Previous Chapters: 1&2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10
2030 - An eventful year
It was early evening in the outback and the sun was sinking below the horizon, silhouetting the eucalyptus trees that surrounded the shack that Bindi called home.
It’d a been a busy day for Bindi, giving many instructions to Gurumarra for the feeding and shearing of the sheep, and the purchase of vaccines. Today she’d worn an attractive loose flowery skirt and pale pink, short sleeved top. She’d clearly stuffed something inside her bra cups because she had a very attractive bustline. Gurumarra never commented on her clothes, shrugging it off as a strange habit of these white folk.
After washing today’s clothes and hanging them out to dry, she changed into a comfortable summer dress and a pair of low heeled, slingback shoes.
Bindi’s washing line was a strange mixture of skirts, blouses, bras and panties, and
Gurumarra’s working trousers and old shirts.
She sat in a wicker chair on the porch to read the newspapers that had arrived with the flying doctor the previous day.
The Sydney Morning Herald had the usual news of drug related gang fights, automobile accidents and public anger over high level political corruption. She laid the paper down and picked up The Bideford & Little Shipley Evening Chronical.
It was mainly local news: the forthcoming local Boy Scouts Jamboree, names of the Women’s Institute’s newly elected board of directors and the fund-raising drive to repair the church organ at St Michaels. She turned to the Death Notices & Obituaries on the back page where a familiar name caught her eye – Agatha St John Peters. She was surprised, but not overly sad, to read of her sister’s death and her burial at St Michaels. Skimming through the obituary she saw that Agatha had bequeathed Fairbourne Hall and all her property to her bother Dennis.
Bindi took another long swig of her way-a-linah, the local aboriginal cider-like drink and she thought long and hard.
Her court case against Rolly’s Will had been a disaster…maybe she could try another tactic to get her hands on some of the St John Peters’ wealth that she knew rightly belonged her.
Yes, instead of a full-frontal attack she could try a more subtle way: she would calmly explain her plight and ask Dennis if he would be prepared to share at least a little of his newly found fortune with her. Agatha had always been a stiff, disagreeable person as an adult, but she remembered Dennis as an easy going, rather effeminate lady’s hair stylist. Maybe he’d be an easy touch.
Bindi didn’t sleep much that night and as the sun crept up over the horizon, she made an important decision: she was going to visit Dennis at Fairbourne Hall and throw herself at his mercy, playing on his heart strings and emotions.
Throwing all caution to the wind, Bindi sold all her sheep at give-away prices and, much to Gurumarra’s surprise she donated the sheep station, the shack and the battered pickup truck to him. He couldn’t believe his luck.
He hugged Bindi and wished her well.
When the flying doctor arrived on his next visit, she persuaded him to give her a lift back to Sydney. As she tearfully bade goodbye to Gurumarra, he gave Bindi a big kiss on her cheek, which made her burst into tears.
After the long flight to Sydney, Bindi went straight to the airport but was disappointed when the booking clerk informed her that all flights to England were full for the next 10 days, this being the holiday season. Bindi made a quick calculation: 10 days at a hotel in Sydney, plus food, airfare and travelling expenses down to Devonshire – it was a lot, so she only bought a one-way fare.
Settling in on the 5th floor of the Sydney Ibis Budget Hotel, she contemplated her trip.
Every morning the dark-haired cleaning lady, neatly dressed in black uniform and white shoes, would knock on the door, call out “Housekeeping”, and ask if she could enter to clean the room: Bindi had nowhere to go and nothing to do all day, so she chatted with Dianne, the cleaning lady, as she worked. They got on well together.
Next day Dianne seemed sad and preoccupied – she wasn’t her usual self.
“What’s the matter, Dianne,” Bindi asked, “you seem quiet today.”
“My mother’s sick – she lives in Melbourne. I asked my supervisor if I could go to take care of her, but she refused permission. It’s the busy season and there’s no one to cover for me” she explained forlornly.
A spark of an idea hit Bindi.
“What about if I cover for you, doing all your rounds and cleaning all your rooms? I’ll do it for free!”
Dianne was delighted with the idea, and upon finishing her rounds for day, she changed into her street clothes and lent Bindi her uniform and shoes, gave her the key to the cleaning equipment room and hotel master room key, thanked her profusely and went off to make plans for her five-day trip to Melbourne.
Bindi was over the moon! Five whole days of cleaning! There were 16 rooms! It was a dream come true.
Bindi dyed her hair a nice dark colour to match Dianne’s hair colour and she was all set.
Next morning at 8 am sharp, Bindi, dressed in Dianne’s uniform and shoes, unlocked the equipment room, and trundled out her trolley full of clean towels, little bottles of shampoo, toilet rolls, brooms, mops, rubber gloves and spray bottles of cleaning liquids. Bindi looked very smart in her black smock, edged in white at collar and sleeves, white apron edged in lace and a cute cap.
Going from room to room she swept, vacuumed, mopped, polished mirrors, made beds, changed towels, scrubbed toilets and tiles, and a host of other details that Dianne had overlooked. She took great pleasure in scrubbing out the bottom rails of the sliding shower doors which were grey with accumulated grime. She loved folding the end of the toilet paper into a pointed shape.
Dianne had given her some little cards which she filled in by hand and left on each bed:
“I hope you have an enjoyable stay!
Your housemaid: Bindi”
It was heaven on earth! Five wonderful days of cleaning! The only unfortunate experience was when a businessman in room 514 pinched her bottom and offered her 100 US dollars to take a shower with him.
Bindi was a good girl and politely refused.
Bindi wanted to look her best for the exciting flight to London, so the day before her flight she made an appointment at a lady’s hair salon near the airport, choosing Curls by Natasha in Botany Road.
She was delighted with the results; her gleaming blond hair was fluffed out in a gorgeous full style which surrounded her face with wonderful bouncy curls with the locks falling gently to her shoulders.
For travelling, Bindi had splashed out and bought an elegant fawn coloured suit with a figure-hugging skirt that reached to just below her knees, and a cute two buttoned jacket, with a discreet white silk blouse. Many admiring heads swiveled around when she arrived at the airport and click clicked across the marble floor to the check-in counter, wearing her beige pumps.
Bindi queued at the check-in and when it was her turn, she presented her documents to the friendly assistant who weighed her bag, confirmed her flight number and seat number, and checked her passport. He glanced back up at Bindi then once again at the passport which clearly stated Kevin William St John Peters.
The Assistant frowned and said discreetly “Err, miss, it seems that your picture…”
“Oh, that!” Bindi broke in, smiling sweetly, “I hope that’s no problem - I like to travel comfortably in elegant clothes. I had my hair done especially for the trip.”
Studying her passport carefully, the assistant held it up and compared it to Bindi’s facial features.
“Just one moment, please.” And the assistant walked over to his supervisor and whispered a few words. Coming over to the desk, the supervisor smiled in a friendly manner, looking at the passport with an experienced eye, then carefully studying Bindi’s face.
The man who was waiting behind Bindi in the queue, sighed loudly and muttered to himself “What the hell is holding things up?”
“Fine!” decreed he supervisor and informed the check-in assistant that all was in order.
Arriving at the body scan Xray cabin she confidently walked in and held her hands above her head, knowing that the attendants rarely checked the passport photo. She knew that she was an attractive woman and would pass as such.
Exiting the cabin, the attendant asked Bindi to kindly step to one side and called a female officer over.
“I hope you don’t mind, Miss, we need to perform a quick body pat down. If you wish, we can carry this out in a private room.”
Bindi declined and was patted down by the female officer who nudged the back of her hand into Bindi’s crotch, where she clearly felt Bindi’s male package.
Apparently satisfied, the officer waved her through with a smirk.
Dear readers. What Bindi didn’t know, is that all over the world, the Xray machine attendant flips a switch as each person enters the cabin. The position of this switch indicates, in the attendant’s opinion, if the passenger is male or female. He had decided that Bindi was female, but the Xray machine’s algorithm had detected a crotch bulge that was inconsistent with a female body.
Crossdressing air passengers be aware!
At last Bindi arrived at her seat on board the Boeing 747, where a kindly gentleman lifted her lilac-coloured cabin case into the overhead compartment for her. She smiled sweetly and thanked him.
She settled into her window seat and was flipping through the airline magazine, when a 30ish well-dressed man sat down next to her.
It was a long tiring flight to Heathrow Airport but the man next to her introduced himself as Brett Dowsing and they chatted agreeable about their families and reasons for travelling to the UK. She gave her name as Bindi and invented a story that she was visiting family in Devonshire, while he explained that he travelled a lot on business and would be in London for just a few days for a meeting. He told her that he lived in Hunters Hill which Bindi knew to be the most elegant area of Sydney. He “accidentally” let slip that he was divorced with no children.
Feeling that she should correspond with a few personal details herself, she said that she was single, and her family had their mansion near Exeter.
They hit it off very well, Brett easing himself nearer to Bindi, while she smiled demurely, enjoying her second martini on an empty stomach. Brett was drinking scotch on the rocks and after the third one, when Bindi stood to go to the lavatory, he casually placed his hand on Bindi’s cute derriere. He was flirting outrageously but who could blame him? Dear reader, wouldn’t you flirt with such an attractive lady as Bindi?
Bindi panicked inside! Should she protest at Brett having touched her backside? She decided to smile coyly.
In fact, after returning unsteadily to her seat, they resumed their chuckling and touching.
Dear readers.
Due to her strict upbringing, the writer of this story is mortified by this flagrant behavior – I find it so embarrassing to relate.
Please understand that my father was a Baptist minister and my mother, bless her soul, was a Sunday School teacher all her life. Music & dance, alcoholic beverages, cigarettes, television, radio, computers and immodest clothing were all forbidden in our household, and until I was dishonorably dismissed, I was studying to be a nun.
But I am duty bound to inform you that Bindi was so wanton that she…she…she, placed her hand on Brett’s thigh. There! I’ve said it!
Before landing, Bindi had to request another customs declaration form from the flight attendant after filling it in incorrectly:
In block capitals she’d filled in her name as Bindi St John Peters.
Brett had caught a glimpse of Bindi’s passport as she wrote out the details on the immigration form – noting the name as Kevin William St John Peters and made a mental note of it.
They parted on friendly terms and Brett gave Bindi his business card, asking if he could call her sometime.
Dear readers. I am deeply embarrassed to admit that Bindi was tipsy, and as they parted, she gave Brett a kiss on the cheek! The shameless young thing.
Exiting the airport, Bindi took a bus to Exeter, sleeping and snoring most of the trip. Upon arrival, she checked in at the Blue Ball Inn which had a few rooms to rent; she was exhausted, her mouth was parched, and she had a splitting headache: she kicked her pumps off, flopped down on the bed fully clothed and fell into a deep dreamless sleep.
She was still on Australia time and slept late the next day, rising at noon, and then enjoyed a large cheeseburger, salad and chips with a glass of red wine in the pub downstairs.
After lunch she checked out, called for an Uber, and set off for Fairbourne Hall, full of foreboding.
How would she be received?
Would Dennis still be angry with her?
Would she have to return to Australia penniless?
Chapter 12