Whatever Happened to Charley's Aunt - Chapter 04 of 10

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charleys aunt deb.jpg
It started as a simple, if strange, request: "I want you to play the part of my great-aunt," said Charley Hawkins, the sexiest girl at Seacombe University.

It turned into a hunt for Charley's Aunt, who had disappeared almost fifty years ago.

This story is complete and will be published in ten chapters at approximately daily intervals.

Author's Note: This is a light-hearted, cross-dressing mystery story, written in my normal style, which I hope you enjoy. It does contain references to adult themes, and some of its characters have little sympathy with the Catholic Church. Please don't read if you feel this will upset you.

Whatever Happened to Charley's Aunt
by Charlotte Dickles

CHAPTER 4
EASTER SUNDAY

"Any thoughts on what you want to do, today?" GG asked.

They were in the kitchen having a leisurely breakfast. Sam had put on a bright yellow minidress, with matching high-heeled shoes, and had been feeling very conspicuous. Samantha, it seemed, had enjoyed looking conspicuous as she had a lot of bright yellow clothes.

"Not really," Sam answered. "I thought I'd leave it up to you."

"It's a nice day," GG said. "After all that rain we've had recently, it would be good to get out somewhere for a walk." He thought for a moment and said, "We could leave the car at the Smugglers Rest pub and then walk along the river bank – the river's tidal at that point and a delightful walk. Then, we return to the pub for lunch. How does that sound?"

"It sounds great," Sam said, "but I didn't know you had a car here. Do you still drive?"

"I'm still licensed to drive," GG said, "but I tend to avoid it. I got a lift here yesterday. I was suggesting we take your car, especially since you've put on one of your dresses which exactly co-ordinate with it."

For an instant, Sam was about to reply that he didn't have a car, but then he realised GG was talking about Samantha's car."

"I have a car?" he gasped.

"That's all right, isn't it?" GG asked. "You have passed your test?"

"Yes but…" Sam struggled for words, "I'm not insured, or anything. And is Samantha's… that is my car still drivable?"

"We can sort out the insurance with a phone call after breakfast," GG said. "And yes, the car is still drivable. I've always made certain that all of your things are regularly serviced, ready for when you return home."

"Right," Sam said, not wanting to ask what type of car Samantha owned.

***

charleys aunt lotus.jpgIt was a bright yellow Lotus Elan; the one with the headlamps which folded down flush with the wing when not in use. The kind of car which was beyond Sam's wildest dreams, but which a daughter of GG obviously took in her stride. GG was right that her minidress exactly matched the car. She felt so right in it; it was a shame that, still wearing her high-heels, she stalled the engine as they first set off.

"You're always doing that," GG said. "Just release the clutch more carefully.

She got it right the next time, and managed to drive to the pub, following GG's instructions, without a single accident.

***

"Lady Bottomly was telling me a little about the day I disappeared," Sam said. He had got used now to talking about Samantha as though he really was her.

They had parked the car at the Smugglers Rest and then walked along the wooded valley next to the tidal creek. After a just a few minutes' walk, Sam's ankles and legs ached like crazy, but GG had insisted they walk for what seemed like miles, but was probably more like a half mile before they turned around and retraced their steps to the pub. They'd had a delicious lunch sitting in the pub garden, overlooking the river.

GG snorted in response to Sam's statement, and said, "No doubt she told you she arrived at the house at two-forty-five."

"Yes, that's what she said," Sam said. "Was it not right?"

"Veronica Makepeace – that was Lady Bottomly's maiden name – and Christine Walters had been planning to meet up with you at our house at about three," GG said. "Immediately after lunch, you went upstairs to try on your dress. The problem was, you couldn't squeeze into it, no matter how hard you tried. Mary, your mother, came up and tried to help. Eventually, you started to get hysterical about it and Mary decided to drive into town and buy you a firm control girdle – which, incidentally was the garment you wore yesterday. Before she left home, she telephoned Veronica to give her a piece of her mind, since it was she who'd talked you into buying that dress. Mary told Veronica to come straight over and talk you out of your panic. That was at two-thirty. Veronica claims she arrived at two-forty-five, by which time, you had disappeared."

"Right," Sam said. "That's what Lady Bottomly told me."

"The problem," GG continued, "was that Christine Walters arrived at just after three. There was no sign of Veronica."

"Presumably Veronica was challenged about that?"

GG sniffed. "She said that she rang the doorbell and when you didn't answer, she assumed that, with the Lotus not being parked in front of the house where you invariably left it, you had driven across to see Christine. So Veronica did the same. When she got there, she found no car parked outside so she drove back to our house to find Christine waiting outside, and still no you."

"Where was the Lotus found?" Sam asked. "Didn't that provide a clue where she had gone?"

"The Lotus was in the garage," GG said. "Mary had made you put it there that morning, to allow more space for the guests to park when they arrived for the presentation. Mary got back from Seacombe at about half-three to find the two girls waiting on the doorstep, and that's when panic set in."

"Where were you all this time? I'd have thought you'd have been very involved in arranging my debutante presentation."

"I had a business meeting in London, first thing," GG said. "In those days, my company was called EPCC, the English Punch Card Company. I'd started out making computer card punchers and readers, but by that time, we were producing computers. We had a meeting that morning with a major client and I wanted Edward, who was in his final year at the London School of Economics, to meet everyone with a view to him joining the company as a junior partner. We had the meeting and then he and I got the twelve-thirty train from London which arrived at Seacombe at four-thirty.

"Mary was waiting at the ticket barrier to tell me you were missing. Fortunately, I had the presence of mind to ask the ticket collector whether he'd seen you. He'd been on the barrier all afternoon and knew you by sight. He was positive you hadn't got on any train. We went straight to the bus station, and that was much more difficult to ascertain, although we subsequently spoke to the drivers of the three long-distance buses which had left that afternoon, and they were pretty sure you had not been on any of them. So, we had a missing daughter; her best friends didn't know where she was; her car was in the garage; and no sign she'd gone anywhere by public transport. We went to the police and..."

His words were interrupted by Sam's phone ringing. It was Charley.

"Hi Sam," she said, "are you catching the train to Yorkshire today?"

"Hi Charley. I thought I'd get the three-thirty train and change at Birmingham. It arrives in Sheffield about ten-thirty. Incidentally, last night you forgot to give me the rest of my pay."

"Don't worry about that. I wanted to tell you that I left that tracksuit you were wearing on Friday and Saturday for you to go home in."

"But why should I need that. I brought my rucksack with me to the house, so I can change into some clothes from that."

"Dumbo. They're hardly going to fit you with those boobs and hips."

"But I'll take those off and leave them in the house."

"Oh. Didn't I tell you?"

His heart gave a sudden lurch. "Tell me what?"

"The gel we used to prevent perspiration is semi-permanent. You have to wait until a layer of your skin is shed in ten to fifteen days before you can remove the Hiplet and Bustlet. I'm sure I told you."

"What! But I was planning to meet up with my mates in Sheffield. I can't go out with them like this."

"Never mind, I expect you'll have plenty of other offers. Remember, that vagina really works. I'll give you the rest of the money when I see you next term. Bye."

And she was gone.

"What am I going to do?" Sam muttered, at the same time wondering about the feeling of elation sweeping through him.

"She tricked you?" GG had picked up most of the conversation. "And now you can't go home to see your parents and your friends?"

Sam shook his head. "My mother and brother have gone on a two week holiday to Malta, anyway. I had the offer of going with them, but I needed to get on with some course work."

"But your father is still at home?"

Sam shook his head. "Dad died three years ago of heart disease."

"I'm sorry about that," GG said. "My son, Edward, died earlier this year. It feels so wrong to outlive your children. That's why, when Charley told me about a student at her university who looked just like Samantha, I agreed to go ahead with this memorial; to once again have a daughter for a few precious hours."

But then his voice lifted. "On the other hand, it looks as though my daughter is going to have to stay with me for another two weeks. Oh dear."

"You don't mind?"

"Do you?" GG retorted with a smile.

Sam didn't have to think; he didn't even have to reply, as the huge grin which had spread across his face did that for him. "I'd love to," he said.

"Something I would like you to do, though," GG said, "is to go over your own disappearance with a toothcomb. I still desperately hope the real Samantha is alive, even though my brain tells me she would have made contact sooner or later. But I'd like you to meet with as many people as you can who were around at the time. See whether you can find out where she is or at least, what happened to her. Will you do that for me?"

Sam nodded. "I'd love to. So, why don't you continue telling me what happened on the day?"

***

"I told you we went to the police station," GG continued, "and they weren't interested. No grounds for suspicion. You would probably turn up in a few days or a few weeks. I rang the chief constable, who I personally knew, and he put a rocket under them. They came, they investigated and came up with the same answer: no suspicious circumstances."

Sam said, "Lady Bottomly didn't believe I had been abducted either."

"Then why did you disappear like that?"

Sam paused; he needed to put this carefully, "I looked around my bedroom this morning. There were no birth pills there."

GG nodded. "Mary was Catholic; she wouldn't hear of you having them. We had several rows over it but Mary was immovable. It was always a bit of a fight between us: Mary insisted you should not have sex until you were married, whilst I wanted you to take proper precautions."

"But on that day I couldn't get into the dress which had fitted perfectly a few weeks before," Sam said. "I flew into a tantrum about it. Was that unusual for me?"

GG nodded. "Yes, it was unusual for you to get upset like that. You could laugh at almost anything; you never got hysterical."

"But I did that morning."

"It crossed my mind," GG said, "that Veronica had taken you some place where you could live out your pregnancy and then give birth. Veronica vehemently denied it and we also knew Veronica was back at the house by three, which allowed only fifteen minutes for her to take you somewhere and return. She hadn't dropped you at the railway station or the bus station, so it must have been somewhere local. Why didn't you reappear in six months' time?"

"Who would the father have been?"

"You did seem quite keen on Steve Baines, and you also went out with Barry Jones. It's worth saying that at the time, I talked with Steve and Barry, as did the police, and their denials seemed genuine enough. I know they'd both tried it on with you but had failed. Steve Baines was there last night, by the way, and he seemed fascinated by you. It would be worth looking him up and speaking with him."

"After what you've just told me, I'd also like to speak to Lady Bottomly again, as well as Christine Walters. And what about that other boy you mentioned – Barry Jones?"

"Barry died a few years ago of a heart attack," GG said. "And there are quite a few others like that. I know it's possible the person involved is dead, and we'll never find the answer."

"Well, we won't know unless we try," Sam said. "Shall we drive back to the house, now, and I can get on with seeing some of these people?"

***

"Hi Samantha."

The voice had come from behind him as he got out of the Lotus, after stopping by the front door of the house. He turned to see the boy he had been sitting next to at dinner the previous evening. The boy's eyes roved freely between Sam's breasts and his thighs. Too late, he wondered whether he had pulled down his skirt after getting out of the car, and realised he probably had not. He pointedly did so now, and the boy had the grace to look embarrassed.

"Hi…" he sought for his name "...Matthew," he said. "What brings you here?"

"Is that your car?" For a few seconds, Matthew's eyes wandered away from his breasts and legs and over to the Lotus, although they quickly reverted.

"Well…" For the first time, Sam had the chance to look at him properly. In Sam's native Sheffield, Matthew's good looks would immediately have labelled him as a raging queer; but in Sam's present position, he had to admit the term handsome was rather more appropriate.

"It's as good as hers," GG broke in, "all the time she is here being my daughter."

"Right," Matthew said, with an even bigger look of adulation in his eyes. "I was wondering if you wanted to go out somewhere with me. It's a nice afternoon."

"Thanks, but…"

"She'd love you to take her to see your grandmother," GG butted in again. "She was just saying how much she would like to speak with her."

"My grandmother?" Matthew was astonished. "What do you want to see her for?"

"Samantha," GG said, "why don't you explain to Matthew on the way? After all, it's not as though your little project has to be kept secret, is it?"

"Sorry, GG," Sam said. "I don't understand. Who is Matthew's grandmother?"

"Don't you remember? Mrs Christine Thompson, of course," GG said. "Born Christine Walters."

"Oh?" Sam said. "Then Christine married Tony Thompson, one of the gang of people I used to go out with?"

"A brilliant deduction, Holmes," GG said with a chuckle.

"OK," Sam said, turning to Matthew. "Shall we go?" He gave a careless wave towards the passenger seat, recently vacated by GG, whilst trying not to let the terror which was running through him show. It was one thing to do a little dance in front of an audience, quite another to get into a sports car with a young man who clearly had lecherous ambitions, whilst wearing a skirt so short it would continually reveal his panties, and with boobs which persisted on bouncing with every lurch of the Lotus's sports car suspension. But then he took a grip. He was not Sam Dixon, a boy dressed as a girl; he was Samantha Harper, a girl with a rich daddy who was not awed by some guy from Oxford who, he noted, drooled just as much as the students from his own university.

He opened the driver's door and remembered to use one hand to pull down his skirt as he got in. But of course, the Lotus was not designed as a limousine; it was impossible to get in modestly, for which Matthew appeared to be delighted.

"You'd better tell me which way to go," Sam said, and then wondered whether his words were capable of misinterpretation. Hell, it was difficult being a girl.

Matthew directed him to turn right out of the gateway.

"That's away from Seacombe, isn't it?" Sam asked.

"That's right. She lives in Kingsford; it's only about five minutes' drive away. Why?"

They started driving along the pretty B-class road, which twisted and turned before them.

"Is this the best road to get there?"

"It's the only road," Matthew said. "Now, are you going to explain why you want to see Grandma and why you're asking these strange questions?"

"Sir George has asked me to speak to people who were around at the time his daughter disappeared; see if I can get any better idea of what happened to her."

"Some hopes after all this time."

"I don't know," Sam said. "Maybe people will feel able to say things now they couldn't say then."

"Turn left at the next junction," Matthew instructed, "and then my grandma's house is just along there on the right-hand side."

***

"Samantha and I were best friends all through school," Christine said with a smile. "It's easy to think that in the Swinging Sixties, every teenager was perpetually on drugs and having orgies, but it wasn't like that."

Christine Thompson, nee Walters, had seemed delighted that Sam had called, and had bid her to come in and have a cup of tea. But when she had learnt that Sam wanted to talk about what had happened on the day Samantha had disappeared, she had told Matthew to go and feed the hens for a while.

"But why, Grandma? I'm interested in our family history."

"Because Samantha and I need to have girl talk," she had replied, adding with a grin, "and that means no boys."

So, Matthew had gone off to feed the hens, and Mrs Thompson – call me Christine – had started her girl talk.

"The two of us were really innocent, especially Samantha. She was quite a late developer and to be honest, not particularly pretty, so she didn't have the boys making rude comments from the age of thirteen, like I did. But she certainly made up for that later on. Her body started developing when she was sixteen, and wow, did it develop. Suddenly every boy was fancying her, but she still seemed to keep her innocence. Right up until the day she disappeared, she seemed like a gawky thirteen-year-old girl in the body of a seductress.

"We were both seventeen, then, and still at the Girls' Grammar School -- which became SIGHS later on – the Girls' Independent School. Being a girls-only school meant we could mostly ignore the boys, except that I was getting to the age where I didn't want to. Then Miss Makepeace – Veronica – joined the school as a student teacher. It was a bit of a funny arrangement since she was twenty and hadn't done any proper training. Apparently she'd dropped out – or been thrown out – of the college she was at, but she was an old girl of the school, so they found her a job. She told Samantha she was giving a dinner party, and invited her to balance up the sexes. Samantha asked if she could bring me along, as well, and Veronica said she could. Suddenly, Samantha and I were part of Veronica's group; it felt very grown up.

"There were three boys, all older than us, Steve Baines, Barry Jones and Tony, who I later married. Right from the start, I thought that Tony was incredibly handsome, but he only had eyes for Veronica. He was most dis-chuffed – and of course, I was delighted – when Samantha's elder brother, Edward, also joined our group since he, too, gloated over Veronica – it was all quite sickening. It was always Tony and Edward competing for Veronica, and neither were interested in me.

"Steve and Barry often asked Samantha and me on dates, and we'd usually go out as a foursome. I sometimes went with one or other on my own, but I don't think Samantha ever did. Actually, I always felt they were both rather frustrated with Samantha because her body was very sexy and she always seemed very friendly, but she never let it go further than that."

Seeing the twinkle in Sam's eyes, she added, "OK, I was rather more understanding of boys' needs, although I remained a virgin for ages, until the night of the orgy with Steve, Barry and Tony."

"You had an orgy?" Sam couldn't keep the surprise – almost shock – out of his voice. Here was this elderly lady confessing not just to having sex, but having an orgy!

She laughed at Sam's expression. "Don't you dare tell Matt. He'd never be able to look me in the eye again. The important point was that Samantha wasn't there when we had our orgy. Afterwards – well Tony had hardly noticed me before and suddenly he couldn't get enough of me. So Tony and I became an item, and I didn't see as much of Samantha after that, but I presumed she was still a virgin right up to the time she disappeared. Then, of course, all kinds of theories were going around."

"So what was your favourite theory?" Sam asked.

"Her mother thought she'd been abducted," Christine said, "but I think that was more because she was a Catholic and reluctant to consider the more likely option that she was pregnant. What I thought…" She paused for a second – for effect rather than anything else, Sam felt. "What I thought was that Veronica had whizzed her off to a back-street abortionist - abortion was illegal in those days. Veronica was missing, you know, for about fifteen minutes just after Samantha's mother had gone off to the shops. Veronica gave some cock and bull story about going round to my house, but we'd have met her on the way, if that was the case, as my dad was driving me over there."

"If she had an abortion," Sam asked, "why didn't she come home afterwards?"

"She died, of course," Christine said. "The abortionists had to get rid of her body, so they probably got one of the local fishermen to drop a weighted sack out at sea."

It seemed a bit far-fetched to Sam, so he decided to try a new tack. "If she was pregnant, who do you think the father was?"

For the first time, Christine looked almost shifty. "Oh, that would be telling."

"Do you think it was Steve or Barry?"

Christine's face relaxed a little and she said, "They both denied it, and I kind of believed them. For one thing, if one of them had succeeded with Samantha three months earlier, they'd have been different towards her. No, I'm quite certain they hadn't had sex with her."

"Then who else could it have been?" Sam asked.

"All I'm saying," Christine said, the shifty look returning to her face, "is that she and her father always seemed very close."

"Sir George?" Sam couldn't believe his ears. "But he loved his daughter. He'd never do that."

"Fifty years ago, it was unthinkable, but now we know it happens all the time. There was always something creepy about the way he doted on her. Men didn't do that in those days."

"It doesn't make him a paedophile, though," Sam said.

"Has he tried it on with you, yet?"

"No."

"It's only because he's old and past it. You mark my words. It was his baby."

***

"Well, who'd have thought it," Matthew said after they had set off from the house, "my grandma having an orgy with three blokes, including that randy old sod, Steve Baines."

"You were listening in," Sam accused.

"Course I was," he amicably agreed. "Girl talk, my foot. Anyway, I wanted to find out what Grandma knew about Samantha's disappearance." He chuckled. "Local fishermen dropping a weighted sack into the sea – I think she's losing her marbles."

"It sounded like she'd always believed that," Sam said. "Given there was no record of Samantha travelling away from the area, it's at least worth considering."

"There are buses and trains," Matthew pointed out.

"Sir George checked those straightaway," Sam said, and went on to tell him about the events on that afternoon, half a century before.

"It's a shame," Matthew said when she had finished, "that Sir George has an alibi with his son, otherwise we'd be able to point the finger clearly at him."

"I don't believe Sir George would do that," Sam said.

"You have to keep an open mind," Matthew said. "I was listening in on your conversation with Lady Bottomly last night," Matthew added. "She was dropping hints about Sir George being a pervert. I bet she thought he'd put his daughter up the duff."

"She thought Samantha had gone off with a boyfriend," Sam said.

"Presumably, Sir George hasn't tried anything on with you, yet?"

"No he has not," Sam crossly said. "He wouldn't do that. You've got it all wrong."

"You don't understand men," Matthew said. "Any man will try it on with any fanciable woman, regardless of who it is."

Sam sniffed, but his scorn was rather undone as a lorry driver whistled down at him from his cab as they waited at a roundabout. Sam couldn't help grinning. If only he and Matthew knew what was beneath.

"See what I mean?" Matthew said. "By the way, I assume you were intending to come into Seacombe with me?"

"What?" Sam suddenly realised he'd been driving without noticing where he was going.

Matthew laughed at her surprise. "We can have a walk around and I'll show you the sights of Seacombe."

Sam was about to refuse, but then he thought, why not? "OK," he said. "I guess you deserve that for taking me over to see your grandma."

"Great," Matthew said, grinning without embarrassment down at her thighs, where her matching yellow panties were on full display.

***

As soon as they had parked, Sam rang GG and made certain he was all right if he didn't return straightaway. "I could buy some food whilst I'm here for dinner and bring it back," she said.

"Don't worry about that," GG said. "I've had the freezer stocked with convenience meals. I'm perfectly capable of microwaving something. Stay out and have fun with a boy, like you always used to."

As Sam terminated the call, he realised from the grin on Matthew's face, that he'd overheard GG's words.

Sam had only rarely been into Seacombe since arriving at the university the previous autumn; it had never impressed him as a place to go, other than to buy stuff not available on the university campus. But that day, it seemed so much more fun, seeing it with Matt. Nothing funny about that, he told himself. It's only like having a good mate who you go around with; except that this mate kept giving him sidelong looks, and occasionally taking his hand and tugging him over to see things. "This is Seacombe's oldest building", or, "This the coaching inn where the stage coach used to arrive and depart." And maybe he'd slip an arm around Sam's shoulder; sure it was a bit funny, but in a way it was nice and, since he was acting the part of a girl, it was perfectly all right to behave as any girl would.

"Why don't we stop and have tea, somewhere," Matt suggested. "Then since you don't have to get back, we could have something to eat later on. How does that sound?"

"I haven't got any money on me," Sam realised with a jolt.

Matt laughed. "Then it's on me, as long as you don't want to go anywhere posh. The Grand Hotel is definitely out."

Sam smiled. It was nice having a friend like Matt. "Thanks," he said. "I'd like that."

***

"It's Samantha, isn't it? Or do you have another name?"

Sam turned to face the voice which had come from behind him. He vaguely recognised one of the older women from the previous evening as another of the 'girls' who'd been presented to Lady Bottomly.

"Samantha is fine," he said. "I know you were at the presentation last night but I'm afraid I don't remember your name."

"It's Doreen," she said. "Doreen McCallum." She gesticulated to the family besides her. "This is my son, Bruce, who presented me last night, Rebecca his wife, and my lovely grandchildren."

She rattled off their names so fast that neither Sam nor Matt could take them in, but they smiled and made appropriate greetings.

"You're clearly related to the original Samantha," Doreen continued. "What branch of the family are you from?"

Sam shook his head. "I'm not," he said. "But Sir George's great-granddaughter, Charley, recognised the similarity between me and Samantha's painting. Hence my involvement last night."

"From your dress today, you're clearly continuing in the part of my friend of fifty years ago."

"I was intending to go home this afternoon, but the holiday plans fell through, and Sir George was more than happy for me to continue in my role. He wants me to find out what happened to his daughter."

Doreen snorted. "That's just like him. It's common knowledge what happened to her and he still won't accept it."

"When you say common knowledge..." Sam ventured.

"Why, she was arrested as a spy, of course."

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