Lady Ann's Holiday - Chapter Twelve

Memories

1

Ann woke up to a tremendous racket, covered in bruises and feeling awful.

After his late night fighting for money he’d gone for some hard drinking – this time shots of whisky with a couple of mates he’d made at the boxing match. Too late to find proper lodgings – and far too bladdered to see straight, let alone walk straight, Ann had stumbled into the nearest doss house.

It was just a big room with stone floor and bare brick walls, a tiny cracked window at one end, filled with narrow beds with less than a foot between each one. Ann flopped his bare hairy legs onto the floor and put his head in his hands, groaning. There was no chance of a lie in as she most likely would have had in her other life. The other men were carousing and arguing and the owner of the doss house was already going round with a stick, prodding anyone still asleep and demanding they get out.

Ann put his clothes back on, gingerly touching his bruises and wondering if it was all worth it. But it definitely had been. There was no feeling in the world as grand as punching another man down, knowing he was the toughest one of all. Though he’d taken some licks, Ann hadn’t been bested 0by anyone all evening. He’d been undefeated!

It was a primal feeling. Ann had done what men had been doing since the dawn of time – proving his manhood against all comers. He wasn’t a weak woman who needed protecting. He was a strong man – the strongest – who could hunt and destroy; the one who did the protecting.

It felt fantastic to be so powerful!

He left the doss house and wandered down to the seafront but it wasn’t a great day. It was drizzling. Ann walked with his cap down and hands in his pockets. It was still good to travel and see other places, even if it was a crappy morning.

In the end he went into an amusement arcade on the beach front and played on the fruit machines, shoving coin after coin into the slot and cheering if he made a winning.

Later on he found a prossie and gave her a few shillings for a blow job under the pier. She was a bit old and flabby but that didn’t matter with her going at it on his cock while he looked out at the sea.

The rain was dying off and a gentleman and lady came out on the beach. The woman shrieked when they saw Ann standing there getting a good seeing too but Ann just laughed and tipped his cap, holding the whore’s head in place against his cock.

“Keep goin luv,” he said. “I’m almost there.”

It really was his kind of morning!

2

Burt felt mortified and was glad they were travelling to Brighton today.

She watched the countryside go by from the comfort of their first class carriage, running back through her mind the activities of the night before.

It had felt so wonderful to feel attracted to Lord Hurley but it left Burt feeling guilty and confused. She was meant to be a man in reality, not a woman – not for real. She wasn’t meant to find another man handsome and she certainly wasn’t supposed to develop feelings for him!

But Burt had found himself daydreaming about seeing Richard again; of spending more time with him.

It wasn’t right in any way.

She reminded herself that she only had five more days pretending to be Lady Ann – pretending to be Lady Ann. After that she was going back to Yorkshire and Griply Hall and returning to her old life as Burt. Anything else – even as a brief fantasy – was wrong. She felt like she was betraying her beloved Ann even talking to him!

It confused her even more that this Lord Hurley had obviously been an old flame of the real Ann’s and still had feelings for her. Burt wondered if the real Ann remembered him and was hoping one day to marry him.

But Burt didn’t want to think about that. For years he had imagined being the one to marry Lady Ann. An alternative where she chose someone else was abominable – even if he now – if she now was in a position to accept or decline Richard’s advances.

Not that any of it mattered! Richard was in London. Burt and her grandmamma were on their way to Brighton. She probably wouldn’t even see him again!

But that made Burt awfully sad. She gazed out of the window wishing things could be different, imagining a world where she could meet with Lord Richard Hurley again and maybe even be taken in his powerful arms out onto the dance floor once more.

3

Ann lay back on a deckchair, enjoying the salty sea air and the sunshine, his waistcoat discarded and his sleeves rolled up.

Now that he’d decided to just wallow in being Burt and fully understood that the more he did so, the more manly he became he was really getting a lot of pleasure in doing it. It was like the other morning in his hotel in York when he’d masturbated while telling himself that he was Burt. It actually gave him sexual pleasure not only to imagine he was Burt but know that the very act of doing so turned him more and more into the ignorant clodhopper.

He had the safety net of Burt returning her real body at the end of the week. Nothing could go wrong and it was still an incredible experience.

Rather than just telling himself over and over again that he was Burt, Ann decided to try a different tack.

This time, he imagined what it would have been like growing up in a working class hovel among a pack of other dirty urchins, squabbling a scrabbling for food; bathing only irregularly in an old tin bath in front of the stove; getting a job at Griply Hall. He…

Ann stopped imagining and sat upright. He’d suddenly got a memory, clear as day, of arriving at the hall and meeting Harry for the first time.

Which hadn’t obviously happened to him. But he still remembered it as though it had! He could remember what Harry was wearing and… feeling nervous. He could actually remember feeling that way, meeting his new boss!

This was incredible!

Ann scanned her brain, trying to ‘remember’ more of Burt’s memories but nothing came up. All he could remember were days growing up as a little girl which irritated him immensely. It was such a profound experience, remembering something from someone else’s life – he wanted to repeat the experience.

He paused for a moment, thinking, then brightened and said to himself, “I’m Burt ‘Arper. I never was a little lass. I was born a boy and I’ve always been one.”

There! He got another flicker! This one was… Yes! This one was a… a scene from Burt’s childhood; fighting with his sister at the dinner table in a cramped little hovel. He almost remembered this sister’s name. What was it?

Ann concentrated on the scene, trying to really visual himself into it as though it was still really happening – as though it had really happened to him. That sharpened it! Yes! The sister’s name was… Clarabell!

Ann grinned to himself. This really was remarkable!

He tried again, this time attempting to picture another relative, totally absorbed by the wonder of the process, marveling again on the power of the amulet to effect such a total change.

I’m Burt. I’m a man. I’m just a stupid clodhopper. I’m not Lady Ann. I never have been. She’s quality. She’s better than the likes of me.

There!

Ann got another flash memory and this one really was remarkable. He had an uncle – here in Blackpool! Well, Burt did. What a coincidence.

It made him wonder if… It might be funny to go and visit the uncle and pretend to be Burt – see if he could pull it off!

He stroked his bushy moustache.

And it might help as a catalyst to bring up more of these Burt memories… It was so fascinating exploring the squalid life of this idiot man he had become.

4

Burt and the duchess took a walk along the promenade in Brighton and though Burt tried to hide her amazement behind a mask of gentility, she couldn’t stop looking at the sea. It was far better seeing it for real than in a picture book!

But it wasn’t quite enough to keep her mind off the night before and her meeting with Lord Hurley.

Grandmamma eyed her quietly as they walked, smiling to herself. “Can’t keep thinking about him, eh?”

“Whatever do you mean?” replied Burt.

“You can’t fool an old crone like me Ann dear. I can recognize a smitten woman when I see one. There’s nothing to be ashamed of. He is very handsome.”

Nothing to be ashamed of? Burt blushed deeply. She couldn’t be enamored with a man. It simply wasn’t possible!

“Don’t answer then,” said the duchess, “but I think we both know that’s only because you know you’d be lying if you denied it.”

Burt caught herself in a smile.

“I see that Ann. You can’t pretend with me.”

Ann couldn’t help but smile broadly at the duchess, blushing even more furiously. “I’m not interested in Lord Hurley grandmamma, I’m really not.”

“Say what you like girl – and you may even think you believe it – but I know when two people are meant to be together and I certainly saw the spark of love last night.”

Burt’s eyes opened wider with shock. Surely that couldn’t be true!

5

Ann walked through one of the rougher estates of Blackpool, allowing his thoughts to drift, not concentrating on anything in particular apart from keeping a general awareness of his current identity and manhood.

At a lower level he made himself aware of the wideness of his stride, the broadness of his shoulders, the feel of his cock in his trousers, the tickle of the wind in his moustache; his grubby clothes and his flat cap… and the more he did so the closer he came to grasping the name of the road where Burt’s uncle lived.

Then he got it! Clear as day! Ann could easily picture a scene in the kitchen when he was a little boy with his mother telling him all about where his Uncle Brian lived.

Ann shook his head to clear it. It really was incredible. The memories he was getting weren’t his – weren’t Lady Ann’s – but when he experienced them he had all the mental connections to the people and places in them.

In that memory it really felt like that doughy armed matron was his mother – that the kitchen surroundings were a nostalgic place that meant home.

It really was a remarkable experience that he reveled in! The more he caught these fleeting glimpses, the more he wanted more!

Experiencing distant memories was always a potentially powerful experience for everyone. To see and feel someone else’s was a hundred times more intense.

Ten minutes later he was knocking on Burt’s uncle’s door and waiting for an answer.

His uncle’s door. “I’m Burt,” he reiterated, knowing it would help with the memories. “He’s my uncle. He’s me mam’s brother.”

That time he got another flash memory of his mother – of Burt’s mother. This was great!

The door opened and a sun burned weather-beaten man appeared with a bare chest but braces up over his shoulders. He looked confused.

“Ey up Uncle Brian,” said Ann. “It’s me; Burt.”

“Burt? Blimey! Not Evie’s boy?”

Ann nodded.

“Ee by gum! Get in ere!”

Ann got led into the tiny parlour by the jovial man who immediately set about making a pot of tea. Burt had never been to this house in his life so Ann could bring up no memory of it but seeing Brian gave him a little ripple of memories relating to him. He’d visited his sister, Burt’s mother, when he was a little boy. Ann could remember having shoulder rides from the brawny man.

“Aye but you’ve grown some,” said Brian. “You’re a big man now and no mistake. Why there ain’t an ounce of fat on yer. Your mam’d be proud.”

Ann beamed, enjoying the complement.

They chatted for an hour or so. Ann didn’t remember much of Burt’s life – barely enough to get by in the conversation – but it enabled him to recall a whole string of details from Burt’s childhood. And it was highly enjoyable interacting with this character from Burt’s past and pretending to be him! He was treated an entirely different way here than he was in Griply where he was only the stable hand.

Here he was family! And he liked it.

Ann’s own family had never been so friendly and open. They were always so stuck up. This, by contrast, was great!

They had a bite to eat then Uncle Brian took Ann down to the dog track. They had a few bevies and put some money on the races. It gave Ann another memory of attending a similar place with his – Burt’s – father before he died. Another memory!

Ann chuckled to himself. Because the memories came with their own emotional connections, he kept thinking they were his.

It was incredible!

6

Burt waited for grandmamma in the hall, adjusting her white gloves and shawl, smiling at herself in the tall mirror.

When grandmamma was ready they went out to the coach that was waiting at the front of the house with Gladys behind. Gladys was fussing about because the show they were going to see was one her mother had taken her to see as a child. She was excited about getting the chance to see it again.

The stable hand was waiting with the horses and stepped forward to help Burt onto the coach, cap in hand. Burt accepted his help and stepped elegantly on, taking a seat inside and smiling at the duchess as she took her seat as well.

The coach pulled off and Burt’s mind wandered to the delights of tonight’s production. She’d really developed a taste for theatre since coming on this holiday and greatly looked forward to analyzing the themes that the playwright had explored on the way home and in the interval.

It was only when they were pulling up to the theatre itself that Burt realized something staggering.

She had been helped onto the coach by that stable hand but at no point had it occurred to her that she was a stable hand while it was happening. She hadn’t identified with him in any way!

7

Ann walked back from Brian’s house feeling very content.

He’d had a great day out with his uncle – with Burt’s uncle – and had even made a couple of bob on the races!

It felt so good to spend time with other blokes who saw life the same way he did and enjoyed doing similar stuff. Uncle Brian had been a right laugh and didn’t look down on him in any way. It was good to be looked on as an equal for a change. Ever since Mavis had pointed out how much people looked down on him for being a dunce it hadn’t been quite the same at the Dog & Pony. Despite his best intentions, Ann couldn’t help seeing himself as an idiot now. He knew he was one and he knew that everybody else knew it.

Being aware of that fact made Ann very conscious of it when he was talking to folks. He knew that most people – even real peasants – were probably cleverer than he was. That made him feel inferior and that scraped away at his confidence.

He wasn’t just pretending to be an inferior – he really was one – not just inferior to his station as Lady Ann – but to half the working class men and women he palled round with.

It was something that had crept up on him without him noticing – reveling in it as he was – but it was as profound a shift as any that had occurred so far.

At a deep level, Ann now knew that he was lower than other people… physically; intellectually and socially.

He really was a clodhopper and nothing more.

8

Burt and the duchess took their seats in a box overlooking the stage. The view was tremendous and there was a real buzzing atmosphere as people settled into their seats.

It was so special to be able to watch the play from such a prestigious vantage point. Burt could see the looks of envy from so many people who were all far richer than she had been as a mere stable hand. She was now superior to all of them.

Gladys was still very excited about the play starting; in fact her chattering was becoming impossible and was certainly going to ruin the performance for everyone else. Burt’s cheeks hardened as her eyes narrowed.

“Gladys,” she said, “I seem to have left my cigarettes at home. Be a dear and go and fetch them.”

Gladys looked shocked. “But m’lady… I was hoping…”

“Yes?”

“I’ll fetch some from down the street,” said the maid. “I won’t be gone long.”

“No thank you Gladys,” said Burt. “I want my cigarettes. From the house. You do understand.”

“But miss…”

“Now Gladys.”

The girl looked entirely crestfallen. “Yes m’lady.” With a sad look toward the stage she slunk off.

Burt smirked to herself, then in the corner of her eye saw that grandmamma was smirking too.

“I thought the wench would never shut up Ann,” said the old lady. “Well played.”

The house lights dimmed and Burt settled down happily to enjoy the production.