Jenny and Bea's mother Angela is introduced to the extended family. Things progress better than Sandies wildest hopes as the reunion of mother and children demonstrates the intensity and effectiveness of Sandie's therapy.

 

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I did not sleep well that night and unusually, I slept in. By the time I was awake, I remembered that Jenny and Bea had slept over with Chenille and Martina in the barn conversion. I had not been woken by the usual ‘dawn thunder’ of feet on the landing. Obviously, Sandie, Margaret and Sian had sensed I was too troubled about developments. I would not have been a fit parent to the girls that day. When I finally appeared in the kitchen window, Sandie took her cue and crossed the yard from the barn house. I met her at the door and she entered with a wary smile.

“Are you feeling better this morning?”

“Where are the girls?” I replied.

“Margaret took them in to school on her way to the office.”

“You haven’t told them anything, have you?”

“Of course not. There’s a hell of lot of stuff before we do that.”

“Like me and my -, what d’you call it now -, my condition.”

“That’s the least of my problems. Angela’s cure is my main concern.”

“And once again, I’m to be the cure; is that it?”

Sandie smiled disarmingly. I knew I should be angry and frightened, but it was hard

to resist her charming wiles. I should have resented her manipulative activities but it was hard to anticipate her tactics and head them off. I should have fought off her ambushes but I felt like an old tramp ship crossing the Atlantic in the war, a sitting duck with virtually no defences. We settled in the kitchen and ended up chatting all morning as we raked over all my fears and suspicions. She even listed all the bullet points and annotated her answers. After lunch that afternoon Sandie went house hunting with her husband and children whilst I sat down and studied the list.

I added a few of my own then locked the list in my dressing table and went to pick up the children. I met Sandie and her family on the high street as they were coming out of an estate agent’s. (Realtor to our American cousins.) Introductions were made but I was on my way to collect the children and couldn’t stop.

“It’s OK, we’re going that way as well. I want Greg to see the local school.”

We waited outside the school gates with a myriad other parents and Sandie assessed the parents. As a typical professional parent, she was fussy about where her children were to be taught. Then the doors opened and the children came out and went to immediately familiar places where their parents gathered in regular groups. Eventually my four little darlings appeared and I made my farewells to Sandie and Greg.

‘They could form their own opinions about the school’ I thought.

The following Saturday morning Sandie and her family arrived unexpectedly at my cottage. The original plan had been for Elizabeth, Mrs Bodkin, and Sandie to turn a business trip into pleasure that Saturday afternoon and Sunday. Saturday morning was always busy with people bringing their children for riding lessons. The riding centre was in full swing and our own girls were busy assisting Sylvia. This was how they earned their pocket money allowances. Sandie had used the legitimate excuse of bringing her children to have a ride on the ponies whilst she continued our discussions in anticipation of Elizabeth’s arrival.

Reluctantly, I invited her in whilst Greg and their children visited the horses and then went riding.

“Have you studied the list of points?” She asked me.

“Yes. There are several more issues.”

“Go on,” she replied.

I showed her my additional list and she studied it thoughtfully.

“Why d’you want Elizabeth taken off the case?”

“I think it might be argued that Elizabeth might be prejudiced. After all she’s
visited here as a guest and if that came out, it could easily jeopardise my adoption of the girls.”

I did not mention Elizabeth’s lesbianism, for I still wasn’t sure if Sandie was aware of it. However, if that came out as well, the gutter press would have a field day with the set up at my cottage. There was no knowing what their puerile minds might dream up.

“Elizabeth’s your best friend in this case and your most powerful ally.” Observed Sandie.

“That’s what makes it so difficult. I know you’re right on that.”

“Well, I think it’s best to wait and see. I understand your fears, but let’s not cross our bridges before we get to them.”

Reluctantly I agreed to this.
That afternoon, Mrs Bodkin and Elizabeth arrived and their combined weight finally broke down my defences. Once again, I had proved to be weak where emotional issues were concerned. I ruefully contemplated how it was easy to be hard and ruthless with money and ships. I could be detached and dispassionate about money and ships but it was ‘oh so different’ when it came to children and emotions. Unsurprisingly, Elizabeth supported Sandie on the issue of her reserving the case to herself unless things became sticky.

By the evening, arrangements were well in hand to re-introduce Angela to her children. Apparently she was progressing well and the psychiatrists had high hopes for her. I was nervous and failed to sleep again that Saturday night. During Sunday lots of loose ends were tied up and it was decided to only tell the girls about their mother a few hours before she arrived. Nobody knew what their reaction would be.

During the week, Sandie spoke to me several times. She was having a hectic time what with moving house and everything. Eventually the crunch call came early on Friday morning.

“We think it best for her to come down on the Tuesday.”

“Why’s that?” I asked.

Your home and domestic routines will be settled for the week and I need some time to talk to Jenny and Bea’s Head Mistress on the Monday. They are going to be off school for a few days whilst reconciliations and re-introductions are made. We will introduce Angela to you first, whilst the girls are in school then when they come home, we’ll introduce her to the girls.”

”Won’t that stress her out? Knowing the girls are alive and yet she cant get to them.”

“She will only know for an hour or so before the children get home. This is uncertain ground for me and I’m just not sure how to go about it. Angela thinks I’m taking her to see a sheltered housing placement.”

“Is that what my dream cottage has become, some sort of care home?”

“Hey! Help me on this,” protested Sandie, “it’s the best we can do.”

“Gee thanks! What’s she like? Does she talk or is she some sort of catatonic mute?”

“No. I wouldn’t overload you with that sort of burden. She can talk now and she’s quite responsive, but she’s very emotional and cries a lot.”

“Isn’t that a good thing? It shows her emotions are working.”

“Well done Bev. We’ll make a psychiatrist of you yet. That’s exactly where we are at this juncture. She’s very emotional and feels immensely guilty about her girls. She still thinks they are dead.”

“Oh great! So there will be copious tears and hysterics when she learns otherwise, at my house. I hope you’re prepared for this. What happens if she gets violent or something? I’m no sort of male nurse or anything, with muscles to restrain her.

You’ve seen me, any male muscles I once had have long since atrophied. Is she a big girl?”

“No, she’s about one point six five metres and fifty eight kilos. She’s quite an attractive woman.”

“On the outside, and what about the inside?”

“Why d’you ask?”

“Well surely you’re the best to judge. You’re the professional brain digger. What’s she like as a woman, is she kind or selfish, and is she strong willed or submissive, is she amenable or stubborn? All that sort of stuff.”

“We haven’t even got that far yet Bev. Her cure is going to take a long time.”

“How long?” I demanded snappishly.

“I just can’t say. There’s no knowing.”

“Gee thanks. So you could be dumping a psychopath on my hands.”

“She’s not psychopathic. I can state that professionally.”

“Oh yeah. I suppose you can say that because psychopath has some sort of specific medical meaning that your profession can readily describe and therefore accurately diagnose and state with confidence in court. I might have used the wrong word. Let’s put it another way; can you say that the children and indeed any of us adults are perfectly safe?”

There was a long silence that told me everything. This Angela might still need watching. Finally Sandie started to answer but her pause had already given me her answer. Nothing was certain, and I would have to have eyes in the back of my head until Angela’s relationship towards the girls and me had been determined. Sandie recognised my fears so she finished by discussing arrangements as a way of distracting me.

That weekend, I found myself mawkishly attentive to Jenny and Bea, so much so that even they commented about my fussing around them. When Tuesday came I found myself on tenterhooks. Even baking a pile of cakes failed to calm me and as the hour approached I found myself staring down the lane. I debated whether to remove my cooking apron then decided to leave it on. I hoped it would create the image of the loving granny preparing tarts and cakes for her grandchildren. Call me stupid if you will, but I just didn’t know what to do for the best. I hoped the inviting smell of cooking and a warm domestic scene would be the best welcome.
Finally I heard the soft hum of Sandie’s car in the lane. The still summer air carried the slightest sound and I found myself standing in the kitchen doorway as the car reached the yard.

Sandie got out first and then introduced Angela as I stepped forward to welcome her.

“Beverly, this is Angela, Jenny and Beatrice’s mother.”

Still uncertain of how to go about welcoming her, I held out my right hand as if to shake hands whilst simultaneously half extending the other to change it to an embrace if she wished. Angela smiled weakly and I realised she was as afraid as I was. Realising I was the host and on my own territory as it were, I reached forward and slowly opened my arms wider to invite her in to my embrace. She lurched forward uncertainly then finally fell into my arms and started squeezing me as tight as a python as she started sobbing. She didn’t even bother to say hello or anything she simply burst out with a plea.

“My girls, are they here?”

“Uuhm. No not yet. I’m sorry. Mrs Bodkin is fetching them from school. They’ll be here shortly.”

“Have they changed much?” She demanded.
This question left me nonplussed. Of course the girls had changed. It had been nearly three years. I stared desperately over Angela’s shoulder to seek some sort of Guidance from Sandie who was watching our interactions like a hawk. Sandie mouthed ‘Yes’. So I took her cue.

“Well yes love. Of course they’ve changed. How could they not have changed? They -, they’re three years older. Jenny’s nearly twelve.”

“And Bea, what of Bea?”

“Well -, well it’s the same for her, she’s ten now. Little girls are bound to change. You’ll see when they get home.”

“Home! Home! Is this where they live?”

Her questions stumped me for a moment then I remembered Sandie’s original ploy. She had told Angela that they were going to check out a suitable home for Angela and meet the girls. She obviously hadn’t mentioned that the girls lived at the same place.

“Why -, why yes. The girls live here.”

“What! You mean here? Here in this house?”

“Well yes. D’you want to see?”

“Please. Oh yes please!”

Unsure of how to go about it, I took her immediately up to the girl’s bedroom. She hesitated for a moment then stepped between the beds where some neatly folded freshly laundered clothes lay on the bed. I had put them there for the girls to sort out as they always did. On the pillows, their chartreuse all-in-ones lay loosely folded as the girls usually left them.

“Are, - are, - are these their, their pyjamas.”

“Uuhm, - yes,” I replied nervously as I wondered if she might think the all-in-ones to be unsuitable for young girls or something. I stood behind her unconsciously wringing my hands as I waited tensely for her next reaction.

Suddenly she let another loud sob then without hesitation she seized the nighties and squeezed them to her face as she breathed deeply. Then she grabbed a pillow from each bed and pushed them to her face. I glanced at Sandie who confirmed my own feelings. The poor woman was desperate to get the faintest intimation of her children. Sandie nodded and smiled at me and I smiled back, it was exactly what I would have done if I had lost the girls and then found them again. It was perhaps one of the most fundamental emotive things a mother could do. Children have a smell and mothers subconsciously recognised their own child’s scent. After holding the pillows to her face for several minutes she finally realised we were still there. Her eyes filled up and she apologised for her actions.

“There’s no need to be sorry,” I reassured her as I reached out to take her trembling hands. “If I’d lost them and then found them again like you, I’d have done exactly the same.”

“Will they remember me?” She asked.
Here I was on surer ground. Whenever the girls had asked me about their mother, I had been completely honest. I had never intimated that she might be dead or anything. I had always confessed that I just didn’t know. This had help keep their hopes alive and therefore their memories. The girls definitely remembered their mother and Mrs Fotheringay their grandmother had left them with a huge inheritance of memories and artefacts, most of which were stored away to await a suitable day when they might ask about something specific. Here I could really be of help.

“Oooh yes; definitely.” I replied unequivocally, “they ask about you a lot.”

“Do they know about me being back, being here?”
I glanced at my watch and smiled as I nodded to reassure her yet again..

“They will now. Mrs Bodkin will be telling them just about now. D’you want to speak to them. They’ll be just about leaving school. Mrs Bodkin has got a hand’s free mobile set up in her car.”

“Oh Yes! Yes, yes, yes! Yes please. Oh thank you!”

Anticipating this, Sandie produced her mobile and dialled the number. It rang and Sandie spoke briefly to Mrs Bodkin.

”Hello dear. Are they there? - Do they know?”

"Yes."

Sandie smiled and handed the phone to Angela as she switched it to 'voice'.
For long seconds Angela just stood dumb with emotion as we all heard the girls squealing down the phone.

“Mummy! Mummy. Are you there? Is that really you? Mummy! Answer the phone!”

Finally, as she recognised their voices the tears streamed down her face. She let out a loud sob and wailed.

“Ye-ess! I’m here. I’m here. I’m home!”

With that the girls screamed with excitement and I could here them shrieking with delight as they repeatedly told Martina and Chenille who were sharing the car ride home. Angela just stood dumbly staring into the phone as she listened to her daughter’s ecstatic reactions. Finally she turned to me and I distinctly noticed the dull vacant look in her eyes suddenly betray a sparkle of awareness. Angela’s whole demeanour had already improved remarkably..

“Who are the other children?”

“They’re your children’s closest friends. Their names are Chenille and Martin, and they live across the yard.”

I pointed out of Jennifer and Beatrice’s bedroom window towards the barn conversions and Angela nodded as I explained the set up..

“That’s Chenille’s window, the one on the corner. They wave good night to each other on the rare occasions when they are not sleeping over.”

“And how often is that?”

“What? The sleeping over; oh they do it most nights. All four children are very close friends. As you can see there are four beds in this room, well there are also four beds in the barn conversion across the yard where Chenille and Martina live.

“That sounds nice so it’s like one big happy family.”

“Well, - sort of,” I conceded..

The phone went silent and as she handed the phone back to Sandie, Angela fell silent. I suggested a cup of tea and she smiled.

“That would be lovely. The cup that cheers.”

“Well yes indeed!” I agreed, “and something to cheer about.”

Angela turned to Sandie as tears started to cascade down her cheeks.

“So I’m to stay here then.”

“If you wish. With your children.”

Angela ‘s emotions finally broke through like a dam bursting. She collapsed into an armchair and simply wailed. I had never heard or seen anything so emotional before. The volume was painful to listen to.

Sandie and I discreetly retreated to the kitchen and busied ourselves with the tea for a while to give Angela a chance to compose herself. Finally the noise ceased and her tear streaked face appeared in the doorway.

“I could face that tea now.”

Without hesitation, I turned with the cup I was holding as Sandie proffered the milk jug and sugar bowl. Angela smiled as she noticed our preparations and she settled at the kitchen table to sip her tea.

“How long before they get home.”

“About twenty minutes. You’d best repair your makeup, you’ll frighten them looking like that.” I replied as I poured Sandie and me a cup each then settled at the same table. Sandi selected a few choice biscuits and placed the plate between the three of us.

“The cake is for when the girls arrive.”

“Mmmm. It smells good.”

“Thank you.” I replied graciously. “The girls usually help but today’s special.”

“And some!” Agreed Angela wholeheartedly.

She finished her tea and turned expectantly towards the pot. I reached back to the worktop and hefted it over. It was a huge, ornate pewter Victorian pot that served well when the house was crowded.
This evening the house would certainly be crowded if Angela decided she could face her neighbours to be. As we sat facing each other, Sandie spoke.

“Now Angela. What questions d’you have?”

Angela stared into her cup and pursed her lips.

“Where do I start?”

“Well what about the girls for a start. What d’you want for them?”

“Naturally, I want them to live with me.”

“Well, if you live here then that’s easily accommodated.”

“What. Here in your house?” Replied Angela, anxiously.

“Well; not exactly here, unless you really want to. You can live in one of the apartments across the yard if you prefer, or indeed, you can live here. It’s a big house.”

“Do you live here alone?” She asked me.

“Yes. Just me and the girls.”

“Who else lives here?”

“You mean across the yard?”

“Yes.”

“Well, there’s Margaret and Sian, they share the barn conversion. The other two children coming home are Chenille and Martin. They are Margaret and Sian’s children and there are two infants, babes in arms. Then there’s Sylvia. She’s pony mad and she works for Sian running the stables and trekking. Sylvia lives in one of the apartments. There are four other apartments attached to four dormitories for school parties. There’s plenty of space for you. Believe me, we bounce around this house like pebbles in a drum.”

“Is that an invite?”

“If you want it to be. I’d advise you stay in one of the other apartments for the rest of this week though until you’ve felt your way a bit; unless the girls demand differently of course.

The apartment next to Sylvia’s is empty until Friday night when a school party arrives from Birmingham, they’re disadvantaged kids from the inner city. We’re fully booked this weekend and they’ve taken over the whole place.”

We chatted some more until I realised the time and suggested that Angela repair her makeup. Reluctantly she left the table and slipped into the downstairs lavatory as Sandie and I laid the table.

Angela returned from the loo with her looks repaired and I had to admit she was an attractive woman.

“Who else lives here?” She asked inquisitively.

I looked at her puzzled but Sandie intervened.

“As I told you one the way down from London, Angela. You don’t have to worry about any men being around.”

I saw Angela visibly relax as Sandie reminded me of Angela’s phobia.

“Angela has a morbid fear of men after her experiences with the terrorists. I’m sure you’ll understand.”

I nodded silently as I contemplated any possible future complications.

‘God forbid,’ I thought, ‘if she ever discovered what I was. ‘God alone knew what the upshot would be.’

My thoughts were interrupted as the excited squeals from Jenny and Bea announced their arrival. Angela emerged nervously to meet them but we need not have worried about the girl’s reactions’ to their mother. Whatever reservations any of us might have had, were swept away in the ecstasy of the girl’s reunion with their mother. Angela was squeezed and hugged with such vehemence that she later told me her bones were aching from the attention. Finally we got everybody settled around the table and Mrs Bodkin produced the celebration cake that I had prepared.

“It’s like a birthday!” Shrieked Beatrice.

“It’s like three birthdays!” Added Jennifer, and that gave me an idea.

“Candles! I forgot the candles. One for every year that each of you has been apart.”

“That’s three,” declared Beatrice, a little disappointed at only three candles on the cake.

“No, that’s three years for each of us, you me and mummy. That’s nine.” Corrected Jenny

“Nine it is then!” I added as I rooted through the dresser drawer to dig out some old birthday remnants.

There I found a half empty box with ten candles remaining so I stuck all ten into the cake.

“That’s ten!” Charged Bea.

“One for luck. One for you being found.”

I almost said ‘One for Skipper’ but just managed to correct myself.

That was a hurdle we had yet to clear.

As Jenny studied the cake, she demanded that Martin and Chenille must attend so Beatrice dashed across the yard to make the invitation as Jenny found some party hats up in their bedroom. The other two returned with Bea after changing from school and Martin was dressed as Martina. Fortunately, in the excitement, Angela had seemingly forgotten that I had spoken of Martin earlier. If she noticed anything, she said nothing. I let sleeping dogs lie.

Around the table the chatter became a tumult and I became nervous that the conversation might turn to the kidnap and rescue. I felt tense until finally Sian and Sylvia came from the stables where they had been putting the ponies to bed. This provided a further distraction and then later, Margaret came home from her office. It was long gone nine o’clock and Angela was exhausted by the proceedings. Reluctantly, she indicated that she was tired and requested that she could go to bed. A brief discussion determined that she could sleep in the girl’s study-bedroom on one of the spare beds that Chenille and Martina sometimes used when they slept over. More often than not though, the four children dragged the four beds in the girls room together and slept together.

Having Angela sleep in the adjoining bed-study room with the bathroom separating her from her children proved an admirable solution and she eagerly took her luggage from Sandie’s car before finally retiring after Jenny and Bea had bathed.
As Angela showered in the girl’s bathroom, I arrived with cups of chocolate for her and the girls whilst Sandie and Mrs Bodkin cleared away the party tailings. She emerged from the bathroom into the girl’s bedroom to find them in their nightdresses and me preparing to read a story. I turned a little self-consciously and offered the book to her.

“No. You read it. I’ll just sit on the bed with them and listen. She sighed softly.”

I had deliberately picked an old traditional story with a happy ending. It seemed to fit the occasion and Angela listened as raptly as her daughters. When I had finished, she hugged me as tightly as ever her daughters had then she hugged her daughters for what seemed an age.

There wasn’t a dry eye in the room when she finally retired to her own bed and left the connecting bathroom doors open to reassure herself that she really was back with her daughters. I slipped discreetly away to my own room and flung myself nervously on the bed.

After lying there for a few minutes, I started changing for bed. I had chosen my most flamboyant royal blue all-in-one followed by my fullest full-length ‘ball-gown’ nightdress and topped with the laciest, frilliest matching peignoir. Then after turning down my satin sheets, I sat up in my bed and studied my appearance in the dressing table mirrors. I looked like an empress holding court. Then there was a soft knock on the door.

“Who it is?” I asked softly so as not to wake the rest of the house.

“It’s Sandie. Can I come in?”

I was relieved it was not Angela or the girls and I called her in.

“So how was she when the girls were going to bed?” Asked Sandie

“Very emotional. Most of the time she was trying not to cry, then the floodgates burst, - again.”

“And?”

“Well we all started crying, her, the girls and even me. She’s had a rough time.”

“That’s a given. Was she overly possessive?”

“What does that mean. They’re her children for God’s sake. What do you expect her to be after three years of abuse and deprivation?”
Sandie hesitated.

“Yes I put that rather stupidly. No I mean did she seem antagonistic towards you. Was she defensive or possessive? Did she try and insinuate herself between you and the girls?”

“No. I sat on one side of the bed and she sat on the other. She kept hugging them alternately, but I think that’s normal. I think she was just trying to reassure herself that the whole thing was true.
She allowed me to hug and kiss them after I’d read the story then I left her with them. That seemed normal and fair to me.”

“I’ll just check in on the girls then, before I turn in.”

“If you feel that’s necessary. I think I’d better do it. If Angela sees a psychiatrist checking up on her children, while she’s sharing the next room, she might begin to wonder why. If I just look in, it will seem as if I’m just doing my motherly thing like I normally would.”

“Good thinking. I was hoping you’d say that. Just pop down the landing and check.”

I agreed and slipped on my satin blue mules then slipped along the landing. My mules ‘clopped’ softly on the carpet whilst my night attire rustled silkily as I stepped along. With little secrecy I popped my head around the door and found the girls sleeping sweetly. However Angela’s whisper called hoarsely through the separating bathroom.

“Who is it?”

“It’s me, Beverly; I was just making my usual last house round before turning in.”

“Oh. OK then. They’re OK.”

“Yes of course. Goodnight then.”

“Goodnight.”

I withdrew discreetly as Sandie was standing behind me on the landing. We returned to my bedroom at the end of the landing.

“Right. Everything’s in order. She’s sleeping next door to her girls. What could be more normal than that?”

“Nothing. That’s good. I just wanted to be sure. What do you think of her?”
“She seems OK. I’m not a trick-cyclist that’s your department.”

“Are you happy about her staying here?”

“It’s too early to say. She seems OK for now. I can’t say about the future. What happens when she finds out about my transvestism? Which she definitely will eventually.”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”

“I keep hearing that but it doesn’t reassure me.”

“Well what d’you want me to do? I can’t wave a magic wand; I can’t change her basic nature. I’m a doctor not a flippin’ magician!”

Sandie’s reaction pulled me up short. I was being a bit unfair. She was right. The only person who could firstly find out about Angela’s attitude to my transvestism would be me. Then more importantly, I had somehow to get her to like me enough to look past my flaws and see the real person underneath. I sighed resignedly as I pulled back my bed sheets for the second time and Sandie reached across to me. She gave me a peck on the cheek and whispered.

“We’ll get through this. You’re a good person Bev, I’m sure Angela will see that.”

“We’ll see.” I replied as I settled between my sheets. “Good night.”

“God Bless,” replied Sandie as she slipped across the landing to her own room.
In the morning I was awake early. My main question was how the girls would react. ‘Who would they choose to call upon for their usual morning cuddle?’ Would it be Angela or me? I must confess my fears were tinged with a smattering of jealousy. She had the advantage of being right there beside them whilst I was living far down the landing.

As was usual when I was unsettled, I sat on my window seat and savoured the views. I needn’t have worried. At the usual time there was a soft knock on my door and Bea’s face peered around.

“Can we all come in?”

“All?” I replied curiously., “wondering where they had picked up that strange American vernacular.” “Don’t you mean ‘Can we come in?’”

“Mummy’s with us.” Replied Jenny as her head appeared.

“Oh! Yes! Certainly. All of you; come in.”
The door swung wider and Angela stood nervously in the doorway. I smiled and beckoned her in as I stepped towards the bed. The girls needed no invitation and flung themselves onto my king-sized bed to take up their usual positions on either side of me. Angela smiled as she studied the scene then asked.

“Can I join you?”

“Of course. Their bed is your bed, their cuddles are your cuddles.”
Nervously, Angela slid onto the bed and fingered the satin sheets.

“These seem nice. Very luxurious.”

“The girls have the same sheets, I pointed out. We all like soft and silky.”
Jenny supported my remark by pressing the satin pillow to her face and going ‘Mmmmmm!’

Angela smiled wistfully then carefully pulled back the sheet and noticed my bedclothes.

“Gosh you resemble Katherine the Great in all her finery.”

I simply smiled as the girls evidenced their feelings by snuggling closer to me. I became emboldened by the girl’s reactions and patted the pillow beside Bea. Angela accepted the invitation and finally slipped the sheet back to climb in beside Bea.
Jenny immediately felt ‘out of it’ and clambered over me to squeeze herself between Bea and me. Angela glanced at me and smiled.

“We’re like a pair of bookends.”

“Lovely books though,” I replied.

“Mmm. Yes, the very best. I like the way their nighties match yours. Was that your idea?”

“No. They asked for them when they snuggled up against mine.”
Angela turned to Beatrice and hugged her.

“Would you like mummy to wear a nightdress like Beverly’s?”

“Oooh yes!” Evinced an excited Bea. “Then we could have two mummies the same, like Chenille and Martina.”

“Well -,” I swallowed nervously as we approached risky ground, “not exactly like Sian and Margaret darling. Your mummy and me are not married.”

“But you could get married,” added Jennifer.

“Oooh I don’t think so.” I hastily replied, -too hastily-, “I don’t think your mummy is like Aunty Margaret and Sian.”

“But you could get married, if Skipper said so.” Argued Jennifer.

Frantically I diverted the conversation but not before Angela’s ears had pricked up.

“Come on, it’s time to get ready for school. Go and get dressed.”
So saying, I slipped out of my side of the bed and hastily stepped into my en-suite bathroom. There I made a loud show of showering and hoped that the others would have vacated the bed before I returned to get dressed.
When I had finished my toilet, I peeped cautiously around the door and was relieved to see that they had returned to their own bedrooms. Hastily a flung some everyday clothes on and had breakfast on the go as they descended the stairs.
The girls were describing school to Angela and invited her to walk down the lane with the four of them to the bus stop. When she returned Sandie had joined us. Angela poured herself another cup of tea me and studied me with a puzzled look.

“Who’s Martin?”

“Sian’s little boy,” answered Sandie.

“But I thought she had a daughter, Martina.” Replied Angela.

“They are one and the same. Martin is a transitional sexual dysphoric. He is not sure if he’s a girl or a boy.”

“Oh. How curious. He’s quite a sweetie isn’t he?”

“Yes. A delightful child.” Added Sandie.

“What’s going to happen to him?” Pressed Angela.

“How do you mean?”

“Well; will he grow up as a boy or a girl?”

“He doesn’t know yet. He’s stated a clear preference that he wants to live as a girl, but he’s not sure if he wants to be a girl.”

“Oh! How odd. That must be very confusing for him or is it her?”

“It’s Martin at school and Martina in the safety of her home with us adults to protect her.”

“Oh that’s lovely. Isn’t Sian a little disappointed though?”

“She’s never expressed any disappointment to me,” I replied, “in fact it was Sian who suggested that Sandie act as Martina’s physician. Martina’s on hormonal blockers until she’s ready to choose her life-style.”

“Sian seems an eminently caring mother despite her -,”

“Her what?” I interjected.

“Her uuhm -, her lesbianism.”

“Her sexuality doesn’t necessarily impinge on her femininity or mothering skills. Sian and Margaret are very caring mothers.”

“Well -, yes, I must admit, Chenille and Martin were very polite and well behaved as we walked down the lane. Excellent reflections on their mother’s care.”
Sandie smiled.

“They were on their best behaviour.”

“Oh not on my account surely. It’s me who’s on trial surely.”

“We’re all on trial,” I replied, “Sian and Margaret are always under the microscope. Same sex parent-carer’s are still a novelty and there’s always somebody ready to slip the knife in. That’s why Sian and Margaret live out here. There’s less chance of any neighbourly abuse or whatever.”

Angela nodded sagely and finished her tea.

“They were very kind to me last night and made me really welcome. I’d like to get to know them better. They seem a lovely couple.”

“You will if you stay here but it might take a little while. They’re very nervous of any close friendships for all the obvious reasons.. You’ll be living cheek by jowl with them so you’ll have plenty of opportunity. They are a good couple. Martina reflects that.”

“Yes. He was lovely when we walked down the lane and he was so solicitous when we crossed the ford at the stream. He even held my hand as we crossed the stepping-stones. I wish all men could be as caring and gentle as him.”

“Some are.” Remarked Sandie.

I caught her eye and realised Sandie was going somewhere with the conversation so I kept quiet. It turned out that Sandie was gently digging.

“Well if there are,” answered Angela, “they are few and far between. I just cant get over the —‘”

She stopped talking and started sobbing softly. I stepped over and gently held her as her tears grew. Sandie watched like a cat watches a mouse. Obviously, Angela’s experiences in the camp were still too traumatic.

I continued holding her to my soft breasts until she realised her tears were saturating my blouse. The thin wet silk became transparent and my delicate frilly bra began to show. The damp nipple had also become chilled and stiffened as it showed plainly under the transparent filmy material. Angela lifted her head and studied the damp patch as she released me from her embrace.

“Oh! I’m sorry,” she smiled wanly, “here, let me dry that.”
She reached into her bag and pulled out some tissues as she dabbed gently at my breasts. I couldn’t help twitching slightly as the paper wad brushed my chilled damp nipple. I let out a slight gasp and clasped her fingers as I gently claimed the tissue.

“Ah -, I’ll do it. I -,”

She realised my embarrassing situation and courteously pressed the tissue into my hand.

“I’m sorry,” she smiled, “that was silly of me.”

“It’s OK. No harm done,” I replied as I gently pressed the tissue to my breast and waited for it to warm up.

Eventually my nipple subsided and I removed the tissue. Angela studied my nipple still visible through the wet filmy silk and delicate lacy bra cup.

“Have you ever had children?” She asked.

“No,” I replied, “I’ve never had that pleasure.”

“But you’re nipples. They look as though you’ve breast fed a child.”

“Gosh! Can you tell that by just looking?” I replied feigning total innocence.

“Well, it’s the way they look; wouldn’t you agree Sandie?”

“Yes,” replied Sandie, “they have the form and shape of stage five development, that is the areola are well developed but flattish whilst the nipples are well formed and protruding. Angela’s right, Bev, you do look as though you’ve breast fed a child.”
If looks could kill, I would have murdered Sandie right there and then, fortunately, Sian entered with Sylvia and the babies in the twin buggy. Angela was immediately all over the babies.

“Oh aren’t they just sweet! What are their names?”

“James and Belinda,” replied Sian, “James is Margaret’s son and Belinda’s my daughter.

“Gosh they look like twins! They’re so alike!”
Sian glanced cautiously towards me over Angela’s back as Angela bent down to kiss both babies. I nodded and mouthed, ‘just say they are twins.’

“Well they are half twins actually, they share the same father.”

Angela stood up again as Sylvia helped her hold a baby in each arm. She hovered nervously beside Angela who pooh-poohed her concerns.

“I’ve held two babies in my arms before. I’ve had two of my own.”

Sylvia relaxed and smiled then made to pour out two cups of tea from the pot. It was a clear indication that they virtually lived in my house during the day. In fact they had come to discuss preparing lunch because of my extra guests. Angela turned to Sian.

“So these two are twins, in a way.”

“Sort of, they’re half sister and brother and they were born the same day.”

“Oh that’s lovely. Does their father know?”

“Of course. We wouldn’t have it any other way.” Replied Sian cautiously. She was up to speed on the situation.
Angela settled in the big ‘wheel-back’ Windsor chair and rested her elbows on the arms as she ‘ga-ga’d and goo-goo’d over the babies. It was obvious she was entranced be them. Angela clearly loved babies. Finally, she relinquished the babies to the buggy again and we resumed chatting. The conversation turned to living arrangements and I concluded that Angela seemed suitably ‘liberal’ enough to join our ‘man-free’ set up. After lunch, Angela moved her stuff across the yard to live next door to Sylvia’s apartment. This would be until we could get one of my spare bedrooms altered to fit an extra en-suite bathroom. We knew from past experience, that this would take a few weeks and that end of the landing would be a mess with all the building and alterations. Angela was impressed with the arrangements because she would have her own bathroom from the very first day. Later, she and I took the Land rover to pick up the girls and Martin from school.