Secrets

By Susan Heywood

John finds the body of a neighbour who has been murdered. The police detective assigned to the case deduces that John hides a secret - but the detective has secrets of her own.

Part 5 of 25 — Revelations

Monday morning again dawned bright and clear — but not in my little world. I’d spent a restless night thinking about what I’d agreed to do, and how it could be achieved. I didn’t sleep. Every time I closed my eyes, all I saw was Jenny skipping through life without a care. I also knew that I’d upset Jane big-time. I couldn’t face breakfast and just left for work. My self-esteem was at an all-time low.

Greg Barnes, my manager, noticed and called me into his office. Greg was in his late-thirties; he’d been in the Navy, but was as different from my father as you could possibly imagine.

I dejectedly walked in, closed the door and stood with my head bowed in front of his desk.

“John, what’s happened? I’ve never seen you this depressed, what’s going on? It’s clearly affecting your work and that’s completely out of character.”

I didn’t know where to start. I’d always got on well with Greg; at least he spoke to me, even though our rare conversations were usually about work. I was fairly sure that I could trust him.

But THIS? This is something else

I decided to try a half-truth because I was certain that the whole truth would get me the sack. “I’m having personal problems.” Then I panicked. “Look, I think I’d better resign and look for another job.”

“Hey, not so fast! Are you gay? Is that it?” he asked, rising from his chair and walking around his desk.

“My father says I am, so I suppose I must be,” I answered, quietly and not very convincingly.

For what seemed like hours, but was probably only a minute or so, he leaned against the desk with his arms folded. I felt his eyes boring into my very soul. He finally said, “No, if you were, you’d know, and it’d be more obvious to other men in the office. It takes one to know one — and you’re not.”

“No, I’m not,” I said, resigned now to having to reveal my deepest secrets to this man — who’d probably just told me that he was gay; I never knew.

“Please tell me; you’re tearing yourself apart, it’s not helping you and it’s burdening me and the firm. Would you prefer to talk to the Personnel Director?”

I shook my head.

“Okay then. You aren’t gay and you’ve never hit on any of the other men or women in the office. That’s either lack of courage or lack of motivation. I’ve known you since you started here and I always thought there was something different about you. What’s her name?”

“Pardon?”

“Oh, come on! It’s the only other option. You aren’t by any means one of the lads and there’s a lot about you that isn’t manly at all. Celia’s mentioned it and we’ve had a brief talk about it. We’ve been quite worried about you.”

He’s talked with Celia about me? I know that she’s my section leader but…

He paused for a few moments, his eyes down on his feet. Then he returned to his chair, rested his elbows on his desk and indicated that I should also sit. He steepled his fingers and seemed deep in thought for about a quarter of a minute. Then he looked up and continued. “John, try to look at it from my point of view. I’m responsible, as your manager, for your work output and quality. If I can help you, I will. As I see it, this can’t go on. Do you mind very much if I ask Celia to join us?

“All right,” I said, resignedly. I was shaking like a leaf as he made the call. I wasn’t sure that this was the way things should be done, but I couldn’t at the time think of anything else.

A gentle knock at the door announced Celia’s arrival. She handed me a cup of water, then sat in the vacant chair next to me.

Greg continued. “John is depressed; you pointed out some details, which kind of corroborated my own thoughts about the situation.”

Celia said, “I’ll do anything I can to help.”

“Thank you. I want John to acknowledge and deal with his feelings — that way we can all get on with our work, and we won’t have to worry about losing our annual performance bonuses.” He’d probably meant to lighten the atmosphere — maybe it did, just a little.

Celia turned to me. “I’m sorry it’s happened this way but it’d be cruel to let it go on. We’re neither blind nor stupid and have figured it out; at least, a few of the women have.”

“But everyone just ignores me — and how do I cope with my parents?” I protested, and then burst into tears. I felt guilty about crying in front of Greg and Celia but I couldn’t stop.

Celia leaned over to give me a hug and a kiss on the cheek, as my body was wracked with heaving sobs. She soothed, “Come on, girl, you can do it!”

It took me a few moments to realise what Celia had said. I looked up at Greg and saw him smiling.

He’d clearly heard and understood Celia’s comment, and said, “I still think you ought to see the Personnel Director.”

I nodded, numbly.

Greg made the call, then he looked at me and smiled. “Take a break, John. Celia, look after him, will you please? John, you can go and see Sue Fuller as soon as you like. How do you feel, now it’s out in the open?”

“Strangely enough, I feel a little calmer,” I said, surprising myself.

As Celia and I stood, he said, “Oh, by the way, you still haven’t told me her name.”

“Jennifer; Jenny for short.”

“Hello Jenny, welcome aboard,” he smiled. How he’d managed all that time in the Navy, an extremely masculine environment, I’ll never know. I’d always thought that he was a good manager but he certainly rose a few points in my estimation when I discovered his sexuality.

“I surely haven’t still got a job after all this?” I asked, incredulously, as Celia and I moved to leave the office.

“Probably not,” he responded, laughing, “But we might have a vacancy for which your twin sister has just the right level of aptitude and experience.”

Celia had to help me out; I couldn’t stop shaking.

I collected a note from Greg and walked shakily to a lift. On my way past her desk, Celia gave me a little finger wave and mouthed “good luck.” I stopped for a moment to smile a “thank you”. My insides felt like lead as I headed for the seventh floor; Melanie, Sue Fuller’s secretary smiled as she gave me two coffees and waved me in.

I trembled as I approached the Personnel Director’s office door. What should I say? And what would she say?

Sue Fuller was a short, slim woman in her mid forties. She had short, blonde hair, of a similar colour to Jane’s, piercing blue eyes and a ready smile. Her desk seemed to dwarf her: she motioned for me to shut the office door and join her at the little coffee table by the window. I felt a pang of envy as she walked over, smoothed her skirt, sat and crossed her legs.

“Hello John,” she said, accepting the coffee I gave her. “What can I do for you?”

I handed over the note.

Sue took it, opened and read it. “Hmmm, it doesn’t give anything away, does it? But your appearance and your behaviour do. Would you like to tell me about it?”

I hesitantly summarised the events of the day and the history behind them.

Sue looked at me and smiled. “What would you like us to do, and when?”

“Are you going to sack me?” I asked.

“Not for having a birth anomaly, we’re not: firstly, it’s illegal and secondly, we don’t work that way. Why get rid of someone who does a good job?”

“That’s a relief for a start. I suppose I should first of all go and see my doctor,” I replied, my shoulders noticeably relaxing as the tension subsided a little. Sue nodded as I told her about my Internet research and my disastrous visit to my parents. “I’ve read horror stories of trans-people suffering harassment by employers and, especially, colleagues.”

“That’s not the way we do business,” she reiterated the official position, “although each case needs to be assessed on its merits. I presume that you are transsexual; we have specific rules about how we deal with members of minorities and I think you’ll find that we’ll be very fair to you.”

“Thank you; that’s a tremendous relief.”

“I agree that you should see your doctor as soon as possible. Meanwhile I’ll look up employment law and take some advice from outside. We already have policies dealing with harassment on the grounds of race, creed and sexuality and there are a number of people who are gay. You aren’t the first and probably won’t be the last person to tread this path. One of the main research groups was started because the founder’s trans-daughter was treated very badly by the company she worked for and the colleagues she worked with. She was made to resign. I’ll say no more except to assure you that we will do our best for you. How does that sound?”

“That’s far more than I’ve ever dreamed of, and I am so grateful for the way everyone has been so caring and supportive. But what do I do if another member of staff objects?”

“We deal with it as I’ve said. I am aware that harassment goes on but it’s illegal and uncaring. As you may know, we’ll not condone harassment or bullying of any kind and, if you should ever feel threatened, please let me know. Is that clear?”

“Yes. Thank you.”

“Good luck with the medical profession. Feel free to contact me at any time. Just ask Melanie for an appointment, but please keep Greg in the loop. He’s a good man and a good manager.”

“I know,” I agreed, as I left her.

I couldn’t concentrate on my work, so Greg sent me home.

Jane seemed quite relieved to find me in that evening. “Thank goodness for that, I did wonder if there’d be anyone here at all.” She hugged and greeted me with a kiss on both cheeks.

I smiled at her. I wore a black long-sleeved edge-to-edge cardigan over a green floral print mini dress. I also wore black, footless tights and ballet slippers. My hair was brushed into a more feminine style and I wore a little makeup. Silver jewellery completed the look. Jane had arrived straight from work so was wearing the usual non-uniform uniform of white tee and grey trouser suit.

I poured some orange juice for Jane, who noticed my relaxed smile, and said, “You’re looking much brighter; what happened today?”

“My boss found out about Jenny.”

“Really?”

“Yes; he said that John is not likely to have a job for long,” then I laughed, and added, “But I might well have.”

“Go on.”

I filled in the details of the day, including the meeting with the Personnel Director. Finally, I told her that I had an appointment with my GP, Doctor Michael Carter.

“Oh; he’s one of our police doctors. So what happens next, and when?”

“Doctor Carter should refer me to a Gender Identity Clinic and, as I seem to have the support of my employer, I might well be able to transition soon and start my Real Life Experience. I know I was scared when I first thought about it but, since last night, I’ve realised that I have to do this.”

“You’ve certainly done your homework, but what about your parents?” Jane asked.

“I don’t hold out much hope for my father, but my mother already knows about me, so I’ll try to keep in touch with her at least — oh and she wants photos of her daughter and her friend. My brother is a few years older than I am; he’s very much an unknown quantity but is probably a chip off his old dad.”

We both sat down and Jane put her arm around my shoulder; I snuggled in close. Jane didn’t seem to mind that.

“Jane?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m puzzled.”

“Oh and here’s me thinking you’re Jenny.”

“Be serious for a few minutes. Yesterday you said that you’d tell me this evening why you’re prepared to help me.”

“Well, there are two reasons,” she answered. “Firstly, there’s my sister.”

“You never mentioned her before; is she younger or older?”

“She was older; she’s now dead,” she said, enigmatically.

“Oh, I’m so sorry; what happened?” I asked.

“She drowned.”

“Oh, that’s so sad.”

“Put it this way; Robert and Rosalie were with us for some years, both in the same person. Rosalie was always the dominant personality and Robert, well, that’s just what my parents named her when she was born with something like a male body.”

“Oh, I understand now. That explains why you know so much about transgender people.”

She nodded. She was quiet for a few moments, and then continued. “Then Rosalie died. She hid her gender problem quite well. Not from me but from our mother, our stepfather and the rest of the world. I was twelve when Robert officially became Rosalie and thirteen when she died or, in my opinion, was murdered. I’d just turned thirteen two days earlier; some birthday present that was.”

“My God, what happened?”

“The usual problems. If you aren’t everyone’s idea of a son and heir, don’t excel at sport, aren’t built like a brick outhouse, don’t join the gang, don’t lay everything in a skirt, and don’t swap dirty stories with the lads, you get buggered, beaten up or both. Boys’ public schools were not suitable places of education for Rosalie. I don’t suppose that a girl’s school would have handled it much better. I had to make all the right noises and keep my head down when I was at school otherwise I too would probably have attracted the wrong kind of attention. You probably had to act a lot when you were a child; Rosalie was quite an actor.”

“I know that feeling only too well,” I put in, morosely.

“Anyway, Rosalie wasn’t built to take all of that. She was a gentle soul, the kind who would bring home an injured bird, stay up all night with it if necessary and nurse it back to heath. The brutal regime got to her — she was just too gentle and sensitive. She was a tiny little thing, much shorter than I was even though she was older, and with looks most girls would kill for. My mother and stepfather did nothing for her — other than tell her to “be a man” - and polite society treated her like they’d just stepped in something messy that one of the horses had left.

“She helped me through childhood, especially when I had my first period. I was her only friend, before and after transition but it wasn’t enough. Rosalie was found, face down in our lake. I’ve always been convinced that she was murdered. Certainly, there seemed to be a wall of silence surrounding the whole business. I wouldn’t be surprised to learn that some of the local upright, hypocritical citizens, probably led by Daddy Dearest, killed her. Everyone was against her, probably because she didn’t conform to their idea of what a man should be. She wasn’t made for this world. If there is a hereafter, I just hope that she found peace.”

Then she burst into tears.

I saw Jane angry last night, but never so upset; I just held her and whispered soothingly until the tears subsided.

She smiled weakly. “I loved her so much. I know lots of siblings don’t get on but Rosalie was everything to me: the most loving and lovable sister and friend anyone could wish for. We helped each other with clothes, makeup, everything. We even went out shopping as sisters when our so-called parents were away. We knew each other’s secrets, shared each other’s joys and sadness. And there was a lot of sadness. The poor girl didn’t deserve to die that way; she had so much to give and so much to live for.

“I know it was a long time ago, but I still can’t think about it without getting very, very angry. I also knew from an early age that I was attracted to other girls and it’s never changed; if anything it just….” Her voice suddenly went quiet and menacing. Then she sighed. “I also had a bad experience when I was thirteen; I was still mourning the loss of Rosalie and was probably distracted. Perhaps Daddy Dearest thought it would make me, in his eyes, ‘Normal’ — you know, grow up, come out, find a wealthy husband and have loads of children. I presume that he wanted grandchildren. I never knew the bastard who raped me on my way back from a walk; he disappeared without apparent trace once the deed had been done. If he had been caught, he’d probably have ended up in prison or a Young Offender’s Institution for attacking a minor. Of course, I was branded a teenage slut and so on by those who didn’t know how it happened; I was glad to leave home.”

She said this with so much venom; I was glad that I wasn’t on her ‘wanted — dead’ list at that moment.

She continued angrily. “I decided when I was younger that I would join the police force. When Rosalie was killed, that only made the feeling stronger. My mother and my stepfather nearly had kittens when they found out about my sexuality. They went totally berserk when I said that I wanted a job where I could put away the vermin of society, like the ones who murdered Rosalie and…. attacked me,” she noticeably shuddered. “I got the impression that my stepfather was involved up to his thick neck, although nothing was ever proven. Perhaps my mother might have regretted any involvement but by then, of course, it was too late. She never talked about it, anyway. My career decision went down like a lead balloon and resulted in a lot of shouting. I haven’t spoken to either my mother or stepfather since I left home to go to university. I wasn’t allowed to see a doctor during the pregnancy unless it was one of my stepfather’s tame friends; I had to carry the baby to term and have it adopted.”

My parents just said, “That was bad luck, you conceiving on your first date.”

Jane said, scornfully, “Date? HA! All I knew was that I’d had a little girl. I know that I will never forget that little life which grew inside me for nine months. I often wonder what became of her. She was taken from me within hours of my giving birth; I don’t even know her name. Termination was not an option, especially with parents who were staunch Catholics.”

I was stunned. “That’s terrible! So all you know is that you were a mother!”

She nodded.

I said, “As for me, I’ve always known I was female, even before I was old enough to work out a lot of the differences between boys and girls. I just never had the opportunity or the courage to do anything about it; I first mentioned it before I started pre-school and got the “don’t be so stupid” treatment.”

I continued to cuddle into Jane for a good few minutes after that and then gently asked, “You said two reasons. What’s the other one?”

End of part 5