A story of Agony Aunts ...and an Agony Uncle (part 2)

[The first part of "Dear Molly" was a complete story which moved forward thirty years at the end, but comments from more than one reader made me realise that it might be fun to explore those intervening years, and find out whether Emma's public appearances were really over as she had said.]

Being newly reconnected with my old flame, Serena invited me to stay with her in the richer part of the richer end of the country and look for jobs nearby. That could have the benefit, besides the obvious, of careers which would better suit my interests.

So I waved goodbye to my parents and the north of England, for a train ride to a new life.

I settled into the affluent south, albeit without personally being anywhere near affluent and, at least for a week or so, being a 'kept man.'

While Serena was at work, I'd spend my mornings tidying up, looking at the job ads in the national newspapers at the public library, going to the Job Centre to read the postcard-sized listings (usually offering minimal wages), and buying the early edition of the local paper because its job ads wouldn't change between editions. Then, if anything seemed a remote possibility, I'd send off an application letter and CV.*

My only working experience had been three summers of less-than-hard labour in the metal-bashing trade, plus one as a gofer for a newspaper. That had included a small bit of journalism, but every little helps at an interview or on a CV.

Serena soon pointed out that, since she worked at the local paper and knew what might interest me, she could let me know of any new ads it was running before they even reached the printing presses.

And as a result of such shenanigans I was able to get wind of a job with a local publisher of romance novels popular with housewives. They were in need of a temporary proof-reader and editor to replace one who needed some lengthy medical treatment. So I popped in on spec – nothing ventured and all that! Now, this was a private company with no equal opportunities rules to abide by, and I was available. They liked the cut of my jib and simply asked me to start the next day on a week's trial. Wouldn't happen now, but this was then and I was grateful.

So Serena and I celebrated with a bottle of wine and an early night.

I arrived the next day to be given the manuscript for a novel entitled "Her Secret Desires" by Emily Brindle, whoever she was. They asked me simply to edit the first chapter then print out and proof-read it, which would be all they would expect from me in a week.

I finished it with a day to spare and handed the marked-up copy to Beryl, my boss. She gave it a quick once-over then said I should carry on with the next chapter as far as I could until the following lunchtime, the last one of my trial.

After that lunchtime I was called in to see Beryl, together with her boss, Adrian. She said they'd both read my edited chapter that morning and were impressed, and that I would certainly have been on the shortlist for the position. However they had decided to give me the job there and then and would like me to finish editing the whole book, initially on a one-book contract. They mentioned that my literature and (brief) agony aunt experience shone through and felt sure that I had a future in publishing.

So I was over the moon, as was Serena, and another happy evening was spent.

And that's how I became a book editor, subsequently being kept on after my predecessor had returned to work.

In the meantime, Serena was also making an impression at her newspaper. It had an editor, a photographer, six general journalists (of which Serena was the most junior) and two who only covered sport. However, most of them were less than dynamic and had been there for years, decades even, so it didn't require much for Serena to excel and pretty soon it was obvious to everyone that if there was no avenue for promotion she'd be off somewhere else.

So after only one year as a full-time journalist, she was made deputy editor, even though it was really only a ploy to hang on to her for a bit longer.

With both of us now being on acceptable salaries, we were able to start saving to buy a house and, with some parental support, that's what we did, eighteen months into what we could now call our careers.

And that meant inviting everyone we knew to visit, or stay with us for weekends, and tell us how well we'd done.

Two of those visitors were Serena's Uncle Jim and his partner Andy. I had met them when Serena and I (while I was dressed as Emma), had bumped into them when shopping a couple of years earlier. Since then I'd only met them once more, and that had been only a week later, mainly so that Serena could show them the photographs of us about to go clubbing the previous Saturday.

So, on their visit, the conversation inevitably got round to that escapade. "I blamed you for that, Jim," I said.

"What do you mean? You'd already agreed to do it before I even met you!"

"Yes, but if you hadn't been a drag artist then your niece wouldn't have pressured me into doing it!"

"Excuse me!" said Serena, "I don't remember you being forced to do anything!"

"Well, you are a bit persuasive, even if none of us would dare to use the word 'forceful,'" said Jim, "But anyway, we saw a lovely girl with you that afternoon, and the photos showed an absolute stunner with you that evening, so for whatever reason, it's just good that the world got to see her at least once! And I would hope it wasn't just the once."

I replied "Well it was just the once actually and I've never thought of it again until just now."

"I have," said Serena, "and that night was the nearest I've ever come to wishing I was a lesbian."

"Really?" I said.

"Really!" She said,

"Oh." I said.

That provoked a bit of silence, which was broken by Andy saying "Well, I didn't expect that."

"Me neither," said Jim.

"And especially me!" I said.

Then Jim decided to risk being a bit controversial by saying, "Well, I get the feeling that Serena would love to see the beautiful Emma again, and I know that Andy and I would, so what do you think Paul?"

"Well, if Serena would like a lesbian partner, I suppose it might be better if I provide one rather than see her find one for herself!"

That got me a big kiss from Serena but the others thought better of following suit.

That night, in bed, Serena was very apolgetic about bringing up the lesbian thing as it had just come out accidentally, and she knew it had caught me by surprise. She also said she loved me as Paul or as Emma. She did say, though, that she would like to see Emma again, even if it was only for old times' sake."

I was thinking "I can't deny her that." And I said, "Ok, it might be fun to do it again."

The next morning we saw Jim and Andy off, and told them we wouldn't leave it so long next time.

Nothing more was said about Emma. Then, a week later, Serena reminded me that the local summer carnival procession was only a few weeks away.

"I know!" I said, "My company is entering a float in it and its theme will be women's fashions through the ages. I'm told it will have a fashion parade catwalk and a changing room with six models wearing dresses from different eras, mediaeval to the 1960s."

"Sounds good. I presume that by now they must already have the float itself and all the fashions and models organised."

"Er, it doesn't seem to be going too well at the moment. The float itself is in hand, the costumes could be hired or made but personnel seems to be a problem. The ladies at work tend to be a bit mature and a bit reticent, and unfortunately they only have two models so far."

"Well, I'd do it, and if you didn't mind a drag queen or two, it would only take one phone call to get a couple of Rio Carnival girls by the names of Jemima and Andrea, so that's five already."

"Well, the marketing manager, Issy, is the organiser and she tells me they have already decided on the costumes. a mediaeval damsel, a Tudor woman, a busty serving wench, a 1920's flapper. a bunny girl, and a Twiggy lookalike in a 1960s mini-dress."

"Well, count me in for the the busty wench, and I'm sure Jemima would make a good bunny girl and Andrea could do the flapper. And... I have an idea for who could be the Twiggy girl, complete with eye makeup like a panda!"

"Who would that be, then?" I asked, somewhat apprehensively.

"Emma. With all that black stuff on your face, nobody would recognise you."

So that idea was planted and she provisionally sounded out Jim and Andy about taking part and staying for the weekend. She was also being especially nice to me, so I knew resistance was useless – I was going to be the mini-dress girl, whether I wanted to or not!

She left it a week and then she floated another idea. "You remember when we were reminiscing with Andy and Jim about your two outings as a girl?"

"Ye-e-ss!"

"Well, I was thinking that, seeing as they'll be here for the Friday evening, you and I could go out dancing with them, as well as being on the float the following day.

"But wouldn't that be a bit unbalanced – three blokes and a girl?"

"We-e-ll,"

"Oh, I see, with me as a girl."

"Well, yes, they were wanting to see Emma in all her wonderful glory anyway."

"But they have seen her, in the photographs."

"We-e-ll, yes, but it's not quite the same, is it? Emma is a sight to behold. And with Andy and Jim not being the most butch men on the planet, I was also thinking..."

"A-a-ah. I see where you're heading – Four girls and no blokes!"

"But it's perfect. Two over-the-top drag queens with two very pretty real girls. They'll be attracting attention to us. Beautiful us!"

"And she'd got me again. And I did notice that she'd called me a real girl."

"And what was worse was that I was beginning to look forward to it. Again."

Now, I wasn't involved in the carnival float project at this point, that was Issy's baby. Issy was very attractive and was also one of the two 'models' along with her friend Jill.

So when I offered the services of Serena, her friend Emma and her drag-queen relatives, she was thankful and greatly relieved, and I, as the contact man for most of the models, was co-opted into the planning, for which the main issue was now costumes.

Jim was able to drive south one morning, this time on his own, for a lunchtime meeting with Issy, her equally pretty friend Jill, Serena and myself (but sadly not Emma) to sort out the fine details of the costumes.

I explained that Andy and Emma were unavailable for the meeting but they'd told us we could make decisions on their behalf. So we were able to agree that Jim would be the bunny girl and could produce his own costume, as would Andy as the flapper. Serena would be the serving wench and would also organise her own costume which, I had no doubt, would be emphasising her buxomness, and Emma as the sixties girl would be providing her own costume too. That left the Tudor and damsel costumes, which would both be hired and worn by Issy and Jill who, it seemed, might be more than just friends.

So with the company's exhibition contractors progressing well on the float itself, the rest of us only had to worry about our own costumes and acting as fashion models. We then had two weeks of frantic preparations, sourcing and trying out clothes and makeup, and practising our catwalk strutting.

We also produced a mix-tape of pieces of music appropriate to each costume, which we'd repeat about every 5 minutes, meaning we'd be doing the whole thing about eight or nine times during the procession. Mercifully we wouldn't be changing costumes on the moving vehicle, as some costumes would take a bit more than 5 minutes to remove anyway!

So, early on the Friday evening we were all assembled for a dress rehearsal at our house, which I unfortunately couldn't attend as I'd 'had to visit a sick relative', but Serena's friend Emma was there, looking very Twiggy-ish – and panda-ish.

The costumes and makeup all looked great and we had fun practising our catwalking to the mix-tape, all adding movements appropriate to our costumes at the turn, such as a slow Tudor curtsy or a flapper's behind-the-back kick. Andy and Jim's experience and outrageousness actually energised the rest of us, so by 8pm we all were pleased and looking forward to the next day.

Then, as soon as Issy and Jill had left, it was mayhem with four ladies having to quickly become nightclub divas at the same time, but we managed to be in our booked taxi by 9:30 for another clubbing night, and the drag duo were gushing with praise for the beautiful Emma.

This time, at An and Jem's suggestion, we'd gone to a gay club which they'd heard was good. They were in their element and they were soon gathering their own following while Serena and I enjoyed dancing with each other, then with other girls, and - surprise, surprise - even bumping into, and dancing with, Jill and Issy.

When a slow song started, Issy and I paired up, as did Jill and Serena, and Issy said to me "I didn't think you were gay, Paul."

Having always assumed I might get caught out at some point, I quickly pulled myself together and nonchalantly replied, "I'm not actually gay, but Serena likes me to dress up. And I could have said something similar about you after I saw you and Jill together. When did you guess about me?"

"Well, it was when Paul had appeared at our meeting yet Emma came to our rehearsal, and with having seen Jim as both a man and a woman, I was imagining your Emma face with a bit less mascara and eyeliner, and Eureka! But it was only a combination of circumstances. I doubt anyone else would recognise you, and your secret's safe with me. And I must say you look absolutely stunning, so if both of us were ever in the market for a new girlfriend, I'd be interested!"

So then I swapped partners and it became obvious that Jill thought I was as female as my housemate Serena. And we spent much of the rest of the evening with Issy and Jill while Jemima and Andrea were holding court somewhere.

Eventually Serena and I had to drag the drag queens into our taxi otherwise we'd have had to sell our car to pay the taxi fare, but we'd had a great evening, no doubt to be followed by a headachy morning for all four of us.

The sun rose on a lovely sunny Saturday morning to find nothing at all happening at our house other than snoring. Despite our needing to be fully dressed and made up in order to join the procession of floats at twelve, we only really stirred with about an hour to spare, meaning that last night's chaotic rush had to be repeated, but with less time – and sore heads!

When we arrived in the assembly yard, our float was looking wonderful, as, I must say, were we models. And being able to all get to know each other the previous night, at both the dress rehearsal and the club, had brought us together as a team. The judges unexpectedly gave us a prize: second-best float in the large floats section, so that put us in a good frame of mind before we had even set off.

We left the yard for our tour of the town in music-only mode until we came to our first spectators, when we began strutting our stuff. Following Jem and An's lead, we interacted with the crowds more than catwalk models would, and probably had more fun as a result. For myself, I was being Twiggy and hamming it up in my blonde wig, even ad-libbing in a Cockney accent with the crowds. And with my feet on the catwalk being at about head height for the spectators, they could probably see my red panties under my very short dress. There was a lot of applause for us and all too soon we were back in the assembly yard.

We hadn't discussed what we'd be doing afterwards, but An and Jem knew exactly what to do, and all six of us had a brilliant time walking round the town as a group, engaging with people who recognised us from the float. We even went into one or two pubs, where none of us had to pay for our drinks.

In fact, we stayed in town until evening, managing to find somewhere to get a meal and finish off what we all agreed had been a wonderful day, after which we all felt shattered and there was snoring in our taxi – and probably in Issy and Jill's too!

The next morning we were still buzzing and, as Jim and Andy wouldn't be leaving until late afternoon, we thought we'd have a pub lunch. Jim suggested we invite the rest of our crew, who were up for it. Given that Jill may not know my true identity, that meant I'd have to be Emma again, so when we met, I was dressed in some jeans and a top of Serena's and wearing minimal makeup. I wasn't able to guess whether Jill had been told about me or had worked it out for herself, but after chatting with her again I thought she must be quite a good actress if she had.

After that, Issy and Jill came back to the house to see the lads off and stayed for a coffee with us afterwards. It seemed as if we were becoming good friends, so I felt that now would be a good time to own up, which came as a great surprise to Jill.

So, after a hectic but really awesome weekend, work felt quite boring for a couple of days, only being brightened up by seeing Issy at the coffee machine or in a corridor, where we'd both smile at the memories.

Now, with Serena having amassed more editorial duties, she said she was thinking of giving up Dear Serena as she was finding she was losing her edge when she had to answer a problem that was essentially one she'd answered a year before. So I volunteered to take the column over if she'd effectively read it through for me each week before I sent it off for publication. So we'd turned back the clock a few years to again be the double act who had first covered for Molly.

Over the next year or so the old editor retired and Serena got the job, appointing her successor from one of her former colleagues in Bristol. And she now felt the time was right to finally sever the connection with Dear Serena, which officially became Dear Emma.

The publishing company I worked for was reorganised to become merely an imprint (i.e. brand name) of the parent company. Our office and warehouse were closed and any staff who were kept on were moved with the rest of the group to one office in Milton Keynes. And since I would always be working at home from now on, I decided it wouldn't matter if I grew my hair and even had my ears pierced.

The changes also meant that our friends Issy and Jill had to move too, so we had another all-girls night at the gay club, which Jim and Andy couldn't possibly miss, and it was both joyous and sad.

But having now written Dear Serena many times on my own as well as editing a number of romance novels by women, I now understood the romance novel genre really well, and the variety of stories and styles used by the different authors had given me the feel of how a good romance novel ought to be.

Or to put it another way, I now felt I could do as well myself!

And that's what I did. I quickly sketched out a plot and wrote an introductory chapter, then left it a week. I read it, edited it and left it another week before comparing it with the first chapter of both a Jane Austen novel and one of the best of those I'd previously edited. I was pleasantly surprised to see how well mine stood up against them.

So that encouraged me to ask Serena to read it and be as brutal about it as she liked, but she just said it was great.

Six months later Emma Old's first novel was published, but not under the imprint I still worked with. Instead I went with a sister imprint so it would be edited by someone unknown to me and I couldn't be accused of favouring my own books.

The publicity machine then started rolling. I was requested to attend the official launch at a big bookshop in London. I asked Serena if I should wear a suit or go less formal. She said "Suit for the first one and wear what you want when you've made your name."

But then she had second thoughts and said "A romance novel isn't a scientific textbook so forget the suit and get yourself a nice dress instead. I think we need to go shopping!"

I didn't even bother saying "I meant a suit and tie." because she knew that by now I would only have been joking!

So after work the next day I had to do a quick change before we went to get a complete outfit for me. We spent quite a lot of money but I was really pleased with what I'd chosen and couldn't wait to try it all on when we got back.

I'd had my hair coloured and streaked just a week earlier so that saved me some time, and I felt really good walking with Serena into that famous bookshop for the launch of my book and it was fabulous being the centre of attention.

Review copies had been sent out which resulted in glowing articles and the book took off, so I was then required to do a book signing tour of the country to be followed by more in foreign parts. That caused me to re-evaluate my activities so I decided to resign from my editing job to concentrate on writing novels but I retained Dear Emma. I'd felt that that would keep me grounded, while the rest of my time would now be more flexible.

Another year on, in which I had been living full-time as Emma and I had written another bestseller ( with talk of a film deal), Serena and I finally decided we'd get married. It would be a white wedding, we had decided, with both of us in matching dresses. Our bridesmaids, Jemima and Andrea, found it very difficult to not upstage the brides, as you can imagine, but they did their entertaining best, and it was a simply wonderful day.

Before the wedding, Serena and I had been in agreement that the next step for me ought to be to have the necessary done with hormones and surgery to make me as completely female as possible, but not before we had saved some of my sperm for future use should we want to create a sibling for Paul, the boy she had just given birth to, and who had been the real star of our wedding.

And indeed we did create a sister for him. Both of them would subsequently go to the same university as I had, and each of them would spend a summer working in the newspaper office where their parents had met.

And no, that's not where Paul met his partner, but it is where young Serena met hers.

* A CV (or Curriculum Vitae) is also known as a résumé.

[Image adapted from one supplied by Freepic – www.freepic.com]

DEAR MOLLY ©2024 Suzie Dalkin