That Girl and her Fairy Godmother

"Was it during the War Mrs D?"

"Oh yes Darling," said the old lady coming back to herself and picking up her cup, "I shared a room with my lovely friend Diana, we were both Section Officers but we still had to share a room on the station, I was in charge of a section of WAAF's in the plotting room and the radar station a few miles that way, while Di ran the orderly room and station administration."

"Where you in love Mrs D?"

"Not to start with Darling, think it was more lust to start with. We were on the old fighter station I showed you about a mile from here, working crazy hours of course," she looked down, "both Di and I had lost a sweetheart each during the Battle of Britain, and Di was just mourning her second and she was really broken up about it."

"Did you... I mean..." I dropped my eyes now, "Did you... like... have sex with them, the sweethearts I mean?"

"Never got to know them that well!" she giggled, "we didn't have the pill of course and... well... nice girls didn't do that sort of things in those days. We had a few dates, perhaps a show in London, certainly quite a bit of kissing in the long grass or in a car if he had one... it was..." Mrs Dixon smiled at me, "it was a tiny bit of peace in the chaos of those hellish days." She closed her eyes again, "well Di had gotten really close with her boyfriend..." she paused, "do you know? I can't even remember his name... how awful is that, the boyfriend of my very best friend and for the life of me I can't remember his name, how terrible..." she went quiet.

"Come on Mrs D," I said, "How many years ago was it?"

She smiled and opened her eyes,

"Well I suppose I do still have that excuse!" she clapped her hands back to her knees and laughed gently, "But I can remember all of my section though -- how strange," she closed her eyes again, "Agnew, Barton, Batten, Dennison, Groves, Lewis, Loundes, McCardle, Morris, Oswald, Renyard, Smith, Smith and Smythe, Trent, Urquart and Wednesbury."

I applauded, and Mrs Dixon grinned and nodded her head accepting the praise.

"Jenny Barton, Dot McCardle and Ossie Oswald were killed when their radar station was bombed, they're on that memorial out there. All my girls," she said, "knew all of them, never by first name of course, not allowed to make friends."

"Well, you made friends with one of them obviously," I grinned.

"Aaah! Well Di was an officer, and I could become friends with her."

"Very good friends by the sound of it."

"Aah yes!" said Mrs Dixon, "very good friends indeed." Mrs Dixon closed her eyes and smiled in remembrance, "Her boyfriend had been posted as 'missing' even though one of the other fighter boys had seen his aircraft go down in flames and crash into the sea, so many boys, such a waste..." Mrs Dixon shook her head. I was just about to lay a consoling hand on hers when the old lady's head shot up, "Rees!" she shouted in triumph, "Rhodri Morgan-Rees! Training to be a Doctor when he joined up, had just been promoted to Flying Officer!" her joy at that memory was short lived, "Killed the very next morning, never got to wear the extra braid." She looked contemplative again, "but in the Royal Air Force of 1940 and 41, promotions did tend to come around a bit quicker in the fighter squadrons."

Mrs Dixon sat up, shaking off the thoughts of the deaths, "Well the night she found out that Rhodri had been killed she asked if she could sleep in my bed, and of course with them being such narrow little things we got close up, and through our tears we both said that we wouldn't date any more fighter boys, no more dating until we knew that there was a reasonably good chance that they, and us for that matter, were all likely to come out the other side of that war."

"What did you do?" I said intrigued by what my friend might have gotten up to almost eighty years ago in her narrow bed with her young female friend.

"Well, the first night we just cuddled, had to really, never a lot of room in those beds. The same the next night. The third night we both lay there and chatted, chatted for ages we did, everything and anything. I started talking about a previous boyfriend, a chap that had moved up to the Fens to command a flight of bombers, his name was Jeff." Mrs Dixon smiled again, a slightly cheeky one this time. "Jeff was just the most amazing kisser!" she said, "just the greatest, he would do things with his lips and tongue that were amazing." Mrs Dixon looked down, "Well laying there with Di, her face inches from mine, she said 'show me' and well... I had to didn't I.

We kissed at first, just innocent kisses to reassure the other, and it was lovely. We hugged some, then we hugged some more, then we kissed some more;" Mrs Dixon looked down me, "real kisses!" she said with a soft grin, "tongues and lips, I can still remember when it got serious and Di rolled over me and lay on top, we both started grinding away at each other. I can still remember; Di was wearing a nightdress while I had on pyjamas. I remember that we both started to play with each other, and I pulled off my pyjama trousers so they wouldn't be in the way. Christ she was good, made me come for the very first time that night."

I was shocked by all this, but wanted to know more, and was surprised that a woman wouldn't have known about masturbation or orgasm until she was nineteen and was amazed that she could talk so candidly about something so personal.

"How long did the affair last?" I said.

"Oh we were on and off for almost a year. Once the Battle of Britain was over and things settled down a bit Di was transferred to another station. I think they were onto us because we were so close I suppose; anyway, she was promoted and posted to another station in Eleven Group and we would meet occasionally for lunch, and shared a room a couple of times in London." She sighed happily, "She met her husband a few months after our last meeting and that was that of course. She fell in love with a wounded pilot who was grounded from further operations because he'd lost a foot in a crash, a hurricane. Well I met her at her parents' house and she told me all about her new love. I knew that was us done of course; she was, how do you young people put it, 'loved up'. Named my eldest daughter after her and they were both her godparents, came all the way to the Rhineland for the christening."

"And you were on your own again?"

"Yes," said Mrs Dixon, "but Di wasn't my only move in that direction, I had a short affair with an ATS officer, Marthie," Mrs Dixon half-frowned and half-smiled, "never seen someone quite so comfortable in trousers. She was in charge of an anti-aircraft battery in Hampshire. She was a proper Lesbian mind you, very butch and not afraid to show it; we only slept together a few times as she was rather intense and was looking for a relationship - not comfort and warmth like me."

"So you were still a virgin when you slept with your Husband."

"Technically," said the old lady, "I can't say that I'd had a penis inside me, but Marthie did have a fine selection of Dildos she liked to use on me, and for me to use on her of course."

I looked at the old lady and bit my lip,

"Why Mrs Dixon!" I hushed my shock as the lady arrived with two more lattes.

"Oh it all seemed innocent enough at the time," she giggled waiting for the waitress to go back to her counter and lowered her voice, "she even had one that we used to wear this strange bloody leather harness so we could screw each other."

"A STRAP-ON?! MRS DIXON?!"

"Did nothing for me Darling," said Mrs Dixon quite simply, "was really uncomfortable and to be honest I never saw the point. If you want that kind of penetration then you find a man, obvious I always thought.

Think Marthie realised that I wasn't into it like she was; we had a huge argument in my hotel room and she shouted that I wasn't a real Lesbian, just screwing her in secret so I didn't get a name as a dyke or for screwing all of the blokes. She was right of course, but then I wanted sex -- easy sex, safe sex, all the passion and the orgasms I could get with the risk of pregnancy or losing the man in question in some dogfight over the channel or when he stormed the next set of beaches Churchill had his eye on."

"So did you split up with her?"

"Yes, somewhat. She stormed off - the next morning mind you - the next week I was told that I was being posted to North Africa as the Africa Corps had been beaten, and that decided me on heterosexuality for good. Once we'd taken North Africa it was planning for the invasion of Sicily, then Italy after it had calmed down enough. I was stationed either in Naples or Rome and it was all about dinners, dancing and all strictly above the waist. I didn't want to get a name for being a game girl."

"Like me," I said.

Mrs Dixon paused,

"History honey!" she said looking with raised eyebrows, "you now live here or at the Holiday centre and having been here for getting on for a month I haven't heard that you sleep around." I thought about that for a moment, then pursed my lips, raised my eyebrows in realisation and nodded. "That's the thing about local gossip Darling," she said noting my coming to terms with it, "when you aren't local it really doesn't count. And I reckon that in your absence they've probably had to find someone else to talk about."

"I haven't had any text messages from my old lovers since I moved on."

"Partners Darling, Partners; like I said try not to confuse what you did with them as love. There's love and there's sex Honey, and while sex can be uniquely pleasurable there is nothing as good as making love to the person you are in love with, nothing."

"Who were you in love with Mrs D?" I said.

"Aaah that's a simple one Darling, after my almost eighteen months of occasional Sapphic delights, I met Colonel John Dixon DSO, late of Kings College, Cambridge and the Royal Artillery and my wonderful husband for over sixty years." Mrs Dixon beamed her pleasure and I could only bite my bottom lip at the older lady's evident pleasure and pride. "We met when I was working with some experimental radar as we were slogging our way through the German forces in Italy. He was an expert in anti-aircraft shells and radar direction finding and we met across a half empty tea urn at four in the morning, he was only a Captain then of course. We went out for dinner that night in a charming restaurant on the Via Forno, both of us in uniform and he was the perfect gentleman. Saw me back to my accommodation, kissed my hand and asked if he might see me the next evening. I was charmed and agreed of course."

"Of course!" I said delighting in the wonderful romance I was hearing about.

"We courted for almost a year and just prior to our move through to Northern Europe, something to do with the final push through Germany and any of the new science and technology that might be found, he asked to me to marry him. I said yes of course." The old lady had the thousand yard stare again, "Made him promise me that he wouldn't get killed, it was early 1945 and Arnhem and the Ardennes where just memories but no way would I go to another funeral of another young man I had real feelings for..." she snapped out of it, "But he was very careful of course and spent months and then years looking at what the Germans had developed and trying to work out if the Russians had it. After the war we settled in Germany and two months before my demob we married in Cologne Cathedral, I'll show you a picture one day."

"That would be lovely Mrs D!"

"And that was that, we set up home together in a large unbombed house in Rhinedahlen and became part of the British Army of the Rhine. I took my medals and retired from the WAAF after five long years of war and just went on to become Mrs Dixon to Colonel Dixon, we had our children and our wonderful life in Germany with a few months back in England every now and again where he would test his latest invention while my parents got to meet him and their grandchildren and I got to meet his parents. John retired from the Army but stayed working in the defence industry and was responsible for some rather good patents which I still hold, a tiny part of which paid for your new clothes Darling."

"It sounds idyllic Mrs D."

"It was Darling, it absolutely was. He was my first male lover of course but by then I had a good idea how all of my bits and pieces worked and was able to show him. He was kind, gentle and passionate and our love just grew -- it does that Darling, and it just becomes more wonderful."

"I hope one day I'll find what you had Mrs D," I said with slightly misty eyes.

"And you will Darling," said Mrs Dixon, "Stick with me Sweetie and I'll see you right."

"Chance will be a fine thing..."

Mrs Dixon snapped her fingers,

"And That's enough of that Tracy Oliver!" She pointed at me; the girl that had been taking care of her, not that she needed that much, for the last six weeks, "I won't have this 'lack of self-confidence' nonsense - from this point on Tracy Oliver's biggest supporter is going to be Tracy Oliver!"

Cinderella: 'drive' and ambition.

And so it began; I had admitted to Mrs Dixon that I had driven cars around the estate during a trip out one day when we were passed by a rather jumpy learner driver. Mrs Dixon said that seeing as I worked so well with her, with my employers' permission and the necessary time off she would pay for me to get a licence.

Carol the HR manager knew a good thing when she saw it and even suggested a driving school that she had used for her daughter. With almost no input from me I found myself with a provisional licence and undertaking a week-long course of instruction all finishing with me taking my test, and with some extra confidence building from Mrs Dixon I passed with flying colours. The Care Company even paid for me to undertake a Part D driving test so I could drive one of the half dozen minibuses they had across Sussex and Kent.

I showed her my new licence and told her that I could drive the buses.

"First you sort out my dress and my glass slippers," I pointed across to the big Fords, "Now you arrange my coach!"

"Stick with me Cinderella, it's all in the plan!"

Mrs Dixon paid to take one of the cars and we spread our tours and lunches further. My confidence grew and I drove her further out whenever she wanted.

As the autumn moved towards winter I was surprised when I received a letter through the post from the local college thanking me for my interest in the 'access to nursing' course. Considering I'd done nothing more than talk to Mrs Dixon about how I'd loved the first aid training I'd done and was thinking about doing the national certificate in care studies, and how I was a bit jealous of the paramedic and hugely jealous of the three registered nurses that worked in the recovery wing - that Mrs Dixon!

The next morning I took the letter and the brochure to her and she told me that I was a natural and why would I just learn how to hand around cups of tea and wipe old ladies bottoms when I could become a real nurse.

"A nurse?" I said, "I don't think I'm..."

"Stop that!" said Mrs D, "We aren't doing negatives anymore are we?"

"Well..."

"ARE WE?!" said Mrs D with a real vehemence to her voice, and her usual pursed lips and raised eyebrows.

I stopped, looked at the picture of the nurse in the blue smock with the posh watch hanging from the pocket. I took a deep breath,

"No Mrs D," I said with the slightest snarl, "are we fuck!"

"That's my girl!" roared Mrs Dixon slapping me on the back. She looked at me smiling back at her, "You do that Darling, you become a nurse," the old lady sniffed, "and you make me proud..."

I borrowed a centre car drove to the college open evening, took a couple of tests and signed up for the course which meant in the simplest terms that while my GCSE results had been pretty average this new course meant I would be qualified to apply for a degree in nursing from a university. They explained that I could pay for each module as it came along.

Mrs Dixon's stay at the Rest Centre was up, and we were both more tearful than we thought we would be at our goodbye that chilly December morning.

"I'll be back in the spring Tracy," said Mrs Dixon patting me on the back, "just you read the books that the college have suggested and I'll see you in February, I can't go for too long without seeing that sunshine smile of yours!"

I went back to my work, and was transferred from the rest centre back to the holiday park for the Christmas season and any number of mid-week and weekend Christmas events; my first aid skills were called upon for the occasional slip, trip or fall that the inebriates had, more than that though I was driving the minibus to and from the railway station to collect and drop off the guests that arrived in that fashion.

The holiday centre offered me a quite significant sum to work through the Christmas holiday and I took them up on it, and was delighted when I was asked to drive to the station to collect the undergraduates that had returned for the Christmas period and there were lots of hugs, and cries of delight, not to say surprise that I could drive.

I'd spoken to Mum, to Dad and my Grandma sending cards and small gifts for them via Amazon and telling them how well I was doing and that I'd passed my driving test. Dad said that was great and hoped I would soon have enough money to buy a car and could drive him to the pub, hmmm...

Mum did her usual and listened to my news for almost sixty seconds before she burst out with what an absolute arsehole new husband was, but strangely that she wasn't leaving him like she had the last one -- I guessed that over Christmas there'd be a short reconciliatory period and there would soon be another child for the social workers to add to my other siblings on the 'at risk' register.

The Christmas period was great and I had a wonderful lunch straight after the residents did. When I got back to my room after a great day almost entirely on my feet, I found a card on my bed that hadn't been there that morning, and I opened it.

There was a card with a Christmas scene of an old RAF station with snow covered spitfires and old buildings like the ones I had driven Mrs Dixon to during days' out. The title on the back showed that the card was from the RAF Benevolent Fund.

I smiled, it had to be from Mrs Dixon and I had been quite surprised that I'd not received one before despite the one I had sent to her. I opened it and saw a piece of paper fall out. I inspected it closely and saw that it was a cheque.

Mrs Dixon! I was ready to phone the lady and tell her off for sending me money when she had already paid for my driving licence when I saw that the cheque wasn't made out to me at all, but was the entire cost of the course that would qualify me to go to University!

I posted it the very next morning with my application form. I also emailed the very tech-savvy Mrs Dixon telling her how grateful I was and how naughty she was. Mrs Dixon mailed back telling me that was nonsense and it was a delight to able to help out someone as lovely, kind and clever as me. We became email pen pals and I wrote to Mrs Dixon at least once a week telling her how I was doing and the start of the modular course the following January.

It was hard going, working long days and heading to college two nights a week to fit in the study. Fortunately Mrs Dixon's emails were a constant support with the occasional five pounds or ten pounds paid into my account 'for something nice' from the College coffee shop to keep me focussed.

I studied hard at college and on occasions was able to shadow one of the recovery wing nurses on rounds and on some of the procedures that they were specially employed to do.

While Mrs D was at back home I even had a trip back to Jackson's Park to see my family initially not worried about seeing me now couldn't believe the change in their daughter, granddaughter and sibling. Grandma was over the moon with the new, more confident slimmer me, with nice sensible clothes not the slutty crap that I'd worn before and I had lunch with her telling her how great my new life was.