No Luxuries. (Nothing of Value).

List of Characters.

Jennifer Ribb Landlord & property developer.
Charlotte Jones. City and County Council welfare housing officer.
Moira Campbell. Letting agent for Jenny.

_________________________________________________________________________

“I don’t know why,” the letting agent replied, “she never has.”

“Then how d’you get hold of her? She must have an address, she must live somewhere!”

“Well if she has and if she does; I don’t know of it.”

“Are you serious!? So the only way you can reach her is by mobile or through her P.O Box number.”

“Correct! We are her agents not her keeper. Your HMSO bylaws only require us to ensure that any housing problems can be addressed within six hours. We can do it in four unless it’s a major issue. She pretty-well gives us a free hand for minor issues. We don’t
often have to contact her; in fact she more often contacts us. Otherwise, she’s pretty reclusive.”

“It seems a weird way to live.”

“It’s her choice.”

The housing officer frowned.

“But all these houses she owns; I mean she obviously counts them of some value but you say she lives like a hermit.”

The agent nodded and shrugged.

“No, I didn’t say she lives like a hermit. I’ve no idea how she lives or where. If we need to contact her we normally phone her and she just emerges out of the ether, and invariably very promptly I might add.”

“Well the housing department wishes to speak with her about some special needs tenants.”

The agent’s eyes narrowed suspiciously.

“What sorts of ‘special needs’?

“We’d prefer to speak to her directly; it’s a somewhat sensitive issue. We see from her portfolio and planning approvals that she has some isolated properties.”

“You mean the ones on Llon y Mynydd?”

“The very same.”

“Well you know where they are, they are right on the border of your district; the very name Llon y Mynydd is the clue. Why would these ‘special-needs’ people need to live way out there?”

“I’d prefer to keep that between the housing department and her, so can I ask you please to organise a meeting?”

The agent sat back in her chair and steepled her fingers before agreeing.

“Very well; have you any particular day or time.”

“A.S.A.P., if she’s agreeable.”

Without further ado, the agent tapped into her mobile and texted a message. After sharing a cup of coffee they were both just about to leave when the text signal ‘bonged’ on the agent’s phone.

“Oh! This is her now. You’re lucky she’s coming down to the office right now with some fire safety certificates for the Llon y Mynydd cottages. If you’re prepared to wait she says she’ll meet you in ten minutes.”

The housing officer smiled with considerable satisfaction; this would probably be the first time anybody from the council had ever met the phantom landlord face-to-face. She was reputed to be one of the biggest letting land-lords in the region but invariably handled all her dealings through her agents. In this city, those affairs were handled entirely by Moira Campbell. The housing officer felt her tummy tense just a little; she had never met a multi-millionaire before. She fell to chatting with the agent.

“What’s she like?”

“Well she’s rather tall for a woman, dresses mostly in skinny jeans, calf length boots and chequered shirts when she’s dealing with her houses. She’s a bit heavy with her make-up and ...”

“No; I mean what’s she like in her personality.”

The agent hesitated.

“Well I’m not sure I should talk about her character. I suppose brevity and frugality are her watchwords. She’s not one for small talk; basically she just comes in to my office, usually with an itemised agenda and goes through the list. Very brief, very professional all done and dusted in half an hour. Sometimes, if it’s the last thing in her day, she might share a cup of tea here with us in this office. She never socialises, not even the local landlord and agents’ annual get together.”

“Yes, we’ve noticed she never comes to the City Council’s landlord forums either.”

“We represent her on those.”

“Yes we’ve also noticed you’re pretty active; your agency has asked some embarrassing questions at times, is that her doing?”

The agent nodded.

“Yes, partly; as I said, she itemises her agenda and calls a spade a spade.”

They chatted some more about the phantom’s portfolio but the agent gave no personal information away. The council already knew how many houses she had in her portfolio so the agent wasn’t betraying any secrets. The housing officer realised the agent was a loyal, discreet and tactful partner in her dealings with the woman they were about to meet. Eventually the noise of diesel engine sounded in the back yard; the agent turned and nodded through her window that looked out over the rear of their offices.

“Here she is. Ten minutes give or take. She’s pretty fussy about punctuality.”

The housing officer looked down to see a tallish woman swing easily out of a pink transit van and enter the offices via the rear door. Moments later a knock on the office door confirmed her arrival.

“Come in Jenny!”

Jennifer Ribb entered, handed a list of repairs and some newly signed fire certificates to the letting agent then waited as the agent introduced them.

“Miss Jones, housing officer for the city may I introduce Ms Jennifer Ribb, one of my principals.”

Charlotte Jones stood up and extended her hand. The hand that shook hers was calloused and bony while the deep red nail varnish looked slightly incongruous. The owner of the hand wasted no time in small talk.

“So Miss Jones, you wanted to speak about special needs tenants?”

“Well’ yes.”

Charlotte was caught off guard by the tall woman’s directness but she recovered her composure.

“But, I’d rather we speak privately, it’s a somewhat delicate matter. May I call you Jennifer or Jenny?”

Jennifer Ribb gave a direct level stare as she contemplated Miss Jones’ request.

“If you wish; now what sort of people are these ‘special needs’?”

“Can we discuss this somewhere more private?”

Jennifer Ribb turned towards Miss Campbell the letting agent and frowned thoughtfully.

“Bearing in mind Miss Campbell handles all my lettings, I think it’s only fair that she should hear what you’ve got to say. There might be all sorts of modifications to this cottage on Llon y Mynydd if the tenants have ‘special needs’. You must know there is a steep hill up to that row, they used to be quarry-men’s cottages when they worked the mountain.”

Charlotte hesitated uncertainly and Jenny waited while Moira Campbell shuffled some papers and pretended to be busy. Jenny spoke again.

“I’m waiting. I think Moira has a right to know what we can expect. I don’t much like surprises, especially if they cost me money.”

Charlotte took a deep nervous breath and revealed.

“Uuuuhhm, these special needs aren’t physically disabled or intellectually impaired.”

“So what other kinds are there?” Jenny asked bluntly.

“Well that’s just it, that’s why I’d like to speak to you privately, it’s ahem; a bit delicate. I’d be quite happy to hammer out the details with Miss Campbell after I’ve uuuuhhm, sounded you out.”

Jenny turned to Moira and raised her eyebrows.

“Would you object if we spoke privately ... here in your office? Or if you wish, we could speak in my van.”

Charlotte interrupted.

“I think I’d prefer to speak in your van if possible. This is quite a delicate matter.”

“Oh very well; but Moira will have to know eventually.”

Jenny led the housing officer to the van in the back-yard and zapped the locks as they approached. Charlotte joined her in the driver’s cab and noticeably relaxed once she was certain of not being overheard. Jenny came straight to the point ... again.

“So what on earth are these special needs? If they are anything to do with drugs or prison rehab, I don’t want to know.”

“It’s nothing like that, are there any other groups that you have objections to?”

Jenny choked a snort of amusement as she replied.

“Heck yes! Anybody who’s got a past record with damaging their houses; the repair costs always outstrip their deposits. Law-breakers and neere-do-wells mainly. Can you get to the point?”

Charlotte felt a sagging feeling in her belly; it seemed that Jennifer Ribb was something of a harridan. She took a long slow deep breath and ventured forth.

“What d’you know about the transgendered condition?”

Jenny squinted suspiciously.

“A bit, why?”

“How do you feel about them?”

“I’m presuming this is the so-called special need you were referring to?”

“Yes but you haven’t answered my question.”

“You want to know my feelings towards them. Well I suppose they’re just like other people but why, d’you refer to them as ‘special needs’? Wouldn’t that imply they’re somehow disabled or impaired?”

“To some people they are,” Charlotte observed.

“Well I’m not some people. Provided they don’t wreck my property and pay the rent on time I don’t suppose I’d bother them.”

“So you say you’d be prepared to accept a tenant who was openly transgendered?”

“I haven’t said anything yet, so why have you come to me?”

“We’ve got some tenants who are being troubled by transphobic neighbours and we’re looking to find them a safe place.”

“Why not just tell the police?”

“The police can’t be around 24/7. As far as these tenants are concerned, they’re surrounded by the neighbours from hell.”

Jenny shrugged then replied.

“These people, as you call them, usually move away ... to the big cities mostly, where their circumstances are buried under their anonymity.”

“That’s what they’ve already done, they moved here from a small village. They thought they’d find anonymity here after their same-sex marriage.”

“So how where they ... what’s the word I should use here ... discovered? Outed?”

“Somebody in the housing department inadvertently disclosed it because there had been some issues with previous tenants in the house they now occupy.”

Jenny stared at Charlotte directly.

“I’m getting vibes here, is that on the Blaena estate ... the ghetto? That’s where you usually dump your problem tenants.”

Charlotte nodded somewhat shamefacedly. Jenny frowned.

“So you placed this pair in a sink estate, a ghetto where you dump all your problem families, an estate that’s already had troubles over sex offenders being housed there and riots because of it. You’re telling me you dumped a vulnerable couple right into a hotbed of discontent.”

“We had nowhere else to put them.”

“Oh come off it! You’ve got hundreds of houses, what about the Llandyn estate. That’s a lovely area with settled families and an old established community.”

“The chief housing officer thought it was a bad idea, the council might be accused of showing undue favouritism. We like to place proven tenants with good payment records up there. New tenants have to prove themselves.”

“I thought you were supposed to be impartial to all.”

“Not any more, the new legislation enables us to judge and select.”

“And evict I suppose.”

“Only if they prove to be completely unsuitable. Damaging property, abusing neighbours, and so on.”

“Where this transgendered couple abusing their neighbours; damaging the property?”

“No. In fact, just the opposite, they had a lovely garden until the neighbours discovered their circumstances.”

“But they’re the ones being penalised, they’re the ones being evicted.”

“We’re not evicting them; we’re looking for alternative accommodation.”

“In the private sector. Pull the other leg! You’re dumping them; getting rid of the problem.”

Charlotte became angry, mainly because she felt hurt and slightly threatened by Jennifer’s cynical perspicacity.

“We are not dumping them! The fact is we cannot guarantee their safety on any of our estates, even in the Llandyn Estate and that’s where we tend to place our proven and reliable tenants.”

“But! There’s a 'but' coming, isn’t there?”

Charlotte paused as she gathered her thoughts. Jenny pressed on and Charlotte sensed she felt something else driving the woman’s seeming aggression.

“You can’t find a safe solution so you’re thinking to isolate them from any neighbours. No neighbours, no abuse. I’m sure you’ve already been out to check Llon y Mynydd, it couldn’t be any more remote and yet remain inside the county boundary.”

Charlotte let a brief nervous smile flicker across her face.

“Well, yes; it is. I counted twelve properties and a one larger house.”

“Yes, twelve quarrymen’s cottages and the quarry manager’s house. I brought them as a job lot at auction. I bought the cottages on the other side further up as well and the mountain with the quarrying rights as well.”

“Are they all let?”

“The bottom twelve and the manager's house are ... just about; I’m renovating the last pair now. The top cottages are stage two of the project. That’s where I was just coming from with the fire certificates and some builder’s receipts when I got Moira’s text.”

“Have you got tenants for them?”

“I’ve got prospective tenants for number eleven, none for number twelve.”

Charlotte’s eyes widened hopefully.

“Would you be interested in taking two transgendered people?”

“I haven’t said no ... but I’m not saying yes; at least not until I’ve met them and inspected the current home.”

“I can vouch for them, the house is clean and in excellent order, their garden was until the neighbours wrecked it.”

Jenny sucked her cheek and bent her head.

“No time like the present. Let’s go up there now.”

“But it’s five o’clock! I’d have to give them notice.”

“Yes and it’s Friday as well. Surely you can spring a little surprise on them; it’s only landlord harassment if you repeat the visits and they are frightened. It’s a summer’s day and there’s plenty of daylight until seven! At least we’ll see how they really live if they haven’t been forewarned. If you’re that keen to re-house them, work with me. I won’t be here again until Wednesday, I’m off up-country.”

Charlotte didn’t want to miss an opportunity so she agreed then Jenny observed.

“We’d best go in your car, my van is pink and that might invite trouble if we’re visiting a bunch of trannies!”

Charlotte bristled slightly at Jenny’s remark.

“We don’t refer to them as trannies!”

“No, you refer to them as ‘Having special needs’, I think that’s worse, it implies they are somehow dumb or crippled.”

“We don’t use those words either ...”

“No, I suppose that's not politically correct in your circles either.”

Charlotte pursed her lips and bit her tongue. Moira had warned her that Jennifer Ribb the business woman was a somewhat outspoken and blunt.

Jenny paused as she prepared to lock her van.

“I better hadn’t leave my briefcase and laptop in the cab, wait a mo’”

So saying, she yanked the sliding side door and put the items in a metal locker then locked it before zapping all the van doors. She turned to find Charlotte staring curiously.

“D’you have another sideline besides property?”

Jenny shrugged; “No.”

“So why d’you keep all those clothes on the van?”

“Where else would I keep them?”

“At home,” Charlotte suggested with a slight hint of sarcasm.

“I don’t have a home.” Jenny replied as though it was the most normal situation.

Charlotte could hardly believe her ears as she started her car. Eventually she recovered from her disbelief as she picked her way into the traffic.

“Are you serious?”

“About what?” Jenny wondered having already forgotten about what she’d said.

“About not having a home.”

“Oh that. Perfectly serious.”

“So where d’you live?”

“Where ever the night finds me.”

“I don’t follow.”

“Wherever I end up when evening falls. Nearly always a hotel.”

“You live in hotels?”

“Mainly. Yes.”

“Are you saying you own dozens of houses but you don’t live in one?”

“Correct.”

“Might I be cheeky and ask why?”

Jenny’s answer was short and to the point. She had obviously juggled with her reasons and actions plenty of times to the point where she was now pretty much fixed in her life-style choice and had her explanations off pat.

“I don’t much like physical possessions, especially if they are just a frivolous luxury.”

“But you own scores of houses!”

“I don’t see them as physical possessions because I don’t physically use them.”

“Most people would consider a roof over their heads as a necessity, not a luxury.”

“A hotel can provide that roof and I don’t have to own it or worry about it.”

“But you have to worry about your houses.”

“I don’t. I think of them as a business portfolio, much like a bundle of documents. I also keep them at a distance and I let my agent manage them so I don’t have to worry about them.”

“But you were sorting out fire certificates this afternoon. That’s being worried by the houses isn’t it?”

“Not really, like I said, it’s mostly paperwork. That’s simply handling the portfolio. Besides, it was the finalisation of a new idea coming to fruition.”

“So you are telling me you don’t own any home or furniture or anything.”

“Not as such, not as fixtures and fitting in a house. I have to have a few necessities like clothes and this van but otherwise not much else.”

“Dare I ask why?”

“Possessions only get stolen, especially expensive luxuries. The most expensive personal things I own are the van and my lap-top. My clothes are mostly every-day stuff and my jewellery is all junk bling.”

Charlotte turned into a cul-de-sac and pulled up outside a house that had obviously seen better days. They knocked on the door and a nervous voice called from within.

“Who is it?”

“It’s the council housing officer, Charlotte Jones.”

“Wait a minute.”

As they waited on the doorstep, Jenny’s eyes roamed professionally over the property and they told her a lot. Many of the garden plants had recently been disturbed, obviously replanted and some crude graffiti had been scrubbed but not entirely erased. Obviously the occupants had been the victims of some un-neighbourly attacks. Several heavy bolts clunked behind the door and it finally opened slightly before the security chain prevented it opening any further. Two pairs of nervous eyes peered out, recognised Charlotte then turned to study Jenny. Charlotte introduced Jenny.

“This is the lady I told you about, she has houses to let where you’ll be safe ...”

“Er,” Jenny finished the sentence then repeated, “safer.”

The eyes peered nervously for several seconds then slowly the chain was slipped link by link through the lockjaw behind the door. To Jenny it was obvious the people behind the door were taking no chances. Finally there was a jingle as the chain dangled free and the door opened.

“Come in.”

The owner of the brown eyes invited them while the blue eyes scanned nervously around the front lawn for any unwanted extras. Once past the threshold, the door closed quickly but quietly and Jenny found herself in a dark narrow hall with little natural light. It was only as she turned to take off her checked work shirt did she notice that the skylight above the door was boarded in. Charlotte wasted little time on introductions as she got straight down to business with the transgendered pair.

“I’ve come to tell you I might have found you some suitable accommodation and this lady is the owner of the house I’ve got in mind.”

As she spoke, Jenny’s experienced eye was checking over the state of the house. She noted provisionally that the place was clean and tidy even if the furnishings were tired and old.

‘Poor but caring’ sprang to mind, ‘will they be able to pay the rent?’ she wondered.

As she continued taking in details she was suddenly brought back to earth by Charlotte’s voice

“I said the accommodation has just been renovated, is that right Miss Ribb?”

“Uuuhm, whassat? Uuuhm no, it’s still being renovated. Just the decorating to finish.”

“Oh so perhaps a week.”

“No; two days.” Jenny replied.

She noted the hopeful look that flickered between the two pairs of eyes.

“Does that mean we can move in after the weekend?”

“Tuesday or Wednesday I wasn’t counting the weekend. Have you got transport for your furnishings? Jenny asked.”

The pair wagged their heads.

“Sorry, no.”

“Well I can sort something out, I have my own van and I know another man with a van.”

Charlotte had some misgivings about a pink van turning up to collect two transgendered people and their belongings but she said nothing. Then Jenny answered her unspoken question.

“We’d best arrange for a police presence when we take your stuff. My van is a bit ahem, high profile.”

The eyes exchange more silent though significant looks but said nothing as Jenny continued.

“I’ll arrange to be here at eight a.m., on Wednesday. I find with most neighbours from Hell, they are usually still in their drunken stupors and too hung-over to get up that early.”

“You’re being very presumptuous Miss Ribb!” Charlotte protested.

Jenny gave the Housing officer and old look born of long years of renting out properties.

“You think?”

Charlotte fell silent. She knew at heart this outspoken, opinionated woman was probably right but political correctness prevented her from showing the slightest nuance of agreement. Besides, she was already standing in a politically unstable minefield whilst dealing with the housing needs of a transgendered couple. There were still a myriad transphobic bigots working for the council. Charlotte bit her tongue before moving on to change the subject. Secretly she would be glad if the police attended because she did not fancy being in the middle of some violent hateful abuse if it all took off.

“So ladies, can we discuss rents and other aspects of the contract.”

Jenny turned and advised Charlotte and the transgendered pair.

“It won’t be the same contract as the council’s housing contract. I apply different standards and conditions; I hasten to add that they are legal and enforceable. Additionally, my houses are of a higher standard!”

She turned pointedly to the housing officer almost daring her to disagree. Charlotte remained silent so Jenny continued by asking the girls.

“Do you have jobs?”

Both girls’ expressions clouded as they knew what was coming next. They wagged their heads silently. Jenny nodded as she pursed her lips.

“I thought so,” she turned to Charlotte, “so it’s housing benefits all around.”

Charlotte nodded.

“Are you okay with that?”

“My profit margins might take a bit of a knock but at least I’ll have filled the houses quickly. Oh, and don’t expect this sort of favour every time, the only reason I’m prepared to accept this pair is because I can see that they’ve made the effort to keep their house clean, tidy and in reasonable repair.”

“Pair?” Charlotte bristled again. “Must I remind you that they are a couple, they are married!”

Jenny shrugged.

“What’s in a word? It’s no skin off my nose. I think you’re letting your political correctness slip show again.”

Charlotte glared but she was just relieved to have sorted the couple’s problems. Then a thought struck her.

“Oh, there’s one thing I have to ask. I’m sorry to ask this but it’s important and delicate.”

Jenny sighed somewhat impatiently; it was now nearly seven o’clock on a Friday evening and the week had been a hectic one what with finalising the completion of a whole row of quarry-men’s cottages.

“Very well Miss Jones fire away.”

“Do you think your other tenants in the other cottages will be accepting of these ladies?”

Jenny pursed her lips again then sucked her teeth. It was a habit that set Charlotte’s teeth on edge for it seemed this woman although direct and forthright, never seemed to give an immediate answer. Once again after a longish pause, true to character, Jenny finally gave a direct answer.

“Yes. If they aren’t; there is a ‘good neighbour clause in the tenancy agreements. Any bad-neighbourliness and they’re out.”

“Is that legal?” Charlotte wondered.

“Yes, subject to court proceedings. Don’t worry, I’ve run it by the best Lawyers in the district. Listen Miss Jones, I’ve been in this business a good few years now. Once bitten twice shy. I don’t have the Council’s benefit of generous European grants to repair or upgrade my houses; I have to fund all my own repairs and improvements!”

Charlotte sensed the distinct undertone of grievance so she quickly moved on by turning to the transgendered couple.

“Very well then. Ladies, eight a.m., Wednesday it is.”

With the deal finalised she made to leave but Jenny had one last issue to sort. From her capacious handbag she produced a sheaf of plasticised pages and handed them to the girls.

“This is a copy of the contract; you will see that every clause has to be countersigned but that will be on our mutual contracts when you receive them on Wednesday. This copy is simply for you to study over the weekend. Good day and I hope you like the cottage.”

In the car, Charlotte tried to be sociable but it seemed Miss Ribb was not disposed to idle chatter. She simply annotated some notes to what was obviously another copy of her normal tenancy contract. Charlotte could see several different coloured comments and deduced it applied to different types of properties.

‘This woman’s efficient’, she told herself.

Eventually Jenny returned the sheaf to her handbag and clicked her pen into the top pocket of her work-shirt.

“All sorted?” Charlotte asked.

“Couple of issues to sort; busy, busy, busy.”

“I’ll say,” Charlotte agreed, “normally I’m home by now and getting ready to party.”

“Each to their own.” Jenny replied, ignoring the hint.

Charlotte concluded Jenny was not interested in partying and concluded her age proscribed her from the hectic whirls of dance, loud music and alcohol. She changed the subject again.

“Tell me, why don’t you actually own your own home? I can’t get my head around that, especially as you own scores of houses.”

“I’ve never wanted possessions, well, unessential ones ... luxuries. They’re just targets for thieves and bullies.”

“Bullies? How does that figure?”

“It started when I was a kid. If you had something nice the other kids ... the bigger kids, always stole it. It got to the stage where I got tired of fighting to recover my stuff. All it achieved was getting me into trouble with the social workers. I gave up in the end because it caused me to acquire a reputation as a trouble-maker . The only way I could see to avoid trouble was to avoid having nice things. The obvious logical step was simply not to accept any nice things. They were usually what I didn’t want and didn’t need anyway. It became just as easy to give them away and then I avoided any hassle. If you didn’t have things, the other kids left you alone. In the end I owned nothing but the clothes I stood up in. You can’t steal from somebody who’s got virtually nothing.”

So saying Jenny started texting somebody on her mobile while Charlotte drove. After sending the message, she stared absently through the passenger window. The silence endured for a minute or so until Charlotte plucked up some courage. She had been mildly shocked by Jenny’s words and she wondered if it was sensible to probe further. Some of Jenny’s remarks hid more than they revealed. Charlotte wondered if Jenny was opening up a bit. People did that with her, she didn’t know why but people often revealed stuff to her ... perhaps it was something in her nature. Cautiously she probed gently.

“The other kids? You mean your siblings?”

“Nah, the kids in the homes.”

“Is that what you were meaning when you mentioned the social workers?”

Jenny replied slightly distractedly.

“What? Oh the social workers; oh yes, the workers in the homes, the carers.”

“Are you saying you were in care?”

Jenny didn’t reply and Charlotte was astute enough to realise it could be for a myriad reasons. She did not press her question and the silence settled again. When they got back into the city Jenny collected her van and they arranged to meet on the Wednesday morning.

Jenny left to go ‘up-country’ whilst Charlotte decided to re-visit the cottages on Llon y Mynydd.

It was dark when she arrived at the line of quarrymen’s cottages so there was little to see. As she expected, the last cottage was unlit whilst showing all the signs of decorators having occupation. A neat pile of empty paint-pots lay at the end of the short garden path and the white-washed windows confirmed that the privacy precautions were still in place to prevent opportunist thieves peering in. She drove up to the end of the lane past the first cottage and turned in a gateway that served the single larger house that had once been the quarry manager’s. As she manoeuvred a sensor beam activated and the driveway light came on. A few seconds later, a woman appeared in the driveway and approached Charlotte’s car.

“Can I help you?”

Charlotte hesitated then decided to come clean.

“Yes, perhaps you can. I’m Miss Charlotte Jones from the city housing department. I have two tenants moving into the last cottage and I was just doing a last check before moving them in next week.”

The woman paused cautiously then asked a question that would partially authenticate Charlotte’s explanation.

“So you’ll have spoken to the letting agents then; who did you speak to?”

Charlotte realised she was being scrutinised and pulled out her identification even as she answered.

“I spoke to the agent Miss Moira Campbell and Miss Jenny Ribb the owner of these cottages. She didn’t accompany me because she’s got an appointment ‘up-country’ as she described it.”

The lady checked over the identity card and nodded. Charlotte’s adoption of the expression ‘up-country’ and her knowledge of Jennifer Ribb’s weekend plans was confirmation enough.

“If you’re checking over the cottage, I suppose you’d like to see inside.”

This was something of an unexpected bonus for Charlotte and she nodded eagerly.

“Very much so, would that he okay?”

“One moment, I’ll go and get my companion and the three of us can go. Would you like to text your office to say where you are?”

Charlotte recognised the woman’s natural caution and she did exactly as suggested. She texted her friend the duty social worker to tell her exactly where she was. The reply came by return.

‘Make sure your safe, it’s pretty remote up there.’

Charlotte replied.

‘If I don’t contact you in ten minutes, alert the police.’

She just finished texting when the lady and another female companion returned jingling a set of keys.

“We sometimes double as house-sitters for Jenny and show prospective tenants around.”

Charlotte drove back down the lane and waited a few seconds before the couple rejoined her and led her through the neat little garden gate. After having been shown around she was impressed and said so.

“There’s a lot been done, I didn’t realise she’d extended some of them out the back.”

The two women exchanged glances as the first one explained.

“They’re designed for single people or couples, not enough room for children or families. This last one’s for a couple, hence the extension.”

Charlotte found herself enthusing.

“It’s just perfect. I simply didn’t realise so much could be done with these cottages. They’ve been derelict for over twenty years. She builds to a very high standard, doesn’t she? The finish and fittings leave nothing to be desired.”

The pair nodded then made their excuses.

“Well Miss Jones, if you’ve seen what you want to see, we’ve got stuff to do up at the house. “

“Thank you ladies, I’ve seen all I need to see and I’m more than satisfied.”

Back in the lane, Charlotte texted her colleague and was mildly surprised to see several children meeting the two women as they approached the drive of their house. She sat looking in the driving mirror as the children, all girls, skipped and shouted happily around the two women. With duty done she drove home.

~o00o~

The following Wednesday Charlotte arrived at the transgendered couple’s house punctually and was relieved to see a police car parked discreetly in a cul-de-sac while Jenifer Ribb’s vivid pink transit van was already parked outside the house. Another white van with two well built men, was parked behind it. Jenny was talking to the tenants so Charlotte approached.

“Morning everybody. Glad to see you’ve got two stalwarts to help Miss Ribb.”

“Many hands Miss Jones; many hands.”

“Indeed, shall we start?”

By ten o’clock the heavy work was done but a small crowd had gathered to watch. They were local women and some had their pre-school children with them. Charlotte could sense the antagonism but the two removal men plus the visible police presence served to keep the peace. By eleven the house was empty and the convoy had departed while Charlotte remained to make an assessment of the house. She was pleased with the condition for it required little more than a lick of paint to freshen it up, something rare on the Blaena estate. As she sat filling in forms in the car several women approached. Jenny looked up.

”Yes ladies.”

The self appointed spokeswoman firstly declared aggressively.

“Good riddance to bad rubbish; bloody perverts!”

Charlotte didn’t bother to argue for it would only have invited further aggression. Instead she resolved to find the worst family on the transfer list and let these bigots know what it was like to have really bad neighbours. Charlotte had the perfect nemesis in mind. A family that had proven to be a desperate thorn in the side of several city housing departments throughout the country and had now moved on to her patch. They had already been evicted once but sadly it was the council’s legal duty to find them shelter. For Charlotte the thought of placing these vermin in the street of bigots and bullies was sweet music.

After completing the transfer forms, she locked the house, advised the police that the security fitters would there within the hour to secure the house then she left to follow Jenifer Ribb’s convoy up Llon y Mynydd. She arrived to find the move going smoothly and two more neighbours actually lending a hand. Seeing this, Charlotte approached Jennifer who was chatting to the two ladies who had met Charlotte on the previous Friday night.

“Hello again ladies,” Charlotte said as she glanced inside the almost empty vans. “Almost through I see.”

“Four strong men,” Jenny replied. “What did I say earlier? Many hands.”

“Are they neighbours then?” Charlotte asked.

Jenny nodded and explained.

“Yes, they work shifts and they’re off today, change of shifts and stuff. Another reason I recommended Wednesday.”

Charlotte found herself studying the men and slowly it dawned on her as she noted little details that betrayed their secrets. The four removal men were gay. They obviously looked after their bodies, they had well toned muscles plus manicured hands and nails, and they took extreme care with the decor and furnishings. The evidence was overwhelming.

Finally the last item was installed in the house and the men chatted happily with Jennifer and the other two ladies.

“So when’s the house-warming then?” One of the men asked nobody in particular.

“You’d better ask the new girls. They’ll probably take a few days to get settled in.” Jenny giggled as she turned to the two women from the house.

“I suppose it’ll be the usual routine, and you’ll hold it up at the house.”

“Yes, the cottages are too small to hold everybody. “ One of the furniture removers observed. “Best we hold it up at the house; it’s become a tradition now, hasn’t it? Like the big-house has become a de-facto community centre.”

Charlotte was listening intently.

“Tradition? What tradition is that? These cottages have only come on line this past twelve months, I’ve been looking back through the planning applications and permits.”

The man deflated slightly but smiled easily.

“Well yes technically you’re right; it’s not a long-standing tradition but it doesn’t take long for a community to start its own traditions. We all pitch in and help around here, good neighbourliness and all that.”

Charlotte frowned as she realised.

“Do you two live up here as well then?”

Yes, number three. The one with the pink roses around the window.”

“Oh, I see! So you know about the traditions.”

“We helped start them and the traditions have stuck, because they are good traditions ... like pitching in to help a neighbour ...?”

The guy grinned; just daring Charlotte to disagree.

As she recovered her composure a warm glow of relief settled over Charlotte as she replied.

“Well, yes, something like that’s got to be a good tradition.” One of the other guys added.

“L,B, G, T, U,.” Says it all.”

Charlotte turned curiously; she knew perfectly well about LGBT but why had he turned the letters around. She asked not out of ignorance but curiosity.

“Why L,B,G,T ,U.? I always thought it went LGBT. What does the ‘U’ stand for?””

The guy grinned slightly embarrassed as he turned to Jennifer.

“Sorry Jenny, have I let something slip?”

Jennifer Ribb shrugged.

“Not really. I suppose it would have got out eventually.”

Charlotte’s eyes narrowed with curiosity.

“What would have got out?”

“Have you not noticed anything odd around here; well not odd but well, different.”

Charlotte looked around her and suddenly realised that the neighbours had seemingly gathered in pairs, just like jackdaws flocking.

At a glance, jackdaws seemed to form huge noisy flocks but a closer inspection showed that the birds always seemed to group in pairs and the noise the flock made comprised the individual identity calls of each individual pair ... unless danger threatened.
The strange thing about the Llon y Mynydd pairs was that each pair appeared to be same gendered couples. The realisation crashed into Charlotte’s brain.

‘The whole community was LGBT!’

As she recovered from her surprise she felt bound to ask, “So why LBGTU instead of LGBT?

One of the two women from the big house explained.

“Let’s Be Good To Us., simple isn’t it?”

Charlotte wagged her head in silent astonishment then looked up to see Jenny studying her. The faintest whisper of a smile played along Jenny's lips and Charlotte scolded her gently.

“You’ve been playing me along.”

“Some,” Jenny replied, reverting to her usual monosyllabic self. However the slight smile betrayed her deeper nature.

Charlotte squinted knowingly.

“Not some ...lots!” Charlotte argued, “But lots of nice. So how did you get involved in this project? Can I call it a project?”

“Call it what you like. You don’t get it do you?”

“Get what?” Charlotte replied as puzzlement wrinkled her brow.

“I’m Tee as well,” Jenny explained almost in a whisper.”

Charlotte gasped in disbelief as she observed.

“My God girl!! Seriously! You’re good! I’d never have read you!”

The smile on jenny's lips widened to a grin but she didn't say anymore, instead she shrugged again then made to get in her car. Once seated she wound down her window and spoke to the couple from the house.

“Well, it’s all sorted here, let me know when the house-warming is, bye-bye.”

Charlotte recovered from her stupefaction and squealed her protest.

“No you can’t go yet. There’re forms to sign. These two are listed as ‘At risk’ because of the gender issues.”

Jenny smiled disarmingly.

“D’you think so? I’d like to think they are not at risk up here, that’s the whole reason I made this a gay village.

“But please, wait a few moment, there really are forms to sign Jenny!”

It was the first time Charlotte had addressed her as Jenny in front of tenants and other people. Jenny shrugged, got out of her van and took the clip-board to rest it on the cottage wall. Briskly she completed the familiar forms and handed back the board.

Charlotte was desperate to prolong the encounter so she boldly offered an invitation.

“You might as well stay for that cup of tea the boys are making.”

Jenny turned to the boys and they nodded agreeably so she concurred with a broad smile.

“Okay, but it’s not to turn into an all-day party boys, you’ve caught me like that before.”

“Tosh Jenny! You enjoyed it as much as the rest of us.” The gay grinned.

“Yes, well this time I’ve really have got stuff to see to. Just a few minutes. I mean it!”

Charlotte felt the warm glow suffuse her body. She wondered if it was safe for her to ‘come out’ then decided it might be too early. Better perhaps to come out privately to this rare bird, this Jenny Ribb.

~~oo000oo~~