Lost

Lost

The grey stone- built cottage stood at the end of the lane overlooking the sea. In one direction you could see Dover Castle but straight ahead, on a clear day, you could see the coastline of France.

The cottage dated back just over a hundred years, but an annex had been added, built in a contemporary style with large windows to take in all the views. This was used as an Airbnb.

Margie had lived here for over 20 years. Born and bred in Dover, her love of the sea meant she was never going to move far away.

Margie was a sturdily built woman. Many described her as a ‘handsome woman’ but this did not accurately describe the very pretty, feminine woman she was.

On this bright but blustery April day, she was checking bookings for the Airbnb. One had just come in asking for a reservation of 4 nights, Monday to Friday. She noted it was for one adult. Margie often thought the single booking clients seemed lost as if staying here might help them find themselves.

Many guests came to enjoy the Kent coastline but also its history. Canterbury was not far away, and its cathedral was a big visitor attraction. Guests also took the opportunity to go on day trips to France as Dover Harbour was so close by.

Margie replied to the request and noted it was for a George Thomas.

The first week of April arrived and George Thomas let her know he was travelling from London and would aim to arrive at 4pm.

That afternoon Margie saw a black Range Rover driving carefully down the lane. She went to the front door to great her guest.

It was difficult to hide her surprise when George leapt out of the car and rushed over to her, effusively shouting’ Hi, so nice to meet you’.

They shook hands and Margie led him into the Annex.

‘Wow, this is great, the views are stunning’.

As Margie showed George round she looked carefully at the matching skirt and top he was wearing. The knee-high boots also took some getting used to. George saw her glance at the boots and said ‘sorry, should I take them off. Don’t want to ruin your lovely floors’.

‘No.no that’s fine, Margie stammered, mortified that he had noticed her looking.

‘Let me make you a tea or a coffee and then I can tell you about the place and give you some information about good places to eat or shop. We don’t want you getting lost’.

‘Great’ said George ‘I could die for a coffee’.

Sitting down at the dining table with a view over to the castle, George looked at Margie and said ‘Can I explain a few things. I’m transitioning and I wanted somewhere quiet to practice things, like managing to walk in these boots. It’s been a long journey, and I’ve suffered quite a few setbacks. Friends have been great but family not. It’s left me feeling all at sea, a bit lost really. My family have always been there for me. but this seems a step too far’.

Margie looked at him and quietly  said ‘you don’t have to explain anything to me. Be who you are. I’m only sorry that you have had those difficulties. It shouldn’t be like that for anyone in this day and age’.

The usual procedure for Margie with her Airbnb guests was to ‘meet and greet’, show them round the property, give them information on the area and then leave them to enjoy their break unhindered. But there was something about George that made her want to make his stay as pleasant as possible.

‘Let me know if you need anything. Enjoy your stay’.

As she left, George held out his hand. ‘Thanks for being so generous and kind. It isn’t always like that for me’.

The next morning Margie saw George drive off in the car. He was wearing a Juicy Couture track suit in lime green. Margie grinned to herself. ‘That should turn some heads’. Then she did something very uncharacteristic for her. She left him a note saying: ‘Come and have dinner with me tonight if you’re free’.

She made a Shepherd’s Pie, opened a bottle of red and waited. Sure enough about eight o clock, he knocked.

‘This is so kind of you. A lovely conclusion to a good day’. He told her how he had been to Dover Castle, and then had a look round the town. He had been in the museum and local church.

Over dinner they chatted and he told her about his transitioning. ‘I think the men in my life have been so awful that right from being a small child I thought ‘I don’t want to be one of them’.

Margie looked at George carefully and said ‘I’ll say it again George. You need to be true to yourself and be who you are’.

And so George enjoyed his few days, even going on a day trip to France which he told Margie was ‘fab’.

On Friday morning as his stay came to an end, he thanked Margie for her kindness.

‘You’ve actually helped a lot. Made me think in a more balanced way. .i feel like I’m finding myself, and I’ve worked out how to walk in these boots’ he grinned.

They hugged briefly.

‘I will be back’ he said ‘and you can see how I’m getting on’.

‘Au revoir’ replied Margie and after waving him off, she turned to gather up the washing ready for the next guests who would be arriving at 4pm.

‘Well’ she thought ‘that was an adventure. Another lost soul, helped on his/ her way. I’ll look forward to his next visit’.