Dot and Sam 39

Dorothy Philpot. Landlady of The Harbour Light pub
Sam Philpot. Drag-queen and lifelong companion of Dot’s.
Billy Parkins Doorkeeper.
Jessica Merlot The town’ and county archaeologist.
Josephine MacDonald The town and county archivist.
Richard Drummond Town planning inspector
Robert Vincent. Junior planning inspector.
Georgina. (Georgie) Homeless Transgender girl previously known as George.
Bobby Gay boy on the school bus.
Marty Girl on the school bus. (She becomes Georgie’s best friend and lover)
Jack. Marty’s twin brother (Keen runner).
Trevor Aitkins, Georgie’s Biological father.
Lucinda Aitkins Georgie’s biological mother
Terence Georgie’s step-dad
Peter Terence’s homophobic son.
Allison. Old school friend of Trevor & Retired Solicitor
Fred Allison’s husband
Elizabeth Aitkins (Beth) Georgie’s younger biological sister. Later proves to be sympathetic to her ‘sister’.
Jonathon Aitkins (Johnny) Georgie’s younger biological brother.
Rosie the Rivetter Terf Gang Leader on campus.

Chapter 39

Eventually I was invited into the interview room and sat opposite the policewoman and the inspector.
At their request I opened my phone, and they downloaded the images to their computers with a bigger screen. Then as I described what I’d seen and more importantly, remembered; they took my phone-chip and returned halfway through the interview. I was describing how I had scrapped the leaves with my foot to hide the knife where it had fallen.

“So why didn’t you just hand the knife to one of the police?” The inspector asked.

I scoffed and riposted.

“Have you seen the pandemonium that was kicking off? There wasn’t a copper in sight who wasn’t struggling to grab or hold somebody. People trying to get away, people pitching in with fists, people just watching. I was nearly knocked off my perch twice.”

“But you saw the knife land - amidst the shrubs.”

“Not exactly. I did not see the knife passing my shoulder but when it struck the tree just behind me, I heard it clatter as it hit the tree then, when I turned to follow the sound, I saw the shining blade lying under the bush. It was pure chance; I had a grandstand view from standing on the park seat. When I clambered down off the seat, I saw that the blade had blood on it, so I decided that I wasn’t going to compromise myself with fingerprints and stuff; so, I covered it with leaves.”

As the inspector thumbed my phone, he selected a page a couple of days old then looked at me.

“What’s this about Macavity?”

“I just grinned and let go a chuckle.”

“Oooh that? That’s Macavity the cat, you know; in the poem by TS Eliot.”

“Go on,” he eyed me suspiciously.

“Well, I heard some of the TERFs going on about it when I came home from Manchester. They were quoting stuff from the poem and when I heard them, I looked it up. I never got around to deleting it.

It’s funny if you remember that the police were talking about a ‘Mister Big.’ You know that Agent Provocateur thing before the Saturday Protest March. Did you ever catch anybody?”

The inspector wagged his head and shrugged dismissively, whereby I got the impression they weren’t attaching much weight to the idea. He dropped the subject and continued asking me for any more details.

“Did you see who threw the knife away?” He asked.

“No, but my phone might have something. I think, by that time, the original guy was on the ground under the bodyguards. So, it must have been somebody else who picked it up and threw it in my direction.”

The inspector nodded sagaciously as he opined.

“That might have been an accomplice. It’s a good job you covered the knife; go on.”

I continued telling everything I could recall until finally, they wrapped up the interview. As we left the interview room, I asked again half-jokingly.

“So, what about my extra cream cake and the shoes. I’m still bare-foot you know.”

The inspector glanced down under the table, shook his head in amusement, and instructed the policewoman to take me shopping. She grinned as they collected some ‘crime-scene’ slippers before she took me to ‘New Look’ in a police car. By early evening I was wearing new trainers on the tube going back to University Hall

Naturally, Marty was ears agog when she learned I had seen the scuffles, and, more importantly, the fight. It had made the national news because of all the troubles on the protest march the previous Saturday.

“What were you doing there? I thought you were sick and tired of all that.” She asked.

“I didn’t go there intentionally. I was walking through the park, clearing my head, when I noticed the people on speaker’s corner. It was idle curiosity that drew me to the speaker’s area and even then, I was just listening to various speakers.”

“And I suppose you just happened to be there when it all took off.” Marty scoffed disbelievingly.

“Yes! That’s exactly how it was.” I protested. “I had no intentions of getting involved and I didn’t until the knife thing.”

“Oh yeah. Tell that to the Marines!”

I shrugged my shoulders and gave up trying to convince her as we made our way to the refectory.

As we stood in the queue Marty wanted to talk more about what I’d seen but I ‘shushed’ her.

“Not here Marty.” I whispered. “If people hear that I witnessed the attack, it might get back to the attacker or his mates and they might come looking.”

She understood my concerns and fell silent as we chose our food from the buffet. Then we chose our table and spoke of other things after I had promised Marty I’d tell her when we were back in our room. Later as we cwtched on our bed I told her about the attack and the police interview.

“That inspector’s right,” Marty opined, “you really ought to keep your identity secret.”

“Well bear that in mind,” I cautioned her, “and let’s not speak of it again.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

To give Marty credit, we never spoke of it again and even when I got a court summons to appear as a witness, she agreed not to mention it to anybody.

She did, however, sit in the public gallery when I was called.

Fortunately, the police and the court allowed me to remain anonymous. Mainly because my main evidence had appeared on their blown-up images of the knife flying past my shoulder and clattering against the tree. The fact that I had also videoed my foot scooping the leaves together over the knife had convinced the judge that I already had concerns about my anonymity even as I covered the knife.

I had to explain my actions and my concerns but the fact that I had pre-empted my concerns by hiding the knife under the leaves, had been enough to convince the judge that my fears were real. As far as the police were concerned, the image of the knife being thrown from the scuffle by an arm and sleeve that had been subsequently recognised on my brief video image, was satisfaction enough for them.

I was released by the judge earlier than I had anticipated and warned not to discuss the evidence even as she thanked me. I stepped down from the witness box to the police cells under the courts. They then gave me a lift to a place of my choice to maintain my anonymity and I eventually met up again with Marty for a cup of coffee.

“They treated you with kid gloves don’t you think?” Marty observed.

“It was an attempted murder case Babes, the guy who blocked the attacker was stabbed in the chest and nearly died. I didn’t know about that bit until the prosecuting counsel told me. That and the political connotations made it quite serious. The attacker just got cuts to his back and shoulder.”

“So, it truly is ‘Mum’s the word’.” Marty observed.

“You’d berra’ believe it!” I cautioned her. “The last thing I want is a gang of religious nutters going after me. It’s bad enough that the TERFs are still sniffing for my blood.”

“So, d’ you think the TERFs are still out to get you?” Marty asked.

I shrugged.

“I think Rosie the Rivetter has called it a day but who knows. There could still be others out there. As I said, anonymity is my best friend,”

We finished our coffee and took the tube back to the National Science Museum because there was an exhibition I hoped to catch before the museum closed.

That evening we deliberately loitered around the Student’s Union Bar listening to whatever gossip we could gather, but it seemed the interest was more centred on the attack and the religious ramifications from the protest march. Neither Marty nor I heard any mention of the arrest and that calmed our fears. Sleep came easier than I had anticipated that night.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

For the remainder of that term, we were preoccupied with exams, and we hardly stepped off campus as we rotated between libraries, examination halls, refectories, and bed.

Finally, the summer holidays arrived, and we slipped easily into our usual routines of working at ‘The Harbour Light,’ waitressing, bar-tending and doing various other jobs around the tidal basin. Eventually as the summer holiday peak waned, Marty and I treated ourselves to a month just touring Spain and Portugal, mainly for Marty to improve her Spanish.

It was a pure relief to be able to stop wherever we wished and spend a day or two in some pretty Spanish village or town and savour the whole easy-going atmosphere of Spanish Siestas while poking into pretty little churches or exploring narrow cobbled streets.

By the time the Michaelmas term had come around, we were ready to re-enter the academic fray.
This time Dot and Sam accompanied us to London because they wanted to visit a catering exhibition at the Earl’s Court Exhibition centre. Sam, and I attached ourselves to their party out of pure curiosity but I had already decided that full-time land-lording and catering were not the way I wanted to go.

However, it was my hope to find a job in the area and live in the Harbour Light using it as my home. If this meant helping out at the pub regularly, I was sure Dot, Sam and I could reach a workable arrangement. Marty was also hoping to find a situation in the same area, and she was hopeful of landing a job teaching Physics or other sciences in her old high school.

Science teachers were hard to find in the present climate, and schools all over Britain were always advertising vacancies as science graduates moved on to more lucrative jobs. Marty and I had worked it out if we hired in a manager for the normal regular running of the pub and I simply kept an eye on the books and stock-keeping; then we could make a decent living.

With these thoughts in our minds, we buckled down to our final year and graduated with satisfactory grades. There were some proud parents who attended our graduation ceremony on that Tuesday morning and even happier ones when we enjoyed a celebratory dinner before bidding our final farewell to our Alma Mater.

Wednesday found us driving home in Convoy with my parents Dot, Sam and Trevor hauling the bulk of our luggage while Marty and I travelled with her parents to arrive at ‘The Harbour Light’ for lunch on the Wednesday. By evening, Marty and her parents had returned to their own home to see her siblings and settle in her belongings that were not needed at the pub. During the summer vacation Marty alternated between our shared bed at the pub and her old childhood bed at home.

After the summer we agreed to take a ‘gap year’ and see where our adventures took us. Europe, Auz, and Canada being our favoured destinations. With this decided, we found ourselves on the ferry to The Hook-of-Holland and whence to Amsterdam where we indulged ourselves for a week before finding temporary work for a few months.

Marty, (ever the one with a nose for a bargain,) managed to find a tiny apartment on Stoofsteeg in Amsterdam Centrum where the previous tenants had done a runner and left the place as a wreck. The owner had been at her wits end trying to get the place repaired but, it being the summer season, labour was hard to come by. Marty had met up with a gay guy who was looking for somewhere to live and by chance he happened to be a builder, plasterer and plumber.

She wangled a deal from the owner that if we three repaired and fixed the apartment we could live rent free while fixing it then stay at a reduced rate until we were ready to move on. The gay guy proved true to his word, and he put in some solid work to repair the place while Marty and I put up the money for materials and helped to decorate.

Amsterdam proved to be an excellent location for touring north Europe and we spent a solid six months taking trains to lots of historic cities.
Thus far, our gap year proved delightful.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~