Hearts Desire

By Carmenica Diaz

Once again, Giesma (the magical catalyst for gender change from Other Shoes) makes a reappearance.
However, this time, he appears in the period immediately following the Second World War where he changes lives.
A light romantic TG tale set in a bygone era.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Mar 29, 2017
• ISBN: 9781326991098

Book preview

Hearts Desire

Hearts Desire

Carmenica Diaz

EPUB Edition

Copyright © 2017 Lulu Press

All rights reserved.

ISBN: 978-1-326-99109-8

Though you don't believe your eyes

As your mind's taken by surprise

But there's a reason to the rhyming of

Your heart’s desire

Though it seems too good to last

Don't write it off too fast

For there's a method to the madness of

Your heart’s desire

Yes...

I guess it's out of our hands

Though we try to understand

It's not for us to know

Where the night is going

Though you may say that it's not what you're looking for

How can you be so sure?

How can you be so sure

In your heart that this isn't it?

In your plans it just won't fit

So you keep on second guessing it

Your heart’s desire

Cause you don't believe your eyes

As your mind's taken by surprise

But there's a reason to the rhyming of

Your heart’s desire

Your heart’s desire

Hearts Desire – Ron Sexsmith

Life in a Northern Town

When I used to think back to my childhood in the North, I saw the scenes of that old life in dark shades of grey and, sometimes, stark black and white. As far as my memories were concerned, any flash of colour in that life was, seemingly, non-existent.

Now, my life appears vivid, so full of the rippling shades of a colourful, exuberant life that I sometimes think back on how it all came to this!

But how did it come to this? How did my life merge from black and white to glorious Technicolour?

Perhaps, one of the reasons why my childhood memories are grey, was I was born in 1929 and grim days of the Second World War dominated memories of my early years.

Or was it that I always felt unsure and out of place, even though my Mother and father were, in their own ways, loving parents.

The war infiltrated everything!

Even as a child, I could sense the black cloud that hung over everyone. Everything was grim and men vanished into the armed services, heeding the call to arms and immediately enlisting.

Suddenly, men were no longer on the streets or in that long line trudging back from the shipyards. No men after a long day of hard work, leaned against the door to the pub, half full pints in their big beefy hands. Young men had suddenly vanished, leaving a few older men, women and the children.

My father could not enlist, although he tried twice! He had a slightly crippled left hand, the result of an accident at the shipyards so he was not, he was brutally told, fighting material.

Mum was pleased, although she tried not to show it but Da was deeply disappointed.

The recruiting sergeant had kindly told Da his job was important and he could help the war effort by building bigger and better ships for the Royal Navy and the Merchant Marine!

Da was a dour man who focussed on his work. Later, I saw that his entire life revolved around the shipyards and the Workers Union.

During my childhood, in the war years, I remember him coming home late at night and he and Mum would sit around the radio, listening to news. Even as a boy, I could tell it was important and sad so I kept to myself.

It was a truly dark time.

I was an only child and a little sickly. I spent most of my time indoors and devoured books. As a result, unlike many other boys, I flourished at school and always received good marks.

When I neared the final year at school, one of the teachers took me aside and pointed out that the shipyards gave scholarships to university.

‘Won’t I have to go into the Army?’

‘The war is almost over, lad and if you’re in university, you won’t have to do National Service.’

‘University?’ I had said, aghast. ‘Don’t be daft! They don’t take anyone from up here! It’s only those southern folk who go…’

‘Not so. They do take folk from here, lad, they do. I have the papers for the scholarship. You have to get your Da and Ma to sign them, mind!’

My father looked at me suspiciously after I nervously explained about the scholarship.

‘University?’

‘Ronnie has been doing well at school,’ Mum said quickly. ‘You know that, Da!’

‘Aye,’ he said slowly. ‘University?’ Da said again.

I nodded.

‘You’d have to go down there?’ His nose wrinkled with disgust. Da could not bring himself to mention south or even London. He had a true Northern dislike for anyone south of Scarborough.

‘Yes,’ I said.

‘And who’d be paying for all this gallivanting about in places no sane folk venture?’

‘The…the shipyard would,’ I said hesitantly. ‘It’s a scholarship!’

Dad frowned suspiciously. ‘I…well, I’m not sure…’

‘Oh let him!’ Mum said with exasperation. ‘He’s set for university! He’d be the first in all our families, love, and he won’t have to go into the army! It’s a good thing!’

‘Maybe,’ my father said slowly. ‘No one gives anything away for nothing! What do they want?’

‘I’d…I’d have to work for the shipyards…in the office…’

‘Nay! In the bloody office?’ My father’s face wrinkled with disdain and disgust. ‘In the office? Not in the yards?’

‘Ah, no…they…’

‘A book Johnny in the office?’

I nodded again.

‘It’s a mad world, I tell thee!’

Grudgingly, he signed the papers and Mum gave me a proud kiss.

‘I’ll talk him round, lad,’ she whispered. ‘He’ll be proud of thee once you’re off to university!’

I wasn’t so sure I would win the scholarship, as the local shipyards gave out scholarships to three local boys each year and I thought I would be very lucky to be one of the three.

2.

I walked down the grimy streets to collect the post and nervously took the spotlessly white letter home, simply afraid to open it.

Standing in that cobbled street, I clutched the envelope and looked up at the cranes from the shipyard – strange bird-like skeletons against the grey sky.

The shipyards loomed large over the town and were the only employer. There were, of course, people who owned or worked in the pubs and shops but most local lads ended up in the yards while the lasses married and produced more potential shipyard workers.

‘Open it, love,’ Mum encouraged, hovering while she twisted her apron through worried fingers.

‘Shouldn’t I wait for Da…’

‘Nay! I can’t wait that long! Open it!’

My fingers shook and I fumbled at the envelope.

Mum snatched the envelope from me, deftly tore it open and handed it back.

I couldn’t believe it when I read the formal words.

‘Ma…’ I croaked.

‘What is it? Tell me, lad, I’m about to die from the unknown!’

‘I…I…they’ve taken me! I’m…I’m going to university!’

Mum hugged me fiercely with tears in her eyes.

Of course, I had tried to express my gratitude to the manager of the shipyard who presented me with the scholarship envelope while my proud parents and neighbours looked on.

‘T…thank you so much,’ I said breathlessly.

‘Not at all, lad,’ the manager said, obviously keen for a glass of ale with the lads down at The Bull and Terrier so he brushed my fumbling words aside. ‘We only have you this year. No others applied,’ he said with a grin. ‘Lads would rather work in the yard and earn real money!’

‘N…no others?’

‘A few lasses applied! Lasses, mind! As if we’d waste money sending girls to university! No women work in the yards! It’s sad modern times we have here, lad, when girls apply to university!’

‘It…it is 1947…’ I ventured. ‘Women could…’

‘Not in my time, lad, a lasses place is by her man and caring for the wee folk! We can’t have lasses going to university or working in the yards!’

‘T…they worked in the yards in the war, didn’t they?’

‘Aye,’ he said darkly.

‘But…why…’

‘But that was war, lad! Now we’ve kicked Hitler in the balls, it’s time to get back to what’s normal! We all want a normal life again!’

3.

And so, I found myself in university!

At first, I was over awed. It didn’t help that many of my fellow students could not understand my northern accent. Studiously, I worked to erase the accent as quickly as I could.

There were only five girls in our entire year of students and I remembered what the shipyard manager had said. It seemed that the modern woman was not going to settle for the circumstances of their mothers!

I first saw Sylvia Belrose one rainy afternoon in the library. Sylvia stood out, even amongst the other women as she was sleekly attractive and very self-assured.

Of course, I knew who she was.  Sylvia’s brother, Laurence Belrose, the heir to the title of Lord Belrose, was in the year ahead of us.

We met one afternoon when I was sitting at a table in the local cafe, struggling through "Paradise Lost". Sylvia and two young men sat at another table.

I overheard one chap suggest to Sylvia that it was a waste of time sending girls to university as they would end up married and sprogged up!

‘Then, the children will receive the benefit of a classical education,’ Sylvia said sweetly. ‘I solemnly promise I will read Aristotle to my children rather than three blind mice!’

I spluttered in my tea and, grinning, Sylvia pounced on me.

‘You, you with your face in the teacup! Have we been introduced?’

‘I…I don’t think so. I’m Ronald Brayshaw…’

‘Ronald? Sorry, but you look like a Ronnie to me,’ she said with a cheeky grin.

‘Then, Ronnie I will be,’ I said gallantly.

After that, Sylvia and I sat together during several lectures and I immediately saw she was very intelligent and could, if given half the chance, achieve far beyond any of the males.

I enjoyed her cheeky sense of humour and she, I think, enjoyed mine. Sylvia loved to tease me about my accent.

‘Perhaps, I should get lessons to remove it,’ I hesitantly suggested.

‘Why on earth for! It’s you, Ronnie!’

We got on like a house on fire but there was never any hint of romantic involvement.

Sylvia, of course, faced that issue head on.

‘I like you, Ronnie,’ she announced