Harry's mother was sent for by one of the villagers. Thankfully, his injuries were a scraped knee and elbow, but he was visibly shaken and upset. The police were on the scene in minutes as was an emergency ambulance. The rider, a Wayne Peacock, was pronounced dead at the scene.

The Peter's/Bond cottage was several yards from the incident, but they heard the motorbike scrape along the road and hit a parked car. John, who'd been sitting talking with Jules went to see what had happened. He too, was horrified at the vision before him, but deciding he couldn't help, turned around and stopped Carol and the two girls from witnessing the horror.

“Only keep out of the way. He's a goner,” said John, who was now himself feeling upset at his recall of the episode. “I think his head's come off.”

“What?” said Jules who promptly threw up narrowly avoiding Maddy who jumped out of the way in the nick of time.

The police questioned bystanders, but none of them had seen what happened. One had seen some bloke hanging around, but it was a vague description. The neighbour who'd helped Harry, told the police about it, so he had a visit later that day.

“My son is still very upset, and with good reason, it could have been him who hit the rope not the motorcyclist,” said a very defensive Mrs Palmer.

“I'm sure he is upset, it was a horrendous thing to witness, some of my colleagues are distressed by it, but due to the seriousness of the incident we need to try and speak to any witnesses as quickly as possible. I want to catch whoever did this ….this awful thing,” said the inspector, “and the quicker we move the more chance we have.”

Mrs Palmer thought for a minute, then invited the police in. The inspector was accompanied by a policewoman, Andrea Smith. Mrs Palmer went off to get her son, leaving the two police in the lounge. “You know this kid, don't you,” the inspector asked Andrea.

“Yes, sort of, he was involved in that business with Meadows, helped Gaby Bond catch him. Nice kid, if I remember, but then they all were.”

“You don't mind if I sit in on your questions?” said Mrs Palmer, returning with a very pale looking Harry.

The police introduced themselves and the questions began. “Did you actually see what happened?”

“No, I was just around the bend in the road, but I heard it. Peacock buzzed me as he came into the village, I was riding quite fast myself……he came whizzing by, very close, shouted something, then…….bang….he was…… like….dead. I saw it a few moments later…..it was…..like…..horrible….so much, like, blood…..blood everywhere. I was shocked, an' I like, fell off my bike. It was horrible.” He stared into space, muttering, “horrible.”

“No, ‘n' I didn't see anyone after……I sorta, like, puked me heart up.”

“I'm not surprised, it was pretty gruesome. Can you think of anyone who might have wanted to hurt Mr Peacock, or who might have done this as a nasty prank, which went wrong.”

Harry broke his stare and looked straight at the inspector. “Oh I know who did it.”

“You do?” The inspector looked at Andrea, then back at Harry. “Who was it?”

“What!” exclaimed his mother. “Whoever would do such a thing, to my poor baby?”

“Mrs Palmer, if you could let me ask the questions,” the inspector gently chided his hostess. “Why do you think it was you that this trap was intended for?”

“Well, like I would have been into it a minute later, ‘n' there's enough traffic to have stopped it before, or broken it. So I think it was, like meant for….me.”

“That's him, I helped Gaby catch him. He said he'd get us. I, like, reckon…. he's tryin'.”

“Well, thank you Harry. If anything further comes to mind, please contact us won't you?” The police rose to leave, when Harry spoke loudly.

“If he's trying to kill me, what's happening with Gaby? It's her he's really pissed with…..I hope you're looking after her.” The stare in his eye had vanished and was replaced by anger…” ‘cos if he hurts her…I'll kill ‘im.”

“It's okay Harry, we'll get him. Miss Bond is still in hospital and she'll be safe there, at least from marauding murderers.” The inspector smiled to himself, he liked the little piece of alliteration, he'd have to remember that the next time he did some sort of talk or presentation.

They took their leave and in the car, the inspector spoke to Andrea. “Well what did you make of that?”

“I thought he could be right, sir.” She said as she drove back to the station.

“Well he's been threatening the Bonds, quite upset Mr Bond with threatening phone calls.”

“Has he now?” The inspector rubbed his chin; while Andrea thought he was a brainless prat, who should never have made sergeant, let alone inspector.

“I shall have to look into that,” he said to himself. “Maybe go and see this girl.”

“Geezus, thought Andrea, “ he'd get PC Plod a bad name.” Then she said, “I think that could be difficult, last I heard, she was still in intensive care.”

“Dunno sir, no one seems to know what happened but she nearly drowned. They think some hayseed pulled her out and flagged down a car on the main road. The driver brought her straight into hospital with a blue-light escort.”

“Not yet sir, it's not exactly been a priority. We thought it better to wait until Gaby was well enough to assist us.”

“It's in the notes, sir. We even had someone go out and do a quick look for possible places he could have come from. The flood water was so high, it was decided to do it again later.”

“Maybe this is late enough. I'll see what I can organise tomorrow. I'll request you are seconded to this, and who's the other constable who was involved.”

“We'll have him too.” The inspector smirked to himself. Catch this maniac, link him to the motorbike killing, and his career was made, especially if he could snatch it out from under CID's noses.

Andrea however, was shuddering, “ Working with this dick head would make traffic duty seem pleasant. Ben will do his crunch when he finds out.”

In intensive care, drips were coming down, and Drew was finally able to take off the hospital gown and put on the nightdress his mother had brought. He'd lost further weight overall, so his growing chest was even more noticeable. Jenny had helped to wash him down, and she said nothing but saw his chest. In the nightdress even Dave noticed. He said nothing.

“That's a pretty nightie,” said Maureen, “is it as comfortable as it looks?” Drew nodded. “It certainly helps your figure, Gaby,” she trilled and went off to see to another patient. Drew blushed scarlet.

“Let's leave this for another day, shall we?” said Jenny, interrupting. “Would you like me to do your hair kiddo?” She picked up his comb and brush, when he nodded.

Dave sat tight-lipped, here was his son turning into a girl before his very eyes and no one wanted to say anything about it. Okay, so she'd been ill, no, he'd been ill. “Bugger, did it really matter?” he asked himself, the answer was, “No, it most certainly did not. What mattered was the child was recovering and quickly. Gender was unimportant, life was paramount. End of conversation.”

“How about a bit of makeup?” Jenny was trying to gee up Drew. He didn't really want it, but if it made his mother happy, he'd wear it. “Want me to do it?”

“I can manage, mother,” he replied and in the next five minutes proved his point, much to Dave's amazement.

“Close your mouth dear, you'll catch flies,” said Jenny quietly to her husband as Drew transformed his face from pale waif to hot teen babe. The catheter gone, he now had to go to the toilet. His legs were still wobbly, so Jenny had to assist him into the toilet.

“Well you are looking very much better, young lady,” said Dr Mitchum. “What a pretty nightdress. I think we shall be sending you to an ordinary ward very soon, and hopefully home soon after.”

Drew was about to ask how soon, when he began to cough. “I think we need to shift a bit more of that stuff first, though.” Mitchum smiled and walked on, “Jailbait.” He said to himself.

Drew and Jenny got back to the bed and told Dave what the doctor had said. “Well that sounds like progress, if ever I heard it. I think Maddy and Jules would like to come by again, and I believe Harry was wanting to visit. I think we can say yes now, don't you?”

Drew wasn't too sure about Harry, but he felt too guilty to say anything negative. “I suppose so, as long as they know I'm still prone to nod off.”

“I honestly can't remember anything…..” Drew tried to think back, he had bits of memory, he recalled the cold water and its dark colour, he had vague recollections of a cottage and some people…an old lady, well old compared to his mum, who'd looked after him. However, it was so vague and hazy, he could just as easily have dreamt it.

A few moments later Jenny's mobile rang. She excused herself and walked out of the unit, as per hospital requirements. “Hello?” she said.

“Hello Mrs Bond, this is Inspector Dimmock from Dorset Police, I wondered how Miss Bond is doing?”

“It's funny you should ask, we only just discussed that with her, she seems to have almost complete amnesia about the whole thing.” Jenny felt hostile to this voice, and defensive of Gaby.

“Maybe, I could send PC Smith or Martin to have a chat with her, in a couple of days, just in case she has recalled anything which may be useful in discovering what happened.”

“Can you check with us first? She's showing some improvement today, but the doctors told us a relapse was possible.” “Stick that in your pipe and smoke it,” she wanted to say, but resisted the temptation.

“But of course, I'll be in touch then.” Jenny thought it sounded more like a threat than a courtesy.

She walked back in near high dudgeon. “What's the matter love?” asked Dave, spotting the change in her body language.

“That was some dumb copper, wanting to interview Gaby,” said Jenny very angrily.

“I said she wasn't ready and couldn't remember anything anyway. He said he'd call again. At least it wasn't him who was going to come, but one of the two youngsters who dealt with her before, was it Ben and Andrea? I remember signing some photos for them, I think it was Ben and Andrea. Can you remember Gaby?”

Drew still looked apprehensive about talking with the police. Last time he nearly talked himself into a sex change, next time he might be committed to one! Even Ben and Andrea might tell the others, and then he'd be sunk. He was already in a hospital, if he wasn't careful, they might do it here… cut off his…. He began to cough, and in doing so avoided the question altogether.

Two hours later, Drew was moved to a female medical ward (as opposed to surgical), where he was placed in a bed next to an old lady, who was blind and deaf. As soon as he was settled, Jenny and Dave arrived to continue their support. Drew was tired after his walk and then the move, so he kept drifting off to sleep, which was probably just as well, the old lady called for nurses and then muttered aloud to herself, when they ignored her.

The constant noise, made worse by other patients and their visitors calling abuse at the old lady, was cacophonous. Several times Jenny or Dave went to speak with the other, but it was too noisy, ending up simply shrugging.

Finally a nurse did arrive, and released the brakes on the bed. “Right Granny, let's give them all some P and Q.” The nurse was joined by two porters, who had to shout to each other, the old lady was still yelling constantly.

“EMU.” Shouted back the nurse, “Or the car park! God, my head's splitting. Just don't bring her back!”

The porters pushed the old lady in her bed, through the double doors and the noise level dropped dramatically. Dave looked at Jenny, and they both sighed with relief. “Emus, I thought they were some strange Australian birds?”

“Elderly Medical Unit,” said Jenny with some satisfaction, usually Dave was the one with answers to obscure questions.

“A little bird told me.” she sniggered, licked her finger and scored one on an imaginary score board. Dave shrugged in defeat, and she smiled broadly as she added, “I saw it on the way in. There's a big notice near the front door.” He shook his head, he must be losing it, usually he saw notices and deciphered jargon, she'd beaten him well and truly this time.

“How did, Gaby manage to sleep through all of that?” said Dave, thinking out loud. “She is just asleep isn't she?” Then in a moment of sheer panic and absolute terror, both he and Jenny, jumped up and stood at opposite sides of Drew's bed. They could see his chest rise and fall, and they heard his still troubled breathing. Dare they wake him? That was the question. They both looked at each other and each was about to touch him, then changed their mind. Finally, they both reached to touch him, and he began to cough. The synchronised recoil of both parents could well have looked rehearsed, so close was the timing. However, it was purely a reflex action.

Drew opened his eyes and sat himself up. He coughed some more and Jenny proffered the cardboard receiver. He spat into it, coughed some more and spat again. Dave felt his tummy flip, and tried desperately to think of something else.

“Can you recall it?” asked Dave, sitting back down on the hard, stacking chair which seem designed to prevent visitors staying beyond their welcome!

“I was in a strange place. It was like a hospital, but everyone there seemed to be crazy except me. They were all screaming to be let out.”

“What about you? Did you want to get out?” asked Jenny, intrigued by his story.

“No. I knew they wouldn't let me out until they'd operated on me.” Drew was looking above them.

“What sort of operation, sweetheart?” asked Jenny, Dave was too surprised to speak.

“You know,” whispered Drew, “ to make me a proper girl.” He looked around as he spoke, as if to make sure no one could overhear.

“And what did you think to that?” asked his mother, feeling a mixture of emotions.

“I wanted to get out, so I was going to let them do it?” Drew seemed to be in a state of resignation, and he closed his eyes again. He lay back, propped up with several pillows. Jenny was about to ask further questions when he began to cough again, and in the ensuing activity, it went from her mind. Once more Dave avoided looking at the slimy muck that Drew spat into the container. He closed his eyes and tried to understand what was going on, but the more he thought, the less sense it made. Was it Drew who needed a psychiatrist or everyone else?

A nurse came by to check blood pressure and temperature, “This is the young lady from ICU?” she said to Jenny.

“Well, well. A celebrity patient.” She smiled at Drew, who with thermometer in mouth, felt gagged. He'd heard Mercury was very poisonous, and he didn't want any in his mouth, so he kept it shut, letting Jenny answer for him. The nurse smiled at Jenny, “Do both of you cycle, too?”

“A prophet in his own land,” was what she wanted to say, but Drew beat her to any response.

“Mum's the ladies world champion, so she cycles a bit,” he chuckled as the nurse finally removed the glass tube from between his lips.

“So, you take after your mother, then?” asked the nurse almost rhetorically.

“She has the potential to be much better than I am,” offered Jenny, in a statement of genuine modesty. The nurse looked at Dave, who nodded in agreement.

“Don't listen to them,” chirped Drew, “She's only trying to cheer me up.”

“Are you really the world champion?” asked the nurse, almost forgetting her patient.

“Could you open our fete on Saturday? We were going to have some footballer bloke, but he's just broken his leg water skiing.”

“What she means is, she might have to return to Germany. She's already missed one important race.”

“Pity Gaby's not feeling stronger, she'd do it for you, wouldn't you sweetheart?” Jenny smiled at her captive offspring. “She's a double national champion.”

Drew blushed like a radioactive tomato and began to cough. The nurse handed him a receiver. “Doesn't sound like you're going anywhere for a few days, girl,” said the nurse. “Have they said anything about physio, to shift the muck on her chest?” she asked of Jenny and Dave. They both looked astonished and shook their heads. “I'll speak to the doc,” she said, “If you change your mind, you can leave a message for me at the nurses station here. Oh I'm Suzanne by the way.”