I wanted to take these older versions down or unpub them, but it was suggested that both should be left up side-by-side. So be aware, the story is incomplete, but will be just as soon as I can finish the new version.
This will be posted chapter by chapter at regular intervals until the whole novel has been uploaded to this site, at which point it will be published for Kindle. However, nothing of the new version will be published or posted until such time as it is complete and I've stopped picking at it.
Just thought you'd like to know.
© Nick B 2008
Edited as usual in double time by Gabi
Thanks girly
“Are you sure you want to go through with this?” Gemma asked as she sat by the side of Darryl’s bed.
“I can give you a lift to the hospital if you’d like,” he suggested carefully, obviously unsure of her reaction and who could blame him after the last episode in the hospital with Darryl’s grandmother. “They were whisking him into surgery when I left, but…”
“Thanks, Sergeant, but I’d rather make my own way there. I need to get myself together before I see him. Things were more than a little fraught the last time,” she said with a wry smile.
“Well I hope you two manage to iron things out,” he said, returning her smile as he left.
As soon as she heard the front door closing, Gemma sat down with a thud, staring into space, wondering...
Her argument with Mariella in the hospital room came flooding back–as did Darryl’s reaction. Mariella had had the audacity to think she knew what was best for Darryl even though she hadn’t so much as laid eyes on him before. However it was strange that not only did she know him, she also knew about the issues surrounding his birth. Strangest of all, he knew her too.
That argument had been an unmitigated disaster and had embarrassed her more than she’d admitted. At the time, to say she wasn’t best pleased with Mariella for having forced the issue and caused the admission of Darryl’s dual sexuality, was a gross understatement. It had always been suggested that she not tell him, at least until she was sure he could deal with the information.
Having calmed down, she was actually pleased that it was now all out in the open. It had been the cause of a lot of stress and tension over the years; causing her to wonder at various times whether or not to tell him then wondering whether he could he deal with it if she did?
It was all a big snarling mess that she had tried to keep covered up–unsuccessfully as it transpired.
In the days following Darryl’s abduction, she had had time to think things through–about their relationship and her behaviour towards him–coming to the realisation that there had always been a nagging doubt in her mind that things weren’t right for him as he was.
There was the fact that despite his growing into an apparently well-rounded and affable young man, there were things he did that she recognised as being particularly feminine; she tried to put down to the fact that there had been no father figure.
He did things exactly like she had done as a child, and although she tried to break him of those habits, these mannerisms, these ways he had–just little things in the main, just kept on popping up and the more she tried to stop them, the more often they tended to appear.
She just hoped that when she did see him at the hospital, she would be able to explain things–smooth things over and maybe even remain friends.
They were still friends, weren’t they?
A phone call later and she was heading towards the hospital, which she thought was somewhat ironic since this was the very hospital he had been abducted from a few days earlier. Fortunately, security had been tightened–considerably.
When she arrived, Darryl was still in surgery, to attempt to reconstruct as far as possible, what was left.
Apparently it did not go well.
There was a tremendous amount of damage and absolutely no chance, even after convalescence, that the organ would respond and work sexually–even though the nerves were intact. Needless to say, the conversation between her and the doctor was tense.
Afterwards, she went to see Darryl who was still suffering the after-effects of the anaesthetic and was still unconscious. Nevertheless, she sat with him for hours, just holding his hand as he slept. There was little improvement the next day or the day after, due to the medication he had been given, but on the fourth day he was looking surprisingly well–considering.
“How are you feeling?” she asked, somewhat fatuously, after she had sat on the chair beside his bed.
“Alright, I s’pose,” he replied and it didn’t sound to her as though he was particularly keen on talking.
“You’re looking well,” she added, trying to lighten the atmosphere that had suddenly plummeted. It didn’t work, for although he was now awake and able to talk; he didn’t seem inclined to.
Later she spoke to Paul’s wife, Doris–oddly enough, the one person she felt she could talk to.
“I don’t know what to do,” she said. “I really have buggered things up big time haven’t I?”
“I don’t know,” Doris replied, rubbing her chin thoughtfully. “You might just have to tell him how it is, without any bias or embellishment–like his grandmother appears to have done–and take it from there.”
It seemed amazing to Gemma how Doris seemed to be able to make the near-impossible seem so simple and she decided that maybe she’d give it a go.
Darryl was his usual, reticent self; apparently not up for conversation when she arrived, but she tried everything she could to get him to at least be reasonable.
“Listen Darryl. I know you’re not too happy with me at the moment and I guess you have every right, but if you won’t talk to me, how can I ever put things right?” she asked.
“It’s too late for that,” he replied, sourly. “Why didn’t you tell me about–well, you know?”
“Simply because I didn’t know how you’d take it. They told me not to say anything, but now you have to know.”
“So come on then,” he said, with a ‘this should be good’ look on his face.
“Look, I’m sorry I said what I did about not understanding what it was like to have a child like you. I fucked up–I admit it. I never meant it to sound the way it did,” she said. “But there were reasons and whilst certain other people don’t think what I did or have done since was right, they weren’t there and they shouldn’t be so quick to judge.”
“By that I suppose you mean Gran,” he asked, his tone accusatory.
“Yes, I do.”
She paused, fidgeting with her skirt, smoothing it out and staring at the pattern as she fidgeted some more; all the time wondering any worrying about what Darryl was going to think, but finally and after a deep breath, she continued.
“You were born at a time when unmarried mothers were frowned upon–especially mothers of the age I was then. They still are, but not nearly to the degree that they were back when you were born. Your grandfather–my father, was furious. He ranted and raved at me about bringing the family into disrepute and what I thought I was doing, as well as asking ‘what would the customer’s think?’ I suppose as a publican, he had a vested interest in creating a good impression, but even to this day I think he was being rather harsh.”
It was proving to be more difficult to tell Darryl than she had thought and she struggled inwardly as to how she was going to phrase things. Memories of her ex-army father, bearing down on her flooded back and made the whole thing feel like it had happened yesterday. She found herself wringing her hands and fidgeting even more with the hem of her skirt.
The idea that Darryl would forgive her for what she did, seemed less and less likely as she heard herself seemingly making excuses for the mistakes she had made, when she remembered that she had been as unforgiving of her child’s mistakes in the past as her father had been with hers. The recent bike accident popped into her mind to illustrate just that.
Still, she pressed on…
“I was sent away from home to have the baby–er–you and had to stay in a church run hostel, where they treated me like I was some sort of leper. When you were finally born–late as it happened, it was like Satan himself had just touched down.”
“Why?” Darryl asked, blinking at the sound of this. “Surely the church is supposed to be all ‘come on in and be forgiven’, not ‘fire and brimstone’.”
“That’s what I thought, but apparently not. They got fractious because believe it or not, as Mariella said, you were born with both male and female sex organs. We were looked upon as being freaks, but if it’s any consolation, there are more people that this kind of thing happens to than you would believe.”
“Really?”
“Yes. It’s not as rare as you’d think.”
Hopefully she had made a good start and if he felt like a freak before as she suspected he did, he would feel less so now.
“I remember when you came out of me. I was so relieved that I exclaimed ‘Great Scott!’ The doctor just held you up and said ‘I don’t know about Great Scott–more like bloomin’ great shoulders!’”
Gemma and Darryl both laughed and it seemed as if the tension was actually starting to dissipate.
“Once they had seen what was wrong with you, well, that was when I was looked upon like the bride of Satan and to them, you were his spawn, causing friction between them and I. The only thing they said could be done was for you to be “fixed”. They said it wouldn’t make things right, but it was better than nothing.
“So how did they know to make me a boy?”
“I don’t know. I was not much older than you are now at the time and the doctors seemed to know so much more than I did, so I never questioned it. Plus the fact that I was bad was being drilled into me and by the time you were born, I was just grateful for any help I was getting.
“I suppose it must have been because of your “great” shoulders that they chose to make you male. Personally I thought it was to make sure that you never made the same mistake I had as, apparently, it was impossible to tell which of your genitals were better developed and now of course, I can see that perhaps their choice was wrong.
“I was also swayed by the fact that your granddad would probably react better to the prospect of a grandson than a granddaughter and as I said, I thought the doctors knew what they were talking about.”
“And did they?” Darryl asked dubiously.
“I don’t know–probably not, thinking about it.”
“So I became a boy?”
“That’s about it. The hospital wanted shot of us as quickly as possible; something about your being “tainted”. They certainly looked down on me after you were born.
“I was completely alone and really didn’t know what to do. I didn’t think that your dad was bad–well certainly he was no angel, but he was definitely no demon. I couldn’t understand why we were being treated that way, but what choice did I have? Everything for people in my position was done through the church in those days and believe you me, had there been an alternative, I would have taken it.”
The indifference that Darryl had been treating her with up until now had pretty much gone and although she still felt uneasy about whether any forgiveness would be forthcoming, she didn’t feel that the ground she was on now was quite as shaky.
“I know it sounds awful, but until I was able to talk granddad into taking me back–admittedly, using the birth of his “grandson” as bait, you had to go into a foster home. I was devastated. I didn’t get to see you until you were nearly eighteen months old. You had grown so much and there was so much I’d missed. You had already started walking–it was awful, but at the same time such a relief to have you back,” she said, sniffing and dabbing at her eyes, trying to hold back the tears.
“I know that things haven’t been wonderful between us, but I don’t quite know how to react around you on occasion. Sometimes I’ve seen a girlish boy and have fought hard to try and break you of those habits and then other times I see a boyish girl and it’s just not the easiest thing to accept.”
“You should see it from this side,” Darryl quipped with a grin.
“I know things haven’t been perfect between us, but I was just so scared that Mariella would come along and take you away from me again. I hope you can forgive me.”
She started to cry and it wasn’t to garner sympathy either. So much tension and relief was released that she cried more than she had cried since the day they had taken him away from her.
“Hey, mum, of course I forgive you. I‘d no idea things were so hard. It’s alright now,” he assured her. “I’m still here aren’t I? That won’t change.”
She looked up at him, her eyes red and her face stained with tears and makeup.
“I just wanted you to know that I wasn’t really in any position to make the choice Mariella seemed to think was so simple and straightforward. I was angry with her that she seemed to think she could pass judgement without knowing anything about the whys and wherefores… I wish I’d have told you though.”
She started to cry again and Darryl stretched out his arms, beckoning her to come to him. She stood and slid between his arms, the two of them equally tearful, hugging one another, as Gemma sank down on the bed beside him.
“So you’re not angry with me?” she asked.
“Not now. In fact, it’s me who feels that I misjudged the situation.”
“You have no idea how happy that makes me. I really thought I’d lost you again.”
“You can’t get rid of me that easily,” he replied with a wry grin.
They sat together for some time, Gemma turning over in her mind the events of the last few weeks and the reliving of that very testing time when Darryl was born. They had come a long way since then and she realised that maybe she had been taking out the frustration of trying to hold all that information inside on him.
Right now, she just hoped that there was a chance of a fresh start; a chance for them to get to know one another again now that those secrets had been shared.
It was the most tearful they had been and for Gemma, it felt good. Not because she had made him cry, but because she felt closer to him now than she had ever done before.
“Don’t forget, mum, the psychiatrist needs to see us tomorrow.”
“I’ll be here,” she said, smiling and with a little wave of her fingers, she closed the door quietly behind her.
“It’ll be alright,” she assured her child, giving his hand a squeeze, even though Darryl could sense she had no idea how it was going to pan out.
“I know, but I can’t help being a bit scared,” he replied. She just smiled and gave his hand another squeeze.
The psychiatrist didn’t appear to be any older than Darryl’s mother–mid to late thirties was all. He was of medium height and build and appeared severely preoccupied.
“Good morning Darren. My name’s Doctor Taylor.”
“Mine’s Darryl,” replied Darryl taking an instant dislike to the man.
“So, Darren, how are you feeling?”
“It’s Darryl–with a “Y”.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. Darryl–right.” He scribbled something on his clipboard and looked up, smiling with an insincere, fake smile. “So how are you?”
“How do you think?” Darryl responded.
“I’m not here to think, Darren.”
“Darryl.”
“Sorry?”
“It’s Darryl, not Darren.”
“Yes, yes, of course.”
“You say that, but I can tell you’re not really paying attention. If you have something more pressing to be getting on with, I suggest you go and do that, then come back when you can give me your full attention.”
The psychiatrist’s eyebrows shot up at about mach two while Gemma tried, almost successfully, to stifle a laugh, disguising the resultant snort with a cough.
Darryl had been waiting a long time to use that line, just as one of his teachers had on him a couple of years before when he was preoccupied with drawing stars on his exercise book. He was extremely satisfied to see the stupid quack look like all his feathers had been ruffled.
Dr. Taylor looked to Gemma, presumably expecting help, but all he got was a shrug.
“I’m sorry, Darryl. Perhaps we should start this again,” the doctor said, obviously trying to compose himself.
“Maybe,” Darryl replied.
“I understand you’ve had a bit of an accident,” the doctor stated, immediately looking away from Darryl and at his clipboard.
“I wouldn’t call it an accident. I was stabbed several times and nearly had my genitals severed.” Darryl said to clarify.
Dr. Taylor blanched and scratched some more scrawl on his clipboard.
“I presume you have been told of the prognosis?” the doctor asked.
“I have.”
“And?”
“And nothing. I’ve been told the prognosis.” Darryl remarked, wondering just what the psychiatrist was expecting.
“What about your options?”
“I wasn’t aware that I had any. I know that it’s unlikely that my penis will ever be able to sustain an erection. My left testicle was severed and my right severely damaged. What that entails hasn’t been made apparent.”
Once again, the psychiatrist blanched and had to excuse himself.
“Was it something I said?” Darryl asked of no-one in particular and Gemma shook her head, suppressing her mirth.
A few minutes passed and Dr. Taylor returned, this time with another doctor in tow.
“Doctor Edwards,” Gemma said, standing up.
“Hello Mrs. Groves, Darryl. How are you both?”
With the pleasantries over with and having explained why he hadn’t been round sooner, the doctor went ahead and explained Darryl’s options.
“The damage to your genitalia was rather more extensive than we could successfully repair and it’s unlikely that you will be able to produce enough testosterone for your body’s needs as a male without constant supplements, neither will you be able to sustain an erection. As far as fathering a child, I don’t think it will be possible, as I fear that the remaining testis has sustained too much damage, but we won’t know that for a while. Even so, I feel confident in suggesting that we will end up removing it in due course. I’m sorry I couldn’t bring better news to the table, but in all honesty, I think I would be giving you false hopes were I to tell you otherwise.”
“So what does that make his options?” Gemma asked. “Does he have any?”
“The options aren’t great. He can remain as he is and supplement his hormone requirements with medication, but that would need to be a permanent thing,” the doctor replied.
Gemma squeezed Darryl’s hand and gave him a smile that helped to reassure him somewhat.
“The other option, of course, is to have a sex change. After reviewing your results, it appears that your body is already producing oestrogen in the same quantities as a girl of your age and frankly, I know it may be a little repugnant for you, but I think the latter option would be better suited for you,” the doctor added
“How do you feel about that, Darryl?” Doctor Taylor asked.
“I don’t know. It’s all so sudden. Is there no way I can kind of get used to the idea?” he asked.
“I don’t know about being able to put the operation off. Personally, I feel it would be better to perform surgery sooner rather than later,” the doctor stated.
“Doesn’t sound very much like an option, does it?” Darryl asked.
“I know, but believe me, it’s for the best.”
“Can I have a day or two to think about it?” Darryl asked, looking to his mum.
“A couple of days would, I think, be acceptable,” Doctor Edwards agreed. “I’d also suggest that if you want to go ahead with the other surgery, you get it done at the Nuffield Clinic in Hove. They have had some very good results and I think you would be most impressed with the outcome. In addition, they are more suitably geared up for the recuperation period afterwards as well as aftercare.”
Later that day, Ron arrived.
“Your mum has told me about your options,” he said. “How d’you feel?”
“A bit overwhelmed.” Darryl replied. “But I’m kind of coming to terms with the fact that it’s probably for the best.”
“Well, Sussex police would like to pick up the tab for the treatment at the clinic if you decide to go; a kind of thank you for your help.”
“Thanks, Ron,” Darryl replied, smiling. “You’ve been a really good friend.”
Two days later, Darryl was moved to a small private clinic on New Church Road in Hove.
“Are you sure you want to go through with this?” Gemma asked as she sat by the side of Darryl’s bed.
“I think they’re probably right that it’s for the best. I just don’t feel I have a choice in all this. It’s a bit like when I was born, isn’t it? We didn’t have any choice then either did we?”
My eternal thanks go to Gabi for editing this
Thanks Gabi
“Madam Chairperson; with all due respect, we have reason to believe that the boy was telling the truth. We have traced his steps as far back as we can and at this stage can find absolutely no contact with the suspects at all,” one of the men present said, looking at a file on the table before him.
“And what does that tell us, Allan?” the Chairperson asked, then answered her own question. “Nothing.”
“On the contrary, Madam Chairperson,” another man responded. “It tells us that he was either getting his information from someone or somewhere. Our investigation has led us to believe he was getting it from the somewhere option and is the genuine article.”
“So, Julian, where did this information come from?”
“We can’t be sure, but we have every reason to suspect that it came from exactly where he said it did.”
“Do you have a photo?” Madam Chairman asked.
Julian looked at Allan.
“No… well yes,” said Allan, quickly hunting through the leaves of paper in the file before him.
“Do you or don’t you, Allan? A simple yes or no will suffice. It’s not rocket science.”
Allan looked embarrassed. “Yes, Madam Chairperson, we do have a photo, but it’s not a good one. It was taken by a reporter outside a house behind Hove Station. It’s blurred and I don’t think a particularly good likeness.” He passed the photo along the line of people to the Chairperson.
“I’m intrigued,” she conceded, looking at the photo and turning it this way and that. “I want as much information on this boy as you can get. If he is what you suggest he is, then we need to know that we can gain his trust. Oh and your first priority is an up-to-date photo.”
Moments later, the conference room was empty, save Julian. He picked up the telephone and dialled a number.
“Hi honey, it’s me,” he said. “Yes, I’m just leaving now… I’ll be on the first train back, shouldn’t be more than a couple of hours… Yes I know it’s late, but the meeting went on longer than I anticipated… I love you too… See you soon.”
Pushing the files into his brief case and closing the flap, the man grabbed his raincoat from the coat-stand by the door and left. He took the lift to the ground floor and headed towards the exit.
“Goodnight Mr. Croft,” the security guard called after him.
“Goodnight William,” Julian responded without looking back.
“You can’t stay indoors for the rest of your life, so yes,” her mother replied as the girl squirmed on the seat, uncomfortable; her eyes darting around the small café.
The café door opened and a small bell rang with a single “ding” as a man walked in. He scanned the people quickly and when his eyes fell on the girl and her mother, he brightened noticeably, giving them a smile and a small wave as he made his way to their table.
“Hello Gemma. Thanks for coming,” he said.
“Couldn’t resist such a gracious invitation, Ron,” Gemma replied.
He turned to the young girl. “You’re looking well, Darryl. How are you getting on with the changes?”
“Not too bad thanks, Ron. I still feel very self-conscious though.” Her eyes narrowed as she looked at Ron, looking at her mum. A glance in her mum’s direction and Darryl could see that she was looking pretty much the same as the policeman. “Am I missing something here?”
Ron looked slightly bashful and Gemma smiled, probably because not everything that happened went into her daughter’s head by osmosis or however it happened. A waitress–chewing gum–tottered across to their table on a pair of heels that would have made the average stilt-walker wince.
“Can I get you any-fink?” she asked.
Ron looked the girl up and down, taking in her heavily made-up face and shook his head, trying hard to suppress the obvious mirth, lurking behind his lips.
“Just tea for me,” he replied and turned to Gemma and Darryl. “Can I get you two anything?”
“Chocolate milkshake would be nice, please,” Darryl replied.
“I’ll have coffee,” her mother announced.
“That it?” the waitress asked accusingly, scribbling on an order pad and looking disgusted at the three for not ordering at least a sandwich or the special. She tottered off in her impractical shoes that to work in must have been hellish, never mind looking ridiculous.
Once the waitress had gone, Ron looked at Darryl, taking her hand. Even though he wasn’t a particularly big man, her dainty hand was almost completely engulfed by his.
“You know, this is quite remarkable,” he began. “I can remember seeing you in the hospital bed for the first time and thinking that for some reason you didn’t seem right–too pretty? I didn’t know you then and I have to say that even in such a short period of time, you really have started to blossom.”
Darryl blushed and actually looked pleased with what Ron had told her.
“I told you,” said her mum. “But you won’t listen to me.”
“Thank you,” Darryl said. “I am getting better, but it’s not easy. People are making it harder than it already is because of that stupid newspaper article. It’s like they’re blaming me for what happened to those women–even though for a short time, I was one of them.”
“It’s all right,” Ron assured.
“No, it’s not,” she said as tears ran from her eyes. “They’re blaming mum and Paul and Doris; like they had something to do with what happened and it’s all my fault. I wish I’d never got involved.”
The policeman took both of her hands in his and smiled warmly. “You didn’t have a choice and anyway, there are plenty of people–I for one–who feel that you did more than would have been expected of anyone to help.” He passed her a serviette to wipe her face. “Anyway, no long faces. The cinema awaits.”
“Do you know what we’re going to see?” Gemma enquired.
“What would you like, Darryl?” asked the policeman.
“’Dawn of the Dead’ sounds good or ‘Enter the Dragon’. Bruce Lee’s awesome.”
“I don’t think you’re old enough for those and with me being a policeman...” he held his hand out and shrugged. “Clint Eastwood’s in Every which way but loose; what do you reckon?”
Darryl made a face. The idea of someone like Clint acting in a film with an Orang-utan was a bit far-fetched. She shrugged. “I’m easy.”
He had been used to having someone around who directed his life and now that someone had been so rudely taken out of the equation, Adrian’s life had become disastrous. He hadn’t dared to go back to the hospital to check on Ian and didn’t know whether that had been the right decision or not.
He sat on the bus, the vapour from his dinner wafting up through the newspaper it had been wrapped in–medium cod, large chips, pickled onion and a Wally, with plenty of salt and vinegar. The smell was tempting him to open his package there and then and get stuck in. The weather had turned colder and the hot package on his lap was warming him nicely. He looked down at the crudely wrapped package and something caught his eye.
An article in the newspaper, offering an apology for the story it had run the previous week about Darryl Groves being a witness to the murder of Suzie Croft. It went on to say that their information had been considered accurate at the time of printing, but had proved unreliable afterwards.
“Shit!” Adrian growled, receiving angry looks from the passengers nearby.
He got up and left the bus at the next stop.
Walking up the street, clutching his package of fried fish and chips, he wondered whether anyone had seen them doing anything; if there really had been any witness and whether anyone actually knew that he or Ian had been involved with those women.
He wasn’t sure whether his next move would be a good one, but after wolfing down his fish-dish and belching loudly, he rinsed his hands and got ready to go up to the hospital.
Ian was in bed with that many tubes coming out of him that he looked almost like a plate of spaghetti. A machine beeped incessantly in the corner.
“It’s not looking good,” the nurse informed, whispering. “He doesn’t seem to be responding to the treatment, though that’s not entirely surprising.”
“What do you mean?” Adrian demanded. “What about antibiotics and the wonders of modern medicine?”
“We don’t know everything and where human bites are concerned, sometimes antibiotics work and sometimes they don’t. Until we can find something that will work, the prognosis is not good I’m afraid. The infection was quite advanced when he was brought in. Maybe if he’d been admitted sooner…”
Adrian sat there a while, the beeping of the machine starting to feel like Chinese water torture.
Had they not been so afraid of coming here in the first place and had they not feared that they had been seen…
“It’s that bloody journalist bird’s fault, mate,” he said quietly. “She’s the one to blame for this mess. It’s time for some payback.”
He squeezed Ian’s hand gently, looking down on his friend. A tear escaped his eye and slowly rolled down his cheek.
“She ain’t getting away with this, the bitch.”
“You’re Sergeant Cummings, aren’t you?” asked the woman.
“I might be, but not today. Today’s a day off and Sergeant Cummings is on hold until tomorrow afternoon. Today, Ron is going to a movie with his friends.”
“Yes, yes of course,” the man chuckled. “Perhaps if I explained?”
Ron, the man and his friend, sat at a nearby table. They ordered a couple of coffees and got the familiar black look from the waitress for not ordering more.
“My name’s Croft. Julian Croft.”
Ron didn’t bat an eyelid, though the name did mean something.
“I suspect you know of my niece, Suzie?”
“She was your niece?”
“That’s right. I became very interested in the case when we found out that she was one of the poor women abducted by those lunatics. Needless to say, I wanted justice to be served to its fullest extent when we learnt that Suzie’s body had been found, but I guess we’ll have to leave that to you good people and the Crown Prosecution Service, won’t we?”
Julian smiled and Ron felt uncomfortable. He didn’t know why, he just did.
“Probably wise,” Ron remarked dryly.
“Yes, well,” Julian continued. “I would just like to say thank you to the boy who helped get those women away.”
“Boy?” asked Ron. “There was no boy.”
“But I understood that a young lad who claimed to have psychic abilities helped in locating those women?”
“I’m afraid you’re mistaken Mr. Croft. It was a fabrication by an over-zealous journalist and retracted the next week.”
At that point Gemma and Darryl returned from the ladies.
“And who are these lovely ladies?” Julian asked.
“This is my friend, Gemma. Gemma, this is Suzie Croft’s uncle: Julian and this is–”
“Debbie,” said Darryl stepping forward. “Gemma’s daughter. Pleased to meet you. I’m sorry about your niece.”
“I’m really sorry about Suzie,” said Ron. “But as far as the boy is concerned, I’m afraid I can’t help you.”
“Never mind. I had to ask.”
Ron shook hands with Julian, nodded politely to the woman with him and escorted Gemma and ‘Debbie’ from the café.
Outside, Ron looked at Darryl. “Debbie?” he asked.
“I know. I’m sorry, but he definitely was Suzie’s uncle, but there was something he wasn’t telling us and I didn’t want to take any chances.”
Ron shook his head. “I’m going to have to watch you, missy, aren’t I?”
© 2011 Nick B
My thanks once again to Gabi for taking the time to apply her wonderful editing talents to this piece. Thanks, Gabs.
The film turned out to be terrific fun. Having up till that point only seen Clint Eastwood in those spaghetti Westerns, ‘Kelly’s Heroes’ and ‘Where Eagles Dare’, it gave Darryl a whole new level of respect for him.
As far as her awkwardness was concerned, this wasn’t the first time she’d ventured out in a skirt or wearing makeup, but simply ‘not being new to it’ didn’t really make any difference, she still felt self-conscious. It felt to her as though everyone was scrutinising her. As the day wore on, however, her self-consciousness disappeared and by the end of the movie she felt and looked a great deal more comfortable.
As strange as it may seem, she had had prior warning that the change was going to happen and really should have been more used to the idea–but she wasn’t. She thought she was going to have time to think about it, procrastinate and ruminate over the issue and then when she felt like it, make the decision.
Nothing could have been further from the truth. However, it wasn’t the becoming a girl bit at all, it was the lack of control; the lack of being able to decide for herself or even get used to the idea. It would have been nice to maybe try it out for size and see how she felt about it.
Wearing the underwear and bra was nice–odd, but nice–especially not having any dangling bits to support, and tights–over smooth legs–felt really nice, something that she’d dreamt of doing for a long time, but never had the courage to try. Now she was getting to do it without the need for an excuse, or in the big closet as they say.
True, part of the time, she felt that jeans and a t-shirt, perhaps a bomber jacket–oh and trainers–nice, comfortable trainers–would have been better, but the feeling of the snug nylon ‘sheaths’, encasing her legs, together with the softness of her panties, that caressed a still somewhat tender and incredibly sensitive part of her anatomy… well, just felt so good.
They got home and Ron looked at the young girl, his eyebrows raised. “Debbie?” he asked.
Darryl smiled a bit ruefully. “It was a spur of the moment thing. I really like Debbie Harry and hers was the first name that popped into my head.
“I’m not sure I like it,” Gemma said with a grimace. “Sounds a bit ‘Essex’. Still, I suppose it’s marginally better than Sharon or Tracy. What I can’t understand is what’s wrong with Darryl? Darryl’s a nice name. I like Darryl.”
“There’s nothing wrong with Darryl at all, mum,” she explained, hoping to head any further distress off at the pass. “It’s just that now people are starting to put it together with the kidnapping of those women. Plus, it’s a boy’s name. I’m not much of a boy, am I?” She held her arms out and turned slowly. Clearly Gemma couldn’t argue with that.
“She’s got a point actually,” Ron said after some thought. “Maybe it would be best.”
“What?” Gemma exclaimed. “Darryl to Debbie?” Gemma stopped what she was doing and turned to stare at the policeman. “You are joking, aren’t you?”
“No, actually, I’m deadly serious.” The policeman’s expression reaffirmed that seriousness. “Maybe ‘Debbie’s’ not right–although perhaps Deborah wouldn’t be so bad–but There’s much to be said for a little bit of ‘incognito’ right now.” He tapped the side of his nose adding a knowing wink.
The trio was quiet for a few moments and Darryl knew that taking the pseudonym of ‘Debbie’ back at the café was perhaps only delaying things, but she knew Ron had a point; perhaps some more permanent changes in that direction would be a good idea. Maybe if she wasn’t Darryl anymore, then the people around her wouldn’t be in so much danger.
“We know Darryl has attracted a fair bit of attention lately, but what I want to know is how those people who turned up in the café knew I or perhaps even we would be there?”
“Now who’s getting on the conspiracy bandwagon?” Gemma asked. “Next you’ll be talking about assassins and grassy knolls. It could be pure coincidence.”
“Coincidence?” Ron asked, rhetorically. “It’s possible, but I very much doubt it. Anyway, I trust Darryl–er, Debbie,” he paused as he appeared to search for something to call her. “Anyway… so far, she hasn’t been wrong even once and that means we should pay attention. If she says he’s dodgy, then he’s dodgy. I just wish I’d kept you two out of the conversation. Those two are bound to put two and two together and then we’ll be back to square one.”
“Square one? What d’you mean? Anyway, I didn’t say he was ‘dodgy’,” Darryl corrected. “I just said that there was something he wasn’t telling us.”
“That’s dodgy, sweetheart," Ron said patiently. "If you’re right, he had an ulterior motive for starting the conversation in the first place–that’s dodgy in my book and now he’ll know I was in the café with Darryl’s–your mum and that you were the girl. Right now, we–you have the advantage, but leave things as they are and they'll catch up with you, putting us all back to square one.”
Silence descended again and Darryl–alone with her thoughts–was not comfortable. She didn’t ask for any of what was happening around her, to her or to the others, yet there it was larger than life and twice as ugly. “I’m so sorry,” she said, getting up and rushing out of the room.
Gemma looked at Ron and then tore after her her daughter, finding her locked in her bedroom with music blasting.
She knocked on the door. “Darryl? Are you alright?”
“Leave me alone.”
“I most certainly will not. I have nearly lost you twice now in the last few weeks and I will not let it happen again. Open the door,” Gemma said as she leant on the door. “Please?”
The door opened and Darryl turned straight back around and threw herself on her bed, burying her head in the pillows.
Gemma turned the music off. “What’s wrong?” she asked.
Slowly, Darryl turned over and looked through tearstained eyes at her mum.
“I don’t know. It suddenly hit me when we were in the kitchen. You were thinking how easy it was when I was just Darryl–your son. Maybe it wasn’t perfect, but the most you had to be worried about was whether I was going to fall off a bike or a skateboard. You know–boy things.
“Now you’re worried for a whole load of other reasons and I’m so scared of getting into anything just in case. I’ve spent the last few weeks in hospital being poked, prodded, cut, sewn, pricked and just about anything else you can think of and I really don’t want to go through anything like that again.
“Paul, Doris, you–you’re all being given hassle by people you don’t know and people you do–all because of me. On top of that, I’ve been kidnapped, stabbed and involved Ron, who has had to look after me on an almost full-time basis. I’ve got him into trouble and God knows I didn’t want to. You would have thought that now that’s behind us, that would be easing off, but it's not. It’s just chucked a whole new dose of badness at us.”
With that, she burst into tears again.
Ron entered as Gemma sat, holding her daughter, gently rocking back and forth.
When the sobbing stopped, Gemma checked and Darryl was sound asleep, despite how early it was. She gently lowered her to the bed, covered her over and shooed Ron out of the bedroom, closing the door behind her and hurrying after him.
“Is she alright?” he whispered.
“I think so. No real harm,” she told the worried policeman. “The doctors explained this might happen. It’s something to do with the hormones. I probably went through something similar when I was her age or younger. I can’t say I remember much about it. It feels like an eternity ago.”
“I can understand how she feels,” Ron paused, screwing his eyes up. “Well sort of anyway,” he said. “She’s been dropped straight in the deep end. What with her abilities and now this, it’s got to be damned strange to say the least.”
“You’re a good man, Ron Cummings.”
“Thanks, Gemma. I’d better go.”
“So soon?” she asked, standing close…
Julian Croft had expected Sergeant Cummings to be tight-lipped about the whole kidnap affair. His niece had after all, had her life taken from her and so far, there was no news on how the other women were. What had been said by the newspaper had been quickly retracted and it was only fair that Ron would want to keep all the other information to himself.
There were too many accounts of the young lad–Darryl–to ignore. He’d told people things that he couldn’t possibly have known, but the majority of people claiming he’d said the things he did could well have been influenced by the newspaper articles. He was going to have to get to the bottom of this by good old-fashioned legwork.
He decided to start with the hospital, since there were likely to be many that came into contact with him during his stay. At least that would verify–or not, whether the boy had the abilities he was reputed to have.
The first person he contacted was a woman named Anne, who had the bed next to Darryl when he was first in the hospital. He flashed an ID card as he introduced himself and Hayley Anderson at her front door.
“Sounds official,” she said. “You’d better come in. What did you say you wanted to know?”
She led them into the lounge. “Please, sit down. Can I get you some tea?”
“Er, no thank you. We'll try not to take up too much of your time. We’re here to ask you about hospital security. Shortly after you were discharged, there was a terrible to-do there and patients were worried that their security arrangements weren’t adequate.”
“Wouldn’t know anything about that,” she said, taking a seat on the sofa.
“I’m sure you must have heard on the news about the kidnapped women.”
“I did. What those poor women went through. It must have been awful.”
“It was,” he said, his niece’s face popping into his mind. “Do you remember Darryl?”
“Darryl? Of course I do! Yes, lovely girl, odd name though,” she told him. “What’s she got to do with that?”
“Er,” Girl? “Nothing,” he replied, a little shocked by her definition of Darryl. “I just need to ask you some questions about her.”
“Can’t see that one getting into trouble,” Anne said. “Breaking hearts, yes, but not getting into trouble. She was such a sweet thing. She was so pleased when I left her my magazines. Why do you need to know about her?”
Back at the office, Julian had been fighting with something about the three he met in the café. Alright one of them was Sergeant Cummings, but there was something about the other two. He just couldn’t put his finger on what it was that didn’t add up.
“Hayley? What was Darryl–the psychic boy’s mother’s name?”
“Just a moment,” she replied. “Ah, here it is–Gemma; Gemma Groves.”
“So that was him!” he exclaimed, slamming his fist on the table.
“Sorry?”
“The girl; the one from the café–Debbie, she called herself. She was Darryl Groves. It all makes sense, don’t you see?”
“Hello,” Said Gemma, answering the phone.
“Hi, Gemma, it’s Ron. Is Darryl still asleep?”
“Yes, she hasn’t moved since you left. Why?” There was something about Ron’s tone that worried her.
“You need to wake her up now, get some stuff together and get out of there as quickly as possible.”
“What?”
“Don’t argue, please. This isn’t the time. Just pack some bags and meet me here at the station. I’ll be waiting for you.”
“Ron, now just hold on a minute. What’s all this about?”
“It’s about Darryl’s hunch. I made a few enquiries and well, let’s just say I think it would be wise for you not to be there.”
“This is getting a little out of hand,” she scoffed. “I don’t think just because Darryl’s acted a little cautious that it means we’re in trouble.”
“Gemma,” he asked, pausing for a moment. “Do you trust me?”
She didn’t have to think. “Of course I do.”
“Well just do as I ask. Put a couple of bits and pieces into a bag and get a taxi down here.”
“You’d better have a damned good reason for this,” she said. “Okay, I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
She put the phone down and although she wouldn’t have admitted it to Ron, she was more than a little scared.
“That was Ron, wasn’t it?” Darryl asked from the doorway.
She spun round, nearly knocking the phone off the sideboard. “How did you–?” she began, but the expression on Darryl’s face meant she didn’t have to finish. "You’re dressed already, I see,” she observed.
“Yes and I’ve put some things into my hold-all too. Shall I phone for a taxi while you get your stuff together?”
Gemma was taken aback. Darryl was so calm about everything and yet just a few moments ago, she’d been crying about getting caught up in stuff that scared her; stuff that she hadn’t asked for.
“Doesn’t mean I shouldn’t be ready though, does it,” Darryl asked.
“Stop that!” Gemma chided. “Just phone the taxi company will you?” She stormed out of the kitchen and into her bedroom, muttering and pulling stuff out of this drawer and that, throwing it in a heap on the bed.
“Sorry, Mum,” Darryl said from the doorway.
Gemma looked at the pretty little thing that used to be her son, trying hard to reconcile how this came to be. “It’s alright, honey. It’s not your fault.”
“Oh, yes,” Darryl said quickly. “The taxi will be here in–”
The car horn from outside negated the need for her to complete the sentence.
“Oh, bloody hell! Ask him to wait, would you?”
Within ten minutes, the taxi pulled up outside the police station and true to his word, Ron was already waiting outside. He paid the fare and helped them with their bags. “I’m just round the corner,” he told them.
Once in his car, Gemma wanted answers.
“I asked some questions at the station about Julian Croft and you don’t want to know what I was told.”
“Why? Is he a criminal or something?” she asked.
“No, but he works for a section of MI5 or something–very ‘hush-hush’ if you know what I mean. He’s one of the top men in a department of the security forces in this country that causes people to go missing. They’re a bit like the CIA in the States–a law unto themselves and–seemingly–accountable to no-one.”
“But surely, they’re on our side aren’t they?”
“Sort of. The thing is, if they’re interested in Darryl, the chances are, you’ll never see her again.”
“Oh, now you’re really being paranoid.”
Ron said nothing as he made a right turn down towards the sea front.
“I’m not being paranoid, Gemma. I’m only too aware of what kind of things these people get up to and I’m sure you wouldn’t want Darryl mixed up in all that, would you? I know I don’t.”
Gemma looked at the policeman, her eyes boring into his head and a thin ‘almost’ smile bent the corners of her mouth ever so slightly. “I thought you lot weren’t supposed to get emotionally involved.”
“That’s medical people, but you’re probably right. I’m probably making a really big mistake getting emotionally involved with you two.”
Julian and Hayley stepped out of their car and walked across to the Groves’ front door. Julian knocked loudly. There was no reply and as he was about to knock for a second time, one of the neighbours happened to pass.
“You looking for the Groves’?” he enquired.
“We are. Are they not in?”
“They was,” the man said. “But you just missed ’em. Went off in a taxi, they did.”
“How long ago?”
“Like I said, you just missed ’em. Don’t know where they went, mind,” he said, then trundled off and left them to it.
“Shit!” Julian exclaimed. “This is starting to get on my nerves.”
Back at their office, Julian sat behind his desk and wondered what to tell the chairperson. She was a stickler for results and thus far, he’d had none. He picked up the phone.
“Hello? Yes, this is Julian Croft. Get Richard Sands here as soon as possible.”
“Do you think that’s wise, Julian?” Hayley asked.
“This is a situation that’s likely to drag on unless we do something positive–”
“Pro-activity, eh?”
“Precisely and the only way we’re likely to find the Groves kid now is by fighting fire with fire. If anyone can find him, Sands can.”
“Agreed,” she said. “But Sands isn’t exactly renowned for his–how can I put this?”
“Gentle approach?”
“Exactly. Sands rarely leaves his, er, ‘prey’ in the same condition he finds it in, does he?”
Julian thought for a moment. “We’ll have to see.”
Later, there was a knock on Julian’s office door.
“Come,” he said.
A short man, no taller than about five-five walked in. He was painfully thin and his face was drawn–almost cadaver-like. His nose was large and hooked and his deep-set eyes had a look of pure evil about them that was very nearly palpable–definitely not the sort of person you’d want to meet in a dark alley–despite his diminutive stature.
“Ah, Sands. So good of you to come,” Julian said without looking up.
The man just chuckled and Julian sat bolt upright in his chair to face the new arrival.
“Yes, and I warn you, Croft, I’m not someone who likes to be fucked about with. I do things my way, is that clear?”
Julian looked up at the man, whose eyes seemed to be glowing with a look of pure malevolence, and steepled his fingers in front of him. “I don’t care how you do the job. You can do it in a pink tutu for all the difference it will make to me. I just want it done. Is that clear?” he said and despite his assertiveness, it had little effect on Sands.
“You want the boy, right?”
“Yes and we need him–her–whatever, intact,” he paused, returning Sands’ stare. “Completely intact.”
Sands shrugged. “As you wish. I’ll need something to track him.”
“You’ll find anything pertinent to this downstairs. Take what you need.”
Sands’ thin lips appeared to bend into something that could possibly be loosely described as a smile, sending shivers up and down Julian’s back. A quick glance across the room told him that Hayley felt it too.
“Bloody hell!” she gasped. “He is alive, isn’t he?”
Julian nodded.
“Shit! And I thought The Omen was scary. Hard to believe he’s even real isn’t it?”
“Yeah,” Julian said, visibly shaken after standing his ground. “Fortunately, we only use him when it’s absolutely necessary.”
“I’m still not sure if this isn’t going a little too far,” she replied. “What if the kid can’t handle Sands?”
“Like I said. We’ll just have to see, won’t we?”
To be continued…