This chapter describes the developments at Rosy Cottage as the extended family matures and expands. The subjects are quite diverse and touch upon some relatively contentious issues by occidental mores.

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With the honour killings case finally resolved I returned back from the court in Manchester with Angie, Sian and Sylvia.

During our Absence, Mr Turpin and his son had run the stables whilst Mrs Bodkin had cared for the ‘girls’. I could tell the moment we returned that all was not well with Mrs Bodkin.

“Well am I glad to see you!” That Chrissie is a right little madam.

“Oh come now Mrs Bodkin, she’s just your typical fifteen-year-old girl.” I smiled.

“Do you think so? I had to invite Betty over from Bournemouth and sort the little Madam out. Lay down the law to her that I was loco-in-parentis.”

I smiled indulgently. Chrissie had always been a little headstrong, well to be truthful, a lot headstrong. I suppose that once she had come to terms with her sexuality and fought that battle, she felt she shouldn’t have to fight anymore battles.

I tended to side with her on this and perhaps I had been a bit too indulgent. God alone knows, few knew what sort of battles she would have to fight and what roads she had to travel better than I. Even in the few short weeks when we had attended the trial, she had grown yet more feminine, her curves had rounded out and there was no sign of masculinity. I sighed as I made my peace with Mrs Bodkin.

“You’d best be watching the girl Beverly,” warned Mrs Bodkin, “She’s had that poor Turpin boy spinning on a hook nearly every time he’s come over and that’s more than twice a day. The poor boy’s eyes fill up every time he sees her. And you know the dangers. The boy doesn’t know.”

I chewed my lip. I had several times warned Chrissie not to run before she could walk but her drug induced hormones were a far more powerful influence. I was split between a razor sharp rock and a diamond hard place. It was obviously proving useless to try and persuade Chrissie to ‘pull her new-found sexual horns in’ so the other alternative was to put her firmly in her place by enlightening the Turpin boy. I decided that the best way was to let his father know, for after all, Mr Turpin had shown no displeasure when I had ‘come out’ to him. In fact, he had chuckled and trotted out the tired old cliché about ‘not scaring the sheep’, (as opposed to horses,) and then rather thoughtlessly adding that his wife would not be in danger. He must have presumed I was gay because I was transvestite. I was simply relieved and glad that he hadn’t taken umbrage and that he had continued in his ordinary vein of good neighbourliness. Eventually the community at Rosy cottage had developed a good relationship with Mr Turpin’s family and the girls often visited Mrs Turpin for she had no daughters of her own, just her only son Billy. It was Billy who was enjoying Chrissie’s attentions and I was terrified of what he might do if, or more likely, when he found out. When Sian was saying thank-you to Harold Turpin for his kind help during our absences I seized the opportunity to enlighten the man. His jaw sagged slightly when I told him and he smiled softly.

“You’re joshing me!”

“No Mr Turpin. Chrissie is a transsexual.”

“But she’s just so pretty. She’s everything you’d expect of a fifteen-year-old girl.”

“D’you think I should tell Billy?”

“I don’t know. I feel guilty telling you because it lays a burden on your shoulders and I’ve betrayed Chrissie’s trust, but I’ve seen how emotional Billy is and I’d hate for both of them to suffer if he found out the wrong way.” Harry Turpin nodded thoughtfully.

“Are all your girls’ transgendered?”

“Good gracious no! One of the younger girls is but I’m not prepared to disclose who. That would be totally wrong. I’m only telling you about Chrissie because I’m fearful of any consequences. Billy might become very upset and angry.” He wagged his head and smiled.

“Yes. You may be right. Billy’s our only child and his mum does indulge him a bit. D’you know; this place is like a hospital.”

“Well we like to think of it as a refuge. If you want I can tell you Chrissie’s story but it’s not a pleasant one. She has already suffered several severe beatings at the hands of her own parents plus a transphobic attack one on a train. The kid needs somewhere safe to grow up and this is it.”

Harry Turpins’ expression softened.

”Well that’s a good thing Miss Beverly. I can tell this is a good place for kids cos Billy likes coming around here and your girls are a credit to you.”

“Well Billy’s always welcome but I feel he should be made aware. I agree, Chrissie is growing into a stunningly attractive girl but it will be at least another year before she even considers transitioning. As to the kids being safe, well I can only refer you to Andrew and Dot the social services.”

“I don’t need social workers to tell me when kids are safe or not. I’ve got my own eyes to tell me that. Kids are just like dogs. You can soon tell if a dog’s being kicked.” As he said this, my eyes naturally turned to his two sheep-dogs lying easily on the passenger seat of his pick-up. Their eyes met mine, their tails thumped expectantly on the seat and their ears pricked up intelligently as they obviously heard the word ‘dogs’ being voiced.

‘There were two dogs that were obviously totally at ease,’ I thought. Harrys’ eyes followed my gaze and he smiled.

“See what I mean.”

“Yeah Mr Turpin, there’s a lot of sense in what you say.”

He paused thoughtfully then wagged his head as he spoke.

“How long have you known me Miss Beverly?”

“’Bout three or four years now, why?”

“Call me Harry then. We’re neighbours and it’s time we thought of each other as friends.”

“Why thank you so much. You’re just so kind! So Dorset’s not like Yorkshire then.”

He grinned as he opened the door of his pick-up.

“Not quite Beverly, not quite. Few other people on the planet are that reserved. Now where’s that boy of mine?”

As he said the words his face softened to a smile and I turned to follow his gaze. Chrissie and Billy were by the little garden gate ‘canoodling’, as the Americans say. He turned to me again.

“Yes; you’re right. I’d better warn the boy. If only to stop him getting a shock.”

“Well do it soon,” I begged.

He grinned and called to his son. Reluctantly the young pair separated their lips and crossed the yard whilst still hugging each other’s waists. Even after learning of Chrissie’s true condition, Harry Turpin couldn’t help but slip his arm around her shoulders to give her a ‘fatherly hug’ as his son Billy slipped into the passenger seat and the dogs greeted him eagerly. As Harry shook my hand, Chrissie resumed her ‘sucker-fish’ obsession with Billy through the pick-up window and only reluctantly released her attachment as the Pick-up started to roll slowly forward. They were a pair passionately enraptured with the first urgent pangs of desperate teenaged love. I was dreading the situation when Billy learned of Chrissie’s true circumstance, but the truth had to be known. Until she transitioned, Chrissie simply could not deliver!

I watched the pickup disappear down the lane and turned thoughtfully to Chrissie who was still grinning like a Cheshire cat.

“Have you thought what Billy might say or do if he learns about your transsexualism?” The smile faded from her face.

“Dunno’,” she mumbled softly. “I’ll just have to be careful.”

“And what happens if he gets too passionate. It only takes a finger down inside your panties.”

“I know what it takes mummy!” She snapped. “It happened on the train!”

“Have you thought about telling him? Wouldn’t it be a good idea to sound him out?”

She slid into my embrace and whispered nervously.

“I’m too afraid, I’m too afraid to lose him.”

“You’re more likely to lose him if you don’t tell him.”

“How would you tell him? I’m afraid.”

“D’you want somebody else to tell him?”

“I, - I, - think that might be best. D’you think you could do it?”

“I’ll see what I can do. I can’t make any promises about his reactions though. There’s just no knowing.”

We stepped silently and thoughtfully into the cottage where the girls were ‘helping’ Angie to make some cakes for a school function to raise funds. I exchanged smiles with the girls and left Chrissie to slip up to her bedroom as I went to my study to do some paperwork. The Moroccan trade was not doing as well as we’d hoped but there were seasonal factors affecting volumes and we wouldn’t really have an accurate idea of the business until a full year had passed and all the harvests had turned their cycles. There were also other factors like an unexpected demand for Ro-Ro capacity whilst Lo-Lo cargoes hadn’t proved so plentiful. We had not been able to immediately exploit the Ro-Ro demand so things were not quite profitable in Morocco but we had budgeted for two years to build it into profit. An unexpected cost was going to be re-opening the Speedwells’ side ramp that we had sealed up and made inoperable because we hadn’t foreseen the need for such a quick turn-around in Tangiers. It had been a mistake to seal it up but hey! We can’t all see perfectly into our crystal balls. Our biggest concern had been making the ship really staunch and weather-tight for passages across the Bay of Biscay, a notoriously rough place. I was exploring dry-dock facilities on-line when Chrissie reappeared in my office. She was brandishing her mobile and tears were running down her cheeks.

“What’s wrong darling,” I asked half anticipating the reply.

“It’s Billy. He’s found out about me.”

“When?”

“Tonight. His father told him.”

“And what’s his feelings.”

“He’s angry and upset.”

“That’s to be expected. Does he want to see you?”

“He wants to but his mother is upset.”

“Oh! She never struck me as the prejudiced sort. She knows about me.”

“It’s not the transsexual bit. She says that Billy is her only child and she wants grandchildren. I can’t give her any.”

“Mmm. That’s a tricky one.”

“She’s right though isn’t she? Billy stands to inherit the farm.”

“I think this is all a bit premature don’t you. You’re only fifteen and Billy’s only sixteen. D’you think you’re still going to be seeing each other when you’re of marriageable age. I mean Billy’s going to Agricultural college when he’s eighteen. Then there’s another three years of seeing hundreds of other girls and then all through your twenties. I mean it’s a bit previous isn’t it?”

“He still wants to see me.”

“What does his dad say?”

“He doesn’t seem too upset but it’s Billy’s mother’s farm. She inherited it from her father and it goes back generations. She’s really into family and stuff.”

“So when d’you see Billy again?”

“On the school bus, tomorrow morning.”

“That’s not the best place to discuss stuff; there are too many ears in the other seats.”

“We’re in school all day. Billy is bound to want to talk about it as early as possible.”

“If you want to talk about it. Bring him home tomorrow night. If he wants to discuss it, I may be able to throw in a few pointers.”

“What sort of pointers.”

“Oh really Chrissie it’s far too soon to be worrying about stuff like that. You’re only fifteen!”

“So? I can get married at sixteen; what sort of pointers?”

I debated taking the discussion further then I decided to. It would do no harm for Chrissie to have some idea of options and not just medical ones.

“Like him fathering a child by a surrogate mother and then you two adopting it. Billy’s mother would have her full blood grandchild then.”

“It wouldn’t be my blood.”

“No. Indeed it won’t but Mrs Turpin would have her grandchild with Billy’s genes and that mean’s her genes. That’s just one scenario. D’you like children?” I pressed.

“That’s a stupid question mummy you know I do. I love all my sisters to bits.”

“Exactly. Family is all about relationships. Blood may be important and it should provide a firm foundation, but how many of us transgendered souls have found it to be a poison instead of a cement. You have, I have, Uncle Mac did; the list is endless. In the end, friendship, care, compassion and support are more important. Give a child care and support, nurture it and love it and it will reward you a million times. Show Mrs Turpin that you are capable of loving a child as only a mother can, or rather should; and you’ll win her round if you’re actually looking for a permanent relationship with her only son. Don’t forget, she’s frightened that her line might die out if Billy stays with you. There are many people who seem to think like that. I suppose it’s a primordial thing to do with survival. However, don’t make any immediate plans, you’ve years yet before you even contemplate stuff like that.”

Chrissie nodded and smiled.

“I’ll wait.” She said simply.

“Spoken like a real trooper. Now I’m off to bed.”

She nodded sleepily and followed me up. Then she went to her own bedroom and I smiled inwardly. Chrissie was at last regaining some sort of confidence. She no longer needed the companionship and protection of Angie and me at night. Angie was awake reading a novel when I entered.

“You’re early. No problems tonight then?”

“A few, but they’re solvable. Come on can I kootch you?”

Angie put her book down, smiled and turned to face me as I undressed and slid into bed. To our delight and surprise, one thing led unexpectedly to another and we indulged in something that had escaped us since we first started sleeping together. Angie was delighted that her sexuality and body had somehow awakened what we both thought was a long dormant spark in my libido.

“Well, well, well,” she murmured contentedly, “you’re full of surprises aren’t you?”

I said nothing and just burrowed my nose into her soft, warm cleavage. She giggled and squirmed momentarily before we finally found the most comfortable arrangement and after discussing the events of the day and hopes for the future, we eventually fell asleep.

Morning found Chrissie nervous so I offered to drive her to school in the car. I then decided to call Mrs Turpin and ask if she was willing to let me take Billy as well. I could hear her mind ticking then she compromised.

“He can go to school with you provided I accompany you.”

For a moment I thought she somehow didn’t trust me but she sensed the silence at my end and she quickly moved to stem any misunderstandings.

“Look, Beverly; May I call you Beverly? Harry says we’re on first name terms now.”

“Yes,” I agreed nervously.

“There’s no question of me not trusting you or anything like that. Billy’s been coming around to see Chrissie for several months now, not to mention the free riding opportunities he’s enjoyed. But I think there are things that need to be ironed out.”

“Is it the grand-child thing?” I offered.

“Oh. So Billy’s already told you. That’s a good thing; at least he’s being open. Yes, it’s the grand-child thing.”

“He told Chrissie. Chrissie told me.”

“Better still. How’s she taking it?”

“She’s a bit smashed Mrs Turpin. It’s the ‘not being able to do anything about it’ that hurts her.”

Mrs Turpin’s mood softened slightly.

“Oh. I’m so sorry about that. Yes it must hurt her like hell but do you see my point of view. And call me Jane; if Harry’s on first names then we should be. I hope to God we’re not going to fall out over this. I love Chrissie to bits but I so want grandchildren and Billy’s my only hope. There were complications after Billy’s birth and I couldn’t carry any more pregnancies to term.”

“Thank you Jane, so do I hope we don’t fall out over it. Yes, I see your point of view; it just came as a bombshell to poor Chrissie. She’s young and I don’t think she had even considered such things as children. Shall I pick you and Billy up then we can chat over a coffee after delivering the pair to school?”

“Yes, I’d like that. See you shortly.”

I picked them up and as we drove to school I explained the complications to Chrissie. Naturally she sulked but I wasn’t going to plant any seeds of hope in her fertile mind until I had run a few ideas past Jane. She and I watched as the lovebirds entered the school still holding hands and we shared a smile. Even after learning of Chrissie’s true state, Billy was obviously still fond of her.

We took coffee in Sissy’s hotel as we found a quiet corner to discuss the situation.

“I’m not sure I can see a way forward. Billy’s threatened to run away to Gretna Green as soon as Chrissie’s sixteen,” sighed Jane. I hesitated thoughtfully before hazarding the solution I had already run by Chrissie the previous evening.

“There’s only one solution that seems to cover all the wrinkles and address all the issues.” I proposed.

“Well do tell Bev. This sounds interesting.”

“Well firstly you want a grandchild; that is a grandchild of your own blood.”

“Ye-ees,” Jane replied cautiously.”

“So if Billy were to father a child by a surrogate mother, that child would be your grandchild as close genetically as any grandchild you could ask for. As close as any grandchild could be.”

“Ye-ees. But wouldn’t that require a surrogate mother and all that stuff involves law and the social services.”

“Not if the surrogate mother is prepared to let Billy and Chrissie rear the child as their own.”

“And what sort of woman would allow a transsexual to adopt her child?”

“I didn’t say adopt, I said rear the child.”

There was a long pregnant pause as Jane ran the scenarios through her head.

“How do you mean, like some sort of permanent nanny?”

“Yes. Something like that.”

“Go on. I’m intrigued, but I still think you’d be hard put to find a surrogate mother who’d agree to the transsexual thing.”

“Uuhhm, - not that hard put. I move in unusual circles Jane.”

“Well that’s a given. Your family is something else for a start; no offence meant.”

“And none taken. I have a certain potential mother in mind who I’m pretty certain would be amenable to such an arrangement sometime in the future. Preferably when Billy and Chrissie are older”

“Potential mother?” Wondered Jane. “You mean she hasn’t had any children yet.”

“She doesn’t have the time to be a mother in the caring sense of the word, she’s a career girl. But she’s often intimated to me that she would like to leave something of her genes behind.”

“Good God Beverly, you never cease to amaze me. You’re talking of these arrangements as though we were a pair of Asian matchmakers arranging a marriage in some third-world village.”

“Well in truth it is like that, but it’s not some forced union were the partners don’t really want to be wedded. It’s an arrangement that pleases just about everybody.”

Jane smiled and wrinkled her brow in curiosity.

“Would you be prepared to tell me who the surrogate mother might be?”

“Well not just yet Jane. I think it’s only fair that I run the idea past the potential mother don’t you?”

“Yes. That’s fair. Give me a bell when you’ve got some news.”

“That will be before the weekend.”

“Brilliant. So for now then, Billy and Chrissie can continue seeing each other.”

“Why not,” I agreed.

Jane wagged her head and chuckled.

“Do you know it’s amazing! I love Chrissie to bits and Billy’s besotted with her. Here we have a beautiful girl, and I accept her now as a girl Bev; your magic has worked on me, not to mention her personality. And yet, I don’t have to worry about any unfortunate accidents. There won’t be any illegitimate kids before they get married. It’s a surreal situation isn’t it?”

“It can work Jane, and that’s the essential issue, at least that is, if the surrogate mother I have in mind is agreeable. I’m sure she will be.”

Jane’s eyes became moist and she gave a little sniff.

I patted her hand and we retreated to the ladies room for her to repair her makeup. Finally, she gave me a hug and we returned for home. I left her smiling contentedly at the door of her farmhouse before returning to Rosy Cottage.

Once there I immediately approached Sylvia as she was grooming her mare. Having a baby was a topic she had often broached with me soon after she had learned of my fathering two children by Sian and Margaret. Initially she had declared that she would like a child when she was older. She had even asked me if I’d be the father but I had respectfully declined. I explained that she was an attractive girl and she should have no problem finding a donor father.

She had smiled wistfully that day and ruefully declared that she was more concerned with finding a reliable, steady long term partner.

“You’ve no idea Bev, just how promiscuous and unreliable some of us lesbians can be.”

“My jaw had sagged that previous summer afternoon as we chatted whilst we repaired some tack.”

“Good God Sylvia, I thought lesbians made the most loyal of partners. That’s what most women want isn’t it? A long term steady relationship.”

She looked directly at me and sighed wistfully.

“You’d think, wouldn’t you Bev? The problem arises when there’s the question of children as well. Some girls just don’t want to know. I mean I’d have to devote all my time to my own child cos I can’t see many lesbian partners sacrificing their careers. I’d have to give up all this.”

The irony of her words struck an amusing note as she suddenly looked down, studied her stained fingers and broken nails then grinned.

“Yeah, all this.”

“And you don’t want to do you?” I observed, struggling to contain my own chuckles.

“No. I’m too selfish. I’m like Sian; I love the horses too much.”

Well that was how we had left it all those months ago, long before Chrissie and Billy became an item. Sylvia had become even more bound up in the trekking centre and the embryonic riding school and all thought of Sylvia’s motherhood had taken a back seat. Now things had acquired a totally different hue, and a much rosier hue at that. Sylvia listened eagerly as I explained the potential deal and the mutual advantages to all. Her smile widened almost with every word.

“So they’d be living on the Turpin farm and my child or children would only be a few moments away. I could have the child over or visit him or her whenever I wanted.”

“Why yes, I suppose so. And the children would be living amongst a whole bunch of caring adults. Bit like James and Belinda really.”

“Oh Auntie Bev, that’s just so-oo sweet and so practical!”

Sylvia gave me a long hug then kissed me passionately on the lips as my pre-occupied brain finally clicked in.

“Hold on, did you say children?”

“Why yes. I’d like one of each; it seems cruel to bring up an only child. I was an only child and my parents would be over the moon if I gave them grandchildren. Even though they disapprove of me, they never abused me or hurt me. I probably hurt them more; my story’s not like yours or Sians'.” Slowly my mind started to grind rustily as the faintest germ of another idea crawled into my head. Once it formed I broached it immediately.

“If you want two children, would you consider having one by Chrissie?”

“Why. Can still do it? I’d feel like a baby snatcher having her between my legs.”

“There’s no need, she’s deposited sperm at the sperm-bank in Southampton.”

“My God Auntie Bev! You think of everything.”

“No. You’ve got Sandie, Chrissie’s psychiatrist to thank for that. She understands that a lot of angst by parents of transgendered children is often about grandchildren. She told me once in all confidence that although Chrissie’s father was a brute; her mother wasn’t so much concerned with the shame of it all as the loss of the chance to see any grandchildren. Chrissie’s an only child as well. It would be the same scenario for Chrissie as for you. A way forward to reconciliation with parents, or at least those parents who are not abusive and cruel.”

I would never have thought that Sylvia’s smile could have widened any further but it did. Her eyes teared up as she put the finishing touches to her mare’s coat then she turned and fell on me as she squeezed me tight.

“So when’s the wedding?”

“Oh, it’s a while yet. Chrissie has to transition and then register as female, Billy needs to finish agricultural college and he’s only just turned sixteen. I’d say give it five years.

“Oh bloody hell Auntie Bev! I was thinking this year!”

It was my turn to be taken aback as I stared stupidly at Sylvia.

“But Chrissie’s only fifteen! Why all the hurry?”

“My Nan’s very ill. She’s only got a few years and she was the only one to support me when I came out. I’d so love to make her a great grand-mother.”

“Oh.” I finished somewhat taken aback as Sylvia added:

“I’m still seeing my Nan, she’s lovely. My father tried to bully everybody in the family into shunning me but my Nan, my mother’s mother, wasn’t to be deterred. She’s pretty old now and I’d like her to enjoy a great grandchild. Listen I could have Chrissie’s child now to satisfy my own hopes and have Billy’s baby when he and Chrissie are married.” This brought me down to earth with a thump.

“Of course!”

There was absolutely no reason why Sylvia couldn’t make herself pregnant immediately. There was absolutely no need to wait until Chrissie was legally entitled to wed. Any babies born at Rosy cottage were bound to enjoy the abounding support and cherished love of a whole host of extended family. There were five adults including Sylvia and a whole host of adoring ‘siblings’ who would be more than prepared to nurse the babies. After all, Jenny, Bea, Chenille and Martina already played constant nursemaids to James and Belinda while Chrissie was already demonstrating strong maternal instincts towards the toddlers. Plus Jane Turpin would be ecstatic to have a grandchild by Billy and early enough for her to enjoy her grandchild. I smiled knowingly to myself.

‘Why should we be bound by all sorts of outdated conventions like ‘marriage and legitimacy’? Our happy band was already unconventional enough. Provided the new babies received plenty of nurture and loving care they could never be deemed ‘at risk.’

I caught Sylvia smiling at me and recognised that identical thoughts were ticking through her head. We grinned as we recognised each other’s thoughts and we fell to hugging and giggling as the horses gathered around us curiously. It was Sian’s voice that dragged us back to reality.

“Are these horses finished?”

“Not yet. I’ve got to feed them their supplements.” Sylvia replied as we reluctantly separated.

Sian looked at me quizzically. To find Sylvia and me in such a tight passionate embrace was to say the least unusual, especially in the stable block. Yes, I was a partner in the trekking centre, and of course I was totally free to come and go, but these days I rarely ventured into the stable block unless it was necessary or I was invited by Sian or Sylvia or unless the children dragged me. I was the sleeping partner and I had plenty to occupy my time elsewhere. As Sylvia skipped onto the buggy to deliver the supplemental pellets, Sian turned to me.

“What was that all about?”

“Oh emotional stuff. It’s a bit private just yet but you’ll soon get to know.”

Despite being simply friends, Sian tended to be protective of Sylvia. Almost a mother substitute.

“It’s not going to hurt her is it?”

“I shouldn’t think so. She’ll probably tell you tonight if you move softly and ask tactfully. Her hormones are raging.” Sian grinned.

“Her hormones have been raging since I met her. She brings a different girl home every month.”

“Maybe she hasn’t found Miss Right yet.”

“Happen so, I don’t think she knows entirely what she wants.”

I kept silent. I knew pretty much exactly what Sylvia wanted. Despite my femininity, Sylvia treated me very much like a caring understanding father when she wanted advice and support. She knew I had well and truly ‘walked the walk’ and my advice tended to be impartial, non-judgemental and above all, useful. She once told me she loved the fact that I could be as caring and sensitive as any woman she had ever met and yet I had that ‘hard-headed’ manly business side that so appeared to her like a man would be. My activities in shipping impressed Sylvia.

Sylvia felt she had been judged ever since she bravely had come out to her parents in her earliest teens and she had felt since then that she had nobody to turn to. Now, when she sought practical workable solutions, she often found them at my door. Solutions seemed to be my forte’ these days. Our most recent tete-a-tete had demonstrated this to her. She could fulfil her motherly ambitions and yet keep her lifestyle and her current job. Additionally, her children would always be there for her to cherish whilst also being wanted and loved by those who would necessarily take the future carer’s part. The solution for her was at once emotionally perfect and yet practical.

A few days later Sian spoke to me over a cup of coffee in my kitchen.

“She’s told me about that chat you had the other day.”

“Oh; the baby thing.”

“Yes. It’s brilliant! She has her babies when she’s young and yet she gets oodles’ of adult support. Sometimes Beverly, you astound me.”

“Well, it’s early days yet. I don’t think there should be any moves on it until Chrissie is turned sixteen. “

“Why’s that? I thought the first child would be Billy’s and he’s already nearly seventeen.”

“Does Billy realise what it entails. Sylvia’s adamant it’s got to be a ‘turkey-baster’.”

“Yeah, that girl doesn’t take any prisoners. She was badly treated by the boys in school because they accused her of being a prick teaser. She just wasn’t interested in boys and her only crime was to be one of the prettiest girls in the school. The boys tried so hard and so often it was inevitable that eventually Sylvia felt forced to ‘come out’ if only to garnish some peace. She’s very bitter about it all because even her parents didn’t know. It isn’t always the best thing to be one of the prettiest. Now she has a hard time trusting anybody because the moment she was out, she started getting the same unwanted attention from every lesbian on the block; and they can be even more persistent bullies than the boys.”

“Poor bloody kid. Is that why she rarely goes out these days?”

“Yes, the last girl nearly raped her. Sylvia’s only just regaining her confidence. She comes out with Margaret and me nowadays as she regains confidence again. It’s sad to watch her always return to our company if any girl comes onto her. She’s always terrified that they’re only after sex.”

“What does she want?” I asked, - “long term that is?”

“What do most girls want. A stable happy relationship.”

“Well she’s not likely to find that by clubbing all the time is she?” I observed.

“So where else can a girl go to find like-minded partners.” Sian asked.

“Has she tried a dating agency?”

“She’s tried the internet but it’s just as bad. No responses until she posts her picture then it’s fire-works. She’s shown me, it’s unbelievable. Sometimes I think there’s more lesbian predators out there than paedophiles.”

“But she’s only twenty. I mean there’s years yet,” I countered.

“Tell that to Sylvia. She’s desperate to find a long-term partner, she’s sick and tired of being on her own since she was fourteen.”

“What! Surely she wasn’t thrown out? I thought her parents tolerated her.”

“Oh yes, they tolerated her but she was lonely. She couldn’t openly take her gay friends home. She had to pretend they were straight.”

“So, plenty have been there Sian. Your own story is worse than that.”

“Yeah, but at least I was eighteen before they threw me out. Sylvia ran away at fifteen.”

I shrugged. Fifteen had seemed an age when I was first torn from the family. Sian sensed my seemingly callous indifference and she frowned.

“It still hurts even at eighteen Bev, it must have been brutal for a fifteen-year-old,”

“And six?” I replied dismissively.

“Yeah, well that’s another league love. Even I can’t get my head around that.”

I decided to change the subject and get back to Sylvia, Billy and Chrissie. It was never any use dwelling on my past.

“Sylvia wants’ a child now.”

“How so, how would she manage?”

“If it’s Billy’s child, Mrs Turpin would be desperate to help care for the child, at least until Billy’s old enough to have adult input himself.”

“That would put the child at five or six before Billy’s ready to take up full fatherhood duties.”

“So? The kid would have Sylvia as mother, Jane Turpin as grandmother, Chrissie as carer later to become adoptive mother and me, don’t forget me. I’ve reared kids as well you know. Oh; and there’s Billy as a father later on, plus Harry, the baby’s grandfather. Seems to me any kid born around here would be better off than most.”

“Plus me and Margaret, and Angie and then there’s the girls,” Sian added, “they’re of an age to take the baby for walks in the pram.”

“They won’t be here next year though, they’re starting at St Angela’s over the way.”

“Yes. I’m going to miss them.”

“Oh it’s not that bad Sian, they’re only ten minutes away by car. Only fifteen minutes by horse-back over the Dumplin; and they’ll be home each evening. It’ll be no different from now unless they decide they want to board. Even then they can come home weekends.”

Sian grinned.

“Yes your right, the baby will be spoiled rotten. Lucky little bugger.”

“So what about when Sylvia’s out of action when she’s carrying?”

“We’ll have to employ a temp. We could do with an extra hand anyway. This place is getting busier.” Sian replied. Sian was right about that. Already I had plans in hand with Mr price to extend the parking for the weekend trekking business. We had done a deal with Mr Turpin who had applied for an agricultural grant for a barn with hard concrete standing out of site behind the stable block. An extra concrete access apron behind the dormitory block would serve perfectly as additional parking, come the weekends.

Because he now had a readily available market in grain feed at our stables, Mr Turpin had decided to plant oats and wheat as feed stock for the horses. It was a perfect back-to-back arrangement. The barn was to store the grain. Apart from the extensive paddocks we used for the horses, most of the land we had rented out to him was put to the plough whilst the remainder was given to sheep to supplement his own holdings. Our relationship with the Turpin family was becoming positively incestuous, both financially and by blood.

The blood relationship resolved itself within a few short weeks of Sylvia deciding to exercise her right to motherhood.

With the knowledge and blessing of his parent’s, (after due discussion and agreement) Billy was invited to supply his sperm to advance Sylvia’s ends.

This done it was but a couple of months before Sylvia’s fecundity was confirmed. She was pregnant with a baby boy.

Everybody was ‘cock-a-hoop’ with the news, particularly Billy who was to become a father before he had to face the rigours of adult parenthood. Before he was able enough and mature enough to face those rigours.

The extended ‘tribal village’ culture of Rosy cottage was proving the excellence of the support system. Billy could yet go to college knowing that a support system for his son Michael was well and truly in place provided by six adult women and a grandfather.

A couple of years later, the same would be true for Chrissie. Her frozen sperm would be supplied by the sperm bank while she herself was undergoing SRS. When she and Billy were finally married, even if it was put off until their twenties, they would have a ready-made blood related family to call their own.

Not surprisingly, Sylvia’s parents were both stunned and ecstatic to receive unexpected news of their ascent into grand-parentage. They desperately wanted to come and visit their grandson Michael but Sylvia, like Sian, was hurt and wary of revealing her whereabouts to those parents who had so cruelly shunned her in her vulnerable years.

Just like Sian, Sylvia was afraid that her parents might somehow try to take her child away under the claim that Sylvia wasn’t a fit parent. Sylvia did however; secretly take Michael to see his great-grandmother, namely Sylvia’s beloved grandmother, and the old lady was even invited to the Christening.

At the church, she met the Turpins and Billy and she was thoroughly enamoured of the family. It was that day that she decided to endow Michael and any further issue by her grand-daughter, with her estate, for both Sylvia’s mother and Sylvia had been only children.

Later that Sunday afternoon, when she was enjoying the Christening lunch at Rosy cottage, she burst into tears and declared her own latent bisexuality that she had suppressed for nearly eighty years. It was a wonderful but tearful day for Sylvia and her grandmother.

A year later the dear old lady was to learn that she was to be a great-grand-mother again for Sylvia had ‘jumped the gun’ in her eagerness to get motherhood over and done with while she was young enough to enjoy her children.

Sandie had helped facilitate the invitro-fertilisation while I had funded it. The Moroccan trade had slowly turned into profit and I was in funds again.

Chrissie and Sylvia’s daughter Amelia was born only eighteen months after her half brother James.

The winds seemed set fair for all at Rosy cottage.