A Grumpy Old Man’s Tale 42 Adoption, Education and Death
Petra, who thought of himself as Peter, was an eleven year old trans boy from a hamlet not far from Mousehole in Cornwall who was despised and abused by his family, especially his father. Eventually he’d been so badly hurt by his father that after collapsing at school he’d been taken by ambulance to hospital where he stayed for several weeks with numerous serious skeletal injuries including a dozen broken ribs, two of which had punctured his lungs. Along with his twin sister, Brigitte, he’d been taken into care by ‘Together for Families’, which was the official name of the children’s services of Cornwall Council. Because they’d said the only person they trusted was each other so refused to be separated, and they’d said they would run away should separation even be considered the Social workers were looking for foster parents who would take them both preferably with adoption in the short term in mind. The Social workers managed to keep the twins together in foster care, but it was only a short term placement, for the carers were not looking to adopt. The twins had no caring relatives and had said they had no friends they would miss.
When asked how they would feel about moving a long way away from Cornwall, which had a distinct and unique Celtic culture including its own language, Brigitte had replied the further away they went the better as long as her brother was safe. At that their Social worker telt them about the NCSG(1) organisation that all Social Service departments had access to that covered the entire British Isles, not just the UK. She warned them that an offer of a safe, permanent home would be almost certain within a week, but it could be anywhere in the British Isles including the Scottish Highlands and Islands, Wales, Northern Ireland, the Isle of Man and Eire, the last two of which were not a part of the UK. Brigitte said again it would be okay and they would be happy wherever they went as long as Peter was safe.
The NCSG organisation immediately put Harriet and Gustav forward as suitable parents, but the logistics of setting up compatibility meetings with over five hundred miles separating the children and Bearthwaite were difficult. Gustav, asked the Cornish Social workers over the phone if it would be acceptable for Cumbrian Social workers to manage the introductions in Cumbria. Together for Families wasn’t happy, but its case workers accepted that it was probably the best that could be done under the circumstances and started talking about rail versus road journeys. Gustav said that was ridiculous and he and Harriet would pay for the children to fly from Bristol to Newcastle upon Tyne if Cornish Social workers saw the children onto the plane and Cumbrian Social workers collected them off it. He added if things didn’t go well they’d pay for them to return the same way and if accommodations were required he would provide whatever rooms were required at the Green Dragon for the children and their Social worker escort. The three way Zoom conversation was a much less painful affair than he and Harriet had anticipated. Harriet said afterwards, “I think it went so smoothly because the two sets of Social workers didn’t want to be seen disagreeing with each other in front of us.” Gustav merely nodded suspecting Harriet was right.
Gustav arranged for and prepaid for a taxi from the children’s short term foster home in Penzance to Bristol airport, whence they flew to Newcastle airport. He’d also engaged a limousine to take the two Social workers and Harriet and himself to the airport to collect the children and their luggage and then return all of them to Bearthwaite. The children arrived excited, nervous and tired. Harriet was upset at how little they had in the way of clothing and personal possessions. After introductions, Gustav asked the children how their journey had been. Brigitte who seemed to do most of the talking for both of them replied, “Three and a half hours to drive a hundred and eighty miles from Penzance to Bristol, just over an hour to fly three hundred and fifty miles from Bristol to Newcastle and an hour to drive forty miles from Newcastle to Bearthwaite. I looked it all up on the internet at school. I don’t think we’ve taken it all in yet. Is it always this cold here?”
Harriet replied, “It’s warmer at Bearthwaite than here. However, it will be colder than what you are used to, but we’ll buy some warmer clothes for you soon. If you like I can ask one of the women who knit for a living to make you Nordic yoked jumpers. The patterns run all the way around them and match those on the sleeves too. They are knitted on a single flexible knitting needle with points at each end and are popular with children of your age because children from outside Bearthwaite know how expensive they are in the shops. It’s a status thing.” Seeing a look of apprehension cross the children’s faces and correctly interpreting it she added, “But don’t worry. The ones knitted at Bearthwaite only cost so much to outsiders. Louise won’t charge me anywhere near that. Many of the patterns are traditional centuries old ones and the wool used is always from our own flocks. If any of the children at school see you wearing one they’ll know you’re from Bearthwaite.” Deliberately changing the subject, Harriet asked, “Are you hungry? If you are we can eat before we go home.”
Brigitte turned to look at Peter who shook his head. She replied, “No thank you. We’d rather go and see where we are going to. Will we have to share a room? We did at the last place.”
Gustav replied gently to that, “No. You’re far too old a girl to share a room with your brother. You know that we keep a inn?” There were nods. “It’s more like a hotel. We have forty-five going on forty-eight rooms depending on how we arrange them. Like parts of Cornwall we are a popular tourist destination, but at this time of the year we don’t have many guests, so the Green Dragon is a bit quiet at the moment and there are a lot of rooms available, but it becomes busy over the summer.”
One of the Social workers seeing how well things were going said, “You seem to have organised everything to run like clockwork, Mr Meltzer.”
Gustav grinned and replied, “But of course. I’m German. Organisation is what we’re known for.”
Peter spoke for the first time. “If you are German shouldn’t that be Herr Meltzer? I was learning German at school. What does Meltzer mean?”
Gustav smiled and said, “Indeed it should be Herr Meltzer, but I don’t make an issue of it, and Frau Harriet Meltzer doesn’t sound very natural does it? Meltzer means maltster, someone who turns barley into malt for making beer or whisky. My mother and three brothers own and run a large inn just outside München, that’s Munich in Bavaria, called der Kupfer Braukessel which means the Copper Brew Kettle. My family have run the inn for many generations, and a long time ago the beer was brewed on the premises. All the beer making equipment from there is now in my brewery at Bearthwaite which makes the beer selt in the Green Dragon. So now I truly am a Meltzer.”
“What is selt? And how come you are not over in Germany, Herr Meltzer?”
“Selt is the word locals use for sold, Brigitte. There are a number of words you’ll hear that will be unfamiliar to you that are only used this far north. The dialect here is heavily influenced by Nordic, that is old Scandinavian speech, for the Vikings had a long history here a long time ago that still lives on in the way we speak. Some of the hill shepherds here speak a dialect called High Fell that is so Norse that few inside Cumbria and none outside Cumbria can understand them. They even have their own numbers used for counting sheep. I only know up to ten but they go up to twenty and are slightly different in just about every area. Yan, tan, tethera, methera, pimp, sethera, lethera, hovera, dovera, dick is what I know cos that’s what the Bearthwaite shepherds use. However, they can communicate with the Scandinavian sailors, who are mostly Norwegian or Icelandic, that put in to Cumbrian ports. There are a goodly number of shepherds who live in the Bearthwaite valley, but they spend most of their lives up on the fells with their flocks. Whereas, as I understand it, the dialect in Cornwall is heavily influenced by older Celtic words, which is essentially what comprises Kernowek.(2) Gustav finished learning his English here, so he speaks the Cumbrian version of English too. He went to university in Glasgow which is in Scotland, about a hundred and fifty miles north of home, and he is still here because he met me and decided to stay. His selt his share of der Kupfer Braukessel to his brothers and he invested a lot of the money into the Dragon and his brewery. If you don’t want anything to eat I suggest we find the taxi to get out of the cold and go home. We brought some snacks which are in the car. There’re are some cartons of fruit juice too.”
The twins were quietly impressed that Harriet had taken the trouble to learn all that about whence they came. “Wow! A limo with a chauffeur. Why? And what are the fells?”
“Well, Peter. We expected you to have a lot more luggage, and actually it’s a chauffeuse, a lady driver.” Seeing the looks on the children’s faces, looks indicating they felt they had disappointed and let the couple down Harriet smiled brightly and said, “Don’t worry about it. Mum and I enjoy shopping. We’ll probably use the village bus to go on a shopping safari with other women and girls from Bearthwaite to Carlisle or Workington where I’ll try to spend all of Gustav’s money again. Peter, I can see that the idea of a shopping spree with a load of women and girls doesn’t exactly fill you with joy. So how about we see what we can find on Ebay for you some time? because you need more clothes. Bearthwaite isn’t in the arctic, but you do need some clothes that are warmer than what you are wearing. Okay? Oh, and lastly before I forget, the fells is the Cumbrian word for the hills that surround where most of the folk here live. I imagine they are a bit like the moors of Cornwall and Devon, higher land with a lot of rock that is mostly grazed by sheep.”
Peter smiled and nodded before saying, “Thank you. I’m not into shopping.”
There wasn’t much conversation in the car till they reached the Bearthwaite Lonning Ends when Harriet said, “Once we turn off the main road here we are on Bearthwaite Lonning. A lonning is a lane. Bearthwaite Lonning is a private road on private land that belongs to all the folk of Bearthwaite. All the land on both sides of the road as far as the fences at the foot of the slopes going up to the fells is owned by the Bearthwaite residents. The village isn’t quite nine miles away from here. That water you can see coming out of the large pipes in front of us off to our right is from the pumps that take flood water off the road the other side of the hill in front of us that we go over in a minute. The Bearthwaite valley proper starts on the other side of the small hill which we call The Rise.” Harriet and Gustav explained at length about the floods and how the Bearthwaite residents coped with them by using a combination of the pumps and the newly refitted covered boat, The Bearthwaite Queen. Gustav laughed as he telt the children Bearthwaite Queen was also the name of a popular locally bred and grown variety of potato. That conversation lasted till they reached the Green Dragon.
The young male case worker who had come from Birmingham in the Midlands listened in amazement to the explanations the children were being given. The case worker who had grown up in Cumbria doubly so, for few outsiders were given so much information and what they were given most didn’t believe. Bearthwaite folk had a reputation in the county for being clannishly different, at least a century behind the times and it was believed by many, without evidence, that they were so highly interbred that most of the folk who lived in the valley never left it for they were simple. Titillating tales of generations of incest were commonplace. In fact though it was true to say that Bearthwaite folk were clannish, different and that in many ways they held to older social values, it was anything but true to say they were highly interbred. For well over a millennia the valley had been a pack pony route and the traders had always brought fresh blood to the valley along with their goods, often courtesy of the facilities offered at the Green Dragon, and many over the years had settled there with a local girl. Since those days, civil engineers and the men who’d worked creating the reservoir, quarry and mill workers from outside and most recently tourists had provided the Bearthwaite folk with a far wider gene pool than most of the county could boast. In the last two decades the practice of deliberately attracting suitable outsiders with desirable skills and knowledge had brought not just fresh blood but wealth too.
As the party of six stepped out of the car outside the Green Dragon they were greeted by Gladys and Pete. “My mum and dad. If you decide to stay they’ll be your gran and granddad,” was how Harriet made the introductions. Gladys hugged the children and kissed their foreheads. Pete kissed Brigitte and smiled as he held his hand out for Peter to shake. Peter was more than grateful for the masculine treatment though he said nothing.
Pete said, “I’ll shew you to your room, Peter, and your gran can escort your sister to hers. The two rooms are on parallel corridors not quite opposite each other. We gave you those because they have en suite bathrooms. We’ll have someone fetch your luggage in a few minutes. We’ll be eating dinner in the family dining room in about an hour. There are some snacks and fruit juice cartons in your rooms. When you’re ready just walk down the corridors towards the rear of the building where we’ll be. Okay?”
The Social workers were talking to Harriet and Gustav. The senior of the two, the Cumbrian woman, said, “That went much better than we considered likely or even possible. Obviously we’ve never met the children before, but we’ve read their notes and they make for grim reading. Pet―” She recovered herself from the partial use of Peter’s dead name quickly, but not quickly enough to avoid Harriet noticing, “Peter still has most of the bruises and the broken bones are still mending and so will not be allowed to take part in games or gym at school till a doctor signs off on the injuries. Once the adoption has gone through a copy of the notes will be given to you. Harriet, I suggest that Gustav reads them first and decides if you really should read them, for you seem to be sensitive to such matters. I will tell you now that both their parents are heavily into drugs, drink and debauchery and both are violent. It’s a miracle the children are alive. They’ll both go to gaol, but they’ll not be there for long and doubtless when they are released it’ll be business as usual. Fortunately they only had the two children.”
Harriet had noted dispassionately that neither of the Social workers had yet used he, him or his when referring to Peter since their meeting at the airport. She was now incensed by the case worker’s misnaming Peter Petra, for it telt her everything she wished to know about the case worker’s attitudes to the transgender. However, she gave nothing away considering that was information best saved till it could be used to maximum effect, for it would have been documented by her lapel recorder. Laughing a dry bitter laugh Harriet said, “If there had been any case notes on me I doubt very much if they’d have made any easier reading than Peter’s. You already know Dad adopted me and that I was his eldest brother’s youngest child. He was a monster who brutalised me, but to be honest I ran away as much from Social Services as from him. To a fourteen fifteen year old you have a poor image and a worse track record. That’s why I lived on the streets of Manchester till I was old enough for you to have no say in my life before I contacted Dad. Anyway, that’s water under the bridge. I shall talk to the children, but I want them seen by our local doctor and one of our local dentists. As regards that sort of thing I only trust folk whom I know well.”
The Social workers considered it wisest not to respond to Harriet’s condemnation of Social Services, and one asked, “There’s a doctor here? and dentists? Much of Cumbria is surviving on locums.”
“Yes. Sun is a good doctor who trained in a major London hospital and we have a married pair of dentists. Beth in is the last trimester of her pregnancy, so she is only working part time, but Tony works full time. I want the children to have settled in for at least a fortnight before going to school at Whiteport Academy. That will give them enough time to get to know and be known by all the other local children who attend there too which will give them the protection they will need. They speak differently which will make them targets for the bullies to have a go at, but no child there under the protection of the Bearthwaite kids will suffer more than verbal abuse, and wearing a locally produced Nordic jumper will keep the thugs off them for fear of retribution. Changing the subject, I would like to point out that I have noticed that as yet neither of you have referred to Peter using he, him or his. I’m not making a big issue of it, but it’s glaringly obvious and some would consider that to be an offensive discriminatory stance. I’m glad your use of his dead name did not take place in front of either of the children. That was totally unacceptable coming from a Social Worker. I suggest it doesn’t happen again.” Harriet’s voice was chill and she’d been thinking it may have been better had they covered the expense of the Cornish Social workers to come north and then return, for they had seemed to be far more tolerant that the Cumbrian Social workers, but it was too late for that now.
The Cumbrian case workers had always known that all conversations with Harriet and Gustav were recorded, for they had always openly worn lapel recorders. Too, they knew that there were records of all communications both paper and electronic, but that was the point that drove it home that they needed to be more careful in their dealings with the couple who had yet again wrong footed them. Some time ago they had insisted that Harriet and Gustav remove the recorders. The couple had refused and then and there Gustav had contacted the local director of Social services who had informed her case workers they had no right to insist their interactions were not video recorded. When they had returned to their office they had been reprimanded and asked, “What do you have to hide? If that you insisted that records of your meetings were not kept became public you and the entire service would be castigated by the media and accused by inference of all sorts of things. The best I can do is equip you with recorders too, so if there is any doubt as to what was said or done we will have our own evidence.”
Recently the case workers involved had been made aware that Harriet and Gustav had far more money at their disposal than they had realised and moreover that they would be prepared to use however much it took to achieve what they desired. Like a lot of Social workers they were used to being able to ride rough shod over their clients whenever it suited them and they resented that they were dealing with an intelligent couple with more money and more influence than they had at their disposal. A couple who gave them every politeness but no deference which stuck in their gullets. When they were telt that Professor Sasha Vetrov, a local multi billionaire who lived at Bearthwaite, regarded Harriet’s mother as his daughter and Harriet as a granddaughter they’d been shaken badly.
Mrs Beattie, the extremely intelligent and enlightened new local Social Services director, had been appointed to bring the department up to date in order to avoid any further cases like the recent spate of cases that had seriously tarnished its reputation. Mrs Beattie had dealt with case workers over the matter of the recorders, and had telt them weeks ago, after what had been for them a particularly difficult conversation with Harriet and Gustav because they were not used to being treated as no more than equals, “It is obvious to me that if you upset them, or worse if in their opinion you upset their prospective child or children, this couple will clearly go to war against you with a weekly budget that is hundreds if not millions of times your annual budget. They are considered by the NCSG to be ideal parents for troubled trans children who need a new life. Children who will need them much more than they need us. Part of our job, which we are paid to do out of the public’s tax money, is to match children in need of families with those families. We need that couple, they do not need us, for they are wealthy enough to adopt from abroad which would leave us still to find homes for any children they could have adopted here. Our job is difficult enough without you making it more so. I suggest you settle your hackles back down, for you have nothing against them other than that they have a vastly bigger budget than yours and rightly they will not accept your word as gospel. I don’t, so why should they. As I see it they clearly have children’s interests as their priority and if anything ends up in court you will be crucified and lose.
“That couple will doubtless take anything to court if they consider it in the interests of a child to do so, and it won’t be a local magistrate you can intimidate who will hand down the final judgement it would be at the least be a high court judge. If I am called to testify as doubtless their solicitor would insist on I should have to say that I agree with them. Their solicitor is by the bye reputed to be one of the best in the county and far more astute than anyone we can afford. She lives at Bearthwaite and from what I can gather would do the work gratis for she is trans too and in a relationship with a local man. I suggest you realise in advance that if you ask me to protect you from the witness box to do so I would have to suppress some of the paperwork and commit perjury which is subject to a ten year gaol sentence, and for what? Even if it worked, which I doubt, all it would shew is that your subjective opinion were better than someone else’s. No thank you. I’m not prepared to protect your dubious and I consider fallacious opinions and your egos too at the risk of my freedom.
“I suggest you start to realise you are Social workers not gods. However, it’s your decision, but if you lose a court case I’ll fire you for incompetence. Even if you win I may fire you for bringing the department into disrepute by subjecting any child involved to the stress of it all. I’ve studied all the paperwork and I agree with NCSG, who are notoriously impartial and completely free of prejudice which is why they can provide parents for children no matter what their issues are, this couple are perfect, and Harriet obviously will understand a trans child far better than you or I ever could. NCSG provide us all with solutions to our most thorny problems. The price we pay for that is that they are completely independent and under the control of nobody but themselves. They offer solutions and having asked for their assistance it is up to Social Service departments to either accept or reject what they offer. Of course if we reject what they offer and the lives of the children involved suffer that they won’t hesitate to go up against us in court is the risk we take, and I’m not going there. That the Meltzers won’t kowtow to you as superior beings whose views are of greater significance than theirs does not justify your attitudes to them. If anything I would suggest it indicates that they will be good, and by that I mean protective, parents. I suggest you start treating them with the respect they deserve. If you don’t you will the ones who get hurt at the end of it all. I also suggest you forget all the nonsense that flies about the county and beyond concerning Bearthwaite folk, for it is clearly based on what is nothing more than xenophobic jealousy.” Harriet pulling them up concerning their lack appropriate pronoun usage had brought what their director had said to them weeks ago back to the front of their minds. Given their views they were on their own. The new brush that was Mrs Beattie was sweeping exceedingly clean.
The children had moved five hundred miles north from Mousehole to the border with Scotland, physically from a warm, mild, welcoming climate to a cold and occasionally bleak and bitter one, but socially and emotionally they had made the trip the other way round. Fifteen minutes after meeting Harriet and Gustav they knew they would, for the first time in their lives, be safe from adult abuse and they had rapidly started taking up the values that would make Bearthwaite folk of them. That first evening when Harriet telt them that she was trans all vestiges of their remaining doubts as to the genuineness of the love their new parents wished to unconditionally give them disappeared. When she’d asked them what their birthday was, Brigitte had said, “August the first. Why?”
Harriet had replied, “Excellent. That gives you plenty of time to get to know all the local children before the party. I suggest a huge party in the Dragon dance hall, for not just you two but for myself and your dad too, to celebrate not just your twelfth birthday but you coming to live here too. You’ll have lived here for several months by then, so we’ll have a small party as soon as you have made some friends here as well.”
The Social workers called at Bearthwaite from time to time, sometimes announced, often not, sometimes one of them, sometimes both of them. They were a little irritated that Harriet and Gustav didn’t always know where the children were. However, on one occasion Gustav had said, “We wish to be the parents of a couple of eleven year olds not their gaoler. At that age they need to be allowed some freedom in order to develop into well balanced adults. I did. Can’t you remember that far back? As they grow they’ll need more and more till they need no more, for by then they will have become masters of their own destiny, and I have no intention of constraining their behaviour in such a way as to prevent the development of themselves that they are entitled too.” The Social worker was taken aback yet again by Gustav’s command of English and his amazing vocabulary both of which were, notwithstanding his obvious Bavarian accent, much better than hers. “Peter I last saw with Dad going fishing. I don’t know where, and I didn’t ask. He’ll be perfectly safe with Dad and enjoys the company of his grandfather, for it’s probably less intense than mine. After all I’m just his father, but Dad is his friend. Brigitte said she and some friends were going to make sure some of our older residents, mostly grandparents of her friends, were okay and do any errands they needed doing. After that they were going to their friend Ally’s house to try on some new clothes. She’s probably still there. If she’s stopping to eat there Bella Ally’s mum will tell her to ring home to let us know.” The Social worker realised she had no cogent argument to retort with and backed off knowing the entire conversation had been recorded.
Peter found his niche in life when he discovered the activities of the Bearthwaite Model Train Society and was particularly interested in the history and modelling of the Solway Junction Railway viaduct. He spent hours poring over old photographs and accounts of it’s construction and use and ultimate demise due to ice and corrosion damage. When he’d been ratching(3) on the internet for ways to scratch build bridges from photographic and written records he’d come across the three swing bridges at Warrington that were over the Manchester Ship Canal. Further ratching discovered the Warrington high level bridge and the two M6 motorway bridges that formed the mile long Thelwall viaduct that were over the ship canal and the river Mersey, but he considered he’d hit the jackpot when he discovered the two swing bridges at Barton over the ship canal. Side by side were a road bridge carrying the B5211 and a canal bridge carrying the Bridgewater Canal. He saved all the data and web addresses and made all the notes he considered necessary. When he next met Jeremy he asked if working models of the two swing bridges could be incorporated into the proposed layout. Jeremy had looked at all of Peter’s information and agreed that it would indeed be an excellent, if challenging, task to make working models complete with moving ships, barges, boats, and motor vehicles.
Jeremy had paused a few seconds and added, “There is a modeller on You tube called Patrick McFarlan, Ranoak is the name of his layout, who has modelled several amazing animated scenic mechanisms including the Falkirk wheel,(4) a wind turbine, a vampire villa, a ride on lawnmower, a lift bridge that takes a road over a canal and a level crossing, all of which are on one video. He gives some technical details of the mechanisms and their suppliers too.” Jeremy had opined that given the space in the mill they had at their disposal they could have at least one distinctly themed area between the two currently projected areas, those being the Silloth on Solway scene and the science fiction futuristic scene, and the ship canal bridges scene, which historically was between them, could be one of them. Jeremy was pleased that so many of the children were so creative, for it looked like their layout would be one of the best.
At school Peter was naturally enough asked why he wasn’t allowed to do games or gym, “I was involved in a bad accident, broken legs, arms, busted ribs, jaw, cracked skull and fractured pelvis. I have to have monitoring xrays every month and the doctors say it’ll be at least six months maybe a full year before I’m allowed to do anything other than walk. I’m not even supposed to run which is a pain, and as for climbing trees Mum would kill me if she found out I’d been doing that.” Naturally enough it was assumed the accident was a car crash, and the Bearthwaite kids who knew the truth kept it to themselves.
One of Peter’s classmates from Whiteport who knew he was adopted said, “Kinda cool getting a new granddad with the same name as yours isn’t it? Better than me at any rate. I get called Little Dave cos my dad is Dave too. Still it could be worse, he could have been named Richard. Even being called Little Dave is better than being called Little Dick.” He laught and continued, “I don’t suppose my old man would object to being called Big Dick though.” The two laughing boys made their way to their history lesson and were still laughing as they sat down. Eventually it became known that Peter was trans. Most of the kids had heard of trans girls, but had never considered that there could be trans boys too. There was a deal of name calling resulting from that, but after the first serious beating by forces unknown of the most vociferous bigot, an overweight fifteen year old who went by the nickname of Porky, behind the dining hall even the name calling diminished to almost nothing. The entire school knew the Bearthwaite kids had to have been responsible, but they were as closed mouthed about the matter as they always were about any incident that protected their own and as usual the school authorities were frustrated by finding out nothing, for Dean, Porky’s real name, had clearly been terrorised into silence and stuck to his story that he’d seen nobody. The rumour was that he’d been telt if he opened his mouth he’d be the next transgender victim of the gossip and he wouldn’t be needing GRS because it would already have been done for him, but none knew if that were true or just scuttlebutt.
Imogen a reasonable girl from Whiteport said, “I wish I had friends that would look after me like that. Anyone who upsets one of the Bearthwaite kids is bonkers, you take one of them on and you take all of them on, and there’s no reason to, cos they’re all decent kids, and none of them are bullies. Whoever did it did right, for Porky had it coming, and I notice he keeps to himself now. I heard he was threatened with much worse if he didn’t leave the little kids alone. The Bearthwaite kids aren’t going to change, cos they don’t care if they get expelled. They know they can be home schooled just like they are when they can’t get to school when their road floods. I heard that Bearthwaite is going to set up its own secondary school and they won’t be coming here after that which will be rubbish, cos I like them and they do sort the idiots out which makes things better for all the rest of us. Lara my science practicals partner is from Bearthwaite and she’s really nice.”
It took Peter much longer than his sister to settle in at Bearthwaite, and more particularly to get used to the idea that everyone there, adult and child, accepted him as a boy. It took Violet who was three years older than him the best part of ten months to obtain her first kiss off him. They travelled to school together, but what bonded them was their shared interest in the Model Railway Society, though Violet was particularly interested in the Silloth on Solway railway station and its sidings, both lost to the Beeching(5) axe decades before. Violet was also interested in modelling the nearby grade two listed building that was the Silloth Convalescent home, now a nursing home though still named the Convalescent home and referred to by locals as the Convo, which was built a hundred and fifty years before far out onto the dunes. She had hundreds of photos of the building and its environs taken over its entire history and was planning on a combination of kit bashing(6) and scratch building(7) her model. She laughingly referred to it as bit scrashing(8) which was a jumbled up portmanteau expression she had coined herself.
The Convo had had its own railway station(9) used for injured soldiers to arrive at from the First World War in need of its care. Violet was aware men from Bearthwaite had been cared for there. It had also taken women workers who’d suffered accidents in the huge (nine miles long with two created townships and its own transport system) Gretna munitions factory on the other side of the Solway in Scotland. At one time the Convalescent home had had its own dance hall though that had been converted into extra rooms for the residents some somewhere round twenty oh five. An outsider who had moved into the area a few years before had agreed to remove the Canadian red oak flooring from the dance hall in exchange for the flooring and it was rumoured to have been reused in his huge, centuries old, local house that had been completely modernised over the last twenty years. Violet’s interest in modelling the huge World War Two RAF airfield and the many aircraft hangers associated with it that had covered thousands of hectares [1 hectare = 2½ acres] of farm land with concrete and tarmac was because she was aware men from Bearthwaite had served there. She had done paper and card mock ups of the hangers and had been more that satisfied with the results.
Brigitte although too young to legally work was interested in the allotments, the kitchens and silver service waitressing in the Green Dragon, the last two of which all at Bearthwaite made sure Social Services were not aware of. It was no problem to them, for they had been covering for hundreds, if not thousands, of children who wished to do what outsiders would consider to be the illegal exploitation of juveniles for decades. Many of the younger adults remembered well when they had been so covered for, and their attitude was that if the kids were interested and wished to gain what schools would call work experience what right had any to prevent them just because they were being paid, which was considered only right and proper. Brigitte spent most of her spare time at the allotments helping Johnto. Johnto was an elderly allotmenteer who, as well as growing his own variety of potatoes which were reputed to be the best available for chips [US fries], had heated greenhouses and focussed on semi tropical fruit and vegetables. She was delighted when the Bearthwaite Lonning became impassable for the first time after her moving north due to flooding because it meant she and her family were safe from the surprise visits by Social workers if she helped in the kitchen and waited on tables in her free time. Both she and her brother were given a generous allowance that was completely independent of whatever help they provided, so she didn’t consider that she was working. She was merely doing what she enjoyed and would have bitterly resented it if she had been prevented from doing so.
Brigitte had enjoyed helping Christine make and jar marmalade which was traditionally made early in the year when the bitter Seville oranges became available. A number of different marmalades were made not all of which used Sevilles. Christine’s intention had been to lay down a year’s supply for the village and Brigitte had enjoyed designing the labels with help from Eli who had taught her and some of her friends how to use design software to create them. Eli had printed them onto laser cut coloured sheets of sticky label paper and Brigitte and Ron, who was in the year above her at school had stuck them onto the jars. It had been only a matter of a month before she became on kissing terms with Ron, a shy twelve year old Bearthwaite boy whose major free time activity also involved the allotments where he helped his granddad and dad grow herbs and early season forced rhubarb as well as main crop summer rhubarb. They both intended to help Christine canning considerable quantities of the forced rhubarb as soon as it became available and were looking forward to jam, pickle and relish making later in the year. They were already designing the labels.
The children had been with Harriet and Gustav for six weeks when Peter said after dinner, “Mum, Dad, I have something I want to tell you, but I don’t want you to tell the Social workers. I know you don’t like them. I can tell. If you won’t promise not to tell them I’ll leave it till after the adoption then it won’t matter any more, but I’d rather tell you now, Mum.”
Harriet looked at Gustav who gave the barest nod of his head. She then said, “I think I know what you mean. I can promise and your dad will too, but if your father raped you, Peter, you need to see a doctor and no doctor would promise. The law doesn’t allow them to.”
Peter started to cry, but stammered through his tears, “No. No, but he said he was going to rape me till he got me pregnant to teach me a lesson for being such an unnatural pervert, but we were taken away before he touched me. He was going to. Him beating me up and putting me in hospital was all that saved me. It sounds mental, but I think I got lucky. I used to have nightmares about it every night, but I haven’t had one for a week now. If you don’t believe me, Brigitte was there when he said what he was going to do to me.”
The children had rarely referred to their father, and as far as Harriet and Gustav were aware had never referred to their mother. When the children referred to their father they invariably referred to him by pronouns only. “I, we that is, believe you, Love, but why don’t you wish us to say anything. We promised and will keep that promise, but don’t you want him punished?”
Brigitte answered, “Yes, but neither of us want to have to face him in court. We’d rather just forget him. He threatened to do the same to me if either of us ever said anything. We know he can’t get to us now, but we talked about it and about telling you and we decided we wanted to tell you, but we’d rather just forget about it now that you know. The Social workers would make us go to court wouldn’t they?”
Gustav said, “Almost certainly, and if you refused they would probably claim we were manipulating you and take you away from us. So we do understand, and if it makes you happier to just leave it, then just leave it.”
Harriet said, “They are bullies really and that’s why I don’t like them. When I ran away from my father Bert, who was Dad’s eldest brother, I went to Manchester and lived on the streets. I knew I could have contacted Dad and he would have taken me in, but I was frightened of what the Social workers would do to me if they found out, so I didn’t contact Dad till I was sixteen when they couldn’t do anything to me. Once the adoption goes through if you feel differently about it all you need to do is say so and we’ll support you no matter what you decide. The Social workers will not be able to take you away from us then. Now changing the subject to something pleasanter, it’s a school day tomorrow, so I suggest you make sure you are fully prepared and that includes doing any homework that you haven’t yet done. Okay? Or have you anything else to tell us?”
“No, Mum, nothing else. We have some geography to finish, but that’s not my idea of pleasanter.”
The Social workers had soon realised after Brigitte and Peter had gone to live at Bearthwaite that Bearthwaite, although a strangely different environment they were not familiar with and didn’t understand at all, was a place where Brigitte and Peter were thriving under the care of their new family, and their neighbours too, and the adoption was finalised within four months. Much to their bitter resentment Harriet had then said, “So that’s it now isn’t it. There is no longer any need for you to visit again.” The Social workers had protested saying that that was not how it was done. Harriet had replied, “Well it is now. You don’t visit other kids with their parents because you don’t have the right to so do, and these are legally my kids now and according to Adalheidis Levens you no longer have the right to so do with us either. After what they’ve been through, and I suspect it’s far worse than you could ever imagine, I desire that their lives become as normal as possible, and normal does not include Social Services knocking on the door for a visit and inspection every few days. Bearthwaite Lonning is private property that you no longer have permission to access. To do so you will need a magistrates’ bench warrant, which you won’t get, or you are guilty of trespass, and Adalheidis won’t hesitate to prosecute. The police won’t assist you because they know better. There is only one policeman welcome here, and he was born and reared here. Michael is one of us and the one the police send when they have any business here.
“I have no intention of adopting just two children, but I’ll warn you in advance if you make that difficult because I have refused to allow you to overstep your rights and impinge upon mine and my children’s you’ll end up in court. Now let’s at least try to part amicably. We’ll maybe meet again when Gustav and I adopt further children, but it may be preferable to you to let other case workers deal with that.” What Harriet did not tell them was that she had already requested that different case workers be assigned in the future, preferably ones who had no problems using appropriate pronouns in regard to trans children, and who did not misname them. Mrs Beattie the local director had rung her up after receiving her email to discuss the matter. Harriet had explained to her that neither of the case workers assigned had ever used he, him or his in connection with Peter and that on several occasions Peter had been referred to as Petra by both of them. Harriet sent video copies of every conversation she and Gustav had had with either of the pair. A few days later Mrs Beattie rang her up again and said, “I’ve reviewed the conversations, both on your body cams and on theirs, and the correspondence, and all support your contention. I agree with you as to their unsuitability, so not only will you never have to deal with either of them again, till such time as they have successfully undertaken transgender specific training neither of them will deal with such cases in the future. I’m sure we shall be in contact with you again concerning other children. I have no idea how long it will take but there are moves afoot to enable NCSG to handle everything after children have been passed over to them to find a home for including the adoption applications. It is hoped by those like myself that will mean once NCSG have found a family for children they alone will have dealings with them and Social Services will not have any part to play.” She hesitated before asking, “I can’t help but be inquisitive about you, your husband, the children and Bearthwaite. Unprofessional I know, but may I visit you sometime? If you don’t wish to tell the children what my job is that would be fine.”
Harriet replied, “Come for lunch on Sunday. I’ll tell the children who and what you are and that you were the person who made the whole adoption process so much better for all of us. Unlike that pair of inadequates you are welcome. I don’t consider your request to be unprofessional at all, for I’m sure if I had your job I would like to see at first hand at least some of my successes.”
When Harriet telt the children about Sunday lunch Peter asked, “Now we are officially adopted, you think we should tell this lady about us being threatened with rape don’t you, Mum?”
“I think it is up to you to decide whether you tell her or not. That is neither my nor your Dad’s decision to make. It will not be an easy decision to make either way, but perhaps I can suggest something that may help you to make up your minds, though as I said having done so will be difficult either way. If you tell her what happened there is far less possibility that he will be able to hurt any else in the future when he gets out of prison. I can’t get my head around the idea that a father would systematically rape not one, but two of his children. Eleven year old children who are far to young to be involved in sex at that level, and I do know about you and Ron, Brigitte which is okay.” Brigitte flushed but said nothing, so Harriet continued, “Raping biological girls, and I make no apology for saying that, Peter, who have not yet reached menarche―” Seeing the look on her children’s faces Harriet said, “That’s having your first period. As I said raping them till they became pregnant. Such a man I imagine would be capable of almost anything no matter how depraved it be. To me he needs stopped(10) to protect other little girls, but as I said it’s not our decision to make. Whatever you decide your dad and I shall support you.”
Harriet opened her arms to Peter and Brigitte went to Gustav. Both children were sobbing, but eventually Peter said, “Let’s just do it, Brigitte. I don’t want to, but even less do I think I could live with myself if I heard that he’d done that to someone else. I can’t deny that I want to get my own back on him, Mum. Is that wrong? Am I being bad?”
“No, Love. It’s how I used to feel about my father who was never my dad. I don’t care any more because I have a really good life here, but what you feel is entirely natural. Like I said we’ll support you whatever happens.”
There was a long silence broken by Gustav when he asked, “You ready for the train to London next week, Peter?”
“Yeah, Doctor Wing said Doctor Tenby was one of his professors at university and is a really nice lady. When I asked him what she would do he telt me she would do a quick physical examination all over and give me a really long and tough grilling about being a boy. He said when she had finished she’d know what went on in my head better than I do. Which is okay because I’ll just be glad someone understands what goes on in there because I don’t. He took some blood to test my hormone levels and said the results would go to Doctor Tenby too. I think he expects me to be put on hormone tablets of some kind, but he didn’t seem sure, so he was reluctant to say much about that. I’m hoping I’ll be prescribed something so that I never have periods and don’t get breasts and a big bottom. I guess I’ll know a lot more next week. Will you come in to see the doctor with me, Dad?”
Gustav smiled at Peter’s use of the Cumbrian telt rather than told and was surprised that he wanted his dad with him rather than his mum, but schooling his face to give nothing away he simply replied, “If you want me to, yes.”
At that Peter smiled and said, “Good. Thanks.”
Sunday lunch was enjoyable and after a couple of hours sight seeing and chat. Harriet telt Mrs Beattie, “The children have something they have decided to tell you. It is about serious abuse and involves their father. We’ve set up a video camera in the office at the Dragon, so you can take away a copy of what they wish you to know with you.”
The children had finished in twenty minutes and Mrs Beattie said, “I am not going to ask you anything, so as not to taint any of your evidence. I would like to return in a few days with a solicitor and a barrister both of who are experienced in bringing such matters to court successfully. After that the police will be involved. I am not going to say anything concerning the likely outcome for your father. Thank you. That was very brave of you. I’ll leave now and then you can turn the recording device off.”
After Mrs Beattie had gone Harriet asked, “How do you feel now?”
Brigitte replied, “A lot better. I’m glad we’ve telt some one and I’m glad if it means it stops someone else from getting hurt. Now we can forget about it.”
Gustav looked at Peter who replied, “Hungry. I feel hungry. There’re two hours to go before dinner, so I’m going to ask Auntie Veronica to make me a corned beef and pickle sandwich. I really like her home made corned beef. It’s way better than what comes in a tin, cos it’s like proper meat not some kind of paste. Her sandwiches are brilliant. She cuts them into triangles which is super cool, and she uses spreadable pickle that is made from really small pieces of whatever is in it. Auntie Veronica telt me that the pickle is made by Auntie Christine as an imitation of something you can buy in the shops anywhere but it’s better.(11) I think people who don’t live here don’t know what they’re missing.”
After Peter left, Brigitte said to a worried looking Harriet, “Peter’s fine, Mum. If he weren’t, food would be the last thing on his mind even if he is into food in a big way.” She hesitated a little before asking, “Mum, how long do you think it will be till I get my first period. Some of the girls in my class have started theirs and they look more…” Brigitte’s voice faded away as she looked at her chest.
Harriet smiled and replied, “From the look of you not long, Pet. Maybe we should go shopping for some lingerie for you. Some padded training bras would help you feel that you weren’t being left behind by the other girls. There’re other things too that can help to give you a more feminine figure.”
Gustav said, “I’m going for a sandwich too if you’re going to start talking about die Büstenhalter.”(12)
After Gustav’s precipitate departure Harriet giggled and said, “We must have embarrassed your dad. He only talks in German when he feels under pressure or is upset. Die Büstenhalter, means brassières. They are usually called a BH which is pronounced bay hah which is the German equivalent of saying a bra. If Peter carries on with German maybe we should tell him that too.”
Brigitte smiled and said, “He’ll be interested for other reasons before long. He likes Violet and she’s three years older than us. She really likes Peter too, and she’s way in front of me. I think that’s a bit weird really cos girls usually like older boys, and loads of boys at school are interested in her, but she’s nice even if she is bonkers. Do you speak German, Mum?”
“Not well, Love, but I’m doing an online course and your dad is a great help. We spend time when we only speak German, and I Zoom his brothers’ wives and his mum regularly which helps too.” Harriet knew Violet as a buxom young woman of fourteen who sometimes helped Lucy at the grocers and was intrigued to discover she was interested in Peter. “How do mean Violet is bonkers, Love?”
“She’s really into the Model Railway thing at the mill. I know lots of girls are, but not the way she is. She’ll talk about it for hours if you let her. Like I said. Bonkers!”
Mother and daughter laught and decided to see what was available in the way of lingerie on the internet that was appropriate for tweens. It was whilst looking on the internet Brigitte said, “I don’t really like French, Mum. I think I’ll change to German. I’d like to be able to talk to Dad and the cousins in German too. What do you think?”
“Your decision, Love, but I think you’re making it for sensible reasons, and there are a couple of other folk who live here who can speak German too. Your Dad tells me he speaks with a Bavarian accent and so does Uncle Charlie. You know who I mean? Uncle Sasha apparently speaks really posh upper class German.”
Brigitte nodded and said, “Yeah course I know who they are. Cool. I never thought about there being accents in other languages.”
Gustav who didn’t wish to lose the possibility of Græme(13) becoming Bearthwaite folk and being able to work full time on what he knew Græme enjoyed a lot more than his mundane but high pressure job had simply asked him would he consider moving to Bearthwaite to work with Jean-Claude. Græme who was a chemical engineer with an extensive knowledge of zymurgy(14) had been working from time to time with Jean-Claude in Gustav’s distillery for months. Faith his wife was happy with the arrangement because it took most of the stress out of Græme’s life which was due to his job. He’d successfully managed to concentrate and brew out the last traces of sugars in the over sweet wines Jean-Claude had bought to start the distillery off with by freezing pure water out of the dilute sugar solution left after its initial distillation. Jean-Claude had been impressed and the two men worked well together and had become good friends. Græme had answered he would, but the financial implications meant it would be difficult for him to sell his house and move, and he’d added there was Faith’s job to consider too. Gustav had explained that BBEL would buy his house at a price he’d be happy with and recover the money when a suitable buyer came along, and that BBEL owned any number of houses in the valley that he and Faith could chose from. He added that an empty house was much easier to sell than one still occupied by folk stuck in the middle of a housing buying and selling chain. That BBEL wouldn’t be upset to take a loss on his house if it meant Bearthwaite acquired Græme and Faith as residents he didn’t mention.
As for Faith’s job Gustav explained that Elle via Murray was actively seeking good teachers to extend the primary school’s intake upwards in age all the way to eighteen so as to include A’ level(15) pupils, and since Faith was a known quantity there would be no need for an interview. If she wanted the job it was hers, and Murray would be grateful one of his headaches had gone away. Græme had explained they were having serious issues with neighbours and asked could it really all be settled that quickly, for he’d heard about any number of folk who’d desired to live at Bearthwaite, but had been unable to find a house there. Gustav has grinned, almost smirked, and said, “That would have been because they weren’t considered to be desirable neighbours, so nothing would have been available. For folk we consider desirable it really can be settled that quickly and that simply. You talk to Faith about it and decide if you wish to move. If you do ring me tomorrow, and you could be ensconced in a new property the day after or at the latest the day after that. All that needs done immediately is to move you and all your possessions. We can organise that in less than an hour. The Bearthwaite Shift It Team can do the actual removals within half a day.” He laught and added, “The team is just whoever is available at the time, but they’ve done removals at virtually no notice any number of times for folk we consider to be good neighbours, Bearthwaite folk.”
Faith was a welcome addition to the Bearthwaite school staff. She’d taught primary school children for years, but had trained as a middle school English teacher, so she was especially welcomed as she could teach three years beyond primary. She’d said she would also be able to teach English to GCSE classes which were the two years above that, and since her first degree was in psychology she’d be happy to teach that at A’ level if required to do so. Elle’s plans to extend the school all the way to A’ level pupils who left school at eighteen were finally coming together. They hadn’t found all the staff they needed for a full time ongoing situation, but they did have enough folk prepared to step up and do what was required to make it happen till the appropriate staff were found. It was all under wraps and the school staff had no intentions of revealing anything to the education authorities till September when the Bearthwaite secondary school pupils would simply cease going to school at Whiteport Academy and go to school locally. There was no legal requirement to inform anyone that pupils were now attending a private school, so to avoid having to deal with the grief they knew they’d get from the Local Education Authority they telt them nothing. Murray had effectively handed over the management of BBEL to Chance, Emily and Adalheidis and was focussing on adverts for teachers and then interviewing them.
Any number of Bearthwaite residents who normally had nothing to do with education were meeting together in the evenings to divide syllabi up and prepare schemes of work and even lesson plans. They knew what GCSEs(16) and A’ Levels they had to teach which was not a complete selection and knew they had the persons in place to do it. It would mean some subjects were taught by up to a dozen folk, but that did not imply those subjects would be ill taught. Team teaching had long been done when considered necessary due to the flooded lonning preventing the children going to school, and it could be done again. They had time in which to acquire teachers with a broader range of knowledge that was more specific to the syllabi, but as Elle said, “We could actually do it now if we had to. We would if the road flooded, for we’ve done it before and we did for an extended period of time during the Covid lockdown. That’s the best reason for educating the kids here, because then the state of the lonning is irrelevant.”
It had initially been decided that pupils who had already started their two year GCSE examination courses and those who’d started their two year A’ level courses should finish those courses at Whiteport Academy, unless the academy made their lives difficult in which case they would attend the second year of their course at Bearthwaite studying a course designed to pick up from what they had already covered. All other pupils would transfer to Bearthwaite school in the coming September. When the Bearthwaite kids heard about that the GCSE and A’ level pupils requested that regardless of the academy’s reactions they wished to finish their courses at Bearthwaite. Elle at a meeting of all those who’d had anything to do with teaching during the floods and the Covid lockdown asked, “I don’t want our kids unsettled or their studies disrupted, so for me it boils down to one question. Can we deliver what they need with a seamless transition from the academy to here?”
Liam, who was a retired mathematics teacher replied, “Much more easily and better for the kids too if we do it as part of a planned move rather than as an emergency measure because the academy becomes unpleasant and takes out their resentment on the kids causing us to withdraw them.” There were nods and expressions of agreement with that, so Liam continued, “If we make sure they know they have to bring all their exercise books and notes home with them at the end of the summer term, so that we can work out which bits of their various syllabi they have already covered and hence they need to revise and which bits they then have to learn in the second year of their courses, we’ll have six weeks over the summer holiday in which to analyse that information and plan their second year, and mind as long as the school offers a minimum number of three hundred and eighty sessions over a twelvemonth period we don’t have to start their school year in September.
“We could start our school year in October, even if we only did it this coming year. We already provide well over the thirty-two point five hour weekly requirement for our primary kids, and our enrichment activities are second to none. Since legally the kids are all privately educated few of the regulations apply to us, and Germain Beattie and NCSG have said they are more than willing to put it about that our kids get a better education than any state school in the land provides, as shewn by our examination statistics which Whiteport Academy can’t claim is due to their teaching because our kids do so much better than the rest and in any case we educate them for some where between a quarter and a third of the time due to the floods. The authorities know that if they give us a hard time Adalheidis will put egg all over their faces in court and the media too. We are not obliged to meet all the regulations, but we will in fact exceed them all by a considerable margin, so we don’t have anything to worry about.
“Picking up the teaching of the kids half way through their examination courses will be easy enough as long as we know what they’ve already done, and the syllabi can be down loaded off the internet. We shall need to check with the examination boards that all the children are registered with them because there’s no point in leaving anything to chance. We also need to seek accreditation as an examination centre so that the children can sit their examinations here. With the qualified teaching staff we already have and our track record concerning the existing primary school that will be no more than a formality, but it needs to be done as soon as possible, for it will take time.” He looked around with a questioning look and there were smiling faces all agreeing with him.
Elle asked, “So are you all willing to do that?” Again there were exclamations of agreement. “Has any any concerns?” There were none. “Right forget the previous plan. All the kids get taught here as of this September. Murray, how is the search for teachers going?”
“Better than I expected. I’m getting a goodly number of enquiries from teachers who are obviously having issues with their senior management teams, most due to PC(17) and cancel culture. I suspect either they won’t be provided with good references or they’ll be provided with excellent ones to get rid of them. Either way I’d rather make my own mind up and ignore the references. Every one of them clearly enjoys working with kids and is committed to teaching their subject which I suspect many have somewhat atypical approaches to which also causes them problems because they are not seen to fit into their schools’ systems. I reckon we’ll have a full staff of good teachers by September, but certainly at the worst we’ll fill any vacancies by no later than the new year. I’ve asked Jane to interview with me because I want a woman’s view on them as well. It’s not going to be easy, but we will get most of what we need before September.
“Any shortfall we’ll just have to fill ourselves, but we had to do a lot more than that during lockdown, and we managed, so we’ll cope. Jane is also going to work with Harry to put A’ level chemistry plans together. Harry is working with others on A’ level physics and biology. There’s a group of folk working on mathematics. I only know about STEM(18) subjects in detail, but I do know the rest of the subjects are being covered by other groups and I’m expecting details from them in the next few days. Neither Charlie nor Gustav wish to be involved in teaching, but both are prepared to host German conversation events in order to improve children’s fluency. Gustav is going to arrange a school exchange scheme for our kids and kids from the school he attended outside Munich. He’s thinking about the kids spending a fortnight together in each others homes and schools. I’ll provide the money for our kids to go as part of the school budget and I’ll include a decent amount of spending money for them buried in the costs too.”
Jane Wright was a Chemistry professor who worked at a university in the north east. She’d lived at Bearthwaite married to Arnie for going on a decade and half. Arnie’s first wife had left him and the children never to be heard of since. Jane had been Mum to his children as soon as she’d entered their orbit. That she was trans was not considered relevant for she was beyond doubt a Bearthwaite woman and mother in every sense. She would provide a fully female view on any interviewee. Harry was a qualified secondary teacher who’d never worked as a teacher. He was an intelligent, widely educated man who’d earned his entire living, a very good living it was known, as an A’ level private tutor across the entire spectrum of all subjects that comprised STEM and social sciences too. In his admittedly erratic life he’d also spent years driving a cab and had his own waggon which he currently used to earn a living with. He was a major part of the Bearthwaite Shift It Team.
Yet another of Murray’s problems went away when Eli’s friend Felicity Watson, who had been an army combat instructor, came to Bearthwaite for a holiday and took up with Geordie Granger, one of the Bearthwaite primary school teachers. Felicity was six foot two, broad of chest and shoulder and of a decided mannish visage and appearance. She was flat chested, had no hips and from behind looked like a man. She also had a hard look to her except when she smiled. Geordie who was six inches shorter than she afterwards admitted, “It was the smile that did it for me.”
After watching Eli teach the kids martial arts, and being telt by him about Felicity his teacher who he said had had a difficult life because of how she looked, Bertie had idly wondered long before Felicity came to visit Bearthwaite if she’d be interested in teaching sport in the extended school. Bertie had talked to Murray who’d said if Bertie could bring the matter to a successful conclusion he would be grateful. When Felicity had been at Bearthwaite for a fortnight Bertie had approached her concerning the matter. “But I don’t have any qualifications as a teacher,” she’d said in surprise.
“We are not an LEA(19) controlled school. We’re a private school and can hire anyone we like, though of course it’s only sensible to have the enhanced background checks required of state school teachers conducted by the police. You’ve not robbed any banks recently have you?”
Felicity chuckled and said, “No. Well not very recently.”
Bertie smiled and continued, “Anyway, any number of folk who teach the kids when the road floods aren’t teachers either. They’ve all had the police checks done though I must admit some of them had been teaching when required for going on a twelvemonth before the results came back.” He shrugged and added, “The kids needed teaching and here we’re in the position of being able to ignore the usual paperwork and bureaucracy. We do what we have to. You come with a personal recommendation from Eli who is someone we trust which matters an awful lot here. You’re certainly good enough to do the job, and Eli said unlike most folk you were nice to him when he was a kid when most of the folk he knew gave him a hard time for his effeminacy.
“Murray said if I could twist your arm into agreeing you’re now head of games and PE, boys as well as girls, and can help him out by interviewing to find as many games staff as you need. Full or part time he’s not bothered. Choose anything up to half a dozen full time equivalents, even if they all want full time because he’ll find something for them to do. He said Elle wants flexible folk who can actually do the job and enjoy working with kids like you. She doesn’t care if they’re qualified teachers or not because there are an awful lot of qualified teachers out there who shouldn’t be allowed anywhere near kids. I heard you and Geordie are looking for somewhere bigger than his spot to move into, so how about it? You want to live here with Geordie, and presumably you’ll want some kind of employment to avoid boredom if nowt else. Your contract would be as per the school teachers’ Burgundy Book(20) conditions for a head of a small department with a goodly number of extra benefits. We are not a member of NEOST,(21) the school teacher’s employers’ organisation, of which a member is the Local Government Association. The LGA(22) is a main mover and shaker of NEOST, but despite our differences we consider it’s workings in the main to be worth keeping up to date with. Our main disagreement with it is that it would consider our terms of service to be unaffordable. It’s a good deal you’re being offered, and Elle who currently has oversight of the school expansion wants you, we all do. The kids who do martial arts with Eli are desperate to meet you.” Bertie paused and finally added, “Eli telt us about the shit you got outside just for being yourself, but I can guarantee that won’t happen here. Ask Geordie.”
Felicity’s choices for her staff would have seemed strange to some, but they were approved of by Bearthwaite parents and their children too, for they were sport players not mere teachers. Sophia was a newly qualified young secondary trained teacher who’d played field hockey for Derbyshire ladies and wanted full time employment. She been happy to teach mostly younger children’s games and take charge of athletics and golf for all ages. Sebastian, who was known as Seb, was a very fit, middle aged, retired navy Chief Petty Officer who was going to work two and a half days a week, but who was prepared to do more when required, took over all gymnasium activities at which he was an expert having trained navy competition teams for twenty years. He’d competed himself till his early forties. Ralph, a retired football [US soccer] coach who was to work six afternoons a week, was going to deal with boys’ football and rugby and cricket during the summer. Maybel, a thirty-two year old national level ladies netball goal shooter and amateur marathon runner, who was to work two days a week mostly with older girls completed her staff. They all wished to live at Bearthwaite and those who wished to work part time wished to do so because they had other things they wished to do too. Seb was interested in horticulture and wished to be a part time allotmenteer. Ralph had said that due to his age he tired easily, but he was interested in the fish hatchery’s activities and would enjoy spending time there. Maybel said she was half way through an Open University mathematics degree and required time for study. That all four of Felicity’s staff were single was considered by many to be interesting and fortuitous.
It was raining, but the rain wasn’t heavy, so the road wouldn’t flood for at least twenty-four hours, and it was reasonably warm, so Pete expected a reasonable turnout of outsiders as well as a full contingent of local men who were inured to the weather and who he reckoned would turn out for the entertainment even if they had to use their hip waders. Gladys had prepared a dozen and a half rooms ready for the couples who would usually stay over night and any who were of a nervous disposition and weren’t prepared to chance the water till it subsided completely, and was ready to prepare many more if they were required. Pete had stoked the fires with logs, and coal to help them burn, and had brought enough of both into the taproom to more than see the night out. Late last year some of the locals had finished building a large wood and coal store using stone from the quarry. The store backed up to the rear wall of the Dragon and when it was finished they’d knocked a hole through the wall which Jack Levens had fitted with an external door to enable Pete to fetch fuel in without having to brave the elements. Earlier in the day Pete had demonstrated to his grandson Peter how to change a keg of Guinness and he was still chuckling at Peter’s sense of real achievement, which had reinforced his view that it didn’t take much to make children happy, just a bit of time, as long as it was done with love. Back in the taproom he’d lined up pint glasses ready for filling, shot glasses and a selection of dodgy beverages to pour into them knowing that the first sign of customers would be a dozen or more dogs arriving via the open back door of the Green Dragon. Two of Tony’s lurchers arrived first followed by a couple of dozen other dogs, mostly the shepherds’ border collies that hadn’t been able to keep up with them, at which he started pulling pints.
Once most of the local men were present Matt Levens said, “Unless I can get hold of some plasticiser for compo(23) the lads and I will have to stop laying brick in maybe three days. I’ve tried all the men here who might be expected to have some, but no luck. The lads from outside won’t be able to get into work on Monday because the road will be impassable before tomorrow evening, so what we have will last a bit longer than you’d expect, but it’s not looking good. I’ve already rung for a delivery of ten five gallon [50l, 6¼ US gal] drums to be dropped off on the other side of the water that we can row across to collect. None of the merchants have any the now, and those who are expecting a delivery next week can’t deliver for a week which takes us to next Friday or Saturday. Monday after if they’re pressed. So it looks like we’ll be off the tools(24) for maybe a week unless I ring a carrier to deliver some from down country which will cost a small fortune. I’m going to ask Elle what she wants me to do. Bite the bullet and pay the money to keep building or leave it for a few days.”
Alf telt him, “My granddad used to use Lux soap flakes as plasticiser in compo. See what Dave and Lucy have in the grocers.”
Dave seeing Matt looking at him said, “We haven’t stocked Lux flakes for years. I’m not even certain if Lux or any other brand of soap flakes are made any more. I was telt years ago that washing up detergent will do as plasticiser if you’re desperate, but that soap is better. However, I reckon Lucy will be able to help you out. All the village womenfolk drop the small bits left from bars of soap off with Lucy. She’ll have a couple of hundred weight [100Kg, 224 pounds] of it at least. She has a machine that Alf put together for her. It’s sort of like a huge liquidiser that blends the bits up so they dissolve easily in the hot water and produce a thick liquid soap, like that green soft soap(25) that used to be available.
“She’s already recovered the cost of the machine and any number of the lasses help to make the stuff, so she sells it back to ’em gey cheap. The womenfolk use it for washing woollens. The price just covers her time because the lasses use their own containers and the soap is provided by them, so she’ll sell you enough for next to nowt to keep you going even if it means the lasses have to leave their woollens unwashed for a week or so. They’ll not complain because it means likely keeping more of the youngsters here if they have somewhere to live and if it keeps their men folk in work they won’t have to put up with the complaints. I’ll go and have a word with her. She’s in the best side sampling brandy punch.” Dave disappeared, but was back a couple of minutes later and said, “No problems, Matt. If you drop a five gallon drum off at the shop tomorrow she’ll fill it sometime during the day for you. Leave your mobile number with her if she hasn’t already got it and she’ll text you when you can collect it. She said to forget the money and drop a fiver into the kids’ Christmas party collection box for her.”
Matt smiled and pulled a ten pound note from his wallet which he dropped into the box without taking any change. “Thanks, Dave. That’ll make the lads happy to know they won’t be out of collar(26) for a week, and that’s gey(27) cheap plasticiser at a tenner. Harriet Love, pull a round please and put it on my slate.”(28)
When a young girl came into the taproom carrying a pail Pete said, “Hello, Love, what are you doing in here?”
“I asked Mum what I could do to help. She said to fill the dogs’ water bowls and the kibble food bowls too, Granddad.”
“Good Lass, Brigitte. You need any help?”
“No, thank you. I’ll do the water first and fetch the food pail next. Then I’m helping Auntie Veronica in the kitchen with supper.”
Pete announced to the company, “This is Harriet’s lass, Brigitte. Where’s your brother, Pet?”
“Peter’s practising German on the computer. He wants to be able to talk to Dad. He’s found a really good site where he has to speak to it and it checks how he pronounces words. It’s got an entire dictionary on it which includes a lot of swear words too, but I don’t think he’s bothered about them, cos he just wants to be able to talk to Dad, and I don’t think using swear words would be sensible talking to Dad. Right now, he’s Zooming some of our cousins in Bavaria. Mum said only an hour a day, so when they’ve finished his German half hour, he’ll be talking in English so they can improve. I’ve decided to give up French and learn German, so I can talk to Dad and the cousins in German too.”
All the locals knew Harriet and Gustav had adopted a pair of twins who’d come from as far away down country as it was possible to be and that one of them was a trans boy. Few adults had met either of them, but they were aware the local children thought well of the pair. That Brigitte was happily helping her mum was seen as a sign of proper behaviour. That her brother was studying was similarly seen. To the men in the taproom the children were off to a good start and none doubted they would be and be seen to be Bearthwaite folk in short order.
Tommy said, “As I promised, Lads, I’ve brought the assembly instructions for our new king size bed that are written in Chinglish. I made a few notes to help you appreciate it properly that I’ll read out before I pass the destructions round. First as you can see it’s a booklet and on the front it says in big, bold, black capital letters BED which I suppose is helpful, but if you’re so thick(29) you need that there not a snowflake in hell’s chance of you being able to assemble it.” As Tommy held up the booklet for them to see the word there were snorts of laughter.
“In the box were fifty-four bits of chipboard and plywood, with a bag containing a hundred and thirty wooden dowels and seventy pieces of assorted hardware, bolts, screws and the like including a soft steel Allen key to tighten up the screws with which were all recessed hex heads. The key was too short to get any torque on, and it hurt my hand like hell trying to use it, so I chucked it in the scrap metal pail and used an an appropriate sized bit in a rattle hammer.” Seeing some puzzlement on a few faces he explained, “That’s another name for an impact driver, which is a kind of vicious version of a powered screwdriver on steroids. The booklet has a shed load of inexplicable diagrams of the ‘put bolt six into nut forty-three after passing through hole seventeen first’ type. Like I said last week any one with a bit of shape about them would have no problems, but any one who hasn’t is fucked before they start. It took me twenty minutes to open the box and strip the packaging tape off it so I could throw the cardboard on the compost and it took Sarah three quarters of an hour to burn the tape, bubble wrap and the polystyrene packing in the kitchen stove. It’s a Rayburn wood burning cooker,” he explained to the outsiders with puzzled looks on their faces.
“As to the bed itself, I suppose I should have known better. It was bloody dear for what amounted to barely adequate firewood. The slats are plywood supported in the centre by an additional two legs and some of the fastenings stripped on first assembly so trashing any chance of holding in the very soft wood without fettling the holes. The centre support for the slats is a piece of planed three and a half by one, so that’s what? Three and a quarter by three quarters? [93mm by 18mm]. Thing is it had to be installed flat, not exactly the best way for rigidity, edge vertical would have been much stiffer, but worst of all there was a knot in it that took up at least three quarters of the width. Oh without doubt I’ll sort it all out in the end, but with hindsight, which as all know is twenty twenty vision, I should have designed and built one myself using timber from the builders’ merchants where at least I could select the timber. I’ve done it before. However, I was in a hurry. As I said, I’ll fettle it, but it’ll probably end up being a very expensive bed. When I was writing the feedback I was tempted to run off at the mouth, but I was objective which wasn’t flattering. Here, Alf, you have a look and pass it on. I’ll start pulling a few pints for Pete if some of you deal with the glasses and the coin.”(30)
The laughter started immediately and as the booklet was passed round Elliot one of the outsiders who’d been attending for a few months said, “You were right, Tommy, it’s right good for a laught, but you need at least a pint to cope with it. Here’s a couple of quid for the box, Bertie, if you’ll pass that rum over please.”
By the time all had looked at the booklet most of the men had at least a pint and a glass of chemic of some sort in front of them, and most were still chuckling.
“Supper will be on the tables, Gentlemen, in about twenty minutes, so please have the tables cleared and ready.”
Chance asked, “What are we eating, Harriet?”
“Mince,(31) peas and chips. [US fries] The mince has a bit of minced beast(32) kidney in it. That was Uncle Vincent’s idea, and I thought it was worth a try. It tastes excellent with some ground black pepper, so I’ll leave some for you to use or not as you choose. As usual the mince and the peas are in the gravy and the chips will be served separately. There is rice pudding with Auntie Christine’s yellow raspberry jam to follow. The chips will be a bit of a surprise.” Before any had time to ask about the chips Harriet had gone. A number of faces turned to Gustav with questioning looks on them. Gustav just shrugged the shrug of a happily married man who knew when to ignore the vagaries of not just his wife but all other women too.
Pete laughed and said, “That shrug was the perfect example, Son, of a man saying ‘Yes, Dear,’ without moving his lips.” There was a lot of laughter at that and there wasn’t a man there local nor outsider who didn’t understand what Pete had said and furthermore they all agreed with him. Some of them may not have been Bearthwaite folk, but to find peace and enjoyment in the company of the Bearthwaite men in the taproom of the Green Dragon on a Saturday evening they had to be of at the very least a similar mindset to that of the local men and many of them had been regular Saturday evening attenders at the meetings of the Grumpy Old Men’s Society for years.
When Harriet and Veronica arrived with the supper, Pete asked, “What are those, Love?”
Harriet replied, “These are the chips. They are called Scotch scallops, Dad. I saw someone from Manchester way from the sound of her voice cooking them on Youtube, but as far as I can tell they are nowt to do with Scotland. I thought they were interesting, so tonight, Gentlemen, you are all guinea pigs.”
“What exactly are they, Love?” Pat asked.
“Slices of potatoes dipped in batter and then deep fried. Battered round chips [US fries] I suppose, so I took Uncle Alf’s advice and used Uncle Johnto’s own variety because Uncle Alf reckons they’re the best for chips. Brigitte helped me with them. We washed and scrubbed them but didn’t peel them. The woman I watched cooking them added chile powder to her batter, but I didn’t think that would go with the mince and peas, so my batter has Coleman’s mustard powder and a few chopped up green onion tops added to it instead. Just like I do with chips, I cooked them through in hot fat, took them out and turned the fryer up to maximum. They were finished off in the really hot fat for thirty seconds to brown and crisp them. If you like them I’ll maybe do them with chile powder another time, but I’ll have to think of something for them to go with, so if any has ideas about that Auntie Veronica and I shall be pleased to be telt.
As Harriet was clearing away the plates. Sasha said, “Damned fine that, Harriet Love. The kidney addition was like you said excellent with the black pepper. And those chips were tasty, but to be honest, Love, I suspect the effort you put in to make ’em wasn’t justified. However, if you dish ’em up again I’ll happily eat ’em.”
A number of the men agreed. Harriet nodded in acceptance and said, “I’ll be back in a minute with your pudding, Gentlemen.”
After fresh pints had been pulled and various bottles passed around, Dave waited for all to settle before saying, “Someone telt me last week that this country is becoming a joke as a result of the fresh fruit and vegetable shortage. I telt him that this country has long been a joke for a whole host of reasons. Tell you, it’s crazy. Supermarkets have shelves with no fresh produce on them and I saw a clip of a Parisian street market the other day somewhere near the river Seine and the stalls were overflowing with fresh fruit and vegetables of every description. A mate shewed me a map of Europe on his mobile phone with every country either blue or red, blue indicated no problems with the availability of fresh produce, red indicated severe shortages. Only mainland UK was red, even Northern Ireland along with Eire was blue. There has been some bat shit crazy stuff in the media about it just recently.
“That Henry Dimbleby, the bloke who co-founded the restaurant chain Leon, who advises ministers on a food strategy for England, said Europe wasn’t facing shortages because they didn’t have the weird supermarket culture that we’ve got in the UK. He disagreed with the environment secretary, Thérèse Coffey, who denied that the recent shortages of eggs and vegetables was a market failure. He reckoned it’s a market failure of the British food system which is why it’s not happening elsewhere, and unless something is done about it it’s going to get worse. He said the UK food system is unique and he didn’t know of anywhere else in the world where the supermarkets have fixed price contracts with producers and suppliers which meant effectively there is no market in the UK, for a market relies on prices based on supply and demand. The example he gave was lettuces. In the UK lettuce prices in supermarkets are kept stable, whether there is a shortage or a glut, meaning farmers can’t sell all their crop when they have too much, or get incentives to produce more during a shortage. If there’s bad weather across Europe, because there’s a scarcity European supermarkets have to pay more and so put their prices up – but not in the UK, and therefore UK suppliers will supply to Europe for a higher price leading to further shortages in the UK. If there is good weather and it produces a glut, European supermarkets pay less and lower their prices to sell the extra – but not in the UK, so the lettuces rot in the fields. I reckon it’s really bad for ordinary folk for they’re not able to buy cheap when stuff is readily available and preserve it. Christine said she never buys owt from supermarkets because there’s no point. If necessary she rings up contacts at wholesale markets.
“I think it was in the Guardian that I read this week that the farming minister, Mark Spencer, held a summit with large food chains but did not invite farming groups. I presume that summit was about all the empty shelves in UK supermarkets. I also read in the same article that Timothy Lang, a professor of food policy at the University of London, said he was not in the least surprised by the recent food shortages because the government did nowt because it was locked into a leave it to Tesco(33) approach to food policy. I went into the Spar shop in Wigton for a few bits and pieces the other day as I was passing, and I asked the lass on the till if they were having any trouble getting fresh produce. She said no, but pointed to some cucumbers priced at one twenty-five [US $1.50] and said a fortnight since they were fifty pence. [US 60 cents]
“Lucy shewed me the funniest thing about the situation. A picture popped up on her mobile phone of Shamima Begum. The image had been photo shopped and posted on line the day after her appeal against losing her UK citizenship was rejected. It was an old image of her at that prison camp where the Kurds are holding her. She was dressed in a black one piece marquee complete with hood holding a cardboard placard in front of her. I mind the original image from years ago on the news, but I can’t mind what was originally written on the placard. Whoever posted it had pasted over the original placard with one saying, ‘Let me back in. I have tomatoes.’ So I can’t be the only one who reckons the government is full of it. Thank god we buy all our stuff local or doubtless we’d have nowt in the shop to sell either.
“Strange isn’t it that most of the readily available fruit and vegetables in supermarkets is now foreign grown tropical and semi tropical stuff, not UK grown. It’s easier to get citrus fruit from Israel than it is to get UK grown cabbage, and I could buy Seville oranges from Spain by the container load if I’d a mind to though I bought a ton and a quarter [1250Kg, 2800 pounds] for Christine to mek marmalade with along with more or less the same amount of assorted other citrus fruits. I bought her lemons, limes, grapefruit and a raft of more exotic stuff. The lad I deal with reckons I’m easy to deal with, by which I think he means I pay my bills on time, or at least Murray does for me, so he gave me half a ton [500Kg, 1120 pounds] of stuff that wouldn’t keep long for nowt because he said he knew we would be able to put it to good use and he hated stuff just going to waste. He does that just about every time I place an order and seeing as he delivers that’s a really good deal for all of us. It does pay to deal straight because like Alf has always said a decent reputation as a trader is something no amount of money can buy you.”
There was a pause for thought and beer before Pete asked, “You reckon they should let that Begum lass back in, Dave.”
“I don’t know. I’m a grocer not a national security expert. The government aren’t disclosing their side of the argument they say for security reasons which may be a valid point of view, then again it may just be total bullshit and lies like everything else they put out. You know how it goes, you can tell when politicians are lying because their lips are moving. Whether someone like her who ran off to join IS as a Jehadi bride should be allowed back into the UK to me is irrelevant. If she is let back into the country she’ll end up in court charged with serious offences, seemingly war crimes, not just something trivial like shoplifting. I reckon if that’s actually true if she’d been tried at Nürnberg (34) she’d have been hanged, but then again I only know what I do from the media who tell even more lies than the government. Maybe I’m overly cynical, but if she does get back in chances are the bleeding heart brigade will cause any court case to be a white wash, and for sure if she gets back in just to stand trial they’ll ensure she’s never put out again. However, having said that it does seems clear that the UK government is out of step with other governments who are repatriating their similar citizens, most say to prosecute them and keep them where they can monitor their activities rather than leaving them in Syria where radicals can keep indoctrinating them and potentially make them more dangerous which doesn’t seem to be an unreasonable stance to take. What I do know is neither she nor any other idiot suffering from religion of any flavour will be welcome in Bearthwaite and will certainly not be allowed to live here, and that’s exactly as it should be. We have enough problems of our own just dealing with the powers that be over here without importing any, especially via a Muslim Bangladeshi citizen that Bangladesh refuses to allow back into the country.”
“How’s it all going with the utility company, Chance? Are we any nearer?”
“Well, Alf. To be honest to me it doesn’t seem that much has changed, but Adalheidis says that things are going well. She says she wants just a little more time before she pulls the plug on them. Her intention is to just turn the water off, and let them react. She says it’s cheaper that way and they’ll almost certainly make mistakes. I don’t know what she’s waiting for, but she describes their legal team as a bunch of talentless losers that have already made mistakes and she wants to capitalise on that. I just keep digging up archival evidence for her on anything and everything to do with the creation of Cumbrian reservoirs, most of which is well over a hundred years old and the licences to extract water from up here and pipe it away south, mostly to the Manchester area, which go back even further. I asked her what she wanted it all for and smiled and telt me I didn’t need to know because it would influence my research. Make what you will of that. Murray trusts her and she hasn’t made any mistakes yet, so I reckon I do too. Emily says once Adalheidis is in solicitor mode she’s not a very nice person, but not to worry because she’s on our side.”
Alf nodded and said, “Typical solicitor then, a demon in disguise as a thief dressed up as a little girl on her way to Sunday school. Happen she’ll do.”
Dave took a deep pull on his pint and said, “I was listening to a clever bloke on radio four the other day on that ‘After Work’ programme that interviews folk who’ve retired, and it seemed to me that we had a lot in common with his philosophy. At one point he said ‘Now I’ve retired a lot of folk ask me how I fill my days. Well, I’m really lucky because I used to be a chemical engineer and I really enjoys spending my time taking vodka, wines and beers and turning them into piss.’ ” It took a second or two for the penny to drop and for most of the men there to realise that yet again they’d been had by Dave. None were surprised, for it was what he was best known for. As the laughter faded most were shaking their heads with a look on their faces that was one of amusement tinged with just a touch of chagrin.
Alan Peabody, Veronica’s husband was an infrequent but welcomed visitor to the taproom. “What brings you out the night, Alan?” Pete asked.
“I’ve must have been working too hard recently, and Veronica must be reckoning I was tekin it out on the kids. She had a right stand up fight with me earlier and telt me I needed a bloody good drink to set me to rights. About as friendly as a stoat with a toothache she was. She said if I were sober when I came home the night she’d lock me out of the bedroom to sleep with the pigs seeing as I’ve been spending so much time with ’em recently.”
It took a while for the laughter to quieten, for all knew Veronica who cooked in the Dragon and was usually working on Saturday evenings when she cooked the supper with Harriet. Veronica was a feisty lady and they could all envisage her making the threat. They knew there weren’t many women who would regard sending a husband out to the pub to get pissed would be in the interests of marital harmony, but for sure they could accept she’d be one of them.
“What you bin spending time with the pigs for, Alan? I thought your younger lads usually dealt with ’em.”
“They do, Vincent, but we’ve had a load of sows farrow just recently, all with big litters, so we’ve been abarrowing.” Seeing the looks of puzzlement on some faces he expanded on his explanation. “Riving the nuts out of the young boars. A nutted(35) boar is called a barrow, so nutting ’em is called barrowing ’em. Like I said I’ve been abarrowing. The lads need help with that. It’s done with a razor blade and is gey quick, but the boys need shewing how to do it right. They’ve started doing the job but want me there. Next time they’ll be fine on their own. Barrows are a lot easier to handle than boars when they get up towards slaughter weight. Boars are fine if you spend a lot of time with ’em, but we don’t have the time.”
Vincent the village slaughterman and butcher said, “Aye by a body as knows what they’re doing it’s gey quick. Do ye mind auld Mac the vet. He always reckoned that with a welly boot and a razor blade he could nut a tom cat in ‘three-fufths’ of a second. I can hear his Glaswegian brogue in my mind like he were standing here along side o’ me. He’d stick its head in the boot and before the cat had time to complain it was over. I reckon it must be forty years since he died. Seeing you reminds me, you got a sow you can spare for Gerry’s granddaughter Livvy to raise?”
“Aye nay bother, Vincent. Tell her come round any time. I’ll tell the boys to pick her the best we’ve got.”
“How much do you want for it, Lad?”
“Forget it. Regard it as part of the deal when you butch a big boar for Granddad. Why are you after a piglet for her? And why not a barrow, for they make up to more weight and the meat tastes the same as a sow. There’s no boar taint to it.”
Vincent grinned and said, “I like the lass. She’s different. I slaughtered and butched her boar not long since and she watched and helped every step of the way. She’s a fair dry and adult sense of humour on her. She wants a sow so she can see the differences in butching it from a boar and wants to see what’s different when I butch for pork rather than for cured meat, and she’s chessing(36) my grandson Nicky. I don’t reckon he has any chance of getting away from her. He’s interested and if he’s got any sense he’ll close the deal as soon as possible because he’ll not find a better one.”
“What’s boar taint?” a stranger asked.
“Boar meat is affected by their testosterone which gives the meat a hint of an acrid taste. It’s fine in bacon and ham because the salt destroys the taste. It can be an issue that affects the saleability of pork. Some enjoy it, but most folk don’t these days. It’s not a major difference, but it is noticeable,” Vincent replied. “Old Alan, Alan here’s granddad, always keeps a boar for his own pork. I go down to his spot to slaughter and split the carcass and leave it all for him to deal with complete with the head and all the offal too.”
“Who the hell are the Meltzers whose names are over the door,(37) Mum?” the orange and purple haired virago demanded loudly of Gladys as she stormed into the lounge of the Dragon.
To Gladys’ and Pete’s shock Delia their estranged daughter who had left Bearthwaite under acrimonious circumstances of her own making had turned up at the Green Dragon late that Saturday evening. Her appearance was to both of them a severe shock. She not only had purple and orange hair her face was full of metallic piercings. Pete came through from the taproom followed by a number of local men to find out what was causing the disturbance and to aid in dealing with it physically if necessary. He arrived before Gladys had replied. When Delia repeated her question just as loudly Pete replied, “Quieten down, Delia, or I’ll throw you out on your arse by main force if necessary and call for Michael Graham to arrest you for causing an affray and have you locked up overnight to appear in front of a magistrate tomorrow.”
Delia knew her father wasn’t joking and that he would do just that, so sneeringly but much more quietly she said, “You haven’t changed a bit, Dad.”
“You have and not for the better.” Pete replied coldly. “Now you may not be, but I’m working and I have much better things to do than to trade insults with you. To answer your question Harriet Meltzer is your Uncle Bert’s youngest daughter, your cousin, and Gustav is her husband. Why are you here? and what do you want?”
“I’m checking up on my inheritance of course,” Delia smirked. Delia went ballistic when she discovered that her cousin and her husband were going to inherit everything, and raved about her rights. She knew her Uncle Bert had had a lot of kids but she’d never met him or any of his kids and didn’t know any of their names. She had no idea that her parents had adopted Harriet nor that she was trans and none bothered to tell her. Pete said she had no right to inherit either his or her mother’s estate under the law. She threatened to take the matter to court. Pete wished her luck and took a great deal of pleasure in telling her that even if she had rights to her parents’ estates there was little there to inherit, for most of the Dragon was actually owned by Sasha Vetrov who held the mortgages, because he had put the money up that had enabled them to buy the place and pay for the subsequent extensions. He didn’t tell her that what Harriet would inherit was the right to be the landlady and to decide who would inherit that after her.
Delia suffered a total melt down when she discovered the Green Dragon was a limited liability coöperative company that couldn’t be selt except under very restrictive conditions, which specifically excluded being selt to a brewery or hospitality company or indeed into the control of any who didn’t reside full time at Bearthwaite. That the Dragon was effectively owned by all the adult residents of the village equally as a result of the nature of the company which meant that ownership of it would never be contestable since control of the majority of the thousands of individual shares was in the hands of Beebell made her face match the colours of her hair. Beebell was what the media had called BBEL after the utility company filed their initial writ against BBEL concerning the water rights. Pete explained, “Control of the Dragon is a matter of becoming the CEO of Beebell which still does not enable sale, and day to day control is vested in whoever the board of directors of Beebell appoint to manage the matter, which currently is Chance Kerr. In turn, Chance has appointed your mother and myself to do it for him.”
Perceiving what she thought was an opportunity, Delia started asking questions about Chance. Despite Chance being married to Stephanie who was Bearthwaite born and bred, that she had no recollection of Stephanie and that Chance was not from Bearthwaite and had not lived there very long was something else that made Delia become unhinged. When she started to threaten her mother with violence Pete telt her that if she became violent he would personally beat the shit out of her and the presence of Deedee would make no difference because every man in the taproom would help him.
Gustav had telt Pete and Gladys a long time since that since he was wealthier than they he neither needed nor wanted anything unless it made the legal situation better for Harriet. Equally long ago, at a meeting with Sasha and Elle it had been decided that it would be wise to leave the shares owned by Gladys and Pete split fifty fifty between Harriet and Gustav and for Sasha to put all his shares in the Dragon immediately in to the control of the Bearthwaite Village Community Ownership Company which along with the Bearthwaite Property Developments Company subsequently became Beebell, Bearthwaite Business Enterprises Ltd. That way if anything happened to him the Dragon was safe. Sasha had originally planned on leaving his shares to Gladys and Pete, but they’d suggested leaving them to Harriet and Gustav would be better. It was Gustav who’d suggested leaving them to himself and Harriet would be fine but putting them in the control of Beebell would be best, for they would then be bombproof from outside control, and after all they could leave ownership of them to any children they may have in the future, yet still leave them in the administration of Beebell for safekeeping.
Gladys was more than tired of Delia and said, “What shares you dad and I have in the Dragon we have already left shared between Harriet and Gustav. Harriet has created an entail with her shares for her children which is like a kind of trust fund and can’t be broken under any circumstances till the children are thirty-five. The entail is managed by Beebell.” That seemed to enrage Delia even more if that were possible.
When Gustav added he had put his shares directly into the control of Beebell she lost whatever reason she had possessed on her arrival at Bearthwaite and attacked him. Gustav had been an amateur boxer since childhood. He only punched her once, which though a pulled punch naytheless stunned her and put her to the floor. Deedee who hadn’t moved because she’d been seriously intimidated by Bertie who at seven feet tall and of a massive frame towered, or perhaps loomed was a better choice of word, over her said she was going to call the police. Pete pointed and said, “The phone is there, but if you try to use it I’ll beat the shit out of you, and there will be a room full of witnesses who will swear you attacked me and I was merely defending myself. The police sergeant who will arrive will be Michael Graham who was born and reared here. He’ll just accept what he’s telt as the truth whether he believes it or not. You obviously don’t understand how it works here. You are an unwelcome outsider and we look after our own which hasn’t included Delia for a very long time. It’s your call, literally if you try to make it, but the phone is still there waiting for you, and I’m still here waiting for you too. Much against my better judgement and Delia’s mother’s too I’ll provide you with a room rather than throwing you out, but that’s only because I want to know where you are rather than having you wandering round the village causing god alone knows how much damage out of spite. I suggest you take Delia to your room and leave first thing tomorrow morning before either of you get hurt, and don’t ever bother coming back.”
Deedee sneering said to Bertie, “Despite your size and thuggish attitude, Lurch,(38) you’re no more of a man than that cunt who hit Delia are you are you? Delia said none of the men here would hit or hurt a woman. Obviously she got that wrong.”
As cold as ice Bertie replied, “No she got that right. None of we men would hit or hurt a woman, but I like Pete, Gustav and every other man here would be quite happy to beat the crap out of both of you. You’re not only not women, you’re not even human. I suggest you shut your mouth before someone puts their fist in it shortly followed by their boot when you hit the deck and do what Pete suggested. Room sixteen, Pete?” Pete nodded and Bertie said, “I’ll shew you the way.” When Deedee looked at him for help he added coldly, “You pick it up. I’m not defiling myself by touching it,” referring to Delia, and you can carry your own bags too. Deedee helped Delia to her feet and grabbing both of their bags she assisted her upstairs following Bertie.
“Well, Lads, after that bit of excitement I suggest we get the dominoes out.”
“Good idea, Pete. Partner me?” asked Denis.
As Pete put it later whilst pulling pints in between domino games, “She’s become an ugly, wide arsed, grossly obese lesbian monster with a combative and grossly offensive attitude, with an even uglier and nastier monster in tow going by the name of Deedee, which I reckon must stand for Diesel Dyke. Bertie got it right, for it’s stretching the bounds of any definition of feminity to call either of them a woman. Both of them have more metal piercing their faces than I’ve seen in many a scrapyard. I gave ’em a room for the reasons I gave, but mostly because I want to know why she arrived unannounced on the doorstep. I just don’t believe it was purely to check up on what she’d get when Gladys and I passed.”
Later that evening Gladys said in the privacy of their bedroom that Delia had the most evenly balanced and split personality she’d ever come across. She contemptuously and crudely explained, “She’s chips on both shoulders that reach down and disappear into her fanny,(39) but I’m glad she came back just so I can see what she has become. Any regrets I ever had about cutting her out of my life have completely disappeared. I don’t care what you say, Love, once she leaves here she’s never setting foot over my threshold again.”
Pete had just nodded in agreement and explained, “Whilst I still think I did the right thing by providing the pair with a room I certainly won’t be sorry when they leave.”
Gladys had a whimsical tone to her voice when she said, “I don’t think I’ve ever enjoyed telling so many lies or hearing so many lies telt in my life before. Actually I know I’ve never telt that many lies in such a short period of time in my life before.”
“How do you mean, Love?”
“Well controlling the shares isn’t the same as owning them. Beebell have control of the Dragon and as you know Harriet and Gustav have said they’ll keep it that way, but when Sasha and Elle have gone, Harriet will own virtually all of the shares and Gustav and Gloria will own the rest. The children will in their turn own them all between them, subject of course to the limitations as to what they can do with them. My guess is they’ll run the place and leave the shares in the administrative control of Beebell because that way is much safer for them, the Dragon and Bearthwaite. At least one of them will probably be on the Beebell board of directors. It’s all working out rather nicely don’t you think. You know what? I’ve just realised Delia isn’t even aware of her sister Gloria’s existence, nor that of Brigitte and Peter. She didn’t meet the children and isn’t aware they were not born to her cousin and Gustav.”
Gloria was Pete and Gladys’ nearly three year daughter. Pete replied immediately, “Well, I reckon Gloria is better off that way, the twins too. The less Delia knows about anything here the better. Brigitte filled the dogs’ water and kibble bowls tonight, fortunately Gustav was thinking on his feet and took her upstairs as soon as he realised Delia was around. As to Beebell, I’ve said it before Sasha’s a wily old fox. I know Chance and Adalheidis assisted by Murray and Emily actually set Beebell up, but at the far end of it it was Sasha’s doing. You fancy trying to give Gloria a little brother or sister, Love?”
Delia was found by Deedee the following morning dead in their bed. The police were called for, and Michael Graham with two constables arrived behind the ambulance. He ended up arresting and removing Deedee for a breech of the peace. An ambulance took Delia away to the morgue. It was subsequently discovered both Deedee’s and Delia’s bags contained class A narcotics.
Pete had been concerned as to how upset Gladys would be by Delia’s death, after all he reasoned Gladys had given birth to her and she had a history of depression associated with losing children due to several miscarriages. He was surprised rather than shocked when Gladys said in a rather bright voice, “All’s well that end’s well, Love. At least Harriet and the children won’t have to be worried about things when we’re gone. It always bothered me that Delia would come back to cause trouble. Well she did, and it got her nowhere, but at least we now know it’s literally a dead issue. The good thing is she didn’t meet Brigitte, Peter and Gloria because I’m sure she’d have done her best to upset them.”
The post mortem subsequently determined that Delia had been an opioid user for many years and that she had died from a fentanyl overdose. It was later discovered that she had died with considerable debt. Gladys surmised Delia had arrived at Bearthwaite in an attempt to obtain money, which Deedee corroborated to the police. However, her greed and anger concerning what she had clearly regarded as her rightful inheritance had meant she’d not found an appropriate time to ask for money. Pete and Gladys refused to pay her debts, nor even for her funeral, as Pete said, “Neither are anything to do with us.”
Gladys said, “Potters’ field(40) is more than good enough for the likes of her and I certainly don’t wish her remains to contaminate the site where our friends and neighbours have their last resting places. That is where my man and I shall ultimately rest, and I no more wish her as a neighbour when I have passed than I do now whilst I am alive.”
Sasha asked Pete, “How is Gladys taking it all? Is she at all bitter?”
Pete telt him, “No, possibly a touch regretful, but probably not, Sasha. She said she was glad Delia came back because seeing what she’d become killed any regrets she’d ever had.” Harriet replaced Delia in her heart and mind a long time ago. And having Gloria gave her a peace of mind she’d not had for at least a decade. Years before she finally left Delia had started treating her mother with contempt and a considerable distance had grown between them.
“And you, Pete?”
“I’m a bloke. I don’t worry about stuff I can’t do owt about, and I wouldn’t like any who didn’t treat my missus like she should be tret,(41) and I guess that included Delia, who I think had hated and despised me for a year or two before she finally upped and left. We didn’t know where she was and she never contacted us till she landed back here. Anyway the matter’s over now, and I can put my hand on my heart and say neither of us were in any way responsible for what Delia became, nor how she died. To be honest, Lad, there are more important things for us to be discussing and getting on with. Right now it’s preparing for the older kids being schooled here come September.
1. NCSG, National Child Support Group, the umbrella Social Service Group referred to elsewhere. In reality there is no official such group, though unofficial mechanisms based on the idea exist in the UK.
2. Kernowek, one of the spellings of Cornish, the language, rendered from Cornish into English.
3. Ratching, rummaging, seeking.
4.The Falkirk wheel lifts a stretch of canal carrying water vessels. The wheel raises the water and vessels by 24 metres [79ft)]. The previous 11 locks that it replaced had fallen into disuse, but when in operation it took the best part of a day for a vessel to work its way through them.
5. Richard Beeching closed 2,363 stations and 5,000 miles (8,000 km) of railway line in 1963, 55% of stations and 30% of route miles, to stop the vast losses the railways were incurring on behalf of the tax payer. Beeching was a much vilified man for doing so, and still is, but he was in a hard place. The motorway network was expanding and there was a lot of money to be made from road transport by influential folk who wanted the railways closed down as competitors. Beeching was made a Lord for his work.
6. Kit bashing is the practice of making a new scale model by using and or modifying pieces out of kits. These pieces may be added to a custom project, as here, or to another kit.
7. Scratch building is the process of building a scale model from scratch, i.e. from raw materials, rather than building it from a commercial kit, kit bashing or buying it pre assembled. Scratch building is easiest if original plans of the subject exist; however, many models have been built from photographs by measuring a known object in the photograph and extrapolating the rest of the dimensions.
8. Bit scrashing, a halfway house between kit bashing and scratch building which involves using bits of kits, either as they come out of the box or modified, when convenient and using raw materials when nothing else is available to create the desired effect.
9. Cumberland and Westmorland Convalescent Institution railway station was a terminus off the short Blitterlees branch off the Carlisle and Silloth Bay Railway, within Silloth itself. The station did not appear on standard railway maps, but it can be discerned on at least two published maps and most clearly on the 1914 25 inch OS map. The station’s sole purpose was to serve the convalescent home of the same name. Although this was the home’s formal title, it was widely referred to as “Silloth Convalescent Home”, as was the station. The station never appeared in public timetables. “Invalid Trains” to the station were run on an ad hoc basis, though for many years they commonly ran on Thursdays around 15:00, preceded by a shunter or a guard on foot, as the line to the station was a siding without signals or fencing. The unstaffed station was minimalist, consisting of a single wooden platform next to the single track. The home and station opened in 1862. One source states that the station is believed to have closed around 1928, whilst another, with local knowledge, refers to it as both mentioned in the 1937 Sectional Appendix and “open during the Second World War” In 2023 the home is still operating.
10. Stopped. Use of the past participle rather than the present participle is common in Cumbrian English.
11. The reference here is to Branston pickle® small chunks. Branston pickle had been a best seller for decades but their small chunks innovation along with their ‘smooth pickle’ had been huge commercial successes.
12. Die Büstenhalter, brassières
13. Græme, pronunciation varies with UK dialect used. In order of usage they are, Gray + emm, Gremm, Grame. IPA Greiɛm,Grɛm,Greim. Often pronounced incorrectly as Graham, IPA Gray + ham or Gray + am.
14. Zymurgy, a branch of applied chemistry that deals with fermentation processes, as in wine making or beer brewing. The word is often used to include all aspects of alcohol distillation too.
15. A’ level, Advanced level. The qualification that follow on from official school leaving age in the UK. Usually taken in three or four subjects and examined at the age of eighteen,
16. GCSE, General Certificate of Secondary Education. Examinations usually taken by 15/16 year olds in the UK.
17. PC, political correctness.
18. STEM, Science, Technology, Engineering and Mathematics.
19. LEA, Local Education Authority.
20. Burgundy Book, the Conditions of Service for School Teachers in England and Wales. It is a national agreement between the six school teacher unions and NEOST. It sets out national conditions of service for school teachers in England and Wales and is an essential reference for all maintained schools and also non-maintained schools that choose to incorporate this agreement into their teachers’ contracts of employment. The Burgundy Book’s main provisions relate to notice periods, sick leave and pay and maternity leave and pay.
21. NEOST, National Employers Organisation for School Teachers. NEOST is the statutory recognised national employer representative body for school teachers. The LGA provides the Secretariat to NEOST, which represents education authorities and other employers of school teachers in maintained schools in England and Wales.
22. LGA, Local Government Association. The body that provides NEOST with its secretariat.
23. Compo, building trade vernacular for mortar.
24. Off the tools, building trade vernacular term used in two senses. One, as here to not be able to work for reasons beyond the craftsmen’s control, as in the shortage of materials to work with referred to. Two, when a middle aged tradesman who is not a particularly skilled worker is being talked about it may be said, ‘It’s time to tek him off the tools and mek him up,’ which means to promote him to a foreman (to mek, make, him up) where he will no longer have to work as a craftsman (to tek, take, him off the tools).
25. Soft soap, a soap with a thick viscous consistency made from soap with large amounts of hartshorn, more often called spirits of ammonia these days, a mixture of ammonia, water and alcohol. Nowadays soft soap is widely sold as perfumed hand soaps and body washes dispensed from small plastic bottles with a pump action.
26. Out of collar, out of work. The expression is an old one that refers to draft horses who worked by pushing their weight on the collar they wore around their necks. To be out of collar referred to when they weren’t working.
27. Gey, very.
28. Slate, slates used to be used to record who owed what. Matt is going to pay for the drinks.
29. Thick, in UK usage thick is synonymous with stupid.
30. The coin, the money.
31. Mince, used thus refers to minced [US ground] beef.
32. Beast, in this context beef. Cattle are referred to as beasts.
33. Tesco is the largest supermarket chain in the UK with a 27% market share.
34. Nürnberg Trials. Held for the purpose of bringing Nazi war criminals to justice, the Nürnberg trials were a series of 13 trials carried out in Nürnberg, Bavaria, Germany, between 1945 and 1949. The defendants, who included Nazi Party officials and high-ranking military officers along with German industrialists, lawyers and doctors, were indicted on such charges as crimes against peace and crimes against humanity. The Nürnberg executions by hanging took place on 16 October 1946, shortly after the conclusion of the trials.
35. Nutted, castrated.
36. Chessing, chasing.
37. All premises licensed to sell alcohol in the UK are required by law to display the names of all the licensees prominently over the main entrance.
38. Lurch, a reference to Lurch the colossal character in the ‘Addams family’ TV drama.
39. Fanny in English English is a crude expression for a woman’s genitalia. As here it usually refers to the visible cleft dividing the pudendum.
40. A potter’s field, paupers’ grave or common grave is a place for the burial of unknown, unclaimed or indigent people. The term is of Biblical origin, referring to Akeldama (meaning field of blood in Aramaic), stated to have been purchased after Judas Iscariot’s suicide by the high priests of Jerusalem with the coins that had been paid to Judas for his identification of Jesus. The priests are stated to have acquired it for the burial of strangers, criminals, and the poor, the coins paid to Judas being considered blood money. Prior to Akeldama’s use as a burial ground, it had been a site where potters collected high-quality, deeply red clay for the production of ceramics, thus the name potters’ field. Matthew 27: 9-10 says, Then what was spoken by Jeremiah the prophet was fulfilled: “They took the thirty pieces of silver, the price set on him by the people of Israel, and they used them to buy the potter’s field, as the Lord commanded me.” See also Zechariah 11:12,13 and Jeremiah 19:1-13; 32:6-9.
41. Tret, treated.
Comments
another well-written chapter
Good balance of topics, humor, and closure of an unpleasant bit from the past. Glad to hear there is more on the way.
Yet another ...
Fascinating GOMT. I thoroughly enjoyed the larger section on the continuing development of Bearthwaite 's independence from the Local Administration such as the Water Company and the Local Education Authority and the soon to be Private School. The goings on of the GOMC in the Taproom of the George and Dragon is also highly entertaining.
Thank you Eolwaen for the news that there are potentially two more GOMTs to come, but additional tales will also be well received if your Muse can summon the material even if that involves an extended interval.
Brit