Spacetran              by: Beverly Taff

 

Chapter 7.

We warped out of a huge cumulus rain cloud to hide our radar image so we appeared without warning and had alighted on their rain-swept deck before they even realised we were in the vicinity. A startled lookout gaped at the unexpected arrival before screaming to the officer on watch. Within moments dozens of armed sailors had swarmed onto the flight deck and nervously surrounded the Albatross.

"Well at least these guys aren’t shooting." Sighed Beverly.

"They’re European. They’re not so ‘gung-ho’ as us Americans." I shrugged guiltily. "Look that guy seems to be the senior officer."

Beverly took the large paper pad and identified herself. The officer smiled and acknowledged us then took out a notebook and invited us onto the deck.

"Shall we go?" I asked her.

"You go. See if there are any traps. I’ll guard Albatross. They’ll know all about you because you’re famous."

"OK. Here goes nothing." I shrugged.

I could hardly blame Beverly for her caution. It would have been stupid to let Albatross fall into military hands. This time I wore a sensible overall to descend the ladder and eventually presented myself to the Spanish Captain. Like many educated Spanish he spoke several languages perfectly. He was also well aware of The Cold Albatross. After three oceanic encounters all aircraft carrier commanders were fully alerted to any possible future visits.

"So you’ve returned to Earth again ma-am. An aircraft carrier once again."

"Indeed captain." I smiled admiring his courteous formal English

"And you’re honouring the Spanish this time. I admire your impartiality."

"Thank you captain. I might add that yours is a particular honour if you’re agreeable."

"Please explain." He replied cautiously but courteously.

We had stepped out onto the bridge-wing and were looking down onto the Cold Albatross. Beverly was clearly visible in the cockpit window and the captain gave her a smart courteous bow before waving amicably. I nodded towards the Albatross and presented the deal.

"That lady is the builder of that craft. She is the genius who actually cracked time travel; a one Ms Beverly who I have finally persuaded to declare herself to you if you will agree absolutely to respect the integrity and privacy of her craft and make no attempt to impound it or imprison her."

He hesitated for a moment then glanced questioningly.

"What are your plans?"

"My plans are simply to return to my home planet and carry on my life, hopefully with her as my companion. I’m not sure what her plans are. She say’s she simply wants to return to Earth and live a normal life. Truth to tell I think she’s worn out with Space travel."

"I’ve got a full dossier here containing all we know about you and that lady. Am I to presume she’s changed her mind?"

"I don’t think she’s gone that far. She still wants to travel the stars, and the galaxies for that matter; it’s just that she needs a place to call home. Don’t interrogate her about it. Under that exquisite exterior she’s a very frightened uncertain little child."

"So what now. What d’you want me and my ship to do?"

"Firstly agree not to harm her or the Albatross."

"She’s committed no offence, no act of aggression. I can agree to that."

"Thank you captain. I assume I can take your word on that."

"Miss Denby I am a Spanish Naval officer. My word is my Bond."

"Excellent captain, the only other thing is to caution your crew not to go poking around inside her. There are forces tied up in that craft that could destroy this planet and our heavenly neighbours."

The captain’s eyes narrowed nervously.

"Are you saying there’s a bomb or something aboard?"

"Good gracious no! The warp drive is where the energy lies. If some dumb matelot started fiddling with any levers he could accidentally set the world on fire. The Albatross must be strictly guarded. I am quite sure that if you respect these requests Miss Beverly will reward you with a trip around the galaxy. There’s another gentleman who might also be so rewarded. He’s a colleague of yours in the British navy."

"Ah yes. Captain Rawlin. The man you took to Switzerland. I’ve met him on a couple of NATO exercises. I think his ship is in The Persian Gulf."

"I think Miss Beverly would be wary of visiting the gulf. That’s a hotbed of trouble. Her craft is very vulnerable." I lied. "Is there anyway you have of contacting Captain Rawlin?"

"Of course. We are both NATO aircraft carriers."

He took me in out of the rain and within minutes I was speaking to a familiar voice. After some brief exchanges the Spanish Captain had agreed to go aboard Cold Albatross if it was required.

The next part was to be the biggest difficulty, persuading Beverly to trust a man. I returned to the Albatross and finally convinced her that the Spaniard was an honourable man of his word. Nevertheless she still freaked out when he respectfully poked his head through the cargo door and I had to virtually nurse her frail shivering body in my arms before he eventually made her acquaintance. As he courteously extended his hand I felt every muscle in her tiny frame lock up with fear. It was only now that I realised how badly she was messed up inside.

I motioned him to sit in the seat in the cargo bay and wait a short while as I gently nursed Beverly back to some form of coherent response. Then I gently placed her in the cockpit and explained events.

"The Persian Gulf!" She squeaked. "That’s a war zone. There’ll be all sorts of yanks flying around loaded for bear."

"Well then now’s the time to test that so called defence shield and the guns. Besides the British Aircraft Carrier is expecting us."

"Well Gee thanks! I thought we could just go straight to Switzerland and declare ourselves to the commission. Besides they should just about have got anti-grav by now. I half expected them to meet us behind the moon."

"Well maybe Earthmen are a bit thicker than amphs."

"Look all I want to do is live a normal life, preferably with you in your cottage. Then every few months just warp away to visit my friends on other planets. I just want to retire to my plantation like George Washington did."

"That’s not going to happen unless we co-operate with the authorities. The best way to do that is to get Captain Rawlin to speak for us. He’s honest and I trust him."

"Why can’t they just trust us."

"Do you trust them?" I countered.

"No! But I’ve got reason not to trust them."

"Well some of them still believe you’re an alien. Just remember I did when I first met you."

Beverly fell silent then slowly nodded her head as she accepted the inevitability. I motioned to the cargo bay door and asked her.

"Can the Spanish gentleman come into the cockpit now. I did promise him a ride?"

"I suppose so. You promise too much, this is all turning to rat shit."

She turned to concentrate on her controls and ignored the captains’ courteously extended hand of friendship. I gently motioned to the man and tapped my skull discreetly to explain that Beverly was not a balanced person when it came to men. Then I indicated the observation divan under the cockpit window. Cautiously he sat on it and gazed expectantly out of the window as the horizon started to curve. Suddenly he let out a soft Spanish oath as he recognised the Arabian Peninsular far below.

"My God! That’s thousands of miles in a few seconds." He wagged his head disbelievingly.

"Now comes the hard part." Muttered Beverly nervously as she fiddled with some newly installed controls and a blue tinted bubble enveloped the Albatross.

"Well the shield seems to work but it’s hard to see out. The shield distorts everything." I observed as I peered myopically at the outline of Kharg Island.

"We’d better switch if off then until we get a definite hostile reaction."

"You should have had some sort of radar fitted Beverly!" I scolded.

The Captain turned to gape stupidly.

"D’you mean you haven’t got a radar?"

"I never saw a need for one. Albatross was never meant for this sort of stuff. She’s a transgalactic time traveller not a bloody search and rescue helicopter."

Even as she spoke a squadron of Iranian jets thundered past and the Spaniard winced with surprise.

"They’ve picked us up already. They’ll want us to land. We’re over their air-space." He cautioned.

"Fuck their airspace." Cursed Beverly. "I’m an Earthwoman and this is bloody Earth!"

The captain and I exchanged amused glances. Beverly certainly had a very wide perspective. She twitched a lever and within moments we were over Bahrain and the captain gaped stupidly again before wagging his head and smiling. Below I recognised the familiar outline of a large U.S. Nuclear aircraft carrier and warned Beverly.

"Expect company again!"

"Before I had finished speaking the roar of jets crashed about us again and suddenly the sky was alive with planes of all nationalities."

"I think you’ve disturbed the hive." Grinned the captain.

"Come one, come all." Shrugged Beverly as she engaged the shield and went lower to find the smaller British aircraft carrier. Within minutes we had acquired a veritable armada of assorted jets who attached themselves to us until we located the smaller British ship with it’s distinctive turned up nose. A single pass identified the British Captain Rawlin and he waved us down onto the deck.

The Spanish captain and I quickly disembarked to make the arrangements and within an hour Captain Rawlin had joined us in the cockpit. I had cautioned him about Beverly’s dysfunctional neurotic personality so he simply nodded graciously and joined his colleague on the divan.

"So Switzerland it is then Gentlemen." I advised them.

The Spanish Captain forewarned his British counterpart and they both shook their heads in disbelief as the Alps appeared almost by magic. We swiftly recognised the huge ring of the CERNE project where the worlds’ scientists had decided to pool their research into gravity and we landed without incident or warning in the car park by the main research block. Blank stares of stunned disbelief gaped at us from a hundred windows before the doors started spewing out the massed concentrated knowledge of humanity.

I smiled inwardly as I calculated if all the I.Q’s were added up they might not surpass the awesome total accumulated in my dysfunctional friends’ sad tortured brain. Payday had arrived.

The first thing I had to do was separate the few female scientists from the crowd and herd them into an acceptable reception committee. A brief explanation sufficed and the crowd of disappointed men waited expectantly as the select group accompanied her into the building. A ‘question and answer’ session quickly developed as insoluble questions were put to Beverly concerning gravity.

The group drifted into a large lecture theatre where she casually picked up some paper and laid out her explanations.

Her handwriting conveyed her fear. Her arm rarely left her side and the writing appeared tight and constricted as she continually masked it accidentally with her tense little body. The fifty or so female heads were continually bobbing and twisting to follow her obscured writing and there were frequent interruptions as some of the finest mathematical brains begged her to explain some inexplicable procedure. The whole exercise was above my head but I think the gist of it was a four dimensional geometry and trigonometry applied to the atomic structure of an amalgam. The amalgam was then ‘drawn’ like an artificial fibre then twisted like a skein of wool a certain number of times to in effect create a solid ring like structure only with two plane continuous sides and no ends. The amalgam was then baked in a forge before being immersed into a molten metal casting to make an almost indestructible pad. After the application of a current a concentrated anti-grav field was generated and the existing gravity was reversed upon itself. The bigger or more numerous the pads, the more ‘lift’ or ‘thrust’ was generated.

In three-dimensional terms this is all but impossible to conceive. In passing Beverly had also created some new and original mathematical tools to solve the equations and extrapolate the results to create a physical three-dimensional facsimile. Just as Isaac Newton had invented Calculus to solve some of his problems so had Beverly invented a new maths.

As I sat silent in my seat I could hear mutterings of amazement growing to a dull roar amongst the audience. Suddenly Beverly tensed and spun round white with fear. The whole audience fell silent as they quickly recognised her distress. I cautiously approached her trembling form and gently put my arm around her.

"What’s wrong?" I whispered as the audience continued to stare curiously.

"Nothing!" She squeaked as the tension flowed away just as quickly as it had arrived. "Nothing, it was just De-ja-vue."

"Go on. What d’you mean?"

"I tried to explain this before; when I was twelve. They screeched and howled then tried to have me put away."

"That was then Beverly. This is now. Try and put it behind you." I replied trying to reassure her.

She smiled then grinned affectionately before grabbing me tightly and kissing me passionately. The auditorium remained deathly silent as the scientists realised we were ‘lesbian lovers’. My eyes scanned the audience nervously but Beverly ignored them as her eyes closed and her hands burrowed under my blouse.

Fortunately my blouse and jacket combined to hide her actions so nothing was visible under my suite jacket. She clung to me and groped my breasts like a nursing child for nearly a minute as I tried to signal to the audience to ignore the outburst. Shocked expressions gaped back at me. Then she let go as suddenly as she had grabbed me and swung round to resume her calculations.

The stupefied scientists took this as a signal to return to normality and after a few nervous questions the session returned to its previous lively exchange.

Eventually, after nearly an hour of chalk and talk, Beverly rubbed her aching shoulder and hitched her bum up onto the desk.

"That’s the gist of it ladies. The full calculations and explanations are in the notes I left from before. Surely you’ve got it now? Follow that and you’ll have anti-grav." She sighed wearily.

The audience erupted into violent clapping and shouting until one older, more sober individual brought some order.

"Well we can’t thank you enough. Would you like to stay and help us build a craft?"

Beverly shook her head determinedly.

"Sorry. No. I’ve a lot of living to catch up on."

With these words she grabbed me again and kissed me passionately before releasing me and asking for a cup of coffee. As one the women gathered around her to shake her hand and congratulate her on her discoveries. I went to fetch a pot of coffee and was ‘way-laid’ as I sought out the dining hall. It was the ‘older sober lady’ again.

"Miss Denby." She called.

"Call me Ruby." I replied.

"OK then Ruby. She still hasn’t explained space warps and time travel."

"And I doubt if she ever will." I finished abruptly.

"It’s all in that big ring around the Albatross, isn’t it?"

"Absolutely, and she isn’t telling. Be thankful for what you’ve got."

"It would be nice to meet other life forms from other planets."

"They’re not ‘Life forms’ madam. They’re people. Beverly and I prefer to call them people." I chastened her.

"But they’re not human." She challenged.

"Of course they’re not bloody human! But they’re still intelligent and still ‘people’."

"You’ve got a strange anthropomorphic perspective. It’s not a very scientific view considering you’re a biology graduate yourself."

"It’s a perspective born of intergalactic travel." I finished condescendingly. "If you ever get to meet other ‘life forms’ as you so clinically describe them then you might just change that cold scientific view you call ‘a perspective’."

I sensed her dehumanised nature and suddenly recalled Beverly’s nightmare childhood.

‘This woman would have been exactly the sort of ghoul who would have carried out the frankensteinian experiments on the children in care.’ I silently gave thanks to God that she was a physicist and not a doctor. All she could hurt were sub atomic particles.

I felt a wave of nausea engulf me and turned away as the tray of coffee trembled in my hand. Down the corridor I found a happy Beverly surrounded by the other scientists who were excitedly exploring her ‘permanent make-up’. Mathematics and Physics had been temporarily put aside.

‘Real girls, doing real girl things.’ I observed with relief.

After the encounter with the ‘Bitch of CERN’, I was glad to find myself amongst real girls again, girls furthermore, who were not put off by my relationship with Beverly. They were probably sympathetic anyway after possibly having received enough stick at school and university for choosing the ‘boy’ subjects of physics and maths.

Later Beverly and I invited them into the Albatross where they showed equal interest in both Beverly’s cabin and the drive systems. Once again they made several half-hearted efforts to persuade Beverly to reveal a little bit about space warps and time travel but she remained tight-lipped. Eventually she told them that the maths for Anti-grav was nothing compared with the maths for time and space warps. As they listened, the mathematicians eyed her enviously for her brain.

I grinned inwardly when I considered that most women would have only envied her for her looks. As a transvestite Beverly would have found the latter more rewarding. Eventually the girls made their farewells and started to leave in ‘dribs and drabs’ until only Beverly, one particularly pretty girl and myself remained. As a confirmed lesbian I quickly picked up the vibrations. The girl was ‘up for it’. I caught Beverly’s eye and she wagged her head slightly. She had too many hang-ups to even contemplate a ‘menage-a-trois’ and I ended up having to discreetly advise the girl that we were a devoted ‘couple’. She sighed, smiled and made her excuses without acrimony.

That night Beverly and I discussed our relationship and how we would go about legalising our union. We returned to the CERN centre and surfed the net until we found a suitable location for a discreet secret wedding. Strangely it was the city of Manchester in the UK and we discreetly departed that night to avoid too many curious eyes. On route, Beverly changed her appearance and by the time we reached Manchester the old Beverly had virtually disappeared.

The gay priest we had chosen specialised in same sex weddings but she was amused and delighted when we revealed our true sexes.

"You realise that this makes it completely legal don’t you?" She grinned.

"I’ll have to locate my birth certificate." Mumbled Beverly.

"Have you any idea where you were registered."

"No."

"Then I suggest the central registry in London. If you can remember your family name and your date of birth you’ll soon find it." Observed the priest.

"I never had a birthday." Replied Beverly softly. "The family wouldn’t celebrate it because it was the day our mother died. The day I caused her death."

"That’s a horrible thing to say!" Gasped the shocked priest.

"It’s true though. If I hadn’t been borne she-"

At this she fell silent and I just managed to catch her before she slumped out of her seat.

The priest wagged her head and watched as I laid Beverly out on the settee. It was obvious that Beverly’s childhood memories were too overpowering. After making sure she was comfortable the priest called me into her study.

"We’ll have to find her birth certificate. I’m used to stuff like this and I know which strings to pull. Since coming out, I’ve learned an awful lot about care victims and child abuse. I’m involved with several organisations concerning childhood abuse. Give me a couple of days."

With the priests’ advice and directions, Beverly and I booked into a hotel in the gay village. That night we went ‘exploring’ and she was amazed at the freedom accorded to our kind. She was like a child let loose in a chocolate factory as we cruised the bars and clubs.

It was nearly a week before the priest returned with a satisfied smile and an older woman in tow. She had phoned me in advance and warned me. She introduced me briefly to the woman then left her in an out-of-town hotel before making our excuses and separating again. As we drove into Manchester the priest explained.

"That was Beverly’s older sister."

"Phew! I gasped. I don’t think Beverly would countenance anything to do with her family. This is dangerous ground!"

"Think of it as therapy." Argued the priest.

"Your reverend. I don’t know if you’ve studied Beverly’s’ background. The last thing she needs is therapy, or therapists, or psychiatrists or anything. All she wants is be a legal entity and married to me. She knows her own mind believe me."

"Well will you try? This woman has come all the way from Devon and she says Beverly was born as Bernard Holst in Shropshire in 1948. Here’s the extract from the registry in Shrewsbury."

The priest had obviously been working hard and I felt I owed it to her to approach Beverly about the woman claiming to be her sister. It seemed incongruous that a lady in her late fifties could be the sibling of such a pretty young thing as Beverly. Time travel certainly did strange things. I returned to the hotel to find Beverly chatting happily to a pair of very passable she-males in the restaurant. It was her first independent foray into the village life but she seemed to be taking to it like a duck to water. I grinned.

‘There was hope for her yet.’ I joined them and exchanged friendly polite introductions.

Beverly had already ‘declared’ herself and they were enchanted with her appearance. They were also amazed and glad for her having found a suitable partner in me and they begged to attend the wedding.

"You’ll need at least two witnesses. They chirped."

I was a bit wary of any publicity but Beverly seemed to be getting bolder by the day as she immersed herself in the balmy social waters of the village. After sharing lunch an agreement was finally reached and I informed Beverly about the appearance of her sister. Strangely she was not as paranoid as I first thought.

"What does she look like?" Asked Beverly.

Beverly had been the youngest child and I described her third sister who was Beverly’s nearest sibling.

All Beverly’s other older siblings were dead. This woman was a headmistress of a major public school and had remained a spinster all her life. Beverly pulled a wry smile as she considered meeting her.

"She’s probably intelligent enough to realise she was damaged as well by the family set-up. Maybe she was right not to get married."

"She seems a friendly educated woman and she desperately want’s to see you."

"Everybody want’s to see me Ruby. If they found out I was in Manchester the village would be overrun with reporters. Where’s she staying?"

I mentioned the name of a small hotel outside Manchester and she shrugged uncertainly.

"I don’t suppose it’ll do any harm to go and look at her. She’d never recognise me as her younger brother anyway. Come on let’s do it now. I’m curious."

"She’s got a couple of photographs of you as a young boy. She says you’ll recognise them and that’ll prove who she is."

"Right, we’ll book a couple of rooms there by phone and arrive as residents." Suggested Beverly. "Then we can arrive separately a few minutes apart."

With the plan set up I booked in around fourish and settled at a table in the hotel lounge to enjoy an afternoon coffee. Behind my tinted glasses and wig I spotted Beverly’s sister busy on a mobile phone. I did not need to look for Beverly’s arrival. Throughout the lounge heads turned as Beverly trotted up the steps. Eyes hungrily followed her to reception and I sighed to myself as she disappeared into the lift. Her older sister had noticed the beautiful young lady arrive but had not the faintest idea who she was. I smiled to myself and continued reading my novel until Beverly returned. She took the table next to me and exchanged a brief discreet glance of recognition before motioning towards her sister. By prearrangement I stood up and walked across the lounge to reveal myself.

"Miss Holst. Miss Angela Holst?"

"The lady stood and offered me a seat as she recognised me again."

"Ms Denby. It’s nice to meet you again. I didn’t recognise you with your sunglasses on. Have you any word on my brother?"

"Well Yes. But you must prepare yourself for big changes."

"How so?"

"Your brother is in the hotel as we speak."

"The lady’s face paled slightly as she peered around expectantly."

"Where?"

"He’s looking at you. He’s still not sure whether he want’s to meet you."

"Oh please! Don’t play games. Where is he?"

"It’s no game Miss Holst. Your brother is a very changed person and a very damaged one."

Once again her face paled as a flash of fear flickered through her eyes.

"He’s not dangerous is he?"

"Oh no. He’s definitely not dangerous. But I think you should be forewarned."

"Why?"

"Cast your mind back. Why was your brother put into care?"

Her features clouded slightly as she tried to reject the memories.

"He was a- a- transve-."

"A transvestite." I finished for her softly."

"Y- yes." She whispered glancing nervously around.

"It seems a bit cruel by today’s standards doesn’t it. To tear a child out of its family and dump it into a home for maladjusted children just for wanting to wear his sister’s clothes."

She fell into a thoughtful silence as realisation flickered in her eyes.

"He hasn’t forgiven us has he?"

"I’m afraid not, and now the boot’s on the other foot."

"Why?"

"You want to see him, not him you."

She frowned slightly as she recognised her own filial needs. As she approached old age and with all her older siblings passed on she was feeling lonely. There were a few nephews and nieces but nobody who might consider her care in her dotage. Once again she peered around hoping to catch sight of some vaguely recognisable man in his fifties. Then she wagged her head defeated.

"You won’t recognise him." I cautioned her. "Never in a million years will you recognise him."

As I spoke Beverly accepted a tray of tea and biscuits for three then she nodded imperceptibly to me. It was our pre-arranged signal. I stood up and motioned courteously to Miss Holst.

"If you’ll follow me ma-am, I’ll introduce you to your long lost brother."

She gave the lounge one last uncertain sweep before easing herself to her feet and motioning me forward.

We crossed the few feet to Beverly’s table together then I gently pulled back a chair. Beverly stood courteously in respect for age. Miss Holst stared at me uncomprehendingly.

"What’s going on?"

"Miss Holst may I please introduce your brother, a one time Bernard Holst now known as Miss Beverly."

She stared uncomprehendingly at Beverly then glared at me.

"Young ladies, don’t play games with me. I’ll call the police. If you think this is some sort of sting or set-up to con an old lady I can assure you I am fully compos-mentis."

Beverly’s lips tightened viciously as she whispered.

"This is no joke Lolo."

Miss Holst’s anger evaporated instantly as she recognised Beverly’s private childhood name for his older sister. The colour drained from her face as she slumped into the chair I was still proffering.

"Where did you learn that? Where is he? What have you done with my brother?"

"I am your brother Lolo!" Hissed Beverly.

"Let me see the photos and I’ll tell you where they were taken. If you remember there’s virtually no photos of me. I was the pariah, remember!"

Nervously Miss Holst extracted the two creased and worn pictures from her handbag and held them out for Beverly to see. Beverly snatched the first one and took less than a second to identify the characters.

That was taken at a picnic in Chirk Castle grounds on your tenth birthday. That’s you, that’s William, that’s Rosalind, that’s father, and those are our two cousins Hazel and Lesley. You’ll notice I wasn’t in the picture. We were all caught in terrible thunderstorm soon after that was taken and I got a beating for getting wet. Let me see the other one.

Miss Holst released the second one as the dreadful realisation bore into her skull. Beverly nodded her head wearily.

"My God! You’ve actually got a picture of me. That’s your friend Jackie Harris. That’s her pony with you and me sitting on its back. She’s holding the bridle. I was put away soon after that. They discovered me with a pair of her knickers on under my trousers. You saw me stealing them off their clothesline behind the barn and you told Jacky’s mother. Everybody said it was the last straw. I never got the chance to thank you for dropping me in the shit. Thanks."

"That’s not fair." Whispered the older woman.

"What is fair? Nothing’s fair. Is this fair?" Snarled Beverly as she played her ace card and deftly removed her prosthetic hand.

Her older sister gasped with shock and horror as the twitching fingers caused the hand to wobble obscenely and creep across the table. I had never seen it remain active after separation before and it looked for the entire world like some giant loathsome disfigured insect.

It was obvious that Beverly’s prosthesis was more advanced than the ones that my company made and they were considered a marvel of bioengineering. A few disgusting droplets of blood leaked from the micro-tubes to add a final satanic touch. The elderly woman went white with shock and Beverly realised she might have crossed the line of decency. Hastily she snatched the hand back and ‘clicked’ it back onto her wrist. Nobody else had seen the cameo.

"I can’t forgive you Lolo. It’s no use trying."

Her sister looked up through tearstained eyes.

"Are you the girl from the space ship?"

"What if I am?"

"But you were a boy. You were my brother. Where did it all go wrong?"

"I was a boy. Life moves on. Nothing went ‘wrong’ as you call it. I’ve moved on."

Her elderly eyes scanned Beverly’s delightful female form and she shook her head disbelievingly.

"How could you so deform the body that God gave you?"

"God! God! If there is a god then he or she gave me the wrong body. So much for divine infallibility." Laughed Beverly hollowly.

"So you’ve had the complete op then?"

"What I’ve had is no concern of yours. Any relationship I had with you and that family died over forty years ago."

"How have you managed to stay so young looking?"

"You wouldn’t understand and I’m not bothering to explain. Just trust me I was your brother- once."

Beverly stood up suddenly and stared down angrily at her sister.

"You stay with her if you want Ruby. I’m going back to the village."

The woman seized my wrist in a desperate attempt to salvage any hopes of reconciliation. It was no use. I motioned to Beverly but she had already stalked off to reception to reserve a cab. I was left holding the can as it were and I ordered a second pot of coffee.

"I’d prefer tea." Sobbed Lolo.

I changed the order then rummaged through my bag for the precious tape and laid it on the table. She listened in deathly silence as the tape revealed her brother’s childhood torment and then she remained staring at the table for several minutes before speaking again.

"How did he- I mean she, lose her hand?"

"It was in the children’s home. The bullies used to frighten the vulnerable ones by making them lie down on a railway line going past the home. Beverly’s transvestism was a wonderful excuse to bully and she was also small and vulnerable. They took great delight in making her lie down on the track in her frocks as they heard the train coming.

They were slow moving good trains and the children had time to jump out of the way. Then a new warden arrived from the army. He introduced a new variant from his time in ‘special-forces’ training. Apparently the army had rejected him as unsuitable because he was deemed to be a bully. It’s typical that the army recognised his failings and rejected him but social services and the home office didn’t. He brought his knowledge and his cruelty to the children’s home where the kids were sitting ducks. Beverly was the first victim - and the last.

They handcuffed her to the rail so that she couldn’t escape from the train and she would have to lie between the rails with her arm under the rail so that the locomotive wheels would run over the handcuff chain and cut her free by separating her hands.

Unfortunately it was the beginning of the new school academic year. A large public school from the town further down the track was returning to start the semester. The train that appeared wasn’t the regular old Puffing-Billy with a few freight wagons but an excursion taking the school back after vacation. A huge express locomotive with a dozen coaches came thundering down the track. Beverly was ten years old and terrified. Inevitably she panicked and forgot what she had to do. The train cut her hand off. The bullies panicked and ran.

The police found a demented ten-year-old boy wandering in the village in a blood-saturated frock frantically squeezing the stump to stem the bleeding. The other hand was still hanging from the handcuffs. He thought it could be sown back on."

Lolo went deathly white and gulped her tea as the shock took hold. Eventually she whispered.

"But surely the perpetrators-?"

I finished it for her.

"Where never brought to book. Strings were pulled in very high places. Paedophile judges were blackmailed, politicians were corrupted and arms were twisted left right and centre. Children were being taken from care homes all the time. Some were murdered by paedophiles; some were used for unlicensed medical experiments that left them permanently damaged. What difference was one more maimed little transvestite pervert?

Believe me Beverly has nothing to thank you for. It was your reporting her for the clothesline incident that finished it for her. Did you ever see her again after she was put away?"

"N- No." She mumbled guiltily.

"Did you know she absconded just before her twelfth birthday?"

"No."

"Did you know she lived as a beggar and a child prostitute on the streets for nearly two years?"

"No."

"Did you know she was captured and kept like an animal in a remote barn to be prostituted out to paedophiles by a rich farmer?"

"No."

"You don’t know much about her do you- and you’re her only living sister."

"But I was only a child myself."

"You’re five or six years older than her. She was nine when they put her away. You didn’t see her for nearly three years. That would have made you seventeen or even eighteen when she disappeared. Weren’t you curious? Didn’t you wonder where your little brother had gone? Didn’t anybody ask any questions?"

She stared dumbly at the floor, obviously embarrassed at having her insensitivity exposed. My anger swelled up as I continued my attack.

"Don’t you read the newspapers? Didn’t you realise that the paedophile scandal that destroyed the government last year revolved around your own brother and others children? You must have realised from the dates and the name of the home. It was splashed across the headlines for months."

I hammered out the questions as my anger boiled inside me. It sickened me to think that a person as uncaring as this should be deemed fit to run a large public school. Unable to face her anymore, I found myself mirroring Beverly’s anger and turned to swivel angrily on my heel. The last I saw was a weeping old maid being approached by the waiter to ask if she was feeling all right.

"My God!" I cursed silently as I watched the waiter comfort the old witch. "It was sickening to think how appearances could deceive."

 

 

© 2001
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