Whatever Next? Chapter 21 by Angharad Copyright© 2022 Angharad

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(title picture Andrea Piacquadio)

For the next two days Gaby wore trousers, wondering if anyone would see through her charade and accuse her of being a boy. They didn’t, mainly because the trousers were rather tight and stretchy and the boys would still follow her around the school gazing at her bum.

Maddy did mention what was happening, but Gaby decided this time it must be jealousy, and ignored it—much to the delight of two hundred boys. ‘I can’t win, can I?’ the wunderkind asked herself—‘if I wear a skirt and nice shoes, that’s wrong, if I put on trousers, that’s wrong too. I reckon it’s a wind-up.’

It was lunch time and Gaby and Harry were yawning. The early mornings were taking their toll on the two teenagers. Fitness was improving, but they seemed to be tired all day afterwards.

Harry had nodded off in a French lesson and his teacher had gone ballistic, setting him extra work as a punishment. It annoyed Harry rather a lot, and his anger kept him awake for the remainder of the morning.

Gaby was standing behind Harry in the meal queue. As she walked in, there was an air of expectation and quietness descended, so everyone could hear what was said. Pupils crowded around to hear the exchange, and the dinner ladies stopped what they were doing to listen in.

“Oh oh, here she comes,” muttered one, which normally wouldn’t have been overheard, but with everyone’s ears strained, it created a titter that ran through the crowd.

“I’ll have the fillet of sole bonne femme, pommes duchesses and celeriac, oh, and a bottle of Riesling.”

“Ah soles? Oh, Lady Muck, I am so sorry, but we just sold the last sole, and the wine store was burgled last night.”

“What do you have, then?” asked Gaby in what she thought was a posh voice.

“Salmon and broccoli quiche, salad, and sparkling or still water, with or without fruit juice.”

“I’ll take the quiche, sparkling with a touch of lime, calmed not shaken, plus a side salad. What desserts do you have, I fancy, apricot roulade.”

“Rice pudden’, fruit salad or trifle, or you could have a spotted dick.”

“I don’t think I want to discuss your private life in here, so may I have a fruit salad, I presume it’s all freshly picked this morning?”

“But of course, yer Ladyship, done it myself, picked the tin off the shelf by ‘and.”

“That will be all, my good woman, pray tell me how much is that?”

“To any of the riff raff, two an’ a ‘alf quid; to you, two pounds fifty pence.”

“You are soooo kind, do you give Tesco points, I have my card here?” At this the giggles started and Gaby had to work very hard not to give way to them as well.

“You silly bugger,” said Harry as they walked to a corner table.

“They like it, the dinner ladies, I mean.”

“I know, one of them changed her shift to see you.”

“How do you know that?”

“Her son’s in my group for English.”

“Oh, I hope I didn’t disappoint then.”

“I think they were all hoping you’d mention your bra size again.”

“Why?”

“ ‘Cos they thought it was funny. ‘Bond, Gaby Bond, double A cup.’ That was brill.”

“Yes, it was quite good wasn’t it.” Gaby smirked to herself, Drew wouldn’t have come up with a killer line like that, just as well he’s not here.

“Just one more day to go, then we’re off to Wales; pity Nicole’s out of the race,” sighed Harry.

“Yeah, I was looking over the route, it’s got two nasty climbs, one very steep and the other a long one.”

“Hey, do you think we’d have time to like, ride it?” asked Harry.

“Depends on when the race actually finishes and what time your parents will pick us up.”

“Mum was talking about going to Cardiff, so if they do and the race finishes like, before three, we should have plenty of time to ride it.”

“It’s twenty miles around, they do it three times.”

“Geez, sixty miles?”

“It’s actually closer to seventy, but what’s a few miles between friends?”

“Harry, Gabs,” said William as he joined their table, “I missed the cabaret, then?”

“Yep, short one today,” Harry commented.

“Hiya,” said Maddy sitting down with her quiche.

“Hi, Mad, you coming out on the training ride tomorrow mornin’?” Gaby asked.

“What? You crazy?”

“Do you want to borrow her bike?” Gaby asked William.

“Is it big enough?”

“Yeah, it’s my mother’s training bike, she’s as tall as you.”

“Yeah, I quite fancy that. Okay, you’re on.”

“No she isn’t, but I am,” said Maddy ruefully.

Harry swallowed a chip whole and began coughing. William smacked him hard on the back just as Gaby offered him a cup of water, the two collided and it spilled down his shirt and into his lap. “Oh shit,” he yelled as he jumped up, but it stopped his coughing. It also caused a roar of laughter around the room.

“What’s the matter, Palmer, peed your pants?” called one wit, and the laughter ran round the room again. Gaby—who was blushing—rushed off to get a towel but came back too late to be much help, his trousers had a dark wet patch all through the crotch and fly area.

The embarrassment kept our hero wide awake right through the afternoon, so it had one positive effect. It also made Gaby feel very guilty all afternoon, especially when they sat together in science, and she put a hand on his groin to see if his trousers were dry yet. Something twitched and she pulled her hand away as if she’d touched a large hairy spider. The look on both their faces was enough to set half the class into fits of giggles.

“What are you doing?” he hissed.

Blushing furiously and wishing she could disappear in a puff of smoke, she replied, “Just seeing if they were dry yet.”

“And…?”

“I dunno, why?”

“Wanna check again?” William, who was sitting next to Harry, fell off his stool.

“Miss Bond, you seem to be having a hot flush, is there any reason for it?” asked ‘Test-tube Thomas’, the chemistry teacher.

“No, sir,”

“I’m glad to hear it, so can you give me an example of a non-ferrous metal?”

“Um, non-ferrous, that means no iron…”

“Usually,” replied the teacher.

“Um, nickel.”

“Very good, Miss Bond, would you like to give us one of its uses?”

“Um, oh dear, um. Oh, I know, they make bra clasps from it.” The room erupted and Gaby blushed even more.

“They certainly used to, but too many ladies were allergic to it, so they use plastic or plastic coated steel.”

“You seem to know a lot about bras, sir,” called a voice from the other side of the room.

“Yes, my wife happens to wear them,” the teacher replied trying not to blush.

“You having a hot flush, sir?” called the same voice.

“Peterson, if I hear your little voice once more, I shall perform an experiment on the destructive distillation of Peterson.”

“Go for it,” called a voice from the back.

“Thank you, Smithers, please point your small brain towards non-ferrous metals, and you can give me another one?”

“Iron,” said the voice.

“Ferrous metals are iron and steel. I asked for a non-ferrous one, there are plenty to choose from.”

“Um, copper.”

“Thank you, Smithers—used for?”

“Making policemen, sir?”

“Yes, very droll, Smithers, now a proper use, if you please?”

“Makin’ wires for electric.”

“Good, Mr Palmer, before you were distracted by your beautiful companion, you were occasionally looking at the board, I want another non-ferrous metal.”

“Uranium,” offered Harry.

“Indeed,” the teacher was slightly taken a-back, “uses?”

“Bombs, power stations.”

“Quite, um Mr Bugler, assuming you can stay on your seat, another metal?”

“Aluminium.”

“And?”

“They make all sorts of things from it.”

“They do indeed, such as?”

“Bike frames, pots and pans, cooking foil, drinks cans, cars…”

“Thank you, Mr Bugler, yes aluminium is one of the most commonly occurring elements in the earth’s crust, however, it wasn’t easily available until the late nineteenth or early twentieth century. It is said that the emperor Napoleon had a dinner service made of aluminium, which at the time was more valuable than silver and possibly gold.”

“I got a drinks can he can ‘ave for a fiver,” called a wit from the back of the class.

“Thank you, Mr Compton, but no deal. Okay, class, please read chapter seven on non-ferrous metals before the next lesson.” The bell rang and they were finished for the day.

On the Friday, it rained very heavily so they didn’t ride. Gaby went into the garage and did various exercises, including squats and stretches. Harry had an hour on his turbo-trainer. He had thought of inviting his beloved, but then decided she was already fitter than he was, so he kept quiet. Gaby thought she’d get hers down when the opportunity arose, although it wasn’t her favourite form of exercise. William, wisely stayed in bed.

Gaby, fed up with the comments and stares at her trousers, wore a skirt with flatter shoes and thick tights. Suddenly she ceased to be a sex object and although she felt dowdy, it was a relief. The day passed quietly, except for the usual sparring with the dinner ladies in the school canteen.

On Saturday morning, Gaby showered and dressed in cycling gear and hoped that it was the sun she could see shining outside. It was quarter to seven, Harry’s parents were coming at eight for her. She dried her hair and plaited it, finishing it with a scrunchie to match her red cycling kit. Then she went down to start breakfast.

Carol was already up, aware that Gaby was wanting an early start. “You’re looking smart for a bike ride,” commented Carol.

“Yeah, well, I thought I’d better impress his mother, she’s a bit of a pain.”

“I see, not Harry himself, then?”

“God, no.” Gaby blushed and Carol smirked. 'I always wore eyeliner and mascara to impress my future mother in law, not' she thought to herself.

“You smell nice as well, Gaby.”

“Yeah, some stuff Mummy gave me at Christmas.”

“Jenny gave Gaby presents as well?”

“Sort of, she gave it to me when she came over before Christmas, but I was having a Gaby period.”

“It doesn’t matter, but it smells nice.”

“Yeah, I like it, Mummy’s good at matching pongs to people,” Gaby smiled and so did Carol.

“If you say so.”

“Can I like, make some sandwiches?”

“’Course, you know where everything i,” said Carol who then stepped away to let the teen make the snack to take with her. Ten minutes later, she came back and Gaby was still at it. “How many are you catering for?”

“This is lunch and possibly tea.”

“I see, there’s fruit in the fridge.”

“Thanks, Auntie Carol, can I take some for Harry.”

“Yes, of course. Are some of those sandwiches for him?”

“Yes, I couldn’t eat all of those, now could I?”

“I don’t know, Gabs, depends on how hungry you are.” They both laughed and Josie came down.

“You’re up early, Gaby.”

“Going to watch a race in Wales with Harry.”

“Oh yes, you said about it the other day. Have a nice time.”

“Thanks, Gran.”

“Here, have this towards lunch.” She handed Gaby a five pound note.

“Wow, thanks, Gran.” She kissed her grandmother on the cheek. Carol smiled and watched as Gaby put the money in her purse and then filled her small rucksack with food and drink.

The Palmers arrived at eight and loaded Gaby’s bike on the back of the car on top of Harry’s. “Geez, what’s in the bag?” asked Harry as he took it off her and put it in the car.

“Something towards lunch,” she said and smiled.

“What, a bison?”

“No, silly, a couple of fresh killed sheep.”

“That’s okay then.”

“Where have we got to drop you, Gaby?” asked Simon Palmer, as they headed off towards Dorchester.

“The Celtic Manor, which is like, on the outskirts of Newport.”

“Okay, oh is that the huge place you can see from the motorway?”

“I don’t know Mr Palmer, I’ve not been down that way before.”

“I’ll bet it is, absolutely enormous place.”

Gaby offered him the map she’d downloaded.

“Yeah, that’s got to be the one. If you’re planning on having lunch there, I hope you’ve got loads of money with you.”

“No, but I’ve got loads of sandwiches with me.”

The journey was relatively uneventful. Mr Palmer chose to drive cross country to Bridgewater where they picked up the M5 motorway, then across to the M4 and via the new Severn Bridge to Wales. Half an hour later, they were letting the teens out near the Celtic Manor Hotel and Leisure Complex.

“We’ll meet you back here at six, don’t be late, have a nice time.”

“You too, Mr Palmer.”

“We’ll have loadsa time to do that lap of the course after the race finishes.”

“Where shall we wait to watch it?”

“Top of the hill, down this way, I think.” Gaby led Harry off to the top of Cat’s Ash Road, which is a stinker of a hill. She was glad to put down the rucksack with all its food. “Wanna sandwich?”

“Yeah, why not?” said Harry accepting the little package of bread. “Dad gave me a tenner for some food and drink, and I noticed a shop down the bottom of the hill, so I’ll buy some drinks later.”

“Yeah, okay, it looks like it’s gonna be a warm one, shoulda brought my sun cream.”

“I’ve got some,” Harry dug about in his small back pack, “Here, where would you like some?”

“On my arms and legs, please.”

“Okay, I’ll do that for you,” he said—rather too eagerly for Gaby’s comfort, and began massaging the gooey stuff into her legs. She wasn’t overly worried, the elasticated legs of her cycling shorts would be real passion killers if needed. Although as she glanced down at Harry’s she thought, ‘That bulge is not the chamois, that’s for sure.’

Gaby pinched a little of the sun cream and rubbed it over her nose and cheeks, mainly to stop them going red if they were stuck out in the sun for most of the day.

“What time will they be through here then?” asked Harry.

“About an hour after they start, if they cycle a steady twenty. If they don’t it will be longer. Remember they have two nasty climbs.”

“So do we, if you remember, if we like ride it.”

“Changing your mind now, are we boyo?”

“Boyo?”

“Well, we’re in Wales, aren’t we, if we cross the Severn Bridge, I assume we are.”

“Yeah, I suppose so. All the signs were in stupid Welsh, weren’t they?”

“I’d be careful what you say about such things here, you might get deported—besides, you only think it’s stupid because you can’t understand them. Croeso i Cymru,” she said.

“What?”

“Welcome to Wales,” she said smiling at him.

“Yeah, you’re welcome to it,” he replied eating another sandwich.