Chapter 1

“What’s this little apron and stuff?”, asked ten-year-old Jessica Maltravers of her best friend ten-year-old Gwendoline Foxe, when staying at her house for a day or two.

“Oh, it’s just Daddy’s regalia. He’s a Mason.”

“What’s a Mason do?” asked Jessica.

“They are a Secret Society and they meet in Lodges and dress up and they never tell anyone ANYTHING about what they do. And they all have to go through an initiation ceremony before they can join”

“Gosh,” said Jessica, “can we be Masons one day?”

“No, silly. Only men can join.”

“Oh dear! What’s initiation mean, Gwen?”

“They roll up their trouser legs and unbutton their shirts and swear a horrible oath never to tell anyone anything.”

“That sounds silly. When we grow up, we’ll start a lodge for Lady Masons and have a proper initiation - not something stupid like that!”

Both girls agreed at once that this would be a jolly good idea.

Then Gwendoline’s mother called for the two girls to come down for dinner and for eight years the idea was forgotten. Forgotten by Gwendoline, that is.

Gwendoline and Jessica remained inseparable companions all through preparatory school and during their years at Cheltenham Ladies College. They played every sport and played them well, winning all manner of cups and medals for the school. They also got into all sorts of trouble, being bawled out on the Head Mistress’ carpet time without number. (“I swear those two are giving me a permanent sore throat,” said this long-suffering lady at one point “But I really like the pair. There’s no viciousness in either of them - just a bit wild.”

They were the most popular girls of their year all the way up the school and by the time they left the Sixth one fine July day, after qualifying for the same Oxford College, there were a lot of tears shed by the hero-worshipping girls of the junior school as these two legendary figures went.

They agreed without even having to discuss it that they would spend their Gap Year together, whatever it was they did with it. It was Jessica who suggested how they should spend it.

“Remember when we came across your Dad’s Masonic paraphernalia, all those years ago?”

“Sure, Jess, we thought of starting our own lady Masonic movement for five minutes until we were called down for dinner! Golly I’d quite forgotten.”

“Well, I didn’t forget. I’ve thought about it a lot since then and I vote we spend our Gap Year getting the whole thing off the ground.”

“Oh, Jessica! Why not? We women can do anything those pigs of men can and better.”

“Quiet. The first thing is to recruit some other girls (let’s keep it to our own age group to start with) and devise an initiation test which puts the men’s pitiful mumbo jumbo in the shade. I think we should advertise in “The Times” for fifty girls and one man.”

“What’s the man for, Jess?”

“He can devise the initiation test. He’ll never be a member himself so he can be above the fray, so to speak. We put ourselves in his hands for the test and then give him something for his trouble and go on and set up the Lodges ourselves.”

“And so, the following appeared in “The Times” Personal Column”:

18-year-old girls invited to apply to join the Lady Masons. Why should a lot of boring old men can have all the fun?

The two sifted through the replies and interviewed the ones who seemed the likeliest. Finally, fifty girls were selected and told to keep themselves available until they were contacted.

An advert was also placed reading: “Man wanted to devise challenging initiation test for Women’s Masonic Society”

They finally picked on a Harold Fitz James - man of good background and obvious intelligence, who said he would need a few weeks to prepare things and would be in touch.

It was early in September that the long-anticipated phone call came.

“Get all fifty girls outside the Guildhall in Gloucester in five days’ time at noon sharp.”

At the stipulated hour a group of excited, if apprehensive young women were waiting on the pavement outside the Guildhall when a bus drew up and out got Harold Fitz James.

“Pile in, ladies. We’ve got a long ride ahead and the sooner we get there the sooner we can get started.”

It was past four when the bus was driven down a country track in Cornwall and the ladies were invited to dismount. Harold led them down a path on to a small sandy beach, where a number of hardy ends of season sunbathers, all nude, were preparing to leave for the day.

“This is where we start, ladies. As you see this is an unofficial nudist beach, and the nature of the test I have devised makes it a very suitable place to start.”

He turned to Gwen and Jess and said, “I’ll give you your instructions later.”

“Now, ladies I want you all to come up two by two and get a set of instructions. You will take off your clothes and put them in one of these bags.”

And so, a numbered paper was handed to each pair and their clothes put into a bag with the corresponding number. After making several journeys back to the bus to stow the clothes, he addressed the would-be initiates.

“Here’s what you do ladies. The envelopes you have been given contain a map. On the map I have marked the spot where your clothes will be hidden. You find your way there undetected and retrieve your clothes and pass the test. Simple as that. Nothing to it really. You only have to go a few miles in various directions. Good luck and get started.”

And so, forty-eight chattering and excited girls clad only in shoes made off up the path and moved away, gradually splitting up and soon they were all out of sight.

(As a matter of interest, they all made it, although one or two had a few anxious moments - but they do not concern us again.)

Harold turned to the remaining two.

“As the leaders of this enterprise, it’s only proper you get a bit more of a challenge. Start undressing - we’re running out of time.”

They handed him their clothes to be placed in the last unfilled bag.

“I think you’ve forgotten something, girls!” and he pointed to their footwear.

‘Oh, hell,’ they both thought, `even getting up off the beach along that nasty stony path is going to hurt!’

“Come on ladies, you won’t need those wristwatches or your rings and necklaces etc. Off with it all. You’ll get them back OK.”

Right. Here is your envelope with your instructions. If you think it too much for you, I will be back in an hour to collect you and give you your clothes etc. back and your little enterprise will be over before it even begins.”

Bye for now, ladies!” And with these cheery words, Harold Fitz James, Mason and misogynist departed chuckling to himself. “That’s the end of their little game.”

As Harold drove the bus away to deposit the clothes in the designated spots, Gwendoline tore open the envelope and Jessica put a hand on one of her friend’s shoulders and rested her chin on the other, looking down at their instructions.

“Oh. Gosh! That’s impossible. We couldn’t even come close!” Both girls agreed.

“Let’s sit over here and wait”, said Gwen. “Hope he is not too late coming to pick us up, it’s getting a bit fresh already.”

After fifteen minutes the girls started to shiver.

“Let’s practice a few wrestling moves or do some pushups for a while to keep warm,” said Gwendoline.

Just as they were starting to grapple and Jessica was putting on a stranglehold, she relaxed her grip.

“Gwen?”

“Jess?”

“Be nice to see the look on that smug bastard’s face if he got back and we were gone.”

“Even nicer to see him when we collect our clothes!”

“Let’s do it!!”

And so, the envelope was retrieved from where they had let it fall and the girls climbed up the path off the beach, their faces wincing as their soft-soled feet walked up the flinty surface. At the top they stopped and Jessica wiggled her dusty toes.

“There are going to be four very sore feet by the time this is over.”

Gwendoline agreed and added, shivering in the evening cold.

“And four rather blue tits!”

They could still hardly believe they were actually trying this, but they had always been gaming for any dare at school. They had a reputation to maintain.

Those who wish to follow these girls’ further adventures might care to read the following summary of the instructions the pair had been given: -

“The clothes can be collected on Friday 23rd November at 20 Lynemouth Road, Ellington, Northumberland between 6 and 10 am. You are to remain unclothed for the entire period. You will NOT steal in order to procure food, and you will NOT beg from strangers either directly or by implication. You may accept unsolicited hospitality, but only for a minimum of one night and must refuse all offers of any kind of bodily covering, including bedclothes. You are allowed to use the warmth of each other’s bodies at night. I have left food parcels at the locations described. They may have been found by others, but they have been well hidden. I stress that NO protection or covering to any part of your bodies is permitted. I trust you both to stick to what I have stipulated. I know you are women of honor. Good luck, ladies.”

The envelope contained a map and a list of instructions as to how to find the food drops. Also, a detailed map of the area where their journey was to end some ten weeks later. They would have to make a journey of well over five hundred miles, trying to remain undetected by authority in one of the most densely populated countries in the world.

Jessica emitted a loud and supremely satisfied belch.

“I like trout, Gwen. Nothing better than freshly caught fish.”

“Yes, pity the vegetables were a little unorthodox!”

“Damn fine rabbit yesterday!”

“The best, darling! but a few courgettis and asparagus tips and new potatoes would have been welcome.”

“I vote we ignore those bloody food parcels for now.”

“For the while, yes. But we’ll need them soon enough!”

The two school friends and would be initiates sank back onto the grass in the warm September sun and considered the first two days of their journey to Northumberland. They were still tramping through Cornwall and getting their feet used to being in constant contact with the ground. The dry conditions and their Guiding experience had made the lighting of a fire of twigs and leaves by means of rubbing sticks together laborious but relatively straightforward. Maybe they could come across a discarded bottle and then they could use the sun’s rays to light their fire. They had decided not to risk detection by trying to have a fire at night, and there was always the risk of starting a serious conflagration.

The first two nights had been cold and the enterprising girls who had loved being Girl Guides and had been on many camping holidays had contrived to keep themselves warm, finding some fold in the ground to snuggle in to - the one lying alternately on top of the other, keeping each other warm long enough to get a few hours’ sleep.

“I’m getting to like that bit in the instructions about the warmth of each other’s bodies,” sighed Jessica.

“It is nice, isn’t it?”

“Gwen?”

“What Jess?”

“We can’t beg from strangers, but the instructions say nothing about friends and family.”

“We’re not asking our families for help. No bloody way!!”

“That still leaves friends - right?”

“Right!”

“You were always the memory woman. Start dredging up a few phone numbers out of that lovely mind of yours.”

They got to their feet after their meal of trout garnished with various herbs and other hopefully edible leaves and berries. (Useful that Jessie had been taught how to tickle trout by a disreputable poacher some years ago) and started to cross over Bodkin Moor.

“Let’s hope there aren’t too many helicopters buzzing around, Gwen. Not a lot of cover really.”

“Oh, there’s plenty of heather. We’ll be OK.

They decided to sleep for the rest of the day, while the sun was still strong enough and continue their journey through the night.

“Hope the skies stay clear. Without the stars we won’t have much idea where we are going.

“It’s been quite fun so far,” said Jessica. “I mean there’s lots of edible berries and nuts and stuff at this time of the year and it’s still pretty warm in the day and we’ll probably be OK until well into October, but those last three weeks are going to be awful, and it gets a lot colder the further north you go.”

“We’ll be pretty hardened by then,” replied Gwendoline. “We’ll gradually adjust as the temperatures fall bit by bit.”

“We’ ‘All need to.”

“We’ll think of something”, said Gwen “Something within the rules. And we’ll be there on 23rd November and see his jaw drop. We’ve just got to hang on to that thought - that lovely vision...”

“Let’s have another look at that foot, Jess,” said Gwendoline.

“Not too good, I’m afraid. We need to take it easy for a few days and you’d better lean on me as much as possible till it heals a bit.”

And so, the two trudged on slowly for another two days, Jessica leaning on to Gwendoline and putting as little weight on her left foot as possible. She had trodden on some thorns and pierced the sole. It had throbbed painfully for a few hours, but there seemed to be no infection and the girls concluded it just needed time to heal.

On the fourth day they located one of Mr. Fitz James’ food stores and had their first diet Coke since the journey started. Most of the other items were the sort of iron rations that pilots took with them in the war in case of being shot down.

Jessica still had a slight limp, but her foot was healing fast and they picked up speed and crossed over into Devon, fording the Tamar near Launceston.

As dusk was falling on their fifth day, they decided to shelter under a stone wall, between two fields, hoping the night temperature would not be too low, in order that they might have a few hours’ sleep before pressing on through the dark.

They were just trying to settle down when Jessica who had volunteered to be first to lie on top, felt something wet and cold in her back. She looked around and there was a friendly little terrier, wagging its tail. It barked excitedly.

A face appeared peering over the wall. It belonged to a boy of maybe fifteen or so, whose face was a picture of amazement.

“I say, you shouldn’t be out here like that you know!”

“What’s the matter Mark,” shouted a female voice.

“Nothing Sis, you go back home and fetch Dad.”

“Nonsense Mark, I’m coming to see.”

Seconds later a second face peered over at the two despondent girls. Both thoughts, `Over so soon after less than a week.’

The second face belonged to a girl of maybe twelve years old with pretty golden hair and bright blue eyes. She looked amazedly at the two, and then smiled in delight.

“Gosh, Mark. It’s Gwendoline and Jessica!”

Gwen and Jessica recognized the fair-haired young girl as Paula Greene, one of the more promising hockey players in the junior school - and a girl who had always regarded the two with awe.

“Hi, Paula! Nice to see you again so soon! Back to college in a day or two?”

“Yes! Rotten luck, now that you two have gone, there won’t be anyone worthwhile left.”

“Don’t you believe it Paula. WE said that every year and there was always someone to take the places of those who’d gone. One day people will be saying the same about you! YOU will be a legend!!”

“No one will ever be able to touch you two! Remember what the principal said? These are a unique pair, and our lives have all been enriched by having them with us?”

“I wonder why she was so nice on that last day! Most of our time there she was always bawling us out for something.”

“Anyway - why are you here like this - utterly starkers? Have you been kidnapped and left to freeze by some maniacs? No! Course not! You’d both have been far too good for them. Why?”

And so, the two friends explained the situation to Paula and her eyes became rounder and rounder.

“Golly, what an adventure! I wish I could join you! Don’t you Mark?”