.

“She has no say in the matter, and I’ve no idea what your father and aunts might feel but technically my share is mine to do with as I want. I’m bequeathing it to you so nobody can accuse you of gold-digging. Nobody can accuse you of taking advantage of some dotty old lady because I can prove beyond all doubt that I’m compos mentis. I’ll have my lawyer sort out my part of the family’s inheritance and the best tax avoidance arrangements for you or Callie, whichever you prefer.”

“Why would anybody accuse me of gold digging?” Ellie fumed. “I certainly am not! We neither of us had any idea we were related when I took the job. I used my husband’s name only for Callie’s sake that’s why we never realised the connection. Now I keep it for convenience especially where it concerns Callie’s inheritance of the title. It’s to do with the dukedom and all that stuff.”

“That’s nothing to do with me darling,” Beverly smiled benignly, “but I think young Callie is going to be a very rich young lady one day. By the way, what will happen to her title if she decides to transition? Can a girl inherit a dukedom?”

“What? Sallic law and all that stuff; that’s a totally different question,” Ellie grinned. “Let the lawyers and politicians sort that out. I think the new act of royal succession for George and his sister will have thrown Ancient Sallic law into turmoil.”

“Yeah, oh how the world turns.” Beverly grinned.

And turns and turns and turns,” Ellie finished.

Foam party. Not just a writer.

~~oo000oo~~

Heir to a Title. Chapter 15.

After the will was sorted the situation in the Holst family more or less settled down to an uneasy truce. The monies owed to Beverly were duly devolved through Ellie to Callista and this action finally convinced the Holst family that Beverly was truly ‘not interested’ in any issues or affairs either material or emotional concerning her siblings and mother.

A filial link was however maintained between Ellie and her aunt’s daughters and grand-children.

Being much younger than the grand matriarch Charlotte and the aunts, Charlotte’s grand-daughters and great-grand-daughters were much more liberal and open about the transgender issues. More importantly, they were intrigued and excited to learn of their long-lost and heretofore unknown transgendered aunt. They were even more intrigued to learn that they had a new full blood cousin; the baby Patricia from Beverly’s union with Angela.

Consequently the younger relatives were often to be seen meeting Ellie and Callista in Poole during weekends and occasional visits to the dock to see one of the ships.

All the Holst family were forced to accept that their Aunt Beverly would never reconcile her hurts with Nana Charlotte and the situation was simply a fact of their family life that would simply have to be endured and accepted.

On the other side of Callista’s family, the Dentons were beginning to see more and more of Callista as the new North Sea trading route came to occupy more of Ellie’s time. She was spending two and often three weeks every month in the Humber office.

Most mid-week nights, Ellie stayed in her city-centre flat in Hull. It gave her the essential privacy she needed to address the complex issues of developing the service whilst pursuing new business wherever and whenever she should find it.

Callista’s family circumstance had been turned through one-eighty degrees as she now began living at Denton Hall full time. This meant she was never far from her mother Ellie in Hull and if either mother or daughter missed one another, it was an easy drive for Ellie to bridge the gap. Most weekends Ellie and Callie played catch-up. Callie only went home to Dorset for the odd single week each month and also during the school holidays.

Molly, the duchess of Denton, proved to be an excellent carer for her transgendered grand-daughter.

Consequently Callista’s life became almost idyllic especially after learning that her mother was happy for Callie to attend the local junior school in the village of Denton. Ellie’s main reason was to ensure she was always close to hand in case any gender issues arose.

This argument sufficed to subdue Molly’s objections because she was not exactly enamoured of the idea of her transgendered grandchild, the future Duke of Denton, attending ‘The local ragged school’. However, when Callista’s academic results appeared at the end of her first year, she gracefully capitulated.

When she saw the exam results she became a much calmer woman. That Friday afternoon, as she and Ellie drove ‘home’ to Denton Hall, she admitted her change of heart to Ellie

“I was just so worried about her being abused by the village children, firstly if somebody discovered she still had the wrong plumbing or alternatively because she is already an Earl or possibly even a countess. Fortunately she seems to have them eating out of her hand and as for her exam results, well the marks speak for themselves. I don’t know how Callista does it.”

Ellie smiled self-consciously then grinned widely.

“Well mummy, I think her genes might have something to do with it. Her father Henry; that is your son, was the only one of your brood to make it to Oxbridge and I was also the only one to do it from my side so I think that might have a lot of bearing.”

Molly returned Ellie’s grin as they turned into one of the back gates of the estate and picked their way along the little used driveway that took them through the woods. Suddenly a figure on horseback appeared galloping amongst the trees.

“Oh! There she is now coming between the trees. Shouldn’t she still be in school?” Molly cried.
Ellie nodded and explained.

“Yes but Harry arranged to collect her early now that school’s broken up. Look at how she rides. She loves that pony.”

Molly smiled as they pulled up and Callista trotted her mount alongside the car.

“Hello Mummy, hello Granny! Aunty Julie’s arrived with my cousins.”

“Why aren’t they out riding with you?” Ellie asked.

“I was out riding already when they arrived. Grandpa called me on this.”

Callista proudly pulled out a new mobile phone and Ellie frowned.

“When did you get that?”

“It’s from Grandpa Harry. He bought it today as a reward when he saw my exam results.”

Ellie was not entirely happy with Harry’s purchase but it would have been crass to deny the child now she had one. Instead she cautioned her daughter.

“Well you make sure you only speak to people you know!”

Callista frowned resignedly as she explained.

“Gramps had a lock put on it in the shop. It only takes calls from selected numbers and gramps’ got the code.”
Molly nodded approval.

“I’m glad to hear it young lady. You make sure you don’t end up speaking to people you don’t know and that includes friends at school.”

Callista’s face fell.

“But Grandma, what about my friends?”

“We’ll let Mummy be the decider darling. It’s only right.”

“What about Aunty Julie and my cousins?”

“Well of course you can put them on the list. We’ll do it as soon as we get to the house, now be off with you.”

Callista needed no further encouragement as she swung her pony around and galloped off between the trees while Ellie resumed picking her way along the pot-holed drive.

“You should have gone via the main gate.” Molly observed as the car lurched repeatedly over the bumps.

“I prefer this way it’s prettier.”

“But muddier,” Molly countered.

“Well – yes, I suppose so,” Ellie conceded as a startled smile broke across her face. “Oh! Look! Look at that; isn’t it beautiful?”

Molly smiled as two does with their fawns picked their way delicately across the drive then skipped into the woods. She explained knowledgeably.

“They will have been hiding the fawns up in the bracken. The whole herd will be down from the bracken soon; those two must be early birds.”

“Harry was talking of breeding them on more commercial lines, for the meat trade.” Ellie remarked.

“Sign of the times darling,” Molly replied, “Rearing deer is one of the few activities that can be exploited on the heath and moor. That’s the trouble now it’s become an SSI.”

“Poaching will become a problem won’t it?”

“We’re going to share the keeper costs with the Arnolds and the Lumiers who own the rest of the moor. Hopefully we’ll share the profits but the deer fence is a big expense. Fortunately ‘Natural England’ is prepared to contribute some of the cost because the whole moor is thought to be the last known habitat for Pine Martens in Northern England.”

“I thought they were extinct in England.” Ellie exclaimed.

“Everybody thinks so but we the Dentons know differently. We proved that they might be breeding to the authorities in Rural England and now they are offering us all sorts of money just to preserve their habitat. Preserving their habitat with Scots Pine and other native conifers perfectly complements deer breeding. The deciduous woodland is also important for providing small mammal food.”

“Callista’s going to have to learn all about this isn’t she?”

“Yes but I’m pleased about her progress in that area.” Molly nodded. “Fortunately she seems to be taking a keen interest in the estate.”

“We should try and encourage her to study one of the biological sciences if she makes it to Uni.”

Molly snorted at Ellie’s remark.

“Oh good gracious Ellie, the poor girl’s still in junior school, let’s get her through high school first.”

Ellie nodded thoughtfully before replying with a mischievous grin.

“And would that be Eton or Harrow or Rhodean or Cheltenham.”

Molly sighed empathetically.

“Exactly, let’s see what transpires with the gender issue first.”

“Oh by the way, I’ve got some news on that front as well. I’ve been in touch with the college of heralds. They seem to think she can be an Earl or a countess or even a duke or duchess when she reaches her majority.”

Molly frowned thoughtfully.

“Probably the latter. I don’t think Harry will live to see Callista’s eighteenth. You and I will probably have to run the estate until Callie’s ready. Is Callista’s inheritance of the title certain then?”

“They told me that because the royal succession law was changed after Callie was born, she should inherit the title. Laws can’t be enforced retroactively. However, if she wants to maintain the family line, she’ll have to freeze some sperm if she transitions later.”

“Well it would certainly reinforce her claim to the dukedom if she produces semen while she’s still technically a duke, even if she’s not yet married.”

Both women wagged their heads and smiled as they contemplated the Salic gymnastics that the college of heralds would face in determining who should succeed to the dukedom. Molly expressed her own thoughts.

“If she turns out to be a full time transvestite then all’s well if she marries a girl but if she turns out to be transsexual let’s hope she’s prepared to marry a girl and go down the artificial insemination route or the Denton line legally stops with her.

“Would that upset you?” Ellie pressed.

Molly paused again for thought.

“Yes; yes it would a bit. I’d feel we were letting the ancestors down. It’d be a pity to see it die out; it’s pretty long line, six hundred years and over twenty generations.”

“Yes, that’s some history for a family; I can see why the Chinese traditionally set great store by their ancestors. We would be letting them down wouldn’t we?” Ellie agreed as they pulled into the back yard of the house.

They were just about to enter when Callista emerged from the stables after attending to her pony.

“Hi mummy, grandma. Are my cousins staying for supper?”

“Yes darling, they’re staying the weekend.”

Callista’s smile broadened with anticipation as she paused to remove her riding boots in the boot room while Molly and Ellie went to welcome the others. They found them in the drawing room being entertained by the old duke. Embraces and hugs were exchanged all around and Callista joined in when she entered. The children immediately disappeared upstairs while the ‘olds’ fell to discussing other matters that mostly involved Callista’s future. Harry elaborated on the inheritance issues as they affected Callista’s ‘trans’ issues.

“I was speaking to the Herald of arms on the phone this morning and it seems that the present thinking is unchanged. The inheritance of the title is deemed to be unaffected by Callista’s gender change, if she decides to have one. Frankly I feel that we’ll have to cross that bridge when we come to it, or more probably – when you come to it. It’s unlikely that I’ll still be around when Callista reaches eighteen.”

“Don’t say that Harry,” Molly begged, “don’t tempt fate. The last check of your prostate was satisfactory and Mr Earhart the urologist was very optimistic.”

Harry smiled sympathetically then wagged his head.

“I’m seventy five darling, Callie’s got a few years yet before she’s eighteen and I’ll very likely be dead by then. Furthermore, if she decides to take blockers before puberty, it’s very unlikely she’ll produce viable sperm to take things forward on the blood-line front. If Callie doesn’t somehow father a child, the title will probably pass to David’s oldest daughter but even that’s not yet been tested in the heraldic court.”

Harry then turned to Ellie.

“By the time Callie is eighteen it’s possible both Molly and I will have gone. You’ll have to look after this pile though Julie’s offered to help. Sorry to burden you with all this.”

Ellie shrugged. There was little she could add. With the inheritance issue more or less exhausted, the conversation turned to more immediate affairs affecting the estate like the future of the moor and surrounding deciduous woodlands now that it had been made an SSI because of the pine martens and the reptiles. The sandy heath-land habitat was vital to the snakes and lizards while the surrounding ancient pine forests and deciduous woodlands were vital habitat for the martens. They discussed deer herding and other environmentally acceptable agriculture over the dinner table.

“Which deer are you going to keep Grand-pa?” Callie asked.

“Which do you think best Darling?”

Harry replied, seizing an opportunity to engender his heir’s interest in the project.

“Fallow deer Gramps.”

“Oh. Why.”

“I heard Mr Wainright the ostler talking to the vet when he came to check one of the horses. They agreed that fallow deer grow faster than red deer and the stags are not so dangerous.”

“Huh you’re right there cuz’,” Lucy observed. “A red deer stag chased us off the moor only last year. Luckily we were on the ponies. Mr Wainright heard about it and warned us to stay away from them in September and October.” She turned to old duke. “Was he right Gramps?”

“Yes. You’ve seen how big they are and they could easily kill a child. Stay away from them during the rutting season. And you gave a good answer Callie. We are thinking fallow deer might be the better option. They’re easier to manage and grow to maturity earlier.”

Callie felt a flush of embarrassed pride at her grand-pa’s praise and avoided the other’s gazes as she concentrated on finishing her pudding. Ellie smiled as she noted her daughter’s reaction.

Once the supper was over the children went to bed while Ellie excused herself from the family to chat to Beverly about business. It was midnight before she came off the phone.

~~oo000oo~~

Heir to a Title Chapter 16

That weekend became the precursor to Callie’s lifestyle for several years until just before her early teenage years. Then the inevitable happened as her beloved grandfather finally succumbed to his prostate cancer. Ellie had the tragic good fortune to be present at his sickbed with her grandmother, mother and auntie Julia beside her as her beloved Grandpa Harry finally died. Her three cousins entered briefly and paid their last respects then left, but Callista remained resolutely at the bedside even while the family doctor sadly confirmed the old duke’s passing. Finally, Callie bent over to kiss her grandpa their last goodbye and, with some reluctance, she left the bedroom with her mum and gran. In the drawing room she sat hugging her mum as the tears finally broke. They flowed for several hours; Callie had loved her grandpa as no other.

With the inevitability of life and death made clear to her, Callie realised as few children her age were forced to realise that life for her would change beyond all things normal. That year she later became thirteen, the age of ‘Common entrance’ to British public schools. Previous generations of the Denton family had invariably been sent to a major boy’s school of national repute not far from London and the Dowager Duchess was keen for this to continue. So much so that she had previously discussed the subject with Ellie and they had jointly approached the school when Callie was only ten years old. Inevitably the question of Callista’s gender arose in the ensuing discussion and there followed much correspondence between Denton Hall and Eton College.

Having seen Callie’s academic record, the school were naturally keen to accept the future Duke of Denton as a pupil but Ellie and Molly both thought the question of gender identity might prove to be a stumbling block. To their relief they found the headmaster very sympathetic.

“Yes, we do accept some female students in the upper forms but not ordinarily in the lower levels. However you say that biologically Callie is a natal born male.”
Ellie nodded and added.

“Yes, and indeed she is still technically male. Her male parts still function.”

Ellie went on to briefly mention the hereditary issues and the headmaster listened with considerable interest. When Ellie had explained everything the headmaster nodded sagely.

“Hmm, yes. When I read your letter of application with the attendant medical information I decided to read up about transgenderism. The child has got a lot resting on her shoulders. Does her maleness distress her?”

“D’ you mean her still having male parts?” Molly checked.

“Well not only that, but wearing male clothes like our school uniform and suchlike.”

“I think she could manage it at a stretch,” Ellie offered, “but in the privacy of her room she would necessarily seek to revert to femininity. Are the study rooms private? Can she lock her door?”

The headmaster leant back and paused.

“There would be no problem there. The school is well resourced with many excellent foundations. Accommodations can be made both physical and social. We have an excellent policy and we are well resourced to assist children with disabilities, though I hasten to add. We do not consider transgenderism to be a disability in the conventional sense. Obviously we might have to make provision for her privacy needs but that’s exactly what we at Eton are resourced to do.”

“What about the other boys, bullying and stuff?”

“The staff – pupil ratio is very high at Eton and supervision is considerably better than at state schools.”

Ellie nodded with some relief as the Dowager Duchess took the questions further.

“How are those senior girls in the upper forms accommodated?”

“There is a separate house provided. The girls mix for schools, dinners and other essential scholastic activities but they board at the lady house and don’t share preps. However some girls choose to share library with older boys but usually for the intensive pressures of exam preparations. It is their choice and if any boys prove to be disruptive the girls will usually retire to the ladies common room. It’s a very egalitarian arrangement.”

“As a junior pupil will Callie be able to avail herself of the senior facilities?”

The headmaster rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

“I’ve seen Callie’s academic record. She’s far ahead of other children in maths and sciences; obviously somebody’s been tutoring her, would that have been you Duchess?”

For a moment Ellie was bemused by the headmaster’s term of address to her. She still thought of Molly as ‘The Duchess’, but now that Harry had died and she was the mother of the only male heir then the Headmaster had presumed her to be the Duchess. Molly was the Dowager Duchess. Then she realised that technically, her sister-in-law, Julia might be more legally the Duchess as she had been married to the older son David. However, with both of Molly’s sons dead, Callum as now legally ‘The Duke of Denton’ and until she married, there was no actual ‘Duchess’. The whole situation was fraught with confusion. She coughed diplomatically as she explained to the Headmaster while Molly nodded agreement.

“Ahem. I’m not actually the Duchess of Denton. Indeed, until and unless Callie gets legally married, there will be no Duchess. Technically, I could be considered the Countess of Denton because Henry survived his older brother and our union produced Callie, or Callum as his official male name. Callum or Callie as she prefers, is the only male heir. It’s going to be complicated.”

The head master could not hide a brief smile as he nodded then added.

“Yes indeed, it is confusing isn’t it? Then might I address you as Countess?”

He glanced sideways towards Molly who nodded approval.

“That would seem the best option,” Molly interjected as Ellie nodded slowly.

The headmaster leaned back and sighed with satisfaction for at this juncture he could be constructive and sympathetic.

“Well here we can at least offer Callum structure and simplicity. Have you not considered entering him for a scholarship? I think he would win one on the basis of this record.”

He tapped Callum’s file respectfully.

“Your child has a remarkable ability in Maths.”

“Like his mother,” Molly added, “Ellie got a first in maths at Cambridge where she met my youngest son Henry; who as you know was an Etonian.”

“Would a scholarship benefit him?” Ellie asked, noting how the pronoun had subtly changed.

“It would expose him to children of like minds, with a more academic outlook. They tend to be somewhat more understanding of other peoples disabilities. They are housed in the one house. College house is the oldest house and all the King’s Scholars are housed there. This tends to prevent incidences of intellectual snobbery as each child can hold his own in schools whilst meeting his equals in library and preps. Furthermore the dame is ever alert to her ward’s needs because some of the scholars come from less advantaged backgrounds and have to get over the culture shock of Eton. I suggest you enter Callum or Callie for the scholarships because if she wins one it gives her some prior respect and status with the other boys. Any measure of status will give her better protection and she can only benefit from that. As you will be well aware, boys between ten and fifteen are possibly the biggest snobs of all.”

Ellie pulled a wry smile as she added.

“So her title won’t be a disadvantage then, either.”

“She’ll soon learn not to bandy it about. This school can be a great leveller. There are plenty of minor royals here from various countries and they soon get the corners knocked off them.”

There was a general chuckle at this remark as a tea trolley was wheeled in and the remainder of the meeting was spent dealing with general matters followed by any special arrangements that might prove necessary during Callie’s attendance. Ellie left feeling relieved and reassured by what she had learned.

“So what d’you think darling?” Molly asked Ellie.

“We can try it. Only Callie can decide in the end.”

And so it was that Callie Denton, future Duke of Denton, went to Eton after successfully winning a scholarship.

~~ooo000ooo~~

“Good morning Countess Denton and this young person is I presume the future duke of Denton.”

Callie nodded and extended her hand as she greeted the house master.

“Yes sir, though I usually refer to call myself Callie.”

“Well indeed,” the house-master nodded, “we are all fully alert to your circumstances and College House will take all the measures to make your attendance at Eton a happy one. Would you like to see your study room?”

Ellie and Callie nodded and followed the housemaster into the house. On the first floor he took them into a corner study with a small self-contained en-suite facility. Ellie’s eyes widened.

“Do all the boys have their own facilities?”

“Not normally countess but we do take extra steps to help students with any disabilities – I hasten to add that we don’t consider Callum’s circumstances to be a disability but we have to protect him.”

“We normally address her by the female pronouns housemaster.”

The housemaster smiled as a flicker of uncertainty crossed his countenance while he explained.

“It’s my intention to speak to all the boys tonight when the new boys are introduced to the house. We also have three other disabled students. One is wheel-chair bound while the other has mobility problems and uses a walking stick. Naturally these two will occupy the ground floor. The third is sight impaired but he can easily climb the stairs. He will occupy the study next to Callie’s. The other study in that corner belongs to the school house captain. He is pop as of right and keeps order in the house.

“Pop?” Ellie wondered so the housemaster explained.

“It’s a school expression for the senior prefects who keep order amongst the boys. If a boy becomes a senior prefect he is called ‘Pop’. And no, it’s not some derivative of pa or father. Callie will spend the first few weeks finding his way around the school and learning all the customs, rules and terminology associated with Eton, not to mention all the different locations.”

The housemaster then turned to Callie.

“Now Callie, do you think you can face meeting the other boys this evening and declaring your circumstances?”

“Well, it’s now or never sir. I’ve got to do it some time, better sooner than later.”

“Well done boy. Later, once we have made sure that there are no problems with any of the boys from college house, I will gradually change to female pronouns and address you as miss, or ‘young lady’. If the boys hear me using those terms it will reinforce the message that each pupil here is an individual with needs and rights but no privileges.”

“What about my study sir, the bathroom thing?”

“For convenience the school will deem you to have a disability when viewed in the light of your gender dysphoria. However, I hasten to add that in reality we know transgenderism NOT to be such. For convenience and organisation your private washing facilities will simply reflect those needs. Just as they do for the other disabled boys on the ground floor. For you and those boys privacy is a need; it only becomes a privilege for the Pop and they have earned those privileges by being elected to pop.”

Callie nodded and the housemaster smiled encouragement before leaving him and his mother to unpack. Eventually everything was stored in its appointed place and Callie changed into the school uniform of tail coat, pinstripe trousers and Eton collar, Ellie reluctantly prepared to leave her child.

“Now if you have any problems you must immediately see your housemaster, d’ you understand?”

“Yes Mummy.”

Ellie gave Callie one last suffocating hug and they made their way to the main hall. There, other boys were making their parental goodbyes. Callie joined the group of new boys as she watched her mother reluctantly take her leave. As the parents finally departed, a low buzz of talk emerged from the boys as they cautiously and nervously made themselves known to each other. In this the scholars were different from the rest of the fee-paying students because they were invariably unknown to each other for they had arrived via the King’s Scholar route and not via the closed world of private ‘prep’ schools. Five minutes after the parents had left, the housemaster called the boys to order. He took a roll call and introduced the group to the house dame and deputy housemaster. Once the roll call was registered, the rest of the scholars entered the hall and the new boys embarked upon the first steps of familiarisation with the many customs and terms associated with Eton’s many traditions.

In the early evening, College House had its first formal gathering where Callie’s dysphoria was finally revealed to the rest of the boys. Callie was both impressed and relieved by the housemaster’s excellent explanations to the other boys. After the various official affairs were completed, Callie was invariably approached by the other boys wanting to know more. Naturally both the housemaster and the dame made sure that they were within earshot as Callie was expected to answer the many questions. She was glad of their attendance for some of the questions were invasive and occasionally even rude.

Firstly she made it clear that in the privacy of her study she would be living somewhat more like a girl and anybody wishing to meet her there, would have to accept and respect her boundaries.

“Will you be wearing dresses?” One boy asked.

“Yes,” Callie replied, “but only in my study.”

“What about underwear, knickers and things?” Another boy asked.

Allie replied quite openly. “Yes, all of the time whether I’m living as a girl or dressed by day as a boy.”

“What about weekends and stuff?”

“I’ll be going around dressed just as the other students except for the underwear,” Callie explained. ”I have no extra privileges in that respect.”

A murmur of consensual acceptance rippled through the boys and eventually the questions petered out. Finally the clock declared ‘lights-out’ and the housemaster made a final declaration.

“Just remember boys that every student’s right to privacy will be respected by every other student, especially in the privacy of your studies. Now off to your studies. Supper is served at nine o’clock.”

Library hour thus broke up as the boys retired to their studies to prepare for the next day. Ellie’s first night at Eton proved uneventful and she started as she meant to go on. Naturally the boys were curious but being primarily of a cerebral bent, they were mostly just that – curious. At supper each new student was invited to give a brief resume about themselves and naturally Callie was asked to explain some aspects of her condition so she tried as best she could. Naturally the housemaster, deputy housemaster and dame were present so there was no immediate threat or danger to her physical well being and at the end of the session, Callie felt much more relaxed. On retiring to bed she wore her favourite nightie and slept well.

In the morning as she dressed for the first full day at college she smiled as she dressed in the formal tails and deftly fashioned her tie correctly. The dame and deputy housemaster met her at the bottom of the stairs.

“Well done Callie. First down and properly attired, in you go.”

Callie entered the dining hall and gazed around until the housemaster called her name.

“Callum Denton?”

“Yes sir.”

“You’re on the ‘F’ table for juniors and your place is number four.”

The master briefly pointed it out and Callie went to stand behind her chair. The hall quickly filled up and eventually the house captain took his place at the high table with the masters. Grace was said and a few notices were read before the students sat to eat. Callie was mildly pleased that her place was clearly designated and there was little scope for cliques or ‘gangs’ to evolve at meal times. The only tables without designated places were on ‘A’ table, the equivalent of years twelve and thirteen. The college having deemed that the oldest boys were by that time above the urge to bully the younger boys. The system worked.

For the remainder of the day, the students were too busy scurrying between schools or ‘divisions’ as they each located their respective masters for study. By evening they were too preoccupied with ‘prep’, library and supper to develop any friendships. It was not until the very last hour that the students had a brief chance to socialise.
At this juncture Callie knew that, if there were going to be any boys with issues about her gender dysphoria, then this hour would reveal them. Consequently she was quietly sidling out of the common room towards the privacy of her study when another boy accosted her.

“Are you the transsexual?”

“Yes,” Callie bristled defensively, “what are you?”

“They say you were top of the King Scholarships this year.”

This conversational follow-on slightly threw Callie for she had no idea she had been the most successful scholar. She just assumed everybody simply won a scholarship and that was that.

“How did you know that? I didn’t.”

“It’s in the register come and look.”

Already well attuned to possible traps she refused politely. The last thing she wanted was to be caught alone and attacked.

“I’d rather not; I’ve got some stuff to sort in my study.”

The other boy sensed her suspicion and quickly moved to set Callie’s mind at rest.

“It’s quite safe; it’s in the Library and the Master’s there giving some of the boys advice.”

“What sort of advice?”

“Well some of them haven’t decided on all their divisions yet. He’s putting them through their paces to find any weaknesses.”

Callie was again taken a bit aback by this.

“I’d have thought that King’s Scholars wouldn’t have had weaknesses. They would have to be bright to win their scholarships.”

“Not always Callie, the senior library is just across the corridor, come and see.”

“What do I need to see? I’ve chosen my divisions. I think I’ll go to my study.”

The boy hesitated, seemingly a little hurt as he sensed Callie’s caution.

“You don’t trust me do you?”

“I don’t trust anybody until I’m certain of their intentions.”

The other boy lowered his voice.

“Is it that bad? For transsexuals I mean.”

Callie paused thoughtfully. She had lived a relatively open life because she had attended ordinary state schools before her scholarship. During those early years she had endured many uninvited attentions and several of them had been very unpleasant. Like most young transsexuals, she was very cautious. She was still wondering if this incident was a precursor to some sort of organised attack. The boy sensed her uncertainty and moved quickly to allay her fears.

“Look, my name’s Michael, My study is next but one to yours down the corridor.”

“Nice to meet you Michael, shouldn’t you have introduced yourself by name before invading my privacy and thinking you could simply walk up to me and demand to know my most personal circumstances. How would you have liked it if I had simply walked up to you and asked; Are you the gay boy?”

Then Callie lowered her voice almost to a whisper so as not to alert the other boys.

“What’s worse, how would you have felt if I had been wrong?”

Michael’s jaw fell as he realised that Callie had come within a hair’s breadth of ‘outing’ him.

“How did you know?” He whispered hoarsely.

“I didn’t.” Callie smiled knowingly. “I do now but it matters not a jot to me.”

Michael’s expression changed from fear to relief as he realised that Callie was a very rare bird; somebody who at only thirteen, had already moved beyond the squalid, prurient, schoolboy obsession with all things sexual. Nevertheless he still felt forced to secure his own peace of mind.

“So you’re not going to tell anybody then?” He whispered nervously.

Callie smiled again, almost resignedly then sighed.

“God forbid Michael, the last thing to interest me is you being gay. Get over it.”

“I can’t, my parents don’t even know.”

Callie was already turning to continue her exit towards her study. She just wagged her head slowly with her parting shot.

“Do they have to know?”

Michael was stuck for words.

“I -.”

Then he recovered his senses and stopped to consider Callie’s question. Finally he mumbled an uncertain reply.

“Well - no,” he concluded; “no, I suppose they don’t do they.”

“Well there you are then. Stuff like that should be private anyway. See you.”

“No don’t go, I wanted to ask -!”

It was too late; Callie was already bounding up the stairs to her study. Michael watched the disappearing figure and realised with some relief that it was obvious that the transgendered kid was simply not interested or bothered by Michael’s revelation. It was obvious she was preoccupied with her own issues. He debated following her up to her room but reluctantly turned and re-entered the library.

Inside her study, Callie started sorting out her books and endorsing her year-planner timetable on the back of her study door. Next she stored her books carefully on the shelves above her desk. And put her exercise books and pens in the drawer of the desk. Once the academic business was addressed she turned to the large trunk still sitting beside her bed. Her school uniforms and outfits had already been stored in the wardrobe but finally she had to decide what she would do with her female clothes. She was folding panties and chemises in the bottom drawer when there was a soft knock on her door.

“Who is it?” She called.

“Dame Jane Cullinan. May I enter?”

For a moment, Callie debated closing up her trunk and shutting the bottom drawer but then she decided to brazen it out.

“Damn it, I’m Trans; they know this so it’s no secret.” She thought. “I’ll start as I mean to go on.”

She called out as she was kneeling.

“Yes, come in, the door’s not locked.”

The dame put her head around the door just as Callie had deliberately taken her pretty white ‘trainer’ bras and was openly folding them to tuck them next to her matching cotton panties.

“Oh I’m sorry Callum, I’ll come back later.”

Callie, having already brazened out the first issue, begged her to stay and say what she was going to say.

“It’s all right Miss. I’m nearly finished here. What is it you want?”

“Well I noticed the little incident down stairs just now. Is everything alright?”

“Oh yes Miss. That was a boy called Michael, he was just curious, he wasn’t rude or anything.”

“Good, that’s what I was checking. Are you okay, none of the other boys bothering you?”

“No Miss, so far it’s okay.”

“Good and I see you’re quite at ease with your alternative self. That’s good; we encourage boys to find their full potentials here. D’you want any advice with your clothes? The girl’s clothes that is?

Callie smiled then chuckled slightly.

“My mum and gran have helped me with stuff but thanks for your help. If I have a problem I’ll certainly come to you – and thank you for being so kind.”

She tapped her neatly folded underwear by way of explanation.

“Oh, just one thing Miss. Am I allowed to wash my underwear in my study; you know – the other boys.”

“It’s a bad idea to dry clothes where you are sleeping. That task will be attended to by me. Count it as a little luxury. Your grandmother has sorted that out. I’ll get you a special laundry bag so there is no interference.”

“Gosh, thank you Miss.”

“Well, I think that’s all and I’m glad to see that you’ve settled in, oh, and by the way; you address me as Ma-am, not Miss.”

“Oh sorry Mi- sorry, Ma-am.”

The dame smiled and closed the door behind her. Outside Callie heard her talking to the deputy housemaster David Exeter.

“No problems David. The boy’s settling in well. Are you going to see him?”

“No Jane, if you’re happy, I’m happy.”

Callie listened to the steps retreating down the stairs then resumed packing her lingerie. After completing the task she changed into her nightie and settled for the night.

In the morning she woke to the alarm and instinctively searched for the shaft of sunlight that ordinarily transepted her bedroom at dawn. There was none and she lay puzzled momentarily until she remembered she was not at home but in her study at her new school. Her window was north-facing and would rarely enjoy any direct sunlight. Philosophically she sat up and paused to stretch before picking her way to the bathroom and commencing her ablutions. On dressing she decided to start as she meant to go on and slipped on a pair of plain cotton knickers before donning the traditional school uniform of tail coat and striped trousers. Once dressed, she tended to see herself as a ‘he’ so he stepped into the corridor to discover he was again one of the early-birds. He sauntered down to breakfast to take his assigned place. The housemaster looked up from the register book and nodded approvingly before remarking.

“Well done boy, are you normally an early riser Denton?”

“Yes sir.”

“Good. Just remember young man, two hours work before nine o’clock is worth four hours after.”

Callie smiled appreciation and wondered silently.

“But I can’t start breakfast until after grace and for that I have to wait for the tardy-bookers.”

The master seemed to sense Callie’s silent thought and suggested.

“It’ll be ten minutes before the hall fills up. I suggest you take one of the newspapers and read it.”

Callie had presumed the papers were reserved for Pop but she was secretly pleased they were available for anybody. She left the table and took a newspaper to a small room set aside for just such a purpose. The master reminded her.

“When the bell rings, you still have a couple of minutes to return to your place. Get along now.”

She found the short read to be rewarding. Two older boys entered the room and glanced curiously at the early riser. Both boys wore brightly coloured waist-coats that declared them to be members of Pop, the prefects who maintained order in the house. The shorter Pop approached Callie.

“You’ll be one of this year’s in-take.”

Callie looked up and nodded cautiously.

“Are you the boy on the first landing with the single study?”

Again Callie nodded.

“So you have some sort of disability. Are you managing alright?”

Ellie nodded for the first time wondering where the conversation was going.

The other Pop then looked Callie over and raised a curious eyebrow.

“Might I ask what your disability is? It’s obviously not physical if you’re on the first landing.”

Callie paused cautiously then took the bull by the horns. It would become common knowledge anyway and better to ‘get-it-out-of-the-way’ sooner rather than later.

“I’m transgendered.” Callie replied in as measured and calm a tone as she could muster.

Her answer made both Pop fall momentarily silent. Callie resumed her own silence until the Pop loomed over her as the shorter one recovered from the surprise.

“Oh yes, I remember, I heard some other boys mention it briefly after the induction. Do you mean you’re going to change to a girl?”

“Possibly,” Callie affirmed. “Nothing’s certain yet though, I have to wait and see.”

The silence returned as both Pop digested her reply. Then the taller one asked.

“Are you deformed or different ‘down there’?”

“I think that’s young Denton’s business gentlemen, not yours.”

Callie turned her head to see the deputy housemaster filling the doorway. A wave of relief washed over her for she was going to explain but she still wasn’t certain what the Pop’s intentions were. With the housemaster present she felt safe. She spoke to the deputy housemaster.

“Can I explain it now sir?”

The housemaster paused then nodded. “Alright boy but you’ve only got a few minutes before the breakfast bell. I’ll be outside.”

Callie turned to the Pop again.

“For the time being I’m like an ordinary boy down there but things could change later. That might put me in danger of uncalled-for attention and even possible assault. That’s why I’ve got a private study for my protection.”

Both Pop frowned then nodded as the taller one observed.

“So that’s why you’re next door to me. Well don’t worry. In college house were of a more cerebral bent so you shouldn’t get any trouble. You might get problems from the Oppidans during divisions though.”

“If you do,” the shorter Pop added, “don’t hesitate to approach any pop or master. The days of bullying are definitely over at Eton but there are still the occasional idiots around. Come on, there’s the bell.”

Callie followed the Pop out of the little side room then strode briskly to her table. She noted that both house master and deputy were monitoring her progress and she felt much happier as she resumed her allotted place. As she stood behind her seat Michael dashed in just as the clock was beginning to strike. He screeched to a halt beside her as he took his seat in alphabetical ‘sir-name’ order. Ellie grinned as Michael gasped with relief.

“Your tie is a mess. What happened?” Ellie asked.

“It’s a bugger to do in a hurry.”

“I’ll do it for you after breakfast.”

“Thanks Callum. You’re a brick.”

They said grace, took their seats and commenced breakfast. Callie was a light eater and as she stood to return to her study and collect her books, Michael followed her to the bottom of her stairs. There she deftly retied his tie and Michael thanked her effusively.

“Where did you learn to do it so quickly?” he asked.

“My grandfather taught me years ago”

“Oh.”

Michael wondered where Callie’s grandfather might have learned of such things but he let the question lie as he went to collect his own books. Both students met again at the door to College house.

“I’ve got maths now with Williams,” Michael declared. “Where are you?”

“The same,” Callie replied.

They were not surprised to find themselves with another dozen Kings Scholars as they made their ways to the maths school. Several boys checked Callie out as they hustled to division, but none asked any personal questions. In college house the word was already out – rude and invasive questions were off limits. Inside the maths block the Kings Scholars soon found their division and this time there were no appointed chairs. Callie was happy to sit next to Michael who proved an equally capable scholar. It soon became apparent that the pair were the best in their class and that meant the best in their year. Kings scholars were necessarily academic children by the very dint of having won their scholarships. Both students found the work easy at first but the small classes drove the agenda and they were soon working hard to address the lessons that were set.

At lunch the pair were entering the main dining hall when they were approached by some unknown oppidans.

“Are you the queers everybody is talking about?”

Callie sensed Michael go tense with fear but she herself rose to the question.

“No.”

“We’ve heard differently,” one of the oppidans argued.

“Whatever you’ve heard, it’s probably wrong.”

“They said the blond one with long hair was some sort of tranny. Is that you?” The same oppidan persisted.”

“What d’you mean by tranny?” Callie countered.

“You know what tranny means.”

“Yes. I do know - perfectly. I’m wondering if you know. Tell me what you think a tranny is and I’ll tell you if I am one.”

The self appointed spokesman looked around sneering.

“A bloke who wears girls clothes.”

“Not bad, but that would be a transvestite would it not?”

“So you’re not denying it then?”

“Yes I am. You still haven’t explained what a tranny is so I can’t confirm or deny. By your definition you’ve described me as being a bloke who wears girl’s clothes. It appears to me that I’m wearing similar clothes to you, it’s called school uniform so how would that make me a transvestite?”

“You could be wearing knickers underneath. Go on, show us your pants.”

“Fancy wanting to look at a person’s underwear. Are you some sort of pervert?”

The boy reached out to grab Callie by the trouser waist. His fingers just managed to hook onto the belt strap. Callie was long inured to such provocation so she grabbed his extended wrist with both hands and twisted around quickly. The bully found himself forced to buckle to the ground or suffer a dislocated elbow. He tried resisting but Callie’s arm lock was too secure. She twisted slightly further to inflict excruciating pain and her antagonist squealed.

“Ow! Leggo’”

“No.”

“You’ll break my arm.”

“I’ll break your neck if you ever try to de-bag me again.”

At this juncture one of the masters appeared.

“What’s going on here?”

“This student demanded to see my knickers sir. I think he might be some sort of sex offender.”

The master struggled to hide a smile for like all the masters he was aware of Callie’s dysphoria. Furthermore the other boy was older and known to be something of a bully. However, the smaller boy seemed to be having the best of it.

“Let the boy go Denton.”

Callie released her grip on the boy’s wrist and he stumbled backwards as he lost his balance. He sat down with a bump and tried to protect his fall with his hands but when his injured wrist failed to support him he ended up on his side and grunted with pain. Callie stepped back for two reasons; one to show she was obeying the master explicitly and two to make sure of being clear of any retaliation. The master looked down at the bully’s contorted face.

“Did you boy; did you ask to see Denton’s knickers?”

“I was joking sir.”

“Demanding to see a younger boy’s underwear is no joke Oliver! It could be construed as paedophilia and that could land you in prison.”

The master had chosen his words carefully to see what response they would extract from the gathered circle of other students. The ensuing silence told him all he needed to know. The Denton boy had not lied for if he had, the group would have objected.

“My office NOW Oliver! Denton go and get your lunch then report to me after dining.”

“Yessir.” Callie obeyed.

Heir to a Title Chapter 17

Callie knocked and waited before being ushered in. The Master was standing by the window looking over the quadrangle. He turned thoughtfully.

“Now Denton, I am presuming you were the innocent party in this.”

“Definitely sir.”

“Did he actually touch you – you know make a grab at your clothes?”

“He reached towards my trouser waist sir so I seized his wrist and twisted around.”

“Did you think he was going to try and take your trousers down?”

“He had hold of my trouser belt sir and he suggested he was going to expose my underwear. Another boy from my class saw and heard him.”

“Yes, in fact several boys have already confirmed to me that they saw it so there’s no question of his having said what he said and doing what he did.”

Callie breathed a silent sigh of relief; at least her class-mates, particularly Michael, had come through. The master paused thoughtfully as his brow furrowed with concern. Finally he broached the question that had been exercising his mind.

“Now this is a delicate question but I’m afraid I have to ask it. Might Oliver have found anything HE might have deemed untoward?”

Callie hesitated then replied boldly.

“If you mean was I wearing female underwear then yes sir, he would.”

The master nodded. All the staff had been advised of the Denton boy’s dysphoria and they were fully cognoscente of the legal situation. If the boy suffered an unprovoked attack then the attack would be deemed transphobic and the pertinent laws would apply. However, no master wanted to punish a boy who was still only fifteen as Oliver was. He considered another tactic.

“Would you object to my having Oliver in here now?”

“To apologise sir?”

“Well more to explain the severity of his offence but I expect an immediate apology to follow. He’s waiting in my ante-room and he’s missed his lunch. I’ll be perfectly honest, I don’t want to take this further unless I have to, but be assured, if Oliver proves to be intransigent then I will and it follows that the school will.”

Callie nodded. The sooner this was dealt with, the sooner the message would be broadcast throughout the college. She nodded assent. The master then invited Oliver to stand beside Callie in front of his desk. He tapped a few keys on his laptop and turned the screen for Oliver to read it while the master explained.

“Now boy; that is the law concerning transphobic assault and those are the penalties. I have asked around during the lunch hour and there are several boys who have told me what happened. You especially referred to Denton’s gender issues. At first they mostly thought it was funny because they are unaware of the severity of your offence. However, after I explained a few things, they changed their views. Now this is what could happen to you if this goes further, and by that I mean going to court.”

The bully studied the screen and visibly paled. Callie had never actually read the law before and she was pleasantly surprised as she leaned forward to read. After digesting the facts the older boy turned to Callie.

“I didn’t realise, I’m sorry.”

Before Callie could reply, the master weighed in.

“Well I’m glad that you’ve apologised without being prompted. Now; whether you’ve apologised through fear or from genuine remorse matters not to me but be assured, your offence will remain on record. The headmaster is aware of it, but for now it stops here; at my desk!” The master then addressed Callie.

“Now, Denton, d’ you accept the apology?”

Callie was more than prepared to let the matter drop and said so. The master took it one step further.

“I won’t require any ‘kiss-and-make-up’ nonsense. You are old enough to know the situation now and I don’t expect you to become bosom friends but be assured Oliver, it will be a truce! Finally have either of you any questions?”

Callie wagged her head as she replied ‘No sir’;

Oliver had one which he addressed to Callie.

“Does everybody in College house know about your – your-?”

Callie looked the bully directly in the eye as she replied,

“Yes; it’s called gender dysphoria and yes, I explained it during the first library. They accept it and the Pop have assured me they are alert to it.”

Oliver looked suitably chastened and the master closed the session.

“Very well, there is to be no more of this but remember; it’s on record.”

Outside the office, the pair left for their respective divisions without exchanging a word. At supper that night Michael hurried to meet Callie.

“What was the outcome?”

“He’s on notice of legal action if it goes further; and thanks for your acting as witness. That went a long way.”

“Legal action!” Michael almost squeaked with relief. “You mean prison and stuff?”

“I doubt it would come to that, well not in the first instance but Oliver knows he’s on a sort of probation. If he does it again, the school will take it to the courts. They have to show they’re doing something”

“Is that his name, Oliver?”

“Yeah, his full name’s Richard Oliver. He won’t be bothering us anymore, gay or trans.”

Michael thumped Callie affectionately in the arm and the two went to library where all the F year boys gathered to learn of events.

Eventually the Pop approached the boys to determine the cause of the excitement. Callie explained and the house captain nodded.

“I’m sorry there were no Pop there but we can’t be everywhere at once. I’m pleased there was a master there to deal with it. They have more power. So Oliver’s on serious notice, I’m surprised it didn’t go all the way up to the headmaster.”

Callie spoke up.

“It did actually but the head let the master deal with it.”

“Was that Mr Ellis, the one with curly red to greying hair?” The shorter Pop asked.

Callie nodded and the sports captain added.

“Yes, he’s good. He’s head of classics. If he’s on your side you’ve got a good friend.”

Callie felt forced to add.

“I don’t think he was on anybody’s side, he was firm but fair.”

“Exactly! Yes, that’s Ellis,” the sport’s captain finished, “now, bed you lot.”

Callie slept well that night but in the morning she found an inexplicable stain up the front of her knickers. She fretted about it all day until finally she approached the dame when she was taking her underwear to the laundry. The dame of course was aware of such issues.

“You’ve reached puberty young man. Your parents have explained to the house staff about your circumstances so I’ll contact your mother. I presume she’s explained the plan.”

Callie nodded then asked curiously.

“So it was, - you know, - stuff then.”

“Yes young man, it was semen.”

Callie blushed nervously but the dame was fully alert to such things and she smiled reassuringly.

“It’s perfectly normal Callie. It happens to all the boys during the onset of puberty so don’t be afraid or ashamed if you need to relieve the tensions – that is masturbate. You boys will have a hundred different expressions for it but that’s the correct medical term. If you need to talk, then that is the correct term."

The relief was evident as Callie turned to leave and the dame finished.

“I’ll call your mother in the morning and she’ll probably come down next week. It’ll be best if you go to a sperm
bank on a games afternoon then you won’t interrupt your academic work.”

And so it came to pass that Callum Denton, thirteenth duke of Denton preserved his sperm for future posterity.

~~oo000oo~~

A few days before the end of that first Michaelmas term Callie and Michael were leaving the maths block early.

Because they were both excellent maths scholars, they had completed their exam papers early so they had a whole afternoon of free time and they were contemplating a brief visit to a small cafe close to the River Thames to share some tea and cakes.

“This looks like a nice place,” Michael observed as they peered through the window from the street, “it’s got a veranda that overlooks the river.”

“I’d prefer to eat inside,” Callie replied, “that balcony might be nice in summer but it’s November now.”

“There’s that conservatory glass part, we could sit there. It’s sheltered but with a good view of the river.”

Callie agreed and the pair stepped inside. It being a miserable midweek afternoon, the cafe was virtually empty and they ordered their tea and cakes before settling to overlook the river swollen by winter rains.

“In the summer this place would be heaving with tourists but we’ve got it to ourselves. The weir looks angry, must be all the rain we’ve had this week.” Michael observed conversationally.

“Duu-uh,” Callie chuckled, “that’s what rain does darling - fill rivers; - don’t you remember your geography.”
Michael knew that Callie’s seeming sarcasm was meant in jest and he grinned back. “Piss off bitch.”

The word bitch had become a term of endearment between them for they were now firm platonic friends. They
both fell to chuckling softly as they cut into their cake and sat back to study the river in full spate.

“I wouldn’t like to fall in that.” Callie remarked.

“Me neither, but you’re a good swimmer Cal.”

“Don’t think I’d survive long in that, it’s cold as well as powerful. That weir looks deadly”

From the warmth and comfort of their chairs they watched soberly as a large log swung by dipping and bobbing in the rushing current. Callie had never seen the River Thames in spate before and she stood up to go outside on the veranda and get a closer feel of the river’s mood. The sucking, gurgling rush made her shudder and she turned to go inside just as a piercing scream startled her.

A woman was shrieking in horror.

“My baby, she’s fallen in!”

Callie span around and saw the woman prancing in terror on the bank upstream. As she rushed to the rail of the veranda the woman spotted her and screamed desperately.

“She’s there, in the red bonnet!”

Callie looked down and spotted the almost submerged bonnet rushing towards her in the current.

“Shit! What do I do?” She asked herself even as she stepped back out of view to take off her tail coat and waistcoat. Then she kicked off her shoes and was debating if she had time to remove her trousers as the little red blob approached. She decided she had and frantically removed her trousers as the red bonnet was passing underneath the veranda. Just at that moment the bonnet rolled over to reveal the baby’s face. It was definitely the child!

Callie didn’t have time to climb down and reach out into the water so with her shirt billowing like a dress; she jumped off the rail and struck out towards the drowning infant. She reached it and pushed the child upwards so that its face was clear of the water but now she had a serious problem. The river was sweeping her rapidly towards the weir and the thundering cataract of water. To compound the problem, Callie was trying to give the infant ‘mouth-to-mouth’ resuscitation so she couldn’t use both arms as a powerful swimmer. Desperately she looked around and decided her best chance was to swim diagonally with the current and aim for one of the upright posts that held the control gates that maintained the river level in the summer to enable boating and navigation on the river.

Having made her choice, Callie took hold of the infant’s walking harness in her teeth and struck out desperately for the nearest post. Desperation and terror lent strength to her efforts and she finally managed to get herself in line with the weir post as the river rushed her towards it. Frantically she lunged for the post and grunted as her hands found a grip on one of the lugs that ordinarily secured the levelling boards in summer. As her fingers clutched desperately, the river swept her onto the post and the force almost tore her arms from their sockets as she slammed against it. With the infant’s walking harness still clenched in her aching jaws she finally managed to clamber up the fastening lugs like an improvised ladder until she was perched at the top of the post and clear of the terrifying roar of water below.

Now the cold started to get to her as she resumed trying to resuscitate the baby while people on both banks now became alert to the situation. Callie called out in desperation.

“Help! Help!”

A voice from the gathering crowd called back.

“Hold on darling, the fire service has been called!”

‘Darling?’ Callie wondered at the caller’s remark. ‘Why are they calling me darling?’

She tried to get herself comfortable as she shifted her position and tried to hug herself tight around the infant who she knew was equally vulnerable to hypothermia. Now that she was secure, she decided to conserve what heat and strength she possessed and wait for rescue by curling into a tight ball against the weir-post. After what seemed like ages but was in fact only a minute or so, the mother appeared on the opposite bank and asked the obvious question that all the other onlookers had overlooked.

“Is my baby alright!”

Callie felt a surge of self-satisfaction as she was able to shout back one sentence.

“Yes, she’s breathing.”

However, that was all she could say. Cold and exhaustion were beginning to tell and she had not the breath to shout anything else.

Eventually Callie was relieved to hear the raucous two-tone moan of a fire engine as flashing blue lights appeared in the car-park on the bank further upstream. A uniformed fire officer was using binoculars to study the huddled lump attached to the post and concluded it had to be an immediate boat rescue using a powerful inflatable RIB attached to a strong rope on the rescue engine’s winch. He was already issuing instructions to the rescue crew who were launching the RIB and paying out the winch rope to act as an anchor. Callie started crying with relief as she watched the RIB eventually snake its way into mid stream and then slowly pay off the rope as it reversed downstream towards the post. Even so, her arms were numb with cramps and tired muscles as the boat finally fetched up stern first against the foot of the post.

While the boat handler and his mate manoeuvred the boat in the rushing torrent, the third man reached out to Callie.

“Well done love, you’ve been fantastic. Give me the baby!”

Painfully, Callie leaned out and extended her agonised neck to swing the baby –still hanging from her jaws - on its walking harness into the rescuer’s grasp. The baby was quickly placed in a safe place while the rescuer returned to seize Callie. He was only just in time as exhaustion overtook her and she almost fell semi-conscious into his arms. The boat dipped alarmingly as both Callie and rescuer fell into the well while the boat handlers immediately made haste for the shore. Callie recovered as the rescuer unfolded a survival pack.

“Here darling, get that wet blouse off you and wrap yourself in this foil. I’ll see to the baby. You did brilliantly today!”

Only as she recovered her wits, did Callie realise the firemen had also mistaken her for a girl. Her pretty white bra was plainly visible under her saturated shirt and of course her cotton knickers were plainly visible. The error was further compounded when they removed her shirt for it was stained by mud and torn beyond recognition as part of her Eton college uniform. Fortunately, she was well covered both by the reflective foil sheet and an extra blanket when they stretchered her up the bank to the waiting ambulance. There, the paramedics automatically maintained their professional discretion when they realised the ‘girl’ had male genitalia.

However, when the press arrived, the fire officer – who had been too busy recovering the rescue equipment – had not yet been informed of the rescuer’s correct gender and he innocently referred to Callie as ‘an extremely brave young lady’ in his first press meeting. To compound the issue, several videos had been release on You-tube by mobile phone users and there, Callie’s bra and cotton knickers had been vaguely visible under the torn linen shirt as she clung to the post.

As she sat up in her hospital bed the housemaster and head master appeared at its side.

“Your mother is on her way but I must be the first to congratulate you on a very brave thing you did.”

“Thank you sir. Sorry if I caused any fuss.”

“Never mind the fuss young man. The school is well able to deal with any fall-out. I take it that you have seen the videos on Face-book?”

“Yes sir. The ward sister showed it to me. Everybody thought I was a girl.”

“Yes, you’ll have noticed that your underwear, particularly your bra, was clearly visible but don’t be upset by that.Our policy does not change; Eton College is well able to accommodate each pupil’s needs. Now there are two more people here to see you. One you’ll know of course and the second is the toddler’s mother, you’ll be pleased to know that the child is also making a full recovery.”

Callie heard Michael’s voice in the corridor and he grinned as his best friend appeared with an older woman who had brought a large box of chocolates.

“Hi Cal! I’ve got your phone from your coat; everybody’s trying to reach you.”

Callie grinned as she took the proffered phone then she set it on the side table as the mother approached tearfully. The relief and gratitude plain in her eyes.

“Thank you so much, thank you, thank you! I just don’t know what else to say!

“I’m just glad the baby’s okay; she is okay isn’t she?”

“Yes, yes. She’s fine. They’re keeping her in until this evening and they’ve given her a tetanus shot. I’ve just got to keep an eye on her temperature for a few days to check she hasn’t picked up anything else like Weil’s disease. I have to bring her in for a check up next week or if I spot anything.”

“The same goes for you young man,” the head master added, “you’ll be back here next Tuesday for a check up or if you have a temperature.”

At these words the mother looked askance at the headmaster.

“I thought she was a girl!”

“No ma-am. This young hero is one of our youngest and brightest scholars. He had just finished his maths exams and he was enjoying tea in the cafe where you saw him. Ah so it WAS the boy in tails. He stepped back when I shouted and I didn’t see him strip off. I presumed it was a girl in a white dress that jumped off the rail.”

“No it was him; his friend Michael here brought his clothes and phone back.”

“Gosh, he was wearing a bra under that shirt. Everybody saw it.” The mother’s eyes widened slightly.”

“Yes, and cotton knickers,” the housemaster added, “but nevertheless, young Denton is one of our brightest pupils. Boys like him are rare birds.”

The mother turned towards Callie and smiled warmly.

“Whoever you are, I still owe you for Katie’s life. These chocolates are for you, I’m so sorry they’re sort of girly; the chief fire officer said you were a girl and we all thought so. I’ll get you something more appropriate later.”

Callie grinned contentedly as she took the chocolates.

“These are perfect.”

As she opened the box everybody chatted some more until the ward sister arrived to shoo them away.

“Sorry. I’ve got to do some bloods and stuff, so everybody has to leave. Come back in an hour and if everything is okay, he’s free to discharge.”

Callie sagged back against her pillows as the sister and a houseman checked her thoroughly. After confirming there was little damage except for some heavy bruising and strained ligaments to her shoulder, they declared her free to go. At this news, the College House dame entered with a clean school uniform, some shampoo and Callie’s favourite set of lingerie. The ward sister and houseman glanced perplexed as Callie eagerly showered, then blow-dried her shoulder length hair before donning her lingerie. Momentarily, she postured unselfconsciously in the mirror before donning her outer male clothes. The dame explained briefly.

“Callie is transgendered but she’s not yet fully decided how far along the spectrum she is.”

Stuck for the right choice of comment about Callie’s dysphoria the young houseman changed tack.

“Nevertheless, she’s been a very brave individual. That weir is lethal. I saw the Face-book pictures.”

Callie smiled at his use of the female pronoun and thanked him for that as well as the treatment she had received. Outside the hospital, the house dame paused briefly to warn him.

“There’s a reporter outside, you don’t have to say anything. In fact I’d advise you to duck down as we drive out of here.”

Callie took her advice and they reached the college without mishap. There however she was immediately surrounded by her classmates who demanded to know what had happened. Standing aside from the clamour she saw her best friend Michael trying to shrug apologetically.

“I tried to tell them but they want your version.”

Callie wagged her head with dismay as she confessed to the clamouring scrum around her.

“To tell the truth boys, I don’t remember much of the first part in the water, I was too busy swimming. What I remember most was the bloody cold as I perched on the post.”

“Does that mean you’re going to be a wet-bob next summer?” A wag called from the back.

The boys all laughed then more questions quickly followed and the meeting eventually dispersed as the two friends slipped up to Callie’s study. Back in her study, Callie flopped onto her bed while Michael sat looking pensively out of the study window.

“I thought you were done for!” He remarked. “You’re my only true friend and I’d have hated to lose you.”

He turned expectantly for Callie’s reply but there was none. Callie was asleep. Michael was tempted to slide onto the bed beside Callie but his friend had never shown any sign of being sexually attracted and Michael was torn between chancing his luck and letting things lie. He hesitated uncertainly over Callie’s sleeping form then cautiously bent down and kissed her on the forehead. Callie murmured softly and stirred but did not waken. However, Michael lost his nerve and slipped away as he heard footfall on the stairs outside.

~~oo000oo~~

The next morning the deputy housemaster met Callie at the refectory door.

“Well, you’ve made the headlines young Denton. How does it feel to be famous?”

Callie frowned uncertainly as she recalled the video she had seen on Face-book.

“What did they say Sir?”

“Go and look; the papers are in the annexe.”

The master followed Callie into the little reading room and waited in the doorway as Callie slowly grasped the gist of the headlines. The first headline she read left her shocked as it set the tone for the rest; - ‘Transvestite Etonian scholar saves toddler from certain death!’

What was worse than each headline were the pictures that invariably accompanied them. Every picture showed an outline of her bra under the saturated linen shirt.

After angrily scanning the broad-sheets he turned to one of the red-tops only to read an even more offensive headline.

Trantastic rescue on deadly River Thames cataract!

Horrified, she studied the Face-book picture now blown up and, to her eyes, obviously ‘photo-shopped’, to show her bra clearly visible through her wet shirt. She also suspected the image of the shirt had been ‘adjusted’ to make it more resemble a dress but she could not be certain. A tear forced its way to her eye as she turned away and cursed softly.

“Bastards!” Oops! Sorry sir I –“

“I understand Denton, d’you want to be excused breakfast?”

As the dam burst she asked.

“Why sir; why? I mean I rescued a kid and all they’re interested in is trying to ‘out’ me as a transvestite! – Make me out to be some sort of freak!”

“I’m afraid that’s the press Denton. They’re only interested in selling copy. It’s all about money and they’ll throw anybody to the wolves to try and make a buck or two. Anything that they deem to be salacious or some-how sexual, is gold to them. Try not to worry, in a couple of days it will have blown over. Your best tactic is to stay within the college grounds and avoid public spaces.”

“But I have to cross the street every day to go to divisions.”

“I’m sure your classmates will help you get across without being accosted and I’ll arrange with the Pop to provide a bit of muscle if they get too invasive. Be brave Denton, as brave as when you faced the weir.”

Callie found herself drawn back to the news-sheet and gasped as she read further.

“Dammit Sir, they must have searched all night to dig up all this stuff. And they’ve revealed that I’m the future Duke of Denton. As far as I knew, nobody knew about that except the house masters and the head. Now everybody will know.”

The house master wagged his head reassuringly.

“That won’t be an issue Denton. About five percent of the students here are from some sort of nobility. That’s simply a fact of life at Eton.”

“But I didn’t want it known sir. I made it to Eton on the back of a King’s Scholarship, and that means a lot to me. I earned my place!”

The master used a different tack to reassure Callie.

“Well I’m afraid it’s public knowledge now lad. I wouldn’t worry about your reputation with the other boys; the ‘K.S.’ after your name is evidence enough of your scholastic achievement. To my knowledge there are about six or seven heirs to dukedoms in the college not to mention a few foreign princes and a score of earldoms and baronies. You’re in pretty familiar company. I don’t think your reputation amongst the other boys will suffer. After all, you did risk your life and you did successfully rescue a toddler. That flood is dangerous and one of the maids told me that the bank by the weir was crowded with disbelieving ‘rubber-necks’ yesterday evening as people went to look at the scene and wonder at the power of the water. If you had gone over the top, both you and the little girl would have certainly been killed.

Besides proving your courage, all the boys know by now that you’ve got gender dysphoria. If nothing else, your attendance at the school has served to teach all the boys something about transgenderism and even more about tolerance. What you did proves that you are not some sort of effete, effeminate wimp. You can hold your head up Denton and treat the gutter press with the contempt they deserve.”

The master’s kind words served to reassure Callie and strengthened her resolve. She nodded thankfully and dried her tears before returning to the refectory and taking her place at breakfast. As she sat down Michael studied her face.

“Have you been crying?”

Callie nodded as she explained to her best friend. Michael at least, being gay, was acceptive of somebody shedding tears. Callie could trust him and she explained why she had been crying.

“Yeah. Those bastards in the papers were more interested in my gender stuff than the fact that I saved the kid.”

“Huh! Typical!” Michael almost spat the words out. “All they’re interested in is sex, sex, sex!”

Callie fell silent as she started to eat. She had yet to run the gauntlet of the public street when she crossed to attend the morning science school for her last exams before going down for Christmas holidays. As she finally finished what little breakfast she could face she was approached by one of the Pop.

“The dame has her car in the rear yard. We’ll hide you in the boot and drive out down the lane then into Windsor. There we’ll do a ‘car-change’ like bank robbers and Mr Ellis the classics master will bring you back into the college round the back. Come on, chop-chop.”

Shocked and grateful for the support she was being given, Callie hurried after the older boy and the plan proved successful. After completing her final exam, Callie was given leave to go home early and avoid anymore distress. The following morning her mother Ellie appeared at lunch and by nightfall, Callie was home; safe in the bosom of Denton Hall.

“Well I won’t bother asking how school went darling,” Callie’s grandmother grinned, “I’ve read the full report in the paper!”

“Na-an!” Callie groaned. “That was just a single event. There’s a whole semester to chat about, not just the weir thing.”

“It was still a very brave thing to have done darling,” the Duchess persisted.

“Yes and a dangerous thing!” Ellie added. “You would have been killed.”

“Can we stop talking about it, plee-ease?” Callie begged.

Both Molly and Callie exchanged smiles as they started to eat.

”Can I go riding later?” Callie asked. “I’ve got some thinking to do.”

“What about?” His mother Ellie asked.

“Lots of stuff.”

“D’you want me to come?”

Callie hesitated.

“I’m not sure.”

“Well, I shall come, then, if you want to think on your own, I’ll drop back?”

Callie nodded uncertainly, “yeah, that might be best.”

Both mother and child cantered up onto the moors then slowed to a walk before stopping at a favourite spot that gave them a panoramic view of a vast swathe of the Yorkshire Dales. As they silently savoured the view, some walkers happened by.

“Morning,” one of the ladies offered as they paused to savour the view.

“Morning,” Ellie replied as both mother and child smiled politely.

“Best view in Yorkshire.” The self appointed spokeswoman added.

“Best view in England.” Callie finished.

“Aye. Pity they want to spoil it.” Another male walker observed.

“How so?” Ellie asked.

“They say the new owners want to plant conifers.”

“New owners?” Ellie wondered aloud.

“Aye, since the old duke passed they say there’s likely to be some sort of issue about inheritance. T’is said the heir to the title is unlikely to inherit because he’s likely going to change sex. They say the next nearest male heir lives over Allerton way and he’s after converting all this to commercial forestry.”

“Good gracious!” Ellie expostulated as she turned knowingly to Callie. “Is that true darling?”

Callie, being a sharp witted girl, quickly caught on to her mother’s question.

“Not that I know of mummy. I’ve always loved this view. Grandpa always said we hold these lands in trust for future generations.”

A deafening silence descended on the walkers as they slowly realised the significance of the younger female rider’s words.

“The earlier spokeswoman turned to the man.”

“Oh my God Harry, d’you realise who this is?”

The man’s jaw sagged slightly as the truth dawned. Then he tried to apologise.

“Oh gosh! I’m sorry ladies. Are you the –?”

“The Denton family,” Ellie replied softly as she nodded. ”Yes I’m afraid we are, and this is my child, the future duke.”

The man’s face frowned with uncertainty as he studied the obviously feminine younger rider.

“So it’s not true then?”

“What?”

“The stories about the inheritance.”

“Not to my knowledge sir!” Ellie replied edgily. “According to the Herald of arms, as long as my child lives, she retains the estate – and the title.”

“So the view will remain?” Another walker confirmed as if to reassure the whole group.”

“As long as our family holds the estate. Oh, and we have the backing of English Nature and the National Trust. Besides, this view is part of an S.S.I. The whole of this part of our estate is a site of scientific interest.”
At this revelation the group’s Ears pricked up.

“Oh. Why is it an SSI?” The man asked.

“The wild-life is protected.” Callie replied whilst giving nothing much away about the pine martens.

“Wild-life?”

“Yes, there are some rare vertebrates hereabouts.”

Ellie added to throw the man off the scent but he was not to be deterred.

“I’ve heard there might be some martens as well.”

“It’s been rumoured, though I’ve never seen any.” Ellie lied. “If you see any, let English nature know.”

“So you’re not a friend of the conifer plantations?” Another walker pressed.

“They have their place,” Ellie replied, “but not up here; not on these dales. The original ones were planted during the war years but we don't plant them now. Not on the Denton estate.”

Callie sensed a mood of relief settle over the walkers and realised they were on the same side as her family. To reinforce the mood she started to dismount.

“It’s lovely up here mummy, shall we eat our butties? The view is just fabulous.”

They turned the horses loose and settled on the favoured flat rock as the walkers took their cue and decided likewise. Within minutes the walkers were enthusiastically waxing lyrical about the Yorkshire Dales.

“Eeeh ladies, you’re so-oo lucky to have a slice o’ this country.”

“Not that lucky,” Ellie replied. “There’s a constant battle to defend the land against exploitative interests.”

“Such as?” One of the ladies pressed.

“Quarry owners wanting lime-stone, water authorities after building more dams, forestry companies looking to plant more commercial woodland and so on.”

“Are you tempted?”

“What? To sell out you mean?”

“Yes.”

“Our ambition is to keep the estate intact even if we are forced to change the land use.”
“Can’t say as I approve of the quarryin’”

Ellie shrugged as she explained.''

“Sometimes it’ improves the rock-climbing facilities after the quarrying’s finished. It’s an ill wind.”

And so the group chatted at length until it became obvious that the light was fading.

“Well, we’d best be getting down off the hill.” The spokeswoman declared.

Ellie nodded and whistled up their horses. They strolled over and the pair mounted easily as the walkers watched. As Ellie and Callie cantered off the older man remarked to no one in particular.

“Nice people them.”

~~oo000oo~~

Heir to a Title Chapter 18

That evening as the three generations sat in the large drawing room at Denton Hall the phone rang. Callie was nearest for she was working on her laptop by the telephone table.

“Hello, Denton Hall.”

“Hello, is that the Duchess of Denton?”

“No, it’s the duke or more correctly his heir.”

There was an uncertain pause as the caller tried to assimilate the higher-pitched female voice. Callie explained.

“I’m his grandson. My grandfather died last year.”

“D’ you mean the young lady we met with the horses this afternoon?” The caller continued uncertainly.

“Who is this?” Callie responded.

“It’s Jack Tyler, the secretary of the Dales preservation society. We met by the Stone on Denton Top.”

“Yes I remember; were you wearing the green woolly bobble-hat? You’d better speak to my mother, the dowager Duchess.”

Callie took the phone to her mother and explained.

“It’s somebody called Jack Tyler.”

Ellie took the phone and pressed the amplifier button for all to hear.

“Hello Ellie Denton here.”

“Is that the older of the two riders we met at the Fall Stone today?”

“Yes.”

“Well, as I explained to your daughter, I’m the secretary of the Dales Preservation society.”

He paused as he seemed to be gathering his thoughts before continuing.

“I, - I’m sorry if this seems a bit invasive but traditionally the Duke of Denton has usually been invited to become president of the Denton Branch of the society.”

“Go on,” Ellie encouraged.

“Well we know that the future duke is still a minor and there have been rumours that the child might have gender dysphoria problems that might, at some later date, preclude her from holding the title.”

“My child does have gender dysphoria issues but we have been in contact with the Heraldic Courts and the case is being discussed at this very juncture.”

There was a noticeable sigh of relief or confusion - Ellie knew not which, - before the caller continued.

“Well the situation is this. Since the old duke died the presidency has remained empty but we wish to fill the post again and we’d love to invite the new duke but we seek clarity on the inheritance issues.”

“I don’t follow you. Surely the post is just an honorary position if it’s filled by invitation and that would imply that the occupant would have to earn the occupancy by merit. Gain the respect of others, so to speak.”

There was a longish pause before Jack Tyler tried another tack.

“Well the principle has always been that somebody of note or stature should hold the presidency to give the society some gravitas. For example, when presenting arguments forwarding the society’s points of view.”

Ellie smiled to herself as she replied.

“Well I hardly think that a thirteen-year-old boy or girl would lend gravitas to anything.”

“Uuuhm – no. I suppose you’d be quite right.”

There followed another longish pause before the man spoke again.

“Perhaps you, as the dowager duchess, might want to fill the post?”

Ellie was quick to scotch the idea.

“Oh I’m sorry, that would be almost impossible, I am fully employed with running a shipping line both from the Humber and Poole in Dorset. I commute several times monthly.”

With that Molly appeared at Ellie’s shoulder. She had been following the conversation because of the amplifier mode and she held out her hand for the phone. Ellie handed it to her.

“Hello. Jack; its Molly here, Harry’s wife.”

Ellie looked askance as she commented.

“Oh! First name terms I see.”

“We’ve known each other for years. Harry was always keen to work with the society. Preservation was dear to his heart.”

She resumed talking to Jack.

“I can act as president until my grandson is of an age. That’ll be about five years when he’s eighteen.”

“Oh Hello Molly, that would be grand. Is the boy interested in preservation?”

“Very much so, mostly fauna at present but as he matures he’ll understand the wider picture. I’m sure he’ll be keen to take up his grandfather’s duties. For now, I’ll keep his seat warm.”

“Thanks Molly. That’ll work fine. I hope to see you at the next month’s meeting.”

“Certainly, and I’ll bring the child along. Oh, another thing. I seem to be getting vibes here, so why are you suddenly so keen to fill the president’s position? It’s been sitting empty since Harry Died.”

“Haven’t you heard?” Jack replied.

“Heard what?” Molly asked.

“The governments adopted a new code of practice regarding quarrying in the National parks. It’s making it much easier to get extraction licences, especially for lime-stone. There’s a firm from London looking to move into the Denton Moor area seeking to open a new super-quarry somewhere between Denton Moor and as far north up to North-Billerton.”

“But that’s a huge area; some of our estate could be affected.”

“Yes, virtually the whole of the eastern escarpment running from the river north and that’s some of the most beautiful scenery around here.”

“Shit!” Molly cursed under her breath.

“What was that My Lady? Did I just hear a Duchess swear?”

“Yes, you damned well did Mr Tyler. Sorry, even the nobility get angry sometimes!”

“Well it’s good that you have. We’re going to need all the allies we can get.”

I’ll see you at the meeting next week Jack.” Molly confirmed and reinforcing their alliance by returning to first names.

“See you Molly, and bring that grandchild of yours, he seems a pretty genned up kid.”

“SHE seems a pretty genned up kid, Jack. Callie prefers to be identified and addressed as a female.”

“Oh. Sorry; is she going to you know- ?”

“We don’t know yet, but there’s plenty of time and steps are in place to address things.”

“Okay Molly, I’ll make a point of introducing her by the female form of address. Bye for now.”

“Bye Jack and thanks.”

As she put down the phone Molly turned to Ellie and Callie.

“It seems that we’ve got something of a fight on our hands.”

“Yes, I got the jist of it,” Ellie replied. “Will it affect the Denton estate?”

“I can’t say but we’re going to be awfully busy ascertaining exactly where they plan to quarry.”

Ellie’s sharp brain was already weighing up the issues.

“There’ll be a lot of pressure for jobs but the environmental issues could be hugely contentious.”

Molly frowned.

“I’ll wager they’ll want to extract from Crag-dale bluff. That’s a huge limestone outcrop.”

“But that’s partly on our estate close to where the three of our estates meet high on the peak.” Ellie protested.

“Yes darling,” Molly concurred, “and I’ll be speaking directly to the Arnolds and the Lumiers about it tomorrow morning. I damned certain that’ll be the first place they want to extract from. It’s just outside the border of the national park.”

At this conclusion the three made their way to bed and the very next morning as Ellie prepared to return to Hull, Molly was phoning around. When Ellie returned that evening Molly was waiting with a long face.

“Bad news I take it.” Ellie remarked after greeting her mother-in-law and daughter.

“Yes and no.” Molly replied.

“Go on.”

“I’ve been in touch with the county planners and they are prepared to grant extraction licences in certain areas. The area from Brackendale to Cragdale bluff is one of them. It’s just outside the national park. They want to quarry at the face of the crag but the county planners have put several restrictions about volumes by weight and traffic frequency.”

“But surely, if we refuse, they can’t just invade our land.”

“Well that’s just it.” Molly continued. “Terry Lumier is a bit short of cash and there are still outstanding death duties to pay on the estate since his father died. He needs the money to settle up with the revenue vultures.”

Ellie pursed her lips with annoyance.

“What about Jane Arnold?”

“Jane’s on our side. She and her husband only bought the estate last year and they are furious about this development.”

“Good. So how do we go forward?”

“By far the greatest bulk of material will come out of Terry’s land. Only about a million tons will be removed from Jane’s land because any more extraction will impinge on Bracken dale and that’s part of the SSI where the Pine Martens are believed to have been seen. About ten million tons will be will be extracted from the Denton estate and it’s on the west side of the crag so it’s invisible to everybody except walkers and hikers who make the effort to get out that way.”

Ellie studied Molly’s face and sensed the problem.”

“There’s a ‘but’ isn’t there? There’s always a 'but'.”

Molly nodded.

“Yes, the only viable approach to and from the quarry is up Bracken Dale then across our land along the old railway track bed that used to serve the original quarry.”

“You mean over the river and past our lake?” Ellie’s frown deepened.

“Not for certain.” Molly explained. “There are two viable routes, one each on either side of the dale.”

“But both will cross our land.”

“Yes,” Molly confirmed. “The easternmost road was never more than a bridle path and an old drover’s road before that. Any road on that side would have to be a new construction running between our house and the lake. It’s by far the shorter route so it would be very attractive to any quarry company. The alternative route would be the old railway bed that passes well away from the lake on the other side of the valley. It’s a much better option for our estate and Jane’s but we would see still the lorries and the dust they kick up as they take the higher road.

Apparently there would be about a hundred lorries daily for approximately ten years. At best it would have to be a double lane road, or at least a road with numerous passing places.”

“What about noise?”

“There’ll be that and white dust. Despite the new filtration systems there’s bound to be dust.”

“Let’s ride out there on Saturday and see what can be done, though I fear we’ll not have much say except in the licensing stage.”

Ellie nodded affirmation and prepared for bed. She had a busy week in Hull.

~~oo00oo~~

Saturday arrived wet and gloomy, reflecting the mood as they debated riding out. Callie’s enthusiasm for a ride to a new location was the only bright spot and she managed to cajole her mother to accompany her. Her grandmother Molly decided to stay indoors; wet weather and old rheumatic bones were not good riding companions. There was a brighter aspect for Callie though.

Jane Arnold had agreed to meet with them and she had a daughter the same age as Callie. The reason the two younger children had never met was because Jane and her husband had only recently moved in after renovations to the old farmhouse. Under grey skies that threatened rain Debbie and Callie let their horses pick their own way to the old bridle path and eventually they saw two figures huddled under a solitary Rowan tree similarly clothed in weather-proof riding coats in anticipation of the threatened rain.

“Who’s the other rider mummy?” Callie asked.

“I don’t know darling, it looks like a girl.”

Callie peered up the path and finally concluded her mother was right. The other rider was a girl and she looked about thirteen. Callie’s mood brightened and when they finally met her eyes lit up at unexpectedly meeting Jane Arnold’s daughter whom she had never even known about. The sparkle of pleasure was also reflected in Margaret’s eyes when she realised she wasn’t going to be stuck with ‘the olds’. After introductions the younger pair were soon chatting as they drifted ahead of their parents.

“So you’re the girl who lives at Denton Hall?” Margaret observed as they trotted ahead just far enough to chat privately.

Callie was reluctant to reveal her gender status so she simply confirmed the other girl’s assumption.

“Yes and you live at Cragdale Manor Farm, Callie confirmed.”

The pleasure of learning of each other’s existence quickly served to cement their new-found friendship for both girls quickly realised they had much in common with their life-style and hobbies.

“So do you only come home at term times?” Margaret asked.

Callie nodded as Margaret continued.

“What d’ you think about this quarry then? Oh, and call me Maggie, everybody at school does.”

“It looks as though the firm will get its extraction licence.” Callie replied. “The country needs the material.”

“Huh! They won’t be happy until the whole of Britain is as flat as Norfolk.”

“Amen to that,” Callie continued, “and this lovely track will become a bloody great two lane road.”

“That means they’ll have to widen it and that will involve blasting and cutting in some places.” Maggie grumbled. “There’ll be more noise and dirt as they build the road.”

At these words, Callie had a sudden thought and she questioned Maggie a little further.

“You live over on that side of the crag; where will the road come out; you know - where will it join the main Bradford road?”

“Oh I suppose it’ll join the lane to our farm or further down somewhere by Billerton. That’ll involve a winding climb over the spur at the end of the crag. They’ll have to build a completely new bit of road and it’ll improve the access to our farm. Trouble is there’ll be lorries trundling back and forth all day long. It would have to separate from this track down there because the old railway takes a different route down towards Billerton because of the terrain. It circumvents the Cragdale bluff by going through the old Billerton tunnel to Billerton Junction. That’s how the little village got its name separate from Billerton itself.”

“Why don’t they reinstall the rails and use trains? I mean it’ll be shorter to Billerton Junction and by-pass Billerton town itself.”

“Nah, that’s unlikely. Britain doesn’t build railways anymore.” Maggie mused.

Callie fell silent for she knew Maggie’s words to be flawed. She thought of several new railway projects like the ‘Cross-rail’ tunnel under London and the new ‘Waverly’ commuter line into Edinburgh; the Heathrow connection to Paddington and the Cotswolds line from Worcester to Oxford. She changed the subject but resolved to later ask her mother’s opinion.

After all, her mum must know something about the economics of transporting stuff; she helped run a shipping company.

As the drizzle finally arrived, they rode on for a further half hour just chatting about the impact of the quarry until eventually they had exhausted the subject. For a few minutes the rode in silence until Maggie’s natural curiosity led the conversation to their backgrounds. Firstly she chatted about the area and how boring it was for a teen-aged girl always seeking company amongst the remote moors and dales.

“So do you live up at Denton Hall all the time or just during hols?”

Callie could see where the conversation was going so she tried to move the conversation on.

”Oh I go down to Dorset some times and up here at others.”

“So it’s the local comp then is it?” Maggie suggested.

Callie shrugged and made a wry uninformative smile that gave little away. She was happy to let Maggie make her own assumptions even if they were erroneous.

“Do you go locally?” Callie asked.

Maggie smiled somewhat superiorly and declared proudly.

“Oh no! They’ve sent me to Cheltenham Ladies’ College. I’m still in my first year.”

Ellie shrugged and smile none-committedly again but Maggie pressed on.

“Mummy says state schools have become a shambles and the educational standards are appalling.
Cheltenham’s a super school and I’m even allowed to stable Lucy nearby. I go riding after school every day.”

Callie nodded and smiled as Maggie continued.

“You should try and persuade your olds to send you there. We could go down together each term.”

“Nah, I’m happy where I am.” Callie countered without elaborating.

Maggie assumed that Callie was possibly one of the ‘Newly Poor’. That was ‘old nobility’ impoverished by death duties; she had heard her father talking about such things. Having concluded this erroneously she changed the subject. The bridle path had widened as the terrain changed from cultivated fields to open moorland and it now stretched ahead as a perfect ‘gallop’. The temptation was too great.

“I’ll race you to that big boulder.”

Callie recognised the ‘meeting stone’ that marked the boundary to the Denton estate and agreed.

“Okay, get ready, get set and go! She urged.”

Callie’s horse broke into an almost instant gallop and quickly surged ahead as Maggie shook her head in surprise. By the time Maggie had reached the ‘Meeting Stone’, Callie was dismounted and climbing onto the stone.”

“Crickey! What d’you feed her on?”

“She’s a he. Callie declared.”

Maggie had not noticed earlier but one look confirmed it.

“Gosh, is he dangerous? My dad won’t allow stallions anywhere near the farm. One threw my older brother and killed him a few years ago. Dad never got over it.”

Callie shook her head.

“No, Sandie’s lovely, look he’s neither tethered nor hobbled and he’s free to wander. He comes to my call without fail.”

“He’s fast,” Maggie offered.

“Yes, he can beat my mother’s mare and she’s a bigger animal.

“I’d love to have a go on him.”

“I’m not sure about that. If your dad’s against entire horses you’d best ask your mum or something.”

“Oh go on, nobody can see, the olds are way behind.”

“Oh okay then. The path to the notch in that ridge is straight and wide but don’t do anything stupid. You’ll be in sight all the way and I can watch from here.”

Maggie needed no further encouragement and promptly swapped rides. Callie watched as the girl sped off demonstrating her horsemanship then paused as she reached the ridge. Finally she tired of the view and returned none the worse for her exhilarating ride. Unfortunately as she sped back towards Callie their parents appeared trotting along the lower path. Jane Arnold frowned as she recognised her only child returning to the meeting stone.

“And what, young lady, did your father say about riding stallions?”

Maggie frowned defensively.

“There’s no need to tell him.”

Ellie quickly caught the jist of the exchange.

“Are you saying she’s not allowed near stallions?”

“Yes,” Jane turned to explain, “her brother was killed by one only a couple of years ago and now her dad expressly forbids stallions around the farm. He doesn’t trust them.”

Ellie turned to Callie.

“Did you know about this?”

“Yes,” she mumbled.

“Right! You’re grounded for a week!”

“But Mummy! You know Sandie’s a perfect gentleman.”

“It was my fault Mrs Denton. We had a race and Sandie was so fast I couldn’t resist asking. I’m the best rider in my year at school and he’s a fabulous ride.”

Jane Arnold intervened.

“Nevertheless young lady, you went directly against your father’s express wishes. You’re grounded for a week as well.”

Both daughters fell into a silent sulk as the four returned to explore the old railway track. Callie was too annoyed to broach the idea of re-opening the rail line and the girls remained silent all the way back to Denton Hall where they had arranged for Peter Arnold to collect them with the horse trailer.

As they arrived at Denton Hall, Maggie gazed in wonder.

“It’s huge; and you live here alone.”

“No with my mum and Nan.”

“Well of course I realise that! I’m not stupid; but what about brothers or sisters?”

“No I’m an only child.”

They had little time to chat any more as Ellie set her daughter to work.

“Never mind chatting, sort the horses out.”

Callie set to rubbing down and stabling the Denton horses then preparing the Arnold horses for the horse trailer. Maggie immediately offered to help and Jane Arnold cautioned her.

“Stay away from Sandie, your father will be here shortly.”

“Reluctantly, Maggie obeyed as Callie unsaddled him and removed everything before rubbing him down then turning him out into a large secure paddock.”

“Is he allowed to roam like that – without even the bridle? What about the mares?”

“Look at the rails, they’d stop a bull.” Callie replied. “He couldn’t get out if he tried.”

Maggie studied the solid, two-and-a-half-metre-high steel railings and concluded her new-found friend was right. Sandie had acres of space but he could not escape even if every mare in the district was in season.
They were finishing the other horses and exchanging mobile phone information when Maggie’s dad Peter Arnold arrived.

After the horses were trailered the three joined the others inside Denton Hall. Maggie met Callie’s grandmother for the first time and stared uncomprehendingly as her dad Peter addressed Molly.

“Afternoon your grace.”

Maggie gaped nervously as she realised the grand old lady must have some sort of title.
Molly did not notice Maggie’s confusion as she addressed Peter Arnold and smiled.

“I’m afraid your mistaken Mr Arnold. Technically, my daughter in law Ellie is the dowager duchess, because

Callum’s the future duke; aren’t you darling?”

As Molly turned to smile at Callie, Maggie frowned uncomprehendingly.

“Duke? But she’s a girl. She can’t be a duke! She has to be a boy to be a duke.”

“Nana-a!! Callie protested, at her gran for revealing her most intimate secret.

Molly continued smiling as she reassured her granddaughter.

“Oh don’t be so sensitive, darling,” She scolded Callie gently. “Maggie was bound to find out eventually. Better sooner than later.”

“But Nana! There’s no need to broadcast to everybody. How can I make and keep friends if you keep giving me away?”

Maggie was still gaping stupidly as she tried to make sense of the conversation. Finally she found her voice.

“Is it true? You’re a boy!”

Callie nodded glumly as tears started to force their way to her eyes. Maggie was almost the first girl Callie had ever met who was her own age. Their brief time riding the horses together had been thoroughly enjoyable and it had raised Callie’s hopes of finally finding a female friend to spend the holidays with. Now everything had turned to dust. She turned and stumbled from the room ignoring her mother’s beseechments to stay. Maggie had just detected the glint of a tear in Callie’s eyes and she turned to Ellie in wonderment.

“Is it true?”

Debbie hesitated as she debated what to say. Finally she realised there was no way of avoiding the truth. She rolled her eyes as she glanced censoriously at Molly then turned to Maggie.

“Yes Maggie, I’m afraid Callie is transgendered.”

“So she’s actually a boy; with the bits and all?”

Her mother Jane snapped at her.

“Margaret! That’s nothing to do with you. Don’t be so salacious!”

“But I have to know! If we are to be friends, I mean, it’s important, and there’s nobody else around here, boy or girl. Holidays suck without friends. I was looking forward to lots more rides together and maybe going into Leeds or York with her – I mean – him. Do I call her him or her?”

“She’s a girl in her head Maggie and she will possibly transition one day.” Ellie explained. “So ‘she’, ‘her’ or ‘hers’ are the best pronouns to use.”

Maggie frowned thoughtfully.

“She seemed very upset; can I go and speak to her?”

Ellie glanced enquiringly at Jane and Peter Arnold. They exchanged looks then both simultaneously nodded though Peter asked.

“Will Maggie be safe with her?”

“I should think so. Callie’s a girl in everything except plumbing.”

Peter gave a chuckle as he replied.

“That’s the bit that worries me.” He turned to his daughter. “Okay darling but no nonsense now and respect her privacy!”

“Da-ad!” Maggie protested as Ellie led her to Callie’s room.

As they tramped through the house Maggie’s eyes widened in wonderment.

“Gosh this place is huge. Thanks for showing me.”

After climbing a very grand staircase, Ellie paused outside a large door and motioned silently to Maggie. After hesitating at the grandeur of the ornate door, Maggie took the hint and knocked gently as Ellie retreated downstairs.

“Go away!”

“It’s me, Maggie.”

“What d’ you want?”

“To chat.”

“If it’s about me and my stuff, I don’t want to know.”

Maggie realised that the last thing Callie wanted was to have to talk yet again about her transgenderism.

“I want to know if you still want to be friends.”

There was a prolonged pause then Callie opened the door.

Maggie hesitated for a brief moment. The transgender thing was definitely the ‘elephant in the room’ and Maggie wondered what to talk about. Callie’s tears gave her a perfect gambit.

“Your mascara’s a mess.” Maggie observed. “D’ you want me to help?”

Callie nodded then turned towards her dressing table and took a tissue from the box as she asked.

“Are you serious – about the friendship thing I mean?”

“Yes. The ride this afternoon was brilliant and I was so looking forward to sharing the hols. But – but; you know, as a girl friend, you know; no boy stuff.”

“Do I look like I do boy stuff – as you call it?”

“Sorry, that came out a bit wrong. No. No of course not. It’s obvious you’re not a boy. That’s why I want to stay friends.”

“Okay then. Let’s do the make-up then.” Callie replied as she took a face wipe and started cleaning her face.”

The girls spent the next half hour repairing Callie’s makeup and chatting about plans for the rest of the holidays. Initially, Maggie was ‘walking on eggshells’ as she avoided any reference to Callie’s issues but eventually the tension eased. When Molly Denton knocked on their door and called to them, both girls were lying on the bed just chatting.

“Dinner’s ready girls. Maggie, your mum and dad are staying for dinner. Callie, can I come in?”

“Yes Nana.”

Molly opened the door softly and slid her head around. She was not surprised to see both girls fully clothed and lying side by side on top of the sheets with their knees drawn up

“How are you feeling girl?” She smiled.

“Okay Nan.”

“Sorry I let the cat out of the bag but it doesn’t seem to have harmed your friendship. It looks like everything is okay between you.”

“We were just chatting Nan. Bed’s the best place for that.”

“Good, well come on down now, Dinner’s ready.”

The girls slid off the bed, into their shoes and followed Molly down stairs. In the dining room the adults turned as one with various inquisitive expressions. Callie gave them an old look.

“We were just chatting.”

Behind them Molly nodded affirmation and they were soon seated. With the adults present to moderate the conversation Maggie felt more at ease to ask Callie about school life. She wondered if life was hard at the local comp and was very surprised to learn that Callie attended Eton College, the most prestigious boys’ school in England.

On learning this, Maggie had little hesitation in asking further questions and Callie’s obvious ease at describing conditions there, served to remove all reservations between the girls. When the meal ended, the girls were reluctant to part and the farewells were truly heartfelt; especially as both girls had been grounded for a week
because of the Maggie’s illicit ride on Sandie.

Fortunately the parents had forgotten to confiscate mobiles and almost as soon as Maggie got home, she was messaging Callie from her bedroom. With phones connected to their chargers the pair chatted long into the night. The friendship was thoroughly cemented and Callie had her first true friend.

~~oo000oo~~

Heir to a Title Chapter 19

With mobiles to keep in touch throughout the week, the girl’s grounding passed fairly quickly and the Following Saturday found the girls rendezvousing at the meeting stone. The girls had arranged to meet at the break of dawn such was their determination to spend as much time together as possible. When Callie arrived at the meeting stone the high top was still surrounded in early morning summer mist. As she sat patiently waiting, Sandie eventually gave a soft neigh but it was still another quarter of an hour before Maggie and her horse Lucy emerged from the mist to face Callie’s questioning expression.

“The mist is thicker down by the old railway track, we had to pick our way carefully. I’m new to these parts don’t forget and Lucy’s only been here once before.” Maggie explained.

Callie nodded sympathetically then nodded towards the path that she knew led down to the woodlands that covered nearly a thousand acres to the northern end of the estate deep inside the national park and well away from Cragdale. Callie explained in a soft voice.

“If we walk the horses slowly and if we’re silent, we’ll see the deer, they don’t see a horse and rider as a serious danger and they’ll let us get quite close. If we disappear from sight they get spooked when we reappear.”
Maggie nodded and fell in beside Callie where the path was wide enough to allow. As they descended closer to the woods they went single file to avoid disturbing branches.

Soon, as they skirted a dense thicket, Callie stopped her horse and motioned to Maggie as she pointed towards a large grove of oak and beech trees.

Maggie’s eyes widened with delight as she saw a group of Fallow deer stood silently whilst fixing their gaze on the girls. Callie whispered very softly.

“As long as they can see us they’re not too bothered but if we disappear from their view, they’ll get skittish and bolt. We’re not a threat as long as they can see us.”

Both girls led their horses several yards off the path to a small hollow where they sat silent on their horses under a large oak tree and savoured the blissful sight. With just their heads and bodies visible behind their horses’ heads, both girls sat patiently silent until eventually some fawns emerged from the undergrowth and went to suckle off their mothers. Maggie’s eyes widened with delight as she sneaked out her mobile phone and started silently videoing the scene. Neither girl spoke as they enjoyed the additional treat in the blissful silence of the forest.

For long minutes they sat astride their horses until a violent commotion erupted in the branches above them. Suddenly a screeching, chattering tornado of fur and claws plunged out of the tree and landed heavily on Sandie’s croup. He let out a squeal of protest and reared backwards in an attempt to rid himself of the sharp clawed invader. Callie squealed more in shock than fear as she struggled to keep her seat whilst wondering what in the hell had landed. By the time both horse and rider had recovered, the deer had bolted and Maggie was cackling with surprised delight.

“I got it, I got it!”

“Got what?” Callie demanded as she struggled to calm Sandie.

“The foxes that crashed from the tree!” Squealed Maggie as she brandished her mobile.

“Don’t be stupid girl!” Callie scorned her. “Foxes don’t climb trees. They must have been squirrels fighting.”

“No, no! They were far too big for squirrels; though maybe they were, they had bushy tails.”

“Did you get them on your video?”

“I think so. It was so sudden. One minute they were fighting on Sandie’s croup then they fell off as he reared up. Then they went scrambling up that lone tree over there. They’ve gone now.”

“Well I didn’t see them, it was behind me and I was busy calming Sandie.”

Maggie was fingering her phone and then victoriously proclaimed.

“Here it is, yes they must be foxes; they’re far too big for squirrels!”

Callie edged the now calmed Sandie closer and craned her neck to see. She immediately recognised the culprits.

“Oh my god! They’re Pine Martens. Oh my God, oh my god! They are!”

“What are pine martens?” Maggie asked.

They’re like a giant ferret or weasel but they’re much bigger and they’ve got those long bushy tails – like a fox see!”

They watched the clip several times as Callie explained.

“They’re like, one of the rarest wild animals in Britain. We’ve had the nature people up here because of the reports but they never found anything definitive. Now we’ve got hard evidence. This is fantastic Mags'” Let’s go back and tell my mum, she’ll be delighted.”

“Well let’s try and get some more shots. They might still be in that tree. I haven’t seen them come down yet.”

“They jump from branch to branch through the canopy like squirrels, they’ll be long gone by now.”

Maggie pursed her lips and smiled wryly.

“You may have not noticed professor, but there’s no canopy. That tree stands alone.”

Callie stopped and frowned. Maggie’s idea might just be true. She nodded to her newfound friend.

“You could be right. Let’s look.”

As they circled the tree Callie noticed a hole about twenty feet up and wondered.

“They don’t seem to be in the branches, but that hole looks like a possible den or something. Here give me a leg up.”

“Are you sure about this? They looked pretty lethal to me.”

Callie smiled uncertainly then shrugged. Cautiously, they manoeuvred a still nervous Sandie close to the lowest branch and Callie removed her riding boots before using boyish climbing skills to quickly pull herself onto the lowest branch. Then she took out her own phone and cautiously climbed her way up from branch to branch until she was level with the hole. Without a word she switched on the camera with its light and stuck the illuminated phone into the hole. Angry chattering ensued as very pissed off marten exploded out of the hole and spat into Callie’s face before streaking along a large branch and taking station several yards out of reach. Callie squealed with surprise before recovering her composure and turning to focus her camera phone on the angry home-owner.

As she looked up Maggie offered advice.

“If he’s not running away maybe he’s got family to protect in the hole.”

Callie grinned.

“Good thinking bat-man.”

Both hand and illuminated phone returned to the innards of the tree and Callie cautiously rotated the camera blindly in her hand until she felt a sharp pair of teeth rip into her finger.

“Ouch! Fucking hell!”

“Very lady-like I’m sure!” Maggie riposted.

“The bastard bit me!”

“So there’re two of them.” Callie confirmed as she stuffed her phone into her bra and gingerly descended.”

“Have you got a bandage?” She called down to Maggie.

“Oh yeah, I carry them around with me all the time. Here, you can use my hankie.”

When she finally reached to safety of Sandie’s saddle Maggie tied the hankie around Callie’s bleeding finger then Callie recovered her phone from her bra. Maggie operated it to stop getting more blood on the buttons or screen.

“Ha, there you are. No wonder she’s angry, look, down at the bottom, there’s babies.”

Callie’s face lit up partly with the success of getting conclusive evidence that they were breeding and partly from confirming there were definitely martens on her estate. English nature would most certainly continue classifying the woodland and therefore the rest of the estate as an SSI (Site of Scientific Interest). They galloped home in a high state of excitement and simply abandoned their horses uncharacteristically in the stable yard as they dashed into the house.

Ellie had gone to work in Hull but Nana Molly was in the drawing room entertaining Jack Tyler the Dale’s Preservation Secretary. Both adults turned with surprise as the girls barged in excitedly.

“Really girls! Manners, manners!” Molly scolded them.

“But Nana, look! Look at this. You too Mr Tyler; plee-ease! It’s fantastic!”

Callie proffered her phone to Molly while Maggie handed hers to Jack Tyler. Both adults studied the videos as their mouths curled into delighted smiles. The adults swapped phones as Jack grinned at Callie.

“You’re a good horseman for staying on like that. The horse must have been terrified.”

“So was I.” Callie grinned ruefully. “I couldn’t see it but it sounded like an attack by a leopard or something with all the noise and stuff.

“I don’t think so,” Jack smiled.”

“How can you be certain Jack,” Molly added,” it’s a huge piece of woodland and there’s two deer herds immediately to hand. A leopard could easily survive.”

“Well it wasn’t a leopard was it; it was those two martens fighting.”

Maggie settled the discussion.

“We found them both in the den later.”

“Then there are possibly three of them. Males and females don’t usually fight.” Jack opined.

“I dunn'o,” Maggie grinned, “you should hear my mum and dad sometimes.”

“More likely an invader getting too close to the den.” Jack continued.

“I’m transferring this to my ‘puter’ immediately, come on Mags’” Callie declared as both girls hurried off to Callie’s bedroom. Jack and Molly followed eagerly, both keen to see the expanded images.

As all four studied the computer screen the kits were to be clearly seen at the bottom of the den before the adult female leapt up and bit Callie’s finger.

“How many can you see?”

“About three I think.” Maggie replied.

The others agreed and when they had finished securing the images, Jack suggested they call English Nature.
“Do we need the anorak and boot brigade tramping all over the woods?” Jack wondered.

“It’ll secure our SSI status for the foreseeable future.” Molly replied even as she was picking up the phone. “Besides Jack, you’re one of the anorak and boot brigade yourself.”

“We’d better tell mum first.” Callie suggested. “Technically she’s the guardian of the estate.”

Molly nodded and redialled her daughter-in-law Ellie before handing the phone to her granddaughter Callie. Ellie answered and Callie responded excitedly.

“Hello mum.”

“Hello darling I noticed you disappeared early this morning, off to see Maggie I suppose.”

“Yes and whilst we were out riding, we found some pine martens and their den and their young.”

“Really, are your sure they were martens?”

“Of course they were, I’ve heard enough and read enough to know by now. Besides, we’ve got some supper videos of them. Shall we call English nature?”

“By all means petal. You know why?”

“Yeah, the SSI License thing. Okay mummy. Here’s Nana she want's to chat to you.”

Molly briefly chatted to Ellie before handing the phone back to Callie.

“Go on darling, call them.”

Callie searched on her computer and found a number then dialled the connection. A brief conversation soon brought one of the senior conservation officers to the phone. She persuaded Callie and Maggie to send their videos. Within a few minutes the identity of the martens was ‘officially confirmed’ and a conservation team was immediately despatched from York. With the phone-call over, Callie turned to her Nan.

“Officially recognised! That’s a bloody cheek as if I don’t know a pine marten when I see one.”

“They’ll still have to confirm it and get the location protected.” Jack Tyler warned. “Otherwise we’ll have every idiot and his brother tramping around the woods.”

“It’ll be difficult to keep people out Jack,” Molly replied, “there’s several public rights of way and the locals have treated those woods almost like public property. Harry never objected except if he caught poachers after the deer. Then the local police were always keen to help because the offenders were invariably hardened criminals from Leeds or Manchester. They stand out as strangers and find it hard to hide. The police usually charged them with poaching and fire-arms offences.”

“Be that as it may, they’ll have to get a court conservation order to protect the site. Nobody will be allowed within miles of the place – well, a few hundred yards at least.”

“What about us,” Callie protested, “it’s our land so surely we can go there.”

“If they don’t let us, we won’t tell them where it is.” Maggie chuckled.

“I’m sure if you’re nice and co-operate with them, they’ll be more than keen for you to join their team of observers to watch them.”

Callie was mildly mollified but not completely. She felt miffed that a bunch of bloody wild-life scientists could order her around on her own land; “And it is MY land!” She reminded herself, “After all I’m the duke around here.”
However, she kept her thoughts to herself. It didn’t do to play the ‘lord-of-the-manor’ too much around Yorkshire-men. They could be a stiff-necked and stubborn lot.

‘Bloody noblesse oblige’ she ruminated angrily.

“The locals will be more than pleased to co-operate darling,” Molly reassured her granddaughter.

“Will they want to set up an observation thingy?” Maggie wondered.

Molly and Jack shrugged simultaneously.

“I don’t know,” Jack confessed, “I don’t know how shy they are and if they’re likely to abandon the den if there’s too much disturbance. English Nature will sort all that out. They’re the experts.”

Callie pursed her lips and smirked.

“Yeah; and we all know that an ex is a has-been and a spurt is a drip under pressure.”

Molly had never heard the expression and she struggled to contain her smile.

“Now, now young lady, you’re becoming a right little cynic and only just in your teens!”

For the rest of the morning Callie and Maggie studied pine-martens on the computer while Molly prepared to receive an unknown quantity of visitors. Jack Tyler stayed to help whilst secretly hoping to be invited on the first visit to the pine-marten’s den.

The conservation officers and television crew arrived at eleven and both Callie and Molly realised they must have dropped everything in their haste. Introductions were made and both teenagers were invited to accompany the team and guide them to the site. The girls excitedly grabbed their binoculars whilst Molly and Jack were left frustrated back at the house where the communications team rigged up the satellite link to the nature-watch BBC studios in Bristol. Then they could only wait until the observer team had set up the recording equipment at the den.

The chief conservationist explained to Callie that peace and quiet where of the utmost importance and that the less disturbance there was; the more likely the pine-martens were to stay at their chosen den. He was impressed with both children as they kept total silence during the approach until they stopped and signed towards the huge ancient oak. Callie crept alongside the chief conservationist and slowly they slithered on their bellies through the bracken where the children’s horses had earlier made a path. Eventually they were on the right side of the tree and Callie pointed towards the hole, high up the trunk. Both of them silently pointed their binoculars towards the hole and simultaneously tensed as each saw a pointy nose, and sharp beady eyes staring out. The pair remained stock still as a long musteline body slid out of the hole followed by the bushy tail that confirmed it as a marten. Callie sensed the conservationist tension as he let out the slightest of gasps while the Marten scampered down the trunk and paused at the foot of the tree. There it groomed itself for a minute or so then slinked off towards the opposite edge of the clearing to disappear into the trees.

While the conservationist followed its track as long as he could see the marten, Callie had turned her binoculars to watch the den again. As another musteline face appeared she cautiously prodded her companion. He turned slightly irritated until Callie slowly pointed towards the den then his grin widened with delight as he mouthed ‘sorry’ and they both remained perfectly still. The face kept poking in and out of the hole for several minutes and Callie wondered if the second marten had spotted them. She was reassured when finally the animal emerged and settled to lie on the main branch. It did not seem disturbed or stressed and eventually the conservationist motioned to Callie to slide away on their tummies. Cautiously they returned to the rest of the party where finally the man was able to release his pent up excitement. In a hoarse excited whisper he declared.

“The girls are quite right! They’re pine Martens! – and I'm certain they’re the breeding pair.”

Silently the group returned to the house where preparations were started to set up a hide and install the cameras at the den. Callie and Maggie watched with growing excitement as various devices were removed from the Land-Rovers and tested before emplacement. By two o’clock the party were trudging back through the forest and by four the hide was set up.

“I’d dearly love to get a camera set up to see inside the den.” The camera-man declared.

“I’m afraid to risk the disturbance this soon,” the chief conservationist replied. “Let’s just see how they react to the hide.”

Finally and reluctantly, the main party departed leaving just the camera-man and a junior conservationist occupying the hide. Back at the house, Molly had made her library available as a base of operations. There, she and Jack were already watching the several screens when the observer group returned.

When they were enjoying a splendid tea Jack posed the same question that the camera-man had asked.

“Are you going to try and get a camera inside the den?”

“I’m hoping to but let them get used to the hide first. These young ladies have been a great help with their local knowledge; we were able to get right up to the clearing with a superb view thanks to their knowing about the hollow gulley in the bracken. It will make our approach invisible when we change watches.”

Maggie suddenly realised that the original hollow where they had been watching the deer could be utilised if the Martens proved to be unstressed by the first hide. She explained to the conservationists that it was closer to the tree and they nodded approval.

“Very good Maggie, we’ll go back tomorrow and look at it. It might enable us to condition them to accept us climbing up to the den.”

“How long will that take?” Callie asked.

He shrugged uncertainly.

“A couple of days I hope. This is all new territory.”

“Will we be able to watch them occasionally?” Maggie asked hopefully.

“Once the site is set up, yes, I see no reason not to.”

The girls shared excited smiles and left to examine some of the expensive camera equipment. A young female student showed the girls everything and they fell to nattering about the forest.

“Oh it’s huge,” Callie explained, “and it stretches for miles up the dale onto the moors but that’s mainly coniferous plantation. There’s another deciduous bit on the other side almost at the top of the dale but that’s miles up the dale. Hardly anybody goes up there it’s too remote and there isn’t a proper path. I sometimes ride up there with Sandie but I haven’t taken Maggie to that bit yet. The martens are living in the main deciduous part and that is natural ancient forest. It’s mostly on our land though the section that lies across the river belongs to Maggie’s family.”

“Well the deciduous forest is a boon to these guys, lots more food for them.” The student explained.

“Yeah, pity they can’t cross the river, then they’d have more forest to hunt in.”

“Oh dear, is there no crossing point?” The student asked.

“Not here,” Callie replied, “there’s one lower down but it’s a road bridge and they’d be in danger from the traffic.
The little wooden footbridge was damaged by floods before I came to live here. Consequently I started to cross further upriver where Sandie could wade without me getting my feet wet. That’s how I found the other ancient woods above the plantation.” Granddad told me they planted the coniferous trees during the war.

“Who’s Sandie?” The student asked.

“My horse, the one I was on when the martens dropped on me.”

Maggie grinned as the student frowned.

“What happened?”

Between chuckles and laughs, Maggie described events until Callie explained.

“It wasn’t funny for Sandie. The vet had to stitch one of the cuts. I have to treat it every day. He’s okay though. His cuts are not affected by his saddle or harness.”

“Have you not thought of repairing the bridge? It would enable the martens to cross.”

“I’ll have to check and see about funds. Money’s tight.”

“Have you mentioned it to your father, the Duke of Denton?”

A pregnant silence descended as the student realised she had said something out-of-place.

“What’s wrong?” She asked uncertainly.

Maggie answered as she sensed that Callie was a little embarrassed.

“Uuuhm, Callie IS the duke. Or she will be when she reaches eighteen. Her dad and granddad are both dead.”

The student hesitated before replying. It was obvious she was now confused and embarrassed.

“But, you’re, you’re a girl – aren’t you?”

Callie compressed her lips before finding the words. It didn’t do to get upset when the girl had made a perfectly innocent assumption. Callie took her out of earshot and explained.

“No. I’m not actually. I’m transgendered. Technically, I’m still a male.”

“Oh! Oh, I’m so sorry. But surely you don’t run the estate; I mean you’re only – what, fourteen?”

“I’m thirteen, fourteen in a couple of months. My Mum and Nan run the estate, though I’m learning the ropes.”

The girl smiled as her eyes scanned the house and across the yard to the moors above the dale.

“And all this is yours.”

Callie nodded, half expecting some sort of envious comment or worse, a tirade of political criticism. Instead the girl nodded before adding.

“I don’t envy you; you’ll have your work cut out looking after all this.”

“I can only try.” Callie admitted as they rejoined Maggie.

“Have you thought about a degree in biological sciences, you know – what with the wild-life aspect and everything.”

“Actually, yes. I was torn between zoology and or botany. Probably zoology what with the pine martens and the smooth snakes. Ours are the only ones known to live north of Oxford, global warming might be the cause but we keep their existence a secret.

“What! You’ve got smooth snakes! This far north?!”

“Yes. My grandfather told me about them and he showed me where they are. We told English nature. That’s why the moor is designated an SSI. Now the woods will have to be designated as well.”

“Are you pleased?”

“Yes and no. It makes the estate difficult to work at a profit.”

“What about the quarrying project?” The girl asked.

“We are not seriously affected because Cragdale is well away from Denton Hall and the forested areas. They only want to extract a smallish amount from our side. The bulk of the stone is to come out of our neighbours' land.” Callie explained.

“Our land is more seriously affected,” Maggie interjected. “Callie is only seriously affected if they have to widen and upgrade the road. We’re suggesting they relay the old railway tracks.”

“Now that’s a good idea. Environmentally friendly as well.”

“Yes,” Callie replied, “we’re ahead of you on that. My Mum and Nan have already proposed it to the county council.”

“Glad to hear it. Well, I must be off. I relieve the watchers at four in the hide.”

Callie and Maggie watched the girl clamber into the land-rover with another camera-man and it sped off toward the forest. They returned to the house to look at the monitors and the controller showed them some footage of the male returning with a rat. It gave both girls a real sense of satisfaction.

~~ooo000ooo~~

Heir to a Title, Chapter 20

Within three days the conservationists concluded that the marten family seemed undisturbed by the presence of the hide. The decision was made to try and install more cameras around and in the tree with a tentative attempt to try and install one inside the den.

The first phase went well and by the mid-afternoon, there were six cameras installed at strategic locations around the glade, the final objective now confronted the observers, how to get an inside view of the den.

Maggie had gone into town with her mum so Callie was alone with the scientists as they debated how to approach the den without too much disturbance. The noise and sound of the aluminium extension-ladders coupled with safety harnesses and other paraphernalia were causing the conservationists some concern. The clanking and rattling of aluminium ladders would almost certainly frighten the Martens away. Callie sat quietly while the observers debated the health and safety issues until they finally concluded the noise would cause too much disturbance and stress to the creatures. The last thing they wanted was to frighten the animals away, or worse, cause them to kill and eat the young. Reluctantly, they called the scheme off for the day and retired to discuss alternative approaches. As they drove back to the house an air of gloom descended on the group for they had so wanted to capture pictures of the babies in the den. These would captivate an audience and make any footage much more marketable for a wildlife series. Callie smiled to herself as she listened to the scientists lamenting the idea of people only being interested in warm fluffy babies.

Back at the house she went into the library and chatted with one of the cameramen as he was packing away an assortment of different cameras.

“Which ones are the video cameras that are triggered be movement,” Callie asked nonchalantly. “I heard them talking about them.”

“These two,” he replied, showing them proudly. “They’re the latest bits of kit and capture superb images.”

Callie fingered the ‘bendy’ necks and realised the actual camera lenses could be squeezed through a hole just one inch diameter.

“Are these like those cameras surgeons sometimes use to look inside you?”

“Well they’re similar but these are slightly bigger. They use a slightly wider lens to give a better, panoramic image,” the cameraman explained.

“They must be expensive,” Callie observed as she picked one up.

The cameraman watched like a hawk to make sure the girl didn’t damage it. However, he knew the cameras to be very robust to withstand the anticipated knocks from close proximity to animal trails and hopefully inside their dens.

“Be careful darling, they’re bloody expensive!” The cameraman smiled. “It'd be more than my job’s worth to lose these beauties.”

“Why the cable sockets?” she asked, “I thought they were battery operated.”

“Not these, they transmit direct to the hide and then to the house. To operate constantly, they have to be connected to bigger batteries or even a generator or main’s supply.”

“Oh was that that little petrol thingy they were hiding in the bracken well away from the hide – and the tree?”

“Yes. It’s called a silent runner. You can stand beside it and hardly know it’s running.”

“Ah! I see, so it won’t disturb the martens.”

The cameraman nodded as Molly appeared with a tray of tea and buttered scones. She smiled at him.

“Is she bothering you?”

“Not at all Your Grace, we’ve had to pack up for today. We don’t want to disturb them too much and tomorrow we have to work out a way to get the cameras inside the den. We’re going back to the hotel soon and we’ll be back tomorrow. Is there anywhere secure I can leave this kit?”

“Yes. We can lock them in the gun room. Callie can you fetch the keys, darling?”

Even as she skipped off to collect the keys a plan was forming in her mind. She would need Maggie’s help. She helped the cameraman store the cameras in the gun room whist asking how they worked. Finally, after afternoon tea and armed with enough information, she phoned her friend.

“D’ you want to have some fun, Mags?”

“You know me sister. Life’s as dull as hell without you around.”

Callie hugged herself as she explained her plan.

“Are you sure it’ll work?”

“Why not? I’ve watched how he connects it together, it’s painfully simple. Each connection will only match with its mate; I suppose it’s so as they can assemble the stuff in the dark or in difficult places.”

“Like oak trees in remote forests at midnight,” Maggie chuckled.

“Exactly, and I know where all the trigger cameras are placed. We can sneak up to the back of the tree easily.

"They didn’t put any cameras on that side cos’ they were short of kit and too afraid to disturb the beasties too much. The hardest part will be laying out the cable back to the generator set far away behind the hide. That’s about two hundred yards away but we’ll have to drag the cable in a wide arc to avoid the trigger cameras.”

“What about the connection to the hide where it transmits to the house?”

“We’ll surprise them with a fait accompli as we present them with two cable connections to plug in.”

“Won’t they see you on their cameras?”

“No. We can sneak around the back and drape some black cloth over them so if they are activated, they won’t show anything. They’ll think the cameras have failed and they won’t repair them until the morning for fear of frightening the martens.”

“Okay, count me in. See you about eleven-ish.”

~~oo000oo~~

And so it was, two riders crept from Denton hall loaded with cameras and cables.

Having played many lonely childhood games of big game hunters and explorers, Callie knew the forest better even than the estate gamekeepers. Midnight found the two riders silently approaching the glade after having ‘blinded’ two of the cameras with black cloths draped over them. Another detour brought them to the edge of the glade that put the huge oak tree between their approach and the line of sight from the hide.

“Can you pay out this cable as I approach the tree, Babes?” Callie whispered as she slipped off her trainers.

“Anything you say, Lieutenant,” Maggie giggled softly.

“Oh and sling these over your saddle. I’ll have to climb bare foot.”

“Pooh! They stink.” Maggie joked.

“Not half as much as the stink there’ll be if we mess this up. Now no more noise, I’ve got to be as silent as the grave.”

“Or a mouse,” Maggie added.

“Quieter than a mouse, Babes, martens catch and eat mice.”

Maggie settled in her saddle at the edge of the clearing and paid out the cable while Callie cautiously walked her horse silently to the ‘rear’ of the tree. Maggie watched as Callie stood easily on her saddle, caught hold of a low branch, swung her legs over the bough then quickly climbed the tree before disappearing into the higher branches where the foliage was thickest.

‘Gosh! She’s good,’ Maggie thought enviously.

Within minutes Maggie watched first the feet then the rest of Callie re-emerge from the dense foliage and silently descend.

Maggie also felt bound to also admire Sandie’s obedience, for the stallion had stood still and silent throughout the whole event, even when Callie placed her feet on his withers and slid gently into the saddle. Then to Maggie’s amazement, Callie slowly backed Sandie back along the exact same approach line without deviating whilst paying out the stiff cable from the large loops hooked over the saddle horn. Thus the horse and rider had remained invisible to the hide and its camera all the time.

Having completed the first part, the next part proved the most difficult. They had to pay out over four hundred yards of cable as they took a wide sweep around the backs of the trigger cameras. Periodically, they had to stop to connect each coil as they paid out the full length.

“Good job we brought the horses,” Maggie whispered, “I’d never have carried all this wire without the saddle horns. Where did you get these western saddles?”

“Some friends came over from Canada and they brought a couple as presents for my dad and uncle before I was born.”

“Well they’re handy for carrying the coils,” Maggie finished thankfully.

Eventually the girls reached the generator and connected the relevant camera leads to the correct sockets.

Finally, it only remained to pay out the leads to the back of the hide and surprise the observers with the precious cable sockets. This time they left the horses by the generator and slithered through the bracken on their bellies to arrive at the hide just as the observers were changing shifts. They watched as the relief pair entered then silently joined them like wraiths emerging from the bracken. They paused and eaves-dropped the observers murmuring quietly in the hide.

“Hi Jason, hi Sally,” the relief pair introduced themselves. “Anything worthwhile to tell?”

“Two of the bloody cameras have gone down,” moaned Jason, the cameraman. “They’re the ones closest to the trunk of the big tree and they give the best shots.”

“Dammit, which ones specifically?”

“Camera seven attached to the hazel tree and camera six on the big beech,” Callie whispered to their astonishment.

Arthur, the relief observer, span around in surprise.

“What the hell are you doing here, and how do you know about the camera fails?”

“Connect these to the console and you’ll find out.”

As she produced the connecting sockets, Wendy, the relief camerawoman, demanded: “Those are Stephen’s new camera cables, they cost a fortune! What are you doing with them?”

“Connect them to your console and you’ll see.”

She snatched them from Callie’s grasp and examined them carefully.

“If you’ve damaged these, there’ll be hell to play. These are for the den camera.”

“Yes. So connect them,” Maggie added to give Callie a bit of ‘back-up’.

Wendy frowned at the young girls as she and Jason connected the new cable sockets and screwed them tight.

“Now switch on,” Callie suggested.

“Why?” Jason demanded.

“Well switch on and if everything works, you’ll see,” Callie persisted.

“Are you trying to tell me -?” But Jason was interrupted by an excited squeak from Sally.

He craned his neck to see an icon of the den interior flickering to life and quickly stabilise as Wendy reached across to adjust the console.

“Bloody-hell girls, you’ve put a camera in the den! How the hell did you do that?”

Callie and Maggie preened themselves proudly as the four adults stared mesmerised at the spectacular images of two adult pine-martens curled up at the bottom of the den.

Finally Arthur turned to the girls.

“Go on; explain; how did you do it?”

Callie began her account: “There’s a short crack going up through the top of the den and into the main fork of the trunk. I saw it before the mummy marten bit me yesterday. When I saw Stephen’s cameras in the library and noted the extended bendy necks, I realised it would fit through the crack and reach down into the top of the den above the entrance. When I got to the big fork above the den, I snaked the flexible camera lens down the hole. As you know, there’s a little battery-powered monitor screen on the camera itself to make sure you’re getting a good image. I checked the screen, adjusted the bendy neck to direct the lenses accurately and the rest is history as you say.

“Oh, and I secured a black plastic rubble bag like a tent over the camera hole in the fork to keep it dry. It’ll also stop some of the rain water seeping down the crack. The kits will be drier from now on.”

“Well you little – what shall I say – genius!” Arthur grinned. “And you didn’t disturb them at all!”

“Not as far as I know,” Callie studied the screen image of the sleeping pair and added. “They don’t look disturbed.”

“Pity we can’t see the kits,” Sally lamented.

“Crikey!” Maggie protested amiably. “You don’t want much do you? Shall I ask them to wake up their kits and give you a comic turn?”

There was a low collective chuckle as Sally turned.

“Well indeed not.” She grinned expansively as she reached out and hugged both girls to her. “You’ve been brilliant.”

She then turned to the camera crew. “Can you transmit them to the house?”

“There’s nobody there, but we are recording everything,” Jason enthused. “They’re brilliant pictures and superb colour.”

“Shall we call Bill, the chief conservationist?” Jane mused.

“Yeah, why not,” Arthur nodded, “it’s not every day you get the first live pictures of Yorkshire’s first known breeding Pine Martens.”

“They might have been breeding here for generations,” Callie suggested, “my granddad always thought so.”

“Well they’re still the first pictures,” Jason declared, “and thanks to you girls. Well done!”

The six sat around watching the pictures hoping for some activity but the marten’s inactivity - whilst being frustrating for the observers - served to confirm that the creatures had not been disturbed.

Satisfied that things were going well, Callie and Maggie left with Jason and Sally while Arthur and Jane settled down to do the graveyard watch from midnight to six a.m.

When the four reached the generator, Jason gave a start as Sandie appeared out of the bracken with Lucy following closely.

“Jesus! That gave me a fright. I thought they were red deer!”

Callie and Maggie grinned patronisingly as Callie remarked in jest: “Call yourself a naturalist and you can’t tell a horse from a deer.”

“Watch it miss know-all, or you’ll get banned from the hide.”

“That’s not fair!” Callie was about to protest further until she saw Jason’s face split into a grin.

“Go on,” he encouraged them. “I’ve got to refuel the generator from the Land Rover. See you back at the house.”

Both girls needed no further encouragement and rode cautiously back to the house depending on the horses to find their own footings. When they returned, Molly was standing at the kitchen door with Jane, Maggie’s mum.

“Where have you two been? We’ve been worried sick!” Molly demanded.

“To the hide to see how it’s going on,” Callie replied confidently.

“You know perfectly well it’s dangerous in the dark. You could fall and nobody would know.”

“But there were two of us and we’ve each got our mobiles.”

“It’s still very stupid. What prompted you to visit the hide? There’s nothing to see in the dark!”

Maggie almost contradicted the old Duchess but caught herself just in time. She quickly corrected herself.

“We just wanted to see what it was like sitting out all night, Mrs Denton.”

Jane Arnold almost choked as she hastened to correct her daughter.

“It’s ‘Your Grace’ to the Duchess young lady, and don’t you forget it!”

Maggie tried to protest.

“But you call her Molly! I –”

Molly smiled and motioned her head.

“Inside! Both of you. You’re filthy! Bath, then bed!”

The pair sullenly trooped inside and obediently complied. They could wait until morning for the full story to emerge.

And it did.

The commotion in the yard woke the children as the television crew and preservation people arrived with over a dozen extra visitors. As they were washing and dressing, Molly Denton appeared with a gaggle of media people plus the camera crews.

“Wait! We’re not dressed!” Callie cried in fear that somebody might burst in and discover her secret.

Molly just managed to stem the invasion of the girls’ bedroom as Callie emerged from the bathroom in her knickers. Maggie had just pulled up her leggings and was reaching for her top.

“Oops! Sorry girls,” Molly apologised as she closed the door behind her so the visitors could not see her granddaughter’s semi-naked state.

“Nana-a!” Callie cried. “Can’t a girl have any privacy?”

“Never mind privacy young ladies! Is this true about the camera?”

Maggie nodded guiltily as Callie turned to complete her tuck and adjust her leggings.

“Why didn’t you tell me? Climbing trees at midnight indeed! You could have been killed!”

Callie turned to protest: “Oh come on Nana! I’ve been climbing trees for years. I’ve even been to the top of the giant Wellingtonian tree at the lakeside.”

“Yes, and Grandpa gave you a good thrashing for doing it.”

“He also said I was very brave –”

“And stupid!” Molly finished.

“Well I wasn’t stupid climbing the oak tree, it was easy. The branches are strong and easy to reach once you’ve got up to the bottom one.”

“And how did you do that?” Molly demanded.

“I stood on Sandie's back. He’ll do anything for me.”

The Duchess wagged her head in despair. “I don’t know what I’m going to do with you. Anyway, the pictures are on the monitor in the library, you can explain what you did to the camera crews.”

“They already know, Your Grace.” Maggie confessed. “We told the observers in the hide last night.”

“Well there’re some famous television presenters who want to speak to you. You’re going on television.”

“Who are they Nana?” Callie begged.

“You’ll know soon enough. Now finish dressing - for the outdoors I suggest. They might want to film you by the den.”

“I doubt it Nana, the less tumult around the den the better. They’ve taken enough risks already. Nobody knows what might just cause the martens to ‘up sticks and leave’.”

“Well they’ll want to film you anyway; the presenter thinks it will add to the whole story – two country girls clambering up and down trees at midnight! We’ll be in the stable yard and they can film you saddling up Sandie and Lucy.”

Callie had a sudden brainwave.

“There’s another tree very like the den tree but it’s about three miles away on the other side of the forest. If they want action shots, we can do a replay my climb up to the den on that one. There’s a low branch where we can climb up off Sandie’s saddle just like I did last night. Nobody will know it’s a different tree.”

Molly stared at her grandchild. “Good God girl, you must know the forest better than the game-keeper. Do you know every tree in the woods?”

Callie looked slightly askance at her grandmother’s surprise.

“Not quite but I know most of the deciduous woods and the paths that are not public rights of way; I’ve played there all my life,” Callie boasted proudly. “Besides, I own them, so I should know about them. It’s my duty to protect the land, isn’t that what dukes and duchesses do?”

Molly was secretly glad that Callie seemed to be showing an awareness for the country’s heritage and her responsibility both for it and towards it. She was however, slightly concerned about her granddaughter’s possessive streak.

“That’s enough bragging young lady. I’ve warned you before about that. We’ll see what the presenter says about a replay for the cameras. Now hurry up or all the breakfast will be gone.”

Both girls needed little further prompting and quickly appeared in the dining room to claim their share of breakfast. They were busy eating when the television presenter entered and grinned.

“Your grandmother has just told us of an alternative location where we can shoot some story-line, without material, without disturbing the Pine-martens. Another tree or something.”

Callie looked up from her breakfast and nodded as she finished chewing. She wiped her mouth with her napkin as she had been taught then spoke. “Yes. It’s a long walk though and it’s too steep to get the Land Rovers there without tearing up the woodland. I found it while out riding one afternoon.”

“Not to worry young lady, we often have to walk to remote locations. Shall we go this morning?”

Arrangements were quickly made and Maggie offered to collect another two horses from her farm. When six horses were assembled in the stable yard Callie asked: “Are you all okay with the riding? I thought with all that camera kit and our ropes, it’d be best to use the horses.”

One of the camera crew replied: “I’m not much of a rider but these guys will be brilliant for helping to carry stuff. I’ll just ask somebody to help guide my horse. My hands will be busy filming our approach from horse-back.”

“I’ll do that,” Maggie offered,” she’s my mother’s mare and she’s used to me.”

The party eventually set off at eleven and the horses made short work of the trek. Altogether they walked about four miles and the presenter’s smile spread across his face when they reached the tree.

“This is perfect Callie. A lovely mature oak tree just like the den tree.”

“Will we film the scene now or tonight?” Callie asked. “We did the real thing in the dark.”

“We’ll set the cameras up and leave the cameramen to look after them. Then we’ll return tonight to do the shoot.”

Callie turned sympathetically to the abandoned cameramen.

“Sorry guys. It looks like rain, have you got some food?”

They turned and showed their food packs and tent.

“We’ll be okay. We’ll just roam around here and get some background pictures.”

“Okay. See you around ten,” the presenter replied as the now unburdened horses trotted happily for home.

The weather proved to be kind and the threatened rain held off most of the night. By four a.m., the television crew had got their pictures. Back at the house the conservationists had already got their first pictures of the marten kits and everybody was celebrating the success. As they joined the party and studied the live footage of the bright-eyed kits, the presenter was doubly pleased.

“This’ll make brilliant wild-life footage, just look at their little faces. Who could resist them?” the presenter remarked.

“Well, grey squirrels and nesting birds for a start,” Molly replied, “especially pheasants.”

“We’ll transmit these pictures live to ‘Nature Watch’ starting this morning. Just watch the ratings jump when these little beauties appear on screen.”

The celebratory mood extended until seven a.m., when phones started to ring as arrangements and announcements were made. Callie and Maggie however, went to bed. Two consecutive nights without sleep had left them tired but happy. It was that night that Maggie discovered the full truth about Callie’s transgenderism. She had noticed the unusual ‘bulge’ when Callie had worn loose knickers for sleeping but that morning she finally saw Callie totally naked.

“You’ve actually got a boy’s bits.” She observed whilst feeling surprised that she didn’t feel at all threatened.

“Yeah; everything,” Callie replied very self-consciously.

“Are you going to keep them?”

“I’ll have to if I’m to father an heir.”

“Yeah but do you want to keep them, or would you prefer to become a woman – you know – have the op thing?”

Callie hesitated before admitting: “I’m not sure to be honest. It’s a bit confusing – I mean, sometimes I do and sometimes I don’t.”

“What! You mean you don’t know? That’s weird.”

“No it isn’t!” Callie snapped defensively. “What do you know about it? The transgender thing is humongously complicated and doctors are only now coming to terms with everything. Sometimes I’m quite comfortable being a boy then other times I’m happy being a girl. Most of the time, I’m not even bothered. So there! Put that in your heterosexist pipe and smoke it!”

Maggie took no offence for her curiosity was now truly piqued.

“But what about friends and – you know – partners. Do you like boys or girls?”

Callie paused thoughtfully as she sucked her cheek.

“I can’t say for certain. I haven’t thought about it much. Girls are more fun; you know, to talk to and go out shopping and stuff.”

“What, you mean you prefer girls; you know – sexually and stuff.”

“I think I prefer girls but I haven’t made up my mind yet. When I do decide, you’ll be the first to know.”

“What I want to know is if I’m safe around you.”

“Well you slept in my bed last night and nothing happened – did it?” Callie asked just to be certain.

“Ha! I wouldn’t have been able to find you anyway, it’s that big. But yeah, it’s fabulous bed. Is it, you know, the ducal bed’? Did Queen Elizabeth the First or somebody sleep in it?”

“Flipping 'eck Mag’s, it’s not that old! But yes, it’s the ducal bed. Neither my Nan nor my mum want to sleep in it any more, too many memories for them I suppose.”

“So one day, you might use it as the ‘bridal bed' then?” Maggie giggled.

Callie grinned back.

“Provided the bride doesn’t think there are any ghosts in this room.”

Maggie’s grin turned to concern.

“It’s not haunted is it?”

“Nah, but there’s lots of noises, you know, creaks and groans as the building settles; then there’s usually the wind moaning around the chimney pots when it’s stormy. The sounds could be mistaken for ghosts.”

“So will you get married, you know, father children and stuff?” Maggie pressed curiously.

Callie’s grin turned to a thoughtful frown.

“I have to if I’m to produce an heir. Noblesse-oblige and all that.”

“Ugh! You make it sound like a bloody stud farm.”

~~oo000oo~~

Heir to a Title, Chapter 21

After getting dressed, the friends skipped down stairs for lunch only to find the morning room full of guests. Molly was playing ‘mine hostess’ while, unusually, Callie’s mother Ellie had taken a day off. They had been discussing Callie and Maggie’s exposure to the media.

Somebody from the media team had recognised Callie, and remembered her exploits in rescuing the little girl from the weir at Windsor. Ellie had been laying out some ground rules to protect her daughter from any media circus surrounding her transgenderism. As Callie recognised there was ‘some sort of issue’ the cheerful smile faded from her face.

“Hello Mummy, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing darling, just laying down the ground rules to protect you from the press.”

Maggie looked slightly puzzled because she had been expecting a celebratory reception but the mood in the morning room obviously harbinged something less welcome. She turned to her mother with a questioning expression as her cheerful countenance also clouded to match Callie’s. Callie turned apologetically to Maggie then explained briefly: “There was an incident at school last term. A little girl was drowning in the flooded river and I was photographed rescuing her. Everybody recognised my female underwear and the media had a tranny feeding-frenzy.”

She turned to her mother as she spoke and Ellie nodded confirmation before adding: “There will be the footage of you doing the camera placement in the tree and a full interview but there’s to be no reference to Callie’s transgenderism.”

Maggie was a little perplexed by this until Callie explained further: “If they’re allowed to ask questions about my transgenderism, the whole thing will turn into a sensationalised story about my transgenderism and nothing about getting the camera located in the den. It would immediately turn a good nature programme into a flipping media circus. It’d be ‘tranny’ this or transsexual that. Believe me Maggie, I’ve been there; mum’s right.”

The media team fell guiltily silent as they recognised the weary resignation if the young girl’s voice. It was a premature cynicism born of intensive media abuse and invasion by their own colleagues in the gutter press.

Several were privately asking themselves: ‘Is this what we do to transgender kids to make them this cynical and defensive so early in their lives?’

Ellie recognised the sobering mood and smiled towards Jane Arnold to confirm agreement before moving to lighten the depressive atmosphere.

“Well, ladies and gentlemen, now we’ve established the boundaries for interviewing Callie, shall we finish lunch then interview the girls formally.”

“Shall we do it in here or by the tree in the woods?” the chief presenter asked.

Ellie turned to the girls with a quizzical eyebrow.

“Well girls, where would you prefer?”

“We could do it in two places or even three or four.” Maggie suggested. “You know; some chatting while riding to the marten’s den on the horses, next we could do some questions at the tree, then insert the night-time videos that we’ve already got and finally conclude the interview back here at the house.”

The producer stared at Maggie with slack-jawed appreciation.

“Why that’s excellent young lady; very creative thinking.”

He turned hopefully to the camera crew.

“Could we squeeze that much in.? I know it’s a bit short notice for lugging your kit around.”

The camera crews exchanged looks then turned to Callie.

“If we can borrow those horses we had the other day. They were very well trained. They would ease the load.”

“We should be able to.”

“I’m not a very good rider,” the presenter apologised.

“You can borrow Sandie.” Callie offered generously. “He’s my horse but he’s very well behaved. I’ll ride Rocket. He’s a gelding but still a bit of a chancer. It’ll be a bit lively but ‘heigh-ho’; if I’m suddenly taken away by Rocket getting startled, it’ll add some interest to the proceedings. Sandie will keep the mares well behaved.”

None of the camera crew or Maggie enlightened the presenter as to Sandie being a stallion. He was nervous enough as it was. The director accepted the plans and turned gratefully to Maggie.

“Thanks for that idea Maggie. It gives us excellent scope to expand the story with the locations driving the interview content. How does everybody feel about young Margaret’s suggestions?”

A mood of consensus prevailed and preparations were swiftly completed. The weather even played its part by first being sunny during the critical outdoor shots; then the rain arrived when they rode back to the house. As they arrived home, a loud crash of thunder accompanied their final steps and Rocket reared up in fright. Callie was hard put to calm him down and the camera crew got some excellent shots of Callie’s horsemanship as the gelding reared and pranced several times before calming down.

David, the famous presenter, swallowed nervously as Callie finally eased Rocket back into the group and they entered the stable yard. Once they had dismounted the presenter sighed with relief.

“I’m glad I had this horse, she’s very well behaved.”

The camera crew could not suppress their chuckles as Maggie enlightened him.

“She’s a he, David. Sandie’s a full entire stallion, have a look.”

The presenter’s eyes widened with surprise and shock as he recognised the obvious masculinity.

“Bloody hell! Isn’t it dangerous having a stallion amongst all these mares?”

“Well you rode him alright,” Callie grinned. “Did he behave well enough for you?”

“Well – yes; I must confess. He was a perfect gentleman. It’s just I always thought, you know, stallions are dangerous.”

“Not Sandie, sir.” Callie reassured him. “I’ve had him since a newborn foal and he’s been reared and trained with love and tenderness. He’s pretty obedient even when there’s a mare in season amongst the party. He’s well known throughout the county and is often used at stud to breed foals with a calm temperament.”

The presenter grinned knowingly.

“So he’s not suffering from any frustrations then.”

Callie wagged her head emphatically.

“No. I have a strict rule. If anybody wants his services, their mare must be put to run free in the big paddock. I don’t tie the mare in a loose-box and make Sandie mount them. That’s tantamount to equine rape. If the pair is free to run and test each other, it’s a far more satisfactory outcome and conception is far less traumatic.”

“Doesn’t he get, you know- possessive and defensive?” David wondered.

Callie shrugged her shoulders.

“No, not so far, he still comes to my call. It might change a bit when he gets more mature but so far, he’s always been the perfect gent.”

By this time the whole interview team were back in the house enjoying tea and scones. For the media team the whole day was a complete success and the interview material was to be used as a precursor for the first half hour programme about the martens. A week later as they savoured their idyllic summer vacation, both girls were invited with their mothers to preview the programme.

After sitting through the viewing, the producer took them to the studio canteen.

“So what d’ you think?” he asked Callie.

“The colours show up well. I didn’t realise the deciduous woods could look so green.”

The producer grimaced slightly.

“I meant the content, all about the martens and your part in placing the all important den camera. No mention at all of your transgenderism.”

“Precisely,” Ellie interjected, “that’s exactly as I wanted it.”

“Are you happy for it to go out, as it is? If you are, can you please sign the forms?”

Ellie read through the contract for one last, final time then set her signature on Callie’s behalf. Callie read it as well and asked about a couple of words and phrases.

“Does this mean you’ll be more-or-less occupying the hide until they leave the den?”

“Just about; the naturalists tell us they’ll probably be moving on in a month or two. Nobody’s exactly sure how long the kits hang around, but they’ll need to develop hunting skills and that’ll probably take them until late autumn or even next spring. Nobody’s certain when marten kits finally make the break. It probably depends on the food supply and weather.”

Callie fell silent she felt all her questions were answered, but Maggie raised a difficult point.

“What happens if – or, more likely, when people recognise Callie as the person who rescued the little girl?”

“There’s not a lot we can do about that. But anybody trying to enter the Denton Estate uninvited will be guilty of trespass if they cause Callie any problems. Any stress or distress can be legally construed as damage. We cannot do anything about the public rights of way through the woodlands but fortunately the marten’s den is well away from any footpaths. As to the paparazzi trying to invade your privacy on the estate, you’ll have the full protection of the law.”

With Maggie’s question answered, the conversation turned to pine martens and filming wild-life. By two p.m. the meal was finished and mothers and daughters left for a shopping trip in Leeds. Maggie and Callie savoured the cheques they had received and after cashing them they were soon launching themselves into the shops and boutiques of Leeds. They arrived home that evening replete with shopping trophies and a few presents for their families.

~~oo000oo~~

The filming of the pine martens continued with considerable success and Callie ended up making many friends amongst the various naturalist societies who showed interest. Jack Tyler, the Dales hiker, especially became a firm friend after realising that Callie was a determined preservationist. This was demonstrated when Callie attended her first planning investigation concerning the re-opening of the old quarry at Cragdale Bluff.

For the first time, Callie met the company directors who had already won the extraction licence from the government. After their first encounter, she realised just how pushy and inconsiderate the corporate denizens in London and Leeds could be. This was compounded by the discovery that one of the senior proponents of the scheme shared the same surname as Callie. He was a small ferrety individual but what he lacked in stature and presence, he made up for in aggression and persistence.

He had done background checks on all the members of the preservation society for his usual negotiating technique was to try and find some weakness in each of the ‘opposition’ as he tended to view them. Not for James Denton was the conciliatory, negotiated path to resolution an option. He sought to get his own way every time by hook or by crook.

As they adjourned for a morning coffee, the man intercepted Callie as she made for the lavatory.

“Are you the Denton boy; the heir to the dukedom?”

Callie paused and turned to face him. She had already summed him up during the meeting because Jack Tyler had pre-warned her about his devious ways.

“Yes. Are you the quarryman, come to dig in the dirt? Or is that dig up the dirt?”

“Oh very clever laddie, you don’t much resemble a lad, do you; in a dress and high heels?”

“I get by, and you don’t much resemble a man either with the countenance of a mustela.”

“Don’t be cheeky you little bastard!”

“You started it, oh – and I’m not a bastard. If I was, your brat would have maybe inherited my estate.”

“That issue’s not resolved yet, you’ve got to prove you’re a man.”

“Wrong again, Mr Denton,” (Callie emphasised the word ‘Mr’) “The rules on primogeniture changed with the royal accession of Prince William’s first child. Did you not read the royal proclamation? It applies to the nobility, as well as royalty.”

Callie had struck unerringly at James Denton’s weak spot. The director bitterly resented his grandfather having been the second child two generations back in the ducal line.

“Well that remains to be tested in law, and you’ve still got to find a woman who’s prepared to marry a freak not to mention bear it a child.”

Callie’s face turned white with anger but she managed to contain her rage. She span on her heel and left him standing outside the ladies’ lavatory. He was still there when she emerged several minutes later. As he sneered, she addressed him with all the aplomb she could muster.

“Do you usually hang around outside the ladies’ lavatories Mr Denton? You could get arrested if a lady complains.”

She spoke loudly for the benefit of several other directors who were just emerging from the gents’.

“We’ve got unfinished business,” he snapped angrily.

“Not here Mr Denton, not outside the ladies’ loos; best we discuss it in the conference room, after coffee.”

His face turned red with suppressed rage but he managed to contain his frustration.

As the afternoon session got underway, it became apparent to Callie and Ellie that James Denton was desperate to scotch Ellie’s proposal that the old railway bed be re-metalled. His stubborn opposition to the idea baffled Ellie and Callie picked up on her mother’s suspicion. When they broke for afternoon coffee, Callie motioned to her mum to find somewhere private. They left the conference room on the pretext of going to the lavatory and there found privacy.

“What’s up darling?” Ellie asked her daughter.

“You seem upset with the Ferret’s determination to build a road instead of the rail option.” Callie observed.

“Well aren’t you darling? You know what it will entail; loads of dust in summer or mud in winter, hundreds of trucks daily and all the incessant noise of trucks rumbling through the dale day and night. The rail option is much cheaper because they won’t have to widen the cutting through the bluff, they can re-utilise the old tunnel and it will only entail two or three trains a day each way. There will be far less noise and clamour with infinitely less traffic movements. What’s more, the villagers won’t have hundreds of trucks trundling all day and night through the village. I can’t understand why Ferrety Denton is dead set against it. Environmentally, the railway is by far the better option and cheaper too. All the cutting, tunnelling and grading has been done before when they opened the old quarry.”

Both mother and daughter were perplexed by the Ferret’s intransigence and returned to the table in a subdued mood born of puzzlement and consequent suspicions. Once again James Denton was holding forth about his ideas that trucks would provide for greater flexibility and faster responses to demand changes when the markets fluctuated. Ellie listened impatiently and found herself forced to intervene when she felt that one of her great uncle’s claims was just too preposterous to go unchallenged. She stated her belief but James Denton became even more belligerent. Ellie was baffled.

Callie on the other hand had studiously employed her computer skills to ‘bore-down’ into the internet information on transport companies. Using her mother’s business lap-top she was able to employ some of her mother’s business apps and licensed search engines to legitimately search deeper into the records at Company’s House. After ploughing through the mountains of names listed under ‘beneficial owners’, Callie eventually found a directorship belonging to James Denton Esq. Cautiously she cross-referenced the name with the Land Registry’s lists of registered land-owners in Scarsdale and she quickly established that her great, great uncle James (Ferrety) Denton owned a large fleet of trucks. Callie had considerable cause to be thankful for the apps that her mother Ellie used for business purposes every day on her laptop for it gave Callie loads of vital information.

By now, the fourteen-year-old Callie was well used to keeping a ‘poker face’ in the public arena. After briefly reading and confirming that it was definitely her great, great uncle, Callie cautiously slid the laptop under her mother’s nose.

Ellie frowned impatiently until Callie tapped the screen with her finger.

“What is it?” Ellie whispered somewhat annoyed at her daughter’s interruption.

“Look!” Callie whispered urgently. “The ferret; he owns a whole fleet of ‘rigids’. They are those four axled trucks that carry stone and minerals.”

“I know what a rigid is girl!” Her mother whispered back as she quickly grasped what Callie was driving at. “But my god; you’re dead right! And he’s the managing director of the conglomerate.”

It was obvious that Denton was poised to win the haulage contract for the limestone. It would be a lucrative contract for at least a decade or possibly longer.

Ellie was now stuck with a conundrum. Should she raise the issue now at the conference or later at the public inquiry where she could use the information to greater effect to alert the public? One of the biggest objections had been the environmental impact of the transport issues. If Callie could suddenly reveal the ferret’s pecuniary interest, it would invalidate his economic arguments which were at best specious anyway. Ellie thought it would be better to drop the bombshell at the public meeting where the press would quickly latch on to the issues and expose the deceptions. For once Ellie was glad of the press’s salacious hunger for any sort of a story and this one would be a doozy. She quickly whispered her thoughts to Callie and they turned to listen to the Ferret’s deceptive representations. By late afternoon, the meeting was adjourned in preparation for the public hearings listed for the first week in September. As they drove home, Callie busied herself with as many points as she could think of and by the time they arrived at the hall, she had a substantial list. Some points were palpably irrelevant whilst others were lethal ‘game-changers’.

When Ellie glanced through them after dinner she smiled inwardly at her daughter’s perspicacity and concluded: “Well, well little daughter of mine, remind me not to ever cross swords with you if you ever take up law.”

Smiling to herself, she annotated Callie’s list before turning in.

~~oo000oo~~

September arrived still warm and sunny and the first ‘Nature Watch’ programme had gone out on the BBC. The interview with the two girls had preceded the first footage of the marten kits and the programme had enjoyed spectacular ratings. So much so that Callie and Maggie had become minor celebrities.

The public inquiry into the quarry was commenced to the back-drop of the pine marten series and when news got out that the ‘Pine-marten-girl’ was attending the hearings, the paparazzi arrived in some numbers. Callie and Maggie discovered their path to the town hall blocked and the police found themselves unexpectedly having to clear the way. When they finally made the safety of the designated committee room they shook their heads in wonder. Moments later Ellie joined them and a harassed looking chairwoman finally stumbled into the room. She was followed by a progression of people representing various interested parties. Callie was glad to see Jack Tyler with a small entourage of environmentalists. Each group was shown to their designated sections around a large committee table and Callie sat behind her mother with Maggie beside her. The meeting was called to order and the Enquiry began.

Callie had expected the proceedings to be boring and dull but they proved to be lively as arguments and counter-arguments flowed around the room where different groups gave differing reasons and explanations concerning different issues. At the end of the week the chairwoman gave a brief summary of the salient issues then thanked everybody for their time and input.Outside the committee rooms that Friday lunch-time, Callie chatted with her mum, Jack Tyler and several of Jack’s scientific advisers.

“Well, I think we got the road plan scotched,” Jack sighed, “a bloody great two lane road winding over the dale would be a disaster. That info about the quarry director owning a trucking fleet certainly pricked up the chair’s interest.”

“You can thank my daughter for that,” Ellie declared. “She did the research into that and the viability of a railway.”

“Keen on trains are you young lady”

“She owns one,” Ellie grinned. “Currently, it’s a very popular unit on the North York Moors line.”

“Oh really!” Jack grinned. “What type?”

“She’s a Standard class four, two-six-four Tank.” Callie replied somewhat proudly.

“Oh that’ll be jolly useful then.”

“I don’t know,” Callie confessed. “I don’t see much of her. I don’t have much time what with the estate, the pine martens and school and everything.”

“Oh that’s a pity! Well I’ve got to go. We’ll get a copy of the decisions within a week, the chairwoman told me.”

Callie turned to her mum.

“D’you think the railway will win?”

“The economic arguments would support it darling but who can tell.”

Secretly, Ellie was confident the railway idea would succeed for she knew the chairwoman to be a paid-up member of the ‘East Lancs’ railway supporters' society. But the overriding argument was the economics. The old bridle-path would serve admirably for light vehicular traffic access to the quarry once it was metalled to withstand the light axle loadings of cars. A road to carry heavy trucks would have required concrete foundations and huge investment. Mile for mile, the railway was considerably cheaper and more energy efficient.

Ellie had also noted the sour suspicious look on the chairwoman’s face when James Denton’s trucking interests had been revealed. Throughout the Enquiry, the ferret had not endeared himself to the chair with his bombast and condescension. Despite her confidence, Ellie did not reveal her innermost thoughts and expectations to Callie. If the railway was quashed, Callie would be tremendously disappointed.

By the time a decision was reached about the quarry, its size and anticipated lifetime, the annual extraction quantities and finally the transport solution, Callie was back at school. She received a call on her mobile after divisions and before supper.

She picked it up as she sat at her study table.

“Hello mum.”

“Hi Callie, I called to tell you as soon as we heard the decision; the railway’s been accepted.”

“Oh good; is there any news on the martens? Are they still around the den?”

“Don’t you watch the nature programme?”

“I don’t have much time, besides it clashes with some sports programme or other, so the boys monopolise the T.V. “

“You don’t seem very excited by the railway news. Aren’t you interested anymore?” his mother wondered.

“Well yes I am mummy but down here it’s difficult to get so involved and anyway, I’m too busy studying. Just one thing; has the Denton Ferret lodged any objections?”

“Not so far.”

“Well I don’t trust him. I’ll bet he’s trying to find some way to scupper the railway even as we speak.”

~~oo000oo~~

It was Christmas when the ferret’s desperate efforts to block the railway emerged. Callie, now fourteen, had come down from Eton to celebrate Christmas at home in Yorkshire with her mother and grandmother. A long letter had arrived from the College of Heralds advising the family that Callie’s claim to the dukedom had been challenged on the basis of her gender identity and several other issues arising from the gender question. At first, Callie dismissed the ferret’s claim as frivolous and pestilent but when they went up to London to the Court of Heralds it appeared that the claim had to be taken seriously because ‘the ferret’ was a blood relative and first cousin to the old Duke, Callie’s grandfather. Ellie had invited Maggie and her mother Jane Arnold to accompany them to London to finish some Christmas shopping, thus killing two birds with one stone.

On the train the four chatted about the issues.

“My uncle’s just trying to pull a fast one,” Callie claimed as they journeyed down to the ancient assembly. ”There’s no question of my lineage, besides – I’m still legally male.”

“I think he’s more interested in your rights to inheritance of the Denton estate. If he can somehow get control of the land and the limestone underneath it, he would stand to gain everything,” Ellie opined as she studied the letter again.

Callie still felt that her uncle’s endeavours would come to nought and she boldly said so.

“Even under the new laws, I still keep the title and the estates. Anyway, I have not yet had SRS or applied for my gender recognition certificate and there’s nothing to say I will. I’ve donated my sperm to several sperm banks and provided I can find a willing partner who’s prepared to accept me as I am, then I can produce 'test-tube' heirs by in-vitro fertilisation.”

Ellie was not paying much attention as she studied the letter while Jane Arnold had gone to fetch some coffees, so even as she spoke, Callie felt a soft sensuous jab as Maggie ‘toe-poked' her shin under the railway carriage table. Callie turned with a questioning look at her friend who raised her eyebrows seductively as she canted her head to express her silent offer.

Callie’s eyes widened with surprised wonderment as she grasped the meaning of Maggie’s coquettish smile. She was about to blurt out, ‘What! You?’ but a second more forceful ‘jab’ by Maggie’s shoeless foot conveyed the need for secrecy. Callie’s jaw sagged in bewildered gratitude as she at last fully grasped Maggie’s meaning. Finally she recovered her composure and mouthed her silent question to remove all doubt. Maggie mouthed back a definite ‘yes’ and Callie’s heart flipped with surprised joy.

With that simple offer, Maggie had reduced one of the huge nagging doubts that attended Callie’s life, indeed the same nagging doubts that attended many transsexuals’ lives, namely marriage, children and a settled, lifetime companionship. Maggie’s expression however made it abundantly clear that she did not want to discuss such an intimate issue in front of ‘the olds’.

~~oo000oo~~

Heir to a Title Chapter 22

When they arrived at the Heraldic courts, Callie was mildly surprised that the College of Heralds took the case so seriously. If she was honest, she thought the whole palaver to be something of an anachronism except for the very real fact that her historic dukedom ensured her title to, and ownership of a very substantial estate. This was not only the Denton great house and the surrounding lands of forestry, moors and arable farms but it also included a substantial chunks of the cities of York and Leeds. Property and the income it secured, Callie told herself, was the real issue behind Ferrety Denton's claim.

From her perspective it seemed an open and shut case except of course for the properties and their incomes. Whenever there was the slightest whiff of money in the air, lawyers were almost certain to come sniffing like rats. Ferrety Denton's ducal challenge would have been considered 'frivolous' in a conventional court except for the land issues. The merest clink of coin would set their ears up like a cat to the click of the refrigerator door. Consequently Callie couldn't help exercising her mind over the issues.

'What were the issues?' she kept asking herself. 'Yes' she admitted to herself 'she did live as a 'female' but that was a life choice issue based upon how she felt about herself and where she anticipated her future life might take her. Legally, and indeed, medically she was still presently deemed to be male. It was only in the psychiatric spectrum that her gender identity was currently a question and only then, when using the traditional arguments. In modern medicine gender dysphoria was not seen as a seriously disabling
condition.

'But heraldry was all about traditions.' and Callie knew this well so she felt there was still an infinitesimally small chance of Ferrety Denton's arguments gaining purchase at the hearing. Consequently that tiny uncertainty left her worried and perplexed. She went into the chamber feeling uncertain.

In the first part of the morning the issues were laid out by the court president and then the legal arguments were presented by Ferrety Denton's lawyers.

Eventually a scheduled coffee break arrived at mid-morning and Callie was glad she could slip away to the lavatory. The tensions had left their mark on her bladder.

When she returned to the dining hall she found her nan, mum and the legal team engrossed in conversation around a table with no more space available. She decided to sit alone and paused momentarily before spying an unoccupied table. As she made towards it, she accidentally bumped into the Earl Marshall who was also approaching the same isolated table with just two chairs. It was nestled almost invisibly in a deep alcove by the corner window.

Having been deeply pre-occupied with the transgender questions, Callie was not looking where she was going as she hurried to gain the isolated seat. She stepped too quickly around a large pillar and nearly dropped her coffee as she almost collided with the Earl Marshall who had been invisible to her behind the pillar. She just managed to swerve away without spilling it.

She had apologised to him and he smiled at her as any man might at a pretty young girl. Like any woman, Callie adopted a neutral female smile as a sort of defence. It was not a welcoming smile for she was afraid of inviting accusations of trying to influence the court president. After smiling courteously and offering her apology, Callie sidled away and successfully gained the secluded table she had been aiming for. There she took her seat in anticipation of enjoying a fairly private coffee without any interruptions. It was not to be however, for the Earl Marshall chose to join her at her table. Uncertain of his intentions Callie tried to ignore the approach without causing offence but to her surprise it was the Earl Marshall who spoke first.

“Well young man, how are you feeling about this case? Not nervous I hope.”

Callie was nervous but not about her case. She was surprised to find the president of the court in the communal dining area and she wondered if it was legally proper for the court president to approach her. However she answered honestly.

“Yes sir, I am a bit; am I allowed to talk to you like this?”

“I am not the court young man, I'm just the president, those people sat at the long table over there are the college of heralds and they are equivalent of jurors in a civil court. This is not like a crown court, I am not the equivalent of a high-court judge and I'm allowed to talk to the claimant and defendants. Do you understand that?”

“Not completely sir. I genuinely thought it functioned like a normal court of law.”

“Oh no, it's different in several ways. This is the court of heralds not a court of law.

Oh and by the way, I'm in two minds about your having come dressed as a female, however it will add a certain frisson to proceedings and force the court to confront the very real issues surrounding transgender-ism in general - and yours in particular.”

Callie nodded and explained her reasoning.

“I dressed this way to do exactly that. There's no point in trying to hide my transgender-ism if, at some later date, the court believes I was trying somehow to deceive it. All the documents I have presented to the court have declared me to be male but I have made no secret of my transgender condition.”

“Indeed young man.; and consequently I have to address you as a man because that's what's in the court documents. Your courage is very commendable.”

Callie nodded and hesitated as she looked uncertainly about her; then she saw the ferret stand up and walk to the lavatory. She seized her opportunity while the ferret was relieving himself.

“Earl Marshall, can I ask a general question?”

“Go ahead your grace.”

His form of address took her back a bit.

“I don't think I'm eligible for that title yet sir, I'm still a minor.”

“I used it informally Callum. Every juror at this court holds noble rank. Currently, you are still technically the owner of the Duchy of Denton.”

Callie digested this and deemed it to be very strange in such modern times so she pressed the question that had been bothering her from the beginning.

“Tell me Earl Marshal, why is the heraldic court taking this case so seriously.”

The Earl Marshall nodded sagely.

“Quite simply Callum, it's something of a test case and there are several issues to resolve.

Firstly, this hearing will establish new 'case law' within the compass of heraldic law and this new act of succession concerning the new rule of 'first born' instead of 'first male-born'. Remember, in England and Wales, the rule of male primogeniture has existed since the Norman invasion of 1066.

Secondly, and furthermore, I have to add that your transgender issue has become an important factor because Mr Denton and modern medicine make it so. Consequently, because it has, the College of Heralds were keen to use your case to resolve several latter-day issues surrounding the advent of transgender-ism.”

“Oh, I see. Just like in civil or criminal law.” Callum concluded.

“Well on this occasion, it mostly resembles civil law where disputes can get complicated.” The Earl Marshall elaborated. “Criminal law does not usually apply here because criminal cases tend to be pretty much cut-and-dried by comparison to civil law.”

“Ah. I see.” Callie nodded.

“Are you interested in Law?” The Earl Marshall pressed.

“Only insofar as most young people are– you know – keen to see justice done and stuff.”

“Well that's commendable lad.” The Earl Marshall continued. “Now for the purposes of this hearing it is necessary that we continue to deem you a male. If perchance you had transitioned and undergone full 'GRS', prior to this hearing, the case might have been more complex. Your great uncle might have won. Unfortunately his impatience and 'dare-I-say-it', his greed, have virtually destroyed his case. I will confess here and now that you've probably won the legal argument but we have to go through the motions. Just one question I will have to ask when we are back in there, -Are you going to transition at a later date-?”

Callie frowned uncertainly.

“To tell the truth, I'm not entirely certain. At the moment, I'm happy just expressing myself and presenting myself as a female but heaven knows how I'll feel in a few years time. It could all change and I might choose to have surgery.”

“Well, the law can't be applied retroactively so neither you nor James Denton nor indeed this court, can act upon some future uncertainty.

However, your great uncle might be entirely within his rights to make another claim later on if you do transition and don't father a child – male or female-, because his son, your second cousin, was the heir presumptive prior to the new succession laws. Now you see why we have to think hard and act slowly in this. Come on, coffee-break is over, lets return to the chamber.”

Callie followed the Earl Marshall back into the chamber and she received several curious looks from the interested parties. Not least from the Ferret who's curiosity became suspicion as his look turned to a glare. The Earl Marshall sensed this and immediately declared the innocence of his meeting.

“Gentlemen I must declare that I met Callum Denton during the coffee -break and he asked me a question because he was ignorant of the law. I gave him my answer and I can assure the court we only discussed the law and how it might have affected the claim. No deals were struck and no decisions were made. I advised him about my understanding of current law but it is up to this heraldic court to make the final decisions. So shall we proceed with the hearings.”

Immediately James Denton expressed his dissatisfaction with the Earl Marshall's statement and demanded to know exactly what was discussed. The Earl Marshall patiently recalled as much of the conversation as he could and allowed the Ferret and his counsel to cross examine both himself, as the president of the court, and Callie. The heraldic court is not and never was the same as a civil or criminal court.

Once again James Denton allowed his abrasive nature to rub people up the wrong way and he eventually incurred the distaste of the jurors of the court. However, this did not become apparent until the final arguments were being debated. In the final judgement, several 'ground-breaking' protocols were established.

All the members of the heraldic court decided unanimously that Callum was entitled to keep his title but they allowed The Ferret leave to appeal in the event of Callum transitioning and/or failing to produce an heir. The question of Callum using in-vitro fertilisation to produce a child was declared legitimate because the court had accepted modern medical science as it affected 'legitimacy'. Legitimacy was to be accepted on the basis of DNA confirmation and this further cleared up any issues that might be raised later on.

The matter of same-sex marriage was declared immaterial to the case because it was now universally accepted and legal within the realm of the court's jurisdictions in England and Wales. One peculiar anomaly surfaced however inasmuch as the court of heralds required that Callum be legally married to the mother of his child irrespective of the mode of fertilisation or the gender statuses of the partners. Legitimacy was still counted dear by the ancient Heraldic Court.

The upshot of the hearing was that for all practical purposes, Callie had defended her title successfully. More importantly, the Denton land and estates were secured in her possession as well. When Callie and her family left the court they failed to see the bitterness in James Denton's eyes as he slipped away down a side alley.

Sociopaths are notorious for having little or no forgiveness, especially if they feel they have been wronged, defrauded or slighted. Often they will stop at little or nothing to get revenge or in some other way put things right as they see it.

James Denton was a sociopath.

~~oo000oo~~

Heir to a title Chapter 23

When the heraldic case was finally resolved Callie returned home and prepared to return to school for the spring term. On the last day of the holidays she and Maggie travelled down by train to Kings Cross from York. They arrived in the early afternoon then crossed town together on the tube and finally separated at Paddington station. Callie was taking a local train to Eton whilst Maggie boarded another express to Cheltenham. Being as she had only a short journey to Eton, Callie waited for Maggie's train and they shared a sad moment embracing on the platform before the last call to board crackled invasively down the platform yet somehow managing to carry above the busy hubbub of station life. After they shared last one parting kiss, Callie watched wistfully as the train's engines started to whine powerfully and it glided smoothly away. Strangely Callie's last thought was how the the station announcer's voice had carried so effectively above the general massed babble of voices, collective rumbles of assorted engines and screeching squeals of wheels on tracks. Finally she gave a last lingering wave to the disappearing image of Maggie leaning from the carriage window and then she turned to continue her own journey.

By late afternoon, Callie was back in her study and almost as soon as she had put down her luggage, she showered then changed into a smart bandage dress and provocative, four-inch, platform heels. Finally, she touched up her make-up then resumed unpacking. She was just extracting her favourite lingerie set when Michael came tapping on the door.

“Come in,” Callie called as she folded the lingerie into the deepest, lower drawer she had set aside specifically for her female personality.

Michael entered and stopped to stare at his friend.

“Wow! Look at you! - and look at that lingerie!”

He gaped firstly at Callie's slender figure then at her pretty possessions before producing a copy of the London Gazette. This action endeared Callie to her gay friend. He had never once acted untowardly to her. She remained standing by her clothes drawers with the panties in her hand as Michael produced the pertinent article from the London Gazette.

“What have you been up to Callie?” He asked, pointing to an article describing Callie's heraldic battle and the outcome.

“What? Oh that, yes; I have a great uncle who's a bit of a tosser. He tried to challenge my title on the basis of my transgenderism but he failed.”

“So what's this Heraldic court business? Where they all wearing tabbards with coats of arms and stuff?”

Callie grinned for she knew Michael was Joking.

“No they were wearing coronets and ermine robes.”

Michael's jaw sagged, “really?”

“No you bloody fool. It's not like Alice in Wonderland you twit!”

“Bastard!” Michael laughed as he realised he'd been had.

Callie nodded and explained as she was picking out another very provocative pair of panties from her case.

“Nah, they were wearing suits like any city office worker. Even the dames wore twin-sets. I wore these though.”

She held up a bright red, deliciously frothy creation and smiled. Michael grinned lasciviously

“God! I hope you didn't flash those!”

“Well my dress was quite short but I behaved with decorum.”

Callie stood up, took the dress from her wardrobe and held it against her slender form.

“This was the dress I actually wore, the men seemed to like it - not sure about the ladies though but they were in the minority.”

Michael gaped and wagged his head disbelievingly. “You slag!” He roared with laughter. “You must hate returning to school and having to wear male morning dress after holidaying in that.”

“Don't be daft, I don't holiday all the time in this outfit, most of the time I get by in jeans and tee-shirts. Now just let me put a bit of 'slap' on and then we can go down for tea, I'll finish packing later.”
Michael nodded and Callie dipped into her make-up box. With youth on her side, a bit of lippy plus a dash of eye-shadow and mascara soon completed a perfect face. Michael's grin widened as she turned for his opinion.

“Well; what d' you think? Shall we go down?”

“Jeeze Callie, with you looking like that, you'll drive the Pop crazy!. Come on, let's see if you can get away with it.”

“Well school doesn't start officially until tomorrow. This'll be my last chance till the weekend. I checked about wearing dresses last term with the master and the dame. “

“And?” Michael wondered.

“They just smiled and told me it was okay outside of official school hours but not to be too provocative.” Callie replied.

“We-ell, I suppose it's not too provocative. Well, not by your standards anyway. The master might have other ideas. You've got stunning legs though. We're going to have to be careful. How the hell d' you walk in those shoes?”

Callie strutted out into the corridor and swayed her hips provocatively before pausing at the top of the stairs.

“They're strictly 'car-to-bar', foot jewellery Mickey so you might have to give me your arm on the stairs. Come on.”

They descended into the common room and the buzz of conversation died instantly. Heads turned and stared until finally an older boy remarked.

“Bloody hell; Michael Foster! Well you're a dark horse and no mistake. So who's this stunning lady? I thought you were gay!”

“I am gay,” Michael replied boldly, “so what d' you think of my friend?”

Another boy grinned at Callie hopefully,“If Michael doesn't need you darling, please give me your telephone number.”

Callie recognised the boy as one of her classmates and she decided to have a bit of fun.

“You couldn't afford me darling!” She riposted with a smile before adding. “Besides, I think you've already got my number.”

The boy frowned uncertainly so Callie took her mobile from her clutch bag and dialled while the others watched curiously.

The boy felt his mobile vibrate in his pocket and he took it out. As he recognised the number he announced to the gathering.

“Oh it's only Callum. I thought he'd have been back by now.” He answered the call. “Hey, Callum, your crony's brought this stunning girl to school, you aught to see her!

Callie spoke softly into her mobile.

“I am back silly. Who do you think the hot babe is?”

The boy looked up then stared momentarily at his phone again, then gaped with disbelief before speaking into his phone with confused incomprehension.

“What! You! The babe in the 'fanny-pelmet' dress and 'fuck-me' heels”

“The very same darling. But you ain't gonna' fuck me okay!”

He stared again at Callie as his shocked expression changed to a huge grin and the other boys quickly caught on. Instantly the mood in the common room changed to one of wonderment as they found their voices again. Finally the senior Pop spoke.

“Have you transitioned already then Callum?”

“No, I just felt like going en-femme before the the school uniform rules kicked in at midnight. What d' you think? Oh, and it's Callie when I'm en-femme.”

The Pop wagged his head.

“I'm not sure what to think. But we'd better warn the rest of the Pop. Jeeze Callie you're jail-bait with a capital Jay.”

“My sister would be jealous as hell if she met you.” Another Pop declared.

With that dinner was announced and the boys filed into the school house dining hall.

During the meal a plot was hatched amongst the kings scholars to wind up the oppidans and Callie posed for a photograph that was quickly texted around the school. They tried to keep the 'girl's' identity a secret but Callie's gender issues were too well known. The following morning that single picture was being shared avidly on mobiles throughout the whole school but particularly amongst the Pop. All through the day, even while she was wearing the school uniform, Callie was approached by the senior boys and to her delight, nearly all of them congratulated her. That evening the house-master got wind of the story and approached Callie during library time.

“Is this truly your picture Denton? I realised now that I saw you in the dining hall last night but I didn't recognise you.”

“Yes-sir.”

“Quite remarkable young man – or should I call you lady?” The master smiled.

“Well it's 'boy' when I'm in school uniform sir, but if I go out during a weekend break, I prefer to be called miss.”

“Well I must admire your courage, have you had any trouble in the school – from the boys that is?”

“Almost none sir and the boy that didn't congratulate me was at least not aggressive, he was more curious than anything.”

“Well I'm pleased to hear that. It seems to show that the school's policy is working. All I have to say is be careful when you're out of school during Sundays.”

“I always go out in company sir – usually with Michael or sometimes with the senior girls.”

“Yes, their house-mistress tells me she's seen you out with them, and they're okay with you are they?”

Callie blushed as she was forced to confess.

“Yes-sir, it was they that asked me to accompany them. We even swap make-up tips. They're good company.”

The house- master wagged his head and chuckled.

“Better company than the boys I'll be bound – for you that is.”

Callie was secretly impressed and elated for it seemed the house-master had evidently done his homework. He had obviously learned the difference between sexuality, gender and all the conditions in-between. More importantly he must have been observing both Callum the boy and Callie the girl to have realised that Callie preferred girls both as friends and probable partners. She smiled her brightest smile.

“Uuhm. Yes-sir, usually. And thank you for understanding.”

The master nodded slowly, glad that he had learned enough about transgenderism to make the child feel comfortable and safe. He finished the conversation by admitting. -

“Well it's been a learning curve for we masters as well Callum and I'm glad it seems to be working out. You know the house staff are always on hand if you need advice or help. Take care.”

The house master left and almost Immediately, Michael joined Callie.

“Was he okay about the picture?”

“Yes,” Callie replied, “he was just checking to see that I wasn't getting any flack. He's been really good about everything.”

“God you're so lucky, my parents would go ballistic if they found out about me being gay.”

Callie nodded sympathetically. It was hard if your family didn't approve. Michael continued.

“My mum's coming up next weekend to visit friends in Ascot. No doubt she'll be visiting me in my study. If it's Sunday please be discreet.”

Callie nodded and squeezed Michael's hand to reassure him.

“I'll make it my business to be out with the girls in town or visiting them at their dormitory house.”

She was slightly surprised to see a tiny tear of -what she presumed to be relief or gratitude – escape form Michael's eye.

Sunday duly arrived and Michael's mother surprised everybody by turning up unexpectedly early. So early that the boys had only just emerged from breakfast and were generally milling around in the common area as they were organising their various weekend plans. Callie was casually chatting to Michael and a couple of the Pop before she intended crossing the Yard and walking up the lane to the girl's house before Michael's mother showed up. Michael's mother had caught them all by surprise.

Callie had arranged with the girls to take the train into London and everybody had organised day passes with their respective house-masters. They had arranged to visit the V&A museum and the National gallery then meet the pop* for tea before returning to Eton by seven. That morning the boys were chatting outside the dining hall and the pop had just complimented Callie on her appearance. This had pleased her immensely and by way of thanks she had just pecked them on the cheeks. Michael was grinning expectantly for his kiss and Callie smiled before duly delivering a kiss with a friendly embrace. She was still hugging Michael when she saw his grin fall from his face as he went white with fear.

“What's wrong?” She asked as Michael tensed nervously.

“It's my mother! I wasn't expecting her this early. Oh my God! She's here already! Look, she's by the door talking to the dame.”

“Callie stepped back and turned to look even as Michael's mother spotted them and approached with a smile of delight.”

In their surprise Callie had not noticed that she had left a red lip-stick mark on Michael's cheek so when his mother approached she assumed that her son Michael had found a girlfriend. She smiled and asked eagerly.

“Why Michael Foster! My darling; have you been keeping a secret from me. Who's this delightful young lady?”

Michael stuttered nervously.

“She, - she's just a friend mummy.”

“A very close friend I see; I presume that's her lipstick on your cheek.”

“Wha-!” Michael's eyes showed fear but Callie instantly recovered her composure.

She took a 'wet-wipe' from her bag and prepared to clean the bright red mark. She smiled a shy smile as she spoke to Michael with the wet-wipe poised in her hand

“Sorry darling, let me clean it.”

Quickly the lip-stick mark disappeared and Michael felt his cheek self consciously as his mother continued with her presumption.

“Well, well you're a dark horse darling. You've been keeping her a secret have you.”

“It's not like that mummy.” Michael tried to protest but there was no deflecting his mother from her assumption.

“Well that kiss tells me otherwise,” she turned to Callie, “so who are you young lady, and how long have you known my son?”

“I'm Callie Denton ma-am. And I've known Michael for over a week.”

This was not technically a lie, for Callie had known Michael nearly one and a half school years.”

“So I assume he's invited you to join us for the day.” His mother suggested hopefully.

“Oh sorry ma-am, not exactly, I was just returning some notes, he was very kind enough to lend them to me and I had kissed him to say thank you. We are good friends though and we share some classes. I'm going up to town later to visit the museums with some of the other girls. It's all been pre-arranged. I can't renege on the arrangements now. I hope Michael and you enjoy your day, I've got to go now, 'byee.”

As Callie sidled provocatively away she heard Michael's mother remark.

“She's a lovely girl; now that's the sort of thing your father and I have been hoping for. I see Eton has at last brought you out.”

Callie smiled to herself but she didn't hear Michael's reply for she was already crossing the College yard. Half an hour later, she was boarding the London train with her female friends and excitedly anticipating the museum visits. Like all girls out for the day however, she invariably succumbed to the shopping virus and returned happily to school by seven pm.

Shopping bags full of new clothes are rarely a burden to any girl and Callie eagerly returned to the college ready for her dinner. The click of her new high-heeled boots however, gave her away as she skipped happily up the stairs. She had just entered her study and was checking her face in the mirror when Michael's mother appeared in the doorway.

“Hello Callie, I'm surprised to see they allow girls in the boy's studies. Shouldn't you be up in your own study at the female house?”

Callie froze momentarily but then decided she was not going to try any subterfuge. Whatever issues Michael might have had with his parents were not going to interfere with her open school life. It was known everywhere throughout the school that she was a transgendered pupil and the school had behaved with exemplary correctness when she had won her scholarship. She turned and rested her bum against the washbasin as she replied quite openly.

“But this is my study Mrs Foster.”

“What! But Eton's a boy's school! How is it you're allowed here.”

Callie sighed then replied.

“Technically Ma-am, I am legally a boy, but I'm actually a transgendered girl.”

For several seconds the woman stared hard at Callie. Callie saw the distaste in the woman's eyes then she spoke.

“A boy! But, but you kissed my son – this morning.”

“Yes Ma-am, just as I kissed the two older boys – the Pop. I was thanking them for the notes I'd borrowed.”

“What,are you saying you've been copying notes and cheating?”

“No! Certainly not. Look here are the notes, or the next batch. We often annotate each other's work and comment on each other's thoughts. Here look.”

She handed Michael's mother the notes and having once been an English and history teacher, Mrs Foster's brief glance soon told her that they were of a high standard. She looked at another sheaf of notes and nodded towards them. Callie reached for the other notes and turned to pass them to the older woman while she was still standing in the doorway but Michael's mother stepped into Callie's study to examine the new notes. At that point Michael followed her in.

“Mummy you shouldn't be in here, this is Callie's private study space.”

“Never mind that young man, I'm just checking something.”

She studied a couple of loose pages then nodded with satisfaction.

“Hmm, well I can't fault the standard of work, it's very high for a fifteen-year-old. I must accept that you are right about your work standard young ma- what do I call you, - man or lady?”

Callie had dropped the 'Ma-am' and was speaking equal-to-equal now.

“You may call me lady, whilst I'm presenting as one. That's what the school has decided.”

“What!? And they allow people like you in here? - Dressed like that?”

The expression 'people-like-you' told Callie everything else about Michael's mother but she kept her cool and answered simply, “yes”.

Michael's mother dug herself into a deeper hole.

“Well I don't think it's right. I'll speak to the school immediately. It's wrong letting boys prance around in girls clothes.”

Callie's voice hardened as her anger threatened to burst through.

“Firstly Mrs Foster, I do not prance and secondly I must ask you to leave my study. Whatever arrangements the school has made to address my circumstances are no concerns of yours.”

Callie stepped forward and stood with her hand on the door-handle to offer the older woman the door. Michael's mother initially stood her ground until she saw the angry tear glisten in Callie's eye.

“I'm waiting Mrs Foster. Please don't force me to call the house-master or the dame.”

The woman realised she had somehow overstepped the mark and gathering as much dignity as she could, she stepped haughtily out of the room. Michael turned to Callie and gave her a resigned sigh as he followed his mother to his own study. He was so stressed out that he forgot to close his study door and seconds later Callie could not avoid overhearing the row as it echoed along the dormitory corridor. Michael's mother was about to fetch the house-master but the Pop emerged from his study to see what the commotion was about. He knocked on Michael's open door.

“Go away!” A woman's voice responded to the knock.

The pop hesitated then spoke through the open doorway.

“Mrs Foster, I must respectfully ask you to leave the dormitories. If you have any complaints, please address them to the house-master or the dame.”

Mrs Foster burst forth to shout in the pops face

“Don't worry boy! I am going to do exactly that!” She glared at Callie who was still standing in her own study doorway. “And that's the tart I'll be complaining about.”

The pop shrugged apologetically to Callie and escorted Mrs Foster down to the House-masters apartments.
When the pair entered the house-master immediately invited the house dame to attend the meeting as a chaperone. When she arrived the house-master then invited Mrs Foster to sit.

“Now Mrs Foster, I can see that you are obviously upset, please could you explain?”

The mother immediately launched into a tirade of abusive objections about allowing perverts to attend the school. Throughout the interlude, the house-master and the dame listened patiently until Michael's mother had exhausted her arsenal of objections. Then he explained patiently that the boy Callum was a transgendered individual and the school would be in breach of law if they expelled the child on the basis of his or her transgenderism.

“But surely, that doesn't give him - her - whatever, a licence to dress like some tart!”

“Well frankly Mrs Foster, when I saw her returning from the London train, she certainly didn't look like a tart. She was dressed just like any other modern girl and I know for a fact that they had been to the National Gallery and The V&A because one of the school staff saw her and the other girls at both venues and indeed spoke to them.”

“But I saw her lingerie drawer, it was partly open. I mean frilly pants and stuff, surely not school uniform!”

“Indeed not Mrs Foster,” the Dame interjected, “but perfectly typical underwear for modern girls to wear when not in school. I believe she was wearing denim jeggings when she returned to school. That would be perfectly normal and respectable apparel for a girl to wear on a Sunday. Hardly dressed like a tart.”

“But it looked so common, I mean -”

I can assure you Mrs Foster, young Callum Denton could hardly be called common; either in manners or any other criterion. Indeed she will inherit her title of Duke of Denton on her eighteenth birthday!”

Michael's mother stopped dead in her tracks.

“Duke!?”

The dame nodded affirmation for she had easily read Mrs Foster for a bigoted snob. The master added reinforcement when he picked up on the same signal..

“Yes, Mrs Foster, Callum Denton is currently the Earl of Fotheringay and when he – or, if you prefer,- she reaches her or his majority, she or he will become the Duke of Denton. Callum Denton is certainly not some sort of common slag!”

The master had deliberately employed both genders of pronouns just to reinforce his statement.

“But – but, what about the other boys? Surely she's a – a- some sort of danger? I mean morally or even sexu ---.”

The house-master grimaced at the unfinished, distasteful innuendo.

“I can assure you Mrs Foster, Callum Denton is no risk to the other boys; indeed if there was any risk, the opposite would apply. Callum would be more likely to be at risk from any older boys. As a girl that is normally deemed the case. However, the situation is well controlled and monitored. So far none of the other boys, or their parents have complained.”

“But do any of the other parents know?”

The dame intervened.

“Do you read the papers Mrs Foster?”

“Of course I read the papers!”

“Well then you would have read last year how a young Eton Scholar saved a toddler from certain death during the winter floods. He plunged in and rescued the baby right at the very jaws of Windsor Lock control weir.”

“Yes, I remember it well, it was national news.”

“And it became national news because the boy was seen to be wearing a girl's bra under his – or more correctly - her shirt. The red-top scandal sheets had a field day.”

“Yes so what? - Oh! - I see, so that boy was him.”

“Yes Mrs Foster, that boy was Callum Denton; as brave a child as any parent could wish for. Every boy and girl in Eton College has huge affection and respect for him because his bravery is two fold.
Firstly :- his act of sheer bravery for risking his own life from certain death to rescue the toddler and,
Secondly :- the continuous daily courage he displays running the daily gauntlet of abuse surrounding his gender issues. Though I must point out that here in the college and in the town of Windsor, he is mostly feted by those who remember the incident.”

The master finally added

“Callum Denton is not the sort of Pupil that Eton would betray or fail. He is the sort of pupil we would welcome with open arms. He is courageous, honest and principled not to mention bright academically.
Now if you believe your son Michael is somehow at risk from Callum then there is little we can do if you decide to remove him, though I must declare here and now; your son is an excellent scholar and would benefit enormously from an education here. I for one would be very sorry to see Michael removed.”

Mrs Foster fell silent as she digested the rescue incident. She may have been a snob but she was quick-witted enough to know that she would do herself untold harm if she attacked the transgendered child hero. Carefully she 'back-tracked' while both the house master and the dame gave her ample room to manoeuvre. They were past masters at avoiding conflict and resolving disputes. The house-master made her an offer.

“If you wish Mrs Foster, I will ask any of the students – boys or girls - to talk to you about young Callum. I can confidently say that most of them will describe him with glowing references.”

“No. I don't think that will be necessary. I'll speak to my own son about it.”

The house-master felt he was on firmer ground.

“Very well, but I would like the dame to be present, as a witness you understand. We have to protect ourselves as well.”

“Will that really be necessary.”

“If I have to be blunt Mrs Foster then yes, I think it is.”

Reading between the lines, Michael's mother got the message and reluctantly she agreed. Michael was invited into the dame's apartment and his mother interrogated him. The dame's presence did exactly what the house-master had hoped. It emboldened Michael to reveal his homosexuality because his father was not present to abuse him while the dame's attendance inhibited his mother enough for the boy to get through an ordeal he had been dreading for several years.
“So there it is Mummy. I'm gay.”

Mrs Foster stood nonplussed but at least she showed no anger and Michael was eternally grateful for that. However, her silence became oppressive and he pressed nervously.

“Aren't you angry or disgusted?”
~~oo000oo~~

Heir to a Title Chapter 24

Michael stood there whilst the silence became almost unbearable. He felt his upper lip threatening to quiver but just managed prevent his fear turning to terror while even yet holding his mother's stunned gaze. Eventually, whether through fear or anger, he knew not; he found his voice.

“Well mother? Have you nothing to say, no brutal put-down, no vicious stab with that rapier tongue of yours, no wail of remorse? Emotional blackmail?”

The dame sensed that Michael's mother was about to break long before Michael did and she intervened tactfully.

“Michael, I think you'd best return to the house-master's room, I think Callie might be there as well. I wish to speak to your mother.”

Michael found himself almost rooted to the spot with uncertainty and anger for he had not read what the dame had read in his mother's eyes. The dame repeated her suggestion slightly more forcefully.

“Go on Michael. What I have to say to your mother will be important.”

Michael's eyes glittered with frustration and suspicion but he had no more words left. Angrily he span on his heel and paused briefly at the door.

“You're damned right it will be important!” he almost snarled.

“Michael!!” His mother almost shrieked. “Don't you dare speak to a lady like that!”

Her words were lost as Michael swung the door and slammed it behind him as the dame gently touched Mrs Fosters wrist.

“Leave it Mrs Foster. Let him go. He's just done the most monumental act of bravery in his life. Give him the dignity of ascending into adulthood by his own endeavours.”

Finally the tears broke and the dame helped Michael's mother to a seat before explaining.

“We only have them on loan Mrs Foster. Eventually all our children must make their breaks with their parents and grow to adulthood alone. The less lies and deceptions they have to make to those parents, the easier the road – for everybody.

“What we heard Michael just tell us removes one huge lie that Michael will no longer have to live. Try and see his ...” here the dame hesitated as she decided on the word “... confession - as a burden lifted from his shoulders and therefore yours as well. Oh, and I should add that my choice of the word confession is perhaps a poor one. It implies some sort of sin or wrongdoing on Michael's behalf and I for one do not see it as such.”

Mrs Foster sat quietly as tears continued to force their way so the dame decided to make a cup of tea mainly to give the mother time to find, compose and possibly express, her feelings.

She turned to deliver the cup when she met Michael's mother unexpectedly in the doorway. Being forced to pause, she proffered the cup and motioned with her head towards the high kitchen chairs by the pier. Once seated, they each faced other as Mrs Foster took a kitchen tissue to remove her tears. The dame smiled.

“You'll need to repair your make-up.”

“That's no matter,” the mother sighed, “it's Michael; I just wish he'd told me before.”

The dame was in a quandary for she could not be certain of the exact family circumstances. Michael had several times previously almost broached his issues with the dame but on each occasion he had failed to openly admit it despite the dame having made it obvious that she suspected the truth and was sympathetic. The blockage was seemingly with Michael's father; so large a dam had grown between father and son that had it had taken a veritable explosion of emotion to trigger Michael's dam-burst.

At a loss with going forward without hurting Mrs Fosters feelings further, the dame changed tack. There would be nothing gained by being censorious or judgemental. Mrs Foster needed support and sympathy if the tiny spark of maternal compassion was to be ignited into a bonfire of support and protection for the child in the face of the father's oppression.

“Has Michael ever tried to mention it to you before?”

“No - well I don't think so.” She hesitated before finishing. “Well truthfully I don't know. His father was so anti-gay you understand. In truth, he's still very anti-gay. Michael's always been afraid of him.”

The dame nodded and continued.

“Does Michael or rather, did Michael ever argue with his father about gays or anything to do with LGBT?”

“Not that I noticed. His father's got such strong feelings about it that I suspect Michael was too afraid to even go there. Though, I suspect things might be coming to a head – as far as Michael handles it I mean. Previously he just avoided any dispute. I'm afraid that might change and that worries me.”

“Well at least his father cannot withhold funding for Michael if he wishes to continue here. He's a Kings Scholar and as such has both tuition and boarding rights here at the college.”

There was a pause as Mrs Foster turned things over in her mind. Finally she spoke.

“Can I speak to Michael now?”

“Of course, you're his mother, we are certainly not social services.”

The dame phoned the house-master.

“Hello Bob, is Michael still with you?”

“Yes, we've had a chat and he's on the computer with Callie at present.”

“His mother wants to talk to him. Can you put him on?”

Michael's voice came through the phone and spoke to the dame.

“Hello Ma'am.”

Mrs Foster heard her son's voice on the phone and breathed a sigh of relief when he replied positively to the dame's request for him to return to her apartments and speak to his mother.

“Is she still angry?” Michael asked.

“No Michael, your mum's more upset than angry. I think it's okay to talk. Can you come back?”

“Okay. Give me a minute please.”

The dame turned to Mrs Foster, smiled and nodded.

“He's agreed.”

“Yes. I heard. Thank God!”

The two women sat sipping tea and chatting then Mrs Foster proposed a suggestion to the dame.

“Do you think it would work if just Michael and I knew about his being – you know – gay?”

She hesitated for the effort to say 'gay' had emotionally drained her; then she explained further.

“You understand me, just Michael and me whilst we don't tell his father just yet?”

“It could work Mrs Foster but I think a lot depends upon Michael and your determination not to mention anything to his father.”

“It wouldn't be anything dishonest, we could just not mention anything. If nothing's said then no lies are told.”

“That could work, let's see what your son has to say.”

At that a knock announce Michael's return. He entered and looked uncertainly at his mother. The dame bridged the impasse.

“I believe your mother might have a solution to your problem Michael.”

He turned to his mother and asked monosyllablically: “What?”

His mother recoiled slightly at the truculent venom in Michael's voice but she hid her feelings and persevered. She explained her intended subterfuge and Michael finally replied.

He spoke slowly: “Aa-aalright mummy. I'll have to trust you but I want to know your feelings about me.”

She gave a wan smile as yet another tear betrayed her feelings.

“I just don't want to lose you.”

Michael frowned.

“That's hardly likely to happen is it, especially as you decide if I stay at Eton or not. What I want to know is how you feel about my being gay. Dad's made it abundantly obvious he hates gays but do you hate me? Does it disgust you? Does it demean me in your eyes? What don't you like?”

“It's not about being gay for me darling, I – I was thinking about grand children.”

Michael gave a short ironic laugh.

“Ha! It's that hoary old chestnut is it. Why are you so worried about children?”

“I just had expectations of being a grandmother one day.”

“Well I wouldn't worry about it. There's plenty of girls out there who would accept a sperm donation from me on the grounds of inherited intelligence. I'm a King's Scholar.”

“It's not like a stud farm Michael. I'd like to be able to see my grandchildren, have input into their upbringing and nurture.”

“That's not impossible either. There are children out there with two lesbian mothers and a gay father who de-facto have six grandparents. Being gay doesn't stop me fathering children or sharing in their care.”

“But you can't guarantee that.”

“That's not a fair argument; I cross the road every day between School House and the college yard. I can't guarantee that I'll not be knocked down by a bus tomorrow so why should I make any promises I cannot guarantee to keep. I could have been straight and never have given you grandchildren.”

“But would you try to give me grandchildren?”

“Only if all the circumstances were right and the mother or mothers were prepared to let me have input into the children's well being. That's what parenting – and grand-parenting – is about, not just the biology. As you said, it's not a stud farm.”

His mother sighed with some small relief. Her son had shown that he had considered the issue and that pleased her. Michael sensed this intuitively and took it as an opportunity to show that his friendship with Callum could become acceptable.

“Do you realise mummy, that my best friend has sorted the sperm donation problem already. She's even got a girl who's prepared to be the mother.”

“Would that be that transexual boy?”

Michael corrected her.

“Transgendered girl mother; Callie's a transgendered girl. And the girl who is prepared to be the mother is her girlfriend. If Callie can get it sorted, so can I. The college has shown tremendous good will towards Callie and supported her all the way.”

“So you want to stay here?” she asked naively.

“Of course I do. It's the best place I've ever been to. Look at how they treat Callie or Callum as he's known for official purposes. He's allowed to express his femininity and now I'm out, I'll be accepted for what I am. There are several gays in the college not withstanding Callum's transgenderism.”

“What about your sister Samantha? What if she refuses to accept it?”

“I'll speak to Sam about it. We share lots of secrets. I think she suspects anyway.”

“She's only twelve Michael, what would she know?”

“I don't know mummy but I think it's down to me to tell her, not you. She's just as afraid of Dad's temper as I am. If you told her, she'd always be wondering if dad knows or when will he find out. I don't want her drawn into any rows. Besides, she's hoping to go to Roedean isn't she? She'll be out of your hair by August if she gets accepted.”

“It might be Roedean or maybe Cheltenham. She's trying for a scholarship to either.”

“She'll get one mum. She's just as clever as me, though God knows where we get it from. Anyway let's get back to my issue. Do you promise here and now, not to tell dad?”

“I've already said yes.”

“Then there's nothing more to discuss. I'll see you tomorrow morning before you return home. I've got a free hour after Maths and up until lunch, eleven till noon. Can you make it?”

“Yes, and thank you Michael.”

“It's me that should be thanking you; thanks for not telling Dad.”

To the dame's relief, both mother and son were now talking again like a mother and son. She was further relieved when parent and child hugged then parted. As both parties separated and left, she phoned her colleague the house-master.

“Job done Bob. His mother seems reconciled to his being gay and they've parted on seemingly amicable terms. Oh! He's staying on at the college.”

“Well done Janet. It would have been a shame to lose such a good student. D' you want to come over and celebrate with a little drink?”

She smiled to herself before replying.

“I think I could manage that before I do the rounds.”

Michael continued to attend Eton.

~~oo000oo~~

At the end of that Spring term, Callie and Michael shared the train journey home as far as York where Callie alighted while Michael continued to his home in Durham.

Callie took the local train to her home in the Dales and was delighted to see Maggie waiting with both their mums on the platform. She was also pleased to see a row of newly commissioned railway wagons sitting patiently in the new sidings as evidence of progress with the quarry.

As they walked along the platform Callie turned towards the wagons.

“I didn't think they had started already.”

“They haven't darling. There's a couple of hundred yards of track and points to finish at the quarry head and they expect to test the line next week. We've been invited to attend the opening once the line's certified.”

Callie was eager to see the new track and arranged to meet Maggie up on the moor at the meeting stone early the following morning.

Dawn found Callie and her beloved stallion Sandie galloping along the bridle-path in eager anticipation of the arranged rendezvous with Maggie. She had hoped to enjoy the vista that the seat by the stone offered but the morning mist had denied her that. Indeed, the damp chill of the cold spring morning forced her to remain in her saddle whilst unpacking her heavy riding slicker and buttoning it up so as to cover her whole upper body and Sandie's powerful croup. This caused Sandie's body heat to rise inside the gabardine slicker and keep her warm. She settled easily into the saddle while Sandie grazed on a small patch of lush spring grass until the sound of hooves pre-announced Maggie's arrival through the same mist.

They met and hugged before trotting gently down through the forest and into the valley that took the new railway up the dale to the quarry. Because of the mist they could hear the gangers before they saw them but eventually they arrived at the ridge above the gorge where the track spilled out into what was to be the marshalling yard. A small locomotive and track-laying crane was busy lifting the metals off the flatbed wagon to complete the bypass loops that would enable the arriving locomotive to detach from it's empty train then pass back down the middle loop and attach itself to a loaded train that would be awaiting despatch.

The gang foreman knew Callie from a previous visit when she had joined the survey team one afternoon to watch the surveyor lay out the rail road. He recognised her instantly and waved her up to the perimeter fence where he explained the rules.

“No need to dismount young lady. You can't come on site without hi-vis PPE.”

Callie acknowledged his advice and the foreman joined them at the fence.

“So, I presume you're back home for the holidays,” he observed.

Callie nodded and smiled before observing.

“You were quick. It was just grass and rock before Christmas.”

“Aye. Well the Victorians did the hard work, all we had to do was bull-doze some trees and remove a few wagonloads of rocks and rubbish. It's only a score of miles of track bed to the mainline.”

Callie nodded, introduced Maggie then they made their excuses. She could see it was only a couple of days work before the rail-spur was complete. He bid them good-day and returned to the work. The pair set off for the road that had previously been the bridle-path. Fresh new tarmac already showed muddy tracks where heavy trucks had hauled in the crushing and sorting plant for assembly. Maggie studied the muddy clomps of clay.

“Just imagine that being brought in by road trucks every day. The place would be a quagmire in days.”

“Vive le chemin de fer,” Callie replied.

“Yeah, but they could have shipped in the crushing plant on a train.”

“I suppose they wanted to get on. Once the lane was tarmac'd they couldn't wait.”

Maggie nodded and the two turned off the road to resume riding along the escarpment that would eventually disappear with the quarrying.

“Just think, this whole ridge will be just a precipitous cliff in a few decades as they peel the limestone off.”

“It'll soon return to nature though, after the quarrying moves along the ridge. It will be even more spectacular with a precipitous cliff and it will attract rock climbers as well,” Callie observed before adding: “That'll attract more visitors to the dale and more business for the village.”

Maggie frowned.

“My God girl, you don't miss a buck do you.”

“I'm thinking of the local people Mags; a two mile long cliff nearly six hundred feet high, that's an awful lot of rock climbing and only accessible by our private road. That's an awful lot of tourist bucks.”

“And an ugly pink rash.” Maggie snorted.

“We're all part of the ugly pink rash Mags, whether we arrived a thousand years ago with the Vikings or five years ago.”

Maggie nodded ruefully.

“And to think, mum and dad moved here to enjoy the peace of the countryside.”

Callie grinned then shrugged and they trotted along the road until the came to the gate of Maggie's farm. Here they separated after arranging to meet after lunch and Callie continued along the road to take the easier round-about route home. Sandie was moving at an easy trot as they entered a section where the road had cut through a small hill and was bordered by high grassy banks topped with a dense hedge on both sides. It was only wide enough for a single truck to pick its way carefully between the high banks and Callie could see several muddy patches on the new tarmac where the trucks hauling the crushing plant had scraped against and loosened clods of earth from both sides of the road.

About half way into the high banking Callie realised that a vehicle was approaching from behind and she would meet with it at the worst possible location where the lane twisted for a couple of hundred yards and the banking was at it's highest. The sound of the racing engine eventually identified the vehicle as a car travelling fast and therefore dangerously. Sandie had also sensed the danger and Callie felt him tense nervously. It seemed that he also knew the lane was too narrow with little room for a horse and car to squeeze past.

“Damn it!” she cursed as she searched in vain for a refuge while the car swept around the corner to terrify Sandie by it's sudden appearance and screeching tyres.

“You stupid bastard!” Callie screamed as the car scraped past horse and rider causing Sandie to rear up as his hooves struck the wing of the powerful Mercedes. In her fright, Callie had no time to anticipate Sandie's actions and she was thrown violently onto the rear of the car before sliding into the road unconscious. The car didn't stop but just raced on down the lane leaving Callie unconscious on the tarmac while Sandie screamed in pain and went limping painfully down the lane bound for the safest place he knew; Denton Hall stables.

The first anybody else knew of the incident was when Sandie arrived in the stable yard riderless and still bleeding. After calling the emergency services, Molly Denton phoned Jane Arnold.

“Maggie's here Molly. She came back about half an hour ago. I'll go and get her.”

Molly tapped her finger impatiently until Maggie came to the phone and described where and when they had parted. Several search parties were quickly organised and eventually Jane Arnold found Callie lying at the edge of the road. Having located her the Police soon arrived, followed by the ambulance and soon Callie was on her way to casualty.

At first the traffic Sergeant thought that it had simply been a riding accident until the vet who had been called to attend to Sandie reported his convictions on his mobile to the traffic Sergeant at the scene. They knew each other as many rural people living in a small town often did.

“Are your sure of that Mr Lloyd?”

“Absolutely Sergeant. There was a nasty gash on the animal's rear left leg with some blue paint and broken glass embedded in the wound. It looks as though the horse was hit by a wing mirror. Please have your lads check the site for any mirror parts, there must be some glass on the road. I've saved the bits from the wound for your forensic lads to check out. When we looked at the left forefoot there was the same blue paint embedded in the metal shoe. I had the farrier remove it and the nails for your guys to look at.”

“Thank you Mr Lloyd, is the animal badly hurt?”

“He'll survive but it will leave a scar. Happily no bones were broken and she doesn't show him but he's a fine animal and I know several people have bred foals off him with excellent results in the jumping ring. I don't think the wound should affect his mobility after it's healed. Was Callie hurt?”

“She was unconscious when they found her and she's in casualty now. They suspect she's got a broken collar-bone and possible skull damage. I'll have forensics attend the scene immediately.”

The traffic officer returned to the scene and immediately spotted some broken glass shards and bits of plastic almost completely buried in the mud at the side of the road. It was obvious that somebody had scuffed the pieces towards the side with their foot to hide them in the mud. The Sergeant called it in and immediately started photographing the scene before his partner and Jane Arnold carefully set about collecting the bits. Soon they had hard evidence of a vehicle / animal collision and that pointed to a hit-and-run. Jane Arnold even found some blood and animal hair on the largest piece of broken plastic.

She told the Sergeant:“That's definitely Sandie's hair. The sandy colour exactly describes Sandie's name. Your forensic team will confirm it.”

The Sergeant nodded and went to help his patrol partner isolate the scene. By mid afternoon, they had all the evidence they wanted and after interviewing the track gang at the quarry they had a pretty certain idea of the driver of the car.

Small rural communities have one small advantage when the police need to solve a local crime. Everybody knows everybody else and a fair bit of each other's business as well. Some people may not appreciate that invasiveness but at times it is invaluable.It's hard for newcomers to hide, especially when they drive around aggressively in large expensive cars. Although the 'local bobby' is an evanescent creature in British policing, many police officers choose to live in small rural communities to get away from the pressures of 'big-city' policing. One such officer was the patrol Sergeant who was also something of a car 'geek' when it came to cars. The foreman ganger soon confirmed that Mr James Denton had a dark blue Mercedes and the sergeant had recognised the mirror shards colour as Mercedes model, Capri Blue Metallic.

A visit to Billerton Post Office soon confirmed that James Denton had stopped briefly at the post office to buy some stamps then driven off towards Harrogate. He returned to the patrol car and spoke to his WPC partner.

“Bit of detective work for you Betty. You live near Harrogate don't you.”

“Yes Sarge.”

“The main Merc' dealer, d' you know it?”

She nodded then added. “And several paint shops that do contract work for them.”

He nodded and smiled at the W.P.C.'s perspicacity.

“Perhaps you're ahead of me. Blues and twos girl. Lets get there before they close.”

The woman police constable's knowledge proved spot on and before five they had located the Merc' under a canvas cover in one of the contracting paint shops. A quick check confirmed the ownership and the damage more or less confirmed the car's part in the collision. A broken mirror, a large dent with scratches to the right-hand front wing and mud spatters to match the mud in the lane. They called it in and by seven p.m., the car was in the Harrogate Police compound. James Denton was apprehended the following day at Manchester Airport.

Later investigation the following day matched Sandie's steel shoe to the dent in the wing while the broken wing mirror had traces of Sandie's blood and horse hair. James Denton was caught bang-to-rights.

Callie had suffered a fractured clavicle, mandible and zygomatic bone but fortunately her riding helmet had saved her from further head trauma or brain injury. For the remainder of the Easter holidays she had to endure pins in her cheek, jaw and collar bone but fortunately there was no permanent deformity or scarring. She was lucky, James Denton was not.

The Police had elected to take the case to the crown court and a jury trial. He got a five year prison sentence for dangerous driving and attempting to pervert the course of justice, plus a ten year driving ban to follow his discharge from prison. He was also banned from going within five miles of Denton Hall. Naturally, he lost his position as managing director of the company that operated the quarry. As a convicted criminal he was not allowed to hold a Directorship in the UK.

For the remainder of the Easter holidays and several weeks into the summer term, Callie had pins in her jaw and shoulder thus she was excused sports. This irked her slightly for although she was developing more as a female she still enjoyed her rowing and running.

~~oo000oo~~

Heir to a title Chapter 25

“Crickey! Your head looks like a scrap metal yard!” Michael observed when Callie returned to school. “How long will those be in your face?”

“Abouh- shix weeks.” Callie replied then held up a notice. -' The less I talk and try to move my jaw, the quicker I heal.' -

“So I suppose laughing's out as well?” Michael grinned.

Callie gave him an 'old' look and stuck two fingers up at him. Michael grinned again then eventually turned to a more serious note.

“Obviously I'll help you out. You were lucky.”

Callie nodded slightly and slowly, it hurt to make violent head and neck movements. Then she cautiously put both hands together and made a sleeping sign to indicate she was tired. The journey from Yorkshire to Eton had not been and easy one.

“Will you need help undressing.” Michael asked wondering if his friend might be offended and think it was some sort of salacious endeavour.

Callie looked him directly in the eye as she tried to gauge her friends intent.

“Ah ooww theriouth, - ooww know,- nothing thecual.”

Michael frowned.

“You more than anybody should know I'm gay, I don't like women.”

“Yea bu' ooww know, I'm thtill a bwoy down there.”

“Trust me Callie. When I say I'm your friend, I mean it.”

Callie gave him a beseeching look of uncertainty then nodded and tapped at the shoulder strap of her top with her good hand. Michael recognised her request and carefully eased the strap over her head and shoulder, then he peeled the rest of the top up over Callie's body to reveal her nicely formed breasts and pretty lace bra. Next came the more intimate activity as Michael unfastened Callie's bra and gently lifted the shoulder straps clear. Callie inevitably tried to cover her breasts with her arms but the injured left shoulder made a poor job of it. To emphasise his lack of intent, Michael took the loose long tee-shirt from the drawer and closed his eyes as he proffered it to Callie who painfully inveigled her good arm into the right sleeve before having to accept help with her left arm. Eventually the top tumbled down to Callie's thighs and only then did she feel confident to remove her leggings and knickers. She wriggled free of them but found it tricky to balance on one leg whilst she put her sleep pants on. Michel quickly caught on and stretched out a supporting hand to hold Callie's injured side. She winced slightly but was grateful for the help and thanked him. Eventually she flopped onto her bed and smiled.

“Thankth ooww.”

“I'll go and get you some hot chocolate.”
“Thankth ooww.”

Like all the previous nights since the incident, Callie slept fitfully but with each night the discomfort got marginally less. By the middle of the summer term she eventually achieved a reasonable night's sleep. Finally the day arrived when the first pins were taken out of her cheek-bone and collar bone, though her jaw bone, being more mobile, needed another couple of weeks.. It was the summer holidays before Callie was fully fit and ready again.

The train journey home gave her a double pleasure for Maggie had arranged to meet with Michael and Callie at Paddington Station. Michael and Callie waited eagerly for the Cheltenham train to arrive then the three shared a taxi across London to Kings Cross Station because they had too much luggage to take the tube. Finally they settled down to a couple of hours peaceful chat as the train raced north to York. Several phone-calls where made by each of them and eventually they organised a three week period when the three could meet and stay together at Denton Hall in Yorkshire.

To Callie's delight her maternal great Aunt Beverly had arranged to stay because she had some important business deals to sort out with the Germans. An extra ship was being discussed because the Hull Hamburg trade had expanded faster than expected. It was a matter of buy in a ship or charter one. As they costed the exercise, Great Aunt Beverly was busy having discussions for three weeks. Her German manager had found a ship and he had located several sources of finance enough to buy a ship. The discussions centred on Great Auntie Beverly going shares on the ship or letting her German manager demonstrate a greater loyalty to the venture by risking all his own resources.

In ordinary circumstances Beverly would have eagerly bought all the shares in the ship whether chartered or purchased but her German manager was keen to become a director on the board. He and Beverly had found working together to be a joyous experience and he wished to become a director. The visit to Hull was centred around these negotiations. Inevitably Molly (Callie's Paternal grandmother,) inveigled Beverly to bring along her wife Angela and their assorted brood of children

Consequently, for a fortnight in August Denton Hall rang to laughter. It also gave Callie a excellent opportunity to learn more about the maternal side of her family. She also learned for the first time about her great aunt's childhood.

For a week, Callie had indulged herself and invited as many of her friends and relations as she could. With all her relatives present from both sides they had enough people to organise a 'twenty-twenty' cricket match on the field behind the house one sunny afternoon. As the afternoon heated up, Callie found herself lazing in a garden chair while her side where just starting their innings. She was hot after finishing her bowling stint and, because she was middle order batting she anticipated a chance to grab a seat. She was savouring a cold glass of sweetened lemon juice when a soft voice interrupted Callie's idle thoughts.

“Afternoon darling. You bowled well so I presume the arm's fully healed.”

Callie immediately recognised her great aunt and offered her seat.

“Hello Auntie Bev,” she replied as she stood up to hug her and meet her great Aunt's guest. “Yes it's fine,” she swung it over her shoulder to demonstrate.

“This is Hans, he's my manager from the German end of the business. _ Hans, meet my great niece the future Duke of Denton.”

Callie's eyes scanned Hans's features and concluded that if she had been into men, he would have been a delicious prospect. Instead she extended her hand and he shook it warmly. Then one of her older cousins saw Hans and soon moved in on him and invite him into Denton Hall for the 'grand tour'. This left Callie alone with her great Aunt.

“So my little niece. How's life amongst the nobility suiting you?”

Callie grinned before answering with one word.

“Hectic.”

“Yes, I had heard; but I presume things have settled down now.”

“At last,” Callie confirmed. “So, great auntie of mine; what have you been up to?”

“Oh tying up a lot of loose ends, my adopted daughters, Jennie and Bea don't seem too interested in running the company, just enjoying the dividends. Consequently, my niece Ellie is taking over at the helm. She'll be managing director and I'll just attend board meetings. It gives me more time for stuff like this – family gatherings.”

Callie dragged two chairs to a shadier spot and the pair set to chatting about family. Since becoming the heir to the title Callie had inevitably become more interested in family history. She was shocked and distressed to finally learn of her great aunt's childhood. Through tearful eyes she concluded.

“I don't think I will ever trust social workers again.”

Aunt Beverly smiled softly and shrugged.

“They weren't social workers Callie, they were prison wardens, doctors, psychiatrists and lawyers. Social workers were very small beer way back in those days. Many local authorities could hardly claim to even have had a social services department to speak of. Anyway, it's water under the bridge now. I'm happy with my life and I've got a full blood daughter by Angela. Megan's half sister to Jennie and Bea, so my life's fulfilled.”

“Will she take over the shipping line from my mum when she's older?”

“Who can say Callie. So far she's shown little interest. Only your mum Ellie seems to have the acumen for it. It must be her mathematical mind.”

Callie nodded thoughtfully then went to the catering tent and brought two large fresh fruit drinks. When she returned, Auntie Beverly was dozing. She stood momentarily holding the drinks and wondering whether to wake her but her dilemma was solved when her mother Ellie appeared glowing from her exertions at the cricket crease. She spoke softly in Callie's ear.

“Don't wake her, she often has a little nap at this time. Don't forget,. She's seventy now. D'you want me to have that, if she wakes up I'll get another one.”

Callie handed the drink and Ellie spotted the glint of a tear in Callie's eye.

“What's wrong darling?”
“Auntie Bev has just told me about her childhood and how she got started in shipping.”

Ellie wasn't certain what to say so she probed gently.

“Was she upset when she was telling you?”

“I couldn't tell. She seemed more resigned to it than anything else. She should be proud of what she's achieved, broadcast it to the world.”

“I think she's just glad she can talk about it now. For many years she kept it bottled up it's only since she met your grandfather Bill that she's moved forward on it. Did she say how they met?”

“No.”

“Well that's another chapter again. D' you want to hear it or have you heard enough already?”

“Enough for one day. She should write a book. It must have been horrible back in those days.”

“It was but a lot depended on parental attitudes.”

“You mean Great Grandma Charlotte?”

“The very same. Don't you remember the row we had in the cottage in Dorset?”

“I vaguely remembered the shouting and you telling Nana Charlotte off. I never really understood what it was all about. I was too young to really grasp the whole story of course and Nana Charlotte never told me. Now I understand the whole thing, the abuse, the hurt, everything.”

As she thought again about the whole story, Callie's eyes started to glisten with sorrow.

Ellie nodded though she remained silent but Callie's sadness was turning to anger.

“I'd love to tell her what I thought of her – the bitch! How could she do that to a six-year-old child?”

“Don't worry darling, lot's of people have condemned her for that.”

“She should have been locked up.”

“Well I don't think that would work. Nana Charlotte is one hundred and four now. Prison would kill her. The train journey was arduous enough, that's why Grandpa Bill came across country via Birmingham to avoid the trek with Taxis and luggage across London.”

“And to think, I kissed her only this morning when she was helped off the train by Grandpa Bill. Is that why she's staying at the hotel?”

“Yes, we thought it best to keep her and Auntie Bev apart. They are still not reconciled and I don't suppose they ever will be.”

“I still say she was a bitch!”

“That's as maybe darling but all I ask is that you don't go shouting at her now. She's shown enough remorse and you may not have noticed but Auntie Bev never speaks to her. That's punishment enough for any mother especially when she's realised she was in the wrong.”

“Well to be honest, I hadn't noticed. I mean the house is so big and I've not had a chance to speak to everybody what with the cricket and all. Anyway, I love my auntie Bev so I'm siding with her. I'll not speak to Nana Charlotte either.”

“She's your guest Callie. That would be very rude after inviting her to stay for a week. Besides, she is your great grandmother, you can hardly ignore her. As I said and I'm sure Auntie Bev has also told you, things were very different back in those days.”

“Yeah, I suppose I owe Auntie Bev a lot. She must have fought some tough battles.”

“She did Callie, but they were not famous, publicised battles. More like little skirmishes, here and there, mostly with doctors or lawyers or judges. She steered clear of the media through her middle years because she was hiding as a captain in the merchant navy. Nothing of the April Ashleys or Christine Jorgensens in Beverly's existence.”

“So she was really a coward.”

“Was she Callie? There were many who tried to confront the media and be open about their transgenderism. All too often the efforts blew up in their faces because of the salacious attitudes of the press and the bigotry associated with editorial sexism. Too many of Auntie Bev's contemporaries ended up dead; whether by suicide or homicide, it mattered not to the victims. Others were forced to go underground or 'stealth' as they say just to hold down some menial job.

For Auntie Bev I suppose it was all about raw survival especially after the battles of her childhood. She'd fought and survived enough battles as a 'lab-rat' in her earliest years. The battles that others fought in their twenties, thirties or even their forties, were adversities that Auntie Bev met with and seemingly defeated - or at least survived in her adolescence and early teens. What's more she did it alone so who are we to call her a coward after she lived through all that. Did she tell you everything?”

“How would I know?” Callie replied apologetically.

“Very true Callie, she might have told you everything but alternatively, she might also have decided to save your sensibilities. I'm not sure if I know all the story but what I did learn was enough to make me sick and resolve never to ask her again. It must hurt her even yet. Coward she might be Callie though I would contest that belief. Whatever people might think or say about her darling you can believe one thing about Auntie Bev! She's a survivor.”

With that, a roar went up as the ball scuttled towards the boundary at Callie's feet. Callie instantly recognised the approaching 'four' that would confirm the narrowest of victories for it was the penultimate ball of the last over. They had made it with one ball to spare and a victory of two runs.
The roar woke Auntie Beverly and she looked around slightly disorientated for a moment. Callie stepped over to her chair.

“Are you alright Auntie?”

“Uuhm, yes. I wondered where I was for a moment.”

“Lost in your dreams were you?”

“Sort of darling.”

“What were you dreaming of?”

Auntie Beverly frowned uncertainly but said nothing.

Even as Callie had asked the question she felt Ellie gently tug her cricket shirt and speak softly.

“Auntie Bev doesn't remember her dreams, even immediately after waking up. We think it's some sort of survival blocking thing.”

Callie asked innocently.

“Is that true Auntie?”

Ellie scolded her daughter mildly.

“Don't embarrass her Cal'.”

Beverly smiled.

“It's alright Ellie, I'm not made of glass.” Then she answered Callie's question. “Yes darling it's true, for some reason I don't seem to remember my dreams; your mum may be right but to be honest, I don't really know why and I long ago gave up worrying about it.”

“Did you ever speak to a therapist?”

“Callie!!” Ellie almost croaked in her endeavours to convey her disapproval without drawing attention.

Beverly shrugged and pacified her niece.

“It's okay Ellie, let the child speak, one day she'll have to meet them – therapists that is -.”

She then turned to Callie.

“Frankly darling I avoid therapists and psychiatrists. Too much water over the dam to explain here and now.

Callie nodded silently. She felt a little chastened to have been inadvertently invasive but she really wanted to know. She resolved to speak again when they had a more private moment. After all, the issues that her great Aunt had either confronted or dodged in her long life, might one day confront her, even though the current climate was infinitely better.

She found herself having new respect for Auntie Bev for it seemed her beloved relative had learned to pick both the times and places to fight her battles; just like Napoleon - and Callie considered him to be, without doubt, one of the finest generals to have ever lived.

As the extended family and friends gathered for cakes and tea after the game, Callie bumped into her great-grand-mother Charlotte and her grandfather William who was helping the elderly matriarch into the large sofa in the library. Remembering her mother Ellie's words, she forced herself to join the pair and make polite conversation. The main gist of the meeting seemed to revolve around Charlotte's sycophantic concentration of her great-grand-child's seeming wealth and status as soon-to-be duke. Callie was secretly relieved when her gay school-friend Michael spotted Callie's dilemma and rescued her with a request to go to the stables with a view to going riding the following morning.

Throughout the rest of the family gathering, Callie only spoke to her great-grand-mother a couple of times and then only to exchange the briefest of comments. Callie presumed she was free and clear of any bigoted influences that her great-grand-mother might try to have over her life. This was not to be.

~~oo000oo~~

Sorry about the long delay.

I've been busy moving house, renovating bedrooms, installing bathrooms and I'm still not finished. The rest of this years I'm building an extension to my new home in Bristol so that I have a ground level 'granny annexe' ready for when I'm old and slow.

Characters.

Ellie. (Eleanor) The prime Character.

Bill (William) her father, (obviously).

Callie short for Callisto) Ellie’s only daughter. Initially she was called Callum - a transgendered son.

Charlotte. (Nana) Ellie’s Paternal Grandmother (Callie's great-grand-mother)

Sandie (Sandra) Ellie’s Older Aunt

Rosie (Rose) Ellie’s Younger Aunt

Henry Ellie’s boyfriend and husband. (Second son of the Duke of Denton)

Molly Duchess of Denton. Henry’s mother.

Bev (Beverly) Ellie’s aunt (Previously Uncle Bernard and brother to her dad.)

Jennifer. (Jennie) Beverly's older adopted daughter.

Beatrice (Bea) Beverly's younger adopted daughter.

Lucy, Henry’s oldest niece, Callum’s cousin.

Eleanor, Henry’s middle niece Callum’s cousin. Same name as Ellie.

Virginia Henry’s youngest niece, Callum’s cousin

Julie Ellie’s sister-in-law.

Angela(Angie) Beverly’s wife (kidnapped by pirates and rescued.)

Megan Beverly’s only blood daughter by Angela.

Margaret Arnold.(Maggie) Callie's best female friend. (Later fiance)

Jane Arnold, Maggie's mother.

Peter Arnold, Maggie's dad.

James Denton (The Ferrety Denton) Callie's ambitious, uncle.

Heir to a Title 26

As the strains of 'Happy birthday Dear Callie' faded away, a round of applause thundered around the ballroom of Denton hall. The roll continued until Callie held up her hands to signal for silence again.

Finally the guests fell silent and she spoke.

“Firstly of course, I want to thank everybody here for making my eighteenth birthday such a happy occasion. As you all know, since the new legislation, I come into my title today and finally get to inherit the estates. However, I firstly have to thank my mum Duchess Eleanor and my grandmother Dowager Duchess Matilda whom you all know as Ellie and Molly and who have done so-o much to keep my inheritance intact.

Mum, Grandma, I cannot ever thank you enough except to say I will do everything in my powers to see that inheritance continue to thrive and serve our family for the future.

Now, as you all know, I will at sometime in the coming years, finally elect to become a woman. I know' I can hear you saying I look like a woman already, well that's thanks to my incredible family though I hardly have to tell any of you about the personal sacrifices I have made on that issue in trying to accommodate the title and inheritance issues. I'm sure you will all know my feelings for I have made no secret of my needs.
Consequently there's little more me to say except to state here and now that my marriage to Margaret will be one based on mutuality and equality, and to that end, I hand you over to Maggie so she can add a few words.”

The room fell expectantly silent as Maggie stood and took the microphone off her fiancé.

“Thank you everybody, now I've got a few words to say on both our behalves.
Firstly, we wont be getting married until after both of us have finished at university so don't start making any preparations just yet.

Secondly, and most importantly, we don't expect to be having children until after that date. Everybody here knows that for the first born child to inherit the dukedom after Callie, he or indeed she will have to be legitimate. Neither I nor Callie have any intentions of endangering our child's claim to his or her title after we have gone. This may sound somewhat premature to those here today, but Callie has had enough hassle already concerning potential conflicts between her transgenderism and ducal inheritance rights. Neither of us want any more.

I think it's common knowledge by now, that Callie has taken alternative cryogenic steps to ensure our having children. So that's all I've got to add except to thank you all for coming to the party and being so supportive.”

As Maggie stood aside, her father stepped forward. She glanced questioningly towards her fiancé Callie who smiled and nodded. Peter Arnold took the microphone and paused as he gathered his thoughts. His decision to add a few words had been spontaneous and he frowned thoughtfully before speaking.

“As the man who I hope will be giving my only daughter away, I have to add that I give my full blessing to this union though I have been asked by Maggie's mum for one big favour.”
He paused for effect then boldly made the request.

“I know that neither of you are religious but as a favour to your mother and I; Maggie can you possibly get wed in a church because your mum wants the pleasure of a new outfit on the day and I would like the pleasure of accompanying you down the aisle. It's not much to ask.

Then with a fatherly smile he put his arm around Maggie and added; “I also look forward to the day I am a grandfather. That's all I have to say.”

To her parents delight, both Maggie and Callie nodded and smiled.

Denton hall rang to another round of applause followed by a buzz of chatter as guests settled down to the birthday cum engagement meal. Callie and Maggie ate sparsely before setting off around the tables to chat briefly with the guests. Finally the DJ started the music and conversationalists were forced to retreat to the library, drawing room and morning room if they wanted to continue chatting while other friends strutted their stuff on the ballroom floor.

By the end of the evening both Callie and Maggie were exhausted from circulating between talkers and dancers. Bed proved to be a welcome relief and both fell asleep as soon as their heads hit the pillow.

Dawn found Maggie snuggled up to Callie only to be surprised by a very rare and unexpected development. She reached down and stroked the invader through Callie's panties.

“Mmmm,” she sighed into Callie's sleepy ear, “are you able to use that?”

“Wha-?” Callie mumbled still not fully awake.

Maggie squeezed the welcome arrival and whispered again.

”When was the last time he came to breakfast?”

Callie jerked with surprise as she felt Maggie's busy hands.

“Ah! Oooh! Watch'oo doin' babes?”

Maggie stroked it and Callie squirmed with delight as she finally woke fully and realised what was happening. Her hand joined Maggie's and confirmed what she could hardly believe.

“Oh my God! I've got a stiffy! I'm so sorry girl!”

Maggie giggled.

“Bloody hell girl! Don't apologise. That's the best dildo I could have ever shared with you. I hope you're not going to waste it.”

So saying she slid her leg over Callie's thigh and deftly slipped her panties off while simultaneously whispering.

“I'm game if you are.”

Callie gasped as she quickly realised Maggie's intent.

“Are you sure love? You mustn't get pregnant.”

“Don't be silly lover girl, I'm on the pill.”

Callie's smile turned to a grin as she slipped her own panties off to lie invitingly naked for Maggie to slide onto her. Gently, she inveigled her legs between Maggie's and as they came together, their bare breasts mashed sensitively. Both girls croaked with delight as their stiffening nipples brushed together.

“Are you okay with this?” Callie asked one more time.

For an answer, Maggie reached down and fingered her vagina then pressed her fingers to Callie's lips. Callie licked her lips and grinned.

“Stupid question,” she answered her own query as she craned her head to lock lips with Maggie.

With all doubts removed, the pair took pains that the union was entered into slowly and gently as each endeavoured to please the other. Their efforts proved successful and it was a very surprised Ellie who found them still locked in a somnolent, nuptial embrace when she brought them breakfast.

“Well,” she smiled softly, “congratulations! This is a surprise. Will you not be wanting this then?”

The pair woke then blushed and pulled belatedly at the bed covers to cover their lower nudity. Once they were decent, Ellie placed the tray on the bedside table and blew them a kiss as she retreated. Through her blushes Maggie smirked at Callie.

“That's what I like about your mum, she's got style and panache!”

Callie grinned back.

“Well you know what we nobility say about not scaring the horses.”

Maggie reached out with both hands and gently tweaked Callie's nipples. Callie squeaked and a tickling match ensued to the accompaniment of squeaks and mutual, muffled appeals for mercy. Finally calm returned to the bed and hunger helped them demolish the breakfast. As Maggie padded softly to the bathroom she stared out of the windows to see their horses galloping across the field.

“I think we might have disturbed the horses darling, Sandie is obviously awake.”

Callie noted her stallion Sandie's excited condition and gave a snort of laughter before joining her fiancée in the shower. As her hands gently slid around Maggie's waist, Maggie pressed the cleft of her derrière against Callie's body and savoured the two engorged nipples pressing into her back. Callie's other indicator had however failed to respond a second time and Maggie felt the slightest twinge of regret. She sighed softly and, what she thought was non-committally but Callie's feminine radar proved too sensitive.
She whispered uncertainly.

“Are you certain you're happy with me having 'the op'?

The fractional delay in Maggie's answer served only to deepen Callie's uncertainty. She released her embrace and stepped around Maggie to face her. Maggie read the nervousness in Callie's eyes and frowned before replying. Honesty was the best policy.

“I love you deeply as a woman Callie, but this morning was a delicious surprise. I must confess it felt good.”

Callie's eyes hooded as she glanced down to indicate her male appendage and asked.

“D'you want me to keep it?”

“Do you want to keep it?” Maggie countered.

It was Callie's turn to pause. Her feelings towards her penis were fairly ambivalent because her sense of identity had mostly been in her head. The truth was that physically she could 'take-it-or-leave-it' as far as her genitalia went. She had experienced (as best as she knew) both forms of orgasm and truly felt that the female orgasm was by far the best. The long slow pulsing waves of body twisting delight followed by the intense climax and the long languorous descent had seemed to her the best way to approach sleep and it belied the conventional belief about men always falling asleep after sex. Callie invariably drifted into a deep and utterly satisfying sleep after enjoying a female climax. This despite still possessing a functioning and sensitive male organ.

Having finished their mutual shower they were reluctant to get up and both returned to the bed after blow-drying their hair. Even when silence returned and they were able to chat again, Callie remained unexpectedly silent.

Her thoughtful silence wrought a nervous response from Maggie.

“Are you sure you're a girl – a woman Cal'?”

The question brought Callie out of her reflection.

“In my head, yes! Yes, definitely but, but this morning was nice. I just wondered – that's all.”

“Wondered what? Explain.please Maggie beseeched. ”

Callie hesitated as she gathered her thoughts.

“Well;” she hesitated again,” I'm definitely a girl – in my head; my brain that is; and my brain you understand, is what makes me human. To be a girl, I have first to be a human being so if my brain makes me human and that brain is female, then that makes me a female. Who was that philosopher who said 'I think, therefore I am'?”

“That was Descartes, Rene Descartes the Frenchman,” Maggie answered, “go on, this is interesting.”

“Well that's just about it,” Callie continued haltingly. “For me, sentience is all. I see myself as primarily just a brain. I suppose that's partly the maths thing – like my mother, but the rest of the stuff going on between my ears is definitely female. I'm happy with that. Brain gender is everything to me, the body stuff is immaterial inasmuch as my legs are just scaffolding, my arms are just utility while my trunk is just bricks and mortar and that's it really. My body is just a logistical system that supports my head and brain. Body gender doesn't seem to matter to me except that it makes it easier to make my way amongst others. In other words, I find female company much more pleasant and I prefer their company because it's much more accommodating, more supportive, more sympathetic, more interesting and, put simply, more fun.”

“Are you saying that I'm just fun?” Maggie gasped. “That's not a good basis for a marriage! Is it?”

Callie stopped in her tracks and gaped stupidly.

“No! That's not what I'm saying at all! I was explaining why my body parts are not important to me. I can use my penis just the same as I use my eyes or my ears or my hands, there's little emotional inter-reaction with my using them. Relationships however, are a completely different business, for me that's cerebral stuff. Everybody can have different relationships with different people or different things. I was explaining why I want to feminise my body to facilitate an easier relationship with the rest of the society that I find so much more pleasurable.

I don't want to have to go living my life fighting a constant battle with the rest of humanity. That's one relationship I certainly want to enjoy so presenting as a female makes it much easier for others and therefore easier for me.”

Maggie nodded slowly before pointing out. “You haven't answered my question.”

Callie frowned as she wagged her head irritably.

“Please let me finish. My relationship with you is much more cerebral as well as emotional; call it love if you will but it's in here I love you,”

Callie tapped her skull before continuing.

“That cerebral love is an emotional love and that is a far stronger foundation to build a marriage on than just sex. I'll still be loving you when physicality or any type of sex is long grown old and only cuddles are left. As the Beatles wrote - 'I'll still love you when I'm sixty-five'."

Maggie's expression softened as her frown faded and a smile started to spread across her face. She rolled across the bed and pursed her lips expectantly. Callie wrapped her arms around her and their lips locked for almost a minute before Maggie gasped for air. Her heart was beating furiously as she recovered. Callie released her embrace and gently stroked Maggie's naked body. She shuddered as goose-pimples erupted and Callie pulled the duvet across the bed again to cover them both. As Maggie recovered her breath, Callie snuggled up again and the pair spooned together again.

It was fully another hour before a knowing knock disturbed their pillow chat.

“Are you two getting up today,” Molly asked through the door.

Callie recognised her grandmother's voice and reluctantly answered.

“Come in Nan, we're just pillow chatting.”

The old lady entered with a tray of coffee and set it down before stepping across to collect the dressing gowns and offer them to the bed-bound pair.

“I thought you had showered, Ellie told me you had.”

“We have,” Maggie replied, “we just needed to chat.”

“D' you want me to leave?”

“No, we're not shy if your not,” Callie chuckled as Maggie slapped her on the arm.

“Speak for yourself!”

Molly turned her head diplomatically to stare out of the window as the pair quickly donned their gowns. And got up.”

“Okay, we're decent now Nan.” Callie confirmed as she took the coffee pot and noted three cups. She filled them as Molly joined them at the little bedroom breakfast table.

“I'm back into Leeds this afternoon to sort out the last of your grandfather's affairs. D' you fancy going in?”

“We could do, we've got nothing else planned.”

“I'll also be ferrying your Great-grand-mother and your grand-dad to the station. It would be nice to have somebody to help share the driving and luggage carrying.”

Callie felt a small twinge of remorse for she had studiously avoided all but the most fleeting contact with her maternal grandmother. If there was anything to be said, it would best said in the car with her grand-father and future wife as witnesses not to mention the dowager duchess. Molly left after finishing the coffee and the pair prepared to drive to Leeds.

“Will you have much to say to her?” Maggie asked.

“If she asks, yes. I know she's reputedly said sorry to great Aunt Beverly but how can words ever repay the damage?”

“Words are all she's got,” Maggie pointed out. “She hasn't got much time if you and her are going to find reconciliation. Your mum Ellie seems to have managed it fairly well and she's really close to Beverly. What's more, even your auntie Bev seemed to be considering reconciliation. Perhaps death does that to people- you know, you're grand-father Harry's death and stuff. He was good to Auntie Beverly. She told me she wished they had chatted a lot more.”

“I suppose so, but I'd prefer to speak to auntie Bev first.”

Maggie produced her mobile phone.

“Here. Now is as good a time as ever, before we travel to Leeds.”

Callie took the ringing phone and spoke to her aunt.

“Yes darling we did have a brief chat.”

“And where you reconciled.”

“Pretty much. Charlotte doesn't talk much now so I don't have to struggle to maintain a conversation, just a few courteous words and that's that. She's pretty much going 'ga-ga' now anyway.”

“Should I forgive her?”

“What for. Ellie and Bill pretty much kept her out of your life. You shouldn't have much of a gripe with her. Yes, go ahead, by all means talk to her. It doesn't upset me at all.”

Callie felt some small relief and decided to chat with the old lady whilst Grandma Molly drove. After a light lunch they loaded the car and left Denton Hall. Callie stuck with her resolve and eventually her great-grand-mother responded albeit a bit vaguely. She was after all, one hundred and four.

Eventually, as the tensions in the car eased, they fell to discussing Callie and Maggie's future and eventual marriage.

In part, the conversation followed of from the couple's earlier pillow chat and Charlotte fell into a confused silence as she struggled to follow the gist of the conversation that had drifted around to parenthood and future heirs to the dukedom.

“Are you serious darling?” Auntie Molly asked after the subject of transitioning and fatherhood had cropped up.

“Callie seems okay with it.” Maggie observed.

“So it's not that urgent then, for the both of you I mean.”

“If Maggie's happy with me keeping my bits a little bit longer, then I am. It really isn't important to me Grandma. It's all about Maggie marrying her girlfriend with male bits, at least until the heirs are born.”

“My God!” William chuckled. “You make it sound like a stud farm.”

“Well you've enlightened me!” Molly giggled. “I thought lesbians hated cocks.”

“No Grand-ma – may I call you that now that Callie and I are engaged-? I don't like men. To my eyes, Callie is a girl, you only have to look at her.”

“Well that's the truth,” Charlotte unexpectedly added in a lucid moment. “If she must be a girl, she can at least be a pretty one.”

Callie looked at Maggie and they both burst out laughing.

“So what's the joke?” Grand-pa William pressed.

“That's exactly what we were chatting about this morning in bed.” Maggie explained.

“Go on,” William wondered.

“I'm only considering surgery so that I can mix more comfortably in female company. After Maggie and I chatted this morning, we decided it's not that urgent. Maggie likes girls, I am a girl so the little extra bit is immaterial.”

Maggie let out an unladylike guffaw and snorted.

“What's so funny?” Molly asked almost anticipating the reply.

“Well that little extra bit is a bit better than a dildo! At least until I get older and need more assistance with the vibrations!”

For a moment there was a deafening silence then Molly had to pull over before she lost control of the car. Fortunately they were not on the motor way and a convenient 'lay-by' appeared. Once off the road, Molly's heaving shoulders betrayed her silent mirth until finally she erupted into hysterical uncontrolled laughter.

“It's not that funny,” Callie tried to say before she too collapsed into helpless fits.”

Finally calm returned to the car and Molly probed a bit deeper.

“And what about children. Are you considering the normal route instead of the artificial way?”

“If it works, use it.” That's my philosophy,” Maggie chuckled.

“And you Callie?” Bill added.

“Well it would be much more convenient and simpler I suppose,” Callie observed

“And nicer,” Maggie supplied.

“And less contentious.” Callie added.

“Is that Callie speaking or salic law?” Molly asked.

“Can't say as I'm certain,” Callie confessed.

“Well there's plenty of time to find out darling. We've got three years of Uni before anything advances on the family front.”

Having more-or-less concluded discussions about the gender related family issues the conversation fell to future plans both matrimonial and academic. It gave them time to discuss their college options. Both girls had excelled in their examinations and they now knew that Callie was going to Cambridge to study maths for she had inherited her mother's gift while Maggie was Oxford bound to study zoology.

Heir to a Title Chapter 27.

Characters.

Ellie. (Eleanor) The prime Character.
Bill (William) her father, (obviously). Callie (Callisto) Ellie’s only daughter. Initially Callum - a transgendered son.
Charlotte. (Nana) Ellie’s Paternal Grandmother (Callie's great-grand-mother)
Sandie (Sandra) Ellie’s Older Aunt
Rosie (Rose) Ellie’s Younger Aunt
Henry Ellie’s boyfriend and husband. (Second son of the Duke of Denton)
Molly Duchess of Denton. Henry’s mother.
Bev (Beverly) Ellie’s aunt (Previously Uncle Bernard and brother to her dad.)
Jennifer. (Jennie) Beverly's older adopted daughter.
Beatrice (Bea) Beverly's younger adopted daughter.
Lucy, Henry’s oldest niece, Callum’s cousin.
Eleanor, Henry’s middle niece Callum’s cousin. Same name as Ellie.
Virginia Henry’s youngest niece, Callum’s cousin
Julie Ellie’s sister-in-law.
Angela(Angie) Beverly’s wife (kidnapped by pirates and rescued.)
Megan Beverly’s only blood daughter by Angela.
Margaret Arnold.(Maggie) Callie's best female friend. (Later fiancée)
Jane Arnold, Maggie's mother.
Peter Arnold, Maggie's dad.
James Denton (The Ferrety Denton) Callie's ambitious, uncle.
Callie turned from her dressing table as she spotted the reflection of her mother smiling through the bedroom door
“I've no objections to your coming with me mummy, I suppose there'll be several of your old tutors and lecturers who you'd love to meet again.”
Ellie smiled as she wiped a tear from he eye. Her daughter's departure from the nest and leaving for college was the final milestone to indicate that Callie was fledged. Callie's excellent grades had assured her of a place at Ellie's old college and Ellie had never returned there since Henry had died in the rail crash. She had mixed feelings but felt it only right that her only child should have parental support.
Her father had taken her on her first arrival and Ellie remembered his flush of pride when they first walked through the college gates; the first child in her family to have won a scholarship to Cambridge. Ellie would not have that delight but she felt an even greater thrill as she contemplated the repetition of her own first time of going up.
Callie sensed her mother's reflective mood and grinned.

“Will I find your name carved anywhere, you know; inside a desk or something?”

“Only on the honour's board darling, I was top of my class at graduation.”

For a moment Callie sucked her lip thoughtfully.

“Dunno' if I'll manage that Mummy.”

“Just enjoy your time darling and stay in touch with Maggie. Long distance relationships can get precarious.”

“We've got the internet these days Mummy and Skype.”

“Nothing beats a kiss and a cuddle darling, it's a pity the Varsity line hasn't been re-opened.”

“Talking of railway lines, I'll be able to learn to drive Daddy's locomotive, it's been on loan to the Nene Valley Railway ever since daddy died.”

“I think he'd like that if he's looking down on you.”
Callie didn't answer, she did not believe in gods or heavens but she often wondered about 'after-lives'. Ellie picked up on Callie's silence and changed the subject.
“Is everything packed?”

“I think so Mummy.” She gave her lips one last touch and turned with a smile.
“Shall we start then?”

Ellie nodded and with a final kiss and farewell to the Dowager Duchess the car scrunched away down the drive.

~oo000oo~

The drive to Cambridge proved easy. Ellie knew the road well but she felt honour bound to make a detour to the Nene Valley preservation railway to pay her respects to the railway that had brought so much pleasure to her and Callie's father during their university and courtship years. She had not returned to the railway since the death of her beloved husband Henry in the dreadful railway crash that had robbed Callie of her father and Ellie of her husband and best friend. She reflected silently as Callie followed the directions of the 'sat-nav'. Finally, Ellie's unusually long silence forced Callie to break the tension.

“Penny for your thoughts mummy?” Callie observed.

Ellie turned and touched Callie's hand gently before responding.

“They're worth more than a penny darling.”

Callie was quick to sense what was bothering her mum.

“Oh, sorry mummy; trains, daddy, the -.”

“Yes dear, I was just thinking back.” Ellie interrupted quickly.

It was Callie's turn to reflect.

“Sorry mummy. D'you want to give the railway a miss?”

“No darling. We've come too far out of our way now. Besides, I've arranged to meet an old friend of mine and your father's. I wrote to her when you qualified for Cambridge.”

“Would that be-?”

“James; yes but she lives full time as Jackie now. The last time I saw her was at your dad's funeral. It'll be nice to meet up after all this time.”

They turned off the main road at the familiar junction which Ellie had come to associate for ever with the railway and the carefree days of youth, romance and university. Soon they arrived and Ellie felt her stomach knot with pleasure as she spotted Jackie standing with some other society members. Jackie turned as she realised the unfamiliar car carried a very familiar passenger.

Ellie had hardly got out of the car before Jackie was embracing her tightly. They squeezed each other for several minutes as emotions swept over them while Callie stood close by waiting patiently to be re-introduced. It had been a long time. Eventually the old friends parted tearfully and introductions were made as Jackie led them to the platform where Ellie recognised another old familiar friend; the professor who had taught her to drive Jessica and who had passed Henry fit to take out a full passenger train. A thrill of memories caused her heart to thump as she noted the uncharacteristic name-plate and shining coat of green paint that Jessica now sported. She turned to Jackie as more tears started to flow.

“So she finally got her name-plate then. Bit unusual for a common-or-garden workaday tank engine isn't it? And the green paint, I thought that was for express locomotives only.

“She was named officially in memory of Henry. You know how he loved his Jessica.” The green is to demonstrate her importance to this railway.

“O-oh yes,” Ellie nodded slowly as she turned to Callie. “Well darling, she's got steam up, d' you fancy a short trip?”

“Can I?” Callie wondered uncertainly.

“She's your locomotive darling, I'm sure she's spruced up for this very occasion.”

A collection of nods from the gathered society members confirmed this and Callie self-consciously climbed into the cab. The waiting fireman introduced himself before Callie turned to look out over the little gathering and smile as she saw Jackie emerging from the station office in a pair of engineers' overalls. Jackie joined Callie with the fireman on the footplate and explained that a short trip had been organised once Ellie had changed.
They waited briefly until Callie spotted her mother also emerging from the same station office in a similar pair of overalls.
Once Ellie had clambered onto the footplate she grinned and gave her daughter a 'twirl'.

“Does my bum look big in this?”

Callie grinned then stepped back to let the driver operate the locomotive. She was surprised when the driver gave a brief nod to her mother who slid comfortably onto the little seat, released the brake and slowly opened the throttle. She turned and grinned at Callie's shocked look.

“Yes darling, your dad taught me when we were at college together.”

“Crickey Mummy! Good on yer girl!”

Ellie eased the throttle open some more and soon the locomotive was steaming 'light engine' towards Peterborough. Callie just turned to Jackie and wagged her head wonderingly.

“My mum's full of surprises, are we going all the way into Peterborough?”

Ellie wagged her head as she concentrated on the road ahead.

“No darling, just to the first stop on the line. We have to get to college before lunch then get you registered.”

Callie fell silent and just watched as Jackie and her mum fell to chatting over old times. By the time they had returned to the depot it was as if they had never been apart and as they left the footplate, Callie could not help but notice the glimmer of a tear in her mother's eye.

“Grit in your eye mummy?” Callie asked knowingly.

“I still miss your dad you know.” Ellie replied. “Go and get us a couple of cups of tea while I change out of this delightful overall.
As they sat in the canteen Jackie rejoined them.
“I've got a bit of news for you, she grinned.”

“Go on,” Ellie prompted.

“My daughter might be coming up to Cambridge next year. She's already got the grades and she's under-aged. She's taking a year out while she decides what to do.”

“Oh that'll be lovely.” Ellie enthused. “You're going to have to tell me about her.”

“All in good time Darling,” Jackie replied, “she's dying to meet Callie after reading your letter.”

“Why didn't you bring her up today?”

“As I said, she's doing the 'year out' thing. Currently she's rescuing tigers or something in Vietnam and Cambodia.”

Ellie nodded sagely and they drifted into reminiscing about old times. Jackie told a couple of amusing stories about Callie's dad during their college days and soon it was time to hit the Cambridge road again. Reluctantly, mother and daughter parted company with Jackie and they arrived at the college soon after twelve.
“Your room is close to my old room,” Ellie explained, “I'll sort out a porter while you make your way to the office, get registered and collect your key.”
They completed moving in and then Ellie took her daughter on a guided tour of the college. As they visited each location, she regaled Callie with stories of various hilarious events until they arrived at the main refectory where various societies and clubs were touting for new members. It was now early evening and Callie didn't have much time after sorting out her lecture timetable so she made straight for the LGBT society's stall only to find a queue. She so wanted to introduce herself but the society was closing down until the morrow and her mother, Ellie reminded her that she had to confirm her booking at the hotel.

“You've got the whole of Fresher's week to join the LGBT society so I'll pick you up at about seven and we can have dinner, then I suggest you meet with your sisters; I presume you've already determined where they are meeting. Fresher's week is usually an exciting but stressful time for first year students.”

Callie grinned and they parted company. When she was returning to her room she was accosted by a group of students who wasted no time in trying to 'pick her up'. She recognised them as a typical group of predatory final-year students looking for 'fresh meat'.

“Not tonight boys, I've got a lot of unpacking to do.”

“Tomorrow night then babe's?”

“Can't say yet boys. I'll have to see what the night brings.”

“Oh. So you're going out then. May we ask where?”

“To dinner with my mummy.”

The word 'mummy' sent a clear message to the group and they moved on for easier pickings.

'Nothing changes,' Callie told herself as she flopped on the bed exhausted.

Her mobile phone awoke her as dusk was beginning to fall.

“Hello Mummy. No I fell asleep. Will you give me an extra hour to get ready?”

“No problem darling, Jacky's decided to join us so I can reminisce with her until you get here. Don't make too much fuss about clothing. Jacky's in jeans and casual embroidered top while I'm in a casual skirt and ruffle blouse.”
“So jeans and tee-shirt-?” Callie probed.

“Jeans are okay but perhaps that lovely cream blouse with the 'cavalier' sleeves.”

Ellie's suggestion saved Callie from having to decide and she was soon ready. She grinned as she checked the mirror, 'her mother certainly had an eye for fashion.' she thought.

Next she chose a pair of two inch sandals and slung her shoulder bag over shoulder before exiting her room. At the end of the corridor, the ancient stairs curved around to the courtyard and she felt a thrill of anticipation of spending her first night in uni while her sandals clicked loudly on the old stone slabs. As she trotted eagerly down the worn stone steps she encountered a group of students gathered below her in the hallway by the main door. The group of heads turned as one and Callie cursed inwardly as her view of hair and crowns changed to one of upturned faces. Their gazes followed her descent until one face grinned appreciatively.

“Hello darling what room are you living in?”

Callie smiled deceptively in an attempt to defuse any potential invasion of her space as she replied courteously but uninformatively.

“The one overlooking the quad.”

For a moment the sarcasm in her reply escaped them as they continued to stare expectantly until the first questioner slowly realised she had told him nothing. When it dawned on him as Callie was already near the door. He squawked plaintively.

“Hold on love, all of them overlook the quad.”

Callie glanced over her shoulder knowing that the provocative view of her curvy bum, modest heels and the curve of her twisted neck would cause another stir, then she replied with one word whilst smiling as sweetly as she could.

“Duuuh!”

With that she stepped out into the old stone cloisters and stalked boldly out of the college. She didn't even look back for long experience had told that the briefest glance would have been taken as some sort of invitation.

A short walk brought her to the restaurant where they had agreed to meet and she she was led to her mother's table. She felt her mother's eyes appraising her affectionately as she followed the maitre-de to the table.
“Hi mum hi aunty Jacky.”
She took her seat after swapping brief hugs and their meal proved enjoyable. The walk home also proved uneventful and she finally flung herself on her bed and smiled to herself. 'Her first day at coll' had been uneventful,' she concluded and such was the jist of her text message to Maggie who was also enjoying her first night at Oxford. They chatted and giggled until well past midnight.

“Happy freshers' week darling,” Maggie finally offered.

“Same to you babes, love you lots. Tsch, tsch.” Callie replied.

Sleep overtook her within minutes of closing her mobile.

Heir to a title. Chapter 28.

Dawn found Callie savouring a welcome shower before preparing for the start proper of 'Fresher's week.' Freshers is the first week of Michaelmas and there is little or no academic work for first year students. It is mostly devoted to administration, registration, orientation, arbitration and detoxification.

After a light breakfast, her first port of call was to the student union building where the various clubs and societies had laid out their stores to attract new members. She went directly to the LGBT stall and started browsing through their literature. Almost immediately a girl approached her.

“Hello, my name's Sam, are you LGBT?”

Callie nodded and smiled as she decided to play a little game. The girl smiled back and asked if she wanted to join.

Callie continued smiling as the girl produced a form and asked her to fill it. As Callie took the clipboard the girl asked politely.

“Which branch are you , 'L or B'; Lesbian or Bi?”

Callie looked up and grinned disarmingly.

“Actually, I'm 'Tee', the one that usually gets overlooked”

Sam's smile fell for a second as face clouded with apology.

“Oh I'm sorry. That was remiss of me, but you know you're as welcome as anybody else.”

Callie smiled and extended her hand to show she was not offended..

The girl visibly relaxed as she resumed gaping disbelievingly.

“Thanks for being so generous about it, I'm truly sorry. It was bad of me to make such a blunder.”

“No harm done.” Callie replied graciously. “There's not a lot of us about.”

“With relief softening her returning smile Sam returned to her welcoming format.”.

“Seriously? You're 'Tee'?”

Callie nodded affirmation and repeated her declaration. “Yes, seriously; 'M-to-F', pre-op.”

“Oh my God, girl are you going to cause a stir!” She turned and called to another LGBT member who was sorting some leaflets behind a screen.

“Billie, one for you darling!”

A tall, pretty girl stepped from behind the stall and extended her hand. Callie noticed the slender hips but little else betrayed Billie. Callie smiled and instead of reaching out to shake hands, she extended both hands and drew Billie into a hug. Billie responded easily and the pair embraced for several seconds before continuing introductions.

When they separated, Callie completed the form then fell to chatting at length with Billie who was already busy on her mobile and advising the other members of the 'tee' branch of the LGBT society that they had an amazing new member. Ten minutes later another senior and a middle year student had gathered and were chatting eagerly with Callie.

“Not many of us compared to the lesbians, gays and bi's are there?” Callie sighed.

One of the seniors nodded wistfully. “We reckon it's because tee-people have that extra socio-medical hurdle to clear during their school years and it's too much of an emotional burden. That, coupled with all the academic pressures to get to Oxbridge sets many tee-girls back academically.”

“That makes sense'” Callie agreed as she recollected her own, very recent, school days. In addition to the usual problems associated with any attempts to transition before eighteen,she also recalled the additional stresses of the legal assault course surrounding the retention of her title. However, she did not mention this. Having a title, especially that of a 'full-blown' dukedom, could often turn people against you.

Eventually, after the introductions were shared over a cup of tea and a biscuit, arrangements were discussed about the following evening and the first societal meeting. Having ascertained dates and times, Callie made her excuses and continued browsing the other clubs' stalls. She had been more than eager to join the transgendered society but there were other fish to fry.

She next found the historical preservation society which, though primarily interested in old buildings and architecture, was also interested in old cars. On learning that Callie was unique in owning a steam locomotive and it being one of the most useful and favourite steam locomotives on the local steam preservation railway, they were delighted to sign her up. Again Callie did not mention her title nor her ownership of Denton Hall, itself a grade one listed building.

A brief visit to the rowing club stall only reinforced her concerns about the complications associated with transgender women and sport. Reluctantly Callie turned away from membership for there were plenty of other sporting activities she could indulge in. Jogging for example, did not require attendance at any specialist venue nor, more importantly, did it require changing rooms and possible accidental exposure of her still present masculinity. Preparations, changing and showering were done from home whilst the activity was often conducted alone.

Finally, Callie joined the nature society whilst still hoping to keep her ownership of the Denton estate and the vast moor with it's SSI status a secret. It was not to be however, for one of the members recognised her from the campaigns surrounding the quarrying. Fortunately, the member approached Callie quietly and the girl agreed to be discreet. Callie had, after all, been instrumental in reducing the impact of the quarry and curtailing its invasion of the main area of outstanding beauty, mainly by allowing for the extraction on the lower slope of her own moorland and the reinstatement of the mineral railway across her land instead of the wider, noisier, truck infested, dusty road.

With the society memberships sorted, Callie was quietly relieved that her ducal title had remained a secret and she decided to take a mooch around her college before preparing for her first visit to the gay venue where the LGBT society were meeting informally each night of 'Fresher's week'. This first night, not being the official meeting she had no intentions of 'dressing to kill' and chose simply a modest figure hugging dress that came to just above the knee and a comfortable pair of heels that matched her clutch-bag. She enjoyed the night for it was good to be treated as a normal individual and not be considered 'public property'. Midnight found her a'bed and chatting on her mobile to her fiancée Maggie who was experiencing much the same situation in Oxford.

When she prepared to go to the local LGBT general meeting for that second night, she decided to dress down. Simply a pair of black leggings that accentuated her slender, shapely legs, no tights, a pair of kitten-heeled sandals and a tight fitting tee-shirt that failed to hide the outline of her bra and breasts. The outfit was designed to accentuate her feminine shape for she knew she could easily pass as a 'lipstick-lesbian'.

Heads turned as she entered the bar area for unusually, it was well lit. The only sounds were those of conversation which dropped to a hushed murmur as she stepped intrepidly through the door alone. One of the other Tee-people recognised her and immediately got up from their table to welcome her.

“Hi again Callie, what d' you want to drink?”

“Lemonade and lime please, no ice.”

The older girl went to buy the round while Callie was invited to sit. There were several other girls that Callie learned were not students but residents of the city and surrounding country. The club catered for all LGBT members locally and during Freshers week it was well attended as many new students savoured their first real opportunities to explore their sexualities and gender needs. At seven o'clock precisely the club president called the meeting to order and for the next hour, various club officers explained how the club was organised and what agendas the club pursued.

Finally, new club members were invited to introduce themselves if they wished. On the written agenda that each new member had been given on entry, Callie was pleased to learn that three other tee-people had also entered the university that year.

“That doubles the academic membership of our branch!” Callie chuckled quietly to herself as she sat waiting for her turn to present herself if she wished.

Whilst waiting she casually scanned the members and was extremely pleased to see an old familiar face from her school days at Eton; Michael, her gay friend and just about the only genuinely close friend throughout her days there. After any new lesbians had introduced themselves, the gays were invited to do so and Callie was hugely pleased to see Michael boldly join the queue that had gathered by the presidents table on the low stage that provided for entertainment in the pub when it was used for other venues.

When Michael stood to speak Callie could not resist giving a little wave and when her action caught his eye from the the raised stage he smiled broadly and gave a little wave back before declaring himself.

“My name is Michael and I am a first-year physics student. Today I am coming out and I am immensely pleased to meet an old school friend in the audience.”

He continued for the allotted two minutes then left the stage to join Callie who had moved seats to the end of her row. When they met they hugged each other tightly as the rest of the assembled members looked on approvingly. He then sat beside her as they waited for the 'tee-people' to introduce themselves.

As Callie rose to join the short tee-people queue Michael squeezed her hand.

“Be brave girl,” he whispered.

Callie smiled and returned the hand squeeze before stepping up to introduce herself.

“Hello everybody. My name is Callie Denton, I'm reading maths and I've been 'out' since I was thirteen, though my family were pretty much aware of my transgenderism since I was very young.”

There was a slight murmur of interest which did not surprise Callie. Many gay men still misinterpreted transgenderism and presumed that transexuals were also homosexual. Callie was philosophical as she sensed the interest and she reassured herself that such men would soon learn through the society that transgendered people were every bit as varied in their tastes and sexualities as all other segments of the population. She spoke briefly about herself for a few more seconds then returned to her seat.

As she sat, a gay male student in the row behind her leaned over and asked her 'if she still had her male bits'. Callie pursed her lips angrily but Billie had already risen to berate the intruder for such a rude and invasive question.

“What's it to you?” Billy demanded loudly enough for the whole meeting to notice.

Heads turned as the other student sank back into his seat and cringed with embarrassment while Callie stood up to explain. All eyes followed as she became more visible and addressed the whole meeting from the floor.

“Well it seems that, even amongst what I would reasonably have a right to presume are the more intelligent members of the human race, some of us here still appear to think that transgendered people are public property without any rights to privacy. I would like to correct that misapprehension here and now! I thought I had done quite enough just now to explain who I was and what I am. All other details about my life and person are as private as anybody else's. I am NOT public property and my personal circumstances are strictly between me and my closest intimate friends. That's all I have to say about myself whilst for everybody else's benefit, I might suggest that this club organises a debate to explore LGBT rights to privacy whilst educating those who, it seems, need educating. It would do no harm to place the subject on the agender for the Cambridge Union debates so the issue might enjoy a wider exploration and debate.”

Having finished, she turned and smiled at the president's table and thanked them for indulging her and allowing her to speak without invitation or prior notice to the committee.

As she sat again, there followed a thunderous crash of applause as hands started clapping and suddenly, Callie became a little self conscious. She had risen in something of a fit of pique and now she felt a bit stupid.
She turned to the student who had sparked off the incident and started to apologise for embarrassing him but an older wiser head simply rested a hand on her shoulder and spoke softly.

“You've no need to apologise young lady, it needed to be said and you did well. Might I suggest at some later date you join the union debating society.”

Callie remained silent for she still felt a bit stupid at attracting so much attention so early in her university career.

'So much for going stealth!' She silently scolded herself.

There followed a brief question and answer session then the meeting dissolved it's formal procedure and the members mingled amongst each other. Callie mingled mostly with Michael and the tee girls though several lesbians made a point crossing the floor to introduce themselves. Callie sighed with some small dissappointment that despite her brief speech, some lesbians still seemed to presume she would naturally be attracted to other 'lipstick lesbians'. Fortunately, she managed to hide her irritation whilst gently intimating that she had no interest in any lesbian relationships. In her own mind, she saw her releationship with Maggie as an essentially platonic affair despite its intensity and durability.

For the second night she collapsed on her bed and chatted briefly to Maggie before falling into a deep slumber.

Another Chapter in Callie's progress through university. An interesting research offer is put before her but causes internal conflicts.

Heir to a title 29.

During the Michelmas term Callie started as she mean't to go on by dutifully completing all her assignments well before their 'hand-in' dates. Consequently her punctuality and grades started to attract the attentions of her tutors and the departmental head. Few students handed in their work as often as a week or even a month before the deadline.

Callie thought little of this until after her attendance at one of the rare lectures the professor gave to the first-years. After she left the lecture theatre in her usual anonymous insularity, Callie was accosted in the corridor just as she was about to enter the junior refectory for lunch.

“Miss Callie Denton I presume?” The proffessor offered as he extended his hand.

Callie nodded then paused before cautiously offering hers. Based upon stories about 'sex-for-grades' scandals, Callie had reservations about familiarity with senior academics. The professor smiled somewhat patronisingly.

“I don't bite young lady.”

Like most attractive young women, Callie still kept up her metaphorical guard but allowed her hand to meet with his outstretched palm. He grasped it gently and shook it only briefly thus obviating his desire not to cause offence by lingering too long with his grip. He also noticed how the girl visibly relaxed once the handshake was completed.

“Are you nervous young lady; there's no need to be here just outside the refectory?”

She allowed a brief fleeting smile to cross her countenance before replying.

“Just cautious sir, first year students don't usually get singled out by their proffessors. What's this about?” She pressed as caution returned.

“Don't look so worried young lady, it's just your grades.”

“Oh.” Callie replied. “What about them?”

“You believe you have to ask!” The professor appeared nonplussed.

“Well yes sir. To tell the truth, once the project is handed in, I don't much check the grades. I just assume if my 'back-checks' determine my answers are correct
and fit the original question with sufficient accuracy then that's sufficient.

It was the professor's turn to raise his eyebrows in mild surprise.

“What, are you telling me you haven't looked at them?”

She hesitated.

“Well; not really sir. My Tutor hasn't called me in to discuss anything so I presumed everything was okay; you know, steady as she goes and all that.”

“Do you ever discuss your work with your classmates?”

Callie paused. Being somewhat obsessive about maths she had often been accused of being a bit geekish by her contemporaries at school, consequently she kept her academic work much to herself. Fortunately, Cambridge had offered her many other opportunities to indulge her varied extra-curricular activities so her insular responces to her course-work had – as she thought of it – gone un-noticed. Students grades were not posted on the board so other students would not have learned of her remarkable achievements.

Indeed she had simply assumed her grades had satisfied her mentors and that was that. As she had already said,- 'steady as she goes,'

“Are your seriously telling my you don't keep a check of your grades?” The proffessor frowned.

He wasn't sure if the remakable young lady before him was arrogant, naïve or duplitious. Callie became uncertain.

“Well I scan them briefly when I get my work back and if the grades are okay then I simply file them away.”

The professor repeated her answer slowly'

“You scan them to see if the grades are okay, you say.

“Well, yes, is there something wrong?”

“You do realise you've made 'A's' on every paper this term.”

Callie nodded before replying.

“Is that unusual? I thought all the students would be getting those sorts of grades, this being Cambridge. They're not remarkable sir are they. I mean this is Cambridge so I thought all the students would be getting 'A's'.”

The professor snorted before giving a brief chuckle.

“Really Ms Denton, that's a bit naïve, you must realise we have to maintain very high standards at Cambridge. That being so, both I and all the other tutors are very hard markers and we demand high standards. Very few of my students get 'A's' and almost nobody keeps getting repeated 'A's'. As you say, this is Cambridge.”

“So where is this leading sir?”

“Well;” he paused, “young lady, I'm sure you know about the team of 'problem solvers' we have at Cambridge. You know the ones who compile the many algorithms and such like for for shakers and movers within the computer industry and other scientific research.”

“I've heard of them sir but I thought they'd be working for commercial interests and such like. Algorithms seem to be composed and tested mostly by scientific or market researchers and suchlike don't they?”

“Well, there are other fields, behavioural research and such like.”

Callie's brows knitted uncertainly. She thought she might have a faint inkling of what the professor was ascribing to but she was not prepared to somehow indict herself. She played dumb.

“Where's this leading sir?”

“I'd prefer to discuss this in a less public location.”

Callie was now intrigued and suspicious. If whatever the professor was alluding to had something to do with miltary intelligence or something, then why had the professor approached her in a very public space. She decided to be quite bold and somewhat confrontational but she spoke softly.

“Then why did you broach it in such a public space as the refectory doorway?”

The professor hesitated briefly then replied disarmingly.

“Frankly Miss Denton, I had not considered that aspect – but you're correct and therefore right to ask. Can I meet you this afternoon?”

“We-ell. It's Wednesday and I was going cycling then shopping with some friends but if you insist, I suppose I can't refuse. I'm not commiting myself to anything though.”

“That's good enough for me, shall we say three o'clock in my office.”

Callie shrugged her shoulders and nodded.

Thus having launched his attempt to co-opt Callie onto the project he was involved in, the professor smiled and left for the senior common room. Callie continued into the refectory and sat thoughtfully eating her food.

'Wonder what this about?' She asked herself.

She was still deep in thought when Mickey plonked himself beside her and she started with surprise.

“Oh!” She squeaked as her soup spilled off her spoon.

Mickey grinned. “Helo-oo, Earth to Callie.”

“You starled me.” She frowned as she took her napkin to wipe up the spilt soup.

“Sorry; but I was standing over you for a few seconds and you didn't seem to have noticed me.”

“You only had to say hello or something.”

“I did,” Michael grinned again, “you still didn't respond. Welcome back to our planet.”

“So what is it you want?”

“Nothing; I just came to join you for lunch and you were away with the fairies – or rather the numbers. Is it difficult? The word is, nothing beats your pretty little brain when it comes to solving the professor's hypothesis and theorems, so if it's a maths problem your cogitating on, it must be pretty hot stuff.”

Callie grinned for she knew Mickey of old.

“Oy! Less of the 'pretty-little-brain' stuff you mysoginistic queer! Anyway, it's not maths; it's other stuff. The proff just left me with a tricky decision.”

“Like what?” Mickey grinned, ignoring her justifiable riposte to his 'pretty little brain' remark.

“I dunno exactly.” Ellie replied. It's summat to do with commercial research I think. He's thinking of offering me a place on some team or other to compose or compile some sort of research algorithms.”

“Mickey's jaw dropped enviously.”

Bloody hell Cal, if it's research then that means extra dosh. I'd go for it if I were you.”

Callie pursed her lips doubtfully.

“I want to know more before I plunge in. There's stuff I don't hold with, like some types of military research and what-have-you. Especially if it invades people's privacy. Besides, I'm pretty okay for cash what with the dukedom and stuff.”

Behind her back on the next table, Callie didn't notice a classmate's ears prick up at the mention of a dukedom and although Mickey was facing towards the guy, Mickey didn't know him because Mickey did not attend Callie's lectures except for some early applied maths lectures that he needed to sort out some physics project. Occasionally he asked Callie to check his maths or solve an equation because that what's mathematicians usually did and Naturally, Callie was more than pleased to help her longtime friend. The evesdropper was now sitting upright as he tried to listen in as Callie continued.

“It's not as though I'm starving now that Nan and I have got the estate back into the black and the quarrying income does help. Denton's doing well.”

Behind her the evesdropper smirked as he put two and two together. The whole academic year knew that there was reputed to be a duke attending their college that year and there had been much speculation as to his identity. Outside of the LGBT society few people knew that Callie was transgendered so the spotlight of curiosity had not landed on her. Most people still presumed dukes to be male and indeed every other British duke was. It would take at least one or even two generations before the new laws on gender-equal, primo-geniture succession filtered down.

Mickey and Callie discussed the physics problem that Mickey had come with and she helped compile a mathematical solution. Having put the academic problem to bed the pair then chatted until three oclock approached and Callie made her excuses.

“I'd better see what he wants.”

“See you later then babes, are you going to the LGBT meeting tonight?”

“Probably, unless the proff's stuff interferes.”

The pair parted as Mickey made his way to the laboratories. Unlike Callie, Mickey was something of a science geek and Wednesday afternoons were not for socialising or sport. It gave him extra time to utilise the laboratories. They met again that evening at the LGBT Society.

As she arrived outside the professor's study Callie's mind raced though dozen different scenarios before she composed herself and knocked softly.

“Come in.”

He stood sourteously and extended his hand as she approached the desk.

“I'm glad you've come. Are you still interested?”

“Interested sir but not yet commited.”

“To anything or just certain things?”

Callie paused as she picked her words carefully.

“Certain things sir, a lot of things.”

“Such as?”

“Well; human rights for starters. You may not know my background.”

“What about it?” The professor's brows knitted.

Callie pursed her lips. The professor, like nearly all heterosexual males, knew little about transgender issues as they specifically affected each transgendered person. Callie decided to do a bit of enlightening.

“Human rights are a huge issue for such as me and my transgendered friends sir. They transpose directly into transgendered rights and I, like all my tee-friends, guard them jealously.God knows, those rights are few enough.”

“Go on,” the proffessor prompted her.

“Just consider the history sir. Just look around you. Consider all the recent fuss and all the prejudiced bigotry thats being put out by dozens of different sources. Don't forget, we are the very last minority to have 'come out'. We only recently gained the full protection of the law and even that is only in few countries, and even then it's not always enforced. I hold those few protections dear for even now some are trying to destroy what few gains we've made. There are plenty who would destroy them.

Any attack on our transgender rights or the legal protection that support them will meet with my utmost resistance; and that includes any attacks by foreign agenceis as well as home-grown ones.”

A slow smile spread across the professor's face as he steepled his fingers. Callie paused curiously.

“Then I can offer you the opportunity to become a 'main-player' in your determination to address transphobia.”

It was Callie's turn to wonder.

“How?”

The professor hesitated as he picked his words.

“The university has won a major contract with a very important institution.”

“Are we talking Cheltenham and MI6?” Callie whispered softly.

The professor's irritation was clear.

“Dammit girl! You're sharp.”

Callie pulled a wry smile before replying. “Duhh! It's hardly rocket science, a seemingly innocent approach in full public view followed by 'cloake and dagger' stuff in your inner sanctum. So what's it all about?”

The professor hesitated again as he contemplated his approach. Finally he spoke.

“There's a new project being developed in Cheltenham. That's all I can say at present except to say it will involve a lot of maths.”

“There are plenty of mathematicians out there,” Callie countered.

“Indeed there are young lady, but very few with your level of numeritive intuition and practicality.”

“Meaning.”

The professor frowned uncertainly again as he wondered how to broach Callie's transgenderism.

“Well, – young lady. You have additional skills, additional insights enabled by your extraordinary circumstances.”

Callie's demeanour tensed as she immediately grasped what the professor was alluding to. She took the bull by the horns.

“You mean my transgenderism?”

The professor visibly relaxed once the issue had been revealed. As his shoulders sagged with no little relief, he expostulated. “Yess!”

“It was Callie's turn to be puzzled as she put words to the thoughts now running through her head.”

“Military intelligence, behavioural factors, algorithms, transgenderism – go on professor, you've got me intrigued and somewhat concerned. Will all this somehow affect my tee-sisters; and tee-brothers adversely?”

“Well – noo; not directly Miss Denton. If the programme we are trying to put together can help us hold our own in the cyber-warfare field, it might even help your collegues who are oppressed in foreign parts.”

“How quaintly put professor. Who are these 'sore-oppressed-peoples?'

“Well; in truth Miss Denton, just about any society where human rights are abused but to be honest, we'd be concentrating on countries deemed to be threatening the UK.”

“Your honesty is to be applauded professor, so that'll be Russia, China and Islam.”

“Islam is not a country.”

“Huh. That's disingenous professor. Islam threatens me and my sisters almost every day.”

“What! On Campus?”

“No. It's mostly in my head, you know, inherent an incipient prejudice in places like the debating chamber and occasionally physically on the street. So far never physically on Campus though I've been verbally abused in the debating chamber.”

“Do you deem Islam to be a threat to Britain then?”

Callie sighed.

“It's a threat to me because I'm transgendered, and as for my gay friends well you've seen the survey results. Truly, I consider Islam to be a threat to me and mine but I don't usually broadcast my private feelings. Political correctness proscribes that; however you just scratched an itch. Was it intentional.”

Callie silently berated herself for revealing her innermost feelings. She continued regretfully.

“There, I've already said too much. So what's all this about human rights?”

The professor smiled inwardly for hef felt he might have found a way to persuade the girl genius to provide her valuable skills. Ignoring Callie's seemingly Islamophobic revelation he pressed on with his offer.

“Basically, it's all to do with cyber-warfare and constantly updating our armouries.”

“So you want my mathematical skills to - “

“Stay ahead of the game,” the professor finished her sentence.

“Will my input lead to any human rights abuses, you know, supporting corrupt regimes, illegal imprisonment, torture, religious bigotry, murdering my brothers and sisters, and so on?”

“Yes.”

The professors candour unsettled her momentarily. Caught somewhat 'on-the-back-foot', Callie wondered what his agender compiled. Caution bells rang in her brain as she tried to discerne his stratergy. Cautiously she replied.

“That reply does not reassure me overtly. I know there's a twist here but you've caught me cold. You know what you're after while I'm beginning to feel like a fish investigating the bait.”

“I'm being realistic Miss Denton. I would be a liar if I said that everything in the garden was rosy. Cybernetics is a dirty war – and getting dirtier.”

“I know about reality professor,” Callie replied softly. “As a tee-girl, I need hardly say more. To untwist your answer I'l rephrase my question.

Will my input increase those abuses? - Worldwide that is.”

“Hopefully not, but I cannot say so with certainty.”

“Well at least you're being honest,” Callie conceded. “Tell me what sort of topics and scenarios are we considering.”

“Behavioural probabilities, predicting them mainly and honing their accuracies; identifying and quantifying the factors that would be entered into the predictive algorithms.”

Callie sucked through pursed lips.

“That's a huge field. My first thoughts are already contraindicating your main hypothesis. It would be easier to ascertain bahavioural improbabilities and the maths of 'improbability' is poorly studied. In any event it's not a 'mirrored negative' to the probability theory.”

The professors eyes narrowed.

“Has this girl already been playing with numbers on her own?” He wondered.

“How would you know that?” He asked bluntly.

“I don't; at least not with any certainty. There are too many behavioural variables for me to identify with any confidence. That would need behavioural psychiatrists, xeno-psychiatrist and therapists before I could even begin to quantify the stuff and then run some numbers. It would take months if not years to compile an accurate functional algorithm.

Partial iterations and full iterations could take months to 'fine-line'. Just compiling the basic equations is an exercise in improbability not to mention probability.”

The professor stared silently as he absorbed Callie's words.

“Have you been studying this stuff in your spare time?”

Like most mathematicians, Callie often composed problems in her head then tried to find solutions. It just so happened that Callie often wondered why monotheist people hated transgendered people so much and she had dabbled with numbers whilst idly trying to analyse the social equations. She had not had much success. Asking random samples of people about their thoughts on gender was a sure way to attract unwanted attention.

'How does one qualify and quantify emotions sociologically?' She often wondered. ' What value does culture have in the algoritm – or religion? She had processed such ideas in her head many many times' but her answers had invariably thrown up more prblems than they solved. It was all a matter of information – information – information.'

Had the professor but known it, he had struck unexpected gold by inviting Callie to join his research but such was Callie's tight-lipped reticence, he had no inkling that the transgendered girl before him was already ahead of the game. She was perhaps one thousandth part of the way along the path whilst the Professor and his colleagues at GCHQ in Cheltenham were perhaps one millionth of a part down that same road.

Behavioural improbability theory was a huge, tortuous field. A functional accurate algorithm comprising all the factors would be years in the compilation.

Heir to a Title 30.

Characters.
Ellie, (Eleanor) The prime Character.
Bill, (William) her father, (obviously) Callie (Callista) Ellie’s only daughter. Initially Callum - a transgendered son.
Charlotte, (Nana) Ellie’s Paternal Grandmother
Sandie, (Sandra) Ellie’s Older Aunt
Rosie, (Rose) Ellie’s Younger Aunt
Henry, Ellie’s boyfriend and husband. (Second son of the Duke of Denton)
Molly, Duchess of Denton. Henry’s mother.
Bev, (Beverly) Ellie’s aunt (Previously Uncle Bernard and brother to her dad.)
Jennifer, (Jennie) Beverly's older adopted daughter.
Beatrice, (Bea) Beverly's younger adopted daughter.

Lucy, Henry’s oldest niece, Callum’s cousin.
Eleanor, Henry’s middle niece Callum’s cousin. Same name as Ellie.
Virginia, Henry’s youngest niece Callum’s cousin
Julie, Ellie’s sister-in-law.
Angela, (Angie) Beverly’s wife (kidnapped by pirates and rescued.)
Megan, Beverly’s only blood daughter by Angela.
Margaret Arnold, (Maggie) Callie's best female friend.
Jane Arnold, Maggie's mother.
James Denton (The Ferrety Denton) Callie's ambitious, uncle.
Michael. Callie's best friend at Eton and Cambridge

That evening Callie joined Michael at the weekly LGBT get-together in anticipation of some pleasant social intercourse. They met outside Michael's residential block and walked a couple of blocks into town until they came to the pub where the meetings were held.

Inside, the society's secretary was handing out hurriedly prepared, typed slips concerning an item that had been suggested as a topic for debate in the union. The secretary had spotted a notice on the large public notice board, copied it down and acted upon it that same afternoon. Michael and Callie took the proffered slips and studied them as they took their seats. After the planned agenda had been discussed and dealt with, the secretary held up the slip.

“Well members, you've seen my copy of the notice that was posted, do you want to discuss it now or next week?”

For several moments the meeting descended into chaos as members fell to discussing the slip amongst themselves. Eventually the meeting was brought to order as the secretary regained control. Her words simply stated the obvious.

“Well, I can see that lots of you are concerned. Now I've finally got some control, I'll go through the membership list and ask each one if they wish to comment.”

So saying, the secretary started calling out names in alphabetical order. With a rider that if a previous member had touched upon any issues affecting other individuals, then those individuals should just confirm their support for that particular issue or the meeting would last all night. Eventually it was Callie's turn and she stood up.

“Callie Denton, Maths first year. Firstly, I agree and support the issues expressed by Andrew and Jenny but there are a further two issues that concerns me. The first is the obvious transgender issue surrounding my condition and the proposed segregated debate and the second is what college organisation is behind this? I don't see any names or identification.”

There was a rumble of approval as Callie sat down. The secretary held up her hand to suppress what seemed like another eruption of discord.

“Firstly it is lecture by a visiting scholar who has requested that the meeting be segregated so that some of the people attending will not be offended.”

“And those people are?!” A voice demanded from the anonymous centre of the room.

“Devout Muslims. apparently. They wish to hear what he has to say about modern conflicts between Koranic law and other cultures then discuss workable solutions to resolve such conflicts where and when they occur. To avoid effrontery he has requested, - requested mind you, - that the meeting be segregated into male and female. He has requested this only to avoid offence to devout Muslims. The lecture or talk, - call it what you will -, has been organised by several of the Islamic societies and it promises to be a lively debate.”

“You can bet your bottom dollar it will!” Came voice from the rear of the hall that Callie recognised as Billie the girl she had met on her first day at the clubs and societies fair..”

“I understand that Billie,” the secretary replied, “can I ask you to get the other tee-people to collectively prepare a list of objections?”

Callie had turned to see Billie standing up to emphasise her displeasure as she spoke.

“Best if we continue with tonight's strategy by going around the room as you are doing to list everybody's objections, once that's done we Tee-members can filter our specific objections and I can circulate the lists on the society's website. I'm more than prepared to head any LGBT campaign; does anybody wish to join me?”

Virtually every tee-person's hand went up and the secretary's head nodded slowly with satisfaction. She knew Billie of old as a hardened campaigner. With the strategy agreed, the secretary continued taking suggestions and objections. She soon had a score of objections and handed the list to Billie as the meeting wound up. Callie joined Billie and the other tee-people as they chose a different pub to further analyse the secretary's list. Before midnight, a concrete plan of action was maturing.

In the last few months a peculiarly unholy alliance had evolved between some extremist feminist societies and fundamentalist Islamic societies in the university especially around the issue of transgenderism. In several debates at the Cambridge debating union, some transphobic issues had unexpectedly popped up 'sub-agendii' and briefly involved some heated contention before the debating chairmen had recovered order in the chamber and returned the debate to pertinence.

These instances had not gone unnoticed by the LGBT., community who were concerned that such emerging levels of intolerance were becoming apparent. This focused on the old 'nature versus nurture' and assorted religious arguments amalgamating with the 'real-women' biological definitions advocated by feminists. If these and other arguments were gathering momentum in such a cerebral environment as Cambridge then they needed to be contested and defeated early before what few advances the LGBT community had won were reverted by default or inaction throughout the campus.

As she made her way home at midnight, Callie had lots of time to think and it was her deep thoughts that blinded her to the unexpected approach by some male ethnic students.

“Hello dear, you're out late.”

Callie looked up in mild surprise as she was dragged from her reverie.

“So are you if it comes to that!” She replied as she reached automatically for her rape alarm.

“D'you want to come to a party?”

“No!”

“Why not? We're students just like you.”

“No you're not, you're boys, I'm a girl. You're nothing like me. If you are then there's summat wrong with you.”

“Where's your boyfriend?”

“Where's yours?”

“There's no need to take that attitude.”

“I'm not taking any attitude. You said you were just like me so that makes you a girl and I'm only wondering where your boyfriend is.”

“You're a nasty bitch aren't you?” The talkative one retaliated as he moved forward menacingly. “Who the fuck do you think you are?”

Like all women, Callie was already fully alert to unwanted attention and she prepared to activate her alarm. Cautiously she brought her hand up to her face so that the alarm was at head level. If she had to use it, she could reach out and direct the alarm directly into his face. At that proximity, the screech of the alarm was almost painfully disabling especially when pointed directly at the assailants face or close to one of his ears. He advanced to push his face directly into Callie's face in typical gesture of dominance and threat. Callie took a small step back for the benefit of the street cameras to demonstrate that she had not made any aggressive move then let him have it by extending her arm and activating the alarm.

The screech actually hurt Callie's ears and she was expecting it, so it must have been excruciating for him. He staggered back in shock and bellowed with surprise as he pressed his hands against his ears. The sudden distraction also distracted the other boys and Callie quickly produced her back-up plan, a can of Mace. A brief squirt in the abusive one's face reinforced the fact that 'the lady was not 'up-for-it'.'

“Aargh! You fucking bitch!”

“I might be a bitch but I'm not up for a fucking! So fuck off!” She cursed whilst still holding up the Mace spray.

“I can't see!”

“Get your toadies to guide you to casualty.. And by the way that's indelible dye all over your face. So the authorities will be looking for you in the morning. Good fucking luck!”

So saying, Callie backed down the pavement even as lights were appearing in various hostel windows and female voices were calling down.

“Is everything okay down there.”

“It is now!” Callie shouted loudly. “The bastard tried to assault me and I maced him.”

The ensuing commotion left the male abusers stunned by developments. In their own country the assaulted woman would have been charged with prostitution for being out alone at so late an hour. Here, in Cambridge, the tables were completely reversed. They wanted to run but their blinded compatriot totally hampered their attempt to escape the scene. By the time Callie had reached the sanctuary of her hall of residence, a police car had accosted her abusers in the street. One of the female students in the same hall of residence had called them immediately after becoming aware of the disturbance.

Inside the hall, the alarm raiser met Callie at the bottom of the stairs.

“What happened?”

Callie described events and the other girl nodded with satisfaction.

“I didn't know you could get one with dye as well.”

Callie smiled and produced the can. It had hardly been used. The girl weighed it thoughtfully and noted the country of origin.

“Is this legal?”

“Dun'no,” Callie shrugged, “it's effective.”

Suddenly there was a knock on the heavy hall door and two police officers appeared. Callie turned to face them as the other girl stood beside her to provide moral support.

“Is that the can Miss?”

Callie nodded and passed it to the officer's outstretched hand. He examined it whilst his female companion spoke to Callie.

“Is there somewhere we can talk.?”

“My room,” Callie indicated up the stairs with a nod of her head.

As they approached the stairs Callie turned to the girl who had raised the alarm.

“Would you like to accompany me up to my room?”

“Am I allowed to?”

“I haven't been arrested, I don't see why not.”

The girl turned inquisitively to the police who shrugged acquiescence, Callie was not under arrest. All four went into Callie's study bed-room.

The upshot was that the police confiscated Callie's can of mace as evidence and also for the doctors in casualty to run checks on the chemicals. A phone-call to casualty had ascertained that the assailant's eyes were badly traumatised.

Two days later, on the Sunday morning, Callie received another pair of callers.

“You'll be interested to know young lady, that we've arrested your assailant.”

“Good! The bastard deserves it.”

“It's not just for the abuse he hurled at you. His DNA matches that of an assailant who has committed two other rapes in London; one of them involved a brutal beating. The 'Met' want him, or at least they want to interview him.”

Callie nodded with tight-lipped satisfaction.

“So you'll not be arresting me then?”

“Well no; but that can of spray you used, where did you get it?”

“On-line.”

“Which country?”

“Who knows? You know what the Internet's like.”

She reached to her laptop keyboard and tapped in an address Immediately the supplier's website appeared.

“There, that's it.”

The officer noted the website address on his phone before continuing.

“Have you got any more of those cans?”

“Yes, are they proscribed by law?” She asked.

“Not specifically but they might be considered to be dangerous weapons. We would advise you not to carry them around in public.”

“So how can I protect myself?”

Her question struck to the core of the issue and the police knew it. How could a woman protect herself when alone and confronted by uninvited, aggressive attention?

“Well you should avoid going out alone at night.”

Callie twisted her mouth with a caustic glare.

“Why, are the streets dangerous?”

“You know they are.”

“So why don't the police patrol them more intensively?”

“You know that as well, not enough resources.”

“Of course I do, so I am compelled to take reasonable steps to protect myself.”

“This argument could go on all day young lady, I am cautioning you not to carry that brand of mace around with you. Find out what is definitely legal and if you feel forced to carry a can, buy that.”

Callie gave a smile of apparent 'sweetness-and-light'. It didn't fool the police officer but he left it at that. His silence made Callie wonder if secretly he was sympathetic because her actions had led to the arrest of a serial rapist. She asked further about her attacker.

“I know he's an ethnic and he isn't black, so where's he from?”

The officer didn't answer her question and Callie sensed that there was a political angle to the case. She didn't press for an answer as the officer explained further.

“You'll be required to attend his trial as a witness and you'll probably find out then. Fortunately we've got a short bit of surveillance camera footage showing him and his friends turning into the same street as you. That white reflective jacket of yours was an excellent identity garment. But we didn't get the actual incident.”

“That's a pity. If he is found guilty of rape for the London attacks though, he'll be bound for prison I take it?”

“Hopefully, yes but there are complications.”

“You don't sound very confident.”

The officer's reluctance to explain further gave Callie pause for thought.

'There was definitely a political angle,' she concluded so she let the matter lie.

As the officer left with Callie's confiscated box of sprays she could distinctly sense his despondency. She felt sure there was some sort of political angle affecting the case. Having reached this conclusion she decided she would have to fight fire with fire A brief Email to her professor confirmed her agreement to assist the Cheltenham crew. Access to government information might help her her case.

The following Tuesday, by prearrangement on the Monday, she found herself invited into the professor's office to meet a representative of Her Majesty's Intelligence Forces. After introductions were made, he produced a sheet of mathematical problems.

“Would you be prepared to solve these problems and if possible create a functional algorithm that would simplify the functionality of the common denominator in all the problems.”

Callie extended her hand and started to study the paper.

“Am allowed a calculator?”

“Of course.”

She took her scientific calculator from her back-pack and set to work. Within two hours and after several mugs of coffee the produced her answers and several different but equally functional algorithms pertaining to the two most obvious common denominators. She munched on some biscuits while the professor and the government man checked her answers. Finally after a brief discussion with the professor the government man stared hard at Callie.

“You're a remarkable young lady. These problems have been exercising my departmental staff for a week.”

Callie swallowed her half-chewed biscuit and took a sip of tea before replying.

“So have I passed your exam?”

“With flying colours Miss Denton. So are you still prepared to join our team?”

“Provided I can still attend Cambridge and finish my degree. Oh; and I still have reservations about personal privacy. I'm sure you'll understand how difficult it is for transgendered people. Privacy is paramount especially during the difficult years like puberty and / or realisation about ourselves and that usually comes sometime during childhood. If my work entails invasions of privacy of innocent people then I reserve the right to withdraw my support. I'd like my identity to remain as secret as possible.”

“That's no problem. You'll be provided with a secure none electronic connection to Cheltenham and all your problems will be mathematical. We'll send the questions via the professor's computer, you'll be expected to physically transfer them to a 'stand-alone' computer that you will buy but we will pay for.
Buy yourself the best so that you can be certain we are not abusing your privacy. If; or perhaps I should say, when you find solutions; you may once again pass them physically on an encrypted disc to the Professor who will then contact us. I will collect them personally from him. There will be no obvious connection between you and GCHQ and certainly no traceable electronic record. Would you be happy with that?”

“Will I be able to employ GCHQ's computing power if my own 'puter' proves inadequate? I'm sure I can create sufficiently sophisticated encryption programmes to protect my work.”

“Of course, but you'll have to sign the Official secrets act.”

Callie nodded, she had fully expected to.

“Of course,” she mimicked him as he passed the paperwork across the desk.

With the ground rules laid, he invited her and the professor out to dinner at his hotel. There he was surprised to learn that Callie didn't drink.

“So you don't drink at all?” He double-checked.

“Well. I'll take a brandy on Christmas day, it complements the Christmas pudding, but otherwise I'm as sober as the day is long.”

“Well that's not a bad thing in our business. Clear heads are always de-rigour.”

Callie nodded thoughtfully as she savoured her excellent salmon. When they left in the same taxi Callie was pleased that the professor behaved perfectly. They chatted cryptically about the work so the Taxi driver would not understand anything and Callie was dropped right outside the halls of residence.

“See you in the week Miss Denton, I won't be lecturing the first years again this term.”
Night Professor. I'll chase up a new computer during the Saturday unless the college can point me in the right direction.

She stood watching as the professor's taxi left the quadrangle then she went inside. In her pigeon-hole she found a sheaf of notes from Billie and a letter from her mum. She read the letter immediately.

Dear Callie,

Please find enclosed copies of your completed entitlement letters and also a copy of the deeds to Denton. The originals to both documents are kept with our lawyers and also at Somerset House You knew it would be a long time sorting out the estate especially after the condition it was left to you. We have your dear great aunt Beverly to thank for much of the leg-work and drudgery whilst you addressed the estate's profitability. I will be inviting her here for Christmas by way of saying thank you. I hope you will be coming home for Christmas, Maggie has told her mum she will be home so I don't think I'm being presumptious in concluding you will be here as well.

Otherwise there's not much else to tell. Call me if you've got anything to tell me and please confirm if you're coming home for Christmas.

The following morning at first light, Callie phoned home to confirm the Christmas arrangements and she was thrilled that her mad auntie Bev would be up.

That weekend, Callie finalised the GCHQ arrangements and was excited to be invited to Cheltenham. When she went, she naturally stopped over in Oxford to spend a night with Maggie.

“Cheltenham isn't bad for shopping darling, lots of posh people live there so there should be some good pickings in the charity shops.” Maggie grinned.

“Well I suppose I'll be all day at the GCHQ place. I thought you might be visiting your old Alma Mater.”

“I suppose I could do but it's bad manners to arrive unannounced unless one's famous.”

“If one's famous, one usually gets invitations to present prizes etc.” Callie chuckled. “Somehow, I can't see you doing that, leastwise, not for another fifty years or so.”

“Well I'll doubtless find lots to do.”

Callie arrived at the gates to GCHQ with her letter of introduction and had to wait fully ten minutes before her mentor emerged from the bowels of the building. Callie hadn't realised the place was so big.

“I thought it would be some sort of discreet place,” she observed as she followed her mentor back into the depths.

“F'raid not Miss Denton. There's a lot going on these days. Put your right hand in here.”

Callie recognised it as her identification process and complied. There followed several more procedures and eventually she was given a temporary pass.
“You'll get your full pass before we leave this evening. This one is temporary.”

She took the card and shrugged at the stranger glowering back at her as she recalled the old adage about looking like one's passport photo.

At the next stage she was formally invited to sign the official secrets act and after doing so, she reflected that she had finally crossed the Rubicon.

'No going back now', she told herself.

For the rest of the day she was taken around different departments and was surprised to find a small department devoted to transgender issues. Her eyes widened slightly in mild surprise.

“I'm puzzled by this business. I mean transgenderism isn't a crime or even pause for thought these days. At least, not so much in UK.”

“Not here perhaps Miss Denton, but in other countries – well; let's just say it can help our cause sometimes if we learn somebody's gay or a closet transexual.”

“You mean black-mail.”

“Well I wouldn't put it as strongly as that.”

“Well I would. Let's start by calling a spade a spade.”

Her mentor's face clouded with a mix of uncertainty and irritation.

“Does that mean you're not prepared to help?”

“I didn't say that. After all, if I'm to compile algorithms based partly upon human behaviour then transgenderism, or more correctly, gender identity, like sexuality, is a fundamental factor in the mix.”

“Yes. Of course, that makes perfect sense.”

His smile returned as he sensed that Callie was on board for he little realised that Callie was as interested in helping the transgender cause as she was in helping her country. Her take was that if she could improve the general lot of transgendered people worldwide, then by extrapolating her mathematical endeavours, she could improve the lot of humanity.

To help her trans-sisters and brothers, all she had to do was weight the transgender factors differently. If others questioned her values, she could legitimately claim that she had a better knowledge and awareness because she herself was transgendered.

She smiled inwardly at first then let her smile escape as she affirmed her co-operation.

“Now you say that I won't be based here but I can continue my studies at Cambridge?.”

“Yes.”

“And what degree of access with I have to your computers?”
“In the first place, not a lot. Mostly statistics and analysis. Once we're satisfied with your work and you demonstrate sufficient loyalty then you'll probably progress to higher clearance ratings.”

Callie nodded slowly.

“That seems fair.”

By mid afternoon, the tour was completed and he took her to his private office to complete formalities.

“Well that's just about it. Once you get home to your own computer, you can log on with these pass codes then compile your own security procedures.”

“Is that it then? - No swearing of an oath of allegiance no gripping the holy book or grasping the flag or anything?”

“You signed the official secrets act. That's just about it.”

Callie grinned.

“Just how typically British is that, so prosaic; all understatement and inverse informality.”

“That's how we work Miss Denton. Nobody can discern what another person is thinking or feeling. Would you like to go into town for late lunch or early dinner before catching the train?”

“I'm meeting my fiancée in town?”

“All the better. We like to know a little about our staff.”

This understated remark forced an involuntary squawk from Callie.

“Ha! A little! I'll bet you've dug deeper than a gold miner into my past. And don't tell me you haven't!”

He smiled openly. “Of course, we'd be stupid not to; we are, after all, in the spooks game. I'm looking forward to meeting Margaret, or Maggie as you call her. Will she be up for a high tea?”

“Huh, will she ever.”

His revelation concerning Maggie did not faze Callie, she had fully expected it. With the visit over, each dialled into their mobiles, one to organise the rendezvous with Maggie and the other to arrange the meal. Half an hour later they met in hotel. After a brief show of emotion with a hug and a kiss, Callie introduced her mentor to her girlfriend.

“Good afternoon Miss Arnold.”

“Hello Mr uuuhm>”.

Callie grinned and slipped into the impasse.

“I just call him 'Q'”

Maggie let out cackle of derision.

“Oh for goodness sakes, it sounds like a flippin' Bond movie.”

“It works miss Arnold, even at the most comedic level.”

Maggie tempered her mirth as 'Q' continued.

“It's to protect Callie more than me. Her mathematical abilities are very useful to us and Britain.”

“Well that's got to be the truth, she's a right swot.”

“Am not,” Callie objected humorously, “I can't help understanding hard sums.”

“Now, now children!” 'Q' intervened as he entered the mood of levity whilst motioning courteously to the waitress.

She approached immediately and the food was soon ordered. It was an enjoyable and enlightening meal for all three. On the train back to Oxford Maggie tried pumping Callie for more information but Callie's reticence needled her a bit.

“I hope you know what you're getting yourself into. It sounds a bit dodgy to me.”

“No doubt some of it is but I've got my own agenda as well as the official government one.”

“And that is?”

“Not yet darling, early days yet. I'm not even sure how far or what directions I'm bound as yet.”

“Not even an inkling?” Maggie inveigled hopefully.

“Well I have a target but no strategy at the moment.”

“Alright Baldric, I can't wait to find out about 'a cunning plan'.”

By the time they reached Oxford, other issues had surfaced, issues that took them hurriedly to bed.

Heir to a Title 31.

Characters.
Ellie. (Eleanor) The prime Character.
Bill (William) her father, (obviously) Callie (Callista) Ellie’s only daughter. Initially Callum - a transgendered son.
Charlotte. (Nana) Ellie’s Paternal Grandmother
Sandie (Sandra) Ellie’s Older Aunt
Rosie (Rose) Ellie’s Younger Aunt
Henry Ellie’s boyfriend and husband. (Second son of the Duke of Denton)
Molly Duchess of Denton. Henry’s mother.
Bev (Beverly) Ellie’s aunt (Previously Uncle Bernard and brother to her dad.)
Jennifer. (Jennie) Beverly's older adopted daughter.
Beatrice (Bea) Beverly's younger adopted daughter.

Lucy, Henry’s oldest niece, Callum’s cousin.
Eleanor, Henry’s middle niece Callum’s cousin. Same name as Ellie.
Virginia Henry’s youngest niece Callum’s cousin
Julie Ellie’s sister-in-law.
Angela(Angie) Beverly’s wife (kidnapped by pirates and rescued.)
Megan Beverly’s only blood daughter by Angela.
Margaret Arnold.(Maggie) Callie's best female friend. (Eventually to become wife.)
Jane Arnold, Maggie's mother.
James Denton (The Ferrety Denton) Callie's ambitious, uncle.

Early Sunday morning found Callie and Maggie strolling together hand-in-hand along the banks of the Isis. The Winter chill had created a slight mist for there was no wind, just the frozen stunned silence of the lonely meadows. As they watched some rowers slicing through the glass calm mirror of the river, Callie found herself reflecting on the mathematical equations describing the shape of the bow wave and subsequent ripples. Maggie squeezed Callie's arm.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

At first Callie was about to discuss the maths but she desisted. Maggie was studying biology and would probably be more interested in the river's fauna and flora. Then another thought came to mind and she asked Maggie.

“Why do they call it the Isis?”

Maggie squeezed closer to get warm as she explained.

“The old Celtic or possibly the Romano-Celtic name for either the whole river or just this tributary was probably Thamesis and the locals got lazy. They ended up calling this bit the Isis. Then the academics arrived and I suppose they got a bit pretentious. Isis has some classical connotations so that bit stuck.”

“Oooohh. You're a proper mine of information aren't you.” Callie hugged her tighter reciprocating the affectionate gesture.”

Thus reassured by Callie's tightened embrace, Maggie pushed again.

“Now are you really going to tell me what you were thinking about?”

“You'd be bored stiff if I told you.”

“Try me”. Maggie challenged.

“Okay then, I was thinking about the sinusoidal bow wave forms caused by the boats as they cleave the water then I was trying to extrapolate the exponential decay equations as the waves curve out towards the bank. You see it's strange how they curve away from the bow but reflect as a straight wave if they hit a straight barrier like the bridge abutments. I was wondering -. You're not listening anymore are you?”

“Shhh. Look!” Maggie whispered softly. “There's a kingfisher!”

“There!” Callie responded in the requisite whisper. “All you're interested in is birds.” Callie lamented.

“Better than being a numbers geek.” Maggie retaliated affectionately. “But I still love you.”

Maggie's awareness and acceptance of Callie's maths bug was one of her characteristics that attracted her to the biologist. They hugged each other tightly and paused to embrace in a passionate kiss beneath a chestnut tree. They were so engrossed in their embrace that they failed to notice a group of male students approaching until their loud chatter alerted Callie.

Even at a distance of some fifty metres Callie recognised the dinner jackets and white scarves of a bunch of Bullingdon Club members struggling home after a night out. Then she realised that the group had noticed her and Maggie. As both Callie and Maggie were very attractive girls, Callie prepared for the inevitable and uninvited attention..

“Stand by Mags', enemy sighted astern of you. Just let me -”

Maggie tensed slightly and tried to look behind. Callie disguised her preparations by grasping Maggie's face and gently planting a kiss on her lips.

“What-choo doing girl?” Maggie demanded as she felt Callie's arm struggling to bend awkwardly.

“Taking precautions girl. There, I've got it.”

Callie's right hand had reached into her shoulder bag and emerged clutching a spray.

“Whassat?” She whispered as the students came closer.

“Just a precaution,” Callie reassured her.

Inevitably the sight of two very attractive 'lesbians' kissing was deemed cause for comment by a bunch of spoiled, arrogant, toffs and initially they started jeering and cat-calling as young males in packs are want to do.

“Coor! Look at the lezzo totty lads. Warra' waste.”

Knowing that just ignoring them would not suffice to detract their attentions, Callie just formed 'two fingers' behind Maggie's back as she looked over Maggie's shoulder and retorted.

“Fuck off you dumb apes.”

Inevitably one of the jeering oafs deemed any sort of reaction to be just cause to invade their space. He stepped out of his group and leaned into the girl's space and leered provocatively.

“A girl as pretty as you should get herself a real man Come on darling, give me a ki - Aaargh!”

He reared back cursing and rubbing his eyes to no avail as his cronies stared stupidly at his bright blue face. Callie just turned and glared at them whilst pointing her can of mace.

“You'd better take that dumb chimpanzee to casualty. He'll need treatment.”

A shocked silence overcame the group before one of the more reasonable boys protested as he guided his blinded crony away.

“What the hell d' you do that for? He was only joshing?”

“He was threatening me, least ways I thought he was. To threaten a woman is sexual assault, so fuck off.”

“If his sight is damaged, you'll be for it.”

Callie was familiar with the type of mace she preferred and used. Experience had taught her that the more acceptable, preferred propriety maces were often not enough to prevent a determined abuser. The blue one she purchased on line was the strongest safe one on the market.

“You'd better take him to casualty. He won't suffer any permanent damage but the longer you leave it, the longer he'll take to heal and the longer he'll be in pain. By the way, the dye stays around for a week or more so everybody will know he's been maced.”

Her reply persuaded the semi-intelligetn one to hurry his blinded friend away. Callie turned to re-engage Maggie's arm and the two resumed strolling along the riverside path as if nothing had happened.

“Is that stuff really safe?” Maggie asked.

“Yes, but it disables them for longer and it's much more painful than the stuff you buy over the counter here. He'll be rinsing out his eyes every five minutes for the next couple of hours. It even works on pit-bulls.”

Maggie chuckled and the pair were still embracing each other as they stepped up from the idyllic riverside path onto the road bridge then across the river into town as they strolled back to hall.

That afternoon, Callie reluctantly returned to Cambridge and immediately started work on her computers. With her new password, she quickly availed herself of the limited material that GCHQ had entitled her to access. It was midnight when her laptop bullied her into going to bed. The laptop had her timetable embedded and knew when she had important lectures to attend. Monday's applied maths and IT lecture was, for Callie at least, the most important lesson of the week.

After the Monday morning lecture, the tutor approached her with a hand-written letter from the professor.
Callie thanked him and took it to the refectory to read over a coffee. It was brief and direct. The professor listed a couple of items and some preferred fields of investigation. That afternoon she finished the assignation stemming from the morning lecture then devoted the evening to the professor's stuff. Invariably she found herself hungry around midnight and visited the local MacDonald's before finally succumbing to her pillow as Tuesday's dawn crept slowly up the winter sky.
.
A gentle banging disturbed her sleep in the mid afternoon. It was Michael.

“Where've you been all weekend babes?”

“I went to Oxford to visit Maggie.”

“There were some gentlemen of a somewhat Moorish appearance looking for you.”

“Go on.”

“They wouldn't say much just that they were wanting to talk to you.”

Callie had a good idea as to who they were but decided not to go fishing. If it was that important, they'd be back.

And back they were.

On the Wednesday, a firm knock on her ancient study door alerted her to a visit by a porter. It took her a few seconds to secure her computers so she called through the door asking them to wait.

“You've got visitors Miss Denton.”

Callie quickly switched on the micro camera and microphone then once her computers were shut down she opened her door. The porter presented himself as three Moorish individuals were stood behind them.

“These gentlemen are from the middle east Miss Denton, they have asked to speak to you. Are you happy to accept them as guests?”

“Okay then Mr Worcester. Thank you.”

The porter had already formed his own conclusions about the visitors and whispered softly.

“Would you like me to stay miss?”

Callie smiled before replying in a simila whisper.

“I've got my rape alarm and the window's open, you'll hear it all the way across the quad.”

“Very well miss,” he turned and ushered the three men in.

Callie remained seated as they swaggered in and the porter left whilst leaving the door open.

“Sit down gentlemen, what can I do for you?”

The men took the available seating as the smaller one opened up.

“We are representatives of the Saudi Government Miss Denton and we are here on a matter of some discretion.”

“Would this be the attempted rape.”

It was against their customs to get down to business immediately. In their own country, there were elaborate courtesies to be gone through before the reasons for a visit could be addressed. Calie's coming straight to the point unsettled them slightly. The three exchanged concerned looks as the smaller one coughed politely.

“Ahem, yes. We are trying to mitigate the damages.”

“How would you do that?” Callie wondered aloud.

“Well – we were wondering – and hoping that you might be prepared to accept a suitable sum of money as compensation for damages if you were to drop the charges?”

“It's not a matter of damages gentlemen, it's a matter of keeping female students safe in a university city after dark. Indeed gentlemen, it's a matter of keeping every woman everywhere in Britain safe after dark. If this thug thinks he can get off by simply throwing money at the case until it goes away then the next Saudi princeling with believe the same thing and so the attacks might resume elswhere by somebody else at some later date. Anyway, I believe he might be implicated in much more serious charges in London. Serial rape, I believe.”

The trio exchanged very concerned frowns.

“Where did you learn of that?”

“That's no concern of yours. But my sources tell me that the victims were smuggled victims of the Albanian sex trade. Eastern European women. I must first contact the police and check if those victims are safe.”

“They have accepted very large sums as compensation.”

“In return for dropping the cases I'll warrant. Well I'm not concerned about what compensation deals they might have struck. I need to know if they are safe, - for the rest of their lives that is.”

“Why would you concern yourself with that?”

Callie spelled it out as forcefully and patiently as she could.

“Because - I - am - a – woman, - and - women - must - be - made – safe. It's not just me you see, it's every woman in Britain, or even the world.”

“I would respectfully suggest that you are being idealistic and overly ambitious for a - “

“For a woman; is that what you were going to say?”

Callie had read his thoughts exactly. Her nailing his thoughts so accurately unnerved him.
and his uncertain pause gave her another opportunity to drive her agenda.

“Do you think then that women are not capable of addressing such issues or do you think they are not entitled to?”

He was stuck for words momentarily and Callie hit harder.

“Well, I – it's not that -”

“I suspect it is. You genuinly think that I have no rights to act upon this assault because I am a woman and an infidel woman at that!”

“You have no evidence to support that. You would lose your argument even in an English court of law.”

“I am not going to court over my beliefs, I'm going to court over a sexual assault, an attempted rape.”

“Are you being so intransigent because he is a Muslim?”

The smaller man had hit the nail right on the head but Callie refused to be caught in some sort of 'islamaphobia' trap. She wagged her head forcefully.

“I am not saying anything of the sort and I'll thank you not to make such objectionable charges. I was assaulted late at night for no other reason than I was out alone at night and indeed, my assailant openly declared this to be so as he attacked me.

This sort of oppression cannot be allowed to continue and if I can play my tiny part in bringing the full force of the law to bear, then I will.

There's to be no deal gentlemen, so I must respectfully request that you leave.”

“Are you telling me you are prepared to turn down a huge sum of money just for a minor sexual assault?”

“That's exactly what I'm telling you gentlemen and might I remind you it was not minor. No sexual assault is minor, especially one at the dead of night. That's all gentlemen, you can see yourselves out thank you.”

The trio left whilst obviously arguing amongst themselves in Arabic.

After they had left, Callie became curious about the efforts that the Saudi government had expended trying to cover up the assault. As she watched the three of them depart the quadrangle, she immediately turned to her computers and started browsing Saudi Arabia. It wasn't long before she located and identified her attacker as a member of the House of Saud and quite high up in the inheritance pecking order, such as pecking orders existed in Islamic dynasties. Callie was well aware that the selection of the next monarch did not follow a strict hereditary protocol as was the case in European royal families but it was more of a series of political jockeying for power then grabbing the opportuniy if it presented itself. Assasinations and 'disappearences' were rife when inheritance became an issue.

After checking the supposed line of succession, Callie availed herself of what information was available via the GCHQ computers and learned a little more. Her attacker was a little closer to the Saudi throne than the official 'line-of-sucession' would seem to indicate. Her reservations were proven to have substance when the next morning she received an unexpected call from the police officer dealing with her case.

She bid the police woman welcome and offered the sunny end of her sofa while she settled by her desk incase she needed to consult her computers. The officer wasted no time and opened up even before Callie had finished putting the kettle on.

“I hear you've been approached by certain gentlemen from Saudi.”

“True.” Callie confirmed. “They tried to bribe me to withdraw my complaints.”

“And?”

“No way. I've had it up to here with issues ranging from univited attentions right up to attempted rape.”

“So you're definitely going ahead with it?”

“Ye-ess. Why, have you started having reservations.”

“No, no. That's just it. Every female officer I speak to is supporting you and most of the male officers as well, but we suspect there's some sort of big arms deal in the wind and your attacker is one of the Saudi princes possibly in line to the throne.

They might use the arms deal to get some leverage on the British government to get the assault charges dropped. They might bring some pressure to bear.”

“No fucking way!” Callie cursed angrily. “My whole lifetime agenda, all nineteen years of it, has been devoted to women's rights. This bastard is not getting away with it and I wouldn't bloody care even if he was going to be the next king of Saudi Arabia.”

The police officer nodded with tight-lipped satisfaction.On the metropolitan police grape vine she had learned of a tremendous amount of dissatisfaction amongst the Metropolitan Police concerning the fact that the assailant had managed to get the women victims in London to drop the charges. There had been whispers that veiled threats in addition to huge bribes had prevented the east European victims of human trafficking from continuing with the prosecutions. The police officer nodded sagely as she made some brief notes in her book.

“Well Miss Denton. If you continue with your determination, we shall at least be able to give our colleagues in London a modicum of satisfaction. All the effort they put into their case down south has come to nought and it now hinges upon you. Thanks again for your continued determination.”

“Don't worry officer, my mind is made up.”

She nodded and tipped her hat briefly by way of grateful thanks before leaving. Callie stared at the doorway then scanned the copy forms that the officer had left for her. From the forms, she learned her assailants name and title. With the aid of her new computers and her GCHQ access, she soon had all the details she needed. Her attacker was certainly a high-ranking grandson of the current king and further hunting located the GCHQ file on him. Callie's maths and computer skills were already helping her to circumvent some of the hacking blocks. She pursed her lips angrily when she finally located his file and noted what offences he'd bee originally charged with. Further reading did not endear her to him.

“Right you arrogant, evil bastard,” she thought to herself. “Here's where you get yours.”

A brief evenings work soon had her hacked into his computer and her GCHQ connections now enabled her to monitor all his emails, albeit illegally. Nevertheless, she soon had a thick dossier on him including some rather murky and sinister events in other countries, especially Lebanon and Tunisia. Apparently some girls in a night-club had gone missing and Interpol were somehow involved because the girls had been European minor celebrities.

Cautiously, Callie attached a portal to the prince's email address so that every message going in or out was monitered. The man had several safety gates and a scrambler but his efforts were to no avail. Callie's computer skills were of a level that eventually broke all his security codes and passwords, but more importantly, she managed it without being detected.

After having broken into the prince's account, Callie purchased an old-fashioned type-writer and carefully recorded all the pertinant information that might somehow bring about the man's downfall. Her hopes were finally answered when the Prince got careless and sent some messages to a friend who took the same perverted pleasure in attacking lonely infidel women.
Although the messages were in Arabic, her translation programme readily reduced them to comprhensible messages and she was amazed to discover that they were discussing two things. The first was where they could find suitable victims for their further perverted delights. The second item first made her blood run cold, they were planning to somehow shut the Cambridge infidel bitch down. Knowing this obviously referred to her, she realised it was unsafe to go to the police herself and she debated posting a type-written 'snail-mail' note to GCHQ in Cheltenham. After ruminating on it for a weekend she reluctantly decided to do so and by the following Thursday an anonymous letter arrived on the Middle-eastern desk of GCHQ. The information in itself was very much low key but it was of sufficient detail to prompt action enough to have it integrated into the pertinent algorithms on GCHQ's computers. Callie was content to let the information keep it's low priority status because it enable her to access it fairly easily withou attracting attention.

Some weeks later Callie received notice of her court hearing date.

Inevitably, thanks to the depth and detail of the questioning she faced, it became common knowledge about Callie's transgendered status. The barrister even tried to have the charges dropped on the grounds that Callie was 'still a male' and therefore there was no case of sexual assault to answer. To his chagrin, Callie readily produced her gender reassignment certificate thereby demonstarating that she was legally a woman. This, coupled with her obvious beautiful famle appearance and the judge's clear direction to the jury to consider Callie to be legally a woman, was enough to win Callie her case. Her attacker was found guilty by a unanimous verdict and sentenced to six months in prison.

Callie wished it had been six years but she had to be thankful for small mercies. Even a six month sentence would send a loud clear message to Muslim princes that they were not above the law, at least not in the UK.

Heir to a title 32

Characters.
Ellie. (Eleanor) The prime Character.
Bill (William) her father, (obviously) Callie (Callista) Ellie’s only daughter. Initially Callum - a transgendered son.
Charlotte. (Nana) Ellie’s Paternal Grandmother
Sandie (Sandra) Ellie’s Older Aunt
Rosie (Rose) Ellie’s Younger Aunt
Henry Ellie’s boyfriend and husband. (Second son of the Duke of Denton)
Molly Duchess of Denton. Henry’s mother.
Bev (Beverly) Ellie’s aunt (Previously Uncle Bernard and brother to her dad.)
Jennifer. (Jennie) Beverly's older adopted daughter.
Beatrice (Bea) Beverly's younger adopted daughter.

Lucy, Henry’s oldest niece, Callum’s cousin.
Eleanor, Henry’s middle niece Callum’s cousin. Same name as Ellie.
Virginia Henry’s youngest niece Callum’s cousin
Julie Ellie’s sister-in-law.
Angela(Angie) Beverly’s wife (kidnapped by pirates and rescued.)
Megan Beverly’s only blood daughter by Angela.
Margaret Arnold.(Maggie) Callie's best female friend. (Eventually to become wife.)
Jane Arnold, Maggie's mother.
James Denton (The Ferrety Denton) Callie's ambitious, uncle.

With the court case settled, Callie concluded she had two major issues that needed to be resolved and both concerned her own personal safety.

The first was determining if the Saudi prince or his 'go-fors' would continue to be a danger to her or indeed any other girls.

The second was to decide how far she would go if there was another effort to avenge her success in the courts.

Sadly she concluded that she was now forced to watch her back at all times; worse still she didn't have the material or psychological resources that the prince had at his beck and call. This being the case she reluctantly decided that she would have to 'play for keeps' if there was a revenge attack. The only benefit for Callie was that 'Q', her mentor at GCHQ, offered to upgrade her security status and allow her a higher level of access to their intelligence concerning the middle east. On learning this Callie smiled ironically to herself. The truth was, she had already hacked to that level of security but at least her upgraded status now meant she ran no more risks of accusations on that level. It was level that gave her ample capacity to keep track of her attacker or 'Abdul' as she preferred to call him.

Six months to the day after 'Abdul' being sentenced, Callie came home to find one of her computers flashing a warning.

“Huh, he didn't waste much time did he?” She told herself for it was the computer she had dedicated to tracking him. It transpired that 'Abdul' had been booked out on a flight to Saudi Arabia the next day.. She did nothing that day for she could never be certain just how aware the Prince's lackeys were protecting him electronically. All she determined was where and when he would land.

The city where he landed had security cameras located all over it's airport so Callie anticipated devoting several days to penetrating the computer security system surrounding their operation. It took less time than she expected thanks to poor maintenance and irregular internal repairs that had been botched or short circuited because of a poorly trained maintenance team. Callie could not believe how easy it was to tap into their immigration facial recognition system that the airport boasted was the most sophisticated in the world.

As far as the facial recognition technology was concerned it possibly was, but the security surrounding the information it gathered was lamentable. Incredibly she had located an 'in' via the personal computer of the national chief of security who, like every other high level government official, was a member of the Saudi Royal family. Incompetence bred from nepotism and arrogance had enabled her to bypass the security precautions and to her amazement she discovered that she possibly had more information about people movements through all the airports of Saudi Arabia than the Saudi Authorities themselves.

Naturally, a secret is only a secret as long as only ONE person knows about it, and, more importantly, keeps that secret only to him-or-hereslf.

Having broken into what was deemed throughout the middle east as one of the most formidable, electronic fortresses in all Islam, Callie was well aware that if others knew, she could be in danger. Silence was the keystone of her operation, 'Omerta' became her code. Even 'Q', her mentor at GCHQ, would not learn of her breakthrough.

Having created a reasonably secure safety fence around her, Callie resumed her normal humdrum life studying maths and assisting GCHQ with their algorithms. Eventually Michaelmas term approached Christmas and Callie arranged to meet Maggie on the King's Cross to York train at Peterborough. The arrived home together where her mother Ellie and her mad Great Aunt Beverly greeted them at the station.

“You're mum's first is it?” Ellie asked Maggie.

“Yes please, There's a load of family who've come over from Canada and the States. It's a big family reunion because my Gran is very frail and this might be the last time she will see all her issue together.”

“Oh, I'm sorry to hear that, is she very ill.”

“Cancer I'm afraid. We've been warning her for years about the smoking but, well, you know how it is. She always seemed to think she was bomb proof but, -”

Maggie broke down in tears as they were approaching her farm and Auntie Beverly pulled over for Callie to give her a comforting hug. After copious tears and almost a box of tissues, the tears finally ceased and the make-up was repaired. Maggie's mum met them at the door when they arrived and all the usual celebrations were entered before introductions were made. There were some twenty relatives over from across the pond some American but most being Canadian, three extended families in all. Callie was invited to stay for supper and her mad aunt Beverly agreed to collect her later that evening.

As the afternoon extended into early evening Callie found herself chatting to a tall American in his forties. It turned out he was Maggie's uncle once removed and he turned out to be very interesting. When he discovered that Callie was reading Maths at Cambridge he quickly revealed that he had studied maths at M.I.T.,

“So young lady, have you considered what you'll be doing with your degree.”

“No much, I'm afraid. I will be expected to run the Denton Estate.”

“Estate you say. Surely that doesn't take a maths degree?”

“No, but it takes a lot of other skills to deal with all the problems. I won't be spending much time on maths.”

“Why that's such a pity! Good maths degrees are priceless in my profession.”

“And what profession is that?” Callie asked, thinking banking or actuarial work.

“Oh sorry, can't really say much. Government stuff you understand.”

“Oh, like cyber warfare and all that stuff.”

His expression clouded slightly as his eyes narrowed.

“Why, d' you know much about that stuff?”

“Well it's so closely allied to hacking and stuff, I think just about every maths student is aware of it to some degree.”

His expression darkened further.

“Do you hack then?”

“Well sometimes, out on Denton Moor. Now I'm down for Christmas, my horse will be glad to see me provided the weather stays fine.”

He chuckled at her reply as he caught on.

“You know very well I was talking about hacking computers not riding horses.”

“Oh that?” Callie replied amusedly. “What I.T., student hasn't?”

“You just be careful young lady. Remember the penalties for hacking can be applied across borders. If you hack a computer in America or any other foreign country, then the authorities can demand your extradition from your home country to that other country.”

“Yes, I had heard,” Callie admitted gracefully as she tried to step away but he had now latched onto the hacking issue and he refused to let her go.

“Believe me young lady, my advice is don't do it. There have been several very clever students who've fallen foul of the cybernetic misbehaviour.”

“But everybody does it,” Callie argued. “Even the CIA or MI5 are doing it. That's how they gather half their intelligence. That's how they all do it.”

The uncle stiffened slightly then nodded resignedly.

“Well I suppose you're right. Sometimes it's the only way forward.”

“Well to tell the truth sir, I'm more interested in research, mathematical modelling and stuff, you know, algorithms and such like. Computers lend themselves so readily to such activity. The internet is too much of a give-away or my liking. Using it leaves you open to people trying to steal one's ideas and stuff.”

“Do you go online much?”

“Not as much as my peers.” She countered, knowing her reply was very ambiguous.

With that they were interrupted and Callie did not chat to him again until dinner. He had become engaged with another family member about spying and their conversation had got around to the middle east and the closed societies of Saudi Arabia and Iran. Callie was not paying much attention as she savoured Jane Arnold's excellent roast beef until she was drawn into the conversation by a question directed at her by Maggie.

“Isn't that right Callie?”

“Eh! What? What's not right?” Callie wondered as she came out of her introspection.

“Haven't you been listening?” Maggie demanded.

“Uuhm, sorry, not a lot. I was away with the birds.”

“We were talking about Saudi Arabia and their censorship of their internet in their country.” The American uncle explained.

Callie shrugged and wagged her head before replying.

“Anything those idiot do would not surprise me. They're all a bunch of misogynistic bigots.”

The American uncle nodded again.

“Well you're not wrong there young lady, did you know they've got one of the tightest security set-ups in the middle east, if not the world. Even we, the Americans have trouble with it.”

“Yes, I had heard,” Callie responded, “I believe it's partly to do with their using an ancient version of early Arabic to write some of their code. There are virtually no scholars outside of Saudi Arabia who know of it and it never had a written form. The language was essentially a Bedouin lingua so it's almost a code in itself and nobody's come up with a Rosetta Stone.”

The uncle's demeanour immediately straightened.

“How in the heck did you know that Callie?”

“I heard one of Abdul's military cronies using it during my assault trial. I had secretly learned classical Arabic simply to make sure I could understand what they were saying to each other but this guy was using some other language and I couldn't find anything about it at first. Eventually I began to understand what he was trying to hide because he occasionally had to use proper Arabic to explain himself even to his Saudi Colleagues. By extrapolation I eventually worked out how this old language worked because the grammar is unlike any other Semitic language.”

“Who's 'Abdul'?” The uncle pressed.

“My nickname for the bastard who tried to assault me.”

“Oh. And this language, do you understand it?”

Callie paused thoughtfully. Having broken into the Saudi Cypher Fortress, she had inadvertently entered into field that western intelligence agencies were still agonising over. Her phenomenal ear for languages had taken her there and she had learned huge amounts about the Wahhabist entanglements in terrorist plots worldwide. She decided it would be risky to reveal what she knew for it would invite all sorts of unwarranted interest and that might compromise her own personal intelligence gathering system as it concerned 'Abdul' her attacker. She decided to make some smoke with her reply.

“No, I don't understand it much, I only know of it's existence. Why? Have you come across it in your work?”

This reply immediately set the uncle's guard up. The CIA's inability to penetrate the fortress was a source of embarrassment ameliorated only by the knowledge that none of the other intelligence agencies had got very far with it either. Unfortunately he knew that Callie already knew that they knew so he would have to tread very carefully. This care was Callie's ladder out of the hole she had dug.

Then the uncle mentioned something much closer to home and it was Callie's turn to shiver.

“The Saudi Charge de Affairs in Washington did mention recently that they were upset by somebody trying to hack into their security. Apparently they got very close but it fell short because they apparently gave up trying to decipher the Bedouin travelling tongue..”

Callie struggled to maintain her composure as she feigned complete disinterest while she reached out and cut a few more slices of delicious roast beef off the joint. Her effort almost worked except that Maggie's uncle noticed her silence. He said nothing more at the table but later he approached her as she was organising her lift home on her mobile.

“I could offer you a lift home, there's no need for your aunt to go to any trouble.”

“Oh that's okay. My aunt was already preparing to leave to collect me.”

“How long will she be?”

“B'out twenty minutes. It's not far.”

Having engaged the girl again, the uncle seized upon his opportunity.

“Your British intelligence agency has got good sources out in the middle east.”

“Yes, I've heard that; it's hardly surprising since they've been there for over a hundred years. You know, Lawrence of Arabia and all that.”

“No, I mean quite recently, in the last six months. They've shared some pretty useful stuff with us. We believe they've got a mole pretty high up in the house of Saud.”

“And?”

“Well, after what you just revealed at the dinner table, I suspected that mole could be you.”

“Excuse me, I've never been to Saudi Arabia and I've no intentions of going. Apart from being vulnerable because of my gender issues, I've got no wish to wear a Burkha or anything else.”

Her revelation about her transgenderism shocked Maggie's uncle but he was well trained in hiding his feelings and he let the issue pass without comment. Instead he returned to the issue of the supposed British mole.

“Oh. I got that wrong then. But you do seem to know an awful lot about Arabic and this ancient dialect of theirs.”

“Only what I've listened to and researched on the internet.”

“There's not much there. Believe me, we've searched. Would you be prepared to tell us what you know and how you came by it?”

“Are you trying to recruit me or something?”

He paused thoughtfully for he had not even considered such a possibility up to that point.

“Are you offering to work for us?”

“No.” Callie replied flatly.

“Would you be prepared to accept our offer, if we made one. We could make it worth your while.”

“No to that as well. Besides, I'm not even American. Anyway, I don't want to get tangled up with these Islamic fundamentalists any more than I have done, my gender issues alone would invite my death if they found an opportunity.. Would you want to get involved with them?”

“I'm already tangled up with them Miss.”

“Yeah, well I'm not and I don't intend to start.”

Even as she said it she felt a tiny twinge of guilt about her lie. The truth was, she had penetrated so deep into 'The Fortress' that she probably knew more about Arabia's dirty secrets than anybody else on earth. This had happened inadvertently but inevitably because 'Abdul' had been sloppy with his emails and on line security and allowed Callie to create a secret portal. Callie concluded even as her conversation ended, to remain absolutely shtumm about her portal. One of the biggest failings amongst hackers and other computer whiz-kids was often a degree of conceit that led to bragging. Callie remained tight-lipped.

Her endeavours to remain secret however were not to last forever. For the first two years at Cambridge her work developing and improving algorithms and other cyber warfare techniques served to keep GCHQ off her back, Q had already established with the Maths professor that his protege was not prepared to work full time. Apparently, the young lady felt it made her vulnerable to attacks if her existence became known too widely at GCHQ. Consequently only 'Q' and his immediate superior knew of her existence. She was right of course, no organisation is totally leak-proof.

Unfortunately her endeavours to remain anonymous were stymied during her summer vacation prior to returning for her final year. By this time her Arabic was more or less fluent and her knowledge of the ancient dialect was sufficient to alert her to anybody using it, or any words included in modern Arabic. She was on a month-long summer holiday with Maggie in Paris and happily lazing in a pavement cafe while Maggie was across the street studying some beautiful paintings of assorted tropical birds with their many coloured and varied plumages. Callie was sipping her third cup of coffee and smiling while watching Maggie haggling over the prices across the street when a group of young people sat down next to her and started talking in Arabic.

For want of any other interest, Callie fell to eves-dropping on the group's conversation and was intrigued to hear some words from the ancient dialect. Immediately another member of the group scolded the culprit in modern Arabic quite forcefully.

“Shut up you big mouthed idiot. You never know who is listening!”

“Oh don't be daft who is there that speaks Arabic here let alone the old tongue? There's only that dumb blond bitch on the next table and those Yanks across the aisle.”

As other members busied themselves on their mobile phones the conversation between the first two got more heated. Callie realised there was a serious argument as more old dialect words popped up. Intrigued by the developments, she casually started fiddling with her mobile phone just like countless other modern girls.
What she was actually doing was activating her lap-top which had been lying idle in her back pack.

With few deft strokes of one of her own specialised programmes she was soon monitoring the wi-fi and the phone texts of each of the Arabic group sat around the table.

What she found alarmed her but she was too far away from her home computers to easily download the information and furthermore, her 'stand-alone-Saudi' computer was completely disconnected from the internet so she could dig no further.

Instead, she copied each of the Arab's email addresses then encrypted the messages as she recorded each conversation and resumed finishing her coffee. Next she casually took out her lap top and started recording the conversations across the aisle. This while she pretended to be busy writing up some university notes.

While the group were still arguing and inadvertently revealing priceless snippets of information (while being recorded by Callie's laptop), Maggie returned with a set of four beautiful paintings.

“What-choo think babe's?”

“They're lovely.”

“They're Lyre birds.”

Callie took hold of them to examine them more closely.

“Are they hand painted?”

“Yes.” She pointed across the road. “That guy with the blue paisley scarf did them. They're original. He gave me a good deal for the four of them.”

“For your study I suppose, but they are beautiful.”

“Thanks, shall we resume our tour.”

Callie nodded for she had enough evidence on her computer to send to GCHQ however, as always, she wanted to do it anonymously. Consequently, she bought a cheap second-hand laptop, visited an internet cafe and downloaded all the information in encrypted form to GCHQ. After completing the task, she ditched the lap-top in the Seine.

“No names, no Pack-drill.” she told herself.

In Cheltenham 'Q' received an unexpected message almost the length of a short novel. It had originated apparently from a server in Morocco but the information was sourced probably from Saudi Arabia and would prove vital to the French authorities. The message also promised to deliver hard irrefutable evidence later. Two days later a disc duly landed anonymously on 'Q's desk with a recording of the arguments that Callie had recorded plus a written list of the ancient dialects and terms that Callie had translated first into modern Arabic thence into English.. The information proved explosive and 'Q' almost wet her panties when she had finally absorbed everything.

“Who the hell was this source?” she asked herself as she took the information to the highest level.

“I don't know,” she replied to her boss's similar question, “but whoever he is, he's given us some priceless information. Listen to the translation he's made. I've double checked it with our own translators and it gives us dates and locations. Whoever our friend is, he's a good ally and whoever these bozo's are they're a loose lipped bunch of fools. Time to tell the French I think.

Three days later, while Callie and Maggie were preparing to catch the Eurostar train back to London there was a failed terror attack on the Gare-du-Nord rail station. The pair heard the gunfire from their hotel even as they were having breakfast. On learning of events from the local radio, (Maggie spoke French fluently) she turned to her girlfriend-cum-fiancée.

“My God darling. It's a good job you changed our departure times, we could have been in amongst all that.”

“Yeah,” Callie agreed whole-heartedly, “let's be thankful the French were on top of it.”

“It was a big operation apparently, “ Maggie continued, “they say they've captured over twenty attackers and killed seven! Apparently they are seeking more. Will it be safe to travel?”

“I should think so.” Callie opined,. “After all, the terrorists have just received a devastating blow. They'll be at sixes and sevens over this and wondering where the leak came from. What puzzles me is that they caught so many alive. The gendarmerie must have some bloody good moles buried deep so as to prepare such a good ambush. We'd better phone our parents and let them know we're going to be a day or so late. Scenes of crimes people will be all over the place.”

“I can't be late,” Maggie explained why. “We could cancel the train and take a plane to Manchester. I've just checked, there's one this afternoon.”

“Good thinking Batwoman. Let's get onto it.”

After rearranging their travel plans, they arrived home late that evening.”

Callie had got away with a direct communication without revealing herself. However she slipped up when she returned back to college to complete her final year.

After she had settled in she received an invitation to her Professor's study. It simply said 'Algorithms for the coming term' and Callie thought nothing more about it. However on the following Tuesday when she entered the professor's study she was surprised to find 'Q' and Maggie's uncle already seated. 'Q' spoke first.

Good afternoon Miss Denton. I believe you've met Dr Arnold, a colleague of mine in the CIA?”

The American was forced to admire the young lady's fortitude for she did not blink or flinch on discovering him at the meeting. Instead, Callie went on the offensive.
“I don't understand Professor, I thought this was a private meeting between you and me. You did not mention others.”

“Well it was a bit of a surprise to me as well Miss Denton. Dr Arnold and your controller have a few things they'd like to discuss with you.

“Controller? Might I remind you professor that I am not working as a spy for GCHQ., I am simply helping them with innovative mathematical algorithms to help them improve their predictive techniques. I am not a 'James Bond'!”

“You signed the official secrets act and that leaves you open to military and civil law. Dr Arnold has got some concerns about certain aspects you briefly spoke to him about during last Christmas. Would you like to discuss these concerns?”

Callie turned Dr Arnold and shrugged. “Fire away?”

Dr Arnold hesitated as he checked his prepared questions.

“Ahem, well Miss Denton, firstly we are curious to know how you came to be so informed about the Saudi secret language.”

“What? D' you mean 'Vetus iter lingua Bedouin'?”

“The what?” 'Q' interrupted.

“The ancient travelling language of the Bedouin. It's a sort of travelling 'polarie' that Caravan traders used to use to keep their business affairs private. It's pretty much extinct these days except for a few academics in Egypt and the Arabian Peninsular.”

“So why have you developed an interest in it?”

“I came across some Arabic emails with some unknown words when my lawyers and I were preparing my case against the Saudi Prince who attacked me. I just got curious because I thought they were some sort of code. For a few weeks I had absolutely no idea what the language was or where it came from so I had to dig very deep into Bedouin folk lore. I found most of my information online in some obscure documents archived in the National Museums of Jordan, Egypt, Saudi Arabia and Yemen.

I have a gift for languages that I don't brag about and this stuff just piqued my interest. Most of the stuff came from the Yemeni archives but sadly the library at Sana'a was obliterated during a recent Saudi missile strike. When I last tried to find out some information, the web site was dead. I've since seen U Tube pictures of the library, there's absolutely nothing left except a huge crater. So much for the Arabic concerns about their history. Even one of the earliest Korans was destroyed. I downloaded lots of stuff but there's still mountains of history lost forever. Fundamentalist vandals, the bloody lot of them.”

“I remember you telling me that you thought the Saudi's were using this -what did you call it Veritas lingua Bedouin?”

Callie nodded as she corrected Dr Arnold.

“ It's Vetus iter lingua Bedouin. Yes, and I reckon the Saudi's deliberately destroyed the library because they didn't want anybody to catch on about their employment of the language in concocting this new Cyber fortress they've built. There are only a few brief trading notes transcribed to paper in Jordan and Egypt while Saudi had some ledgers mostly dealing with business arrangements. By far the biggest source was to be found in Sana'a and that's gone.”

Dr Arnold nodded as he followed Callie's reasoning.

“Do you remember me telling you that the Saudi's had intimated that some mole had tried to break into their fortress.”

“Yes.”

“Well our endeavours now point to somebody using that language to try and break into their fortress.”

“And?”

“Well it seems a coincidence that you seem to be one of the few people who's got any sort of handle on this lingua Bedouin.”

Callie shrugged again in true Gallic style. “Coincidences happen. I'm certainly not the only one, I can think of several Egyptian and Jordanian academics who have better skills than me.”

“Yes, but you're the only western individual we know of and further more you've got an axe to grind.”

“If you mean the sexual assault by bin Saud, then that's over and done with,” Callie lied, “unless he wants to take it further.”

“Does he?”

“How would I know?”

“How indeed, now for the other coincidence.”

“Oh do tell. Am I on trial or something?”

“No but you were in Paris when the attack was thwarted. Do you think it was an attack aimed at you?”

“Bloody hell! How would I know?”

“It was timed to take place at exactly when the train you had booked was due to leave. If it had been successful you could have been killed but you altered your plans, why?”

“I noticed we had been getting up later than anticipated throughout our stay so I changed the train for a later one in case we missed the early one.”

“Any explanations as to why you were getting up late?”
“Oh don't be bloody stupid. We were having a romantic bloody holiday in Paris. What d'you bloody think kept us in bed?”

Dr Arnold's face turned red either with embarrassment or anger, Callie knew not which but he quickly changed tack.

“Tell me Miss Denton, here's a hypothetical question. If you did stumble upon some sort of terrorist plot would you report it and if so, how would you report it?”

“Of course I would report it, I'd go to the police. I sense this question is less hypothetical than you are prepared to admit. Do you seriously think I'd let it go unreported, what d'you think I am?”

“I don't know what to think but there are too many coincidences between the attempt to hack into the Saudi fortress and your seemingly extensive knowledge of this 'Vetus iter lingua Bedouin'. The Saudi's tell me that they are convinced the hacker must have an extensive knowledge of modern Arabic as well as the ancient form. Might I ask, is your computer secure from Cyber attack?”

“As best as I can make it. My access connection to GCHQ makes that an imperative. Are you somehow trying to connect me to the terrorist attack?”

“I think you must agree it's plausible.”

“In what context; as a terrorist aiming to attack the west or as a mole exposing Saudi duplicity.”

“What makes you think the Saudi's are duplicitous?”

“Oh come on, they pose the biggest threat to modern democracy than any other force on the planet, thanks to naive politicians.”

“How?”

“Wahhabism and their efforts to spread its poison with all these extremist Imams being paid for by Saudi oil money or what ever.”

“Do you think it's dangerous?”

“Very!”

“Why?”

“I've just told you; we're going around in circles here. There's an old saying that 'No force on earth can defeat an idea who's time has come. For the wahhabists that time is now and they've got the idea plus the ears of one and a half thousand million Muslims. - Thanks to Saudi oil money and modern communications.”

“Are you Islamophobic?”

“Yes; that is in the strictest literal sense and not in the conventional, sloppy sun-reader, sensationalist parlance that sells headlines.”

“What do you mean by that?”

Callie sighed impatiently.

“Oh come on Dr Arnold, you know exactly what I mean. Phobia is more a rational fear not an irrational hatred!”

“Can you give any reasons?”

“Yes, take a walk with me around the campus and check out the looks I get from ethnic students now that the sensationalist rags have splashed my transgenderism all over the media since the trial. You'll see the reasons and hear them and occasionally feel them! Especially after dark.”

The professor felt forced to intervene.

“Are you serious Miss Denton? Here – in Cambridge?”

“It's not a function of intellect professor, it's a function of culture. They've been brought up to believe their bullshit literally and that means many would prefer to see me dead.”

“I am definitely justified in fearing them and reasonably justified in hating them except I don't let my feelings run away with me.”

Dr Arnold was squinting thoughtfully as he sensed the girl was on the verge of giving something away but the professor inadvertently created an escape route. Callie had decided she had said enough and was not going to reveal any more.

“If you've nothing more to ask, might I be allowed to leave now?”

“Well, we haven't discussed the real reason you're here, namely algorithms.”

“Another day perhaps professor.” I've had enough of unfounded accusations. Just leave me your written intentions and I'll deliver what I can when I can.”

She stood up and moved towards the door to test their intentions. Nothing happened as she grasped the door handle so she apologised for the impasse and left.

“Well! What d'you think of her? 'Q' asked the American.

“She's a strong willed individual.”

“She's one tough kid!” The professor added. “Not surprising seeing as what she's been through. For any kid to surmount her transgender problems at school and then still get into Cambridge is the mark of one determined little cookie.”

“I still think she's the mole.” Dr Arnold insisted.

“Well even if she is,” the professor argued, “she's causing the Saudi's more problems than us and if somehow she did report in the attack at the Gare-du-Nord then surely she's on our side.
“But what else does she know, what else isn't she telling us?”

“I'd just be thankful for small mercies, 'Q' insisted, “if she's on our side, then she'll most likely tell us the next time if there is a next time.”

“I'd dearly like to know what she knows. If you'd let me lean on her just that little bit more, -”

“I think the words kill, goose, gold and eggs spring to mind here,” the professor cautioned. After all, she's made no secret of her feelings towards the religion of her attacker, if that is all that concerns her then lets leave it there.”

“And if she was the one that sent me that disc,” 'Q' declared, “then long may she continue. So far she's done nothing that would indicate a danger. At least not to the UK.”

“Well,” Dr Arnold surmised. “I still have reservations about an individual who won't come clean and I'd advise you Brits to be on your guard concerning her.

Some weeks later, 'Q' received another disc that proved to be a golden nugget. A massive truck bomb bound for Basrah central market square in Iraq was thwarted on a seemingly random desert security stop. Fortunately the joint patrol had been secretly forewarned and in the nick of time, the Iraqi platoon and four American Marines escaped with their lives, - just!. The crater in the desert road exceeded fifty metres diameter.

A series of brief, secret and amusing but ironic exchanges between UK and US security forces touched upon desert moles and transatlantic phobias but Callie was thereafter left strictly alone.

Two more well organised terrorist attacks were intercepted before Callie finally completed her university career and then the unproven mole seemed to disappear as Callie and Maggie went down from their respective colleges for the last time to pick up their lives as Duke and soon-to-be Duchess of Denton Hall.

Heir to a Title Chapter 33.

Characters.
Ellie. (Eleanor) The prime Character.
Bill (William) her father, (obviously) Callie (Callista) Ellie’s only daughter. Initially Callum - a transgendered son.
Charlotte. (Nana) Ellie’s Paternal Grandmother
Sandie (Sandra) Ellie’s Older Aunt
Rosie (Rose) Ellie’s Younger Aunt
Henry Ellie’s boyfriend and husband. (Second son of the Duke of Denton)
Molly Duchess of Denton. Henry’s mother.
Bev (Beverly) Ellie’s aunt (Previously Uncle Bernard and brother to her dad.)
Jennifer. (Jennie) Beverly's older adopted daughter.
Beatrice (Bea) Beverly's younger adopted daughter.
Lucy, Henry’s oldest niece, Callum’s cousin.
Eleanor, Henry’s middle niece Callum’s cousin. Same name as Ellie.
Virginia Henry’s youngest niece Callum’s cousin
Julie Ellie’s sister-in-law.
Angela(Angie) Beverly’s wife (kidnapped by pirates and rescued.)
Megan Beverly’s only blood daughter by Angela.
Margaret Arnold.(Maggie) Callie's best female friend. (Eventually to become wife.)
Jane Arnold, Maggie's mother.
James Denton (The Ferrety Denton) Callie's ambitious, uncle.
Uncle Phillip Arnold American Relation (CIA)

Heir to a Title 33

“How many!!!!!?” Callie gasped.

“Three hundred and fifty! At least.” Ellie replied glancing nervously towards her mother in law Molly Denton, the Grand Dowager Duchess of Denton.

“I don't belieeve it!” Maggie squawked in 'Victor Meldrew' style.

“That'll fill half the hotels from here to Harrogate” Callie protested. “Are you agreeable to this?” she asked Jane Arnold - Maggie's mother.

“Well I am somewhat shocked but your great Aunt Beverly insists. She's got all her family from down Dorset way plus a host of business associates that she and your mother Ellie feel should be invited.

“Yes but the cost!” Maggie almost shrieked.

“Yes!!!” Callie agreed, “Where can both families find that sort of money, at a hundred quid a plate that's thirty-five-grand just for the wedding breakfast. God knows what all the other stuff will cost. Are we paying for the hotel bills?”

“Well your maths degree serves you well then,” a familiar voice replied as it's owner arrived to join the discussion.

Callie turned to meet and then leap forward to hug her great Aunt Beverly.

“I wasn't expecting you Auntie Bev.”

She continued hugging her great Aunt whilst turning to Ellie. Did you know Mummy?”

“Yes, she told me she was in Hull on business so I invited her over. Tell her Aunty.”

After completing the greetings and accepting a cup of coffee, Beverly explained.

“Well if you and Maggie don't object to me interfering with the most important day of your lives, I'm in the fortunate position to stand the cost of the food and entertainment by calling the wedding a business conference purely for tax purposes. I'd like to invite about a couple of dozen close business associates and their wives then the rest of the guest list is down to Jane and Ellie, your respective mothers. Besides, Ellie knows most of them and counts them amongst her friends anyway. She meets them regularly in Hull, Dublin, Belfast, Rotterdam, Hamburg, Tangiers, Oporto and Poole in her capacity as my girl Friday with the shipping business.”

“And the county will be well represented by mine and Molly's friends,” Jane Arnold explained.

“They will all be expecting invites and Auntie Beverly has agreed.” The Grand Duchess Molly added.

Callie and Maggie exchanged excited glances as the dawning pierced through their reservations. Then Callie's parsimony forced it's way to the surface.

“So what about the hotel bills?”

Beverly explained further to her concerned great niece.

“The shipping representatives will claim hotel expenses on their respective expense accounts and most of the Yorkshire county people will only have to make a day visit of it. They account for the bulk of the guests.

Only Maggie's American cousins and your Dorset relations will stay over at Denton Hall which can accommodate about forty or fifty at a push. My guess is that only about hundred other guests will need hotels. I've organised a deal with the hotel I use regularly on my shipping company account. We're looking at about five or six grand for the one night. That's about fifty quid a night which includes bed and breakfast, all en-suite. They were more than pleased because the booking is in May which is still pretty much the low season.”

Maggie and Callie breathed a collective sigh of relief as they began to see light at the end of the financial tunnel.
“So now it remains for the brides and the mothers of the brides to get down to the organisation.” Maggie concluded as she slumped into one of the comfy armchairs.

“Well thank goodness there's two brides and two mothers!” Jane Arnold chuckled.

This remark raised the level of gaiety and Beverly silently hugged herself that her generous offer had been well received. As mothers and brides started to toss ideas across the room, she and the Grand Duchess Molly Denton retired to a 'snug' and reminisced while also swapping ideas.

“Are there any special rules or conventions that need to be address when a Duke gets wed?” Beverly asked. Molly.

“That's an interesting one,” Molly confessed, “and I have to say I've no idea how Callie's arms will be displayed. Maggie has no nobility so fortunately the children will only share Callie's arms. However, I've no idea how her gender issues might affect any later developments but for now, her arms remain the same. Of course the marriage has to be registered in the heraldic record and that's going to be an interesting first what with both of them being brides. I'm secretly relieved that Callie has decided to delay her op until Maggie gives her at least two children. It completely puts the kibosh to the Ferret's ambitions. More coffee?”

For long moments the pair stared into the cosy flames of the only real fire in the whole house and they were actually snoozing when Callie found them.

“Gosh Granny, Auntie! No wonder they call this place the snug. Are you sure you're warm enough?” She grinned sarcastically.

“Very comfortable thank darling, what d'you want?”

“Just a few pointers about old family traditions. Something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue; all that sort of stuff, you know - traditional bouquets, which carriages if any, which horses and so on. You know what the county set are like, half of them will probably turn up on bloody horses anyway, - and blowing hunting horns or something daft.”

“Well join us in here,” Molly instructed them, “it's far more convivial.”

Taking the 'olds' at their word, the snug became 'snugger' as six females squeezed together in the tiny room and finalised the initial wedding plans. Naturally some things would need re-arranging later but the bare bones of the event were set. The next item was the date and naturally, this fell to Maggie. Then the venues were discussed and both 'olds' were deferred to in their wish to have the couple 'churched'. Neither Maggie nor Callie were bothered by this for both were indifferent to religion, but if it pleased the 'olds' then 'let it be' was the byword. In any case, the local village church was deemed to be 'picture-postcard' scene and an excellent photographic backdrop.

Four weeks later, invitations were sent out for the wedding and soon, all telephones were red hot. The following May, Some ten months later, the day was set.

~ooo000ooo~

“That's their plane isn't it?” Maggie wondered aloud.

“Air Canada, yes, that's probably the one, it's right on time so that'll be the Canadian branch. United's plane arrives at eleven thirty, so we've got a couple of hours. It'll be dead boring just hanging around the airport so why don't you take them into town then I'll follow with the Yanks and we can meet up at King's Cross before going north.”

“Auntie Beverly's Doresetshire gang are also catching the two o'clock so we will all meet up though Bev's coming up later on Thursday by car. She'll be bringing Grandpa Bill.”

“Well, two hours on the train will give them all a chance for everybody to get to know each other.. It won't be boring and we've reserved seats on the fourth coach. We'll probably have the whole coach to ourselves.”

With the arrangements made and not a little mobile chatter, three groups met on the crowded, noisy concourse of King's Cross station. Luggage and passengers were eventually loaded and full introductions were completed in the calm of the coach. Callie did not wish to be way-laid by Dr Phillip Arnold, the CIA agent so she perambulated up and down the coach making introductions as and where she thought fit. There were several instances where the younger children embarrassed their parents by asking Callie if she was really a boy or a girl. Thus proving to Callie that the issue was still a cause for discussion in some parts of the family. Her response was simply to smile before explaining that she was transgendered. It worked whilst also serving to break a lot of ice as she explained what 'transgendered' meant to the children – and some adults.

It being May and therefore the end of spring and start of summer it, was inevitably raining when the train glided into York. Eventually the sun chose to make an appearance as the convoy of minibuses skirted Denton moor. As a shaft of sunlight broke through the clouds it illuminated Denton Hall just as the convoy arrived at the estate.

“Is that auspicious or what?” One of the American mothers asked as ooohs and aaahs emanated from the various vehicles.

“Gosh girl, you're darned lucky to be marrying into all this!” Another guest remarked to Maggie.

“It's not all a bowl of roses,” Maggie replied, “I've seen how hard Callie works to keep the estate viable. When she took over, things were going to rack and ruin. There's still a lot to do. After the wedding, the house re-opens to the public even while we're on our honeymoon.”

A thoughtful silence descended on the visitors in Maggie's minibus until it scrunched to a halt beside the others at the main entrance. Then the hubbub and commotion of organising rooms took over as several of the regular house guides pitched in to show people to their rooms. As they were led away, Callie made it her personal business to give each family an envelope with information about meal times and general organisation around the house. Amidst all the turmoil the caterers were busying themselves with decorating the house and getting the food ready.

For this, the main kitchens, that had not been used since the old duke had died, were brought to life for the weekend. Fortunately their modernisation, in preparation for opening the house to visitors, had recently been completed and the wedding was the baptism of fire. By dinner time the house was ringing to chatter and merriment as house guests explored both house, gardens and estate.

Then, at precisely seven pm, the ancient estate work bell was rung above the stable block to call everybody in for dinner. At seven thirty over sixty guests, all family members of Callie or Maggie, were sat down to enjoy the first round of hospitality. Once seated, Callie explained the itinerary for the weekend and pointed to a large temporary notice board that was to be located in the entrance hall.
“This will be positioned by the front door so everybody can look at it. I think you'll be aware by now that this is a large event with over three hundred guests arriving on Saturday and it will take some organising. Any changes in that organisation will be posted on this board by the front door. The catering manager or one of her go-fors, will be on hand all Saturday in the hall by the front door, to help people. Right everybody, tuck in.”
The next morning was Friday and the marquee was set up on the main lawn. Meal places were set and it was the last part Maggie or Callie would have to play in organising the wedding. The caterers took over that afternoon. That evening a large party was organised for family guests staying at the house and the main ball-room rang to the sound of music and chatter. At midnight by pre-arrangement, all festivities ceased. Saturday was to be a big day and the brides needed their sleep. Callie and Jane Arnold saw Maggie safely to bed then Callie scuttled barefoot along the cold marble floor to her own main bedroom.
As she pattered softly around the corner she thought she saw a figure just disappearing down the long corridor and rounding the corner where the main corridor turned down the West wing of the house. She thought little of it however for the house was full of people finding their way to their designated bedrooms. She even bumped into great Auntie Beverly just as she was entering her bedroom.
“Excited?” Beverly asked.

Callie nodded and smiled. “Is there anything I should be asking you Auntie Bev, what with you being like me?”

“Bit late for that now darling, all I can suggest is that you get a good night's sleep. You've got a diamond in that girl so you make sure you look after her.”

As an affectionate 'thank you', Callie stretched her neck and pursed her lips expectantly so Beverly gave her a peck on the cheek.

“Aaww! I was hoping for a bit more than that.” Callie pouted.

“Lips are for lovers darling, remember that.” She then wrapped her arms tightly around her young great niece and added. “Hugs are for friendship so there.”

Callie returned the hug and whispered. “Thanks Auntie Bev, good night.”

When she entered her bedroom she noticed that the corner gorbal door was closed and she was sure she had left it ajar. This was because when the wind blew across the moor and around the house, the eddies around the protruding gorbal window caused the door to rattle as air-pressure changed with the draughts. The door either slammed shut then rattled in its door frame or it banged against its hinges so the trick was always to wedge the door about six inches open and the draughts could breath freely without disturbing the door.

She looked down to push the wedge under the door but it was not in it's usual place. It had been moved, probably kicked, into the corner under her little computer desk. Now she knew somebody had been in her bedroom and the shadowy figure in the corridor took on a more sinister portent. That night for the first time, she locked her bedroom door. The very idea that there might be somebody snooping around her house made her angry for she had a good idea who it might be.
“Do I really have to install a security camera in my own bedroom?” She wondered as she slid between the cool sheets and 'star fished' for what might well be the last time. The idea of sharing her bed pleased her and she hugged the pillow as a substitute for the real thing.
An urgent knocking on the bedroom door disturbed her morning ablutions and she called out to the culprit to wait. Finally she unlocked the door to find her mother, Ellie standing with a impatient smile and arms full of silk.
“Why did you lock the door? You've never done that before!”
Callie ushered her in and whispered, “ Shhh, there was a visitor in here last evening while we were partying.”
Ellie's eyes widened, she didn't like secrets in the house, even a house as large as Denton Hall
“Who?”
“That's the million dollar question.” Callie replied. “While I'm on holiday I'd like you to keep my room, our room, that is Mine and Maggie's room locked at all times. I've got a good idea who it is but for the moment, 'no - names - no - pack – drill'.”

“Okay, but I'm afraid we cant do anything about it now young lady, we've got a bride to prepare.”

“Really. Did you think I'd forgotten mummy?”

“Don't get sarky with me young lady, just remember, I'm the mother of the bride.”

“So is Auntie Jane.”

“Yes, that's one heck of a break with tradition.”

“What about the other tradition?”

“What's that?” Ellie frowned.

“The one about the spouse seeing the bridal dress before the ceremony.”

“Let's not get ahead of ourselves, that's one superstition too far.” No, you're not seeing Maggie's dress before the wedding. Best you arrive at the church first then Maggie can do the bridal march. Give her that pleasure at least.”

“That's what we've agreed anyway. Though I know what dress she's wearing it's virtually identical to mine.”

“Yes, but you've not seen it on her and that's the superstition part. Just make sure you leave before her from the west door and she can leave from the main door.”

“Ha! I'm the duke of Denton Hall and I have to leave by the side door of my own home. That's another fine kettle of fish I've gotten myself into.” She flicked the ribbon of her nightie in a typical 'Laurel and Hardy' gesture. Ellie giggled and told her to calm down.

“Come on, lets get you to the hair-dresser she's downstairs.”

“Won't Maggie be there?”

“You can see each other in your petty coats it's the dresses that the superstition affects.”

“Huh, that's your interpretation. I'll wait until Callie's done, besides I don't want to spoil the sexy underwear bit on our honeymoon night.”

“As you wish. So I suggest you go and bathe. Maggie's been up since six and it's now half past seven.”
Callie flipped off her nightie without a thought about nudity in front of her mum and trotted into the shower. Ellie smiled as she saw all Callie's appendages bouncing incongruously.

“Only a mother could love a daughter like her,” Ellie told herself as she turned to unpack the underwear and sexy basque. “She'll be glad to get these off tonight,” Ellie grinned as she held them against herself and savoured ancient memories.

As she realised the garments would actually fit her she grinned again.

“You've still got it Ellie Denton.” She told herself.

By ten o'clock both brides were ready and the carriages were respectively lined up at the appropriate doors to arrive at the little village church by eleven. The Moment Callie and her Auntie Bev had cleared the main gates Maggie started up the drive accompanied by her dad. Both coachmen were under instructions to remain out of sight of each other and the preparations went reasonably smoothly. Callie was 'given away' by her Great Aunt Beverly because she was deemed the nearest thing to a father having once been one, while of course Maggie did the full traditional thing with her real dad. The alter scene presented a somewhat unusual assembly to any conventional church-goers but the celebratory mood put paid to any reservations that some of them might have had. The rest of the wedding proceeded in the full traditional style as the newly wedded pair thanked their good fortune that the day had stayed sunny until the wedding breakfast commenced. The meals and indoor festivities remained unaffected by the evening showers and by midnight, the festivities were over.

Callie and Maggie spent their honeymoon night in the master suite at Denton hall and only departed for the holiday on Sunday morning. The wisdom of this decision was made clear when they arrived bright-eyed and bushy tailed at the airport.

Back at Denton Hall, the family guests were availing themselves of the facilities offered by the house and the county of Yorkshire but Phillip Arnold, the CIA uncle was chagrined to learn that the master bedroom door in Denton Hall was firmly locked. Furthermore, Callie had left her vitally secret discs and lap-top in a secret location, far from Denton Hall. Uncle Phillip Arnold, Maggie's CIA relative was left to stew throughout the newly-wed's extended holiday.
There are however, many different types and ways to conduct surveillance and the CIA are masters of most of them. Most but not all. Working on secondment to GCHQ, Phillip Arnold was using every asset available to him to try and break into Callie's computers. Eventually he felt he had penetrated deeply enough to lay some virus born probes that would be enacted when Callie returned from her honeymoon to switch her computers on.
With the help of agents working at their embassy, the CIA even managed to embed some sophisticated phone taps on the various phone lines connecting the hall to the outside world.

When she returned home to take up her new roll as manager of the Denton estate, the instant she booted up her computers, the authorities in the USA and GCHQ were alerted and surveillance started in earnest. The traffic they monitored served to confirm that Miss Denton was certainly monitoring security activity in Saudi Arabia but her encrypted devices were proving impossible to crack. After a month of intensive observation Doctor Arnold was forced to concede to his British counterparts.
“She's using encryption devices that we are having trouble unscrambling. Have you guys any idea where she's getting her equipment?”
“Are you monitoring her online purchasing accounts?” 'Q' suggested. “They might give some inkling as to where she's sourcing her hardware. And by the way, we received another warning this morning, usual route but sourced in Iran this time thence to South Africa thence via Morocco to us in Cheltenham.”
“Is it plausible, does it ring true.”
“It's got the same password, as all the others. An encrypted version of the entire Koran with some exquisite deviations that vary with every warning. We invariably have to wait several days before the sender delivers the key. A sentence that has been deliberately altered so it would then be considered blasphemous by any standard and we have to locate the correct version in the Koran.”
“Does that mean you have to employ Koranic scholars to locate the key quickly?”
“It means more than that, we have to employ Koranic Scholars who have a good understanding of the 'Vetus iter lingua Bedouin', and even theirs is not perfect.”

Dr Arnold frowned as he contemplated the implications.

“Do you have such translators or scholars, are they loyal?”

'Q' made a wry expression as she explained.

“We only give them a few specific sentences so as not to compromise our unknown source. If they knew that we have a source that has a better understanding of 'Vetus iter lingua Bedouin' than they. That information would get back to Saudi faster than light. Even now, they are curious as to what it's all about. Believe me Phillip, only you and I and a couple of my most trusted cryptographers are a party to this business and even now, none of us know for certain if 'you-know-who' is the mole.”

Dr Arnold pursed his lips thoughtfully.

“Her security devices work on so many levels. She's a clever bitch.”

“Yeah, let's just be thankful she's our bitch – and by that I include you in 'our'.

“Well tomorrow, we are bringing in some more powerful computers and we should hopefully have tapped into her messages. Then it's matter of what languages she's using.”

“I don't think she'll be receiving any important stuff down her own phones.”

“The following morning, GCHQ and the CIA got their first tiny breakthrough.
Their new, more powerful phone-tap had proved itself operational when a brief message was intercepted. Unfortunately it was in an encrypted form of 'Vetus iter lingua Bedouin'. 'Q' cursed softly when she realised that they would need a virtual 'Vetus iter lingua Bedouin' dictionary and a comprehensive knowledge of the grammar to de-crypt it. 'Q' explained to her colleague.

“All we know for certain is that this information came originally from Fortress Saud.”

“And we dare'nt approach them for any information about 'Vetus iter lingua Bedouin' because they would immediately smell a rat.”

Dr Arnold replied as he cursed with frustration.

“Was there no other comprehensive source for this language?” He pressed.

“Not that we know of. Though it seems that Mr or Ms Mole got to the Sanaa library before the Saudi's destroyed it, He or she might have the only copy now though where it's stored is anybody's guess. The worst of it is that the grammar and stuff probably exists in the oral tradition.”

“Well, we're working on hacking into her computers but it's going to be slow.” Dr Arnold conceded. “And if she's smart, she'll probably have any information about 'Vetus iter lingua Bedouin' locked away on a stand-alone computer.”

“She's smart.” 'Q' confirmed. “She'll have all her source material and contact stuff well away from the internet. What intrigues me is who's her contact inside Fortress Saudi?”

“She may not have one, she might have located a portal.”

“Well if she has, there must be an electronic trail.”

“There is,” Phillip Arnold confirmed, “but it's like trying to track a single gazelle's tracks at the water-hole after herds of wildebeest, zebras, buffalo and elephants have trampled over it. Maybe one hoof-print in fifty acres of muddy spoor.”

Frustrated by the lack of progress the pair retired to the canteen for coffee. Whilst they were drinking, the tiny breakthrough occurred.

Deep inside Fortress Saudi a tired operative accidentally released some vital information to a friend's computer in Riyadh University without realising what he'd done. The friend, not realising the importance of the information, messaged another friend who was a victim of the harsh Saudi Sharia laws. This friend was secretly a Shia Muslim who detested the Saudi Sunni regime so he immediately despatched it, unencrypted to some friends in Tehran. The original message contained a reference to 'Abdul', Callie's attacker, so inevitably a copy of the message was picked up by Callie's infiltration system inside Fortress Saudi.

The message was also picked up by an American spy satellite for it contained trigger words. Information in the message clearly alluded to a terrorist attack but dates, locations and instigators were vague, not however, too vague to be useless. The American spying network was directed to monitor the message and it's sources for some vital computer code clearly sourced the message originally from inside Fortress Saudi.

For a week, nothing came of it until another terrorist warning duly arrived on 'Q's desk with precise details of the same attack. The fact that the second message contained lots more information and because a part of the two messages contained part of the same source code, told 'Q' and Phillip Arnold that the friendly mole had definitely penetrated Fortress Saudi's innermost defences which neither the CIA, nor GCHQ nor indeed any other agency had come near to doing.

Phillip Arnold's respect for the mole grew exponentially as did his determination to emulate her – for he was now convinced it was a 'her'.

The terrorist attack, planned for a festival in Germany, was duly intercepted and averted. A truck bomb with some fifteen tons of high grade military explosive had been found while the source and financing of the explosives was traced..

This time, thanks to the earlier slip-up inside Fortress Saudi and the satellite interception, the Americans were able to confront the Saudis with Prima Fascia evidence of financial involvement and support.

That same Arab-American confrontation was detected by Callie's electronic sources and duly relayed via 'Vetus iter lingua Bedouin' to her computers. Callie was chagrined to learn that the American protest amounted to little more than a 'slap-on-the-wrist'. It seemed that the USA was quite prepared to continue with friendship to a state that was becoming daily more murderous than Genghis Khan.

“So much for the price of oil.” She told herself as she contemplated the ghastly truth that the USA considered her alliance with Saudi Arabia to be more valuable than an unknown number of innocent German party-goers. Her interceptions of the follow-up communications gave her details of the Anglo-American estimate of approximately one hundred to two hundred possible deaths based on the truck bomb's proximity to the festival crowds whilst the estimates for injured ranged from four hundred to a thousand.

Three weeks later, -( Callie was nothing if not patient )– a letter arrived on 'Q's desk. It advised her that because insufficient action had been taken against the instigators of the attack, the author of the note was writing to say that no further information or assistance would be forthcoming to GCHQ or the CIA.

Three months later, another truck bomb exploded at a religious festival on the river Ganges where over a million Hindu worshippers were gathering to bathe. It killed over a thousand people and injured thousands more. Callie was so angry about the Saudi-American alliance that she prepared another long letter to 'Q' describing details of the attack that only an insider could know. The letter once again served to idenify and indeed locate the bombers but 'Q' knew in her heart that had things been right with the unknown mole, the whole atrocity could have been averted. That fact alone served to emphasise what GCHQ and the CIA had lost.

Heir to a Title 34

Characters.
Ellie. (Eleanor) The prime Character.
Bill (William) her father, (obviously) Callie (Callista) Ellie’s only daughter. Initially Callum - a transgendered son.
Charlotte. (Nana) Ellie’s Paternal Grandmother
Sandie (Sandra) Ellie’s Older Aunt
Rosie (Rose) Ellie’s Younger Aunt
Henry Ellie’s boyfriend and husband. (Second son of the Duke of Denton)
Molly Duchess of Denton. Henry’s mother.
Bev (Beverly) Ellie’s aunt (Previously Uncle Bernard and brother to her dad.)
Jennifer. (Jennie) Beverly's older adopted daughter.
Beatrice (Bea) Beverly's younger adopted daughter.
Lucy, Henry’s oldest niece, Callum’s cousin.
Eleanor, Henry’s middle niece Callum’s cousin. Same name as Ellie.
Virginia Henry’s youngest niece Callum’s cousin
Julie Ellie’s sister-in-law.
Angela(Angie) Beverly’s wife (kidnapped by pirates and rescued.)
Megan Beverly’s only blood daughter by Angela.
Margaret Arnold.(Maggie) Callie's best female friend. (Eventually to become wife.)
Jane Arnold, Maggie's mother.
James Denton (The Ferrety Denton) Callie's ambitious, uncle.
Uncle Phillip Arnold American Relation (CIA)

“Damn it Phil!” 'Q' swore down the phone. 'Now we've lost one of our best informers! Your side could have done a bit more to accommodate her feelings about all this.'

'You don't understand what I'm up against here.” Phillip Arnold protested. “The firm don't take kindly to somebody who remains anonymous because she doesn't like America.”

“Who told you that?!” 'Q' almost screeched down the phone.

“She's made it obvious with some of her comments in the notes she sends you. Why cant she send them to us as well. She knows perfectly well that you forward them on to us word for word, warts and all.”

“But you were still getting the information, surely that was enough. Look at what she does, not what she says. Deeds count for more than words! Now nobody's getting any information and we're all swimming in a pond of shit again.”

Phil Arnold sighed wearily.

“Look 'Q' what you have to realise is that we share a table with some pretty crummy agencies up on the hill. Most notably the homeland security people. They seem to think that anybody who's not with us is agin' us. Think George Dub-yah and his band of yahoos. They don't seem to understand the concepts of neutrality or even that the US can be seen as something flawed and not to be wholly trusted; not to mention faulted. One or two even bitched about her transgenderism when I reluctantly described who I suspected.

One idiot even described it as un-American! He thought it was a security risk just like the old days with gays. I tell you 'Q' this particular guy is as thick as pig-shit but he's a political appointee from the red-neck ranks of the Senate. Sadly, the whole bloody table have to put up with him. Old Senator McCarthy's got nothing compared to this twat. It's got to the stage were the firm is reluctant to reveal all it knows to the president's committee and that's fucking with our effectiveness, not to mention efficiency.

The FBI have told us they find themselves in the same boat with this bloody fool. They were investigating some crimes in Georgia and Florida that they knew for certain were were racially based. Yet they still met with all sorts of obstruction from his state house and it-came-from-the-highest-state-legislature-level! They know this from their own sources which I'll not dwell upon here..

Honestly girl, when I step into that room and look around the table, he and a couple of others remind me of the Jurassic era.”

'Q' had to suppress a smile as she pictured the scene for she had occasionally been a guest at that 'table-on-the-hill' and she had now been invited again to explain why and how their anonymous source had dried up. Her explanations would give power to Phil's elbow and might even re-shape the presidential security committee. She chatted for another hour with her American counterpart as they discussed several options and a workable way forward.

~~ooo000ooo~~

Having ceased to provide information to GCHQ did not mean Callie had stopped monitoring the Saudi fortress. Her portal still remained open but she began to wonder for how long. If the Americans responded to her objections and acted more strongly against Saudi Arabia by providing further proof of Arabian complicity then they might inadvertently reveal that they had access to an inside line to the fortress.

Then the Saudis would tighten up their security and possibly find, then close her portal either by accident or design. For the young newly-wed, it was a fearful conundrum.
She had to keep that portal open to maintain her surveillance of 'Abdul' for she still felt her life would be threatened by him again. Her monitoring of his email accounts still demonstrated that 'Abdul' had not forgotten nor forgiven the six month sentence he had endured in Reading Jail. His various comments showed he was still bent on retribution.

What was worse was that she had nobody to confide in, nowhere to look for advice. The secrets of her access to the Saudi fortress had to remain hers and hers alone. She reflected on the old adage; a secret is not a secret once two people know about it.

A month later, after another terrorist attack in the People's republic of China, followed by ferocious blood-lettings by government reprisals, Callie's computers warned of another terrorist attack. This time it was against a Gay pride parade much closer to home in Manchester, England. Callie knew lots of her friends from all over the north of England would be attending.

She cursed as she studied the data, especially when she discovered some further information that made her blood boil. 'Abdul' her abuser had apparently gained employment within the Saudi intelligence organisation.

The information at first made her angry as she wondered how a convicted criminal could find themselves in such a sensitive position, then, on reflecting how nepotism and corruption were the very essence of Saudi government. She cursed the fact that 'Abdul' was after all, a royal prince, but worse than that was that he now had the power to organise an attack against her without implicating himself. Realising his personality flaws, she was fully cognoscente of what evil he could do and she started searching for further routes into Fortress Saudi while she considered what benefits she could gain from this development.

The man had already proven that he was impulsive and not very bright. The contents of his private emails already told Callie that for she had virtually unrestricted access to them thanks to his carelessness. . For him to have gained a post in the Saudi intelligence branch by dint of nepotism meant that he had a long tail, and it wasn't long before Callie identified the tail as Abdul's uncle, one of the Saudi Defence chiefs. She quietly congratulated herself as yet another of the labyrinthine, government, corruption trails emerged.

“Gotcha you bastard! Now how best to use the information?” She wondered, “And if her efforts somehow compromised that particular defence chief, then so much the better. The perpetual internecine warfare amongst the Saud royal family would quickly escalate into another fratricidal feud.

For the time being however, it was more important for her to protect her friends so she was forced to cancel her resolution about contacting GCHQ. A long letter containing the most detailed information duly appeared unexpectedly on 'Q's desk the following Monday. It was very lucky break for 'Q' was due before the US Senate security committee on the Tuesday and she had only stopped by to tie up a couple of loose ends before driving to Heathrow. for the evening flight to Washington.

She almost wet her knickers when she read the letter and immediately contacted her CIA colleague. He was ecstatic with the information she revealed for it helped his case enormously.

“Bring it to the committee and anything else you've got girl.”

“I'll run it by the PM first.”

“By all means.”

Permission was duly granted almost immediately and 'Q' joined the early evening flight feeling cock-a-hoop. Phillip Armstrong met her at Washington airport and whisked her to his office late that night. Together they ran the information through his computers and concluded that the information was indeed dynamite.

The next morning a slightly bleary eyed, jet-lagged 'Q' joined the Americans around the Jurassic table as it had come to be known – secretly - amongst CIA and FBI members.

Firstly she decided to hit the committee with their secret mole's reasons (for they all by now knew that 'Q' and Phil Arnold alone might know her identity) for resuming communications. 'Q' elaborated.

“Firstly gentlemen, she feared for the lives of her personal friends in the LGBT community and I might add that treatment of transgendered people in certain parts of your country -(Here she glanced pointedly at the prime dinosaur) – is an issue she feels strongly about.

I will confirm to you here and now that we are sure that my and Phillip's contact is indeed a transsexual. In the letter before you she clearly writes that she hopes her resumption of communications will perhaps lead some senators to soften their attitudes to the transgendered community. She hopes you can cut a deal on this issue but that is not the main argument. Just remember gentlemen some of you around this table will be, as she sees it, on probation. You can clearly see that she writes that lavatorial laws and other such nonsense should be re-considered.

Secondly gentlemen she is wounded that your government is prepared to deal so agreeably with a tyrannical government that to her and her sisters is very nadir of tolerance and reason. Unless she can see in the future, some stance by your people against the persecution of LGBT people in Saudi and other Islamic countries, then the information flow will close again.

Let's not forget that she has accomplished what we, you, the Russians and everybody else have failed to do, namely break their code based upon a dead language for which only she has a workable lexicon. The Saudi's bombed the ancient library in Sanaa and unwittingly destroyed the only known written version. Now only our secret contact has the only viable, workable dictionary and that is most probably encrypted on her off-line laptop.

There is no dead-wood version and we have no idea where she keeps her version or other sensitive material.

Thirdly, as she writes in the letter, she has used this opportunity to reinforce her feelings that the LGBT community counts, just like black lives count. She feels very guilty that she allowed a thousand Indians to die on the banks of the Ganges but it was to demonstrate the extent of her anger and frustration at the United States relationship with a Saudi government that she detests and fears. I might add here and now that her fears are justified.

She lives daily in fear of reprisals from her attacker when she was at college. He was recently promoted to a junior defence minister in Saudi Arabia and that information wounds her. A convicted sex abuser thrives to threaten her life again for he still enjoys considerable resources. She is offended and frightened by that.

She suggests, as she puts it in the letter, that she might prove to the Indian government that the attack was known about and organised from Saudi. Let's not forget that two senior figures in the Indian Parliament were killed. She will leave it to the Indian government to draw their own conclusions as to why the western intelligence services did not warn them in time .
Even though it had nothing to do with our activities, we all know that the Indians will probably get two and two to make five and blame us.”

'Q' put the paper down and removed her glasses as she rubbed her forehead.

“I think you'll agree gentlemen that the Indian government will probably draw the conclusions that we in Britain or you guys held back the information for fear of compromising British or American intelligence sources. We would have hell's delight trying to persuade them otherwise and as you know we are close to bringing India back into the west's fold. Militarily, India is a far more important ally to the west than Saudi could ever be and it's growing as a trading block faster that China. Furthermore it is a democracy and those are few on the ground in Asia.

In conclusion gentlemen, I wouldn't say she has the whip hand but she makes some very valid points. We in Britain are beginning to take seriously the export of radical fundamentalist Imams from Saudi to Europe.”

She put down her notes along with the original copy of the letter and sat back. It was in the hands of the Americans now though she couldn't help but notice one red-neck senator looking distinctly uncomfortable. All around the table committee members were reading and re-reading their photo-copies of the letter thoughtfully.

Finally a naval admiral took a deep breath and opened the discussion.

“It's going to involve a lot of discussions and politicking. There's a lot of vested interests on the hill.”

'Q' nodded silently before adding - “And a lot of innocent lives at stake, not to mention our soldiers and yours. Don't forget her warning that saved those US troops at the road block in Iraq. That was a tiny operation that would ordinarily have remained a tight secret within the Saudi defence ministry but her reach went deep enough to expose it. You may not like that she wishes not to be officially adopted by us or you, but she's still helping us, or more correctly helping innocent people from all over the world.

She doesn't give a toss for American or British interests around the world but she does care about innocent lives. I get the feeling she's remorseful about the Ganges affair.”

“So she bloody should be,” the admiral concurred.

“But we precipitated that in some part,' Phillip Arnold conceded, “if you remember that a few months ago there was a lot said about 'If yer not for us, yer agin us'. She was stung by that for while she may be with us on the terrorism thing, she's furiously Anti-American on some bible-belted transgender issues.

The homeland security faction all turned red with embarrassment as Phillip continued.

“She would seem to have a broader take on terrorism and we have to acknowledge that.”

“She has no right to judge us!” The red-neck Senator protested.

“It's only in her own mind Senator, who are we; the thought police?” 'Q' riposted.

“But it's the consequences of her judgement that irks me. Who the hell is she to act so high-handedly when we are elected representatives?”

“That's the reality Senator,” Phillip Arnold replied. “Real politick is what the Germans call it. We have to play the hand we've got.”

“And change our laws.” I'll be damned if I will!”

'Q' turned to Phillip and rolled her eyes. It seemed the senator was incapable of learning. She turned and smiled disingenuously.

“Are not those laws somewhat unconstitutional Senator, you know, life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. If an individual cannot make a call of nature in peace and safety then they wouldn't be very happy. If that denial is legislated for then it must be unconstitutional.”

“That's up to the supreme court.” The senator blustered.

'Q' shrugged slowly but significantly.

“Have we got that sort of time? Glaciers move faster than the supreme court.”

Then an army general demonstrated some real pragmatism.

“Ladies, gentlemen might I make a suggestion here?”

“Go ahead general.” The chairman allowed.

He nodded with satisfaction as he offered his idea.

“There's a case about all this transgender stuff coming before the supreme court in about a month. Do you think if we somehow enlightened the judges about this Saudi business, it might move them sufficiently to vote against the bill. D' you think it's worth a go?”

“That'd be risky General. They're pretty crafty, these judges and they'd smell a rat if we made it too obvious.” The Chairman opined.

A deep silence settled on the room until 'Q' spoke softly.

“One of those supreme justices, Ramoza, is travelling to a convention in Toronto next week. There will also be British judges present and one of them, Lady Dorrington, is a distant cousin of mine. She is Master of the Rolls and that puts her number two behind the Lord Chief Justice.

Indeed, because she is my cousin, I'm on very friendly terms with her and I was talking to her about security only two weeks ago. All the usual stuff, sentencing, secure prisons, admissible evidence, cross-border policing, hearings in Camera and so on.

There were a few international questions left unanswered and some of them might be progressed enough at the convention to make it worth my while attending. Canada and the UK share a common law heritage with the US so there'll be ample grounds to ask a few questions and get myself noticed.

Justice Dorrington is very active in rendition law and it's relationship with terrorism. She also sat on the committee that dealt with transgender rights in the UK.

I'm sure Phillip and I can ask enough awkward questions to get ourselves noticed. My cousin, being a female, will be pleased to see me there and I am sure we can inveigle an invitation to whichever table she sits on. At least for one night and I'm sure that will be all it takes. Phillip's got a law background so we'd make an admirable team. A few choice titbits is bound to generate interest amongst them. Then hopefully, he and I can gently guide the discussions around to our mole and her hopes.”

A ripple of interest went around the table as serious members mulled the idea over in their minds. Then the pragmatic general spoke again.

“Or you could mention the lavatorial business and transgender people. That's a pretty hot topic at the moment.”

Phillip and 'Q' nodded simultaneously as Phillip added.

“That as well general.”

The discussion occupied the rest of the morning and several conclusions were reached. Some concerning just how much material could be released to the judges.

After lunch, Phillip and 'Q' discussed strategies before 'Q' returned to the UK.

A day after her return to Manchester, the security forces intervened in the Manchester plot. Once again they found overwhelming evidence of Saudi involvement through a mosque in Birmingham that was funded and run by a Saudi educated Whahabist Imam. They even found traces of the high grade military explosives that was identical to the Ganges bomb.

The truck destined to explode at the parade was intercepted as it arrived at a depot in Manchester on the Friday preceding the Saturday parade. All importantly, five minutes before the truck was intercepted, Callie's information had identified and located the key trigger-man tasked with detonating the bomb electronically with her mobile phone.

This was the essential element to avoid a premature 'booby-trap' detonation to destroy any evidence and also preserving all forensic evidence to present to the Saudis. When found and recovered, the explosives even had the batch number on a label identifying the manufacturers of the explosives and the Saudi government purchasers.

The old coppering expression 'Bang to rights' drilled through 'Q's head as she savoured the success. When the British and American authorities confronted the Saudi Defence ministry, it forced them to investigate any rogue elements within their security forces.

Naturally, thanks to some very devious but skilful electronic sleight of hand by Callie, a false trail was laid to 'Abdul's door. The Saudi princeling found himself evicted from the defence ministry and isolated from the levers of Saudi power. Callie had at least castrated her enemy.

“One tiny step for world security, one huge step for me,” Callie told herself as she switched off her computer after learning of 'Abdul's' dismissal. “Ubi deinde?” she asked herself.

~~ooo000ooo~~

Callie did not have long to wait. She had already prepared for 'Abdul's' eventual removal and it had taken little effort to find another sloppy operative who was careless with passwords and irregular use of the fortresses computers. Naturally it was another minor royal who gained Abdul's old job via the inevitable nepotism and corruption devices that were embedded deep into Saudi society. He proved to be every bit as incompetent and it took but a couple of hours for Callie to secure another portal using totally unrelated servers, emails and IP addresses. Additionally, she still had access to Abdul's private computers so her safety net was still holding.

Within days of having been sacked, Callie's computers picked up his booking to Germany from Riyadh with an onward flight from Frankfurt to another airport in Europe..

“Had he wised up?” She asked herself for she had not set up tracking programmes from other airports into the UK. She decided she had to move fast or lose track of Abdul in Europe.

During the interim weeks, Callie had detected two more planned attacks. They were minor small-time affairs but nevertheless they were proof to 'Q' that Callie was at least on board if not actually signed up. 'Q' was pleased with her returning protege.

Because she had resumed handing vital terrorist information to GCHQ she was pleased to learn that 'Q' was prepared to give her back her old University privileges. This meant she could monitor arrivals at UK airports, systems such as motorway networks and a whole host of other country-wide surveillance A surge of relief swept through her breast when her first passenger check list came through. The list was huge and she felt a wave of relief that she had restricted GCHQ computer access to help her. 'Abdul' was not on the first list but at least the system worked. She encrypted her thanks to 'Q' and slept more soundly that night.

The following morning she was awakened by Maggie heaving violently in the bathroom.

“What's wrong darling, shall I get you some aspirin or something?”

“No, no babe's. I'm, I'm alrigh- mmmph, wwmmph, eeough!”

It suddenly dawned on Callie, Maggie was suffering from morning sickness. For a moment she panicked then got excited then asked Maggie the stupidest question possible.

“Shall I get you a glass of water darling?”

“No stupid. I'm already in the bloody bathroom, there's water coming out of every bloody tap. Get me some whisky!”

“Whisky!!” Callie squeaked with alarm. “But you don't drink!”

“I do now! Whisky, quickly! Before I mmmph, mmmph, wooomph eeeough!”

Callie grabbed her nightie and dashed down to the library; the nearest source of whisky, and poured a small glass of neat whisky. When she returned to the bedroom she found Maggie lying on the bed with a towel by her mouth. She sat gently on the bed beside her beloved partner and asked nervously.

“Is it safe for you to drink this, what with being pregnant. I presume you are pregnant aren't you?”

“Of course I'm bloody pregnant! Give it here!”

Callie's hand shook with nervous excitement as she proffered the glass to her wife. Maggie took the glass and knocked back half of the spirit. Callie frowned.

“Firstly, d' you think that's good for the baby? Secondly, why haven't you told me before now?”

Maggie snapped back.

“Firstly I know it's not good for me or our baby, but it's sure settled my stomach. Secondly, I was going to tell you this morning but this morning sickness has either come early or I'm a month out with my dates.”

Callie bent over her and gave her a gentle hug accompanied by an affectionate kiss.

“That's fantastic news, but the alcohol.?”

“You know perfectly well I normally eschew alcohol. This must be one of those crazy pregnancy things.”

“So what brought this on?”

Maggie rolled her eyes impatiently for she had no idea either.

“I don't bloody know! Pregnancy I suppose, dhuuuh!”

“But alcohol, that's one of the worst things for a foetus. There's all sorts of comp-”

“Look! It's settled my stomach, I'm not puking any more. Let's be thankful for small mercies.”

“Why couldn't it be something innocuous like coal or vinegar or turnips or something?”

“I don't know!” Maggie snapped irritably. “Get me a clean pair of knickers from my drawer please.”

Callie duly obliged then took a clean pair for herself from her own drawer. Eventually they got dressed and prepared to spread the news of the pregnancy, a task that occupied the whole morning.

It was noon before Callie got a chance to check her computers and see the alert flashing across the screen. Abdul had arrived at Aberdeen airport of all places and via Copenhagen. It was obvious he was trying to lay some sort of false trail. The irony was that his choosing to use a regional Scottish airport had exposed him to a more intensive scrutiny than a normal EU citizen as he had been one of only three non-European travellers on the flight. Callie's carefully constructed check-list had picked him up early and her previous knowledge of his false-passport arrangement when working for Saudi intelligence had pre-empted his endeavours to enter the UK secretly.

“Got you, you bastard!” She silently congratulated herself but her victory was short lived.

Her efforts to determine his next move failed. He had not hired a car or booked a hotel room so it was obvious 'Abdul' was getting help of some kind.

'Probably from the Saudi embassy,' she told herself, 'after all, he is a royal prince.'

She composed several secure search strategies then left her system in a secure mode while she returned to resume celebrations around Maggie's pregnancy. There was little she could do until he resurfaced again.

To her amazement, her computers turned up the number-plate of a Saudi embassy car that had gone north on the M74 and then south again at times that exactly complimented 'Abdul's' arrival. It was picked up again by surveillance cameras on the M1 and then in Leeds and Bradford.

'Your not wasting much time are you?' Callie frowned as the last recorded sighting was made going out of Bradford directly towards the village of Denton.

Having ascertained the make and number of the car Callie hacked into Yorkshire police computers and highlighted the car for extra surveillance with instructions to contact GCHQ if the vehicle was behaving suspiciously. The fact that the car carried Saudi number-plates alerted every traffic cop in South Yorkshire. It was stopped and checked several times in the twenty or so miles between Denton and Bradford so 'Abdul' was left in no doubt that he was being watched. Especially as his sexual assault and prison record were attached to the alert. Having realised that his attempt as secrecy had failed, 'Abdul' booked into a hotel near Harrogate to try and determine an alternative plan.

'Abdul' soon learned that hiring a car either by himself or through friends at the embassy proved pointless. He could only do it by credit card and Callie's computers had that angle covered. After several excursions and a couple of police road checks, he concluded the only way to approach Denton hall was on foot across country.

During this interim, Callie had organised surveillance cameras set up at critical locations around Denton Hall and the most likely approach routes across the surrounding estate. Because Denton Moor was an SSI., (Sight of special Scientific Interest) she advised the local national park that the cameras were part of her ongoing research into fauna, particularly the pine-martens. This ensured that the park rangers would occasionally drop by just to check the cameras for interference in addition to Callie's regular rounds by horse on her estate. The happy coincidence was that at two particular locations, the Cameras confirmed that the martens were still present and indeed reproducing.

Finally, Callie had employed her own computer skills to compile a programme that identified bipedal images whilst rejecting obvious quadrupedal images and thus only raised an alert if the image seemed human or possibly human. Because the area on all sides around Denton Hall was open lawns, there were no hiding places for fifty metres immediately next to the house. Nothing obstructed the cameras.

For Callie it now became a waiting game.

Heir to a Title 35

Characters.

Ellie. (Eleanor) The prime Character.
Bill (William) her father, (obviously)
Callie (Callista) Ellie’s only daughter. Initially Callum - a transgendered son.
Charlotte. (Nana) Ellie’s Paternal Grandmother
Sandie (Sandra) Ellie’s Older Aunt
Rosie (Rose) Ellie’s Younger Aunt
Henry Ellie’s boyfriend and husband. (Second son of the Duke of Denton)
Molly Duchess of Denton. Henry’s mother.
Bev (Beverly) Ellie’s aunt (Previously Uncle Bernard and brother to her dad.)
Jennifer. (Jennie) Beverly's older adopted daughter.
Beatrice (Bea) Beverly's younger adopted daughter.
Lucy, Henry’s oldest niece, Callum’s cousin.
Eleanor, Henry’s middle niece Callum’s cousin. Same name as Ellie.
Virginia Henry’s youngest niece Callum’s cousin
Julie Ellie’s sister-in-law.
Angela, (Angie) Beverly’s wife (kidnapped by pirates and rescued.)
Megan Beverly’s only blood daughter by Angela.
Margaret Arnold. (Maggie) Callie's best female friend. (Eventually to become wife.)
Jane Arnold, Maggie's mother.
James Denton (The Ferrety Denton) Callie's ambitious, uncle.
Uncle Phillip Arnold American Relation (CIA)
Abdul Ibn Saud. Spoilt Saudi Arabian prince and convicted sex offender (In the UK)

Chapter 35.

“Penny for your thoughts darling?” Maggie asked as they prepared for bed.

“It's this Abdul bastard, he's on the prowl.”

“What! Back here – in Denton?”

“Well, Harrogate,” Callie confirmed, “he's booked a suite of rooms at the Majestic. The only local hotel in the village is the Black Boar pub. It has just a few en-suite rooms on the first floor. I suppose he didn't fancy living in a pig, what with his Islamic thing.”

Maggie grinned. “Pigs and beer, yes that figures. D' you think he'll try something?”

“Of course darling, why else would he be here,” Callie confessed, “I think you should move to stay in Dorset until this business is sorted.”

“Is he that serious?”

“Well he's flown from Saudi with several changes before landing at Aberdeen of all places, so he's obviously tried to cover his tracks. Silly bugger didn't seem to realise he'd stand out like a sore thumb in such a small minor airport. Anyway we've located him at the Majestic Hotel and Yorkshire's finest are aware of him. We found him with the new photo-recognition cameras on the A1M.and M62.”

“So what now?”

“We just sit and wait.”

Maggie frowned.

“That seems so 'not like you'.”

Callie sucked her tongue thoughtfully.

“Oh believe me babes, I'd love to do what his government does and just bump him off, but I'm trying to do this legally. Hence all the cameras and computer stuff.”

“So you want me to stay down in Dorset with great Aunt Beverly.”

“Well what do you want to do?” Callie asked.

“Surely if I go then what about Ellie and Molly? Their lives are just as precious.”

“Do you want to stay then?”

“I'd prefer to be with you. Couldn't we hire a couple of body-guards.”

“I suppose so and perhaps some people to monitor the security cameras.”

“Yes that's a better idea. You can't do it all on your own can you?”

Callie was forced to accept that she couldn't and Maggie's suggestion was the more practical solution. By the following evening a hired security team was embedded at Denton Hall.

'Abdul' waited several months before organising his attack. He had located several 'home-grown' jihadists who had identified themselves by their endeavours to travel to Syria and fight for ISIS. Instead the 'Islamic State' had identified them to 'Abdul' who had promptly contacted them and offered them the chance to strike right in the heartland of northern Britain. They met together in Bradford and for once Callie's electronic network failed to locate or identify the newly formed gang. Abdul had by now realised he was being watched and was consequently taking many more precautions. He avoided the internet and all electronic communications like the plague.

He and his associates had decided to lie low for a while. This was a tactic often employed by anybody stalking a victim whether it be a single victim or a whole government. The hunter would go into 'sleeper' mode and wait until the victims caution had reduced with time. Then the sleeper cell would come out of hibernation and strike.

Unfortunately these tactics had been devalued somewhat with the advent of electronic surveillance. Cameras and computers remained eternally alert provided they were maintained. Disabling the cameras was a retaliatory option open to the stalker but firstly, all the cameras had to be located. Some of the cameras however had been placed in position by Callie alone so even bribing the installation company would not entirely disable the system. The cameras that Callie had installed herself were monitored in her own bedroom closet and inaccessible to all but Callie and Maggie.

In the end, Callie's extra precautions were surplus to requirements.
When 'Abdul' attacked, the ordinary cameras infra-red detectors had picked him and his associates up as they endeavoured to make a secret approach.

By the time the gang had crossed Denton Moor and sneaked through the woods up to Denton Hall, Callie had plenty of time to contact the police protection squad. A well planned and rehearsed ambush closed around the intruders.

The security team monitoring their cameras had followed the gang to the boundary of the woods where the pine-martens still lived. The gang however, had obviously hired somebody trained in stalking for at the boundary they had deviated from any pathways or bridle tracks to crawl through the dense bracken and thus be invisible to all but the infra read cameras. The security team soon lost them in the dense metre high bracken.

Callie however, being the owner of the woods and therefore well qualified to determine what surveillance devices would best serve, had located her own private camouflaged cameras mostly in the trees looking down onto the bracken. Once the human shaped images had flashed up as bright white 'ghosts' Callie was able to track them easily and so advise the ambush where they were likely to emerge from the woods.

“It looks as though they'll emerge where the ha-ha dips down to the feeder stream that supplies the pond.” Callie advised the police inspector.

“Got that, Miss Denton.” He replied. “Can you tell if they're armed?”

“No. The images are bright but fuzzy.”

“Well I've got a team of firearms officers with me anyway and night-vision equipment. We'll pick them up. Where are your own security squad?”

“Mostly at the entrances to the house whilst one is monitoring the cameras with me in the security suite. Once they leave the woods to cross the lawns the only route with any cover after that, is to use the ha-ha wall and depression for cover until they reach the ancient Cypress tree then blind-line as best they can as they cross the lawns. There are six of them, so I suspect they'll split up between the Cypress tree and the side of the house. Then they'll probably rendezvous somewhere between the stables and the old barn that now serves as the visitor centre. They'll have plenty of cover around those outbuildings”

“That's where we'll ambush them. - Ah! We just saw movement by the brook just as you said.”

“How many do you make?”

“Six. Just like you said.” They've just crept down below the ha-ha

Callie and the hired security camera operator studied the displays and eventually four white images slowly emerged at the base of the Cypress tree. Callie tensed nervously as she spoke to the inspector.

“There are two missing. Can you see them.”

There was a soft curse as the police inspector checked with his team. Then he replied to Callie.

“Dammit! They’ve disappeared.”

“They can’t have,” Callie protested, “They’ve got to be somewhere in the ha-ha.”

“No, I’m looking all along the ha-ha depression, nothing.”

Callie racked her brains trying to work out how they had given the observers the slip but she had not known of the new drainage trench that her grandmother the dowager duchess Molly Denton had authorised while Callie had been at college. It had been to assist with draining the wet area below the forest edge and the large grass expanse leading down towards the lake. The drainage trench had been back filled but the contractors had left a slight depression at the opposite end of the curve in the ha-ha and that hollow now provided some slight cover almost to the decorative balustraded wall that bordered the geometric gardens at the side of the house. If an attacker slithered forward flat on his belly, he could just make it to the balustrade. Callie, having been at college when the work was completed, was ignorant of the minor change in the contour towards the side of the lawn above the ha-ha.

Callie cursed as she left the camera operation room and dashed to the large, eastern bay window that gave a wide view of the garden and the extensive lawns. She arrived at the window just in time to hear but not see people crunching softly through the gravel path that ran just under the house windows.

“Damn! They’re already at the windows!” She declared into her radio, then added on the open channel for all the police and the security guards to hear.

“The large bay window and ‘French doors’ of the breakfast room. That’s where they’re attacking. The doors are vulnerable by their very nature and extensive fenestration.”

Callie dashed back to their bedroom to alert Maggie who was already wide awake. Then she alerted her mother Ellie and her grand-mother Molly. Quickly the foursome re-joined the camera operator in the reinforced, secure Camera room and advised the police of their actions as they locked themselves in.

The secure camera room had been installed initially as simply a camera room but after taking further advice Callie had upgraded the security considerably and even prepared for a gas attack. Knowing the lengths to which the psychopathic ‘Abdul’ had already gone in the previous instances, Callie was taking no chances. Once her family were secured, she handed out gasmasks, infrared torches and infra-red night sight goggles. To the family and the security man. Through the ordinary cameras Callie and the security guard grinned as the power was isolated to the whole site. They already had their own ‘back-up’ supply to keep the cameras and security systems running. The emergency generator kicked in even as the main lighting flickered off.

The attackers had tried to do their homework for Callie and the guard soon detected footsteps in the bedroom outside the camera room. However, the attackers had not bargained for the security preparations. When they attacked the door it proved impervious to their efforts including the attack with their automatic rifle.

The sound of the bullets hammering at the steel lined door cause Maggie and Ellie to squeal in fear but Molly was made of sterner stuff. She screamed through door in rage.

“Just try it you bastards! We’re ready for you!”
Callie had to suppress a smile as she watched her grandmother bravely aiming her shotgun at the door. It reminded her of an old frontier’s-woman fending off the Indians.

The repeated shots were followed by a muffled ‘whump’ of gas and stun grenades but again the door defences held while the emergency ventilation system sucked in air from the external roof area and forced any invading gas backwards, out through any tiny gaps around the door or cracks in the walls. Then the defenders heard more shots and a violent commotion in the bedroom as the attackers were captured by the police and security guys. Callie checked with her radio to confirm with the police that it was all clear and eventually they emerged unharmed.

The police congratulated themselves on a job well done insofar as nobody was killed or injured but the security team were slightly miffed that the attackers had even managed to enter the house. As always after a successful op the security team faded away silently back to anonymity.

Fully an hour later did Maggie ask.

“Where those security guys the SAS?”

Callie smiled non-commitedly.

“No names, no pack-drill, darling they wanted to catch the bastards alive, and they did!

“Was Abdul amongst them?” She pressed.

“Not among the six who attacked the house. He was caught at the boundary of the estate waiting with his cronies for the six attackers to return with us as prisoners.. The inspector confirms they’ve had a rich haul of bad’uns tonight. Including some that have been on their watchlists for a while. Apparently tonight’s operation has given them some excellent leads into a whole range of criminal stuff here and abroad.”

Maggie gave Callie a hug as they shared the umpteenth pot of tea and scones with the attending police. Dawn was breaking when the police finally left with plans to return for forensic evidence.

The consequences of the capture spread far and wide for the arrests enabled the police to investigate 'Abdul's' associates. They were found to also be involved in a slave-trading, rape-gang organisation with connections throughout Britain and Europe. One of the leaders of the organisation was found to be a peripatetic Wahhabi Iman who had been paid for by Saudi money to preach at different mosques throughout the UK.

'Abdul's' association with these organisations and his holding a diplomatic passport caused uproar right up to the highest levels. Furthermore, Callie used her hereditary membership of the Upper House of Lords in Parliament to ensure that the furore did not abate. Abdul and several other high-ranking foreign diplomats were detained for questioning under both British and European warrants amidst much back-biting and in-fighting at the highest levels between the Saudi Royal Family and the British Government. His passport was retained by the British Foreign office but he was not remanded in custody though he was required to attend Paddington Green police station in London three times a week. This was the main police station in London for dealing with terrorist and associated crime.

In addition to this onerous duty, he was required to live in a secure location until the trial which would take nearly a year to prepare for. The whole issue had really stirred up bad relations between Saudi Arabia and Britain, not to mention Europe and the United States. The House of Saud had a lot of ‘fence-mending’ to attend to, not least being the total denial of any diplomatic help or immunity while Abdul was facing trial.

Finally, at the trial, he was sentenced to another twelve months then deported from the UK and the EU for a further year. It was only his position in the eventual succession to the Saudi throne that won him clemency after two years banishment.

For Callie at least, a degree of peace and security finally returned to her life and she could get on with running her estate while rearing her and Maggie’s son then daughter as legitimate heirs to the Denton dukedom and other titles.

ooo000ooo