Alistair’s Beard                  by: Debbie Cybill

 

IRIS was starting to wonder why she had ever come to this so-called reunion at all. The American Peace Corps was a little different; some of their volunteers did seem more gregarious, but the British Volunteer Service Overseas - VSO - sent new university graduate volunteers out on individual assignments, and they rarely met any others of their group after the initial brief orientation sessions. She could remember meeting no-one here at this ‘re-union’. Some re-union!

"Hi! You must be my long-lost sister."

"I beg your pardon!" She turned to look at a slightly younger girl with a mischievous face, reddish hair like her own, trim figure.

"Just kidding. I saw your name-tag. She pointed to hers. "I rarely see another Caerleon. It’s not a common name. And we both have flowers for first names."

Iris relaxed and laughed. "Amaryllis E. Caerleon. I’m glad to meet you, Amaryllis. But what do your friends call you? Not Amaryllis in full, surely?"

"Actually they do. At school, a few kids called me ‘Hippo’, not because I was fat, but because of the full name of the plant, Amaryllis hippeastrum. What did you do with VSO?"

"I went to Tanzania straight after I finished my bachelor’s degree and worked as an agricultural extension officer. After 18 months I came back and took a journalism degree. Now I’m one of the editors of a monthly magazine. How about you, Amaryllis?"

"I taught English for VSO in Venezuela. Now I’ve just finished my doctorate and been offered a job as assistant professor of English there. Mom doesn’t want me to go, but Aunt Diana is all for it. I’m off in a couple of months."

"What does your father think about it, Amaryllis?"

"My father died when I was tiny. I don’t remember him at all. Mom and Aunt Diana brought me up. They’re lesbians. I don’t know if it’s supposed to be catching, but I’m anything but." She laughed.

Iris stiffened. "What does your middle initial stand for, Amaryllis?"

"Eliot. Like the poet, with one ‘l’ and one ‘t’. It’s Mom’s name, Prudence Eliot."

"Then we may actually be sisters, after all, Amaryllis. At least half-sisters. But if we are, your father’s not dead."

"What do you mean, Iris?"

"Is your mother a geologist?"

"Yes. And so’s Aunt Diana. What’s that got to do with it?"

"I think we should leave this stupid party and go and have a decent drink at my place. We’ve a lot to talk about, you and I. My flat’s just around the corner. Don’t worry. I’m not a lesbian either."

Iris uncharacteristically busied herself about her flat, tidying up, then poured them both a stiff whiskey, uncertain how to begin. "My father told me that after he and my mother split up he lived for a time with a lesbian couple called Prudence and Diana. Prudence Eliot was a colleague of his - he’s a geologist too - and the two women wanted a baby. He apparently made a pact with them that he would make no attempt to contact any child he fathered, leaving it to them to rear as their own." "And you think I may be that child?"

"It certainly seems like it, don’t you think?"

"You must tell me more, Iris." She picked at the paper napkin with which she was holding her glass, tearing it to shreds.

"I don’t know any more, I’m afraid. I’m astonished that I even remembered the names. I think you must come and visit Alistair before you go to South America."

"Who’s Alistair?"

"My father. Yours too, I suppose. He lives in Sweden now, director of a laboratory. He married again, a Norwegian woman called Ingrid. She’s sweet; you’ll like her."

"I can’t go to Sweden just like that."

"I’m going next week for a long weekend. Why don’t you come with me?"

"Even apart from dropping in on people I don’t know at all, there’s the matter of the expense. I’ve never had a chance to earn a salary, and I’m broke until I get my first pay-check in Caracas."

"Oh, bother the expense. I’m well paid and I have no children. Let me pay for you. Though come to think of it Alistair will probably insist on paying. The fare’s not much, anyway. And as for dropping in on people you don’t know, why, they’ll welcome you with open arms, even if you turn out not to be Alistair’s daughter. You must come."

Without waiting for a reply Iris picked up the phone. "Hi, Ingrid, it’s Iris here. Is Alistair around?"

"No he is not, my dear. He is in Stockholm at a meeting of the Academy." A note of alarm came into her voice. "You are not canceling your visit are you?"

"Not at all, Ingrid. It’s just that I want to bring a friend with me, if that’s all right."

"Oh, good. I will make up the blue bedroom for you."

"No. It’s not that kind of friend. We don’t want a double bed. In fact if you have no-one else staying we should prefer separate bedrooms. If that’s not possible put us in the green room with the twin beds."

"I may have to do that, Iris." She sounded disappointed. "Well we shall meet you at the ferry in Malmö as usual. What flight are you taking to Köbnhavn?" She pronounced it in the Swedish manner - Shkerbenhaown.

"We shall take the usual flight to Copenhagen, and should be on the ferry which crosses to Malmö to arrive at 13:15. See you then, dear." She replaced the phone.

"Well that’s all settled, Amaryllis. Meet me here at 8:15 next Friday morning."

"But . . ."

"Never mind the buts. You must meet your father at last."

INGRID met them at the ferry terminal that Friday. "Alistair sends his regrets, but he will see you at home."

She gave Iris a great bear hug and kissed her on both cheeks, then turning to Amaryllis, did the same to her. Her robust friendliness was overwhelming.

"I expected Iris to bring a boy-friend. She usually does, but she never settles down with any one of them for very long. What do I call you, my dear?"

"My name is Amaryllis, Mrs. Caerleon."

"Oh, do call me Ingrid. Everyone else does. Now come along."

Iris insisted that Amaryllis should sit in the front seat, nexdt ot Ingrid, while she sat in the back seat of the Volvo station wagon. An hour up the coast they reached the Caerleon home, a wooden house set in the tiny coastal village of Fiskebackskil, all the houses of wood, even the white-painted Lutheran church, and there, in the family home, they met Alistair.

"Alistair, this is Iris’s friend Amaryllis. I am putting them together in the green room. They wanted separate rooms, but with Karen and Lisbe here we cannot do it."

Alistair hugged both girls tickling them with his beard. "Dinner’s ready. I’m sorry, we eat early hereabouts, and I’ve got used to it. We just take the one meal, a combined lunch and dinner. In the family we call it ‘duncheon’."

"Sounds good to me. I’m starving." Amaryllis was rapidly losing her shyness in the warmth of her welcome.

After duncheon Alistair proposed an akvavit. "I’m not working this evening, in honour of your arrival."

They sat in front of a roaring log fire. Iris decided it was time to begin. "Alistair, I have something to tell you. Amaryllis’s full name is Amaryllis Eliot Caerleon. Her mother is Prudence Eliot and lives with Amaryllis’ Aunt Diana."

"I suspected as much, Iris, as soon as I heard her first name and looked at her features. She has her mother’s chin and, unfortunately for her, my nose. So they’re still together are they?"

"Prudence and Diana? Yes, they are."

"Can you tell us more about it all. Prudence told her that her father was dead."

"I’ll tell you how I came to grow a beard. Will that do?"

THE LAB was too hot. The coffee room was no better. I simply could not work, and sat nursing a cup of rapidly cooling coffee, sunk in misery, brooding; 1962 was proving to be a bad year for me.

"What’s up Alistair? You look like a wet Sunday in Hyde Park."

"Oh, hello, Prudence. I don’t feel like one; I feel worse - like an old newspaper left out in the rain in Hyde Park."

"As bad as that, eh? Why don’t you tell Auntie Pru all about it?"

"Not here. I do need to unburden myself, but let’s walk outside."

The sun was warm, and Hyde Park only a few steps away. We strolled there, still wearing our lab coats, and sat on the grass, under an old horse chestnut tree, which perfumed the air around as the birds sang in its branches.

"Now tell me what the trouble is."

"You know I’ve been struggling to keep my marriage from foundering, Prudence."

"Yes, you told me your wife’s caught a bad dose of religion, Alistair."

"Well a few weeks ago she announced that since God had ordained sexual intercourse for the procreation of children, we would stop having sex since she did not intend to have any more children. She seemed to think that intercourse would be sinful in those circumstances."

"The stupid woman."

"It’s two months since we had sex. And ‘had sex’ is the right way to put it. There was no way it could be described as ‘making love’. Last night we both blew up in frustration. We had a blazing row and she threw me out of the house. I slept in the lab last night."

"Do you think you can make it up with her? Given time I mean."

IRIS intruded on Alistair’s narration. "Mother is a good woman, Alistair. I can’t believe she acted like that. She spent more time on her her church work that she did on us her children, but she loves us."

"Of course she loves you, Iris, and once upon a time she loved me too. When you were born we loved each other very much. But when love dies it is replaced by other less desirable emotions.

Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned,

Nor hell no fury like a woman scorned.

Your mother felt that I scorned her when I refused to abandon my belief in evolution, which after all is the basis of my whole research carerr. I could not believe that every word of Genesis was literally true."

"I’m sorry, Alistair. I should not have interrupted. Please continue your tale."

Alistair picked up his account where he had left off, answering Prudence’s question.

"The way I feel now I’m not sure I even want too. But I’ll stay away for a few days, if I can find somewhere to live, and then try again."

"You could always come and stay with us. Diana and I have a spare room, and she won’t mind."

"Oh, I’d be imposing too much."

"Not at all. That’s settled then. You come home with me tonight and we’ll make up the spare bed. You do know that Diana and I are lesbians don’t you? Do you mind staying with a couple of lezzies?"

"You’re a dear, Prudence. If Diana is as sweet as you are it will be an honor to share your home with the two of you. I’d love to come and stay for a few days while I sort myself out. I feel better for telling you all this. I suppose we’d better get back to work."

I rose from the grass and offered a hand to help Prudence up, then kissed gently her on the cheek. She brushed my long hair out of my eyes and combed my bangs with her fingers.

"God! My hair needs washing. It feels greasy."

"You look all crumpled too, as if you’d slept in your clothes."

"I did."

Diana proved almost as welcoming as Prudence, and I began to feel that this was the sort of peaceful home I really needed, not the bible-quoting acrimonious shrewish place my own home had become. Five days later I returned there to attempt a reconciliation, trousers freshly pressed, a new shirt, my old tweed jacket.

"How dare you come here, unless you intend a full reformation and respect and obedience for the laws of God? The Bible says . . ."

I switched off, refusing to take in anything more. I simply turned my back on the tirade, went to the bedroom, followed by the religion-haunted virago that my once-loved wife seemed to have become, and threw what clothes I could into a suitcase.

"Can I stay a little longer with you, Prudence?"

"It didn’t work then, your attempted reconciliation?"

"It was worse than ever. I must come to terms with the idea that my marriage is ended and start thinking about where I am to live now."

"Diana and I have enjoyed having you with us. We were talking about it just last night in bed. We both enjoy your company. And you’ve done a few chores for us that we were postponing."

"Do you mean to say that it’s not just out of the goodness of your hearts that you’ve been putting up with me? I can’t have been very good company in my present state of mind."

"Believe it or not, even though we knew you were in the dumps, we really have enjoyed your company. And now you’ll put it behind you, and become even better company. Plan on staying with us for a couple of months at least."

"I don’t know how to thank you, Prudence. I would love to stay with you both. Your home is so peaceful after what I’ve become used to. But I really must look for a place of my own very soon."

Day by day I put off looking for a flat, encouraged in this by both Prudence and Diana. As the summer slowly turned to autumn, I was still in their home, helping prepare the house for winter, caulking around the windows, where the old putty had long since perished, helping harvest the vegetables and turn over the garden beds, cleaning the furnace and the eave troughs, assisting the two women in canning vegetables and making jam. Gradually too I took more interest in my work, bringing a fresh creativity to my research, instead of mechanically pursuing established routine work.

"Alistair, I have a delicate request to make of you."

"Prudence, I owe you so much I would do anything to help."

"You know Diana and I have tried to adopt a baby?"

"And the adoption agencies won’t allow it. Yes you told me."

"Diana can’t bear the idea of a man touching her, at least in that way, and we love each other dearly."

"But you both accept my touches. You kiss me goodnight, every evening."

"But that’s different. Those are kisses of friendship, not sexual at all."

"Yes, that’s true, Prudence. Though I must say I do feel attracted to you. Don’t bite my head off for that - I won’t rape you or anything."

"Actually that makes my request a little easier. It’s not merely the adoption agencies that won’t have anything to do with us, but also the artificial insemination people. We’ve been trying for that too, but just this week we’ve had a final and categorical ‘No’. We are not even allowed to have a baby that way."

"I’m so sorry, Prudence. I wish I could help in some way."

"But you can. If you are willing, that is. You see, although I am lesbian, I am not so averse to a man’s touch as is Diana. Could you bring yourself to sleep with me and try to give me a child?" She had trouble saying it. "A daughter that Diana and I could call our own? One we could rear without any father?"

"Oh, my dear, of course I would. I would be very gentle too. It would be no penance for me; I really am attracted to you, though I had not thought about it in any sexual sense."

"Well," she blushed, "Two nights hence is the day of my cycle when I should be most fertile. I’ll come to your bed then." She turned and hurried from the room, seemingly too embarrassed to say anything more.

It was about 10:30 when the door opened and Prudence crept in, wearing just a night gown. I had turned off the light, but had the curtains open a crack allowing in a little light from the moon. I got up from the chair where I had been sitting and, without saying a word, I took Prudence by the hand and led her towards the bed, where we both sat on the edge. I kissed her gently on the mouth and she opened her lips to me. I shrugged off my bath-robe, standing naked before her.

"Would you mind doing it with me on top, Alistair. That way I can pretend you are another woman."

I lay down on the bed and held out my arms to her.

Pru lowered herself onto my prick without any fore-play. She was surprisingly wet, and I supposed she had been aroused by her lover before coming to me. I slipped in easily. I tried to let her do all the work, but after a few strokes I had to join in until I was fucking her vigorously. I came, but Prudence did not, I noticed, but then I would not have expected her to. My penis slowly lost its turgidity and slipped out.

"There! That wasn’t too bad was it? Was I gentle enough?"

"You are so sweet to do this for me, Alistair. I was terrified. I don’t think I could have gone through with it if you had been on top. You were so gentle."

"I didn’t do it just for you, Prudence. I did it for myself too; I have been too long without sexual intercourse. But I won’t force myself on you at any time. If we have not succeeded in making a baby this time we’ll try again, if you can bring yourself to do it. I know it was hard for you."

"Thank you, Alistair. I must go back to Diana, now. She will be anxious to know how it went. Besides, I need an orgasm too. From her."

Indian summer passed into autumn. In late October Prudence found she was not pregnant after all. For Guy Fawkes night, November the fifth, we built a bonfire in the garden, roasted chestnuts and potatoes and set off fireworks. Henry and Joanna, a couple of friends came around. Then rosy-cheeked and excited we came indoors to drink rum punch.

After Joanna and Henry left I kissed both girls on the cheek and hugged them, and then we all retired to bed. Half an hour later the door opened and Prudence entered wearing a satin and lace night-gown, and with a bundle in her hand. I leapt naked out of bed and kissed her. She looked bashful.

"Could you make things a little easier for me this time, Alistair."

"Was I too rough last time?"

"It’s not that. It’s just that I have difficulty still, relating to you as a man." She hesitated and then rushed on. "Would you wear a night-gown? I have one here, just like mine."

"If it would help you, Prudence dear, then of course I shall." I raised my arms and she slipped it over my head. It was a long gown and I had to raise the skirt quite high to expose my prick and let Prudence lower herself.

It was another month before she came to me again. This time I was ready, wearing the night-gown, though I generally slept naked. The following day was Sunday, when the women usually came down to breakfast in their night-dresses and robes. I had given the situation some thought and rose early that day and made breakfast for the three of us, eggs Benedict with orange juice, grapefruit and coffee. When Diana and Prudence came down, hand in hand, they found me at the stove wearing a frilly apron over the night-gown Prudence that had given me and a new lacy robe I had bought for the occasion. Diana smiled, came over to me and, without a word, gave me a kiss on the cheek.

"Here, these are for you." I handed them both neatly wrapped packages and they found that I had bought matching robes for both of them, so all three of us could wear the same. After breakfast Prudence cleared away and put everything in the dish-washer.

"Diana, I know you dress Prudence’s hair for her. Would you do mine, for me? It would be fun to wear it in a feminine style just for the weekend."

Diana giggled nervously. "Well, I’ll try. I think I should trim your bangs first."

I always wore my hair long in those days, the sixties, and my hair was past my shoulder blades. I had no bangs, but my hair often drifted over my face. Diana cut my front hair to make bangs, trimmed the loose ends at the back and set my hair in rollers. She tied a scarf around my head. "You will have to keep the rollers in for a couple of hours, Alistair."

I decided this was the moment to give the kitchen a good scrubbing, after which Diana removed the rollers and brushed my hair into a succession of waves either side of a central parting with a barette over each ear and bangs coming down to cover my eyebrows.

"What are we going to do for Christmas this year?"

"Let’s spend it here. Do we want any friends in?"

"We could invite Joanna and Henry. They were good fun on Guy Fawkes night."

"Five of us is plenty. I’m assuming you’re going to be with us, Alistair?"

"If I would not be intruding I should appreciate it."

"Hark at him! Intruding, indeed! ‘Appreciate’ it. Anyone would think he’d swallowed a dictionary."

We set about preparing the menu. Prudence, who loved to sew, starting making Christmas outfits for us all. A week before Christmas we drove out into the country to find a tree, and then Diana and I spent all Sunday decorating it while Prudence sewed furiously. A visit to the local farmers’ market, then Christmas Eve was a fury of baking; I stuffed the goose with rosemary, sage, onions and chestnuts and marinated it in blueberry juice and olive oil with spices, Diana baked mince pies, Prudence peeled potatoes, storing them in a pan of water and lemon juice for the next day, cleaned Brussels sprouts, scraped carrots. Then came the delightful task of placing wrapped gifts under the tree. In the evening we walked over to Joanna and Henry’s house and drank egg nog with them, well laced with rum.

Prudence came to my bed that night, even though it was not her most fertile period. Next morning we breakfasted lightly, all three in night-gowns and lace robes.

"How are you two dressing for dinner?"

"I hope you are going to dress the same as us, Alistair; white shirts - men’s shirts - with red and green ties, ankle-length scarlet velvet skirts with appliqued green trees."

"It’s all very well dressing like this when it’s just the three of us, but do you expect me to wear a skirt when there is another man present?"

"Henry will be dressed the same. I made five skirts, and Joanna agreed. Especially when I told her you would be dressed the same!" She gave a mischievous grin. "Oh, and I have the underwear for you, bra, girdle, lace panties and stockings. And pads for the bra."

"Oh, my God."

I had put the goose in the oven the next morning and was still examining the underwear when Prudence marched into my bedroom, fully dressed. "This is not just a girdle, it’s a fully boned corset."

"Let me help you. You need a corset; you have no proper waist."

She picked up the corset, fastened it around me and drew the laces tight. "Sit down and I’ll help you on with your stockings. I don’t want you laddering them."

She drew them up over my legs and clipped them to the garters of the corset. "Now put on your panties then we’ll see to the bra. I bought you a new shirt, one size larger than you normally take, to allow room for the bra."

"Here, let me re-knot your tie for you, Prudence. If you are going to go about in menswear in this androgynous manner, you need a properly knotted tie."

"Now we have to see about make-up and hair. Come to our bedroom and Diana and I will put the finishing touches. She needs to do my hair too and I will do the make-up for all three."

She began by trimming my eye-brows, which were a little bushy, and plucking them lightly along the lower edge, then stroked my cheek. "You’d better go away and shave again, Alistair, while Diana does my hair."

Green eye-shadow and mascara brought out the color of my eyes, a light foundation covered my rather light beard, and blusher on my cheeks changed the shape of my face. A final touch of lip-stick and outline pencil and then Diana started on my hair, parting it in the centre and drawing it back with two combs. My newly-trimmed bangs came just to the tops of my eye-brows. Prudence knelt down and I felt her putting shoes onto my feet for me.

"I hope these are big enough not to be too uncomfortable. They were the biggest I could get." I stood up, and found I was now wearing pumps with two-inch heels.

"No, they seem to fit. But what are you doing to me?"

"Just trying to turn you into a lesbian like us! We’re going to have to give you a girl’s name now you’re dressed like one. I think I’ll call you Cybill."

I shrugged in resignation. I should never have agreed to wear that night-dress that first time. "I’m off to the kitchen to get on with the cooking."

"You’ll find a package with a Christmas apron on the table."

I did indeed, an apron with a gaudy Christmas scene printed on plaid taffeta, and fringed with lace ruffles.

Joanna was as good as her word. Henry - Harriet for that day - was dressed like the rest of us. They came loaded with gifts, which they placed under the tree, and half a dozen bottles of champagne. The smells of the roasting goose were permeating the dining room, and by three o’clock, when we had finished our cocktails, we were all ready for it. Prudence brought in the smoked salmon, with capers, sliced onions and thin brown bread and butter, in the English style, while ‘Harriet’ opened the first bottle of champagne. Then Diana and ‘Cybill’ put on their aprons and, after clearing the first course, brought in the goose and all the trimmings, gravy and vegetables, roast potatoes, the traditional Brussels sprouts, and the non-traditional okra and black-eyed peas.

Still in my apron as Cybill, I carved the goose, we all pulled crackers and put on the paper hats and started into the feast proper. Harriet poured more champagne.

"Did Joanna make you wear a corset, Henry?"

"It’s ‘Harriet’, remember." interjected Joanna "Yes I did make him wear a corset. Can’t you see, Cybill?"

"Yes, she did. And I don’t know how I’m going to do justice to this meal if I can’t spread."

"I was thinking the same. I’m going to have to ask Prudence to let out the laces a little. Or a lot."

"If I do you’ll burst the waist-band of your skirt."

"How did you let them talk you into this caper, Cybill?"

"By telling me that you would be going along with them, of course, and dressing the same way."

"Joanna told me the same about you. I wouldn’t have done it else."

Joanna grinned. "Oh, come on, Harriet. It’s not the first time you’ve cross-dressed. I’ve seen you in drag many times before. Besides, you’re not even fully en femme today, you’re wearing a man’s shirt and tie."

"Yes, but over a padded bra."

"But we’re all partly in drag," said Prudence. "I designed it that way. An outfit that was partly feminine and partly masculine."

"Let’s clear away the debris of this course and get on with the next."

"Changing the subject!"

I poured hot brandy over the Christmas pudding, bringing it in aflame, while Diana brought in the hard sauce and a platter of hot mince pies. Harriet poured more champagne. Then came caviar, Stilton cheese and port. We all took a second glass of port to sit around the fire near the tree, and started opening presents.

I gave Prudence and Diana matching peignoir sets, peach satin and lace, with tiny pleats, and to Joanna and Harriet the latest Beatles record.

Joanna’s gift to me was a silk teddy. "Prudence told me that you were beginning to wear feminine clothing around the house and bedroom, and I thought you might like this. It’s from both of us, and Harriet chose it for you. He often wears one just like it at home."

Prudence’s gift to her lover was a pin-striped pants-suit, cut like a man’s business suit, while Diana reciprocated with pearl-drop ear-rings in 18-carat gold. The two of them had combined resources to give Joanna and Harriet the newest kitchen gadget, a Cuisinart food processor, which had just come on the market, each receiving a silver pencil and ball-point set in return.

"What did you two give each other, Joanna?"

"Henry, I mean Harriet, gave me this ring," extending her hand and showing a simple hoop set with 20 emeralds, "And I gave him a gold chain and pendant. Show it to them, Harriet."

Harriet fished inside his collar and pulled out a delicate gold chain from which hung a pendant in the form of a gold letter J with an opal in the hook of the letter and the stem studded with tiny diamonds, a rather feminine object. J for Joanna I surmised.

By now we were surrounded by torn paper and wrappings. I started to gather them up and feed them into the fire. "Let me fill your glass, Diana."

"You haven’t opened our presents, Cybill." Prudence rose gracefully to her feet and fetched two packages, one large and one small, from behind the tree. "Here’s my gift to you, Cybill, and this one’s Diana’s."

I tore the wrappings from Prudence’s present first and held up a silk evening dress, a pale green, side-draped cut, bare on one shoulder, with a single long sleeve on the opposite side, cut quite narrow, ankle length, and a voluminous matching taffeta evening cape, with a portrait collar. I looked confused.

"You are quite determined to make me dress like a woman, I see. When do you intend me to wear this outfit."

"We are all going out to a New Year’s Eve Ball next week. I hoped you two boys would go dressed like that. We shan’t meet anyone we know."

I looked at Harriet, who shrugged in resignation. "This is the first I’ve heard of it, but I guess it’s too late to object."

"Well, thank you very much, Prudence, for this lovely present. Do I take it that the ticket for the Ball is part of the gift?"

"It is, Cybill, and so is the underwear to go with the dress. Now open Diana’s present."

That proved to be a pair of gold hoop ear-rings, for pierced ears.

"You’ll have to get your ears pierced tomorrow. There’s just time for them to heal by New Year’s Eve for you to wear them."

"Thank you, Diana. But what are you all going to wear for this Ball?"

"We’d planned on long dresses too, Cybill."

"You’ve had it planned for some time, then. Were you in on this, Harriet?"

"Actually, no. But it does sound rather exciting. I have a long dress I can wear for the occasion . Until recently it would have a been a criminal offence for the two of us to go to a ball en femme, but the new law has changed all that. I’m looking forward to it.."

I grinned. "So am I, to tell you the truth. That’s settled then. Where do I get my ears pierced?"

"That’s a relief. I thought for a moment I’d gone too far, Cybill. Women’s hair-dressers pierce ears. I’ll take you tomorrow. No, the day after. Tomorrow’s Boxing Day."

"Has anyone any plans for Boxing Day?"

I replied. "I’ve always liked to go down to the river and take part in the scratch rowing regattas. They take entries in the order in which you arrive, taking note of the amount of experience you’ve had, and make up scratch crews to race against one another. If you enter several at different clubs you can be almost sure of bringing home a trophy, and the exercise is great for working off all this Christmas food. How about you, Harriet?"

"I used to row in College, Cybill, but I’ve never tried these Boxing Day regattas. I’ve heard of them though. They sound fun."

"How about you three? Have you ever rowed, Prudence?"

"No, I never did, but Diana used to row in college."

"So did I," said Joanna, "It sounds fun. Do they accept women?"

"Most of the clubs do. There are one or two that don’t, but we’ll just pass those by. But what will you do, Prudence?"

"If everyone’s game, then, I’ll walk with you and watch while you four row your hearts out. What time shall we meet?"

"Come round to our place about eight. It’s nearer to the tow-path than here. Said Joanna, "I’ll fix us all orange juice and coffee. I don’t suppose anyone will want more. Then you can come back there for a meal afterwards. What do we wear?"

"You could all wear exercise tights and leotards for the rowing, with parkas and skirts over them between races. And Joanna and I could lend you boys shorts to wear over your leotards."

"You intend us to do this en femme then," said Henry.

"Of course. You should spend the whole Christmas holiday as women."

"I’m game if you are, Cybill," said Harriet, "I suppose it would work. We should be able to get away with it."

I broke in. "It’s all right for you, Henry, but a lot of those guys know me. I’ve rowed with them. Besides, I’m not sure that it would be moral to compete as a woman."

"They won’t recognize you if we make you up heavily. Now don’t be a spoil sport, Cybill."

So a clear bright frosty Boxing Day morning saw us on the tow-path at Putney. I had my hair braided and brought up on top with a ribbon in a rather Germanic looking way, and was wearing electric blue tights under a black leotard slashed with shocking pink, both loaned by Diana. My parka was hunter green, inset with the same pink, and I wore a dark green skirt with an elastic waist.

We approached Thames Rowing Club. Oh hell, it was Bob Hughes at the desk.

"Name please."

"Cybill Caerleon."

Bob looked up. "Your brother not here today? How is he?"

"My brother?" I was confused, as well I might be.

"Alistair. He is your brother, isn’t he? He looks just like you."

"Yes, he is. He slipped and fell on Christmas Eve, pulling a muscle in his thigh. He’s hobbling around on crutches at the moment, in a foul mood," I extemporized, hoping that would sound reasonable. I could not think up anything else to say on the spur of the moment.

"Pity! He’s a good oarsman and a good sport. What club do you row for?"

"Agecroft Rowing Club, Manchester." I thought it as well to name a small and distant club.

"Never heard of it."

"The club-house is next door to the Manchester University club-house, and most of the members are graduates from there, like me. I rowed stroke in the women’s heavyweight varsity crew ten years ago."

"Didn’t I meet you at the Nottingham Regatta that year?"

"You probably did. That was as far south as we ever competed. Did we dance together at the ball afterwards, perhaps?" Now I was being outrageous. Flirting with him even.

"Maybe. But I must get on with registering competitors for this regatta. Come to our hop this evening and dance with me."

I remembered in time that I was not supposed to know his name. "I don’t know your name, even if Alistair does."

"It’s Bob, Bob Hughes. Seven thirty here, then, in the club-room upstairs. You’re my guest. Here’s your entry for the regatta. You’re in boat number five. Half-a-crown please."

"I thought the entry fee was five bob."

"Half-price for women. Next please."

Each boat crew consisted of three men and one woman. I found my crew and took charge of boat number five.

"I’m Cyb. What are your names, and how much experience have you had?"

"I’m Charlie and I’m pretty much a novice still, though I have just qualified as a junior."

Bill and Harry were more experienced, though both confessed that they preferred to row on starboard side.

"How about you Charlie?"

"I prefer port side, but I don’t think I could stroke the boat."

"How do you all feel about a woman stroking? I stroked my university heavyweight women’s crew."

"That settles it, then. An experienced stroke will make all the difference, and you’re bigger than me, Cyb. I’ll row in the number two seat."

"I suggest we practice starts while going up to the starting area. In a sprint like this that may make all the difference."

We won our heat easily, then the quarter final and semi-final. Prudence had charge of our parkas and purses on the tow path, and by now had been joined by the other members of our party who had been eliminated in the heats, so together they made a cheering party for the final. Boat number eleven put up a hard fight, but number five had stolen the lead at the start and just held on to the finish, winning by a mere six feet in two minutes 1.5 seconds. Practising starts had paid off.

"Bloody well rowed, you guys." Bob Hughes had come down to the landing stage. "I never expected to see a boat stroked by a woman win the trophy. Every other boat put their woman in the bow seat."

"But Cyb was the only one of us who had ever stroked a crew. And a damn good stroke she was. She had the guts needed."

Joanna, Harriet and Bob Hughes helped us haul the boat out and rack it in the boat-house. "Do you want a shower, Cyb, before we give you all your cans?"

"No. I want to go down the tow-path and compete again at another club."

"You won’t get such good trophies anywhere else, Cyb. Ours are pewter quarts."

"Sure, but I want a pint mug too!"

I pulled on my skirt, threw my parka over my shoulder, and with the rest of my crew went over to receive my tankard from the hands of the club president.

"I’ll come with you to London Rowing club," said Bob. "They’re due to start about now. I feel like a row. Now don’t forget, 7:30 tonight. You’re my guest, Cyb. And your friends too are welcome, but they’ll have to pay."

I hesitated for a moment, having second thoughts. The idea of going to a dance with a man seemed odd.

Diana’s boat won at London, but I won again at Thames Tradesmen Rowing Club and again at Cygnet, when we finally made our way there, each time rowing stroke. With each regatta I feared discovery the more, for at each club I had several acquaintances.

"If I’d known how easy it was to win trophies like this," remarked Harriet, " I’d have done it before and had a show-case full by now. It’s a great way to work off Christmas dinner."

"I had a show-case full," I said, "But I shall never see them again now. Just have to start over again. My wife threw them all out, with my degree certificates and my medals. She said I was proud of them and pride is a sin. ‘The Bible says. . .’ On and on it went."

"Your degree certificates even?"

"Yes, I had my doctoral certificate on the wall of my study and the others in a drawer together with the medals from my naval service."

Joanna decided it was time to change the subject. "Diana, why don’t you shower first, then Alistair. Henry and I can shower last, together. But how about you, Prudence - do you need a shower?"

"Not really, Joanna. And you’ll be short of hot water with all this crowd. You all go ahead. I’ll help you sort out some clothes that this stinking crew can wear after they’ve showered. I’m not sitting down to dinner with them like this, even if they have showered. Now you go and shower, Diana."

Joanna found a jump-suit for Diana, and Prudence took it to her in the bath-room. She and Joanna then searched through Henry’s wardrobe for something for me, and found a peacock-blue, sleeveless, silk, sack dress that came to just above my knees and a pair of pumps.

"I didn’t know Henry had such an extensive feminine wardrobe."

"Oh yes. He is usually en femme these days at home. He doesn’t go out dressed though. Tonight will really be the first time since university. Except of course for yesterday."

"We’d better take stockings and a garter belt for Alistair too."

I groaned when Prudence showed me her selection, but I dressed in them at her prodding. "Now let’s get Diana to do your hair and I’ll do your make-up while Joanna and Henry shower."

DIANA and Prudence begged off going to the Thames Rowing Club Ball that evening, but Joanna and Harriet accompanied me to the dance. We found Bob Hughes hovering near the door, wearing a club blazer and grey slacks. I was wearing my new green dress and cape, my hair loose but held back with two combs.

"You look smashing, Cyb. What’ll you have to drink?"

"I’m still dehydrated after all that rowing, Bob. Just a glass of juice, if I may."

"Is that all? How many pots did you take home, by the way?"

"Two more besides yours. Thames Tradesmen and Cygnet, a half-pint and a pint respectively, so I won a full set of sizes. I had invitations to their hops too, but you got in first."

"I’m glad I did. Did the Tradesmen only offer halves? What happened to your other two friends?" nodding towards Joanna and Harriet, who were already dancing together.

"They’ve been invited to the Cygnet dance," I extemporized. "They know some of the guys there. Joanna and Harriet aren’t lesbians, by the way. I see rather few women here, so I expect they’ll soon be dancing with some of your members."

Bob laughed. "I expect they will. Now come and dance with me then I shall be the envy of all the other guys, with the prettiest woman here in my arms."

I hesitated a moment. The idea of dancing with a man repelled me - I was not gay, despite being en femme. Then I realized that dancing the twist did not involve any body contact, merely dancing near a partner in an asexual manner. So long as there were no old-fashioned ball-room dances, in which the man held his partner, all should be well. I could never dance cheek to cheek. I put out my hand. "Come on then."

The relentless beat of sixties rock went on all evening from the big sound system. I blamed having to shout above it for a growing hoarseness of voice, and used this as an excuse for dropping the pitch nearer to its more normal male register. I stuck to soft drinks all evening. I did not wish to lose control. Bob too had little alcohol, just a couple of beers, but otherwise soft drinks. By two o’clock the dance was drawing to a close. I was struck with the thought that Bob would want to take me home and expect at least a good-night kiss, if not something more. Apart from hating the idea of being kissed by a man I worried about Bob feeling my scratchy beard.

"Bob, I’m worried about Joanna and Harriet. They’re very drunk, and I can’t let them drive. I was hoping you’d drive me home, but I can’t leave them like this. We came in their car."

Bob’s face fell. "I guess you’ll have to drive them then. When can I see you again, Cyb?"

"I’m really sorry, Bob. I had hoped to thank you properly for this evening when you drove me home, but I must see to my friends. Thank you for being so understanding, Bob dear. I’m afraid I can’t see you again till Easter, when I next come to London. I’m heading back north tomorrow."

I leant over and brushed Bob lightly on the cheek with the back of my hand, and was gone before Bob could make any move to do anything more. I reclaimed my cloak and shepherded my two friends to the car-park, using them as shields against Bob.

"You were an idiot to get so drunk, Harriet. You could have betrayed yourself so easily. Your voice was dropping into the baritone range at the end, you know."

"Thanks for rescuing us both, Cy. . .Cy. . .Cybill. Hic."

"You are drunk. We’re nearly home."

We all met at the lesbian household for New Year’s Eve and went to the Ball in one car, Diana driving. "Let’s keep count of how many men try to pick up each of us. In fact let’s have a little bet as to who scores the highest."

"My money’s on you, Joanna."

"That’s very gallant of you, Harriet, but I’m betting on Cybill."

"So am I; she is so pretty," said Diana and Prudence in chorus.

"I’m betting on Prudence, myself."

"Well, with all three women betting on Cybill I guess all bets are off."

We thoroughly enjoyed ourselves, dancing with each other and refusing all invitations from other men. The women were right in their assessment. I received seven invitations to dance, Joanna three, Harriet only one, and Diana and Prudence none at all.

"I guess they could all see that we two are lesbians, and felt they would get nowhere. But Cybill was by far the most attractive girl in the room I thought. She needs a pendant like yours, Harriet as the final touch."

"‘She’, Prudence?"

"Did I say ‘she’? It’s so easy to think of her in those terms when he is dressed like this and so pretty with it."

Prudence was in fact beginning to think of me as ‘she’, making it easier for her to persevere with her attempt to have a baby. In turn I was quite happy with the present arrangements of the household, occasional gentle sex with my colleague Prudence, and the excitement of cross-dressing for parties with a few friends. And exciting it became, always with a little fear of discovery adding that much of an edge, giving it that frisson.

The miseries of my married were life were fading, and I was happier than I had been for years. I arranged with my lawyer to make over the deeds of my house to my wife, but refused to see her for the signing. I transferred all my savings to her and the ownership of the car, and still found that I was paying almost three quarters of my net earnings over to her each month. I wondered how I could ever afford a flat of my own. In the meantime I was quite happy with my present life, and Diana and Prudence seemed content too.

Prudence was still showing no sign of pregnancy and I felt that I should be finding some way of having intercourse more frequently instead of just once a month at the time that Prudence thought she might be most fertile. What if she had made a mistake?

The three of us had settled into a routine. I did most of the cooking - I was a better cook than either of the women - Diana seemed to enjoy cleaning, and was a stickler for neatness, while Prudence spent a great deal of her spare time making clothes, including tiny garments for the planned baby. Every Sunday morning the three of us, sometimes joined by Joanna and Henry, ate brunch, dressed in night-gowns and robes, always with ‘Cybill’ cooking. This had become a ritualized occurrence.

As the frost broke in March and the soil softened, I helped Prudence with tilling and preparing the garden beds. Prudence turned out to be a fanatical gardener. To my surprise I observed that she did not wear jeans for gardening, but a denim skirt. I realized that in fact I had never seen her in trousers of any kind, while Diana almost always wore pants. That week I bought myself a denim skirt, and the next Saturday wore it to work in the garden, with the idea that by wearing a skirt voluntarily like that I might perhaps bring Prudence to the bed of this ‘woman’ a little more often.

"I’m so glad to see you dressed like that, Cybill. But what made you do it?"

"In part to please you, Prudence, but in fact a skirt is much more comfortable that jeans. I am beginning to wonder why men put up with pants every day."

"I’ll make one or two skirts for you to wear at the weekends if you like. Would that please you?"

"Why, thank you, Prudence. And not just at the weekends. I should be happy to wear dresses in the evenings too, if that would please you. After all, that’s what Henry does. I think I prefer dresses to skirts with their tight waist-bands."

That spring pantyhose appeared in the stores for the first time, immediately followed by Mary Quant’s mini-skirts, which became possible once there were no stocking tops and garter clips to show. It is strange now to look back to a time when mini-skirts were a new fashion statement. Prudence made mini-dresses for all three of us, using a giant abstract Marimekko print in shocking pink, orange and deep purple, On Diana, with her rather masculine looks, it seemed almost grotesque, while Prudence’s own coloring was wrong, but on Cybill we all three of us agreed it looked smashing. Easter Sunday was a bright soft day, and Joanna and Harriet joined us for a rather early brunch, both of them dressed in cotton shirt-waisters in a pastel print, coming to just below the knee.

"Let’s all go to Kew Gardens today shall we? The azaleas should be in bloom and the gardens should be lovely in this weather."

"I’m not dressed for it. I suppose I could go home and change."

"Nonsense, Harriet. You’re beautifully dressed. Just right for the day. Cybill’s going to put on a dress, too aren’t you, Cybill?"

"Let’s all put on our Marimekko mini-dresses, shall we? But you’ll have to make me up and dress my hair so that I can pass."

"Don’t forget your pantyhose."

We strolled around the gardens, the three women stopping to admire flowers and soon Harriet and I found ourselves ahead.

"I’ve often wondered, Harriet, how you came to enjoy dressing like this."

"How about you, Cyb?"

"I don’t really like it all that much though I find it exciting, but as you know, Prudence and Diana are lovers. Diana is a firm man-hater, an out-and-out lesbian, but they both want a baby to bring up as their own, and Prudence wants the experience of pregnancy. They’ve tried to adopt, but no dice. They’ve tried artificial insemination, but have been refused that too. Then Prudence asked me to try to impregnate her."

"Yes, I knew they were lesbians, and wondered where you fitted in."

"After the first time we made love, with Prudence in a night-dress, she confessed that it would make life much easier for her if I wore a night-dress too, so that she could pretend I was a woman."

"Did you enjoy it, Cybill?"

"Not really. I prefer skin to skin when making love. But I put up with it for her sake. Last Christmas was the first time, though, that I cross-dressed in day-time. How about you?"

"No, I’d been cross-dressing for some time."

"Well, it was obvious to me that both of them accepted me better when I was en femme. As lesbians they could pretend I was just another woman if I dressed as one, so I went along with their dressing me up. It has been quite fun at times, I must confess, but I’m not gay at all you know." I looked pensively at a display of azaleas.

"Nor am I, Cyb, but both Joanna and I so enjoy my cross-dressing that I do it all the time now. Out of choice."

"Oh, it’s out of choice for me too, Harriet, but I make that choice because I want to fulfill my promise to Prudence to give her a baby. Once that’s done I shall make the choice to dress as a man again."

"Have you ever cross-dressed before, Cyb?"

"Actually I have. I went to an all-boys school, where kids whose voices had not yet broken had to act the female roles in Shakespeare’s plays. I used to enjoy it and was quite good at it."

"So did I. I remember playing Titania, queen of the faeries in A Midsummer Night’s Dream, and enjoying dressing the part. Then at university I went to a couple of parties in drag, just for fun."

"Me too. I nearly got caught, since I am too tall for a woman. It was a criminal offence in those days too. I could have been expelled."

"Did you ever dream of dressing as a woman, Cyb. I did, but it was not until Joanna prompted me that I did anything about it."

"No, I never did. It was fun at the time, but that was all. I never dreamed I would be strolling in public like this. But tell me about how Joanna prompted you, as you put it."

"It started one night when she was teasing me and refusing to let me take off her nightie to make love. When I turned my back she pulled it over her head and pushed it over mine, saying something like, ‘If you want it all that much, you wear it’. We made love like that."

"Well most men go through that kind of thing on occasion."

"We began to do that most of the time, with more elaboration sometimes, garter belt and stockings, for instance. Then Joanna asked me to wear her panties to work after we had made love one morning. I really enjoyed that."

"And gradually Joanna began to urge you to dress completely, I suppose."

"That was part of it, but really I wanted it more and more. The more I wore feminine garments in bed, or under my business suits, the more I wanted to dress fully, and Joanna just encouraged it."

"I wish I could enjoy cross-dressing as much as you do, Harriet."

EXCEPT for the road-blocks thrown in my way by my estranged wife when I attempted to see my children, 1963 was much happier than the previous year. Even John Kennedy’s assassination could not throw a caul over it. I continued to live with Prudence and Diana, under the same regime as before. My research was going better, and the three of us worked together on a joint project.

That spring I was one of the invited speakers at the celebrations at the University of Pavia in northern Italy, marking the six hundredth anniversary of its foundation. I traveled there alone, delighted to speak Italian once again - I had studied for my Ph. D. in Italy - and rejoicing in two weeks when I never wore any women’s clothes. This respite made it easier to reconcile myself to the idea that I had promised to do my best to give Prudence a baby, and that Prudence found it easier to have sex with me if I cross-dressed, while Diana too received me more warmly if I were dressed as a woman. This respite was welcome, but I did not know how long I could continue with my task of attempting to father Prudence’s baby, if it involved much more cross-dressing.

A couple of months later I ran into Bob Hughes.

"I’ve been trying to get hold of your sister, Alistair. I don’t have her telephone number, and Directory Information can’t find her in Manchester. I can’t find you in the book either, or I would have been on to you earlier. Are you fully recovered from your accident, by the way?"

I had a moment of confusion then I remembered. "Yes, thank you, Bob. It screwed up Christmas for me but I soon got over it. Just a couple of twinges now. Since the break-up of my marriage I’ve not had a phone of my own."

"How about Cyb?"

"She’s just been posted overseas to the Sudan. I don’t know her address yet, but give me your phone number and I’ll let you know as soon as she writes to me."

"I wish you would. I’m really attracted to her. She’s such beautiful woman. Did anyone tell you how alike you are?"

"Do you mean you’re attracted to me too?" With a grin.

"Don’t be daft."

On Whit Monday Joanna and Henry invited the three of us to dinner - "Robes de soir", read the invitation. Prudence made new dresses for us all, using different colors of taffeta but the same pattern for each, with a tight cross-draped bodice and swirling skirt. Mine was in deep hunter green moire. Diana had bought us all new ‘merry widow’ corsets, "since the bodice is so tight." Prudence and I spent the whole weekend gardening, dressed in new denim jumpers, I doing much of the heavy labour and enjoying the work-out this provided. After soaking in the tub I powdered my body and pulled on the new merry widow and my lacy tap panties, then knocked on the women’s bedroom door to ask Prudence to lace me up. She insisted on helping me into my stockings too - she always had a fear that I would ladder them - and told me to come into their bedroom for her to do my make-up as soon as I had put on my slip.

For the evening Diana put up my hair in a chignon, held by a be-ribboned elastic. This was too much like the style my wife (soon to be ex-wife) generally affected, and I told her so. She changed it to a French Roll, then the two women helped me into my dress, holding it up for me, so that the stiff fabric would not crease too much. Diana sprayed me with her perfume.

The front garden was already abloom as we walked to the dinner party, rather than take the car. Indeed, Prudence and I (I was wearing my pale green taffeta cape over my dress) expressed the opinion that our garden was prettier than any of our neighbors.

"I should jolly well think so, considering the amount of work you two have put into it," said Diana.

There was no moon when we walked back home after the dinner, but the stars afforded enough light, and the three of us walked hand-in-hand, Prudence in the middle.

"Let us get our dresses off, then I can put on a robe and come and help you with yours. Don’t try to take it off by yourself, Cybill."

I could see the wisdom of that. It was an awkward garment to put on or to doff. It seemed an age before Prudence entered in her robe. She helped me off with my dress, slip and panties, then pushed me back onto the bed, still clad in my merry widow and stockings. She threw off her robe, revealing that she was similarly clad. I felt my cock rising as she mounted me and I slipped in easily. Just then the door opened again and Diana entered, like us wearing just a merry widow and stockings. She climbed onto the bed and straddled my face, facing her lover and leaning forward to kiss her. My mouth was pressed against her, and I started to lick her vagina and clitoris while pumping hard into Prudence. The two women leaned towards each other, kissing and fondling each other’s breasts, while Diana reached down and started to masturbate Prudence. Realizing what was happening, I reached a hand around and started to masturbate Diana, tickling her clitoris while continuing to lick her twat.

We all came almost at the same moment and the women clung to each other as they shuddered. Diana recovered first and fled. Prudence stayed with me a few moments longer, but she soon followed her lover to their own bed-room. I lay quietly a few moments longer, then stripped, showered and retired for the night.

It was two months later that Prudence announced that she was pregnant - this was before the days of the quick pregnancy test. I never slept with her again, and although I continued to reside with the lesbian couple until the baby girl was born, it was merely as a lodger. I stopped cross-dressing in the evening and at weekends, but still enjoyed intimate parties en femme with the two women and Joanna and Harriet.

THAT’S about it. I had promised Prudence that I would never attempt to make contact with her daughter once she had been christened, and I kept my part of the pact."

There was silence for a moment, as they sat watching the dying embers of the fire.

"But you never told us how you came to grow a beard."

"Prudence was about three months pregnant when I came down with chicken pox of all things. With all those spots on my face I couldn’t shave, and just had to grow a beard. When I recovered I kept on the beard as a defence against being coerced into any more cross-dressing, which I was beginning to detest. Shortly after you were born, Amaryllis, and soon after I registered your birth, giving you my surname, there was some National Defence crisis - I don’t remember quite what, perhaps the Suez Canal Crisis - and I was recalled to active service in the Royal Naval Reserve, and of course I kept my beard. What’s happened to Joanna and Henry? Are they still together?"

"I believe they are near to retirement. Henry dresses in drab only to the office now. He’s director of some small branch of the scientific civil service. Joanna’s stayed in research. They never had any children, but they seem happy with their strange life-style. Do tell us more about yourself, Alistair. What happened next?"

"While I was still on active duty, the Foreign Office offered me the post of Scientific Attaché in Washington, so I shipped straight out there without ever doing more than touch base in London. My divorce had finally come through by then."

"I was Cultural Attaché at the Norwegian Embassy at the same time. That was how we met. This dashing Scottish Scientific Attaché, with his flaming red beard, attracted me enormously. I made a straight play for him. Is that how you say it, Alistair? You girls both have some of his red coloring in your hair."

"Every time I threatened to shave off my beard I had a rebellion on my hands. Not just Ingrid, but Iris too."

"Don’t you dare shave it off! I don’t care how pretty you are dressed as a woman.. You’re my man."

"After we were married we spent a year in Washington, before the Swedish Royal Academy offered me this job. Since English is now the international language of science, you find Brits all over the world. Now come and give your ‘dead’ father a big hug, Amaryllis. You really are my long-lost well-loved daughter, you know."

He opened his arms; Amaryllis came shyly across and bent to kiss him, but he pulled her onto his lap and enveloped her.

"You don’t know how I’ve dreamt of this meeting. It was so hard keeping my pact with your mother. I longed to see you." He brushed away a tear.

"But, wha..wha..." She finally got it out between sobs. "What do I call you?"

"Alistair, of course. Like Iris does and everyone else."

Ingrid and Iris crossed to them and hugged them both too, a family hug.

She hugged him tight, and let her tears of joy flow down his beard.

 

 

© 2001
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