In this chapter, Ruby is shocked and delighted to learn that Beverly has not commited suicide as she returns to earth with a delightful surprise for Ruby.

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NEW SPACETRAN 7

Chapter 7.

Relieved at last I returned to my cottage for a well-earned rest. It was my old family
home and had been in Danby possession almost since the War of Independence. I now only visited my office for three days per week and spent most of my spare time at the cottage wondering if Beverly had finally killed herself. It played on my mind especially when I received repeated unwelcome visits from the ‘rocket scientists’ begging me to get in touch with her. They just would not seem to accept that there was no way I could reach her. Unable to help them with their gravity conundrums I started to sink into depression. As the years passed I was missing the stimulation of Beverly and I was accused of having become a recluse by the press. It was during one of my black introspective periods that she reappeared.

Late one frozen winter’s night I was sitting reading some notes about a new bio-growth process my company was developing but my brain was simply too tired to digest the information. I dropped the pages sleepily on the floor before finishing the dregs from my sherry glass and shuffling to my bedroom. I still lived alone and had now bought much of the land surrounding my cottage so I lived in a sort of splendid isolation. Once in bed I switched off the light to savour the absolute silence of the still winter’s night. Even the trees seemed to be stunned by the bitter cold and the snow lay like glowing pewter in the brilliant moonlight. It was a full moon and I couldn’t help but watch and wonder if Beverly was perhaps lurking behind it.

‘No,’ I told myself, ‘she had probably killed herself,’ my last vision of her deep haunted eyes and pinched pale face was an image that would never leave me.

Suddenly there was a soft tapping on my window and I shivered with fear. My primordial fear of rape surfaced and I reached for the automatic machine pistol that I always kept beside the bed. I set the bolt with a comforting, almost deafening ‘clack’ and stepped back into the darkest corner of the bedroom to await the intrusion. Fortunately my bottle green robe was also dark and as I crouched down in the deep shadow of the corner below the moonlit window, I was virtually invisible to any intruder.
The soft tapping was repeated but I was not to be tricked. As a multibillionaire I was dangerously vulnerable to kidnap and my friend the local sheriff had begged me to get better protected. The machine pistol was my only concession to his beseechment. I crouched tighter into the corner and waited, as the tapping became louder and more urgent.

Then there was a sharp scratching noise and I wondered if some sort of animal was trying to get in. Cautiously I crawled along the floor and slithered up the wall like a cobra preparing to strike. The scratching continued and I suddenly realised it sounded like a diamond on glass. Somebody was trying to cut through the window. This puzzled me and frightened me. The sound of broken glass would not have been heard beyond the boundaries of my estate so why would a burglar take such pains to be silent.
The scratching suddenly stopped and a tinkling of glass followed the last urgent tap. I cursed as the glass dropped at my knees; if I had been nearer to the window it would have cut my head or face. Ifroze before an admonishing voice rang on the freezing air.

“Ruby! I know you’re in there! Why aren’t you bloody answering? It’s me Beverly!”

A rush of pure, unmitigated joy flooded my body as I recognised the urgent feminine squeak immediately and I almost fired the pistol in my excited attempt to secure the gun’s safety catches.

“Beverly!” I shrieked ecstatically. “Go round to the front!”

I heard her heels clicking on the boardwalk around the house and I almost broke my toe as I stumbled blindly for the switch. Then I had the sense to leave it off and the house in darkness. ‘If Beverly had arrived in the freezing darkness of the small hours she obviously wanted to keep her visit secret.’

I gathered an extra robe around me before opening the door to a freezing wave of bitter air. I could not fail to recognise her. She was standing in her inevitable winter attire a mini dress, a short fur trimmed coat, a pair of sixty-denier glossy tights and thigh length heeled boots. A picture of femininity and apparently she still didn’t feel the cold.
Flinging my arms around her I tried to drag her inside but she resisted my efforts and turned to indicate with her hand.

“We’ve got company.”

For a moment I froze but Beverly had lowered her hood and the brilliant moonlight glinted off her blond hair as it revealed her calming smile.

“What company? Who’s out there?”

“It’s OK. You’re quite safe. They’re our children, yours and mine.”

For a second I didn’t understand her. I didn’t have any children. Then my stomach churned.

“The amphib-.” I gasped. “Oh my God!”

Beverly sensed my nervousness and gently hugged me to her.

“Don’t be frightened. They’re not freaks. D’you want to meet them?”

“Of course I want to meet them! Are they in the Albatross?”

“Where else dear? D’you want to go and meet them or shall I invite them here?”

I swallowed nervously. This was a real historical gem! The first proper known alien visit to Earth and some of the aliens were my own children! Just how bizarre was that! I decided to invite them into my own house. It was their absolute right as my children.

“How many are there?”
“Twenty.” Replied Beverly. “Eighteen girls and two boys. We’ve each got nine daughters and a son.

“What do they look like?” I asked feeling guilty that a mother should not be able to recognise her own children.

“Much like you and I. Their amphibian features are essentially internal. They would ‘pass’ on the streets of Earth. They enchant Thlom and his colleagues and I think you’ll be pleased as well. They’re also like us in that they can stand the cold better than amphs. Thlom has come as well and they’ve got a female amph chaperone.”

I gasped at this piece of news and Beverly grinned as she expanded.

“The chaperone is Thlom’s sister but then he’s got hundreds of sisters.”

I remembered their amphibian breeding equation and completed dressing before stepped out into the freezing silent night. I didn’t recognise the much larger spaceship and Beverly turned before I could ask.

“Might I present Cold Albatross 3. It’s more like a bus than a car. The family’s growing.” She grinned.

The new craft was much bigger and the only recognisable feature was the larger radius warp ring. I wondered what had happened to ‘Albatross 2’ and I asked Beverly. She grinned and nodded towards the stars.

“She’s in Stasis off-world. She’s parked behind Pluto to avoid vandalism in case someone has cracked the interstellar drive, although we haven’t seen any ships beyond Pluto as we came in. We’re a ‘two-car’ family now.”

“Who drives Albatross 2 then?”

“Only me and Thlom. She fits inside the hold of Cold Albatross 3.”

Albatross 3 was not hovering like Albatross 2 had done. She was sitting firmly on a set of stout extended legs. Beverly behaved like a gentleman towards me and courteously helped me up the steps but it seemed a bit incongruous that a smaller, weaker, more feminine person should be somehow offering me help. Nevertheless I accepted it graciously and we joined the children inside.

Beverly had been right. To all outward appearances the children exactly resembled humans, indeed I could even see my likeness in each of my own. The only difference outwardly being that they had slightly sallow complexions. A doctor might have thought them slightly jaundiced. Beverly’s were all fair-haired whilst mine varied from fair to dark brown and one redhead. The children gathered round me eager to see their genetic mother and I was overwhelmed with emotion as I tried to hug each and all together. Then I turned to Thlom and their chaperone.

“How do your people take to them.”

“We muddle through and it isn’t easy.” He confessed.

I felt my stomach tighten slightly.

“They don’t suffer any discrimination do they?”

Thlom frowned and spoke softly.

“We see them as our future Ruby, not as a threat. Inside they’re mostly amphs and our people recognise that. We chose the mammalian human skin type because they can better survive the cold for space travel and colonising our other worlds. The hair followed naturally.”

“Will they be able to have babies?” I asked curiously.

“They’ll lay eggs just as we do but only one or two at a time, just as you do.”

“What about mothering?” I wondered aloud.

“We expect their children to hatch as partially limbed tadpoles then they’ll be fed with the nourishment that secrets from those globular glands you female earth-people have on your upper abdomen.”

I squirmed inwardly at his reference to my breasts and I noticed Beverly give a self-conscious twitch. Thlom, ever sensitive, noticed our reactions and smiled.

“What would you prefer me to call them?”

“Breasts Thlom.” I whispered embarrassedly. “We call them breasts.”

“They’re quite important to you aren’t they?” He smiled.

“Yes.” Interrupted Beverly. “Feeding from the breasts is an important part of parent child bonding. They are also very important socially. Like your neck frill.”

At this stage the chaperone spoke. She was a leading geneticist and had been a major influence in engineering the children.

“It’s strange Ruby, but the birth and rearing process is akin to your birds. It seems as if our biological ‘halfway house’ development is parallel to the historic development of life on your Earth. Birds lay eggs and yet bond to their young and care for them. We studied Earth’s birds from wildlife videos that Beverly supplied. It seemed the most practical way to go.”

“So what sort of ‘nest’ will you adopt?”

“Each family will need a small swimming pool. It’ll be as much a part of our houses as a nursery or a crib is for you.”

I smiled then suddenly had a strange thought.

“Wait a minute. With birds, both parents share the rearing equally. How will the father’s bond to their children?”

“Same as the mothers. They will also have glands-, I mean um, breasts to nourish the young.”

I glanced significantly towards Beverly and raised a suspicious eyebrow. She shrugged and raised her hands in innocence.

“Don’t look at me. I had nothing to do with it. They reckoned it was the easiest way to go genetically. An easy way to bond the fathers.”

“But why do they have to bond the fathers. If they come from amphibian herbivorous stock and they’ve never bonded before why start now?”

“We think it’s important if we’re going to colonise our other planets.” Replied Thlom. “There’s lots of dangers on those planets and bonding creates a more efficient unit, the family unit. You have a long-standing religious basis stemming from your anthropological roots don’t you. What was it again? ‘Honour your father and mother’."

I caught Beverly staring tensely at the floor and finally realised her claims of innocence must be true. Beverly understood nothing about families and family values except painand rejection. It was quite obvious that all the genetic anatomical decisions had been based on anthropological and generic factors based on deep studies of both our species’ histories. So the males would have breasts then. I grinned at Beverly and wagged my head.

“Your transvestite wishes have come true then.”

“How so?” She snapped.

“The boys will be able to wear bras and stuff.”

“You don’t get it do you.”

“What d’you mean?”

“They won’t be ‘cross-dressers’ will they. They’ll need to wear bras just like the girls. There’ll be virtually no sexual dimorphism. Just look at the children now. Can you tell which two are the boys?”

Stupidly I gaped at the children and realised there were virtually no telltale signs. Again Thlom seemed to read my thoughts and expanded further.

“There won’t be much sexual dimorphism when they’re adults either. It would take an intimate investigation of their internal primary sex organs to exactly determine their gender.”

“What about their behaviour patterns?” I asked. “Human children often demonstrate their gender by their behaviour.”

“We’re not wholly certain about that. We’ve noticed a few small behavioural differences but essentially expect them to be as unassertive and passive as we are, however there’s no absolute certainty that they won’t have some human other behavioural characteristics. After all we have striven for some like parenting and bonding. Other genetic traits might have spilled over into the test tubes.”

“I hope you haven’t sprung a race of ‘killer bees’ upon the rest of the universe.” I whispered as I studied my children and still wondered which one was the boy. They certainly all seemed to be quite gentle and sociable at the moment. Eventually the one with the red hair squirmed onto my lap and admitted to being the boy. I wondered if the hair might be a gender factor and asked Thlom’s sister.

“We don’t think so. It was just a happy accident. Does red hair run in your family?”

I was forced to confess that I had bright red hair but I dyed it a darker russet colour regularly. Genetic engineering could be such a complex subject and it was possible that other factors might have activated a sexual trigger. His hair was certainly a rich dark Titian red and beautifully groomed. Thousands of earth-women would have died for it. He slid happily off my knee and Beverly’s blond haired son occupied the vacant space without a single spark of envy or animosity. He was the last one and after cuddling him I stood up to let my damp eyes wander affectionately over Beverly’s children and mine.

It seemed Thlom was right; there were some behavioural differences but they were pleasing ones. The boys had chosen to be last to share their affections with me and obviously treated their sisters with a gentlemanly concern. I smiled with gratitude for being allowed to have my own family without all the heartache and stress of motherhood. As a lesbian I knew I would have suffered ostracism if I’d had children on earth. Grateful for the fulfilment of a fundamental female urge I invited them into my cottage. Thlom and his chaperone sister agreed and the children chattered excitedly as they scampered into Albatross three’s dormitory area and donned their anoraks.

As I studied them, they looked exactly like a junior school party on their first school skiing trip. Thlom and Dumia his sister dressed as they had at the breeding ponds and this emphasised the human differences between the amphs and their chosen successors. I felt for the amphs and wondered just how the human race would have reacted to having to alter their whole genetic makeup and interbreed with an alien species. The children shrieked and played in the moonlit snow while Thlom watched them enviously as he huddled from the cold and scuttled with his sister to the warmth of the cottage. Once there we four adults shared a hot drink as the children arrived in dribs and drabs until my overflowing cottage rang to the sound of laughter.

“So Bev.” I asked. “What brings you back to earth?”

“Only your children wanting to see the other genetic half of their origins.”

“Will you be staying long?”

“As long as we dare.”

“But Thlom and Dumia won’t be able to wander about will they?” I remarked feeling guilty for not being able to reciprocate the generosity they had shown me on their world.

“They’ll take the Albatross 3 back to Pluto because it’s too big to hide then they’ll return with Albatross 2 and hopefully hide it in your barn. Thlom’s a good pilot. This cottage is pretty remote so when they return they’ll be pretty safe here.”

The plan sounded sensible. I did not encourage callers to my private hideaway and even the executives of my bio-company avoided contacting me when I was ‘up country’. I had cultivated my reputation as a recluse. The plan was for the children to appear as a school party whilst being driven around and shown the sights. I joined in enthusiastically and within two days we were driving a pair of mini-buses towards New York. The trip passed without incident and we returned back to my cottage cock-a-hoop at our success. It was then that I pleaded with Beverly to explain how the anti-gravity drive worked on the model. She explained that each of the little titanium panels on the model’s hull contained a super-conductive ceramic amalgam core and she downloaded the details from her computer.

“That’s everything. It’s the formula for the ceramic compound, the atomic frequencies and how the power source is harmonised. There’s everything you’ll need and it’s all you’re going to get. All I ask is that once again you make sure that it goes international.”

I gave her my promise and she went to bed early leaving Thlom, Dumia and me to organise sleeping arrangements. My ‘cottage’ was really misnamed for it had several large bedrooms and the children had come well equipped for camping and outdoor activity. They sorted themselves out quickly and before midnight the cottage was silent. Only Thlom, Dumia and I sat up quietly talking genetics and space travel into the small hours.

“D’you think Beverly will ever share her time warp secrets with anybody. It would be nice if our two races could meet and get acquainted.” I asked Thlom.

“She’s said she’ll leave a time-locked capsule to reveal it all after she’s dead.”

“Where does she store all her secrets?” I asked curiously.

“In her head Ruby. It’s all in her head.”

“I’ll bet she’s got a secret information stash hidden away on some remote planet.”

“Well if she has, none of us are going to find it are we. We amphs are not interested anyway. It puzzled us at first, that the children were so keen to find their mother and even more intriguing that Beverly’s children should want to tag along. They have obviously got a human curiosity. We are only here to act as chaperones. We’re not at all interested in space warping and anyway, there are countless billions of planets, orbiting countless millions of stars so the chances of any Earthmen ever finding Beverly’s secret information stash are virtually nil. That is even if she had one.” Finished Dumia with a depressing finality.

She was right of course. Beverly’s secret would remain forever safe unless she was good and ready to reveal it. Defeated I crept up to bed and left Thlom and Dumia sleeping in the old granny bedroom downstairs by the old fashioned pot-bellied stove. Once again I heard Beverly whimpering in her room. This time of course I did not disturb her I but left the landing light on and my bedroom door ajar anticipating a nocturnal visit. I was not disappointed. And she awoke in the morning startled to find herself in my bed. I felt her tense as she suddenly realised she was curled up and ‘spooned’ inside the curve of my body.

“H- how did I get here?” She squeaked nervously.”

Beverly obviously had ‘suppressed memories’ and emotional needs that she knew little or nothing about. My eyes teared up as I explained.

“You sleep walk Bev. You entered my room last night and curled up exactly where you’re lying now. As I spoke I remained perfectly still leaving it for her to decide the next move. She remained tense for nearly a minute before slowly uncurling as our nighties whispered and slithered invitingly against each other. Her soft curves stiffened again as she sensed the tension.

“What’s happening?” She gulped.

“Nothing Bev. Nothing at all.”

“What d’you mean nothing. I meant what’s happening to me? Why am I here?”

I was silently puzzled. I had no idea what was happening to Beverly. My extended ‘lower’ arm had become stiff under her pillow and I dragged it towards me to relieve the aching. Beverly grabbed it like a kitten seizing a piece of string.

“What’re you doing?” She whispered hoarsely. “Leave that hand where I can see it!”

“I’m getting a cramp in my elbow. I was just easing the muscles.”

“Oh. Oh okay then, but no funny business.”

She released my hand and I slowly withdrew it until the aching eased and I was able to rub my arm. As I sighed with relief I stretched my legs and yawned then lay on my back looking at my ceiling. Slowly Beverly uncurled and turned to study me. As she lay resting on one elbow I felt her curious eye’s boring into me.

“You’re quite pretty. Why have you never married?” She whispered.

I turned to face her; afraid to admit my sexuality so I shrugged.

“Dunno. I was busy making my way as a science correspondent when I was younger and brainy girls frighten men off. Then when this bio-company started I never had time for courting.”

I was too terrified to confess I was bi but mostly gay.

She settled with her head deep into the pillow but continued staring at me with the one visible eye. I turned to ask her.

“Now what are you looking at?”

“You. That colour nightie suites you.”

I glanced down at the bottle green nightie and shrugged. I had never thought about it before. I had become so preoccupied with science and my bio-company that I had turned into something of a sartorial bombsite.

‘Maybe it was a way of giving out clear signals to men.’ I thought. I turned to face her and studied her beautiful features framed in the soft blond hair. It was an image that any man would have loved to find on his pillow in the morning. She slowly extended a nervous right hand and searched for mine before insinuating her delicate fingers. I sensed she was worried about something but I had not an inkling of what it was. I felt at once both like a mother with a frightened child and a lover with her beau.

“What’s worrying you?” I ventured cautiously.

“Why d’you think I sleep walk?” She asked.

“I don’t know. D’you do it when you’re alone?”

“I’ve no idea. I always wake up in my own bed.”
“

What about when you’re with the amphs?”

“No. Same thing. I wake up in my own bed.”

“So it’s only around me that you crawl into other people’s beds.”

“It’s only the once.” She objected.

“I beg your pardon Beverly. You did it while we were travelling on the Albatross.”

“What!”

“I said you crawled into my bed when we were space warping. I carried you back to your own bed in the morning so that you wouldn’t be shocked.”

Beverly stared at me with a stunned expression.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” She demanded.

“I was in a pretty tricky situation. I didn’t know what to do. Now you’re on my patch and you seemed like a frightened child so I left you to sleep. Anyway it’s nice sharing a bed and I haven’t done it for years.”

“Nice?” Queried Beverly.

“Yes nice. It’s nice to just cuddle up and feel another’s close company.”

“D’you think that is what I was trying to do.”

“I’m not a psychiatrist Bev. With your background there’s no knowing what you were trying to do. You’re definitely distressed during the dark hours and I must say I’m not surprised. Maybe your subconscious was seeking some sort of comfort, - motherly love or something. As I say, I’m not a shrink.”

”If I squeeze up to you, you won’t try anything will you?” She whined softly.

“I’m not stupid Bev. You’d probably bolt out of an embrace like a frightened fawn.”

I felt her hips gently squeeze up to mine then her soft breasts followed suite and after a minute her whole lithesome body was insinuated in a tight embrace that left me roused, puzzled and embarrassed. For me to find such a beautiful soft feminine companion in my bed was one of my wildest dreams come true. As a lesbian I could not have wished for more. Then I remembered Beverly was actually a man, what was more there was definitely some activity where it mattered. I froze nervously and she released her embrace.

“What’s wrong?”

I nudged her erect organ with my hip and croaked nervously.

“That’s what’s wrong.”

She separated and turned out of bed to stare guiltily out of the window.

I’m sorry. I got carried away. I’ll go to my own bedroom.”

I gaped greedily at the beautiful feminine form framed in the window and swallowed nervously. The temptation was just too much. Gathering courage I whispered hoarsely.

“Don’t do that. Come back to bed. It was just so unexpected.”

“I didn’t expect that to happen either. I’d better go.”

“No. Please stay. It’s lovely having someone to cuddle up to.” I pleaded.

The recent years of being a virtual recluse had had their toll and I now found the pleasure
of sharing a bed overwhelmingly attractive. Even if that other woman was in fact a man. Beverly’s nervous eyes followed my gaze to her groin and she self-consciously lowered her hands like a naked girl. Silhouetted in the window her beautiful body was clearly outlined through the sheer nightie, what’s more the bulge in her panties was painfully apparent. I felt a strange rush of anticipation sweep through my body and reached eagerly across the bed to drag her back under the duvet. She squeaked with fear and struggled briefly before my superior strength overwhelmed her and I pinned her to the bed.

Under her nightie her stiffening nipples were like organ stops and I gently brushed them through the flimsy diaphanous fold. She let out a low moan and squirmed lasciviously as I manoeuvred my dampening groin over the rock hard lump jammed uncomfortably into the crotch of her panties.

“Wait!” She groaned softly as she wriggled her hips until the lump unfolded and straightened up to peep bravely out of the top of her panty waistband.

I realised she was all man in that department and savoured the exciting novelty of a session with the sort of beautiful woman that a lesbian could only dream of yet sporting a splendidly hard erection better than the finest shared dildo.

Once again she winced as I positioned myself and I hesitated uncertainly.

“You’re too heavy. Can I go on top.” She whimpered.

I did a double take for a moment. Normally it was the greedy selfish man that was ‘too heavy’, and who usually took his pleasure without any consideration for the bruised and crumpled woman beneath him. Now I realised I had reversed the roles exactly. I was being the ‘selfish brute’. Apologetically I rolled off her and invited her to reverse the rolls. For a moment Beverly caught her breath then slowly reached across and gently investigated my urgency. I suddenly realised that because of Beverly’s horrendous carnal childhood, she knew nothing about love and affection.

I was dealing with a novice in the art of proper lovemaking. This girl knew nothing about affection, care or compassion. Gently I took her inquisitive fingers and guided them to the proper places as I slowly tugged her head down and crushed her lips to mine. With softly whispered instructions I led her up the path to my nirvana. As her fingers busied themselves on my ‘love button’, my back arched and I squealed with delight Beverly gaped nervously and cautiously withdrew her fingers like some child who had just been caught with its hand in the honey pot. I gently took her hand again and guided it under my nightie for her to rest it lightly on my breast and feel the thundering heartbeat beneath. For several minutes it lay there as my years of frustration evaporated and my heart eventually subsided to a normal rhythm.

“Now it’s your turn love.” I whispered.

Beverly knew what an orgasm was but she had never actually witnessed the full-blown explosive passion of a woman’s climax before.

She burrowed nervously under my nightie and cautiously rested her head on my breasts as I gently massaged her back and shoulders. Once more it was the frightened child syndrome. Incongruently her penis was still as stiff as iron and, more importantly, well sized. I had anticipated that it might be somehow shrunk in parallel with all the other atrophied male features that her body had long ago shed. Gratefully, I gently ran my appreciative fingers up and down her penis’s entire length and she squirmed nervously.

“Don’t hurt him.” She whispered.

“Hurt him? Hurt him?” I giggled kittenishly. “Why he’s the most delicious dessert I could have wished for. I’m desperate for you to try him and I’d never ever hurt him. He’s mine, all mine.”

Possessively I ran my hand down its hard length and carefully insinuated my leg under Beverly’s hips to lever her into the expectant ‘vee’ of my parted thighs. Her tiny frame rolled easily over my leg and her breasts gently brushed against mine. I felt her rigid nipples scrape gently against mine as we let out mutual gasps of ecstasy as I sensed the waves of delight go fluttering to my core.

Simultaneously Beverly’s penis twitched and she gave a little squeak of nervous delight. I felt her rigid incongruency making fruitless attempts to pleasure me so I gently grasped it’s satisfactory girth and carefully guided it in. I was in complete control and carefully allowed it’s rippled length to only enter me bit by tantalising bit. Beverly started to squeak and whimper with delight.

For me it was the ultimate satisfaction of securing a proper guilt free pleasuring with a
real penis whilst simultaneously savouring the lesbian delights of another woman’s body. Strangely Beverly took a long time to climax and I was able to relish several orgasms before she finally exploded into action. Her unexpected screech of delight caused me to tense suddenly in anticipation of a worried thumping on the door.

It was not long coming and Beverly buried herself in a fit of terror as the banging persisted. It was Thlom’s nervous concerned call.

“Ruby! Are you all right?”

“Yes. Go away!”

“Beverly’s gone!”

“What d’you mean gone?” I cursed as Beverly’s terrified fingers dug nervously into my breast. “Stoppit! You’re hurting.” I whispered hoarsely.

“She’s not in her room!” Yelled Thlom.

“It’s OK!” I snapped angrily. “She’s in here with me. She’s alright.”

“What happened?”

“She got frightened last night and came to me for comfort.”

“Is she OK now?” Pressed Thlom.

“Yes she’s fine.” I replied as I caressed the soft blond hair and winced as I gentlylevered the terrified fingers off my agonised breast.

“It’s OK love. They’ve gone. Nobody is coming through that door.”

I had realised what Beverly’s problem was. Throughout her childhood time in care the sight or sound of a bedroom door being opened was a sure sign that some form of night-time abuse was imminent. This was her hangover from the childhood horrors. It was OK for her to instigate a visit to another bedroom but all through the care years her bed and her room had been nothing less than a torture chamber. Even a soft knock on the bedroom door was enough to send her over the edge.

Gently I squeezed her tight to me and was surprised to find a soft pair of lips investigating my nipple. She apparently had a suckling complex when she was afraid. It was hardly surprising considering she had never had a mother.

Eventually she ‘uncoiled’ and appeared from under the duvet. I smiled into her tearstained eyes and gently hugged her to me.

“It’s OK. You’re safe. There’s nobody on the other side of that door.”

Beverly stared at the door with terror in her eyes so I tried some therapy.

“D’you want me to open it and leave it open?”

“Don’t touch it!” She squealed. “I’ll open it when I’m ready.”

I shrugged and clambered back into bed. She immediately snuggled up to me and buried her face into my breasts. I let her indulge her fear and she stayed embedded between my breasts until the smell of cooking wafted through the house. Her head suddenly popped up and she sniffed appreciatively.

“That smells like breakfast.”

“It is, and we should be down there helping.”

With no more ado Beverly slipped out of bed, flung on a dressing gown and ran helter-skelter down stairs to lend a hand. I was left floundering and puzzled by her volte-face then I realised that perhaps the smell of breakfast was some sort of olfactory ‘all-clear’ signal.

When she was in ‘care’ it would have been the first definite sign that the safety of morning and daylight had arrived. I crawled downstairs to find her setting out the cereals on the sideboard as the children started appearing. The two boys were dressed but all the girls were still in their nighties and I cast a curious glance towards Dumia. She shrugged and smiled before commenting on it.

“The boy’s simply rise earlier. It’s a gender thing. The girls take much longer to appear. The boys have already been playing out in the snow while the girls are still dopey with sleep. We couldn’t predict everything. It’s a harmless enough behavioural dimorphism. Rather like the cockerel’s crowing in the morning. I expect we’ll discover some more as they grow.”

I shrugged and sat next to Beverly as the boys promptly joined us and started asking questions. The breakfast then quickly developed into a lively question and answer session and my chance to talk to Beverly was lost. I would have plenty of chances however in the nights ahead. With the Albatross 2 safely hidden in the barn we planned a long motoring tour of the U.S.