Lady Ann's Holiday - Chapter Fourteen

Choices & Consequences

1

Being Burt had, from the first, been an exercise of extremes for Ann. At any moment, in this life, he was subjected either to hardship, humiliation or great pleasure. But there were only four full days left of being Burt and he was determined to make the most of them!

Which was why he’d got Mavis dressed up in her frilliest outfit and taken her, at the crack of dawn, on the train to York racecourse.

In Ann’s life as a cultured lady, a day at the races had not been something that had appealed but now that he wasn’t so stuck up he appreciated the frenetic pace and the thrill of betting. Mavis was having a whale of a time – she’d never been out of Griply in her life. York racetrack was like a trip to the moon to her. It made Ann proud that he’d been the one to bring her here and show her all this – that he’d done this sort of thing already because he was a man of the world.

They watched the horses being paraded out then placed their bets on the first race. Mavis screeched in triumph when her horse passed the finish line first, hurling her arms round Ann’s shoulders and kissing him roughly on the lips.

Ann thrust his tongue down the bawdy girl’s throat and gripped her buttocks, lifting her off the floor, chucking when he heard an elderly lady tutting at their lewd behavior.

There were several races across the morning and Ann did well, chatting to other men in the crowd for tips then betting chunks of cash on those horses his inside information told him would do well. And he won big, doubling the money he’d brought! It was chuffing marvelous!

He wondered if he’d still want to get up to such fun when he turned back into Lady Ann or whether he’d only want to do boring shite again. He snogged Mavis again hard, wishing this pleasure could go on forever.

And why the devil couldn’t it? As long as he held on to the amulet, Ann and Burt could swap like this whenever they wanted. With some cash slipped his way for the trouble, Ann was sure Burt could be persuaded to go on trading lives for a fortnight here and there forever. She could slip into the life of a peasant whenever she wanted for the rest of her days!

Now that was an exciting prospect – getting entirely the best of both worlds!

2

When Burt followed Lord Hurley out of the hotel she had expected something of the order of a stroll along the promenade prior to lunch at a quaint café, not a ride in a motor car of all things!

She’d only ever see one twice in her life and they’d never owned one at Griply Hall. She couldn’t believe the sight of it with Richard standing there proudly, strapping his goggles into place. “I wanted to do something with you that approached the splendor of your divine beauty and delicate personality.”

Burt blushed and Lord Hurley took her hands.

“But then I realised that nothing I could do could match those qualities.” He looked her deeply in the eyes. “I realized that the best I could hope for was to wow you… a little.”

But giggled and Lord Hurley put his arm round her, leading her to the car. They got in and Richard started the engine. With a burst of speed they pulled away from the edge of the road and Burt cried out in alarm, clutching Richard’s arm as he laughed deeply.

“Watch this my dear!” he cried, pressing down on the accelerator until they were zooming along. “We’re going thirty miles an hour!”

“Richard! Slow down!” cried Burt, clutching on to him more tightly.

But Richard laughed even louder, pressing down harder on the accelerator, taking the car even faster than Burt could have imagined.

“Richard! Please! We’ll be killed!”

But Richard laughed all the more. “This is it my dear, maximum speed. I’m pushing… I’m pushing forty five miles per hour now!”

“Oh my God! It’s not natural!”

He slowed down, still chuckling, looking at her affectionately. “You really are a sweetheart Ann dear. I don’t think I’ve ever known a lady to be so delicate and feminine.”

Burt’s eyes widened for a moment, then she snuggled up against Lord Hurley’s arm and smiled to herself as they shot along the seafront.

3

Ann was riding high, striding proudly along through the crowds with Mavis on his arm, seeing the jealous looks of other men eyeing the cleavage she brazenly had on show. But they couldn’t have her. Mavis was his woman. She was all his. And he was her man.

“Where ye takin me?” she asked, her voice shrill to be heard over the blabber of the crowds.

“Just you wait and see my girl,” replied Ann, grinning broadly at the anticipation, hurrying along. The clouds were dirtying up and he wanted to be indoors before the weather broke.

He took her up to the fancy restaurant doors and turned triumphantly. “Ere,” he said, “I thought it was past time you got treated like a proppa lady, like wot Lady Ann is. So I’m gonna take yer inside ere and buy ye the poshest dish on’t menu! What do ye reckon to that luv, eh?”

“Oh Burt!” Mavis squeeled in delight and threw her arms round him, kissing him again on the lips. “Ye’re the best bloke a lass could ave!”

Ann grabbed her by the wrist and pushed up to the door but the doorman barred the way. “Sorry son. We don’t have your sort in ere, you should know that.”

“No,” said Ann, increasingly exasperated. “I’m sick a’this! I’ve got chuffing money to spend! Now get outta me way and let us pass or I’ll knock yer ruddy block off!”

“Burt,” whined Mavis, “Come one. Let’s go and get an ‘otdog instead.”

“No!” snapped Ann. “It ain’t right! I’ve got money to burn and I should ave a right t’sit in there as much as any bloody toff! I ain’t getting turned away no more! Now get out me way you great ugly tyke! I’m not avin’ you make a fool a’ me in front of my lass!”

“I warned ye,” said the doorman and punched Ann hard in the face, squirting blood from out of his nose and sending him stumbling back.

“Burt!” screamed Mavis.

Ann staggered, dazed then snarled and rushed back at the doorman, baring his fists. But the doorman was used to this kind of attention and easily sidestepped Ann’s angry assault. He parried another of Ann’s blows then smashed him hard once more in the bridge of his nose, cracking the bone.

Ann saw splinters of light as he fell back then landed hard on the cobbles.

Mavis screamed again and crouched next to him, nursing him as he prodded miserably at the bloody mess on the front of his face.

“That’s the thing with ruffians like you,” said the doorman. “You swagger around making out like you’re cock of the walk, lording yourself around, then one day you meet someone bigger who puts ye in yer place.”

Ann glared up at him feeling cowed and intimidated, pushing Mavis’s helping hands out of the way irritably.

He got up, still feeling dizzy and pushed angrily off through the crowds, not caring if Mavis was following, feeling agonizing pain and humiliation. There were grins and chuckles from all around at the beat down; people laughing at him and he hung his head in shame, pressing on.

Ann and Mavis ended up eating hotdogs that were both burnt and cold, trying to shelter under an awning in the drizzling rain.

“It don’t matter Burt,” said Mavis. “It’s the thought wot counts.”

“Shut up,” snapped Ann, wincing at the pain across the front of his face.

“We’ve ‘ad a good day,” said Mavis.

“Not yet we ain’t replied Ann, walking off through the crowds with Mavis struggling to keep up.

He marched up to the betting kiosk and emptied his pockets onto the counter. “Ere mate. Put this lot down on Ragged Muffin to win. I’ve got a good feelin about ‘er.”

“Burt,” are you sure?” whinged Mavis.

“Course I am. Now shut it. The race is startin.”

“But that’s an awful lotta money.”

Ann flashed a toothy grin. “It’s gonna be a right lot more in a minute. Then I’ll bloody buy that restaurant! This ‘orse is twenty to one against. When she wins we gonna get a fortune!”

They went to the bar and watched the horses shoot past on the first lap, cheering Ragged Muffin as loud as they could, Ann’s fist in the air. But by the time the horses were round the first bend, Ragged Muffin was already lagging behind.

On the second lap there had to be a hundred yards between Ragged Muffin and the rest of them.

Ann just stared, his face colouring beetroot red as Mavis kept repeating, “You idiot Burt. You stupid bloody idiot!”

4

Burt enjoyed the delicacies on the menu in the most expensive restaurant in Brighton as Richard regaled her with humourous tales from his days as an army officer.

The trifle they brought out for desert was simply to die for. Burt didn’t think her tongue would survive the impulse of flavor as she swallowed.

As the incredible climax to the meal, a cello quartet suddenly set up around their table, playing an excerpt from a wonderful concerto by Edward Elgar. Burt was overwhelmed by Richard’s romance and didn’t pull away as Richard slipped his hand into hers as the music played.

Burt felt a swelling in her chest, a deep warmth that spread out into her limbs, leaving her feeling almost faint. As the music came to an end she gazed adoringly at Richard as he gazed back at her.

Then Burt frowned and in response Richard’s expression fell too. “What is it my dear? Whatever’s wrong?”

“I’m afraid… I’m afraid I must go back to London,” said Burt.

“Oh. That’s unfortunate,” replied Richard. “But by no means a barrier.” He smiled. “By coincidence, my… business here in Brighton is also concluding. I’m sure we might find ourselves bumping into one another in the capital.” He chuckled.

“No,” said Burt.

“No? What do you mean?”

“I mean that you must forgive me but I won’t be able to see you in the London or anywhere else again.”

Richard sat forward. “Surely you don’t mean that my dear?”

“I’m afraid I do. I’m sorry. You don’t know… how sorry I am.”

“But Ann… I thought… Forgive me but I thought we shared a most special connection.”

A tear formed at the edge of each of Burt’s eyes. “I did too. But… I must go. There is nothing else for it.”

Burt got up to leave but Richard grasped her wrist. “My dear… I must know… Is there someone else?”

“Oh Richard,” replied Burt, her voice cracking with emotion, “Dearest Richard. If only it were so simple.”

5

Ann and Mavis sat sullenly and silently on the train on the way back to Griply, Ann still nursing his aching nose and dabbing at the blood that periodically dribbled into his moustache with a soiled handkerchief he’d found under one of the seats.

Ann felt humiliated in so many ways. Not by sitting in third class. He’d got used to the fact that he wasn’t good enough for first class anymore. It had been being physically bested that had done it more than anything. Up until then, Ann had felt like he was indomitable, a prime example of virile manhood. Being beaten so soundly in front of that crowd and his Mavis had whipped out all that confidence in one awful moment. His head ached something chromic and if his nose looked anywhere near as bad as it felt then what looks Burt had would be ruined.

He’d been turned away from so many places already but he’d worked himself up to really thinking he would get in to the restaurant that time – idiot that he was. Being refused entry after boasting he’d get them in to Mavis was mortifying.

And then the race.

It really had been dimwitted to bet all the money he had on him on a twenty to one horse. Mavis had told him he was a moron and Ann had certainly proved the lass right.

They got off the train in Griply and trudged into the village in the rain. Mavis still wasn’t speaking to Ann and when they got to the Dog & Pony, she didn’t even say goodbye.

Ann didn’t know whether to walk back to the hall or wait out the rain but he ducked inside out of sight when he saw the Earl, her father, watering his horse as a trough outside the chapel.

Ann didn’t have any cash on him at all now so he sat in the window, staring out at the grey clouds, wishing they’d hurry up and depart.

Ten minutes later he spotted Mavis laughing and flirting with a man at the other side of the pub, touching him with her fingers as she threw her head back giggling shrilly. Ann almost went over there but he’d seen the look on Mavis’s face on the train home and didn’t want to risk a balling out. Mavis went on chatting and flirting with the bloke and then Ann saw the exchange of coins and Mavis leading the man out to the alley.

Ann got to his feet in a rage and marched out after them, catching Mavis as she was lifting up her skirts while the man fumbled greedily with his belt buckle.

“Ere you!” cried Ann. “Keep the chuff away from my woman!” He punched the man in the side of the head, sending him sprawling.

“Burt! Leave ‘im!” screeched Mavis.

Ann kicked him in the stomach, hurling him back and charged forward to kick him again.

“Burt! He’s a customer!”

Ann whirled. “Customer!? Customer!? You’re my chuffin woman! You belong to me! You can’t bloody give it away to all in sundry! Not if I’ve got somethin to say about it!”

“Then you give me some money like ye said you was gonna! Come on! You stump up with some cash and he can go his own way!”

Ann glared at her. They both knew his pockets were empty.

“That’s what I thought!” snapped Mavis, putting her fists on her hips. “Then get lost Burt! A girl’s got a living to make and me da don’t pay nearly enough in’t pub.”

Ann glowered at her testily then looked down at the man who was trying to get up. Rage consumed his heart again, clouding his vision and he leapt at the man, kicking him over and over again in the stomach, lifting him up off the floor in his anger.

“What the devil is going on here!?”

Ann froze. They all did.

Then ever so slowly, Ann looked up to the entrance to the alleyway to see the earl, her father, standing there witnessing the whole debacle with his riding crop in his hand, his face alight with indignation.

6

Burt went up to her room in the hotel feeling inconsolable, tears threatening to run down her cheeks. But she had to say no to Richard. She couldn’t let it play out any longer. It had already gone on far far too long. She had an obligation to the one true Lady Ann.

Any hope of a continuing acquaintance with Lord Hurley was out of the question. She wasn’t the lady of the manor, no matter how much she looked and acted like it; felt like it. She was Burt Harper. She was an idiot clodhopper stable hand. Anything else was fancy and absurdity!

She had to go back to London and back to Yorkshire; back to her old life. And she could never… never ever see Lord Hurley again.

For fear of what might happen if she did…

She paused in the hallway outside the door of the suite and quieted herself, drying her tears. When she was fully composed she pushed open the door and entered to find Gladys fussing about, packing the cases.

“Oh they you are m’lady. I was wonderin’ if we might miss the train if ye weren’t back soon.”

“Yes Gladys,” replied Burt quietly. “I expect we shall make the train now.”

“By my word m’lady, it makes me heart swell to think a’you and that Lord ‘Urley together. You make such a pretty couple and he’s right successful so they say. I bet he’ll set you up with a bob or two if things go well. Why I’d wager he’s a millionaire! And once the two of you are married—”

“Shut up you idiot girl!” screamed Burt.

Gladys quailed, her eyes reddening as she flinched back. “I’m sorry m’lady.”

“Sorry? Sorry!? You should be ashamed of yourself!” snapped Burt. “How dare you!? Do you really think I would be interested in the gossip of a maid? Well?”

“… No m’lady.”

“No! Then I’ll thank you to keep quiet! Is that understood?”

“Yes m’lady.”

“If I’m not mistaken you let that ignorant yokel Burt Harper have his wicked way with you; am I right?”

Gladys hung her head.

“Gladys!”

“Yes m’lady.”

Burt pointed at her. “That is all the kind of man that someone of your low birth can expect! That is the kind of pathetic specimen that you will waste your life with – or someone like him! All you peasants are the same! And you see fit to advise me on whom I should marry!” She folded her arms tightly. “I’ve never heard anything so preposterous in my life!”

“Yes m’lady. Sorry m’lady.” Gladys was crying silently now.

“Get out of my sight you ignorant girl!” yelled Burt. “Go and dream of romance at your own level as an ignorant lower class bumpkin!”

Gladys fled the room in tears and Burt went to the window, turning back the curtain in her fingertips, tears trickling down her own cheek.

“Let me dream of the pure love of the upper classes on my own,” she whispered.

7

Ann gaped in horror at the earl, realizing how awfully bad this looked.

His father owned all the land hereabouts. He was responsible for every man and woman who lived there. And now he had found Ann kicking one of these subjects repeatedly when he was down.

“Answer me!” bellowed the earl. “What is the meaning of this?”

Ann couldn’t speak. Every muscle in his body had locked rigid in terror. He knew his father. He had watched the earl dealing with wayward servants his whole life as girl and woman. But he wasn’t a woman now. He wasn’t the earl’s daughter. He was Burt Harper. He was a mere stable hand, the lowest of the low, and he had been caught red-handed beating this man before him.

“I’m sorry m’lord,” stammered Ann, his head lowered in shame and fear. “But he done me wrong and—”

“I don’t care what your excuse is you miserable cur!” cried the earl, raising his riding crop. “I’ll not have one of my servants attacking a man!” He swiped it down on Ann’s head then again on his raised arms; again on his back as he turned to shield himself.

“How does this feel you blackguard!? How does this feel when you are the one who are attacked!? It’s not so easy when the shoe is on the other foot, is it!?”

“I’m sorry m’lord,” cried Ann. “Please! I’m sorry!”

“Oh you will be sorry my lad!” The earl snatched forward and grabbed Ann by the ear, wrenching him agonizingly forward and forcing him to cry out in pain. The earl dragged him out of the alley and onto the street in front of the growing crowd of blokes who had heard the commotion and piled out of the pub. Many of them were smirking and sniggering as Ann was dragged further and further, wincing in pain, desperate to get away but knowing that he couldn’t.

Then the earl swung him round by the ear and hurled him forward so that he lost his balance and went down in the mud.

In front of the stocks.

“God, no,” whimpered Ann.

“On your feet boy!” shouted the earl. “Come on! Get up!”

“Please sir,” gargled Ann. “Please. I didn’t mean nowt by it sir. Please.”

“I said on – your – FEET!” The earl whipped Ann again with the riding crop, forcing him up.

Red faced, Ann looked across the road at his mates from the pub, all of them grinning at his predicament, laughing at what was happening. All of them were ignorant clodhoppers but every one of them thought themselves better than he was. They were better than he was!

The earl was going through the keys on his ring and when he found the one he was looking for he unlocked the padlock at one end of the stocks and lifted the upper arm on its hinge.

“Please,” said Ann. “Please sir. Don’t put me in there. I’ll do anything you say. Please.”

“Get in,” snapped the earl. “Or I’ll whip you until you do it gladly.”

This wasn’t possible! He wasn’t Burt! Couldn’t they see that!? He was Lady Ann! He was the earl’s daughter! It was only a disguise! It was all one big terrible mistake!

“Get in these stocks or so help me God I will beat you to death where you stand boy!”

He couldn’t do it! Couldn’t put his head and hands through there! He was Lady Ann! They had to understand! He had to explain it! But how could he, looking like he did? Talking like he did? They would never believe him!

But he had to! He had to!

Burt opened his mouth to say it, to say I am Lady Ann. But the words died in his throat. He hesitated – because he knew in his heart that he wasn’t Lady Ann. He was Burt Harper. He was an illiterate working man and nothing more. He’d told himself that so many times.

And that hesitation was enough.

The earl grabbed Ann by the scruff of the neck and yanked him round until he was behind the stocks then he forced his head down into it so that his neck rested on the curved central dip.

“Please sir no,” whimpered Ann.

“Put your hands in the slots boy!”

“No sir. Please sir.”

“In the slots boy, now!” The earl pinned Ann’s head in place with his strong left hand.

Eyes moist, desperate to do anything to escape, Ann felt his hands raising of their own volition. There had to be some way out of this! There had to be!

But there wasn’t. There was nothing he could do. He had no choice.

He placed first one hand and then the other into the curved slots that were meant for them then felt the weight of the upper bar swing down pinning him in place.

Pinning him in place for all to see.

And as the earl locked the padlock at the end of the stocks and walked back to his horse, Ann looked out at the assembled villagers of Griply as they pointed and laughed at his misfortune.

8

Burt kept his own counsel in the luxurious first class carriage on the train home to London and respecting her silence, grandmamma did not intrude.

She watched the gathering darkness outside as the fields and hedges blurred past becoming ever more indistinct, wishing that she could have made a different choice than she had – any other choice but to give up her darling Richard.

But she’d had to. She had no choice. She had made a solemn pact with the true Lady Ann that she would come to London for two weeks and no more. Spending any time in Lord Hurley’s company was a blatant betrayal of the real Lady Ann and Burt couldn’t do that. As a man he’d been devoted to her for far too long.

She didn’t know how often, as Burt she’d stood outside Lady Ann’s window at the front of the hall to stare up, hoping to catch a glimpse of…

That was odd.

Burt concentrated on the memory of that and found, quite alarmingly that she couldn’t quite remember looking up at the window… but she had a clear recollection of looking down out of  the window! Looking at herself – at Burt – and seeing the ignorant clodhopper spying on—

No. Wait.

Burt ran it back through her mind. It was beyond doubt.

She could remember looking out and seeing “Burt” down below and she could remember exactly what she’d been feeling at the time: irritation; scorn; disgust… loathing.

It knocked Burt right out of the remorse she was feeling and she turned away from the window, suddenly not sure what to think about anything.

9

Being locked in the stocks was the most degrading, unpleasant experience of Ann’s life.

It was uncomfortable: her back aching and the hard wood cutting into her neck and wrists. And it was humiliating; being treated like a common criminal; like a hooligan who deserved nothing but the most humiliating punishment available.

For half an hour or more, the men and women of the village poked fun at him, laughing and joking at his expense before they got tired of it and left him out there as dusk fell. Mavis took her “client” back into the alley and made sure Ann could see as he gave her a good hard rogering.

Then children came with tomatoes that were past their best, hurling them at his face as he yelled for them to scarper and they giggled, throwing more.

After an hour, Ann started to fear that the earl wouldn’t come back. The light was up in the Dog & Pony now and the square was deserted, dark closing in, the night starting to get chilly.

And then it started to rain again. The water ran down his hair and into his eyes but he couldn’t wipe it away. He couldn’t move.

Two hours later Ann was still locked up as the pub got rowdier.

He cursed the fact that he’d ever traded places with Burt – that he’d ever become a man. He couldn’t believe his stupidity that he actually chose to become and ignorant clodhopper – that he gave up his position in society and his riches for this!

If he’d still been Ann he would have been somewhere rich and opulent now – warm and comfortable – however dreary!

Oh why, oh why had he been so stupid!

An hour later it was fully dark and his nose had started to bleed again, running down onto his lips. He wasn’t getting out. He was going to stay there until the day he died. He’d die in the night. He’d never get out.

Ann opened his eyes to the sound of giggling. Mavis and her chubby friend Ethel were across the road, tittering away at his predicament.

They sauntered over, whispering to one another and giggling again.

“How does it feel to get the treatment ye deserve Burt?” asked Mavis, sneering playfully.

“Get me out of ere.”

“Only ‘is lordship can do that and it looks like he’s gone ‘ome to bed!”

Both girls burst out laughing then Mavis whispered again to Ethel and they laughed all the louder.

“What are you whispering about?” snapped Ann.

“Well we was just remarking about that cock o yours, seeing as ow we’ve both ad a taste of it.”

Ann fumed silently.

“And we was remarking that we didn’t think it was quite as big as all that.”

Both girls cackled again while Ann turned pale white then blood red in impotent fury and humiliation.

“Come on Ethel,” said Mavis. “Let’s leave this big oaf to his punishment. It suits ‘im, don’t you think?”

They walked away, arm in arm, giggling and guffawing as they withdrew and Ann looked after them in discomfort and desperation, ruing the day he ever found that stupid amulet!