Get A Life!

By Susan Brown

Final Chapter
Previously …

My bike turned from something jet-propelled to snail paced in the space of ten seconds flat and I now knew that Victoria Pendleton was in no danger from me. I got off and walked to the top of the hill and then cycled down it; something repeated several times until I had had enough and then turned for home, my legs feeling like wibbly-wobbly jelly.

I was cycling gently down one hill singing ‘raindrops keep falling on my head,’ a fact as it had started drizzling, when I heard it; the sound of an engine coming my way. I went around a bend and I saw a tractor coming toward me. The tractor had a trailer. On the trailer was a sheep. Driving the tractor was Finlay Cameron who, rather than paying attention to the road, was swigging something from a bottle.

I knew then that I was not in a good place, as the tractor came hurtling towards me…

And, och aye the noo; the story continues…

My bike went one way and I went the other. The bike landed in the road and I landed in a thorny hedge.

There was screech of brakes and crunching sound as the tractor went over my bike. The engine was switched off and there was a sudden silence, except for the plaintive bleating of the sheep.

Looking up, I could see Cameron starring down at me. He had a bottle in his hand and it wasn’t orange juice. I could smell the whisky fumes from my supine position. He had gone grey in the face and no wonder as he had nearly killed me and had in fact murdered my bike.

To say I was unhappy would put it mildly, to say I was angry would be closer, to say that I was ready to throttle him with my bare hands would be close to the truth, to say…

‘Are ye alright?’

‘What?’

‘I didna see ye, lassie.’

The sheep made tentative bleating sounds, no doubt wanting to give her point of view; I ignored her.

‘You could have killed me!’

‘Och no, I have the quick reactions.’

‘You hit my bike.’

‘Aye, but I didna hit you.’

The logic escaped me and I struggled to get to my feet.

‘Och good, ye are alright then. I’ll be on me way. Oh I won't charge ye for scratching me tractor and frightening me sheep. Good day te ye.’

He then burped, smiled and then carried on driving over my mangled bike with his tractor and trailer. As she passed, Dolly or whatever the damned sheep was called looked at me with what I considered a superior and haughty expression - or was that a smirk?

‘I’m having lamb chops for tea.’ I shouted.

Did I see fear in her eyes or was it just a trick of the light?

I picked myself up, dusted myself off and checked around for damage. Apart from a few scratches, lumps and bumps, I was in surprisingly good nick, although when I walked a few steps, I felt a wee twinge in my ankle. My bike however would never have my bum sat on it again. She was a dead bike, deceased; gone to that bike heaven in the sky. In short, she was a write-off.

I was upset. She had been a good bike on my brief acquaintance with it. Technically it was my bike as it belonged to the estate and as such, I wanted full restitution from the mad drunk that had gone over it with a bloody great tractor tyre, reducing it to less than its component parts.

Something would have to be done about Finlay Cameron…

I had my trusty mobile phone and luckily it wasn’t damaged. I was just about to ring for assistance when I noticed that there were no bars and consequently, no service. Reception in the area was iffy at the best of times and I wondered how much it would cost to improve things like area masts and such like. I filed that in my wee little brain and then tried to work out what I should do. I managed to pull the bits and pieces of the bike over to the verge, as it was beyond earthly help.

Sighing, I started to trudge back to what I now considered to be my home, The Manor. I had gone about half a mile and my foot was beginning to hurt a lot and was inflating like a balloon. Of course the inevitable happened; it started weeing down with rain. So in addition to my slightly battered body and dodgy foot, I now had to contend with the drippy wet stuff; I was, as you might imagine, far from happy. The only thing that kept me going was devising various different ways that I could do physical and mental damage to Cameron.

So deep was I into my introspective ruminations, that I didn’t hear the car coming up behind me until its horn went off, making me almost wet myself. Well I was wet already, but you know what I mean…

Turning around, I saw Alistair looking at me through the windscreen of his Porch. He had a smirk on his face for some reason, but I ignored that as, without further ado, I opened the passenger door and squelched in

‘Hi Chloe, been out for a little walk?’

‘Ha ha, very funny. Can you take me home?’

‘Which home would that be, Auntie’s or the ancestral pile?’

‘I’ve moved into The Manor as I’m sure you already know.’

‘I did hear something about that. Did you want to strip down to your undies and wrap up in the blanket behind your seat?’

‘And have everyone around finding out and saying nasty things about my lack of chastity and other character assassination type things.’

‘There’s no-one here but us two.’

‘I wouldn’t even trust the rabbits on this island. You know about the jungle drums. A gnat breaks wind at one end the island at the other end, it’s the news of the day.’

‘Okay, okay, get pneumonia then, don’t come running to me when you kick the bucket.’

‘How can I run to you if I have kicked, as you say, the bucket?’

‘I was speaking metaphorically.’

‘I don’t even know if you understand that word.’

‘Chloe?’

‘What?’

‘Are we having our first row?’

I looked at him and did the only thing I could do, I burst into tears.

Somehow, I found myself in his arms, not an easy thing to do in a Porsche, which isn't noted for its space.

'Oh honey, what's wrong?' he asked with real concern in his voice.

I told him the whole sorry tale about being run over by Cameron and being left there by the side of the road as he went off without a care in the world.

'I'll kill him,' said Alistair through gritted teeth.

I just sobbed; unusual for me as I was normally the strong silent, steely type...it must have been the shock. Mind you it was nice to be held by a nice strong man...

After I put him down, Alistair drove me home and it took all of my resolve to hold things together before I got there.

I knew being a transsexual wasn't an easy thing to be. I had experienced in London the hatred of people who couldn't or didn't understand that some people are different. It did not make us bad people. I wondered whether I could handle this. I had left London to live the dream, to get away from all the nastiness.

Finlay Cameron knew that I wasn't a normal girl, as did that cow of a landlady, Ma McSavage...sorry, McTavish. How many others felt the same about me? This was a small island where everyone seemed to know everything about each other. Was I going to experience more of this crap?

When we arrived home, Alistair helped me into the house and then when he was sure that I was being well taken care of by Claire he left, saying that he had some business to attend to. What that business was, I had no idea, but I was pleased when he said that he would come back to see me later.

None of my injuries were serious but Dr Millie said that I would have to keep off my ankle for a few days. Things moved quickly regarding Finlay Cameron, once his stupidity was exposed. It wasn't because of the accident; accidents do happen, it was because of his attitude and the fact that he left me by the side of the road and treated me so badly.

He was arrested by Doughall, our 6 foot seven inch in his socks policeman, and then sent over to the mainland. He rashly resisted arrest as he was drunk in charge of a tractor and attempted to run over Douglas foot. A silly thing to do, as Doughall promptly dragged him off the tractor and put the cuffs on him. On the mainland, he was charged with several offences, including resisting arrest, grievous bodily harm, reckless driving and leaving the scene of an accident. When asked about the injuries to his face, he was reticent about divulging the cause, but I had a shrewd suspicion that Alistair had something to do with that, but he, of course, denied it strenuously!

About a week later, I was back to my normal, happy and cheerful optimistic self. The residents of the island seemed to take to heart the fact that Finlay Cameron had been nasty to me and it went against the grain for someone to be that way towards anybody, let alone the one person that could bring prosperity and great improvements to their lives.

It would have been too much to hope that everyone would accept me; one person in particular, Ma McTavish, the horrible B&B owner, was one that came to mind, but the vast majority knew that I was a force for good not evil and they made me feel welcome.

I must admit, when the news had got out that I owned the island and was exceedingly and obscenely rich, I was worried that I would get people bending my ear about this that or the other pet project or just the barefaced request for money, but the islanders were a proud bunch of people and didn’t like the idea of charity, so it was all that we could do to get them to accept some help.

I went for a walk in the grounds one day; the doctor said that i should exercise it a bit, as it would help the healing process, so who was I to argue?

I passed a few of the gardeners and was a bit disconcerted when they doffed their caps at me. I just smiled and gave them a finger wave. Not very regal, but I wasn’t into this serf - mistress stuff.

I dreaded the thought of one or more of the servant type girls curtsying me. I would probably have a fit of the giggles! Claire kept telling me that I should act with more gravitas, but I wasn’t that sort of girl and people would have to take me for what i was, warts and all.

Anyway, back to my walk, I was passing a pasture and I glanced over and then did a double take. In the middle of the pasture was a sheep. The sheep looked up and then ambled over to me.

‘Baa.’

She looked at me expectantly and then came over and nudged my arm with a wet nose.

‘Baa,’ she repeated.

Her vocabulary wasn’t very large, but she seemed to put more meaning into the latest ‘baa.’

You could say that all sheep looked the same, but there was something in her eyes…

‘Dolly, I mean, Agnes?’

I swear that she nodded and then she licked my hand like an over-inflated pseudo-poodle.

‘What are you doing here?’

I jumped as someone spoke behind me.

‘Och Ma’am, it’s ma cousins sheep. Ye dinna mind her stayin’ here until ma stupid cousin gets oot o’ prison?

I recognised him as being the head groundsman, what was his name, oh yes.

‘Mr McFee, I didn't know that you were related to that...gentleman.’

‘Aye, ye canna choose ye relatives like ye can ye friends, but he’s family and I promised to look after wee Agnes there.’

Agnes looked at me expectantly and then licked my hand again. Was that affection or did she do a good line in crawling and sucking up?

I sighed.

‘Do as you wish Mr McFee, as long as your cousin stays away from me you can keep all his sheep here, if and until he gets back.’

‘Och, he only has the one sheep; more of a pet really; but thank ye anyway for ye kind offer.

He doffed his cap and moved off into the pasture, calling Agnes as he went. She gave me another quick lick on the hand and then trotted off after him. I did wonder if someone threw a ball, whether she would chase after it...

Shaking my head, I carried on my walk wondering if I was the only sane person on the island…

Gradually, things started moving quickly as our plans were put in place. The island slowly changed from somewhere sleepy to a place where things were happening. I don’t think that Muckle had ever seen the like. There weren’t enough skilled workmen on the island and we had to ship them in to help with the renovations of the shops, pubs, cafés and most importantly, the houses. For a while, the population nearly doubled and it gave us an idea what it would be like once we got serious about welcoming holidaymakers.

Temporary cabins were erected in the park outside Halestead so that the workers would have accommodation. The phone was constantly ringing and my new secretary, come gopher Megan tried her best to field the calls. Her vocabulary, although a bit fruity, seemed to get the message across when required and she wouldn’t take any, s**t from anyone, as she candidly put it.

Claire was in her element and did more work than me on the various projects, just coming to me for any final decisions that evidently only I could make.

That left me a bit of time to concentrate on the thing that I originally came on the island to do, attract tourists. Pinkie, my scooter was better now and I often pottered about the place, meeting and greeting people and generally trying to give encouragement where needed and advice that wasn’t always heeded. Ah well, you couldn’t please all the people all of the time.

As far as the current year was concerned, I saw little hope on increasing the tourist figures. There was much work to do on the infrastructure of the island like improving the look of the place and in particular, mending the roads. Next year would be different though and I already had ideas about attracting visitors, using YouTube videos, Facebook and other media type of things.

One morning, I went for a walk. My ankle had more or less mended and I was told to get off my backside and do some exercising by Claire, Doctor Millie and I regret to say, Alistair. He was already getting to be a nagging husband and we wasn’t even married yet!

I cadged a lift down to the sea front and walked along to the end of the promenade. Already, I could see the improvements as several of the shops and the café had been spruced up. Also, the prom itself had a new look as the old tarmac and damaged cobbles had been torn up and colourful flagstones had been put in their place. Altogether the improvements, even now, would make the town more welcoming to tourists. It was amazing what could be done with a lot of money and a little bit of willpower and quite a bit of manual labour.

Sitting down on a seat overlooking the beach and the sea beyond, I reflected that I was so pleased that things were looking up now, for me and for Muckle too. I wanted to ensure that my presence on the island and the lucky happenstance of my good fortune would be a positive step for Muckle, as I didn’t want to change the nature of the place, just improve what was already there and help as many people as possible. I was happy with the way things were going so far and I saw no reason why in a relatively short time, that we could make Muckle into an island where the young people would want to stay rather than move away to the mainland. To do this, we would have to cater to them, and that was something I would have to think about. I thought that Claire might have a word with Megan about that. She would know what the kids wanted to do and I wondered if some sort of youth club might fit the bill…

‘Hello.’

I jumped a bit as a young girl sat down beside me. I had no idea where she had come from.

Looking at her, I sort of recognised her.

‘Maisie?’

She nodded, looking shyly down at the hem of her lemon sundress. Her hair was a little longer and she had it tied back in a pony tail using a pink ribbon. She looked every inch the pretty young girl that she was. No more of the grungy, nondescript look that she had used when she was hiding away from who she really was. This look suited her much better and I could see that she now took pride in her appearance.

Maisie was once known as Jamie, but had told me that she was really a girl. A little while ago, I had gone with her to her blind father’s cottage and explained things to him, as she was too frightened to tell him.

Peter McGregor was a nice man and despite Maisie’s fears, he accepted her for what and who she really was, a pretty, bright girl.

It was obvious from the way she was dressed that she was now allowed to express her gender and that she had the approval of her father to be the girl that she had always been in her heart.

‘My Da says, can ye come te tea sometime?’

‘Of course, it’s nice of him to invite me.’

‘Good.’

‘How are you coping now that you are dressed as a girl?’

‘Och, most of the kids I know always thought that I were a tomboy, anyways. Only Archie Gambol was nasty until I punched him on the nose. Och, he bled like a stuck pig.’

I felt slightly nauseous at that description, but let it pass. Sometimes kids can be more accepting than adults and if she had only one kid who had issues with who she was, she had gotten off lightly.

‘What about the adults you know?’

‘I don’t know many adults, my Nan said to hell with em; if they could’na accept me as bein’ a girl, then they could take a run and jump off the cliff.’

‘I didn’t know that you had a grandmother.’

‘Aye, she’s Aileen McBride.’

‘Auntie Aileen?’

‘That’s what I said didn’t I?’

‘Erm, okay, right.’

I wondered just how many islanders were related to each other on the island. On reflection, I thought probably most of them.

‘How is your father?’

‘Da is good. He doesna mind me bein a gurl. Only thing is that he’s no good at helpin’ me ta get clothes. Marsha, me best friend, is better an’ I went over to the mainland las’ week with ‘er mum an’ we got some pretty things fer me.’

‘Can your father afford to buy you new clothes?’

‘Not really, ‘e has a nest egg, whatever that is, an’ ‘e used that. I said that I would pay ‘im back when I gets a job, but he only laughed and said donna bother meself.’

I would have to see if I could help them out. I didn’t want to see them penniless because of Maisie’s problems.

‘When would you like me to come to tea?’ I asked.

‘Sunday?’

‘Fine, I’ll be there.’

‘Cool.’

She stood up suddenly and gave me a kiss on the cheek.

‘Bye,’ she said, as she skipped off down the path and away around the corner.

Smiling, I stood up, went over to the wall, sat on it for a moment and then after taking my sandals off, I stood up again and went down the beach to the shoreline. The sand was warm through my toes as I walked up to the water’s edge. The waves were lapping gently up on the beach. The tide was coming in and the day was still quite warm. The sky was blue and not a cloud in sight, the sea reflected the blue of the sky and I felt the world and in particular, Muckle, was a nice place to be.

Turning around I looked at the promenade the houses behind that, up the hill to where you could just see The Manor in the distance and beyond that, the impressive mountain known as Beinn Uaibhreachd, for once, not covered in cloud or mist. One day I would go up there and see for myself the island stretching before me, but I had more things to do before i could have the luxury of sightseeing...

I had come a long way, physically and mentally to be where I was now. Life in London had become a drag. Being assaulted, in the end, turned out to be not as bad as I thought it was at the time. It, together with my losing my job, had spurred me on to find a better life for myself.

In Muckle, I had found the first true home that I had ever had. It was a strange quirk of fate that had led me to this wonderful place and another twist was the fact that I was the Laird’s grandchild and had inherited the very place that I had landed at, just a mile away.

I smiled at the recollection of that inauspicious arrival, all bedraggled, covered in water and with my nice business type clothes ruined. Sally and Angus had welcomed me with open arms, as had most of the people on the island. A few didn’t like me, but that was just one of those things.

My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of hooves on hard sand coming my way. I looked along the shore and I saw that there were several horses coming my way, sand and water were flying everywhere. It was a magnificent sight to see the horses galloping along, being ridden by children and a few adults that were obviously enjoying themselves.

They passed me and rode on, but one of the horses turned back and I instantly recognised Isabel, the headmistress riding her magnificent horse, Sugarplum.

‘Hi Chloe,’ she said, slightly breathless, ‘want a lift?’

I grinned and nodded.

Soon we were galloping after the others, water and sand seemingly rushing by in a whirl. In the breeze, my hair whipped along behind me and my skirt flapped about, showing my knickers to any passing seagull that cared to look, but I didn’t care; this was wonderful!

There were lots to do on Muckle and I was going to be part of everything. I would, once things got sorted out on the island, go to somewhere good and discrete and have the operation to finally finish off the process that started when I was six years old, when I tried on my mum’s slip.

Once I was healed and in full working order, I would then marry Alistair, if he wasn’t fed up with me by then, and have children. I had no problems about adopting and no hang-ups about not being able to give birth to my own; there were plenty of kids out there that were desperate for a home and I intended to have as many as Alistair would agree to.

‘Good isn’t it?’ shouted Isabel in my ear, as we pelted along at breakneck speed.

‘Gosh, it’s bloody marvellous,’ I replied, laughing and hanging on to her for dear life.

All in all, I felt that I was the luckiest girl alive.