Easy As Falling Off A Bike pt 1263.

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The Daily Dormouse.
(aka Bike)
Part 1263
by Angharad

Copyright © 2011 Angharad
All Rights Reserved.
  
-Dormouse-001.jpg

I folded up the letter and placed it in my bag after dabbing my eyes, hoping the mascara really was waterproof–it’s a bit undermining claiming upper-class status whilst looking like the villain from an early silent film.

“How d’you know Mr Whitehead?”

“He was my English teacher in Bristol for a couple of years.”

“You must have been a special student for him to leave you his estate?”

“I was. I was the only girl in a school of fifteen hundred boys.”

His eyes nearly popped. “Right,” he picked up some papers pretended to scan them and put them down. “That would make you stand out a bit.”

“Just a bit,” I agreed smiling and Sangster, smirked then sniggered, then chuckled.

“I can’t believe that.” He said shaking his head, “What were your parents thinking of putting you under such pressure.”

“My parents had some very set ideas. The school was a good one and they suggested they would appeal if I was turned down, so they let me in.” This was a slight misinterpretation of what happened. I was initially rejected for some other reason, probably academic, eleven plus result or some such thing, but I think I made the grade ever after–although my results did see-saw a little during the Macbeth episode, although I got a very good mark for English Lit, twenty four out of a twenty five possible score for the question on Lady Macbeth and her character typifying Shakespearean women’s roles.

We had not long before doing the Scottish play, read Twelfth Night, and you can guess who got stuck with reading Viola. So I had a good opportunity to compare the two characters. I also remember, the fact of Viola playing Sebastian, which in Shakespeare’s day would have been a boy playing a girl playing a boy, being commented upon by my contemporaries. When Whitehead had mentioned this gender double complexity, one of my classmates said it was even worse with Watts being a girl playing a boy being a girl pretending to be a boy and failing miserably. It got a very loud laugh and I wanted to curl up and die–at the time–now I can see that whoever the loudmouth was, he had it about right.

I also wondered if Whitehead was testing me by seeing if I could play the women’s roles effectively. I had to three times, those two and Portia in Merchant of Venice. We only read the two plays but I was the only one who read the same part consistently throughout. Whitehead would play to the gallery, or appear to. He would ask for volunteers to read different parts, almost every time someone would volunteer to read this part or that if Watts would read Viola, or Portia.

I got exactly the wrong impression from this. I thought he was picking on me–but now I wonder, was he actually giving me free reign to act as a girl in front of a class of testosterone driven Philistines, when only he and I actually knew it. If only he’d told me.

My reverie was terminated by Mr Sangster passing me the will. “As you can see, Lady Cameron, the will was written over a year ago. His main request was to be cremated and his ashes interred with his late wife. Otherwise he leaves everything to you. We’ll need to get a rough estimate for the Inheritance tax people to get probate. That will almost certainly incur some expense I’m afraid, as the property is in Clarendon Road. D’you know it?”

“No, I don’t think I’ve ever been there, where is it?”

“From here, down towards the front.”

“Okay, what do I have to do?”

“Have you some proof of identity–a driving licence or passport?”

I handed him my licence.

“If I can just photocopy this and get you to sign to say this is you–obviously, I can’t give you a key to a half a million pound house without believing you to be who you said you were.”

I nodded and he went out to reception leaving me to muse again upon the enigma that was Alexander Whitehead. He was so careful in protecting me, I had no idea he was doing it. Then that confrontation at the school when Danny was set upon; was he just worked up after punching a boy and then my arrival caught him off balance? He might have felt defensive when I appeared at the school. Sadly, I shall never know.

“Right, that’s all in order, if you could sign to say that I’ve given you the keys here, oh and you are who you say you are?” I signed two or three times. “As you can see the will is pretty straightforward, and if you’re happy we’ll start organising letters of probate. Please don’t remove anything from the property the valuer will be there tomorrow.”

“What about personal things, diaries, etc?”

“The police have looked through the place so they may already be absent.”

“Why would the police need to search his house–he was the victim not the perpetrator? I saw him murdered, so I know exactly what happened, the same man threatened me and only my son’s quick thinking prevented it.”

“Why, what did he do?”

“He drove my car at him.”

“How old is your son?”

“Twelve.”

“Goodness.”

I waited for him to muse upon the death of his client, whom he would now systematically rob while apparently doing his legal duty.

“Lady Cameron, we’ll be in touch very soon as I suspect there will be other things we’ll need to consult you upon, so if you’d like to view your inheritance, feel free. The car is absolutely splendid. Do you like Jaguars?”

“My husband does, he has one of the sports ones, XK or something. I just like the colour,” I blushed, I wasn’t auditioning for Legally Blonde. We shook hands and I left.

Back in the car, I called home and told Tom where I was. I promised to be home quite soon. I drove to Clarendon Road and then up and down it. My tongue nearly fell out of my dropped jaw. It was a Victorian or Edwardian villa–ie, four stories including a basement/cellar, and attic rooms.

With shaking knees, I climbed the steps to the front door and undid the mortice and Yale locks, and let myself in. I felt like an intruder, as if I shouldn’t be there–like the owner might return at any time and call the police.

The house was beautifully and sympathetically restored, whether Mr Whitehead had done it or bought it this way or whatever, I don’t know. The rooms were large on the ground floor, and quite big in the basement/cellar.

On the first floor was an even bigger drawing room, plus four smaller rooms, one of which was obviously his study. I glanced about and gasped as I saw a framed photo of Lady Macbeth above the fireplace.

I poked about a bit more and found a whole file on me and information about GID and transgenderism in children. The police must have seen this but didn’t make anything of it, least not to me.

Then looking over the back of a lovely leather and mahogany desk, I spotted a book. I had to scramble under the desk to retrieve it as it was stuck on top of the skirting board. Possibly the police hadn’t seen this. It looked like his journal and I opened it with shaking hands.

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Comments

Interesting that Cathy

seems to be accepting this inheritance without question.

I'd give her time

who knows what she may do with the house......Cathy is nothing, If not a law unto herself !

Kirri

A Less Strenuous Cliff Hanger

littlerocksilver's picture

The last man in the world sat in his room. Somebody knocked on the door. Hmmm? No, yours is better.

Portia

Portia

Potential

Wonder if Lady Cameron is going to get some more insights into her schooldays as seen by one of her teachers. It might give her another perspective to effect a more balanced or reasoned view of a tormented childhood.

In my forties and fifties I sometimes mused what it would have been like to talk to those who had suzerainty over me but it never happened. All notes seemingly 'disappeared' all witnesses seemingly dead or 'not available'. Believe me, if finding out who your real parents are is difficult for an adopted child, it's a damned sight harder to find out anything about your childhood if you've been a rejected child.

Cathy may have been lucky to gain another's insight into her schooldays but there again she might not.

We readers will just have to be patient then wait and see.

Looking forward to the next chapters,

Still lovin' it.

Glad you got over your cold Angie and hope you enjoyed Saturday night.

Beverly.

OXOXOX

Growing old disgracefully.

bev_1.jpg

brilliant line

kristina l s's picture

'...with Watts being a girl playing a boy being a girl pretending to be a boy and failing miserably...' I laughed and thought, exactly. Of course Charlie was a bit upset but Cathy shrugs and says..yep. Ah Ang, very good and a nice little potentially revalatory cliff hangery thingie...err is that a sentence? Anyway, keep it comin'.

Kris

The only girl… ?

“I was. I was the only girl in a school of fifteen hundred boys.”

In a group that large, perhaps not. There may well have been two or three others. Perhaps Cathy should do a little follow-up research on her classmates?

Still going strong after this long!

Cathy Cameron's Schooldays

I can't help but reflect on how much more than for cis-people, a transgendered person's schooldays are a major part of their development as an individual. That certainly comes through in Bike.

Thanks A+B: It's really going to be interesting just what Cathy discovers in Whitehead's journal and files. Certainly the photos seem to have surprised her, and sound like the sorts of things she'll treasure.

I note that in the comments on Part 1262, yesterday, mention was made of the Bike Map showing the relative locations of places in Easy As Falling Off A Bike. The link below my signature will take you to mittfh's Bike Resources page, where there's a link to the Bike Map. I have just added two further locations in the light of recent Bikesodes: Winston Churchill Avenue and Clarendon Road, Southsea.

Past Schooling


Bike Resources

Yep the place is big enough

... for her brood I think. She is no longer at Tom's mercy with regard to having a home of her own.

Now, another chapter begins for our heroine as she now has an opportunity to really put closure into that part of her past.

Kim

Well Cathy might now have to pay too much

Unless I've misread it, inheritance tax as UK law seems to have the concept of exemption allowance transfer between spouses so she may very well be exempt for the first 600K. But then I have never been much at law. In any event, she gets a nil rate of 300K minimum but 40% of any above that is a really huge amount of money. May she can get a mortgage from High Street bank to cover the inheritance balance? I hear she knows someone in the business :).

Kim

Easy As Falling Off A Bike pt 1263

I can see Jenny, Julie, Maureen, Simon, Stella, and even Tom drooling over the Jag.

    Stanman
May Your Light Forever Shine
    Stanman
May Your Light Forever Shine

Wow

Angharad,

Having just completed my weekly omnibus edition of EAFOAB, all I can say is wow.

From laughing about lollipops, to weeping about Whitehead, your ability to draw emotions and feelings from at least this one of your band of followers highlights your strength and ability as a writer.

Now, we have a mystery journal. I for one hope it is a case of ‘the games afoot’

Love to all

Anne G.

The way Cathy keeps on

The way Cathy keeps on collecting houses, you could almost believe she will eventually have enough for each child in the family to have their own when they either marry or leave home to be on their own. Mr. Whitehead's home sounds really, really nice and just might be the ticket for all the members of the family to move into and actually have some real room for them all.

Mortice/Mortise -- Who Cares?

"I climbed the steps to the front door and undid the mortice and Yale locks".

I have no idea why I know this -- I have NOTHING to do with woodworking but I believe the correct spelling is 'mortise'. Of course, nowadays, you can check that sort of thing on the Internet but (A) I'm terminally lazy, and (B) I'm busy reading my favorite BGTS serial.

Yours from the Great White North,

Jenny Grier (Mrs.)

x

Yours from the Great White North,

Jenny Grier (Mrs.)

According to my Pocket Oxford

Angharad's picture

I know, I have big pockets, it's either, so ya nearly caught me. (I use a dictionary not a spell checker, but only for words I'm unsure of. Which means of course I can be wrong but unwittingly so. None of us is perfect, or maybe that should be none of you, I'm so close I can almost taste it.)

Angharad

Angharad

Mortice/Shmortise

Puddintane's picture

Both are correct, indifferently, as Angharad sagely observed, although it could have been rosemerrily. Depends entirely on whom you ask.

mortice
noun & verb
variant spelling of mortise.

Cheers,

Puddin'

A tender heart is an asset to an editor: it helps us be ruthless in a tactful way.
--- The Chicago Manual of Style

-

Cheers,

Puddin'

A tender heart is an asset to an editor: it helps us be ruthless in a tactful way.
--- The Chicago Manual of Style

FWIW

The Shorter Oxford English Dictionary, Sixth Edition accepts mortice as a noun and verb that's a variation of mortise.

The variant used here didn't detract from my reading of this Bikesode.

BTW Angharad, you'd need especially large pockets to accommodate the two doorstop-sized physical volumes of the SOED6. Fortunately it also comes with a software version, which is eminently more useable.

Particular Spellings


Bike Resources

I'd need deep pockets

Angharad's picture

to pay for it, too!

Angharad

Angharad

Looks like Cathy has a backup home

besides her parents old home. Recently some mentioned how sad it was that a life time passion was dispersed to the winds. It applies in this case.

The Jag sounds interesting.

Seems more of an estate than a house. the furnishing are more than not not quite wothy1

Cefin