Previously…

After things had calmed down a bit I went home and didn’t want to let Heather out of my sight. She hadn’t suffered and wasn’t aware of the drama that had taken place. I kept picking her up and cuddling her. I was so relieved that she was safe and in my arms again. Eventually, I fed her and put her to bed.

As soon as she was settled, I rang Jocasta.

‘Hi Jo, how is Sophie?’

‘She’s with me now. I’m looking after her for a bit. The social services have David and I as emergency fosterers, so there’s no problem there.

‘She’s been cautioned by the police and I have to take her to the police station in town tomorrow morning. It seems doubtful if she will be charged though, due to her circumstances and state of mind. The CPS don’t think that they would get a conviction.’

‘I don’t want a conviction, I want to help her, poor lamb.’

‘Marcia Sinclair has seen her, she says that Sophia should be okay, but she has booked her in for an appointment at the hospital tomorrow morning. The police have collected the miscarried foetus from Sophie’s garden. The poor thing was at about five months.’

There was silence for a moment as we both thought about what Sophie must have been through then Jo continued,

‘She evidently lived with her dad in Bodmin. She has happy memories of being here with her mum when she was little so, to get away from her dad, she came here.’

‘What about the father?’

‘He’s being questioned by the police in Bodmin. An unsavoury character, by all accounts.’

I sat down on a chair and sipped my cup of tea.

‘I want to help her, Jo. We must try and do something for her. Mummy Dotty would know, she has her fingers in so many pies.’

‘Mmm, I agree, we need to have some sort of council of war, but do you really want to get involved, considering the problems you are having with Heather’s great grandmother?

‘I can deal with that bitch…sorry, I get emotional when I think of her.’

‘Understandable; look, lets see what happens tomorrow and then we can decide what can and what cannot be done. Look, I have top go. Jennifer and Phillipa are showing Sophie their horses, but they’ll be back soon. I’ll speak to you tomorrow.’

‘Okay…and thanks, Jo.’

‘No thanks are needed, bye.’

After I put the ’phone down, it kept ringing and I left it on answer ’phone–I didn’t want to talk to anyone. If I heard one more platitude from my friends, I thought that I would break down entirely.

I was sitting with a cat, purring away on my lap, when I jumped slightly as my mobile went off for the first time today. I picked it up.

‘Hello?’

‘Hi, love, I thought that I would ring you. We got that contract for the pottery. The way things are progressing, I might have to get more help in the shop; anyway, what sort of a day have you had?’

‘Oh Abby––!’

And now the story continues…

There was a knock on the door and I went to answer it.

Abby, Katie and Heather in her best bib and tucker were in the sitting room, waiting for the dreaded trump of doom in the shape of Obersturmbannfá¼hrer Cartwright.

The heretofore mentioned Ms Cartwright, from Devon Social Services had arrived. It was on the dot of ten according to the church clock.

I opened the door and she stood there. She was younger than I thought, about twenty one or two. She was wearing her Nazi uniform–sorry, an expensive business suit and looked cool, efficient and very pretty. Not a hair dared to be out of place and her makeup looked like it had been applied by a very expensive artist–I hated her on sight.

‘Ms Smart?’

‘Yes.’

‘I am from the social services, we spoke the other day?’

She flashed a card at me with her mug shot on it.

‘Yes, please come in.’

I waived her through and closed the front door. She went ahead of me and I caught a slight waft of Canal…sorry Chanel N °5; I really didn’t like the way she walked, like someone on a catwalk, with long legs, expensive tights and high heels. What did they pay these people?

Thinking of catwalks, Ellie Mae, the cat was in pounce mode and at that very moment she had seen what might have been a mouse over the other side of the corridor and made a dash for it. It probably wasn’t a mouse, because nothing but a kamikaze mouse would live here with all the felines about, and Ellie, bless her, didn’t have her glasses on.

I have to explain that dotted about the place were cat litter trays for the convenience of our four–or three if you count poor Tiddles–legged friends and there was one in the corridor and sadly, it hadn’t been emptied that morning.

Ms Cartwright, tripped over Ellie; Ellie did a double flip and clawed her tights, screaming blue murder as only a distressed cat can. Ms Cartwright then landed in the cat tray, and did a credible impression of that girl who’s name escapes me, who got knifed in the shower.

Upon landing on the floor, I noted that she had got erm, things on her lovely skirt and blouse…and jacket and face and hair…you get the picture.

Abby came bounding out, closely followed by Katie who stopped dead at the sight of Ms Cartwright, who now looked more effluent than affluent.

Ms Cartwright looked up and gasped.

‘Katie!’

‘Miranda!’

It seemed that Katie and Miranda went to the same school together.

~ §~

Katie helped Miranda have a shower and Abby found a change of clothes for the poor woman, while I shoved some of the soiled items in the washing machine. The suit needed dry cleaning and I bagged it up ready. The tights went the way of all tights–in the bin.

Forty-five minutes later, Ms (call me Miranda) Cartwright was sitting with the rest of us in one of Abby’s dresses, turbaned towel on her head and sipping tea.

We apologised several times but she waved it off with a, ‘My bloody silly fault, should have looked where I was going.’

‘So,’ she continued, ‘let’s get down to business. We received a complaint about how you are looking after your daughter. We have to follow these complaints up as, occasionally, I am sad to say, such complaints are justified. I have seen Heather and she looks loved and well cared for. I know that Katie would not be friends with people that abuse children. I have spoken to your doctor, the hospital and a few other prominent residents and they all confirm that you are a loving parent. As far as I am concerned you have no need to worry.’

‘What about my transgendered status?’

‘Has no bearing on the case, even though the person who made the complaint against you seemed to think that it should do. Are you going to fully transition?’

‘Yes, I intent to as soon as practicable.’

‘Well, for the record, you look very pretty and I am hard pressed to imagine that you looked anything remotely like a bloke before.’

‘Thanks,’ I smiled.

‘Dishy, isn’t she?’ said Abby.

‘Abby!’

‘Well, my boyfriend Adrian would probably say so, before I bash him over the head. So you two are an item then?’

‘Very much so,’ said Abby holding my hand.

‘What about you Katie, grabbed a man yet? It used to be anything in trousers when we were at school.’

‘I object m’lud,’ said Katie.

‘She has her eye on my captain.’ I mentioned.

‘Your captain?’

‘Erm, yes.’

Miranda looked puzzled.

‘On your way through, did you happen to notice a phallic-looking yacht in the harbour?’ Abby asked.

‘What that bloody great pointy thing that makes all the other boats look tiny? Yes, I was so envious. Ade and I went to the South of France last year–St Tropez, you know–? Well they had ships like that there. I always wanted to go on one and pretend that I’m part of ‘the set’–why are you all smiling like that?’

Miranda stayed for a while longer and I invited her and Adrian to come on board when we all went on our jaunt. I did ask if there might be a conflict of interest and she said no as she was closing the case down.

Oh, for those cat lovers who are interested, Ellie Mae was perfectly all right after some intensive counselling and a can of her favourite cat food.

~ §~

I was pleased that the S.S. interview went so well, even though it could have been a disaster. Miranda was a nice girl who genuinely wanted to help kids. I told her to get in touch with Dotty and maybe we could rope her in to help out with a few of the things that we had going.

Believe it or not, things quietened down for the next few days. On the Sophie front, she was checked over at the hospital and found to be a bit anaemic and malnourished, covered in bruises and had proved positive for Chlamydia. Her father was, as we suspected, abusing Sophie and had evidently raped her on more than one occasion, resulting in the pregnancy and terrible aftermath.

I felt like I wanted to do something using a blunt instrument on the slime ball, but we had to let the legal system do its best to remove the scum from society.

Sophie was staying with Jo, David and their children and appeared to be getting over the trauma, but these things have a habit of coming back and biting you, so Marcia was keeping an eye on her.

~ §~

Life at the Walton’s continued–ooops sorry wrong story, Life with Abby, Heather and one thousand and one cats continued as per usual with us working hard and playing hard.

As soon as I had a chance to, I went to the mobile ’phone shop–Cedric’s Mobiles, to have my one looked at. I was concerned that it wasn’t working well and the reception was crappy, to put it technically. I was sort of super glued to Heather at the moment, not wanting her out of my sight, so I had to struggle with her buggy up and down the cobbles on the quay and other roads in the town. It might be quaint looking, but you try it sometime and for God’s sake don’t wear high heels–you have been warned!

It took me forever to get to Cedric’s, mainly because I was stopped every few minutes by well wishers who had heard all about Heather’s abduction. It was the biggest news since the Women’s Institute Annual Cake Competition Gambling Fiasco (The details of which can be found deep in the vaults of the Penmarris Herald). Anyway, I made it eventually. Entering his shop was like walking in an Aladdin’s cave of ’phones. The walls and floor space was littered with boxes of many shapes and sizes and they all contained mobile ’phones or accessories for the go ahead and with it ’phonisterati.

A lot of the ’phones were on display next to photos of scantily clad women. Though where you could possibly hide a ’phone in micro bikinis and thongs I’ll never know…

Behind the counter was Cedric, the man himself. About 25, he had taken over the shop from his dad. Cedric’s dad had been a cobbler–well he mended shoes and his dad before him was a cobbler too and before that Cedric’s great grandfather had been a blacksmith–so you see where the shoe connection came in. Then, Cedric broke the mould and shut down the cobblers as it had stopped making money years ago and went all high tec and reopened as a mobile ’phone shop. He lived above the shop with his wife Hortense and children, Mathew, Mark, Luke and John.

I knew Hortense from the Mothers Coffee Mornings that Jo hosted.

‘Hello, Cedric.’ I said brightly as I struggled to get the buggy to go around all the boxes and to the front of the shop.

‘’Ello, Sam,’ he said smiling, though how anyone could still smile with quadruplet babies and lack of sleep, defies belief. They had been trying for kids, according to the grapevine, for nearly five years and then, just like buses, four came along all at once.

I finally parked the buggy, put it into neutral and switched the engine off (joke). Then I dummyfied Heather and she started to do her sink plunger impression and cross her eyes in concentration while I fished out the mobile from my voluptuous–sorry, I mean voluminous–bag and handed it to Cedric.

‘It doesn’t work properly.’

‘Mmm,’ he said professionally.

He pressed a few buttons, took the battery out, put it back in again, sucked his teeth, mumbled something in Serbo-Croat, or perhaps gobbledegook and shook his head.

‘It be knackered.’

‘Knackered?’

‘Ar.’

‘Ar?’

‘Ar.’

‘Don’t arse about then; do I need a new one?’

Arse, ‘ar’…se, get it? Witty aren’t I?

‘Yez, ’M’ he said, obviously not realising that he was talking to the female equivalent of Oscar Wilde.

Mind you, he wasn’t big on the hard sell, was our Cedric.

‘So what do you suggest?’ I asked after a pregnant pause.

‘Well ’M, it depends what yer after.’

‘A ’phone.’ I said helpfully.

‘Yes ’M, but do yer want ter text, do photos, Facebook, Tweet, video, play filums an’ music. Do yer want a touch screen, go on ter internet, shop online, GPS, Satnav?’

‘Erm, no, I want to make ’phone calls.’

‘That’s all?’ He asked incredulously as if I had said something a heretic would have been stoned for in days of yore.

‘Yup.’

He shook his head, mumbled something unintelligible and no doubt actionable and then went out the back and rummaged around. After about ten minutes, he came back with a box and put it down on the counter in front of me. He blew the dust off it, making me cough delicately and then he opened the box and handed me a small black ’phone.

‘This is it then?’

‘Yez ’M.’

I flipped it open and the thing had the usual number of buttons. ‘How does it work?’ I asked…..

Half an hour later, I left with the new ’phone in its special leather case and an arm full of must have accessories like in car and out of car charger, screen protectors and spare batteries…just in case. I never knew that it was so complicated just buying a ’phone. Anyway, I wanted to try it as soon as I could so I stopped outside the Bide a Wee tea rooms and ’phoned Abby–but there was no signal.

‘B.U.G.G.E.R,’ I said, but quietly as Little Miss Big Ears was listening and I hadn’t had her tested for alphabetitis yet.

~ §~

A short while later, I was up in my studio singing O sole mio, off key, of course and trying to do some painting.

The singing was my attempt to get Heather off to sleep–it wasn’t working.

Heather was teething now and her face looked red and she cried a lot, not forgetting the nappy rash and slight cold. Nothing unusual for a baby, but because of her previous health problems, naturally we worried.

I was very clingy, re Heather as I may have mentioned before, and was constantly worried that she might be taken from us because of The Wicked Witch in the shape of Great Grandma Victoria. The cow kept writing nasty letters to me and I refused to open them, just taking them to Katie for her to deal with.

Abby was my rock and tower of strength and it was wonderful that I had someone to share my worries and concerns with. As I say, I was in my studio putting the finishing touches to Mummy Dotty and her late husband’s painting. I was quite happy with it and I hoped that Mummy would like it. It should be finished, I hoped, within the next week or so–plenty of time, as her birthday was two weeks away. Sarah, her adopted daughter came around quite often to see how it was getting on, apart from giggling a lot and saying that her mother was never that young and pretty, was she? She had nice things to say about my efforts though.

Tracy and her mum were both out at work, so I was getting all creative and inspirational. I got so excited at one stage; I had to stop for a moment to having a calming cup of tea and obligatory sticky bun before carrying on.

Heather, bless her was now in the land of nod. I think that her laughing at my singing may have worn here out.

All was calm, well relatively calm, as Mrs Pearson was in on her cleaning day and she did tend to throw things about when she’s in the mood. Mr P was outside decapitating flower heads with a certain amount of élan and panache.

I know, I hear you say, why don’t I let Tracy and her mum do the cleaning? Well to tell you the truth, I didn’t want to give Mr and Mrs P the sack, so I just let it slide. Strong aren’t I?

Anyway, I was cleaning my brushes and Mrs P was hoovering and making a lot of noise downstairs. The vacuuming noise ceased abruptly and I heard Mrs. Pearson go downstairs, her hobnailed boots clattering a bit as she went.

I glanced outside and noticed in passing that all the birds in the harbour seemed to rise as one and disappear over the horizon–funny that as the trawlers had just arrived and were full of juicy fish…

The door creaked open, there was the murmur of voices and then the door closed again. After that, I heard the clatter of two sets of feet coming up. One set stopped and then the Hoover went off again and suddenly the door of the studio opened and there she was, larger than life and looking a bit miffed.

‘Hello, Mummy,’ I said as I casually turned the painting towards the wall where she could not see it.

‘There you are, young Sam.’

‘Yes, erm, here I am.’

‘Don’t be a bloody parrot, woman. What yer up to?’

‘Oh, just this and that.’

‘Never mind this and that, where’s me bloody paintin?’

‘Nearly finished, Mummy.’

‘I should think so. At this rate, you’ll have ter put it in the coffin with me.’

‘You are good for years yet, Mummy.’

‘Hmm, flattery‘ll get yer nowhere with me, young lady.’

I did like the ‘young lady‘ reference, but it was obviously not the painting that she had come about as I had spoken about it the other day when we had taken Heather up to the big house for high tea.

She sat down on a chair and then motioned me to do the same.

‘What are yer doin’ about that woman?’

‘Woman?’

‘The one that’s Heather’s great grandmother; what’s her name Victoria Manning? Heard that she’s bein’ a pain in the arse; is it true?’

‘Yes, it’s worrying. She’s threatened me with the SS and everything.’

‘SS? What’s that? Damn SS, we got rid of Hitler and his mob years ago, what all this about them comin’ back? Nothin’ in The Times about it...’

‘Social Services, Mummy.’

‘Them?’ she spat, ‘busybodies, the lot of ‘em; that load of incompetent nincompoops’ve got nothin’ better to do but cause misery to folk. They tried to jump in and get involved when I adopted that young pest Sarah. Put a flee in their collective ear and told ’em ter bugger orf.’

‘Well, it’s all okay on that front. I have met the lady from the S.S and she turned out to be a school friend of Katie’s. The case is now closed. She might contact you at some point to help out with a few of our projects —I’ll jot down her details and give them to you.’

‘Good, we can do with as many troops as possible. So what’s happenin’ about that child who had the baby?’

‘Sophie you mean?’

‘Yes, how is the poor child?’

‘Jo is looking after her.’

‘And the father?’

‘Helping the police with their enquiries.’

‘As long as the sod gets his comeuppance. He made the girl preggers?’

‘We think so.’

‘Should be strung up, but will probably be told not ter be a naughty boy.’

‘Katie thinks that they want to throw the book at him.’

‘It had better be a ‘damn big book–War and Peace at least, I’ll speak to some people.’

‘You can’t interfere with the law, Mummy.’

‘You watch me. Anyway, got ter go, there is a shop in Bodmin that has a new electrifying thing that kills moles. Zaps ‘em or something. Get that bloody painting finished quickly before I’m too old ter see it!

‘Yes, Mummy,’ I said kissing her cheek and tugging my forelock.

‘Hmm,’ she said suspiciously as she went over and inspected her god child who was still happily sucking on her dummy, whilst asleep and blissfully unaware of Her August Presence.

‘Right,’ she said straitening up, ‘don’t ferget you are all comin’ for dinner tomorrow night, best bib and tucker; have ter show the staff that we still do things in style, despite that bloody government!’

‘Are you coming on the yacht at the end of the week?’

‘Oh yes, yer little jaunt. Make sure I have a good cabin, plenty of sea views and caviar on tap.’

‘Erm, right. Also remember, you are going to do the renaming ceremony.’

What are you goin’ to call it?’

‘I thought Dun Romin,’ I said casually.

‘What!’

‘Or maybe The Saucy Sailor.’

‘Over my dead body. Think of sonmethin’ appropriate or I won’t thump the bow with the Bolly. I’m orf now. Jenkins frets if I’m too long, bye.’

‘Bye Mu––’

She had gorn.

I took the opportunity to ring Cedric up on the land line regarding my ongoing mobile problems. According to him, our ’phone reception problems were due to two factors, one we were too far from the aerial–antenna thingy for us to get a good reception and secondly, the council under the leadership of the mayoress, Ms Prendergast, refused permission to have one put up anyway due to aesthetic reasons.

I knew that Dotty didn’t get on very well with the Lady Mayor and I also knew that anyone who asked for planning permission for anything more than a small dog kennel had a tough time getting it through the planning committee which she happened to be the chair whatsit of. According to the grapevine, malicious gossip department, Rosebud Prendergast was power mad and she made Charles Foster Kane look like a bit of a sweetie.

I had seen Ms Prendergast only the once, when the gallery was opened and once was enough. The gossip was that she once had her eye on Dotty’s husband, Tremaine and Dotty won by a furlong and a half. Ever since, whenever they met, it was handbags at fifty paces. Anything that Dotty approved of, Rose Prendergast opposed.

I shelved the problem of Ms Prendergast and carried on with the painting. I just had to get Dotty’s enigmatic smile right…

~ §~

That night, after a round of bedroom gymnastics that were at least 4.9 on the Richter Scale, we lay exhausted on the bed, prior to our post-nookie shower. I liked this time as we were all cuddly and relaxed, if a trifle damp.

‘Abby,’

‘Yes, honey.’

‘When are we going dust off the old turkey baster?’

‘Do you want us to go ahead then?’

‘Yes, if you do?’

‘Of course I do. I can’t wait to look like a beached whale, have back ache, stretch marks and want to wee all the time–not forgetting the tent like dresses, that are so much in vogue now.’

‘I am a bit worried about this sperm problem. We should get our finger out and do it soon.’

‘Interesting turn of phrase you have there, young Samantha. If I didn’t know you better, I would suspect that you were being a trifle risqué in your terminology, but as you are sweet and innocent, I will overlook it, this once.’

‘Oooh, fank you milady, I don’t know wot I’d done if you hadn’t ‘ave dragged me out o’ the gutter like and cleaned me up like.’

‘Oh be quiet child and fondle my nipple.’

After several minutes of asterisks we came off the ceiling and resumed our conversation.

‘I’ll ring up the clinic tomorrow and see if they can fit us in sometime next week after our sea voyage. I don’t want to be sea sick and pregnant at the same time.

And so another busy day had finished and we went to sleep after our shower, happy in the knowledge that we would soon be trying for an addition to our happy little family. Then there was the weekend where we would be shivering our timbers and doing some Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum type things on the seven seas on the ship that I had decided to rename–The Gin Palace.

Got you!

Tune in for the next nautically inclined instalment where Dotty renames the ship––

To be continued…

Please leave comments…thanks! ~Sue

My thanks go to the brilliant and lovely Gabi for editing, help with the plot-lines and pulling the story into shape.