The night sky had clouded over when Shaun reached the city. Her mother had left the flat weeks before the wedding to live with Pauline again.
She had argued with Shaun that now she was about to be married she should give up the flat, which, in her opinion was an unnecessary expense her future husband would have to pay.
Shaun let herself in, thankful she had retained the lease of the flat in her name only. To Shaun it was hers. It was home, here she was safe. She went to bed early feeling completely alone in the world. An edge of panic crept into her soul, that she knew would stay with her for years.
Unable to sleep she sat up in bed, stared into the inky blackness.
"What if?" she said aloud, voicing her thoughts, " what if what I've been doing all my life has been totally wrong?. What if each day I live a lie, a life of deceit. Forced to wear a mask, like an actor on a stage. Not of my own choice, unable to do, unable to act as I would like, or as I feel."
In the gray light of dawn she decided she wanted to escape into the world rather than from it. The most painful thing in the life of a woman who wanted change was the improbability of change. She knew that unless she was an essentially sound creature the thought would drive her insane. She tried hard not to think of the happiness she had shared with Maureen. Of the walks along the beach, of their love-making in the bedroom that was their haven at the cottage. She imagined the face of Robert Cockran, and forced him instantly from her mind.
Shaun felt the need for a job that would keep her fully occupied. Printing was out of the question, the memories too painful. Working behind a bar in an out-of-town hotel she thought was not for her. A Nanny? She dismissed idea instantly. Housework? Perhaps as a maid. Something that would take charge of her life, similar to her work with the Army nurses. She scanned the newspapers for a position, found one that wanted a maid. The answer to her letter of application came back quickly, offering a position as second housemaid in the Earl of Lancaster's home at Teddington Manor. The letter informed her that she would be on a two month trial, and if satisfactory would be offered a permanent position. A rail ticket was enclosed for her journey to Teddington.
Shaun Cockran as she was now forced to be known, arrived at Teddington railway station feeling she was on the threshold of a new life. A limousine was waiting to collect her, a man in the uniform of a chauffeur moved forward to meet her.
"You the new housemaid?"
"Yes."
"You're late."
"The train was late. It wasn't my fault."
The chauffeur grunted picked up her cases tossed them into the boot of the car and slammed down the lid. He marched round the gravel driveway and sat in the car.
"Get in or walk," he told her.
Shaun made no comment and as the car left the railway station she took in the beauty of the long drive to the Manor. On a hill, dwarfing the estate worker's cottages stood a beautiful Elizabethan Manor. They drove round to the servants quarters. The chauffeur unloaded her cases and left her knocking at the door. The cook welcomed her. She was shown to a room in the attic and told to report, ready for work at six the following morning.
On her first morning she was taken upstairs to a room with a huge bed under a canopy. There was a figure propped up among masses of pillows. The figure of Lady Dorothea Lancaster taking breakfast in bed, doing her best to decapitate a boiled egg. The butler informed her Ladyship that this was Shaun Cockran the new second housemaid.
"You will have a good life here at the Manor," Madam told her," as long as you behave, and Jordan finds your work satisfactory. But remember this girl, you are on a two months trial. Which means any trouble and you will be given instant dismissal."
The Earl of Lancaster sat in an easy chair in his library. His hair was gray. The smoothness of his expansive brow was defaced by premature wrinkles, and now his once attractive face bore the unmistakable look of dissipation. It appeared to Shaun, as she began her dusting that the man, as he sat behind his desk was old before his time. He was barely sixty and had spent most of his life in the Army.
Madam, had, according to gossip in the servants hall, found the Earl involved in romantic situations while they were living abroad and had brought the family back to the Manor on the death of his father. She was determined to begin a new isolated life in the country where she felt her husband would find little to tempt him.
She had brought their daughter out into society by herself, then packed her off to Europe, never allowing the Earl to forget it. She treated him with open contempt, but with an icy politeness which his station in life demanded. This made her husband bad tempered, and he would vent his anger on anyone who crossed his path.
Shaun's life as a housemaid was a hard round of drudgery. Her day began at six am, and went on until seven thirty at night with meal breaks at varying times according to the whims of the butler. After work she usually went straight to bed leaving no time to brood, or even think about Maureen or Robbie.
The routine was easy to follow, making beds, cleaning bathrooms and dusting. The Earl liked to supervise the dusting of his library and study. If Shaun was not on time he could be heard all over the house bellowing for her.
When there were guests the huge banqueting hall was opened for dinner parties. The extra work making cook and the butler almost unbearable and the servants, including Shaun tried to keep out of their way.
Everywhere there were flowers. The gardener brought fresh flowers into the house each morning. It was one of Shaun's jobs to arrange them, after Jordan found her rearranging a vase in the library, which the Earl, in one of his tantrums had sent crashing to the floor.
At Christmas there was a house-party. Family and friends arriving from all over the country, staying for two weeks of extravagance. When Christmas dinner was over upstairs, Jordan joined the servants in their dinning room, where they ate the remains of the turkey, and the beef that had not even been carved, As Madam, according to cook would never allow the same food to be served twice.
Shaun wondered when she, and the other servants would get their Christmas holidays. She spoke to cook about it, who told her that it would be at least two weeks after all the guests had left.
Cook would have explained the arrangements in more detail, but a bell summoned Shaun to the master bedroom as the Earl began bellowing for his maid to tidy up his room.
The Earl of Lancaster sat in his favourite chair resplendent in quilted dressing gown and told Shaun to turn down the bed, and dust the dressing table which the first maid had forgotten that morning.
When Shaun had finished she turned to leave the room. The Earl, already standing, his dressing gown swinging freely barred her way to the door. She remembered last Christmas and thought how much she hated the festive season.
He moved in on her. Leant with a hand at the side of her head on the doorjamb. He smelt of brandy. She caught a glimpse of his pale looking thighs, which to Shaun were about as appetizing as uncooked turkey drumsticks. When he touched her with his other hand she jumped. He seemed oblivious to her horror, taking her reaction blindly for consent. He bent down to kiss her. For Shaun it was just too much. She brought her knee hard up into his groin, remembering Maureen's husband and how much it hurt him.
Aware that she was in control of the situation. That this was the Lord and Master trying it on, Shaun knew she had him at her mercy. Holding his hurt he began swearing at her demanding she leave the house immediately. She shivered as anger ran through her. Held up his head by grabbing a handful of his hair and put her face close to his.
"Sack me if you dare, you dirty bastard, and the world will know that you an Earl, tried to rape a poor defenceless housemaid."
He mumbled something as Jordan came hurrying into the bedroom.
"The Master fell down and hurt himself on the chair," Shaun explained, "I've been trying to help him stand up. I was going to ask Madam and cook to help me."
"No! No!" the Earl gasped as Jordan helped him to his feet,"please, just give me a minute," with the butler's help he sat in his chair, "thank you my dear for being so helpful," he said turning to Shaun.
After the guests had left, Teddington Manor was uncanny in it's silence The activity slowed, routine returned and Shaun went back to making beds and dusting. The Earl and Lady Lancaster left for their usual two months holiday, taking enormous amounts of suitcases and trunks with them which Shaun and the other staff had to pack.
She still had to dust the library each day, which Jordan had taken over as his own. It seemed to Shaun that he thought himself as the Master of Teddington Manor while the Earl and Madam were away.
Ever since the incident in the Earl's bedroom Shaun had managed to avoid the butler. She arranged the flowers and tidied the desk as usual, but some sixth sense made her stop. Jordan was watching her every move. She turned, how long he had been watching she had no idea. She was startled. He grinned, seeing the trace of fear in her eyes.
"I didn't know you were here," she said politely.
"You've been avoiding me."
"Not really Mr Jordan."
"I've been wanting to speak to you."
"Oh yes. Something about my duties?" She could think of nothing he needed to say, having already told Madam, according to cook that he was pleased with her work.
"Your work is satisfactory," he said rather grudgingly as though it was against his better judgement.
"The Earl told me what had happened. How you made up to him," he caught the look of amazement and panic, "then when he went along with your little game you made him fall. An old man like that, playing with him. He could have been seriously hurt."
"No! That's a lie. You're crazy. It's all lies. It was him. He made me go up to his room. Told me to turn down his bed. When he went to touch me I hit him in the groin with my knee."
"Really! You must have led him on. Why does he only want you to dust his rooms. Why does he allow only you to tidy his desk? there's got to be a reason."
Shaun tried to push past him. He stood in the doorway blocking her escape.
"Come on Shaun Cockran. You know I'm attracted to you. You only made up to the old man to make me jealous. Let's not play any more games. Besides I'm younger than him."
He held her face in his hands. She struggled, turned her head away and brought her knee upwards. He was too fast for her. He slammed his arm down on her thigh making her cry out in agony. She turned to run. His usual self-control seemed to have gone as he grabbed her by the shoulders.
"Come on Shaun," he shouted, "you know you want me. I can give you more than that old bastard, who can't even get it up."
He covered her mouth with his, trying to force his tongue between her lips. She bit his bottom lip making it bleed. He thrust her away swore and slapped her across the face.
"Who the hell do you think you are?" he shouted wiping the blood from his chin, "You're just a little slut who went to a boarding school, who thinks they can pick and choose." His eyes, blazing with anger held hers." You think I'm not good enough. The last one was just the same. I got rid of her."
The butler drove his fist into her shoulder. Shaun fell back against the wall. He raised his hand to hit her again. She kicked out at him with all the strength she could muster as tears streamed down her cheeks. He dodged the blow, stood by the door laughing.
"Who needs a bitch like you. You're nothing but a whore selling yourself to the highest bidder. It's your bloody funeral remember. I'm wise to your game. My friends at the station might find some interest. So don't try it on with his Lordship again."
Shaun thankful he had left, was trembling all over. The lies the injustice made her feel sick. To Jordan, the butler her rejection meant only one thing, that his position in the Lancaster household had been insulted. To him it was a slur on his class.
If only, Shaun thought she could change her gender, if only she could suddenly become a man, she'd give him the hiding he deserved. All men are bastards. "One day," she said softly. Cook and some of the other servants gave her side glances on occasions, not one of them daring to say a word or offer to help. It was unjust, obviously they all thought so, but there was nothing she could do to prove her innocence. She knew that if she walked out now she would loose her holiday pay. But she made up her mind this was the last time a male would ever abuse her.
Jordan appeared to be bad tempered with everyone. A11 the servants, even the cooks were frightened of him. No one escapes his stream of abuse and Shaun Cockran was not forgotten.
While waiting for her holidays Shaun kept a low profile, moving quietly about the house, carrying out her duties, not willing to provoke the slightest comment from anyone. A week later after talking to the cook she registered a complaint with the local police and was told the matter would be looked into in due course. She told them that her employer had tried to rape her. But during the interview it was suggested that no serious crime had been committed.
She was told that the Earl was her employer, not Mr Jordan, who, like herself, was a member of the household staff. That due to the Christmas break they were shorthanded. It was further suggested that perhaps a little too much Christmas cheer had sparked off a situation, which in normal circumstances would never have happened.
MR Jordan, they told her, was, in their opinion a gentleman, and it was a little difficult to believe that a person of such high standing could even think of using his position to abuse anyone.
There was an uneasy atmosphere in the servants' quarters, with hardly a word spoken between them. After the police had interviewed the servants, excluding the butler a sense of foreboding appeared to overtake Teddington Manor.
Although Shaun was not informed of the outcome of the police inquiries she gave Jordan a wide berth, knowing he took a callous delight in placing himself in her path whenever the opportunity arose. At mealtimes she made sure she sat next to the cook, who she felt might afford her some protection.
To leave Teddington Manor was no hardship, but Shaun was determined to stay and take her holidays with pay which she felt she had earned. She had sub-let her flat, the lease was due to end in a few weeks. The tenants pleaded with her for a six-month renewal. She had to refuse, telling them she needed the flat herself.
Her divorce from Robert Cockran was granted on the grounds of desertion, an action which did not require her to defend and took only a few minutes to conclude. She reverted to her former name of Maclaren hoping to put the past behind her.
A11 alone in her flat, she thought how easy it really was that so much of life can be dissolved so quickly. The hopes, failures, struggles and betrayals, all washed away with the stroke of a pen Shaun knew that all the men in her life had been a disaster, but she still longed for love. To love, and be loved, not by a man. She needed the love of a woman. Now desperately lonely she cherished the love she held for Maureen. She had been in her flat for three lonely weeks, when her mother came for a visit. She told her that she had been thrown out of Pauline's house by her new husband who had accused her of trying to break up their marriage. She promised Shaun that if she would give her a home, she would never interfere in her life again.
Perhaps driving a taxi was the beginning of the nightmare. The weeks, months that followed seemed almost unreal. There were times when Shaun Maclaren felt she had been thrust into an entirely different world, a mad world, fraught with danger and anxiety. She felt a sense of achievement in obtaining a license to drive a city cab. She asked for the evening, or night shift, so that she could sleep most of the day and avoid arguments with her mother.
It was close to midnight when the dispatcher told her to pick up a fare whose car had broken down near the Courthouse and take him to his home upcountry. The round trip, the dispatcher told her was about sixty kilometres and that would finish her shift. On the way back to the city it rained heavily. The drone of the engine the unending click of the windscreen wipers caused her to doze at the wheel. She pulled off the road, lay back in her seat and closed her eyes for a few minutes.
How long she had been asleep Shaun had no idea. She awoke with a start, a chill ran down her spine when a hand, cold as ice stroked the back of her neck.
"Where to?" she asked.
"Westhill-on-Sea."
"Where?" she asked again, forcing herself to move and switch on the interior light. Slowly she turned in her seat,wondering who had crept into her cab wanting to go to Westhill.
The back was empty. She bent down, picked up the wrench Yvonne, the supervisor had told her to keep under her seat. Knowing someone must be crouching behind her seat waiting to spring on her, grab the nights takings. She leant over the front seat with the wrench raised ready to strike. there were just empty seats and nothing on the floor.
Shaking with fright she switched on the two-way to raise the dispatcher By the hissing that came from the speakers she knew she was out of range. She wanted to run, tried opening the door but the force of wind and rain kept it shut.
She looked in the back again. The seats were empty.
She turned on the ignition, it clicked and went dead. She kept turning it on each time it clicked. The headlights faded and went out, the interior light dimmed. Gripping the wheel to stop from shaking she rested her head.
Suddenly it stopped raining. She opened the door and looked out. Then in one last desperate bid she turned on the ignition, and cried with relief as the engine roared into life. "No more country trips for me," she shouted into the two-way, "someone else can do those bloody runs."
The Supervisor had been driving taxis for over two years parked her vehicle behind Shaun, Weary of waiting for a fare she decided to chat to the new driver. Still shaking from her ordeal Shaun told her about the cold hand and the voices.
"I can still feel it-here-on the back of my neck," she said, rubbing it trying to get it warm, "honestly Yvonne I swear no one was there. The back of the taxi was empty. Then the bloody thing wouldn't start, and I was too far away to raise the dispatcher. I'm telling you that's the last country run I'll ever do. From now on it's city fares only."
Yvonne laughed. "It's the road," she said rubbing Shaun's neck, "we've all been down there. At the depot they call it the dream road. Some drivers say it leads to hell when the dreams recur, some say it never comes back.
But the dispatcher," Shaun protested. "He told me to pick up the fare. I know. I was there. In the rain. The wipers, I felt drowsy, pulled off the road for a minute and closed my eyes. It wasn't a dream. Here's the wrench you told me to keep under my seat." She began searching for it.
"It was here. I held it-in my hand."
"Shaun Maclaren! You've been asleep for hours. I've been parked behind you all night. I never said anything about carrying a wrench."
"You must have. The hand-I felt it. The two-way it doesn't work."
"Look outside," Yvonne told her angrily, " it hasn't rained for days. Check your two-way. I know it's working. I only got into your cab for a chat-to see if you were awake. It's the night shift, gets everyone like that."
When Yvonne left Shaun searched for the wrench. Unable to find it she checked her log with the dispatcher who told her she hadn't had a fare all night.
"But you sent me up-country," Shaun argued.
"Not me," came back the crackled reply, "it's the night shift. I see you've been down the road. It's happened to all of us. Talk to Yvonne she'll look after you."
The shift ended. The dispatcher asked Yvonne to keep an eye on the new driver, suggested it might be a good idea to stay with her the rest of the night.
Yvonne calmed Shaun down and put her to bed. She comforted her with delicate affectionate love. To Shaun it was something new, a different kind of love. Not the coarseness of heterosexual love, or even the demanding love of Maureen. It was the love of a woman, a real love, a love Shaun had never known even as a child.
She felt secure with Yvonne. Safe, in the fact that they were friends, close friends, nothing more. Certainly not lovers.
Her mother who promised never to interfere, began to nag and find fault with everything she tried to do. Her brother George came round every day. Shaun found it almost impossible to get enough sleep, and eventually her work suffered.
At Yvonne's suggestion they leased a one-bedroomed flat close to the depot. The bedroom was large with two bay windows. A double bed, a dressing table-the usual furniture and a few chairs. Yvonne thought it was a cold, austere, deceitful room, one that she told Shaun she would soon make more feminine.
Shaun claimed the small wardrobe, hung up her few pairs of slacks, her shirts and jumpers. With Yvonne it was different. From her suitcase she pulled out boxes and boxes of makeup which she arranged on the dressing table brushes, combs, bottles of perfume, jars and pots of cream and small boxes Everything she placed around the oval mirror.
"There," she said, "now the dressing table doesn't look so sad."
Fascinated, Shaun watched as Yvonne hung up blouses, skirts, slacks, lingerie and tights all in the huge free-standing wardrobe. Shaun had never seen anything like it before. Here, she thought was a real woman.
From a magical bottomless suitcase, she pulled out a beautifully embroidered night gown, a dressing gown and a pair of black silk pajamas.
"Here," she said giving the pyjamas to Shaun, "I know you love to play the man, and I, darling Shaun, need to play the part of the woman, now that we have a home of our own".
Yvonne took a delight in reading poems. For hours she lingered over 'Flowers of Evil' by Bauldaire.
She read aloud his 'Woman Damned' which Shaun felt championed the lesbian cause.
Yvonne always pretended to be asleep while Shaun hugged her in a slow irresistible embrace. She devoured her with kisses and caresses and crept along her motionless passive body. She was surprised to find Yvonne hesitant, and at times even frightened. She observed certain ritual precautions, on which Yvonne insisted.
Happy that at last she had found a woman with all the whims and desires of the female gender to love, she agreed that they made love only on Wednesdays and Sundays. Except for those two days their relationship was chaste. Although Shaun accepted it, she found it impossible to make any sense of it, even when Yvonne became obsessed with the morality that Bauldelaire wrote about in many of his works.
Eventually Shaun began to realise that to lull her sense of guilt, Yvonne wanted their love-making to happen as though in a dream. A dream between sleeping and waking on their rest days of Wednesdays and Sundays.
Reluctant to give up the love of a woman she so desperately needed Shaun Maclaren, tried, but found it very difficult to get used to the relationship, and was unable to accept it as a lasting stable way of life.
There were times when Yvonne wanted to feel the poor frail creature devastated by Shaun's cruel, brutal desire. It was this bizarre idea of Yvonne's that led to her suffering from an uncontrollable fear that something was preventing her living freely, something she identified as her virginity. Something she wanted to keep forever. She begged Shaun not to give up the relationship. "I want to grow old with you," she told her, "I want to become that sad figure of a maiden aunt, who get's it on - only with women."
Their feelings for each other changed as a kind of awkwardness entered their lives.
Shaun decided they needed a holiday, and with all thoughts of Robert Cockran and her cousin gone, booked a two week vacation at the Sandwood Hotel. With Yvonne she walked along the beach towards Maureen's cottage. She wanted to show her where she had spent so many happy hours, and had written a book, still in her service trunk. Yvonne was not interested, she was on holiday, wanting a good time, not to reminisce over things that concerned only Shaun.
They had been at the hotel three days. As usual they ordered breakfast in their suite. On the trolley the waitress wheeled in was a buff coloured envelope addressed to Shaun Maclaren.
"I hope it's not bad news," the waitress said handing her the telegram, "it came late last night. The night manager not wanting to disturb you thought it would be all right to wait."
Shaun thanked her. She never did like telegrams and wished people would not send them. With trembling hands she ripped open the envelope.
"Mother's in hospital. Asking for you. Come at once. Brother George."
Shaun creased the buff paper into it's original folds. Her eyes filled with tears she told Yvonne she had to go back and look after her mother.
"I'm staying here," Yvonne told her hotly, "your mother will be all right. There's little I can do. I'm not going to waste all that money I've spent on my first holiday in years."
Shaun nodded her head sadly as she packed her suitcases, knowing she never wanted to see Yvonne again.
"It's the letter that caused it," George told her the moment she arrived at the hospital, "this one - from your friend-Yvonne."
Shaun read and re-read the letter addressed to her mother telling her that her daughter was a lesbian. Had been one, a Butch, for a long time. That they were going to be married.
"I was forced to explain," her brother continued "like, how she can insist on things. She said it was something very bad and should be stopped. When I finished explaining she clutched at her chest. Found it hard to breathe. It was then she passed out. The ambulance rushed her here. I stayed all night. Early this morning the doctor said her condition was stable."
The doctor allowed Shaun into her mother's room for a few minutes. She opened her eyes, saw her youngest daughter and tried to smile.
With the urgency of the very ill, "That's all I wanted," she said, "to see you once again before I die."
"Thank God Ma! Thank God you're going to be all right."
She held her mother's hand and leaned over the bed. "What can I do?" Shaun asked, "what can I do to make you well and happy?"
There was a moment of silence. Then that gentle weak whisper again.
"I only want you to be happy."
The doctor told her she should leave and allow her mother to rest. Too tired to argue she went home with her brother for a few hours sleep.
Late in the afternoon the doctor telephoned asking them to come at once as their mother's condition had deteriorated. With her brother, Shaun sat for hours in the dimly lit waiting room. Minutes before midnight the doctor came in. Shaun looked at him, saw the flicker of anxiety as his eyes reached out and trapped hers. An awareness forced her to grasp his hand. From a remote corner of her mind she heard her mother's voice.
"Be who you want to be Shaun. Above all be happy. I'11 always be with you."
She looked at her brother, then back at the doctor, watched the narrow features settle into patterns of empathy. Dazed, Shaun heard the doctor's voice in the distance telling them that their mother had died of a massive heart attack. Her knees buckled, as she was pulled into her brother's arms. She felt the moisture on his cheek and clung to him, the way she had never clung to anyone before.
Rachel Maclaren was buried on a warm sunny Monday. One of those lovely balmy days with gentle soft clouds tossed about over the blue sky, and a tender breeze to waft the scent of flowers and the pleasant smell of fresh turned earth. It is only on such days that one can recognize the silence and scentlessness of winter. It was a day full of hope. Although sad, there was sense of coming brightness. A day easy enough, for Shaun and the others to think of the Resurrection.
The words of the burial service will always be associated in Shaun Maclaren's mind with sunshine and a broad expanse of sea. This is where her mother wanted to be buried. Next to Casey Ann at Westhill. There was no hysterical manifestations of grief or rivers of tears, such as her sisters, Pauline and Jillian had expected. They had tea at a nearby friends house, and talked about Rachel, Sandy Highfield and Luckham Downs.
Afterwards Shaun visited the cemetery on her own, found that the grave had been filled. The mound, covered with flowers, which seemed to make it less of a wrench to leave her there.
Shaun thought it looked a pleasant resting place. In the rays of the afternoon sun that rested lovingly on it, Shaun knelt among the flowers and whispered her last Good-bye.