This chapter describes the childrens presents after the certainty of their having accepted Skipper changing permanently to Beverly. Beverly buys Jennifer and Beatrice each a pony then Margaret and Sian decide on buying their children Chennile and Martin each the same.

The second part of the chapter explores Beverly's heterosexuality and the strange exploration of it by Margaret and Sian.

Wi-i-ild horses; couldn't take you from me!

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I slept well that night and, unusually, I slept through the first rays of sunrise. This was unusual because my entire life at sea had ingrained in me a habit of waking with the sunrise unless some other incident woke me.

That Sunday morning I was still sleeping long past sunrise and was unexpectedly woken by the added thunder of four pairs of feet rumbling down the landing. I was still struggling to ‘re-arrange’ myself and make myself decent as four thunderbolts burst through my bedroom door and crash-landed on to my king-sized bed. I gave a loud yell of pretended surprise and ducked laughing under the duvet just as the first child was landing on the bed. It was simply to check the bust tie-ribbons on my sleep suite and check any untoward swellings or exposures under my panty girdle. Finally I emerged with a smile as the last squealing, laughing body crashed into the squirming pile of arms and legs.

“What are we doing today Beverly?” Demanded Jenny loudly as she stopped bouncing and they all started burrowing under my duvet.

“I don’t know what do you want to do?”

My earlier yell had alerted the other adults and soon everybody was sitting on my bed as we debated what to do. I had noticed however that the adults hadn’t rushed into my bedroom and I concluded that perhaps they were not too concerned about Martin and Chenille joining Jennifer and Beatrice cuddled up against me under the duvet. After arguing and chattering for several minutes Sandie finally came up with an excellent suggestion.

“Bev; what about that thing we were talking about on Friday?” She suggested.

In the hubbub of the children arguing and fidgeting under my duvet, her words were lost to the children but I caught her suggestion and raised two questioning eyebrows

For a moment I stared blankly at her until she discreetly put two fingers up the sides of her head and slowly ‘rotated’ them around like a horse’s ears.

I silently mouthed ‘horses?’ and she mouthed back ‘ponies’.

‘Of course!’ I realised. Sandie and I had discussed the ponies but put it on the back burner until the Skipper — Beverly issue had been resolved with Jenny and Bea. Now that things seemed settled there seemed to be no serious problems with Skipper and Beverly being the same person, the idea of the children having ponies, looked more attractive. It was no good buying ponies only to have to sell them a short time later if my relationship with the girls deteriorated because of the Sipper - Beverly Issue. Now things seemed set fair for the future.

I mouthed again to Sandie, ‘Shall you tell them or shall I?’

Without hesitation, Sandie mouthed ‘you!’

I paused for a moment then called loudly or silence. The four of them continued fidgeting and giggling under my duvet and it was another minute before we finally had peace. Once it descended, I made my declaration as four curious heads emerged from under my duvet.

“Right! I know what we can do. I’ve got a big surprise.”

They were about to demand ‘What?’ But I ordered them to go and get dressed.

With the children out of my bedroom, I explained to Mrs Bodkin, Margaret and Sian about my earlier discussion with Sandie about buying the girls a pony each. They all knew about the unused barns, stables and paddocks.

“What about caring for them. D’you know anything about horses?” Asked Mrs Bodkin.

“Uuuhh, well -, actually no” I confessed.

“So you’d have to employ an ostler or somebody.”

I fell silent. The last thing I wanted was some strange man about the cottage and the barns. It would only need one slip by the girls and my secret could be out.

“I’ve had plenty of experience with horses.” Declared Sian as she sensed my uncertainty.

“What! Where?” I asked excitedly.

“I was county champion and southern area champion show-jumper in the section B for two years running when I was younger. I used to stable my own horse and train him.”

“Oh! That’s fantastic! But how would you manage? Why did you give it up?”

Sian glanced at Margaret and they smiled at each other as Sian replied.

“I found a bigger interest in Margaret and my parent’s disapproved. They kicked me out and even denied me the use of the family farm and stables. I couldn’t afford a place of my own and my riding career all fell apart.”

I sensed Sian’s bitterness at her parent’s bigoted intransigence and nodded my head sympathetically as I hugged her tight. Sian sensed my empathy and pulled a tearful smile.

“It’s their loss in the end. They’ve never met my son Martin and he’s their only grandson. Both my sisters had daughters then hysterectomies after cancer. I suppose it’s a genetic thing and they were very promiscuous in their early teens. They say that can sometimes precipitate the onset of early cervical cancer. My uncertainty of my sexuality proscribed me from being promiscuous. I believe that's why I didn't develope cancer of the cervix in my twenties. My parents keep asking me to let Martin see them but I won’t risk it. They’d probably try and win custody of him or something and heaven knows what lies they’d tell him. They’d never win, but I just can’t face another round of courts and stuff.”

“You should consider Martin’s feelings in this,” suggested Sandie, “he’s missing out if he hasn’t got an extended family of grandparents, aunts and cousins.”

“Yeah, that would be an extended family of bigots though, wouldn't it? And think of the risks. I just can’t chance it. They never came to see me throughout my pregnancy and didn't even turn up when he was born. They were pretty brutal when they last communicated anything about Martin. In the solicitor's letter they told me bluntly they didn’t want to see anything of me, just Martin. How bloody cruel is that? That’s a pretty traumatic thing for me to swallow and God knows what they’d tell him in my absence. They’re a right pious, bigoted pair. My childhood was a mess. If I let them see him alone I suspect they'd try and keep him somehow. I just couldn’t face the courts again even though I know I’d probably win. Anyway, they’re just a pair of bigots.”

“I’d advocate for you. Martin seems a fine little kid and well balanced,” Sandie added.

“And who are you to say?” Sighed Sian wearily as she evidenced the mental scars of many battles she had fought as a single lesbian mother fighting to keep her only son without even the support of her own family.

Sandie smiled sympathetically. Sian had no idea what Sandie was, she thought Sandie was simply another social worker assisting Mrs Bodkin.

“I’m the fully qualified psychiatrist who supervises Jennifer and Beatrice’s development.”

This was a total surprise to Sian but it didn’t faze her. Years of weary court battles had left her, like me, wary of all the care agencies. In the countless courtroom battles, psychiatrists had just been more grist to the mill.

“Then where were you when I needed you?”

Sandie got a bit defensive.

“Seven years ago Sian, I had only just finished my second year at medical school.”

“Yeah. Well that’s as may be. It’s all water over the dam now. Margaret and I are legally married and both our children are reasonably safe.

“Well I’m here if you ever need me.” Declared Sandie. “I’ll be around for Beverly and the girls so’ you’ll always be able to reach me.”

“Yeah thanks. I’ll keep that in mind. Now back to these horses.”

“Shhh.” I motioned as I heard footfalls on the landing. The children were returning and I wasn’t even out of bed.
The four children peered shyly around the door for they were still in their nightclothes. “I thought we asked you to get dressed,” observed Sian.

Chenille spoke to Margaret.

“Mummy, what are we to wear? Is it outside or inside?”

“Outside,” declared Margaret as the decision to go looking at ponies had obviously been agreed.

“Are you going ahead with it then Beverly?” Asked Sian.

“Only if you’ll agree to help us look after them.”

She nodded eagerly. It was obvious that Sian had missed her horses since expulsion from her family circle.

“Right then, to horse, to horse.” I cried. “Everybody out. I want to get dressed.”

Everybody left to get dressed except Beatrice.

“Where are we going?” She demanded nervously.

“It’s a nice surprise and a secret darling. Go on. You’ll be late.”

I gave her a reassuring hug and she left reluctantly whilst I showered.

Over breakfast all the children tried to guess the surprise and the meal passed quickly. By ten we were on the road in my long wheelbase Land-rover countryman.

I drove and Sian directed us as we rolled through Dorset and on into Hampshire. We arrived in the New Forest and Sian finally brought us to a pretty farm deep in the glades of the forest. She had pre-warned them on her mobile and a very ‘horsy’ woman met us as we parked in the yard. She and Sian were obviously old friends and this broke any ice. Sian greeted the woman effusively as we tumbled out of the Land rover and the woman responded with similar enthusiasm..

“Hello Dot, it's just so fabulous to see you, It's been too long a time, and no see.”

“Why Sian! This is fantastic. Whatever happened to you after that business with your parents?”

It was obvious that Dot knew all about Sian’s past but she had obviously remained a good friend. We made our acquaintances and Dot ushered us inside. A very pretty stable girl showed the children around the horses, while we discussed business over coffee.

“I’d love you to all stay for Sunday lunch, and it’s just so wonderful to see Sian again after all this time. Are you still riding?”

“No I had to give it up, you know why.”

A cloud crossed the ‘horsy’ woman’s face and she gave Sian a long hug.

“I’m so sorry. I had high hopes for you. That was just so cruel of your parents. You would have gone far.”

“Well it wasn’t to be. And things are on the mend now. I’ll be looking after Jenny and Bea’s ponies and there’s scope for expansion. Beverly owns this farm in Dorset but she rents out the land at the moment.”

“Oh! Dorset. Such a lovely county I’d love to see it, the farm that is.”

“Pre-inspection is it Dot?” Smiled Sian knowingly.

“I can’t be too careful these days," sighed Dot, "everybody’s after the horsy set. One sick or emaciated horse in the papers and everyone gets it in the neck.”

“Well you’re welcome to come and see." I interjected. "There’s plenty of barn and stable space.” I offered. "I'm sorry, I don't know anything about horses but I'm happy to let Sian do her stuff."

“Why thank you. That's just so kind. A whole farm eh; did you inherit it?"

"Uuuhhm, no,- I uuhhm, - bought it."

"Oh." She looked at me with a distictly different perspective as she glanced knowingly at Sian beofre turning to me again. "Well I suppose you’d better come and see the horses.”

Sian naturally led the way and she soon demonstrated that she had lost little of her skill. Jenny and Bea were shown suitable horses and Sian put the animals through their paces on a lunge rein. Eventually the girls chose two ponies and arrangements were completed.

Dot would visit my cottage midweek and if everything was up to scratch, the ponies would arrive a fortnight the following Saturday. We had a lot of work to complete before then, for we did not even own a horse trailer.

That afternoon, Sandie and the four children were taken on a trek through the New Forest as we discussed arrangements and finer details. Sian did most of the organising and logistics, I simply nodded when money was involved.

As we talked, Margaret and Sian expressed their wish to perhaps buy another two ponies for Martin and Chenille. We decided to wait until the children returned from the trek to see how they felt about horses.

We needn’t have worried. Martin and Chenille proved every bit as excited as Jenny and Bea. They even made it easy for Sian by expressing their preferences for the horses they had seen. They were of course the two they had ridden on the trek. Sian and Dot discreetly checked out those particular ponies and agreed a sale. We did not discuss this business on the way home for we wanted the whole thing to be an extra surprise. Chenille and Martin would not know about their ponies until everything was arranged and they arrived a fortnight after the following Saturday, subject to my barns passing inspection.

That Sunday night, we returned to my cottage exhausted by the activities of the day. Mrs Bodkin decided to stay overnight and return to Devon on the Monday morning. Sandie decided she would leave later in the week then return when the ponies were delivered. I smiled knowingly. There was no doubt Sandie was getting emotionally involved with the girls and their lifestyle.

On the Monday I hired a team of specialist builders whom Dot had recommended to repair and prepare the barns and refurbish the old loose boxes in the stable block. I took the opportunity to have a conservatory built adjoining the drawing room and patio and I also arranged with my neighbour Mister Turnbull to refurbish a couple of our fences and secure the paddocks from the rest of the fields that he rented from me. I was pleasantly surprised when he offered to let the ponies occasionally share the fields with his sheep.

“If they get on together, t’is no problem Miss,” he said in his soft Dorset accent. I asked Sian about it later and she smiled.

“He’s just being neighbourly and canny.” She smiled.

“Go on. Enlighten me.” I asked.

“Oh several things," continued Sian, "for instance, sheep and horses can share the same type of pasture without serious conflict. Horses get fed hay and oats every day so I'll be down his fields every day to feed them. Stray dogs aren’t likely to go into a field where horses are ranging, especially five horses together. The horses will raise a huge fuss. Sheep rustlers usually aren’t equipped to raid a field with different types of stock.

Also, if you look at the map of your farm, you can see that if we secure the back lane to those extra fields with a secure gate, only Mr Turnbull and us will be able to reach the fields via our farms. There will be less chance of thieves stealing our horses or his sheep direct from the main road.

The clever old bugger is just being canny because if we keep an eye on our horses, that means a visit at least twice a day to the paddocks and fields. Horses have to be fed and watered. Well mine do because I look after my animals.

The horses will also need an outdoor shelter in the field if they overnight in the summer. That means we’ll also be indirectly keeping an eye on his sheep when we visit the fields. The shelter will protect his sheep during winter and lambing time. It’s wheels within wheels you see. Farmers aren’t stupid.”

“I smiled. Sian knew her stuff.”

For that week, the yard rang to the sound of builders clattering away and every day after school, Jenny and Bea would excitedly visit the work site and argue about whose pony was to go where. They never thought to ask why all six loose boxes were being refurbished.

Dot came up as arranged and inspected the stables with Sian. A few suggestions were made to the builder who had all the work finished in the time alloted. It’s surprising what a few offers of bonus payments can do to builders to speed them up. Sian now took charge of the stable block and organised the preparations for the horses. I left it to her and simply stood back and watched.

Whilst the children were at school on the Friday, four ponies were delivered complete with new tack and saddles. I was also surprised to find a full hunter arrive for I had no idea that Sian had obtained a horse for herself.

“God she’s huge. What d’you want her for?” I asked.

“The children will need escorting until they are qualified, especially when they are on the roads. How do you think I’m going to accompany them?”

“Of course, stupid old me. I bow to your better knowledge.” Margaret’s accountancy business must be doing OK.”

“We get by,” declared Sian coyly.

I need hardly dwell upon the children’s excitement when they arrived from school.

Margaret and Sandie had collected them at the school gate because Jenny and Bea knew the ponies were arriving that Friday and all four children were itching to see them. They had already agreed turns and who was to share with whom. Sandie told me it was hard for her and Margaret to keep a straight face as they struggled not to tell the children about the other ponies as they drove to the cottage.

Sian and I had arranged the ponies two each to a loose box and her hunter was alone in the larger box. Fortunately, the ponies were all from Dot’s trekking centre and they knew each other well. There would be no fighting to re-establish any pecking order. Sian’s large hunter mare would have no problem from the ponies and would easily hold her own.

When the children arrived the car had not even stopped before the doors flung open and all four dashed to the stable block. There was a pregnant silence then all four started gabbling at once as they discovered four ponies.

“Mummy Beverly! Mummy Beverly! There are four!” Screamed Jenny as she re-emerged from the stables.

“Good counting darling. Your maths is excellent, go to the top of the class!” (I was delighted that she had started calling me 'mummy'!)

“But -, but-! Mummy! Why are there four?”

“How many children are there?”

“Four!” Her expression froze for a moment then a huge smile spread across her face as she dashed squealing back into the stables.

“Yes! Yes! They are ours! All of them! Honest!! One each!”

“Shhhh!” I admonished them as I followed Jenny into the building. “Stop all that shouting. You’ll frighten them!”

The children fell quiet and the ponies soon settled down again. Each child recognised the animal they had preferred the week before and they stared mesmerised at the animals though the door bars of the looseboxes..

“Aren’t you going to feed them?” Asked Sian.

“Can we?” Squealed Chenille.

“Shhh! Quiet again. You’ll frighten them and you wont be able to go into the loose boxes if they are frightened. Look. Hold these carrots flat on the palm of your hands like this and each of you give your own horse a little treat.”

Eager fingers each took a carrot and copied Sian as they pushed their hands through the feeding boxes. The carrots were immediately taken and confidence was gained on all sides.

Sian then slowly introduced each child to their own pony and showed them the first rudiments of good manners around horses. They proved eager pupils and within the hour, each child was mounted and heading for the paddock. Their eyes widened when Sian joined them on her huge hunter.

“Crickey! Gasped Martin as he looked up from his pony. He’s massive!”

“Not he Martin, she, she’s massive. She’s a mare.” Said Sian.

Margaret, Sandie and I looked on as the children were put through their first lesson.

“A job well done,” observed Sandie, “I think my work is finished here. I’m going to miss it.”

“You can always come and visit when you like,” I offered, “as a friend I mean, not professionally.”

“Well thank you. I’ll look forward to that. Oh; by the way, I've left a large envelope on your bed, it's a copy of the report I've prepared for Mrs Bodkin's Devonshire care team. You've done very well and I've told them that in the report. Your adoption is water tight now. Wild horses couldn't drag the girls past my report.""

"Thanks Sandie." I swallowed tearfully and turned away to hide my tears of relief and gratitude.

“Come on then," finished encouragingly as she patted me on my shoulder, "lets go and have tea, while they get on with their lesson. There isn’t much light left.

We went inside to make tea and a half hour later the children returned smelling of horses but blissfully happy.

“Are they all properly put to bed?” Sandie asked the children.

“Yes," replied Jenny. "Sian showed us what to do. We had to rub them down and then put out the feed. She’s just checking everything.”

Sian then appeared with her face wreathed in smiles. It was obvious she had rediscovered her true vocation. We settled down to eat around the kitchen table and I relaxed as I savoured the excited babble of four delighted children and one supremely happy adult.. Finally the children finished their homework and went up to bath. Sian and I were roped into shampoo duties and much fun ensued as four kids frolicked in the shower.
Then they returned downstairs where Margaret and Sandie had built up the fire. Martin savoured the extra time staying up late as the girls had to wait until their longer hair was dry.

He made a joke about 'girls always taking too long to dry their hair' and I grinned to myself as I heard the girls plotting their revenge.

‘Your for it tonight my boy.’ I thought.

Then the children retired to bed and Sandie read them a story while Margaret, Sian and I chatted downstairs. Later Sandie came down and we played cards.

“They’re full of it. They won’t get much sleep tonight.”

“Let them be.” Replied Margaret.

We thought no more about it and resumed playing cards. Occasionally, we heard a few squeals and giggles but there were no tears or arguments so we left them to it. I went to bed that night feeling at peace with the world.

My peace was short lived. On the Saturday morning, I was sitting at my window seat watching the weak autumn sunrise over the soft Dorset hills.

I was dressed in my usual sleeping attire. I'd chosen my deep pink all-in-one sleep suite, nightdress and peignoir. The usual morning rumble started erupting along the landing and I prepared myself for the inevitable morning invasion. The bedroom door burst open, and not three but four girls hurtled through the door.

I was stunned! For a moment I stared stupidly before recovering my wits. At all costs I dare not show any shock or disapproval concerning Martin’s new appearance. After recovering my composure, I stood up and made my way back to the bed as I smiled at the four children.

“Well, well. Who’s this pretty young lady then?” I asked, thinking I was playing along with the girl’s punishment of Martin because of his comment about drying their hair.

They followed me into the bed and snuggled under the duvet as Chenille asked.

“Do you like her?

“Well yes, of course’ I like all pretty little girls, but who’s this new young lady and what’s her name?” I persisted, thinking I was playing along with Martin’s punishment.

The three girls exchanged puzzled looks and it was obvious that they had not decided a girl’s name for Martin. They started arguing about a name whilst I studied Martin’s appearance. Under the pretty white silky nightie I spotted the outline of one of Jennifer’s ‘junior miss’ pink teddies. His makeup was also over done.

“Well darling. Who put you up to this then?” I asked him.

“They did.”

“Oh. And why?”

“Because I was laughing at them last night about drying their hair.”

“I see. And are you angry?”

Martin hesitated as he ran his fingers over his ankle length silky nightie. Then he looked up at me shyly and coinfessed nervously.

“Uhhmm; no. It actually feels quite nice.”

“Oh I’m sure it feels nice darling. Silky nighties always feel nice. But I asked you if you are angry.”

The girls fell silent as we all waited for his answer. After hesitating uncertainly he replied.

“No. Not really.”

“So,” I persisted, “did you find it nice sleeping in a nightgown?”

Martin stared at his sister Chenille before answering and I suspected this was not a new phenomenon. I caught Chenille’s eye and she nodded imperceptibly as Martin replied in a very subdued voice as a tiny tear glistened in his eye. I realised suddenly that the poor kid was frightened.

“Yes. You won’t tell will you? Jennifer and Beatrice said you were good at secrets”

My heart went out to him as my suspicions strengthened and all the ghastly torments of my own life surged up from my long forgotten memories. A tear glistened in my eye as I hugged him to me.

“Oh my gosh child. I’d never, never ever tell anybody. Doesn’t your mummy know?”

“No.” Whispered Martin as once again, Chenille confirmed the answer.

As I hugged him to me Chenille bit her lip nervously.

“Should we tell mummy?”

I decided that I’d better test the waters first so I said ‘no’ just to reassure Martin at this stage.

“No. We shouldn’t tell mummy yet. I’ll help sort this one out first. You girls go back to your bedroom and I’ll talk to Martin alone for a moment.”

The girls left and I asked Martin a few questions to reassure myself that he possibly was a transvestite. His answers more or less convinced me but he also expressed his biggest dread. Tearfully he declared he was terrified of being taken away from his mummy by the social workers if anybody found out. The previous custody battles had obviously affected him very badly.

“OK then darling. Right now if you don’t want to be discovered then you’d better go straight back to your bedroom and change back before Sian and Margaret get up.”

Martin crept back to the bedroom and I slipped down the landing to the far bedroom where Sandie still slept. I knocked quietly on her door.

“Yes. Who is it?”

“It’s Beverly,” I whispered softly, “can we speak?”

“Yes of course. Come in.”

I slipped in and got straight down to business.

“I’ve got some news for you.”

“Go on.” Replied Sandie.

“It’s Martin. I think he’s a transvestite.”

“Oh come on. Lighten up.”

“No. I’m serious. He’s just come to my room with the others and he was dressed as a girl.”

“Are you serious?”

“Of course I’m serious. He was wearing one of Beatrice’s frilliest nylon nighties and under it he was wearing one of Jennifer’s old teddies.

“Teddy?” Gasped Sandie incredulously. “Does Jennifer wear teddies?”

“Yes, and Beatrice. They’re both very fashion conscious. They saw one of mine hanging up to dry in the utility room and decided that they both wanted the same.”

“So where did you get them?”

“I had them made up. An old polish lady friend of mine is a wiz with a sowing machine. They’re nothing more than leotards without sleeves and with bootlace shoulder straps.”

“Wouldn’t they be a bit big for Martin?”

“No. They are Jenny’s old ones. They’re made out of a 'micro-fibre' type fabric and they easily stretch to fit Martin.”

“And he was definitely wearing one.”

“Of course he was. I’d recognise it anywhere. It was one of Jennifer’s. As Mummy Beverly, I’ve washed them often enough.!”

“So. He’s a transvestite. OK, I’ll take your expert opinion. Now what?”

“Well I’m worried. I’m afraid that people might think I had something to do with it.”

“And.” Pressed Sandie.

“Well of course I haven’t! This is the first time he’s ever stayed at this cottage. I’ve had absolutely nothing to do with him growing up.”

“So it’s just a coincidence then.”

“I’m not sure.”

“What d’you mean? What are you trying to say?”

“Well. I know his father.”

“Go on.” Pressed Sandie.

“Well I’m not sure I should tell you who his father is, but his father is also a transvestite.”

“So you think it’s hereditary?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never heard of it being hereditary, at least not like that, a direct link from parent to child. However I’m convinced there’s a tranny gene; a propensity to become a tranny if the opportunity presents itself.”

“And how would the opportunity present itself?”

“Believe me! The opportunity always presents itself. All it needs is access to female clothing and if the transvestite tendency is there then bingo.”

“And how would this access to female clothing be possible?”

“Oh come on! Every transvestite boy has a mother! He sees a bit of lingerie or something and that’s it. If he’s got sisters then the opportunity doubles!”

“Oh. Yes. Stupid of me. Of course. So you think he’s a transvestite. How do you come by that conclusion?”

“Well, when he came into my room, I thought the girls had been teasing him by making him wear a nightie. But he wasn’t crying or upset. The girls said they were punishing him for laughing at them about the hair drying thing last night.”

“Oh yes,” said Sandie, “I remember when they were sitting in front of the fire lined up like four wise monkeys on the big settee..”

“That’s right. Anyway, when I asked him if he was upset or angry he confessed that he wasn’t. After some more subtle questions, I determined that he liked the nightie and the teddy. His sister Chenille, confirmed that he did it at home in her nightclothes. Neither Margaret or Sian appear to know.”

“So why was he prepared to come into your room?”

“I suspect that Jenny and Bea encouraged him. They knew I’d be sympathetic.”

“And where you?”

“Of course. I’ve been down that road.”

“Mmmm. Well this is a poser isn’t it? What d’you suggest we do?”

“Well I think Margaret and Sian would be sympathetic. They accept me for what I am and we are good friends.”

“But you don’t want to be the one to tell them?”

“Oh I’ve no problem with that. In fact, I’d be the ideal person to break the news. What I don’t want is you or the S.S. thinking I somehow instigated it or caused it. I promise you, this is the first time that Martin has ever stayed here or had anything other than a casual acquaintance with me.”

“Yes, well I understand your fears and I believe you. It’s just such a freakish coincidence.”

“I don’t think so. Remember what I told you. His biological father is also a tranny l. He has the same father as Chenille as well. They are half brother and sister.”

“What!”

“Yes. They have the same father. I’m not saying who he is, but he is a transvestite. In fact he introduced me to Margaret through her accountancy business. Margaret does the accounts for our ship. That’s why I’m pretty sure that Margaret and Sian won’t object. Margaret likes Martin’s father a lot. He did not make a pass when she was starting out in business. You can see how pretty Margaret is. It must have been a nightmare with people coming on to her expecting to get a piece of tail in exchange for their account.

He also introduced her to a lot of other gay people and a large piece of her business is now in the gay community. You know hairdressers, gay bars, clubs and all the usual stuff.”

“I see. Well are you going to tell them?”

“Of course. I’ll have to. Otherwise they might think I had some sort of puerile interest in Martin if I kept it quiet.”

“Well that’s fair. Yes I think it best.”

I made to leave and Sandie gasped.

“What! Right now?”

“Soonest done, soonest mended.”

“D’you want me to come?”

“No. They might feel hurt if they thought I had mentioned it to somebody else first. I spoke to you because I was nervous for myself.”

Sandie nodded sympathetically and I left her to get dressed as I slipped across the hall to Margaret and Sian’s room. I knocked on the door and waited. After a minute Sian answered.

“Who is it?”

“Beverly. It’s important.” I whispered hoarsely.

“There was another pause then the latch inside the door slid back and Sian’s face appeared. I motioned urgently to emphasise the need for silence. She let me in and I locked the door behind me.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, but I have to be quiet.”

“Go on,” encouraged Margaret who was till lying under the duvet with a somewhat flushed complexion.

“D’ you always lock the door?” I asked.

“Not at home.”

“Well that’s not important. It’s the children.” I hesitated.

“Go on.” Said Sian.

“Well. Do they cuddle up to you in bed sometimes?”

“Yes. Of course they do, almost every morning there’s nothing wrong with that!”

“No. Of course there isn’t. Mine do as well. It’s just that the four of them, well -, they came to my bedroom this morning.”

“Go on.”

“Well it was Martin.”

“What about him?” Asked Margaret nervously.

“Well. He -, he was wearing one of Beatrice’s nighties.”

Both lesbian mothers frowned uncertainly.

“What! Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m bloody sure! I saw it with my own eyes, they all jumped onto my bed then they burrowed under my duvet; just like they did yesterday morning. He also had one of Jennifer’s teddies on underneath the nightie.”

Margaret and Sian fell silent so I continued cautiously.

“I thought it was some sort of childish punishment by the girls for teasing them about the hair drying thing last night. I -, and I apologise for this, I asked him if he was upset.

He hesitated because he was afraid to say, but Chenille encouraged him and he told me he liked it.”

Margaret and Sian stared at me as uncertainty and fear showed in their eyes. After a painfully long silence, Margaret spoke.

“What are we to do?”

“Well,” I replied reassuringly, “if it is transvestism, then don’t show any anger. That will only make it worse. He’ll be frightened enough as it is. He begged me not to tell you.”

“Why would he do that? We’re not monsters!” Cried Sian.

“He’s frightened. He’s afraid that ‘they’ will take him away.”

Margaret and Sian paled as I said this and it became apparent that this was exactly their fear.

“Would they?” Swallowed Margaret anxiously.

“I don’t think so. Sandie would be the best to ask. She’s a leading authority on it these days.”

“What, you mean with you and the girls and everything?” Smiled Sian.

“Well that and all,” I agreed.

“When shall we speak to her?”

“Do it now. She’s just across the hall and she’ll be here until noon then she’s going back to London. Get some reassurance from her and then we can gently broach the subject with Martin.”

“That seems to be the best approach,” agreed Margaret as Sian nodded.

Margaret and Sian immediately got dressed and discovered that Sandie was already downstairs making coffee. When I arrived they were talking in subdued voices so the children upstairs wouldn’t hear. I poured my coffee and joined the huddle as Sandi explained the recent medical thinking. It was the usual pat stuff purveyed by most psychiatrists and there was little I could disagree with. The truth was, psychiatrists were really like the eunuch in the harem, they knew what transvestism was, they could describe it, they could demonstrate it but the couldn’t actually explain it.

But then, even after fifty years, I couldn’t explain it either. Looking from the inside out, -as I was want to do-, I felt there were possibly as many reasons for transvestism as there were transvestites. There certainly didn’t seem to be a part of the brain that was ‘different’ like the most recent thinking about homosexuality. Or at least nothing had been discovered yet. So for the moment there was no clinical pathology for Transvestism. No obvious genetic pointers.

I felt like putting the cat amongst the pigeons by asking Sandie to demonstrate a pathology, but I held my counsel. There would be nothing gained by setting Sandie on her back foot right now. For now, what she said wasn’t doing any harm and Margaret and Sian were being reassured. She said that transvestism wasn’t a disease, and it wasn’t illegal, and a dozen other things to reassure the mothers.

“But will it affect our custodial rights?” Begged Sian.

“Eh. No, it shouldn’t.”

“Shouldn’t! Why just shouldn’t? Can’t you be more definite than that?” Pleaded Sian.

“Nothing’s certain in the children’s courts,” conceded Sandie finally.

“Ain’t that the truth!” I amen’d.

“That’s not fair,” objected Sandie, “you’ve been treated fairly.”

I shrugged and nodded agreement. In all truth, Sandie, Mrs Bodkin and Judge Porter had all bent over backwards to allow me custody of my two, but in truth I felt it had more to do with the financial aspect than the girl’s supposed needs. It was only after Mrs Bodkin and Sandie had seen the girl’s happiness living at the cottage that they conceded the emotional arguments.

“So what’s your opinion Beverly?” Asked Sandie, now that I had eventually stuck my oar in. “Speaking as one with a bit more insight as it where?”

Sandie’s little barb didn’t hurt. She knew I was virtually bomb proof now; at least as far as my own transvestism went. As to my relationship with the girls, that would always be very vulnerable. I knew that Sandie knew all this and then I realised why she’d asked me the question. It was to reassure Margaret and Sian. This I felt qualified to do, so I answered.

“I’d let him alone. As I said earlier, let him know that you know about it but you won’t punish him. Reassure him that nobody’s going to ‘take him away’, support him if he needs it, and protect him if he needs protecting. Just like you would with any other kid. Make his home a safe haven, and I mean a safe haven. Let there be no risk of abuse such as homosexual rape. Trannies are not usually gay though some are, as you already know. Like you said earlier Sandie, it’s not illegal. I would also add that a person’s sexuality is their own private affair and that goes in spades for children. The only difference is that children need protecting and that protection is best served by loving understanding parents.”

Sandie smiled.

“I could hardly have put it better myself.”

“So who’s going to tell him that we know?” Asked Sian nervously.

“I will.” I replied, “He already knows that I know about it so it will take all the sting out of it if I tell him that you know and you’re not upset.”

“Thanks Bev,” sighed Margaret with relief, “you’ve come up trumps again.

With an approving nod from Sandie I returned upstairs and knocked softly on the children’s bedroom door. They were all dressed ready to go riding but I noticed that Martin was wearing a girl’s blouse and a pair of Beatrice’s tight fitting stretch jodhpurs with a side zip fastening. I invited all four to sit on the bed and explained.

“I’ve explained to Margaret, Sian and Sandie about your feelings Martin and they are not angry. Sandie doesn’t mind. She’s met lots of little boys like you so she knows all about it. It can’t be cured, so that’s that and she says that ‘they’ won’t be able to ‘take you away’ because of it. You’re safe with your mummies Sian and Margaret. In fact, Margaret and Sian were more upset than anything else and they were upset because you thought they would be angry. They are not angry.

They were surprised and upset but they understand now. I’ve explained it to them. Now you can all go down and have breakfast without any more ado.”

“See!” Squealed Jenny victoriously. “I told you Mummy Beverly would fix it!”

A tear of relief or gratitude or just plain happiness, I knew not which, escaped down Martin’s cheek and he buried his face in my lap. I gently stroked his hair as the girls left for breakfast then I picked him up and carried him down the stairs.

Sian met me at the bottom of the stairs and took Martin from my arms. There was also a tear in her eye but she hugged him and squeezed him like some long lost child as she gently placed him at the table. I turned to see Margaret and Sandie smiling as well and I envied Martin. How lucky he was to have so many understanding, caring women in his life. I took my coffee and slipped quietly into the conservatory as a lump formed in my throat. In the hubbub of breakfast, nobody seemed to notice my absence but I did not mind. I was glad of the conservatory. It provided a light airy warm space during the colder months. It was only after the children, Margaret and Sian had gone out to the horses that Sandie finally found me alone. I was staring out over the view and she settled into the seat beside me.

“Penny for your thoughts.” She said softly.

“I’m worried for him.” I replied.

“Why?”

“He’s got a long road to walk.”

“He’s got excellent support though.” Assured Sandie.

“D’you think he is safe though? I mean, are they likely to try and remove him from Sandie and Margaret.”

“No.” Said Sandie firmly. “He’s in the best place. Surrounded by caring understanding adults.”

“He’s gone riding dressed like that. I hope Sian doesn’t get ahead of herself and sticks to less public roads.”

“His jacket covers up the blouse. Look, there they go.”

I turned to see the five of them enter the larger paddock as Sian put each one through their paces. From a distance it was impossible to see what Martin was wearing. Sandie and I watched in silence until they opened the gate and stepped out into the lane. The last thing I saw was five black hats bobbing behind the hedge as each one disappeared until Only Sian on her bigger horse was visible.

“Well. I suppose I’d better pack. Duty calls and I’ve got to go back to London. I’ll miss it down here. You’ve got a wonderful cottage.”

She bent down to give me a peck on the cheek then slipped up to her bedroom to pack. I joined Margaret with mundane household chores.