Skipper - Chapter Ten
View Story Details
Rating: G |
Add Review Read Reviews, Last Review 04/19/07 (1) |
Added: 04/19/2007 |
Complete: no | |
|
Synopsis: | The Christmas holiday bring a wonderful occasion for shopping, dining and being among friends and family!! Beverly receives a special surprise present and Elizabeth wonders!! |
Categories: |
Crossdressing / TV
|
Keywords: |
|
Skipper, Chapter 10 - By: Beverly Taff
While Judge Elizabeth Porter and the others were busy buying presents for
the Christmas house-warming party, Margaret, Sian and I chatted as we
added the final touches to the barn conversion.
"When you were alone with her did she say anything or allude to
anything?" I pumped Sian.
"She acknowledged that she remembered us."
"And?" I pressed.
"Well her lesbianism was the elephant in the room. Not that we made an
issue of it, in fact I think it brought her closer to us; sisters under
the skin and all that, though she did admit to being shocked to meet us
again."
"I'll bet. She went white when she first saw you. I'm surprised that
Sandie or Mrs Bodkin didn't notice."
"I think Sandie suspects something. She kept giving us long looks when
they rejoined us."
"Yeah," I added, "she said Elizabeth was pussyfooting around you."
"But did she suspect anything else," added Margaret.
"She didn't allude to anything else. Elizabeth doesn't come across as
outwardly gay so there's nothing that Sandie can get a handle on," I said
reassuringly.
"I don't know," said Margaret, "Sandie's pretty sharp."
"Well provided we don't spill the beans, and we won't!" added Sian
menacingly, "then things should go smoothly."
"Yeah, provided Elizabeth doesn't give herself away, she's pretty
demonstrative when she's fired up. She's known as hot stuff in the club
in Birmingham."
"Well Birmingham's a long way from Dorset," I finished.
"Shit!" cursed Sian.
"What?" I replied.
"Dorothy and Mandy, the dancers at the club, they're coming! Tonight."
I went cold as Margaret explained further.
"Dammit! They'll be a disaster if they find out!"
"Go on," I urged nervously.
"There are four types of communication on this planet, - telephony,
telegraphy, telepathy and tell Dot," declared Sian.
"And they'll already be on their way," I surmised gloomily
"You bet, they love a party."
"Are they really that bad?" I asked.
"They're known as Dot and Dash the Morse twins, if you want anything
broadcasted, tell them."
"Do they know Elizabeth is a judge?"
"No, nobody at the club knows except us and her sleeping partner, who
isn't coming tonight."
"So if none of us or the children call her judge or 'your honour', then
we could carry it off," I offered hopefully.
"We'll have to tell the children to call her Aunty Elizabeth."
"That should work, I'll tell the girls now."
"OK, I'll warn Elizabeth when she returns."
We managed to pull it off. Margaret and I explained to the girls that
Elizabeth was now our friend and they could call her Aunty Elizabeth,
whilst Sian got Elizabeth to one side and warned her that 'Dot and Dash'
were coming. She told us later that Elizabeth nearly decided to go home
there and then.
Fortunately, Elizabeth had splashed out on presents for the children. The
presents proved an excellent 'ice-breaker' for Elizabeth gave them to the
girls immediately after Sian had warned her about Dot and Dash.
On receipt of the 'early Christmas arrivals', the materialistic little
'angels' had fallen in love with Elizabeth immediately. 'Aunty Elizabeth'
it became from that moment onwards.
We got around the same problem with Sandie and Mrs Bodkin by explaining
that a couple of Sissy's friends sailed a bit close to the legal wind in
their business affairs, (which was true,) and it might be wise not to let
anybody know Elizabeth was a judge. This ploy also worked.
By nine o'clock the party was in full swing. Fortunately, most of the
guests were known and trusted friends who knew not to raise too much of a
ruckus or create too much noise. By midnight we were all exhausted and
several pr-booked minibuses arrived to ferry the drunken revelers home.
Those who'd traveled were staying at Sissy's hotel. Cars would be
collected the following day as and when people recovered.
At midnight, I was carrying a sleeping Jennifer across the yard in my
arms to her bedroom whilst Sandie followed with the sleeping Beatrice.
Elizabeth was a little the worse for wear and Mrs Bodkin had to help her
to her room that we had hastily prepared after Sian and Margaret had
vacated it earlier that evening. Goodnights were shouted across the yard
and eventually peace settled at about one o'clock.
The morning of Christmas Eve dawned very cold, grey and windy. If there
were no wind there would have been a hard frost but the clouds kept the
frost at bay.
'There might even be a bit of snow,' I thought.
I sat on my favourite window seat and contemplated the view. It seemed
gone forever where those white snowbound Christmases of my early
childhood. I watched a few crows and rooks battling the wind and
scratching in the fields for food. 'They wouldn't find much at this time
of year,' I thought and shivered as I tightened my peignoir around me.
'Any minute now,' I thought, 'the thunder of familiar feet would arrive'.
I slipped back into bed to savour the warmth under the duvet and waited.
Eventually, I heard a few muffled voices on the landing and then the
children burst through the door. It was nice to savour the old times with
just the two of them and me. 'Them' however, were bouncing with
excitement and keen to try out the presents that 'Aunty' Elizabeth had
bought. After a quick cuddle they disappeared and later I spotted the
four of them playing in the field. They had obviously forgone breakfast
to use the wind and fly their kites.
Within minutes, four brightly coloured trespassers contrasted brilliantly
with the grey sky as the kites dipped and swooped. The crows were not
amused and pinioned clumsily away as the stiff breeze buffeted them.
After watching the four children I finally dressed and plodded down
stairs to find the others eating breakfast. I mumbled, 'good morning' and
nodded to the grey sky outside.
"Looks as though it might snow," I said as I groped sleepily for the
coffee.
"D'you think so," asked Sandie
"Hhhmm, hard to say these days, it probably won't, global warming and all
that."
"It would be nice if it did," observed Elizabeth.
"Not if you get trapped up here. You won't be able to get home for
Christmas," I replied.
Elizabeth fell silent but I was too sleepy to notice. I simply slumped in
a chair nursing my coffee as I contemplated the cold grate. The house was
now warming up as the central heating timer clicked on but I still had a
grate full of ashes to clear and a new fire to lay for Christmas Eve.
"Will you be having another party?" asked Sandie.
"Oh yes," I nodded, "the kids would be utterly devastated if we don't
have some sort of Christmas dinner. Over the past six months, I've
discreetly established what their real mother used to do and arranged
something similar."
"So you won't be introducing any of your own little family traditions?"
asked Elizabeth.
I pulled a wry smile and frowned.
"I never had any family traditions, leastwise none that I can remember,
fortunately, Sian and Margaret have a few little traditions with Martina
and Chenille so that'll add to the festivities. It'll be a novelty for me
though."
At this stage, Mrs Bodkin interrupted.
"I can remember a few little things that their grandmother mentioned."
My eye's brightened as I perked up.
"Oh! Goody, what where they?"
She described them and I made a note. One recipe she mentioned stirred an
old and dimly recollected memory of my own and I pumped her for further
details.
"I think my mother did something like that before I was -, well you
know."
Mrs Bodkin went into more detail and described an old Devonshire variant
of the custom. I took down the details and resolved to buy the
ingredients that very morning.
Having drained the coffee pot, I called the children in and prepared them
a breakfast before telling them we were going Christmas Eve shopping.
Margaret came with us, while Sian tended the horses and she agreed to
meet us in town later for lunch in Sissy's hotel. This was a favourite
tradition for Chenille and Martina because it meant they got two
Christmas dinners and they had some quality time with their dad. Their
excitement was infectious and it spread to Jenny and Bea. Elizabeth,
Sandie and Mrs Bodkin were invited to the hotel lunch prior to going
their own ways home. I presumed everybody wanted to go home for
Christmas.
As a seaman, I knew that nearly every seaman who had a home and family
used to hope and pray his ship got him 'home for Christmas'. I assumed it
was the same for everybody else. I knew that I, as 'the man without a
family, would invariably end up keeping a 'shore watch' for the ship if
perchance we ended up in a home port over Christmas and the ship was not
working. Every man with a home to go to went home!
I smiled as I reflected it was now my turn to savour some of the
pleasures of Christmas. We wrapped warm against the cold then clambered
into the Land rover and were soon in high spirits as we bowled down the
country roads into Poole.
Every transvestite shares the 'shopping gene' with his 'sisters' and I
was no exception. Even as I indulged my own desires, it was an additional
pleasure to study Margaret and the girl's expressions and smiles of
delight as they practiced 'retail therapy'. I felt it was important for
girls to develop those skills that serve women so well until they take
their last faltering steps to the grave.
Margaret and I smiled as we watched the girls compare styles, try clothes
on, compliment each other, criticise each other, argue about what colours
suited who and generally hone those skills that would serve them so well
in adult life. Margaret and I particularly enjoyed Martina's reactions.
He was actually trembling with excitement as he sampled item after item
against his soft hairless skin. She turned to me and grinned.
"Is shopping really that good for you trannies as well?" she giggled.
"You bet it is darling!" I replied as I held up my own load of presents
and bags, "and this is my first ever proper Christmas shopping
expedition."
"Good for you girl, go for it!" encouraged Margaret as we burrowed into
some loose piles of lingerie stacked up for the pre-Christmas sale.
We spent the whole morning in the mall and it wasn't until we got outside
again that we realised it had started snowing.
"Oooh!" squealed the girls as one, "Miss Beverly, is it going to be a
white Christmas?"
I studied the snow settling on the pavements and sensed a slight unease.
It was not melting.
"Come on girls, there's just a few ingredients I have to get for that
recipe Mrs Bodkin gave me, then we can go to Sissy's for lunch."
Their excitement was mounting by the minute and they scampered off to put
their shopping in the Land rover and then wait for Margaret and me as we
picked out the list of ingredients that Mrs Bodkin had given me. Finally
Margaret and I joined them in the car park where they were enjoying a
brief snowball fight with some boys and girls from the same class as
Jenny and Chenille at school. Even at aged nine I noticed Jenny and
Chenille were already learning to flirt. Fortunately, the boys were not
yet of an age to notice the girl's interest. Fortunately they also failed
to recognise Martina in her girl's winter clothes as the same Martin in
his schoolboy's uniform. Once Martina realised she was mistaken totally
for a girl, she lost all inhibitions and pitched into the snowball fight
with his sisters on the 'girl's' side.
Eventually I called my wards to order and reluctantly they made their
farewells to the boys as we lumbered off through the snow. Martina
couldn't stop chattering excitedly as to how he had been mistaken for a
girl and he hugged his sisters tight to express his joy.
Fortunately, our Land rover was easily man enough to deal with the few
centimetres of snow, but already the dense town traffic was beginning to
falter. I reflected ruefully, that with the advent of Global warming,
Britain had long since lost the ability to deal with even the slightest
trace of snow or frost. Already, cars were slipping and skidding as they
caused traffic to back up and jam. Fortunately we just ploughed on
towards Sissy's hotel and arrived to find Sian, Elizabeth, Sandie and Mrs
Bodkin preparing the feast.
"Shouldn't you three be making your way home for Christmas?" I wondered.
"The London trains have stopped running so I'm stuck here," declared
Sandie, "the snow is drifting deeper in the new forest area so the track
is blocked between here and Southampton. In Devon the roads are already
impassable. None of us can get home."
I frowned thoughtfully.
I suppose there's a millimetres of snow on the rails in Hampshire and the
white lines can't be seen through the snow in Devon," I remarked
sarcastically.
"What will you do?" asked Margaret.
"Well Sissy's got rooms spare so we're not stranded," declared Sandie.
"We'll spend Christmas here at the hotel."
"Oh no you won't," replied Margaret. We've got plenty of room at the
cottage and masses of food. Come and spend it with us."
I noticed Elizabeth's face light up expectantly but I said nothing. Sian
confirmed the invitation so I let it stand. Sandie and Mrs Bodkin seemed
happier too and I wondered why such people should be content to spend
Christmas away from home.
'Surely they had homes to go to,' I wondered.
I thought no more about it as we gleefully sat down to lunch.
Sissy entered with her entourage of staff as she processioned the turkey
and the trimmings around the seated diners then up to the top of the
table. There she took the top seat and she played 'mine host'.
The turkey was carved up ceremoniously and a full blown traditional
Christmas dinner ensued with everybody including the staff seated around
the huge communal table.
I found myself sat next to Elizabeth and found her company surprisingly
pleasant once the meal was in full swing. I suspected that she had
deliberately chosen to sit by me but I had no objections. We chatted
about my seafaring life and how I was enjoying my unusual retirement. She
was a good listener but I suspected she was really pumping me for
information about transvestism and my chosen lifestyle. As the wine
flowed for her though, she opened up somewhat. I of course, had to remain
sober because I would be driving the Land rover back through the snow
that evening to our remote cottage.
In her cups I learned about Elizabeth's lonely lifestyle. She lived alone
as she was not married and had long since broken with her parents. She
didn't get too drunk however, and she never once intimated the nature of
her sexuality. I had to admire the woman's fortitude for she never once
got maudlin.
Despite that, I could 'listen between the lines' and determined that she
lived a somewhat lonely, isolated life and rarely socialised except in
her official capacity as a judge. She spoke of no friends and didn't name
drop, which relieved me. There's nothing so tiresome as having to listen
to somebody trying to impress you by 'name dropping' their contacts and
acquaintances. Elizabeth would have met many supposedly important people
in her capacity as a judge but fortunately her conversation tended
towards the more intellectual pursuits.
'Bit of a blue stocking,' I thought, 'but interesting nevertheless.'
Finally we got to talk about ideas and life philosophies. Then she perked
up as the conversation around the table became animated and stimulating.
By now, apart from the children, she and I were the only sober people at
the table, though Elizabeth was slightly 'pie-eyed'. For me it became
amusing to simply sit back and listen to the pearls of wisdom mixed with
the gems of crass stupidity as discussions and arguments ranged back and
forth.
Eventually, as the quality of reasoning and argument deteriorated in
direct proportion to the wine, I tired of the company and made an excuse
to check on the weather. I returned to declare that we had best be going
before the snow got any worse. It was already 15 to 30 centimetres deep
and there was no knowing what the roads would be like out of town.
Reluctantly the party broke up as Elizabeth and I made sure the children
were well prepared for the snow.
The drunken adults soon fell into drunken slumbers as we picked our way
through the pristine white landscape and the children fell silent with
awe. They had never seen snow so deep and white in England before.
Elizabeth grinned at me as she studied the children's awestruck faces.
"They'll probably never experience anything like this again. Just look at
them."
I glanced in my mirror and nodded to Elizabeth who sat silently studying
the girls.
Fortunately the roads were still passable to the Land rover and we
arrived at the cottage just as the light was beginning to fail. The
children tumbled out and immediately went to check the horses as
Elizabeth and I carried the shopping inside. Finally we prodded Margaret,
Sian, Sandie and Mrs Bodkin into reluctant wakefulness. Sian went
grumbling to check on the horses and the children then returned satisfied
that the feeding job was completed and the horses were warm and dry for
the night.
Finally we were all ensconced in the warm house and free to cock a snook
at the worst the snow could throw at us. We had plenty of food and fuel
and an evening of fun to look forward to.
Preparations for Christmas Eve had been made earlier in parallel with the
party preparations. Food was abundant and the fire was soon roaring in
the grate. The children, Elizabeth and I played scrabble as we knelt on
the rug beside the fire.
It was an enjoyable intellectual game with scores weighted by the
children's ages. Beatrice won most games whilst Martina came second.
"Nevertheless, they're bright little kids," declared Elizabeth
By nine o'clock, Elizabeth and I were stiff from kneeling and we creaked
to our feet. In the kitchen, as we prepared the supper, we chatted.
"We'll have to adjust the handicap system next tim," grinned Elizabeth,
"Jenny and Chenille seemed most put out."
"Well they can't have it their own way all the time. The smaller ones
must be allowed to win occasionally."
"Nevertheless, they're bright little kids," declared Elizabeth, "some of
their vocabulary was good."
"I could say that we try to be good parents and compensate for our
shortcomings, but that would be patronising you wouldn't it?"
"Yes," replied Elizabeth with a knowing smile.
"Can you take those in whilst I finish this?" I asked, keen to get off
the subject of parenting.
Elizabeth took the hint and we bent to the task of laying up the supper
table.
"Time for supper," I declared.
The adults squinted sleepily and declined, all declaring themselves to
still being stuffed with turkey.
"All the more trifle for us," I laughed as the children's eye widened
with delight.
They gathered around the table chattering and arguing as the trifles and
puddings soon disappeared. I caught Elizabeth watching them and her eye
glistened with, well, envy, I suppose. I smiled back at her and she
silently mouthed 'thank you'.
Eventually, little eyelids started to droop and four sleepy bodies
dragged themselves reluctantly to the stairs. Suddenly Sandie realised
that the most important part of Christmas Eve was passing her by and she
burst into life. She stopped Elizabeth and me at the bottom of the stairs
and suddenly burst into a little song about Christmas Eve arriving and
climbing the stairs to bed. The words were simple and her excitement was
infectious. The children quickly caught the words and started dancing at
the bottom of the stairs. Then as they finally learned the whole song,
Sandie led the way up to their bedroom like the Pied Piper.
I had never seen such a thing before nor had Elizabeth and we simply
gaped in delight as the children danced and sang all the way to the
bedroom and bounced eagerly into their beds.
After reassurances that Santa only came if children were sleeping we
finally got them settled and crept downstairs. Later, I found Elizabeth
sobbing softly in the utility room where she had gone to be alone. I had
missed her as we shared sherry and mince pies.
"What's wrong?" I whispered as I squeezed her heaving shoulders.
It was obvious that she had been moved by the Christmas Eve celebrations
and the children's excitement.
"This, all this, this is what's wrong."
"How?" I asked uncomprehendingly. "How can it be wrong?"
"Oh it's not wrong like that! No! It's me, my life, this is what I miss.
The children, the fun, Christmas, birthdays all that stuff, even the
ponies I miss it!"
Not knowing what to say, I fell silent. I just let my arm remain draped
over her shoulder. What could I say? I suspected it was her 'clock'
ticking but I kept my counsel. Eventually, her shoulders stopped heaving
and she recovered her composure. I took one of the girl's handkerchiefs
from the pile of clean, ironed laundry and pressed it into her hand. She
thanked me then bid me go back to the party while she repaired her
makeup.
I cautioned the others about Elizabeth's mood but did not explain the
cause. We paused in our celebrations until she re-appeared and she
finally rejoined us to share in a festive midnight drink. Then Santa
Clause arrived and we checked on the children. After the children's
presents were 'delivered' Sian Margaret and Elizabeth picked their way
through the snow across the yard to their new home in the old barn whilst
Sandi, Mr Bodkin and I retired to our regular bedrooms. Showered and
suitably dressed I briefly savoured my new silky nightclothes then I was
asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow.
I was woken long before dawn by excited squeals as four children's
trebles carried through the stone walls all around the house. They had
even opened the window and screamed across the yard to declare it to Sian
and Margaret.
"He's been here! He's been here! Mummy! Mummy! He's been here!"
I hugged myself joyously as Margaret Sian and Elizabeth scrambled through
the snow, desperate to catch the first happy scenes of the children
opening their presents. We met with Sandie and Mrs Bodkin and knocked on
the children's bedroom door.
"Can we come in?" called Sian.
"Yes, yes! He's been here! He's been here!" squealed the frenetic voices
from behind the door.
We entered to find wrapping paper scattered everywhere as four frenzied
whirlwinds bounced on the beds with excitement and waved their new
presents. When order was restored, the girls calmed down as they compared
their presents and decided what to do with them and when. Then we all
went downstairs to the tree where a mountain of parcels and packages
awaited investigation.
"Who wants to be daddy and dish out the presents?" asked Sian.
Jenny and Bea immediately turned to me and innocently declared that they
wanted 'Skipper' to play daddy.
The other adults smiled knowingly and nodded agreement. Chenille and
Martina looked puzzled until Beatrice finally let the cat out of the bag
and enlightened them. Skipper is Miss Beverly. She's been our mummy now
since the summer. The declaration did not sink immediately into Chenille
and Martina's brains but I could sense the gears turning slowly,
especially in Martina's head. I glanced nervously towards Sian and
Margaret but they smiled reassuringly and motioned me towards the
mountain of brightly packaged parcels where 'daddy' would have to dole
them out.
"What do daddies do?" I asked Mrs Bodkin.
"Just take any parcel and read out the label. Then give it to the name on
the label."
Thus enlightened, I settled by the pile and started handing out the
parcels. The idea was that 'daddy' would discreetly check the name on
each parcel and select names in turn so that each person would receive a
parcel and open it before the next person's turn. It was an easy way to
keep order and savour each wave of enjoyment as each child opened her
present. I had never experienced any such occasions in my childhood and
it was a fantastic occasion.
Finally the pile of presents had disappeared and the mountain of wrapping
paper had been stuffed into black 'bin bags'. I had deliberately kept the
pony's present until the last so that the girls could dress and take the
titbits out to their pets. As they trampled across the yard through the
snow I slumped back smiling into my favourite armchair and savoured my
brandy-laced coffee.
"Well that went rather well," I chuckled happily to Sian and Margaret as
we took a breather before preparing the main Christmas dinner. "I think
the presents seemed to please everybody. Every body got something and
everybody's happy. Let's raise a glass or two."
Sandie, Elizabeth and Mrs Bodkin joined us in the drawing room where I
poured out a round of sherries and we faced each other as I made my
toast.
"Here's to the happiest Christmas I've ever had. I don't think there's
anything else that could make me happier, how about you?"
Elizabeth declared that she was happy to share in the occasion and
toasted that, as did Sandie and Mrs Bodkin. Then there was a pregnant
pause before Sandie and Margaret exchanged smiles and put up their
glasses.
"Here's to the best present anybody could have, and especially for you
Beverly," declared Sian.
"What's that?" I asked.
"Can you not think of anything that might be really special?" giggled
Margaret.
I racked my brains but utterly failed to think of anything. The day so
far had been such a happy event and the children's smiles had been the
best present I could imagine. No, there was nothing else I could think
of.
"Gosh you're a forgetful old biddy aren't you?" scolded Sian.
"Why, what have I forgotten?" I begged nervously as I frantically tried
to remember some important item that might have been overlooked.
"Can't you remember?" demanded Margaret.
"No! No I can't what is it?"
Sandie, Elizabeth and Mrs Bodkin were now also beginning to get nervous.
"Stop teasing her," ordered Sandie as she sensed my nervousness rising.
"What is it she's forgotten?"
"Well let's raise a toast to it then," demanded Sian as she shook her
head at my hopeless forgetfulness.
Grateful to be let off the hook I agreed immediately and recharged the
glasses. Then Sian raised her glass and spoke in perfect synchrony with
Margaret. It was obvious they had rehearsed their toast.
"Ladies, let us make a toast to Chenille and Martina's new siblings."
For a moment I failed to understand then I realised with a gasp what they
were talking about.
"Oh! Oh my God! My G -, You -. You're pregnant!"
"Yes," added Margaret as she smiled.
"Oh, sorry, I thought Sian -! Then I faltered again as the dawning struck
me, "Oh my God! It's both of you. Is it?"
Sian and Margaret nodded together and I flung my arms around both of them
in ecstasy. After exhausting my arms with hugging, I relaxed and proposed
another toast.
"Another toast then, charge your glasses again, no, wait a minute, I've
got the proper stuff."
I dug out a bottle of Champagne and filled everybody's glass.
"You should use the proper champagne flutes," suggested Sandie.
"Oh to heck with that, we toasted Christmas with these so we can toast
the best Christmas present a girl could have."
"That's a bit bizarre Bev," chuckled Margaret, "you're going to be a
daddy and you say it's the best present a girl could have."
"Hey, what do I care? Genders are very blurred around here. If I want to
be a girly dad then I can."
"Oh very well then," conceded Sian.
"Hold on!" gasped Elizabeth, "are you saying that Beverly's the father?"
We all turned to face her as we realized that Elizabeth had no idea.
"Oh! Uuuhhmm, yes," stuttered Margaret "she's definitely the father. Who
else did you think it was?"
Elizabeth paused uncertainly.
"Oh, it's not important. I just thought that your friend Sissy -, you
know; >from the hotel."
"Oh no," laughed Sian, "Sissy's too far gone. Her hormones have totally
wiped out her libido. Sissy's sterile now, or at least, she couldn't
produce enough of what we needed. Beverly here is a much nicer partner.
She's a really pretty girly with a nice little thing. No, Beverly's their
dad."
"But you're lesb -, are you saying you slept with her?" demanded
Elizabeth.
"Of course," declared Margaret boldly, "wouldn't any lesbian like to
sleep with her, she's still a pretty girl despite what's under her
frock."
Elizabeth turned pale. Margaret had come pretty close to giving away
Elizabeth's secret. She hesitated as she studied my feminine curves and
backtracked. She had her back to Sandie and Mrs Bodkin, but I spotted the
interest in Elizabeth's eyes.
"Well, I suppose if you were a lesbian, yes. I suppose you might."
"Well, we did," finished Sian. "We found her delightful! So ladies -, oh;
and daddy, I offer you a toast to Beverly's approaching fatherhood and
our second children."
"To parenthood!" added Margaret.
'To parenthood', chorused everybody and we drank deep of our champagne. I
however, noticed the single tear of wetness in Elizabeth's eye and
realised she was upset by developments. She hid it well though and turned
to look out at the snow as she drained her glass and secretly dabbed her
eye. The others were too excited to notice as they decided to tell the
girls of the impending events.
"I'll go and get them," announced Mrs Bodkin as she slipped on her
wellies and stepped out across the snow-covered yard.
"If we tell them, then Martina will realise I'm really a boy," I
cautioned.
"So what," shrugged Margaret, "he knows Sissy is his daddy and he's kept
that a secret, he's perfectly used to this stuff "
"And everybody knows Sissy's a transvestite," added Sian, "they just
don't know that Sissy is their father. Nobody need know that Beverly is
the father to these." She patted her tummy affectionately and grinned at
me.
I smiled back but over Sian's shoulder I noticed Elizabeth still
concentrating on the view out of the window. Something was upsetting her
and I suspected I knew what it was.
End of Chapter Ten - To Be Continued