Chapter 1
Before I get into telling you my story, I really need to tell you a little bit about my ancestors. It does have a bit of a bearing on what happened later, as some revolves around my given name. Many years back, my grandfather was born in Scotland. When he was a toddler, his parents moved to London, where my great-grandfather had a new job to go to. It was working for an import / export business, with the main business importing butter from New Zealand.
It took a few years, but the family had the opportunity to go to Australia, where there was a job to organise transport of lamb, wool, and other goods into a post-war Britain. My grandfather, Wilfred Robert Anderson, finished his schooling in Melbourne and married an Australian girl who he had met at a music festival.
From what I have been told, my grandfather had become frustrated with being way down on any list of names. W.R. Anderson was usually well behind others in the school, with an Alfred Allan usually being the first. This made my grandfather unhappy, especially when the other guy usually came first in the school exams. It was a given in the family that every enemy thereafter was called the ‘Alfred’.
When my father came along, his name was chosen to be higher in any lists, so he was christened as Adam Alec Anderson. That was in the swinging eighties and my grandparents were fans of the music of Adam Ant. My father did well at school, then went to work with General Motors Holden in Melbourne. He met my mother at a Millennium New Year party in Melbourne. They married a year later, then my father was transferred to South Australia, where the production line was the last one still operating. His job was in shipping vehicles as the Logistics Manager, with the GM Holden cars going all over Australia, New Zealand, and some to the UK to be sold as Vauxhalls.
In 2011, it was announced that the South Australian plant would be closing before 2020 and all production was to cease. Because my father was an executive, he was offered the choice of a job in England or staying on to handle imports of Chevrolet and Cadillac much later, after all the Holden stocks had been sold off, along with a lot of the factory sites.
He packed up, sold their house, and the family flew to the UK. At the time it was my father Adam, my mother Primrose, and my two elder sisters, Amelia and Abigail, then four and nine.
When they arrived, they bought a detached house on Blackstairs Road, Ellesmere Port, not far from the Vauxhall factory on the banks of the Mersey. I came along in 2012, born in the Ellesmere Port Hospital, on April the seventeenth. That date became important in my life for one very unfortunate reason. My father had been keen on early Australian History when he was at school, and was adamant that, in order to continue the AAA ritual, my first name was to be Abel after Abel Tasman, a great explorer with Tasmania named after him.
My mother was more of a born-again hippy and saw the zodiac sign as a pointer to my great and successful future. So, my middle name became Aries. As Abel Aries Anderson, my first few years were idyllic. We had an open grass area across the road, and I would often be there with my Dad, kicking a ball around or playing cricket, with my sisters roped in to fill out the team. They often told me that I was too competitive, but Mum always reminded them that this was typical Aries. There was a great little play area, a little way along the road, where I had a lot of fun.
It was when I went to school that things changed. I went to the Rivacre Valley Primary, just a few minutes’ walk away, and the first couple of years were good. Amelia was in her last couple of years and took me along with her. As I said, the first couple of years were good, and then she went to the Whitby High School, and I was eight and alone without a big sister to protect me. Abigail was in her last years at High School and unlikely to be going to University. At sixteen, she was already working part-time in a beauty salon.
There was one boy in the next year up who had visions of being the boss, and he had gathered a small group of minions. Nothing was done within sight of the teachers, but there was a very large open area beside the school where anything could happen. He became my personal ‘Alfred’, and for me the situation slowly changed as the other boys grew taller and I didn’t.
That made me stand out as a weed, about as tall as a girl, as well as not being very sporty. It started slowly with taunts about my height. Then, in one of the classes, a temporary teacher went around the class asking for our names. I told him that ‘I’m Abel Anderson’. After that, the taunts usually started with me being called Mabel. I spoke to Dad about it one weekend, and he had a solution, or part of one. It seemed that Amelia had started learning self-defense at a martial arts school, which used a room in part of the Whitby High School.
I then spent much of my Saturdays learning how to look after myself. It was good to be going there so early in life, as I would be able to continue my studies when I went to the high school myself. As far as I was concerned that was a given, as I loved learning and had good grades.
Knowing that I would be able to put up a fight if things moved to violence, I resisted reacting to the verbal abuse. Violence was unlikely within the school, as there were several CCTV cameras in the hallways and over the main doors to the outside. I made sure that I wouldn’t be caught out beyond the range of those cameras.
I started at the Whitby High School in September 2023. Unfortunately, my personal ‘Alfred’ had started there a year previously, and had already gathered some minions, boosted by the few that were in my year. It was a bit under two miles from home to school and I had a bike to ride, accompanied by my sister for the first two years. In those two years we weren’t bothered, as she was well known with her martial arts, having been in demonstrations at school events.
The year I started third year, my sister left home to join Abigail at a flat in Manchester, with Abigail in a steady job at a salon and Amelia gaining a job at a martial arts school close by. That left me vulnerable for the first time. I was still short and skinny, and my ‘Alfred’ had learned about my middle name. I was now ‘Mabel, the Airy Fairy’. He was in fourth year, and unlikely to move to fifth, as his father had got him working in a mechanics workshop on weekends, with a view to starting an apprenticeship.
It came to a head in the second term. They couldn’t get me after school, because I would sneak into the martial arts school for a couple of hours. The inevitable came one lunch period, when a group of fourth years dared me to go with them to the running track, to see some interesting pictures they had on their phones. It was a dare to prove that I wasn’t the queer that others said I was.
I expected it was a put-up job, with them being bullied into setting me up. I followed them to the trees near the track, where four others were waiting for us. My ‘Alfred’ laughed when he saw me. The patsies backed off to a safe distance as the others surrounded me.
I stood, dropping my lunch bag and grinned.
“You think you’ve got me, do you?”
“We have you where we want you, Fairy. This is my last year, and I’ve been looking forward to this since Rivacre.”
“What, the day you get your nuts presented to you on a plate.”
“Ha! You certainly have the talk, little one. When we’ve finished with you, you’ll be coming to the next term in a skirt!”
“We? Are you afraid of taking me on, man to man?”
“More like man to sissy, runt!”
“So, what now, big man. Are you sending in the minions to soften me up?”
“We may as well. You heard the Fairy, he needs softening.”
The three came towards me with big grins. Thirty seconds later, they were all on the ground and moaning. He screamed like a banshee and ran at me, the very worst thing he could have done. He didn’t land until he was four feet the other side of me. I heard the crack as a bone broke. I picked up my lunch bag and walked back to the school building, with his screaming and crying echoing across the sports field.
Between classes that afternoon, I was called to see the Headmaster.
“Anderson, I’ve had a report that you beat up four of the fourth years at lunch, sending one to hospital. Is this true.”
“I was attacked near the running track by four bullies, sir. And I defended myself.”
“I was told that you ambushed them with a weapon.”
“There were other fourth year boys there sir. I think that they may have been filming the situation on their phones.”
He asked for their names, which I gave him. He asked his secretary to round them up and bring them to the office, making sure that their phones were confiscated first. I was sent to another room before they arrived. I sat and waited for most of the next lesson before I was called back into his office.
“Anderson. You were right, and there was film of the altercation. Those that have just been in this office will be facing four consecutive weeks of detention for luring you into the trap. They all admitted it and said that they had all been bullied into taking you out there. They all were in awe of how you took down three at once, followed by the ringleader in a single throw.”
“I did warn them, sir.”
“I can tell you now, that the ringleader is in hospital at the moment, having his arm put in a cast.”
“That move didn’t break it, sir. He must have tried to cushion his fall with it.”
“The other three are all severely bruised and have been sent home. They have all been warned that any more problems from them will ensure their expulsion. I’ve enough information to expel the leader of that little gang. I have the video of the event to show any parent who complains. I don’t think they would continue with any complaint when they see it.”
“What about me, sir?”
“Head home for now. I’ll give you a letter for your parents to take with you. Come back and see my secretary in fifteen minutes and she should have it by then.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“I should thank you, Anderson, for keeping your abilities so well under cover. You could have used your abilities to gain power, but you didn’t. You had better pop into the martial arts school to tell them that you will be missing the session this afternoon, and the reason for it.”
I did as he asked, then went back to get the letter. I rode home, where my mother was surprised to see me.
“What have you done to be sent home, Abel?”
“Nothing, Mum, except defend myself from four bullies that have been calling me names since halfway through my time in Rivacre.”
“Why did they wait so long?”
“I think that they were afraid of Amelia. She looked out for me while she was still at Rivacre, and did the same at Whitby, where they knew that she would wipe the floor with them. It’s been a long year, waiting for them to turn violent since she left.”
“What have they been calling you, love?”
“It was ‘Mabel’ at first and has been ‘Airy Fairy’ lately. It didn’t worry me, but it made them feel better. I’ve got a letter from the Headmaster for you to confirm my reason for coming home.”
She read the letter first, and then took the small USB stick that had been in the envelope and turned on the family laptop to look at the event, in glorious colour but scratchy sound. Enough, however, to capture his threats. When she had watched it, twice, she hugged me and told me that I had been fantastic. Which was what my father told me when he had viewed the event and read the letter.
The next day when I arrived at school, there was a distinct difference. Some glanced at me and smiled, others turned and walked away, and many of the school underdogs stayed close. During that day, I discovered that my middle name had generated a new nickname. Aries, being the sign of the ram, had me now known as Rambo Anderson, the Baby-faced Assassin.
Over the next few days, things got interesting. The bully’s father came to the school, breathing fire, and wanting the boy who attacked his son to be punished. The Headmaster told him that he had solid proof that it was his son who had instigated the fight, along with three cronies that he had sent in to soften the target up.
The father then went to the police, complaining about a cover up of a cowardly attack on his son. When an Inspector came to the school, I was summoned to the Headmasters’ office before the video was shown. When I had tossed the bully aside, like so much trash, he let out a laugh.
“That cowards’ father has insisted that his lily-white son had been ambushed by someone with a weapon. You, my lad, are the weapon. I could see that you could have inflicted a lot more damage to all four of those boys but held back. I congratulate you on that. How long had they been on your back?”
“About three years before I came here, sir, so, all told, about six years. Up to this, it was mainly taunts and names. It was good that Rivacre has CCTV in most of the corridors. There should be more here, but the bad element aren’t as bad as those four.”
“I expect that you’re treated differently now?”
“Yes sir. Before I was Airy Fairy, because my middle name is Aries. Now, they call me Rambo.”
He laughed again and looked at the Headmaster.
“How good is this lad with his subjects?”
“In the top ten percent in the school, Inspector. I expect that he’ll cruise through his ‘O’ levels. Unfortunately, not many of our pupils go on to university.”
“I’ll leave you both my card. If you do well in the exams, contact me and I’ll talk to you about doing higher studies at the Police Academy, should you join the force. Someone with your skills would have a place with us.”
“Surely, sir, my height would rule me out?”
“There are positions within the modern force where height is no barrier to serving. Think about it. It would be an important job with good pay, and we’ll give you a good higher education as well as training in unarmed combat that you won’t learn in a martial arts school.”
I took his card and put it on my dressing table when I got home that evening, after a good work-out with a few older opponents. I forgot about the conversation as I went from third, into fourth, and then to fifth year. The adoration among the previously bullied kids waned, but the nickname remained. I was Rambo Anderson until the last day of the fifth year. On the first day of the summer break, my father asked me what I was going to do with myself. We hadn’t discussed my future, but it was now front and centre.
“What have you in mind, Abel. Do you want to go on to do higher education, or get a job? I could get you a position in Vauxhall, but you would start at a very low level and would need to work up the ladder.”
Mum put her hand on my arm.
“What about that card on your dresser, love? The Headmaster called me and told me about the policeman and what he offered. He also told me that you were certain to get high marks in your exams. Why don’t you give him a call and see if he’s still interested.”
The next day, I sat in the kitchen with the phone set on speaker and called the number on the card. When it was answered, I gave my name and told the girl that I had been asked to ring by the Inspector.
“It’s Chief Inspector now, young man. Give me your number and I’ll get him to call you back. He’s out at the moment.”
I left the number, and we did other things, mainly reorganising my room, now that it wasn’t needed to be set up for study for a while. When the phone rang, Mum answered it and called me down, putting the phone on speaker.
“Mrs. Anderson. Thank you for getting Abel to get in touch. I offered to help him join the force when he passed his ‘O’s. Abel, would you like to come to our Academy and have a look around?”
“I can, sir. It would be interesting, even if nothing more happens.”
Mum said that she could take me. He gave her the address and an appointment for eleven, the next day.
“Mrs, Anderson. I will tell you that my interest in Abel was due to that fight he won a couple of years ago. He showed great courage but mostly restraint, seeing how much damage he could have done. If he joins us, we will give him advanced training in unarmed combat. We train the Military Police here. We also send our better students to the Liverpool John Moore’s University for higher education. On top of that, they get paid.”
“Surely he doesn’t reach the minimum height?”
“In todays’ force, we’ve realised that it isn’t all about presenting strength and power. A lot of the work is now in computer skills and investigation. Too many of our operations have gone wrong in the past because our people stand out in a world where most inhabitants are small, thin, and look weak. Abel is a bright lad, can certainly look after himself, and would be an ideal candidate for one of our special units. Look, I’ve seen that video. He maintained his composure in the face of overwhelming odds and walked away without raising a sweat.”
The next day, we went into Liverpool and parked in the carpark of the Police Training Academy. At the front desk, we told the officer who we had an appointment to see. He directed us to sit down, and someone would come and fetch us. Before we were collected, he had printed stick-on badges for us with ‘Visitor’ in big letters and our names underneath.
The girl who came to escort us was dressed in a nice skirt suit, with a lanyard and her ID around her neck. She took us through a maze of corridors until we reached a large, open-plan office, with only a couple of desks in use. The Chief Inspector, also out of uniform, stood and shook hands with us.
“Thank you for coming along. Tracey will show you around the training area first, and then bring you back here.”
Tracey led us out and we saw the classrooms, the gym, a typical martial arts room, and a gunnery range. Everywhere we went, there was no-one being taught. Back at the big office, he sat us down by his desk.
“What you have seen is the typical places where all our officers have training. They are the only places that a uniformed officer sees during his time here. What I propose for you, Abel, is a different route. We will employ you as a Police Constable Degree Apprentice, rather than a trainee. That way, you get three years of study. Most of the first year is class study, both here and through the University. Then there is a period of real life in the field with a mentor, followed by time as a cadet working out of an existing unit. The second and third years are mixtures of study and working with a unit. You’ll spend the first part working from this office, which can be accessed without going through the main entrance. After that, we have a remote site where we operate from. It isn’t a regular station, as you won’t be training to walk the beat as an ordinary copper. At the end of the three years, you get a Degree in Modern Policing Methods with knowledge of forensics, computing skills and lateral thinking. On the operational side, you’ll have a knowledge of the new problems we face. Mainly very well educated, but ruthless street gangs, and other areas where your physical looks will allow you to fit in without shouting copper.”
My mother looked worried.
“Isn’t that dangerous?”
“It is, Mrs. Anderson. That’s why we will give Abel enough combat skills to get him out of most problems. My unit works in the background, gaining intelligence for the other parts of the force. We don’t arrest anyone, just get enough information for a raid. A lot of our unit have had to undergo arrests along with their targets to maintain a front. At the remote site, we have a cork board which has a lot of their mug shots pinned to it. It’s become a badge of honour.”
“We came around, through Runcorn, it seems a long way to come every day.”
“Our unit has a number of flats on Booker Road, a walk away, where he can stay while he’s in training here. By the time he goes to the other site, he should have a license to drive, along with some high-speed training. The unit has accommodation on site. It looks like a hippy commune with gardens. They even have a stall in one of the Producers Markets a few times a year.”
“It sounds very James Bond.”
“That’s exactly how we work. Abel may not have a license to kill, but he could with the training we will give him.”
“I don’t know, Chief Inspector. What do you think, Abel?”
“I think that it could be interesting, Mum. I get to learn a lot of things that most teenagers would never get a chance to study. I would be doing something important to keep normal people safe. I get a Degree and a wage. Is there a cost to stay in one of the flats, sir?”
“We do charge a nominal amount, Abel, but we’re the landlord so we’re not in it to make money. It’s usually only about eight months. After that, you’ll be independently mobile. I do have to tell you one thing you may not agree with, though.”
“What’s that, sir?”
“Once you’re away from here and in the unit, you’ll need to live as if you were a spook. That means no going home unless you’re looking like you do now. When you’re taking part in operations, we’ll give you different looks, and you could be living in another region. If you were seen without your disguise, it could ruin the operation. We are deadly serious about our task, and it comes with a lot of rules. They are rules that keep you working and keep you in one piece.”
“Thank you for the honesty, sir. We’ll talk it over at home. I’ll get back to you when I get my exam results.”
Marianne Gregory © 2026