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 12 of 25 — New Beginnings

July 2004

Thursday the first of July saw me rising very early so that I could ensure that my appearance was as perfect as I could make it. A quick run over my legs with the epilator and a fragrant bath set me up for a thorough moisturise and one of my favourite underwear sets, in powder blue. I then dressed in a cornflower blue floral top, my cream linen-look skirt and cream sandals. I checked for stray eyebrow hairs, tweezed a few stragglers as best I could, and put on my makeup. My jewellery consisted of my sapphire pendant, diamond ear-studs and my ring. I brushed my hair until it shone and then opted for a spritz of Estée Lauder.

After some cereal and a cup of tea, I decided that I would prefer to arrive at the office sooner rather than later, so I put on my jacket, picked up my bag and set off to walk to work.

I had a touch of nerves as I walked into the building but I braced myself, collected my new photo-ID, clipped it to the waistband of my skirt and walked to the lift. I emerged onto my floor and hesitated a moment before going further. I found Celia already at her desk.

On seeing me, she leapt to her feet and ran over to me. “Oh, Wow! Don’t you look terrific!” she enthused, whilst wrapping me in a hug, then held me at arm’s length and stood back to examine me. “This is so wonderful; I’ve been looking forward to today for the past month. What a gorgeous outfit and you’ve had your hair done. And I just love the new spectacles: you didn’t go for contact lenses, then?” Eventually she stopped, as she’d run out of breath.

I shook my head. “They don’t make contact lenses to my prescription, so I’m stuck with these.”

“Well I think they look great, just like Joanna Harrison who reads the news on telly, I’m sure that sales of women’s specs must have rocketed since she’s been on.“

“That’s what Jane told me,” I said. “I’m a bag of nerves; what will everyone say?”

“The announcement went out last week and we had a steady flow of questions. Maddy just said, “What took her so long?” A few of the men reckon you’re mad to give up all the ‘benefits of manhood’ — yeah, right! We all know we’re the superior sex, don’t we?” She laughed. “Sarah wanted to know which toilet you would use. Some, both men and women, wanted to know if you had a boyfriend already; I told them to mind their own business. Freddie from IT Security asked if I could get him a date with you. Yeah, really!

“Greg has been great, with only favourable comments. I reckon you’ll have to run the gauntlet today and then it should quickly tail off as people see that you’re quite normal; you know, don’t have two heads and don’t eat children; that sort of thing.”

I laughed. “Thank you both,” I said, sincerely, as we walked to my desk. “I can’t get over how easy this seems to have been so far: I worry that something will rear up and bite me to bring me down off cloud nine.”

“Don’t you worry, love, Jill and I will look after you.”

Just then Greg emerged from the lift and did a double take.

“Jenny?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“The very same,” I answered, smiling.

“Wow! You look hot, as they say.”

I bobbed him a little curtsey. “Well, thank you kind sir, I do my best.”

He laughed. “Your photo doesn’t do you justice. Anyway, welcome aboard. Oh, Celia tells me that you have a girlfriend.”

“Yes, kind of spoils the image a bit, doesn’t it?”

“Oh, don’t worry about it; at least you won’t be competing for the attentions of the men. When they get over their disappointment… not that I’m interested, of course; Andy would give me hell!” He chuckled as he walked into his office. On the way in, he called over his shoulder, “Oh, Jenny, would you come in for a minute, please?”

I hung my jacket in the cupboard near the lift, put my bag into my desk drawer and then walked into his office, closing the door behind me.

“Jenny, I expect that Celia has already filled you in a little on events last week. There were no major problems; Sue Fuller was running the show, so no one put a foot wrong. I’ll leave a message for her that you’re in, as I’m sure that she’ll want to see you. Meanwhile, as usual, no one covered for you while you were away last week so there’s quite a lot of work in your Inbox. Normal rules apply: you earn your leave before you take it and then pay for it again when you return. I’m sure that you just want to get stuck in as soon as possible and get on with the job.”

I laughed at his comment about the rules of annual leave and stood up. “Thanks, Greg, I’ll wait for a call from Mrs Fuller; meanwhile I’ll just carry on.”

“See you later,” he said, grinning.

“Thanks for all your help, I really appreciate it,” I said as I turned to go.

“And you really have made it easy for us by looking so good. Your appearance just shouts ‘professional woman’ and only does you credit. Mind you, I’d have expected nothing less, knowing you.”

I left the office and walked slowly back to my desk.

Celia came over to me and whispered, “Is Greg gay?

“I don’t suppose he’d deny it if asked a direct question.”

“I didn’t know.”

“Neither did I until recently, when I found out. It doesn’t matter to me anyway; I’m not interested. Greg’s not my type.”

“And your type is?”

“You know very well who she is!” I smiled and walked to my desk.

All morning, people either came up to speak to me or glanced over to where I was sitting. I often felt eyes upon me even when I had my head down, concentrating on a complex task. Jill and Maddy paid me a visit and made enthusiastic comments about my appearance and courage. I again thanked Jill for all her help during the previous week and at other times. She just welcomed me back to the office and insisted that I join Celia and her for lunch. I gratefully accepted.

“I don’t know how you managed to bottle it up for so long, it must have been hell,” Maddy said, perceptively.

“Yes, it was. Now all I have to do is calm down a bit, get on with my work and prove that I am at least as good as I was before, if not better.”

They laughed and returned to their desks. They all knew that a woman usually had to be much better at her job to be in the same grade as a man. And as for promotion…

It was very strange to begin with: everything felt so new and awkward but I soon settled down and settled into a routine. Indeed, without the distraction of the gender problem, I became so immersed in my work that the end of the afternoon came much earlier than I was anticipating. And the amount of work that I had achieved was truly amazing, making serious inroads into the backlog caused by my absence. I’d received a call from Sue Fuller just after lunch, so I made my way to the seventh floor.

“Hello, Jenny. “Melanie greeted me. “My, but you look good. Congratulations on being brave enough to go ahead with this move.”

“Brave? Maybe. Desperate? Yes indeed.”

I received the same greeting from Sue Fuller who just smiled, and patted the chair next to her. I sat, crossed my legs, and smiled right back.

“Greg rang me this morning to tell me that you’d arrived. And I was right; I said the week before last that you’d walk in here like you’ve been doing it all your life. You look so comfortable and natural sitting there.”

“Well, I suppose that today does constitute all my working life anyway.”

She smiled and gave me copies of the new Transgender Policy and Sexuality Policy to review. “A copy of the Sexuality Policy has already been vetted by the Government’s Women and Equality Unit. I’ll send both documents to the main Transgender campaigning groups for their comments. Yes, I’ve done my homework so I know who they are.”

“I’m very impressed.”

“Well, getting it right is a lot less trouble and causes us fewer problems than getting it wrong; the latter just isn’t worth it. And I’m not telling you who has already tested the Sexuality Policy.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to do so; I would be deeply offended if my situation were discussed with anyone else. Although I do know one other person who is gay; I only found that out recently because he told me.”

“Well, when we say ‘private and confidential’, that’s just what we mean. As I’ve said before, the firm is very strict about such things and my job and my future would both be in jeopardy if there was a hint of information going astray. By the way, did you have any trouble with security this morning?”

“No: I showed Jimmy the letter which you sent me; he took a new photo and gave me a new pass. He didn’t say a word.”

“I wouldn’t expect him to say anything: Jimmy has been here a long time and there’s very little that he hasn’t seen or that escapes his notice. He has never been known to divulge a confidence, though.”

Back at my desk, I surveyed the contents of my Inbox and Outbox and felt that, for the first time in simply ages, I really was earning my salary. Clearly, there were issues to be addressed: inevitably someone might take exception to my change; I fully expected at some time to be the butt of some cruel joke or other and there was, of course, my father to deal with.

Still, all that could wait until tomorrow. For today, I was on a definite high and I felt that nobody could knock me off it.

It’s as well I’m not clairvoyant.

~ O ~

“How did it go?” Jane asked when she telephoned later that evening. She was unable to visit as she was away on a course.

“Very well,” I answered, “To be truthful, I can’t get over how great it was, at least for the first day back.”

“I think you’re just being a bit pessimistic, I told you they’d love you.”

“Well, I think I’d like to see how things are after a few weeks before I feel completely relaxed.”

“And what will you do if things start to turn nasty?”

“I…I don’t know. Maybe it won’t come to that.”

“I’ll see you on Friday evening. I’m away just now but that’s the job. If you have any problems, though, you ring my mobile phone straight away, do you hear?

“Yes Miss,” I replied.

“No, I mean it. I’ll not have my girl given a hard time. I’ll ring when I can. Love you lots.”

“Okay, love you more, bye.” I hung up the phone and sat down for a moment before going to cook my dinner. I contemplated all that had happened that day and felt that I at least had the support of the other girls in the office, Greg and Mrs Fuller and, of course, my darling Jane. That was something.

~ O ~

3rd July was the start of the Tour de France; many would call it the highlight of the world cycle racing calendar. I knew of Jane’s interest in the race and made sure that I had plenty of videotapes available for the days, over the next few weeks, that Jane would be unable to watch. While I’d previously had no interest in sport, I decided to watch the race so that Jane and I had something else to talk about when we met.

As the beautiful French countryside unfolded before the cameras, and the excitement of the race increased, I became inexplicably drawn to the sport and could see its appeal. When Jane was able to be with me, I really settled into the hostess role, planning the drinks and snacks so as not to miss the action on the television. The race calendar, unfortunately, coincided with a period of intense activity for Jane and she was grateful for the opportunity to catch up on the daily highlights that I had recorded.

~ O ~

I felt that I’d been doing this all my life instead of just a few short weeks. Work seemed to be so much easier and many people greeted me as though they had been doing it for years. My bond with the other girls grew from strength to strength: coffees; lunches; chats; sharing makeup and clothing tips; little shopping trips; I continued to be amazed at the seemingly total acceptance by everyone. My relationship with my colleagues, including Greg, just seemed more natural and much less strained than before. As I became more and more at ease, my work output increased.

Towards the end of the third week, Greg called me into his office and reminded me of a big expenditure analysis that took me two very long days. The Finance Director thanked us for our work on an urgent project. I was a little embarrassed as I was singled out for special mention.

“Well, that’s a brownie point for us both at the next performance appraisal; you for doing the work and me for being clever enough to employ you in the first place.” He punched the air as though he’d just won the Olympics, and shouted “Yeah!”

“Thanks, Greg, I feel so much more relaxed these days and, apart from the remaining procedures which I have to go through, I feel great.”

“Well, keep that up and you should receive a decent bonus next year.”

“Thanks again, I really appreciate that. When I think that I was very worried that I wouldn’t even have a job after all this,” I waved my hand to indicate what I was wearing, “And now I seem to be floating on air, I sometimes can’t quite believe it.”

“Believe it, girl, you’re doing fine.”

Greg had always been a good manager, and a fair one. I walked out with my head held high.

~ O ~

I was looking forward to the weekend. Jane had been away on a course and I missed her terribly. Although we kept in touch by telephone, it just wasn’t the same. And so, when the Friday evening came around, I was really excited.

I had warned Jane not to eat much at lunchtime as I was cooking dinner. I decided on roast beef with all the trimmings; Yorkshire pudding, roast and boiled potatoes, carrots and several green vegetables. Having put the beef in to cook and prepared the vegetables, I went to bathe and change.

I poured in a generous measure of bath oil and checked for any hairs that didn’t belong. Afterwards, I patted myself dry, creamed and powdered my body and washed and dried my auburn hair, brushing it until it shone. It seemed to be getting longer by the week, although it was wishful thinking; hair just doesn’t grow that quickly. But David really had done a wonderful job and it would grow out nicely into a very attractive style that framed my face; it had a natural wave that seemed to give it some extra body.

I applied my makeup and then looked through my wardrobe for something to wear. “Tonight might be a good opportunity to debut my Little Black Dress,” I mused, taking it from the hanger.

Finally, in the kitchen, I put on my apron and started to prepare the Yorkshire pudding and vegetables. The Yorkshire pudding needed a hotter oven than the beef and I was again glad that I’d paid the extra money that my double-oven cooker had cost.

Jane arrived to find the dinner well under way. She greeted me with her usual kiss and a cuddle and held me at arm’s length for a few seconds.

“Yes, that dress is so definitely you,” then, “I’m just going for a shower and change into something less work-like.” She disappeared into the second bedroom, where she had taken to keeping some of her off-duty clothes and accessories. She emerged later, obviously on a mission. I heard her muttering something about making up for lost time as she headed in my direction. She grabbed me around the waist and started nibbling my ear.

“You are insatiable,” I laughed and, turning around, flung my arms around her neck. She was wearing a red dress that covered very little of her body and showed off her wonderful long legs. With her gold jewellery and red medium-heeled sandals, she looked scrumptious.

She stopped her nuzzling only long enough to ask, “Are you complaining?”

As if I would

“Of course I’m not complaining, I’m merely stating a fact.”

We stood as closely as two people could co-exist in the same space and only reluctantly parted when the potatoes began to show signs of boiling over.

“Bugger,” she said, letting go of my waist.

“No thanks,” I replied as I attended to the cooker. She slapped me on the backside and I giggled as I dealt with the offending saucepan. I turned back to Jane, resuming my hold on her neck.

“I’ve missed you so much,” I admitted.

“So have I,” Jane asserted, “missed you, that is. I confess to having had acute withdrawal symptoms over the past few weeks.”

She took the opportunity to open the bottle of red wine that she had brought and, having set the table and put out wine glasses, put the bottle on the table so that it could breathe.

“I’ve something to tell you after dinner,” she said, seriously.

I gave her a little half-smile; the way that she said it worried me.

Dinner was very pleasant and Jane remarked that it was great to be back to home cooking after a couple of weeks away. “The food on the course was quite passable; I’d pass it to Ruth, who’d pass it to Colin, who’d scrape it into a bin. We survived mainly on sandwiches. On the last evening, we all sent out for a Chinese takeaway.”

We spent a pleasant hour or so catching up on the events of the past two weeks and, by then I could hold my curiosity no longer.

“Okay then, what’s your news?”

“Meet Detective Sergeant Jane Dyson.”

I don’t think I’d ever moved so fast. I let out a delighted squeal and was around the table like a squirrel, showering Jane with kisses. “Oh how wonderful! Was this what the course was about? Why didn’t you let me know what was going on?”

“I might not have had quite that reaction if I did,” she joked, not really believing it for a minute. “Anyway, I had to pass an exam at the end of the course.”

“Wow! Do you stay in the area or what?”

“Well, I really have to move as there isn’t a vacancy here.”

My face fell and my stomach suddenly felt hollow. I asked timidly, “H…How far away will you have to go?”

“Oh, about ten miles, I should think.”

I breathed a sigh of relief, mixed with exasperation, mixed with something I couldn’t put a name to. “Jane Dyson, I’m sure that you get some devious pleasure from winding me up. I give you fair warning; when we’ve washed up the dinner things, I’m going to exact my revenge.”

“Oh, I can hardly wait. Why don’t you invest in a dishwasher?”

“Firstly, because I’ve not needed one before; there’s only been me to cater for, as you well know. And, secondly, where am I to put it in that kitchen?”

“I wasn’t thinking of that kitchen.”

“You are a sneaky bitch; what are you up to now?”

“Oh, just some forward planning.”

“Hmm, I’m not sure I want to know.”

“Oh, believe me; you do really want to know.”

“Go on then, oh great and mighty detective, what’s on that tricky mind of yours this time?” then I hastily added, “Other than taking off all our clothes.”

“Well, that’s always my opening gambit. I thought that, maybe, we might get something with a patio or balcony. I rather fancy the idea of sitting, watching the sunset and guzzling a Pina Colada brought to me by my favourite accountant.”

That definitely earned her a tickling match, which she easily won by superior knowledge of ways of rendering me completely helpless. Once all the dinner things had been cleared away, the washing up done, and we were snuggled up together, I said, conspiratorially, “I had a telephone call at work today.”

“From?”

“The Gender Clinic.”

“WHAT? Why didn’t you say earlier?”

“Well, we did get rather side-tracked.”

“I’d have thought it more important than my promotion.”

“Oh, I don’t know so much; it is quite an honour being the girlfriend of a female Poirot (Agatha Christie’s fictional Belgian detective). Anyway, it’s been two months since we saw Judy Davenport and I’d about given up hope of an early appointment. Then the clinic rang today to offer me a cancellation and could I go next Thursday? Naturally, I turned that down as it was such short notice.”

“Why don’t I believe you?” Jane enquired, turning on me with hands ready for tickling or fondling, she hadn’t decided which.

“Hmm, I’d never make a good criminal, you’d see through me straight away.”

“That’s one of your most endearing charms,” she said, deliberately misquoting an Irish folk song.

That started another round of giggling, which rapidly turned into a ‘making up for lost time’ episode, which inevitably led us to the bedroom ….

Much later, Jane said, “I’ll take a day’s leave; what time is your appointment?”

“There’s really no need and, anyway, from what I’ve read, it pays to be seen as heterosexual. I won’t mention my sexuality. I will just say that, as a male, I was asexual.”

“I still don’t see that another woman couldn’t accompany you; at least they’d see that you are able to relate to another woman as a friend — and yes, I promise to keep my hands to myself for as long as necessary.”

I sighed. “I give in. The appointment is at eleven o’clock.”

“Good, that gives us plenty of time to get there by train and tube; and I think that somewhere nice for lunch is called for.”

~ O ~

Saturday and Sunday were spent in totally unproductive idleness.

This was the final weekend of the Tour de France. Saturday morning found us shopping in Southampton. The most money we spent was in a coffee shop, but we had a wonderful time trying on various items of clothing, some more erotic than others.

Later, back home in front of the television, I silently (or maybe not) sat contemplating my newly found interest in cycle sport or, at least, one aspect of it. I felt such contentment as I cuddled into my beloved and watched all the action on the screen in front of us.

~ O ~

Sunday was the final day of the Tour de France and we were looking forward to the televised coverage. I had set the video recorder to capture the whole day’s action so that we could review it at leisure, and we were glued to the screen for virtually the whole day. I had planned a chicken casserole which we could eat whenever we felt like it, which I thought might well coincide with a suitable gap in the programming. We didn’t move much from the settee as the tension mounted. There was much shouting and cheering in the room when the winner was announced, and I certainly shed a tear when the race was over

~ O ~

As I worked flexitime, I was able to leave work early on the Wednesday for an appointment with the beautician and hairdresser. It had been about six weeks since I was last there and I really needed a trim. Gaynor also did her usual and I told her all that had happened over the past few weeks, including my work, my mum’s visit and Jane’s promotion.

Then it was off upstairs where David complimented me on my appearance as he trimmed my hair. I felt that the clinic couldn’t fault my appearance. I had, after all, just spent the best part of a hundred pounds in the salon and hoped that they would appreciate it. At least, I mused, there was a certain special someone who would definitely appreciate it.

~ O ~

Jane arrived early on the Thursday. She kissed me and then went off in search of breakfast ingredients, before we left for the railway station and the journey to London.

I was again surprised when she purchased two first class tickets; when the train arrived, she led me to a virtually empty carriage.

She just smiled at my expression and simply said, “Nothing but the best for my girlfriend.”

It’s just like last month

It promised to be a very warm day so I had chosen to wear a pale blue sundress with a pattern of small white flowers; I’d read that the clinic didn’t like it if you wore trousers or shorts. Jeans were a definite ‘no-no’. Jane wore a lavender strappy top with a white cotton skirt. Both of us had low-heeled wedge sandals in deference to the amount of walking that we intended to do. London rarely lost its stuffy and sticky atmosphere, particularly in the height of summer, so comfort was all-important.

The Glendale Clinic was a modern building occupying three floors. It had moved out of the main hospital a few years ago as the latter had needed the space. It boasted up-to-date facilities including wheelchair access to all areas, a very good coffee shop, a kiosk selling everything from newspapers to ‘sandwiches to go’ and a very pleasant little secluded garden where you could wait for your appointment, meet with friends, take some refreshment or simply relax in the sun - when there was any to be seen.

The doctor was running a little late, but finally called for me to go in; I was relieved that he hadn’t called for John. He wanted to see me alone, so Jane said that she would buy a magazine and sit in the garden; I thought that I might be about an hour.

Ian Stalbridge was in his late 50’s, balding, slightly running to fat and wore spectacles. He was dressed in a three-piece suit; it must have been uncomfortable at that time of year. He had a habit of resting his spectacles halfway down his nose and peering over the top of them when addressing other people.

“Good morning,” he greeted me and offered me a seat. “I have here the referral letter from Doctor Davenport. Now, you have probably read all sorts of things and heard all sorts of rumours about how we work here; how we make you jump through hoops and keep you waiting forever for anything that even smells like progress. Well, we don’t work that way: I’d like to think that you and I are partners in a quest to find the ideal way forward for you. It’s my job to help you to do that and I would obviously be very grateful if you could do your part and be totally honest with me.”

Bullshit

“That’s just what I want,” I responded, carefully. “I’ve read some horror stories but it’s clear that some people have been the authors of their own misfortune.”

Perhaps I should try politics; say a lot but tell them nothing

“Quite so. Now, please tell me all about yourself, your feelings and where you would like to go with this.”

Starting with early childhood, I outlined all the significant events of my life so far. I didn’t tell him about the hormones that I had taken, nor did I tell him about the nature of the relationship with Jane. I did, however, mention that my friend Jane had effectively brought me out of the closet. I also mentioned that I was now legally Jenny and that I was living and working full-time in role.

“That’s impressive,” Doctor Stalbridge said, “Few people get anywhere near that in five months, it usually takes much longer. Tell me, what do you use for breasts?”

He must have noticed me wince at his direct and insensitive question. However, I composed myself and replied, “I recently visited a shop in London and was fitted for a pair of stick-on breast forms although I will obviously be much happier when I have more of my own. Since my late teens, I’ve been a bit fleshy up top and I’m hoping to see an endocrinologist soon to find out why my body doesn’t seem to have produced much testosterone, not that I’ve ever wanted the stuff anyway.”

“I must admit that you do look good and that has to be a factor in your favour. Tell me about your sexual orientation.”

“I’ve thought about this quite a lot,” I replied, trying not to tell lies but not wanting to tell the whole truth. “When in the male role, I had no feelings for men whatsoever, other than disgust and not a little hatred for those who bullied me, and the only feelings I had for other women were ones of jealousy. Now, I’m not sure. I think it’s just too early to tell.”

“Maybe it will become clearer when you start hormones.”

I perked up at this and smiled.

“Would you like to start hormones?” he asked.

“Yes, that would be wonderful. Then my body should hopefully finish aligning itself to that which my mind says I am and always have been.”

“We don’t prescribe hormones on the first visit; this is just an exploratory talk to assess you and work out how we can help you.”

My face clearly showed my disappointment but I asked, with false brightness, “Can I arrange a follow-up appointment?”

“Not yet. We, that is, my colleagues and I discuss your case and then ask you to come back, perhaps in a few months.”

“Oh.”

“That’s not what you wanted to hear, was it?”

“I thought that, as I had transitioned, have a job and my hormones are all over the place, that I could start on a proper dose of hormones soon and have corrective surgery as soon as possible.”

He said, “I obviously can’t make any promises. I’ll give you an explanatory leaflet, which sets out our requirements and our best guess as to a probable timetable, and we’ll see you in a few months. There are four of us in the team and you might not see me next time.”

I hope not; he seems to be a control freak with an over-inflated ego. He’s probably got a small willy and is trying to compensate for it. He’s also about as tactful as a hungry mosquito.

We stood; he showed me to the door and made to placate me.

“Don’t get despondent. These things take time and there’s a very good reason for that. We don’t want any mistakes: you think you know what you want, but we have to be convinced. And mistakes can cause a lifetime of unhappiness.”

So you’ve completely ignored the blood test results

I had been in the consulting room for almost an hour and emerged to find Jane waiting. By the look on my face, she knew that someone else had stamped on the brake pedal. We had lunch and travelled home in silence; Jane knew that I was absorbed in my own thoughts and disappointment over the outcome of the meeting so just kept me company and took my hand at every opportunity.

~ O ~

Saturday and Sunday were again spent in unproductive idleness. I’d managed to shake off much of the gloom I felt after my visit to the clinic so, on Saturday morning, we went to Southampton for the shopping. We purchased only coffees and lunches but had a wonderful time trying on various items of clothing - again, some more erotic than others.

Then, in the afternoon, we went to the cinema. It was the first time for several years that I had been to see a movie, and the first time with Jane. She naturally wanted to sit in the back row but I tactfully reminded her of my sight problem and that we would get a better view around the centre.

“If I had my way, you wouldn’t be seeing much of the film,” Jane said with a smile.

“Do you like salt in your tea?” I asked, playfully.

“Spoilsport,” she said, reluctantly.

We did enjoy the film, a romantic comedy. I linked arms with her for most of the performance and thoroughly enjoyed the experience.

August 2004

I went into work on the Monday morning and took with me a selection of cakes that I’d purchased on the way. This was by way of a celebration for my new life, and the first month of my new working life. I was surprised and relieved that everyone had appeared so accepting and, after wandering around the office inviting everyone to participate in my happiness I walked over to my desk and sorted through the post. I found an envelope on it addressed to John Smith. Without thinking I picked it up and opened it. A folded piece of paper fell out.

“YOU THOUGHT YOU’D GOT AWAY WITH IT? SO THE PERVERT THINKS HE CAN INVADE THE LADIES TOILET BY WEARING A SKIRT? WRONG!”

End of part 12