CHAPTER 35
I suppose that Maisie’s arrival was the start of another new life for me. I had managed to get through to Kim by a simple process of empathy, for she was me, in so many ways. There was a fire in her, one I had seen when she had called me a nonce and issued directions about sex and travel. Each time she snarked at someone, I heard myself passing a comment about a horse to a woman whose looks were more Clydesdale than filly. I realised how much I depended on her support only when things took a little turn for the worse.
Nell and Cathy seemed joined at the hip, and I could see why. Both were bookish, as well as feminine in their own individual ways. Once they had come to understand what the House was about, they settled into their new lives with an almost audible sigh of relief, their former selves shed like a snake’s old skin, their vision clearer than before. I suppose that the regular visits by Doctor Thomas were a help, but the main driver seemed to be their studies. They were there for each other at college, so any potential bullies would have been faced with both of them. That meant that I had to rely more and more on Kim’s innate good sense to settle Maisie in, as I worked my shifts for Bert.
Cathy was the girl who really surprised me, to be honest. She had seemed far too quiet when I had first collected her, but that had blossomed into what I could only describe as serenity. Her treatment of poor battered Maisie had been mature beyond her years, and her influence on Nell was an inspiration. I caught her on her own one evening, working through some book or other on rock formations or erosion or something like that, in the other living room/study, bringing her a hot chocolate.
“How are things going with the new girl?”
She put a bus ticket on the page she was reading and closed the book, pushing a lock of her steadily-growing hair back behind an ear.
“Not wonderful, Debbie. I don’t think she’s got there yet?”
“Got where, love?”
Her head tilted to one side.
“I know that Mrs Hughes told you about my little box. You tried to get me to talk about it on the drive here, remember? Not that subtle, Ms Wells”
“Well, yeah. I needed to get some idea what to expect, and it isn’t the easiest thing to bring up, is it? Cold?”
“Well, that’s actually the point. When I was… when I used to do things to myself, you know what it was? It was control”
“Eh?”
“My life… I had nothing that was mine. I had nothing I had a say in, just told what to do. You’re a boy, this is what boys do. This is how boys dress. Nothing from me, no choices. When I was… when I got my little box out, it was a little space, a little moment, where I was in charge. I could choose where, how deep, how many. I sound mad, don’t I?”
“No, Cathy. You don’t. I know all about things happening to me without consent. Are you still… Do you still feel the need for that stuff?”
She smiled, in a completely natural way.
“No. Not any more. I have control now, at least until Kim starts complaining about kitchen work needing doing. Look at this dress”
It was a pretty thing, completely not to my own taste, and it was typical of hers in being flared in the skirt, fitted in the bodice, in a soft rose-pink print, with a cream cardigan over it.
“What about it?”
“Well, remember fumbling in the back of the van to get changed, and then going up into town with you all to pick my own stuff? I picked this one out. I chose it, I decided to put it on today, I chose what I’ll wear to college tomorrow. Control, Debbie. More control than I ever dreamt of. That answer the question?”
I nodded, and she grinned.
“Got a question of my own now! How’s that for control?”
“Go ahead, O Mighty One!”
She snorted with laughter, then looked at her mug.
“Too much of this and I’ll be the Fat Controller. Anyway, Maisie first. She’s terrified someone will find out where she is. Terrified of going out. I was thinking: do we have some time to take her right away, be herself? Kim and Nell were talking about your friend Pat, the mountains and stuff. Nell said you mentioned biker parties as well. They told me how protective the bikers were. I think that’s what might work for Maisie”
“What? Loud music and camping, or long walks and camping?”
“Either. Just being somewhere that is either closed off from outsiders, or so far away that there’s no prospect of her being found by someone she doesn’t want to see”
“I may have just the do. We’ve missed the Fumble, but I know one almost as good. You want to run it past her and the others together?”
“Will do”
“And your own question?”
“Yeah. Me and Nell, really. Uni. It’s…”
She grinned suddenly, happily.
“Control, Debbie! And a future worth waking up for. I want to do geology”
“Ah. I wondered why you were reading schoolbooks at this time of year”
“It’s actually the first year set book for Aberystwyth. Getting a head start. Nell and me, we’ve been looking at places. She wants to do history, of all things. I asked her why not music, and she said cause she can’t play anything. That’s another thing. We take our A-levels in a year, and when we’re eighteen, well, we’re both eighteen before we sit them, and we can change our names at eighteen, legally, and it means no silliness with certificates, and we go to Uni as ourselves and not in the wrong names, because if we pass our A-levels, then that’s the name the Uni sees, and, well, stuff”
I stared at her for a few seconds.
“You’ve really been giving this some thought, haven’t you?”
A sharp nod. I took her hand.
“Tell you what, you speak to the others, and I will give Rosie a shout, see if they’ll be at the Welsh Coast do, and if there might be a couple of pillions going free, and I’ll also see what Pat’s doing later in the month. That do?”
I stood, collecting the mug as I did so.
“Oh, yes: those books are expensive. They come out of house funds from now on, okay?”
A sharp nod once again, and I headed for the phone to give Rosie a shout. The ensuing conversation alleged that I was an idiot, of course they would be going, both clubs, and the women would have some spare pillion seats, anyone playing rally virgin games would end up eating their own teeth, and did I need a spare tent?
The weekend before the do, Rosie and Rockrose dropped a bundle of spare clothing off for the girls as well as some helmets, and I found a small rucksack for each one.
“Tip for you three: Once on the bike, loosen the shoulder straps so that the rucksack sits down onto the bit behind you, but keep the chest strap fastened. That way, it won’t dig into your shoulders, nor force your head forward. Maisie? We need a little chat, OK?”
I took her into the dining room so that Cathy and Nell could dig into their books in the study, and as if by instinct, Kim followed us a couple of minutes later with two steaming mugs, then left us to our chat.
“The others are worried about you, love. That you’re scared of men getting in, men who know you, that is”
She started trembling, and as always, I reached out for a hand. Mam and Dad had taught me so well.
“The general opinion is that you need to get out into the world, but do it somewhere nobody might see the person they thought you were. Am I right? Are you up for this?”
“Who will be there?”
“A lot of really scary bikers, but that’s not just the women, but my sister and her girls. Her old man will be there with his own club and they will have people watching for problems, all day and all night. My sister told me that anyone who bothers any of you will be eating their own teeth before they finish opening their mouths. Trust her on that one”
“What do we do there?”
“Arrive, put up a tent, get drunk or don’t get drunk, play silly games, eat unhealthy food and dance ourselves into exhaustion to loud music. Oh, and the site is absolutely gorgeous”
“If it rains?”
“Big marquee. You up for it, love?”
“Who will I sleep with? Not on my own?”
“No, not at all, unless you want to. Me and Kim, it would be. The other two will be in one of Rosie’s spare tents”
“Okay, then”
I could feel the tremor in her hand, so once more, by instinct, I took another hurting child into my arms.
In the end, the weather stayed fine, the usual suspects found someone else to strip naked, and I found a few moments, and a quiet spot up one of the lanes heading for the mountains to shed some tears for Mam and Dad. I stayed sober(ish), as did Kim, while Cathy got merry, Nell got VERY merry, and a succession of prospects and patches of the Falkiri MC, Rosie’s newly formed club, stayed within close reach of Maisie as she slowly settled into the mood of the place, relaxing enough to dance to the early disco, before really letting rip when the band came on.
What really seemed to break through to her was the simple presence of children. Carl was on ‘business’ again for part of the weekend, once more with that big Englishman I remembered from so many years ago, but this time he had a dark-haired woman with him and three kids. I could read Maisie’s mind: kids; families; safety. That was what sent me up the lane for a solitary bout of weeping, because I could see myself there. Two girls and a boy were what he had, and it wasn’t just myself I saw there, but Rosie and poor, murdered Sam.
Class, woman. Whose weekend is this, in the end? Maisie to look after. Find some backbone, show some class, but let the tears run their course.
CHAPTER 35
I suppose that Maisie’s arrival was the start of another new life for me. I had managed to get through to Kim by a simple process of empathy, for she was me, in so many ways. There was a fire in her, one I had seen when she had called me a nonce and issued directions about sex and travel. Each time she snarked at someone, I heard myself passing a comment about a horse to a woman whose looks were more Clydesdale than filly.
Nell and Cathy seemed joined at the hip, and I could see why. Both were bookish, as well as feminine in their own individual ways. Once they had come to understand what the House was about, they settled into their new lives with an almost audible sigh of relief, their former selves shed like a snake’s old skin, their vision clearer than before. I suppose that the regular visits by Doctor Thomas were a help, but the main driver seemed to be their studies. They were there for each other at college, so any potential bullies would have been faced with both of them.
Cathy was the girl who surprised me, to be honest. She had seemed far too quiet when I had first collected her, but that had blossomed into what I could only describe as serenity. Her treatment of poor battered Maisie had been mature beyond her years, and her influence on Nell was an inspiration.
Maisie, though, was a sign of harder times. We were working our way through what seemed like an endless series of boom and bust cycles, where the ‘boom’ part only affected a tiny number of people. The rest of us got the bust, and that was never-ending. Maisie was the first of my charges to arrive in a state close to broken, broken in ways that might never be fixed.
Maisie triggered a change in the House rules, and yes, I did feel the capital letter as I thought of the place. I had considered a name for the double building, but named places reminded me far too much of others that included words like ‘Keep’ or ‘View’. ‘The House’ it became, and each new arrival served their apprenticeship in a Transit van with an urn and a bag full of camping mugs.
There was one overriding rule, and it was a simple one: nobody got in without my say-so. No mates, no college friends, no boys who thought someone’s arse, or ‘ass’, might be worth a second look. No men at all got in without agreement from the residents, and the chance to go upstairs to their rooms. Paul and Doctor Thomas were exceptions, along with Sparky, as well as Graham and Malcolm, until they sold up and moved lock, stock and barrel to Tenerife and a gay bar that had appeared on the market in some pink paper or other.
The reason for ‘no men’ was depressingly obvious, as I found far too many of the residents I gave space to had met some men in ways that had been more than a little one-sided, and not favourable to the girls. Sometimes it was their fathers, sometimes a boyfriend who had followed the same route as Sarah Powell’s loving friend, sometimes a customer, but that was uncommon, thankfully. The cases that really upset me were far more insidious.
I had more than a few girls who had found a boyfriend who ‘understood’, who ‘didn’t mind’, and they were almost always liars. They wanted sex, and they didn’t mind too much where they got it, up to a point, and whether that line was drawn at being seen in public with a tranny shemale ladyboy, or being pushed too far with questions about commitment, the reaction almost always seemed to be a violent one. Not always physical violence; sometimes it was outing, belittling, look at the ladyboy. It was often hard to assess which was the more harmful.
It coincided with a wave of violence against young gay men in the city, and while that was something that didn’t involve my girls, it was a barometer for public attitudes towards those they saw as ‘wrong’.
Fuck them.
So we all pulled together for Maisie, and she blossomed, as Nell and Cathy sailed through their A-levels and left for Aberystwyth University, their bodies following a similar route after Dr Thomas started their hormone regime. I took in Emma, Rachel, Kylie, Chloe; Nicola and Patricia, Serena; Alicia, who found a reconciliation with her family In Ruth’s place, as I watched from across the street.
And poor, lost Andrea, who left one night, along with our TV, and was found cold and stiff with a needle in her arm. That one hurt me deeply, and I was gratified when both Nell and Cathy came back to us for a few days, just to make sure I was OK.
Cling tightly to the good moments, Debbie Wells.
Andrea had been a lesson to me that I couldn’t fight everything and everyone, at least not and win. Nita and Heidi did their jobs, and I suspect rather more than that, as the inquest allowed me to give evidence in camera, ostensibly to protect the other girls, but I knew what was really going on and whose needs were being looked after. Obligations, just as Dad had taught me.
Andrea’s loss fucking well hurt, and the lesson was indeed a brutal one. I wasn’t omnipotent, I couldn’t save the world, but I had Rosie there, Carl as well, whenever there was a need, and each girl I, we, helped would pass back the ob.
The week after Andrea died, I rang Pat, seeking some way of getting my head straight, and in the end, I simply cried down the phone as she made the occasional nonsense comment to let me know she was still there.
“What do I do, Pat? Got to get out, but there’s too many of them now to bring up in the van!”
“Plas y Brenin, Debbie. They’ll sort you the space”
“Eh?”
“You know the Twin Lakes, up from the Mole pub?”
“I do”
“National Outdoor Centre, or Mountain Sports, whatever. Bunkbeds and outdoor courses. You got a bus licence?”
“Eh? No”
“But you can drive a minibus, twelve seats, can’t you? Hire one of them, speak to the Brenin, and I will meet you there. Bring Nell and Kim. Let your girls go out with the Brenin staff, and, well, you and I both know what will heal you. Fancy an overnight in the shelter?”
She paused, then continued a lot more softly.
“Be nice to make another good memory in that place, love. Do we have a deal?”
What else could I do but agree? That evening, I left the girls to their own affairs, after setting some housework and homework assignments, and fired up my bike, with no idea at all of where I was going. I had set off for the Bay, but I hadn’t gone more than half a mile before I realised that looking for birds wasn’t really a sensible idea after sunset. The bike, however, seemed to have its own ideas, and I ended up in Grangetown, rolling along to a particular bakery.
Which turned out to be a charity shop. There was a convenience store just up the road, so I stuck my head in.
“What can I get you, love?”
“Um, sorry. I was after some information”
“It wasn’t me, and that sheep wasn’t underage”
“Eh?”
“Sorry, love. Missus says my sense of humour’s not fit for polite company. Well, actually she says I’m a sicko, but hey, nobody’s perfect”
I found myself warming to him, and had a little moment of insight, comparing my own day job to his. We all found our own ways to combat boredom.
“Well, not after sheep, so no worries. I was wondering about the shop up the road. Used to be a bakery”
“What, Frank’s old place? Gossip about that, there is. How well do you know Frank?2
I decided to stretch the truth more than a little, while not actually lying.
“I used to work with him, when he was at Tesco”
“Ah. You heard about his wife, then?”
“I heard he got married. Haven’t seen him for a while”
“Ah. You won’t know, then. Don’t quite know how to put this”
“Try me”
“Well, they went off on a holiday to Gambia. He sold up when they got back, cause he came back on his own”
“His wife stayed out there?”
“Er, no. She came back on the same flight, with the lad who cleaned the hotel pool”
“Oh shit!”
“Absolutely. Anyway, she’s off to Penarth now, with her pool boy. Cow, in my opinion. Really did her man over, big style. I liked Frank. Not a bad bone in him, and he did nice savouries. Got a new place now, down by Cathays”
He gave me a much sharper look, then smiled.
“I’ll give you his new address, love. You could do an awful lot worse”
I left the shop confused, but my bike knew better, and I ended up back on the other side of the Taff, sitting on the beast as it ticked away, staring at a window display of bread rolls and wheat ears sculpted from dough, baked to a golden brown. The shop was closed, but I could see him in my mind’s eye, behind the counter, his smile, his gentleness…
I started up and rode away, visor up to allow the wind to dry my tears.
I can’t say that much about our trip up North, not because there wasn’t a lot to it, but because there was so much. I dropped Kim and the girls at the Centre, and met Pat at the nearby cottage she had rented. Nell and Cathy joined us later, having driven up from Aberystwyth. Kim herded the rest down to the ‘Mole Pub’ after they were settled in, and it was as if I had never left. Pat by my side, shepherd with a woolly hat standing at the bar, miserable ginger ponytail sitting silently in the furthest corner.
I say sitting quietly, but there was a smile for me, just that once, as he clearly recognised me from that time in Bethesda. I nodded a hello, but his face was already settling back down into the relaxation of depression.
Pat and I did spend a night in that shelter, and as it involved close cuddles and more than a few tears, I will leave it there. In the end, she had been right. The mountains worked their familiar magic, my girls were buzzing, and there were only two stops for greaseburgers on the way back. Cathy and Nell had taken their own moments, and with their hugs, they each gave me a simple message: I had been there for them; they would always be there for me.
Obligations. I missed Dad so much just then.
Back to the House, back to routine. Kim had taken Maisie in hand, and the two of them took so much of the work from me that I felt I was cruising, skiving perhaps. Paul brought me back down to Earth, as always.
“This is Gemma, Debbie. She runs this place, so you need to smile at her/ Debbie, Gemma already has a college place, but her, um, home situation is a bit awkward”
She looked awful. That was my first thought, and I wrestled it back down with a good slap, but she was over six foot in height, broad-shouldered and a little heavy in the face.
“What are you doing at college, Gemma?”
I realised she was trembling, so I dragged out a softer smile.
“PC Welby told you what we do here?”
“Yes. Says it’s a halfway house”
“He also says you have issues at home?”
“Um, yeah… you can see I’m not really a girl?”
Paul put his hand on her arm.
“Not a real girl? Don’t think so, Gemma. Remember what I said: no judgement here, OK? Want me to run through the basics with Debbie here?”
Her head drooped, whether with bashfulness or embarrassment, I couldn’t tell.
“Please”
He squeezed her arm before turning back to me.
“Familiar story, Debbie. She’s always known, never felt able to tell the family, so she started her college course, catering, baking, whatever it’s called, and her Dad thinks… what was it, Gemma? Who was he thinking of?”
“Gordon Ramsey”
“Ta. So she starts the course, he’s thinking Mr Sweary in the kitchen, and then he finds out she’s more Delia than Heston, so it’s out the door. Still got the college place, just needs a safe harbour. I’m asking around for a work experience placement”
My mouth took flight on its own.
“What’s your speciality, Gemma?”
“Patisserie. Cakes and stuff”
I nodded, and handed her over to one of the other girls to get settled in, and three days later I was in Cathays, pulling off my helmet as the bell on the door went ‘ting’. I drew a deep breath.
“Hello, Frank”