There was something undeniably special about the young woman. She sat wrapped in the comforting half-light of the Hilton dining room, her eyes scanned the view across Auckland harbour and yet she was intensely aware of the man who sat opposite her. The woman was undeniably elegant, self possessed, she could hardly be thirty yet but had the bearing and confidence that normally needs matured years to blossom. The secluded table she shared with her handsome companion was bathed in an orange glow from the setting sun, the light dancing and highlighting their faces. Their lavish meal finished, they now sipped at glasses of aged Cognac feeling disinhibited and mellow.
"So," he said "I've wined and dined you..." She placed a finger to his lips stopping his words.
"Don't spoil things darling, you've been on your best behaviour tonight."
"I need you." He said quietly and yet with an unmistakable urgency. "I've taken a room here... My usual one."
She smiled at him as if he were a child with his nose pressed against a toy-shop window yearning for something he could not afford.
"I've told you many times that I'm not interested in getting involved with you in that way, I think of you as a friend, possibly even a dear friend, but nothing more."
"Most women jump at the chance to spend a night with me... what is it? Don't you find me attractive."
"I know your wife finds you attractive," she said pointedly "and no doubt the string of girlfriends you keep on a tight rein."
"Is that it? You don't approve of my morals."
"Darling," She laughed tossing back her hair so that it caught the shimmering light "you don't have any morals... It's probably what I like most about you." She leaned in close to him and he could feel her breath on his ear as if she were about to tell a secret that only he in all the world was worthy to know. He tried to speak but she shushed him again with her finger.
"Look, I have absolutely no problem with the fact that you enjoy wallowing in your unrepentant lechery; the problem lies elsewhere."
"Well tell me, whatever it is I'll fix it."
"You won't be able to darling."
"So what is it?"
"Can't you guess?... Have you ever seen me with a boyfriend?"
"You mean you like girls?"
She smiled but did not reply allowing the obvious conclusion to sink in while she sipped demurely from her glass.
"Now that is a surprise, I never would have guessed, you look so..."
"You expect all lesbians to look butch? That's a rather naive view for someone so worldly. In any case darling, I don't feel any need at all to publicise the intimate details of my private life."
"Unlike me" He said.
"I hardly think you publicise your private life; for a start there's far too much of it for any one to believe." She laughed almost primly, pretending to a naivety that she had lost long ago.
"So you're saying that I'm beyond redemption?"
"Of course you are... but don't start putting words in my mouth."
He took a mouthful of amber liquid from his glass and swallowed slowly, the cognac warming and relaxing as he rolled it over his tongue. Then in a half whisper, almost as if speaking to himself:
"It's not words I'd like to put in your mouth."
She gasped feigning shock before bursting into a little school-girl laugh.
"You say the sweetest things but you know I have rather sharp teeth darling."
"Ouch..." He let the disturbing mental image fade. "OK I give up. I wish it weren't so but we can't fight against our natures I suppose. Even so, you are still a goddess of a woman and I can't guarantee that you won't still make an appearance in my fantasies from time to time."
"I'll take that as a complement..." She said. "I'll be sure not to let my girlfriend know that she has a competitor."
"You have a girlfriend?"
"Well that's hardly surprising is it? If you're a very good boy I may introduce you to her one day. But don't let that put you off we can still be friends can't we, I'd hate to lose you from my circle of companions."
"Me too... guess I'll have to start thinking of you as one the guys... So how long have you..."
"Been a lesbian?"
"Well yes."
"For ever... how long have you been a hetero?"
He laughed and with a barely perceptible lift of a finger, indicated across the dining room for the waitress to splash a little more of the distilled nectar into their glasses. The waitress was a pretty young woman dressed in a crisp white blouse and a black skirt that was deliciously tight. He had noticed her earlier with some satisfaction and his computer-like brain was already calculation the odds on getting her to come up to his room later – it would be a pity to waste the room. As she scampered off to retrieve the precious bottle he considered that they were stinging him an eye-watering $85 a glass for this rather special distillation but he was comforted by the realisation that his self-made fortune would allow him to bathe in the stuff if he so chose.
His attention returned to his companion:
"So I take your point... I guess by the time we enter the world all that sexual preference stuff is pretty well sorted, chiselled in stone."
"It was for me but I don't believe it is for everyone, if you can find a crack then persuasion can be a powerful force... In principal I mean, not for you or me perhaps but for those sweet androgynous boys you see about these days. It might even be fun probing their boundaries."
"You're saying that you could take such a boy and make him turn gay."
"Maybe for those who have an unawakened inclination to waver."
"I think that's very unlikely."
"Really... I think I could go even further, find me a suitable boy and I could probably turn him into a woman."
"No way." He laughed.
"Within a year." She added, confirming her confidence in the matter.
"That's just not possible, people are not so easily swayed or you would be in my bed tonight."
"I have already accepted that in our cases we are where we are but I believe that for a few, that status is not as fixed as many might imagine. I think most people have a nature that sits somewhere in the centre of the male female spectrum and we simply accept the identity that our bodies, and society, dictate. But imagine a pretty boy, possibly with naturally low testosterone teetering on the edge..." She smiled and presented her glass to the hovering waitress for a refill.
"I take your point in principal but I still think you are way off the mark." He said.
She waited until her glass had been replenished, flashing a smile at the arousing young woman and mouthing a seductive thank you; wondering wistfully what she might be doing later.
The moment of distraction soon passed and turning her eyes back to her companion she made, mostly in jest, a little proposition:
"I don't suppose you would care to make a wager..." she said "all we need is a suitable candidate."
I first met Andrea when I lived in a different world. Trying to remember my life before Andrea is like trying to dredge memories from a stranger's life. I had just turned twenty two at the time and went by the name of Alexander. Apart from my group of business acquaintances I was alone in the world working for Spencer Clarke as his personal assistant. I can't imagine two more different people than Spencer and myself. He confident and filled with self assured arrogance and me... not. In personality I was the Yin to his Yang, the north pole to his south; and yet the aphorism that opposites attract was hardly evident in our case. Spencer was undeniably handsome, with a powerfully masculine presence and possessed of an astute entrepreneurial nature which had made him extremely wealthy. His acquisitive fingers delved easily and profitably into any financial pie that caught his interest. At forty he was a domineering man and still extremely driven. I guess my reserved nature complemented that of Spencer in some trivial ways and we seemed, superficially at least, to work together well. But I am probably grossly exaggerating my value to him. If I were completely honest then I have to admit that any number of people could have done my job, probably better than I. Looking back, I see now that the meagre salary that Spencer deemed suitable for me was probably a fair measure of my worth to the company.
If Spencer had a flaw beyond his excessive self belief, his inflated ego, then it was his inability to walk away from a challenge. Experience had taught him that his instincts were almost always right. Even so he had come close to the precipice on more than one occasion but this was an arena of his life in which I thankfully played no part, or so I imagined.
Spencer's work schedule was punishing and as a result so was mine. My hours were a nominal nine to five which translated into something more like seven to seven, six days a week... if I was lucky. Having no wife or partner my time was my own, or rather as it seems now, my employer's. My duties were wide ranging from a general requirement to ease Spencer's flow through his day, organising and tracking his schedule, booking flights and hotel rooms, dealing with his mail, conjuring well crafted business letters from the hastily scribbled notes he casually dropped on my desk through to the trivia of getting his lunch and keeping him constantly caffeinated. I was also expected to remember his long suffering wife's birthday and their anniversary not to mention dealing, as well as I could, with the sequence of distraught young ladies whom he not infrequently and casually abandoned in tears after a brief but torrid encounter. My role was a background support which I naively believed Spencer found invaluable. As someone who was happy to be out of the spotlight, the job in principal, rather suited me but left little time to develop anything that might be considered a life of my own.
One late autumn evening Spencer took me along to a cocktail party where he was probably hoping to make some deals or at least foster some valuable contacts. The party was a function that the local business moguls had organised to bring the wheelers and dealers from disparate fields together to enable a little productive cross fertilisation. I felt rather out of place among these colossi of business acumen. Being simply a quiet, awe struck observer of how these masters of the dark arts operated, was as close as I got to the action. This sort of function was where Spencer operated at his best, he required my presence to keep track of the anticipated contacts he might make and to subsequently help him put a face to a name.
"In any case Alex a party might bring you out of your shell." He said making it abundantly clear that I had no option but to accompany him. In fact, not that I would admit such a thing to Spencer, I rather liked being cocooned in my comfortable shell.
As the evening progressed under the sparkle of crystal chandeliers and lubricated by a steady flow of champagne, the initial gentle hum of voices had risen to more resemble a manic babble. I managed to withdraw into the shadows of a convenient corner and stood next to a window looking across the night sky trying to lose myself in the stars. I did not 'do' parties and when I could not avoid them, such a place was where I tended to retreat to. My back was to the throng of bodies as I sipped at my glass of Perrier water wondering how best to make myself invisible, or better still, edge unseen towards the exit.
It was her perfume I noticed first, drawing my attention back into the room. Turning away from the night sky, my eyes met those of a stunningly beautiful woman. I felt my cheeks colour as she spoke to me.
"Hi... I'm Andrea." She held out her hand and we exchanged the usual diffident politeness for someone you are unlikely to ever meet again.
"Alex." I said after clearing my throat. The woman was older than me, maybe thirty, slender and immaculately presented in a stunning evening dress. I remember her hair, curled and bouncing on her alabaster neck. In her exaggerated heels she was taller than me by a good three or four inches but what really caught my attention was her supreme and easy air of self confidence.
"I'm with Frobisher and Gwilt..." She said; I must have looked bewildered. "The corporate lawyers." she added.
"Ah yes of course... You are a corporate lawyer then?" I suggested with feigned confidence.
"Head of contract analysis." She replied as if she assumed that everyone in the room would have a working knowledge of what that was."How about you Alex?"
"I work for the Spencer Clarke Group."
"Ah yes Spencer Clarke... I do know him vaguely. We have done some work for his Group I believe... What role do you occupy in the august Spencer Clarke empire?" She spoke though half closed lids as if she were trying to construct an in depth view of my character. But maybe it was just the somnolent effects of immoderate champagne consumption.
"I'm Spencer's personal assistant." I said.
"Really, that must be quite demanding."
"It takes its toll... I'm little more than a secretary if truth be told."
"I'm sure you're being modest sweety... You don't mind me calling you sweety do you Alex." She touched my arm drawing me into an intimacy for which I was ill prepared. I managed a smile, my brain seemed frozen, unable string a coherent sentence together. I could feel her eyes continue scanning me as I searched the room for an opportunity of escape.
"Anyone special in your life Alexander?" She sipped from her glass, holding it by its delicate stem as droplets of condensation frosted the chilled crystal.
"Sadly not." I managed.
The magnificent woman took me by the arm and guided me through an automatic sliding glass door onto the balcony. I felt the chill of the night air against my flushed cheeks while my companion seemed quite immune to the sudden downshift in temperature.
"You get a wonderful view from here... so romantic, don't you think?"
Indeed I did think so. Before I could summon an answer, she spoke again:
"I've taken rather a shine to you Alex... I tell you what I'm going to do..." She swirled her glass, dipping an immaculately manicured finger into the effervescent liquid before sucking it clean, the shimmering light through the glass doors showing the pinkness of her tongue. Her eyes turned to mine holding me in a state of suspended animation. "Next Saturday I'll pick you up at seven and take you to dinner at a lovely little French restaurant I know."
It seemed not to be an invitation, more a summons. My feeble brain searched for an excuse, even though under my carapace of shyness I desperately wanted to accept her proposition.
"And if I have to work?" I said pretending a detached coolness which fooled neither of us.
"Then you can cancel... the work commitment not my invitation of course." She said, her face lighting up with an alluring smile. I'm not sure if she was kidding, I'm not sure that she knew herself. But I had the feeling that I had just been captured, a butterfly dancing across a summer meadow suddenly swept up from the wild flowers into in a soft net... I could see the jar waiting for me but the feeling, I have to admit, was far less frightening than it perhaps should have been.
Two months, well seven weeks and four days later to be exact, I moved into her rather extravagantly elegant Penthouse apartment. Andrea, I had soon discovered, was an extremely wealthy woman and her lifestyle reflected her status. She owned the top two floors of the Stanington building at Remuera with views across Auckland to Rangitoto Island. Her home had four bedrooms, a magnificently equipped kitchen, a dining room capable of easily seating ten, a separate day room and two lounges all with extravagant luxury furnishings. There was a private lap-pool, spa, gym and sauna room. If this were not sufficient, there was also a separate self-contained guest suite large enough to accommodate an entire family.
Did I mention that Andrea had a baby daughter? The baby was delightful creature who was blessed with the name of Marcella. In fact Marcella was Andrea's niece but after a tragic boating accident on the rapids of the Shotover River the baby was left without parents. Andrea who was possibly a little lacking in maternal instincts, was left with the responsibility of raising an infant. It was a duty she felt she owed to her desperately missed and beloved younger sister.
A baby might have put many men off but for me the delightful Marcella came as an unexpected additional attraction to the inevitability of being drawn into a long term relationship with Andrea. It seemed that she was presenting me with a ready made family arriving from nowhere, a gift from the gods. I counted myself lucky beyond imagining. I was Andrea's butterfly entranced and now confined blissfully to her jar. My life sullied only by my continued commitment to Spencer Clarke's arduous work regime.
At the time Andrea employed a live-in au pair on an extended working holiday from Australia. She was given free rein of the guest suite and enjoyed a good salary in return for providing full-time care for Marcella. The young woman was called Amy and I was rather surprised at the over familiarity with which she treated Andrea. She was my age, maybe a year younger, undeniably attractive but for some reason I was rather wary of her, finding her easy confidence rather intimidating. Amy was by nature a rather domineering person and I found myself uncomfortable in her presence. Even when she smiled at me the expression on her face was shadowed with an unkindness, her eyes darting and calculating. I felt that she somehow saw me as an intruder into the household. If she had a redeeming feature, it was her gentle competence in dealing with Marcella. In that respect I found her beyond reproach. But I am not necessarily a great judge of people.
My life with Andrea was perfect with a possible caveat regarding our romantic life. I was no great lover being inexperienced and awkward. I also rapidly discovered that Andrea had a dislike for what she called 'penetrative sex' and she invited me to satisfy her with my lips and tongue. This was all rather new to me but to bring Andrea to orgasm was a pleasure in itself. Even if my own needs seemed to be overlooked. Slowly over the weeks our lovemaking became centred mostly around kissing and cuddling which was fine apart from my pent up sexual tension that had little outlet. Andrea seemed slow to recognise that I might have my own romantic needs but when the truth finally dawned on her, my love life took a significant shift.
One evening I got home from work rather late. Spencer had confined me to the office until I had finished some in depth research for him on a prospective client. It was nearly ten before I dragged myself out of the lift into the haven of Andrea's apartment. I was feeling exhausted and though I would never admit it, close to tears. Andrea had been waiting for me and held out her arms as I came into the room. I had rather expected her to be angry at my lateness and was overwhelmed by her gentle kindness.
"My poor baby what has that man been doing with you?" I shrugged not wanting to go over the tedium of my day nor to reveal the fragility of my emotions. "Go and take a nice hot spa darling and relax; there's some fried chicken waiting when you're ready." She kissed me softly. "Wait, take this it will help you to relax." She poured me a glass of brandy and splashed a little soda water into it. I was not really a drinker but Andrea had been seducing me with the delights of an occasional glass of wine since I had moved in with her. The brandy felt nice as I sipped at it while soaking in the hot bubbly water. All my troubled thoughts of the hectic day melted away leaving me content and relaxed.
After my meal we shared more brandy and I was feeling very mellow as Andrea took my hand and led me to bed. The sheets were soft and inviting as I slid beneath them.
"I have something that might help you relax darling." Andrea said. From her bedside draw she took something that even I in my innocence could recognise as a dildo. Sensing my disquiet she took my hand and spoke softly.
"It's alright sweety, I'm not going to hurt you." Her words were soft and alluring as she produced a tube of lubricant. Wearing her sheer satin nightgown, Andrea slipped into bed beside me, I could feel the heat of her body through the silkiness of her nightdress as she kissed me and then leaning up on her elbow she brushed the hair from my eyes.
"I'm sure you will love this." She said as she rolled me onto my side and exposed my buttocks. Then, smearing lubricant directly into me with a warm finger, gently pressed the dildo against my opening. At first I felt very uncomfortable, the device tight against my sphincter but as Andrea slowly started her rhythmic pressure, the device was slowly worked in deeper until I could feel it massaging my prostate gently and smoothly, I began to relax and feel myself being filled deeply. I soon found myself responding to Andrea's thrusts welcoming each push drawing it deeper and deeper. I had never experienced anything remotely like this. I had not had any sexual relief for weeks now and Andrea's loving attention soon became as sublime as it was unexpected. She skilfully brought me to the point of orgasm and then slowed her rhythm to let the little pulses slow before bringing the tension back to an almost unbearably exquisite level. She did this time after time, kissing me, stroking my hair until I was desperate for the inevitable climax and cried out for her to let me come.
When I finally did there was an explosion of ecstasy and relief rippling my entire body. I gasped for air as I was suddenly drained and yet relaxed beyond anything in my experience, I could hardly speak, hardly move.
"There wasn't that nice my sweet little vixen." She said softly and seductively, "Let yourself fall to sleep now darling, I have a proposition to put to you in the morning that might make you very happy."
The words swam in my head... A proposition. What ever it might be, nothing could make me happier than I was at that precious moment. I tried to focus my thoughts on her words but already the velvet call of sleep had me deep in its embrace.
I woke early just as the eastern sky was starting to lighten. The ghosts of the stars not yet hidden by the stark light of the sun. As I blinked the sleep from my eyes I watched the brisk morning wind ripping the light clouds in agitation against the pale sky. I moved my hand feeling for Andrea's warmth in the hollow she had left. I knew she was already up, I could smell the aroma of fresh coffee and hear the clatter of porcelain. Soon she brought me a cup while I lay still in bed. She curled up beside me and I felt that I was the luckiest person in the world. And yet even in my contentment, I could not understand why she had chosen me, she could have picked anyone – but it was me she had taken into her home. Here I was, a nobody, in her luxury apartment living like a millionaire.
"Darling... I've been thinking." She said as she curled herself around the softness of my semi-slumbering body. "You know I'm not all that happy being dependant on an au pair for Marcella's care. Amy is very competent and loving with Marcella but I know she wants to travel, and if she leaves I can envision a sequence of short term carers for Marcella; it's not what my sister would have wanted."
"Mm..." I nodded as I fought against the soft pull of a few more minutes sleep.
"I think it might be better if Marcella had a full time parent..." Andrea continued "at least until she's ready for High School. Raising a child is a major commitment and I owe it to poor dear Samantha to do the best for her daughter."
I took Andrea's hand and looked into her grey eyes. I could see her sadness as she remembered her sister. Andrea was not usually an emotional woman but I saw a welling tear which she quickly brushed away as if tears were something to be ashamed of.
"I absolutely understand darling." I said, my own emotions bubbling not far from the surface. "I could not agree more... but there's no way I can afford to keep you on what Spencer pays me."
"Oh I know that darling... I was thinking..." She stroked her finger across my chest and twisted seductively at my nipple. "I was wondering if you might want to take on the role of stay at home parent."
I was suddenly wide awake and shifted myself up the bed. I had a compelling vision of never having to chase after Spencer again, to have a full life of my own doing something worthwhile like raising a child. I had never felt satisfied with of all my efforts being focussed on increasing the wealth of an already obscenely rich man.
"You would like me to be the stay at home parent?" I said pretending reluctance while, in reality, the proposition had already settled over me like a welcome comfort blanket.
"Do say you'll agree." She said. "On a purely practical level, we would hardly miss your salary... Spenser pays you far less than you are worth while my salary is almost an embarrassment. When you consider the tax implications and the fact that I pay Amy nearly as much as you bring in I can see no negative financial implications for our little love nest."
I felt suddenly ashamed that I contributed so little financially yet still lived the high life in Andrea's penthouse.
"Not being able to support you makes me feel rather inadequate." I said.
"No, don't say that Sweetheart... Would I invite someone 'inadequate' to share my life? If you accept my proposition, you will be the absolute heart of our family, the most important element, its vital essence. Look darling I've seen how much you already love Marcella, I can't imagine anyone who would be better for raising our daughter."
"Our daughter?" I said "You see it like that?"
"I do, but I'm sorry if I've assumed too much, put too big an expectation on you sweety... I just thought..."
"No no I'm delighted that you think of Marcella as our daughter, its how I think, how I dared to think."
Andrea kissed me deeply then laughing gently nibbled at my earlobe.
"So what do you say Darling? Will you tell Spencer where he can shove his job... the man has been taking advantage of you for far too long. He treats you as if you were nothing more than some infatuated office girl... I hate that. The hours he expects you to work makes you more like his slave than that of a valued employee."
"I know, I know. You're absolutely right darling, since you and I came together I've become more and more resentful of the demands he places on me... I should be with you and Marcella."
"So..."
I mused over the suggestion for what must have stretched out to encompass all of five seconds.
"So... I tell you what, if you are really sure about this then I'll do it with pleasure."
She kissed me again.
"Give him your resignation first thing this morning, then we can get on with the rest of our lives like a real family."
I thought of all the things I had to do for Spencer: the reception in Brisbane to book for, the mound of paperwork to file, the urgent application for planning permission on the Kaianui green-field development... I still had reports to write, flights to book...
"Let's do this the sooner the better, make the break... Spencer doesn't own you... not like I do." She laughed.
"You have no idea how persuasive you can be Andrea." I said.
"I'll take you to dinner to celebrate once the deed is done, then I can let Amy go. I'm fond of her in many ways." She stroked my hair and her eyes seemed to lose their focus as if she were remembering something. "I'll offer her a generous severance pay, I'm sure she'll jump at the chance to spend a few months travelling and liberating the party girl inside her all at my expense."
I couldn't reply because she had flipped me over and was suddenly making love to me again the same way she had the night before and the effects were no less earth shattering the second time.
Giving Spencer my notice was the most satisfying, most terrifying thing that I had ever done in my life. But Spencer seemed surprisingly untroubled at losing me, suggesting that he could pick up a replacement with no difficulty. Having served my notice, I wished him well and he wished me success at playing the 'little hausfrau' until Andrea grew tired of me. His parting gibe was water off a duck's back because finally I was free of him.
Amy gave me detailed instructions on how to take care of Marcella. She rather treated me as if I were a school girl starting her first job rather than her employer's partner. But I took careful note of all she told me and drew as much as I could from her experience. She kissed Andrea goodbye with more emotion that I would have expected and as I helped her to carry her bags down to the waiting taxi, she turned to me and with an unexpected display of venom:
"Don't imagine that Andrea really loves you little Alex, once she's finished playing with you, she'll cast you aside like a broken Barbie Doll." It was clear to me that she felt hard done by and probably blamed me for Andrea's decision to let her go, implying that the whole thing had been my idea.
But I was much too happy and in love to dwell on Amy and her twisted view of my relationship with Andrea. I was confident that what we had together would endure and I soon abandoned myself wholeheartedly into my new role as home-maker. I loved the extra freedom it gave me; suddenly, my time was under my own control. Although Andrea offered to employ someone to do the menial house work, I wanted to take complete responsibility for it. Liberated from formal work I still wanted to pay my way and contribute to the household. I spent my days in routine housework, taking care of Marcella and preparing evening meals for Andrea and me to share. I devoted blissful hours to learning to cook properly and doing all the routine things in which every home-maker needs to be proficient. The apartment was blessed with a large outdoor terrace where you could catch a little sun on a fine day. I spent some time making a peaceful little Japanese inspired garden with plantings in tubs and pots. I constructed a little water feature and hung the area with softly calling wind-chimes. Andrea loved what I had done and we often sat there as the days lengthened, maybe sipping wine but always with contentment as we shared the quiet stillness of the evenings.
The days passed and I grew increasingly fulfilled by the simple serenity of my new life. The intimacy I shared with Andrea had become one of mutual pleasure, giving and receiving an emotional and physical satisfaction to a degree that I had never known before. As we learned more about each other's bodies, learning how to arouse and bring each other to climax, I soon grew to lust after Andrea's bedroom skill. Slowly but inevitably I could feel the old Alex melting away, the memories of my past life came to feel as if they belonged to a different person, maybe a fond character from a novel I had once read.
Constantly taking care of Marcella and my other household duties, I had been rather neglecting my own needs and as my hair was starting to hang low over my collar, I thought it was time that I got a rather overdue haircut. I asked Andrea if she could watch Marcella for an hour one Saturday morning.
"I'm happy to do that darling, but do you really need a hair cut?... I was just thinking how nice your hair was starting to look. If you want my opinion, I'd let it grow. I think long hair, really long hair, would rather suit you. I find long hair to be quite sexy... on the right person."
"And I'm the right person?"
"Not fishing for complements are you?" She laughed.
"Maybe." I said.
"In that case, yes you are sweety." Her wide smile was hard to resist.
Getting a haircut had just been a habit for me, Spencer needed me to have a 'corporate' hairstyle when I was working for him but those days were now long gone.
"If you think long hair might look nice..." I said.
"Yes let it grow, and while we're on the subject of hair.... I spend a lot of time and effort in getting rid of my unwanted body hair. It might be nice if you joined me. We could have a little weekly waxing party together." She let her words trail away into a little, almost shy, giggle.
"Ouch! that sounds like it might be painful."
"Oh it's not a big deal baby and I'd find your body extra sexy if it was as smooth as mine. A lot of boys do it these days, its not that unusual at all – so the girls at the office tell me." I shrugged and smiled at her. I was certainly not a particularly hairy person, apart from my pubic area, arm pits and the fuzz on my cheeks, I just had a little almost invisible leg hair. None of which held any particular significance for me. Buoyed by Andrea's encouragement I thought it might even be nice to be rid of it.
"I guess it's no problem if it would make you happy darling."
"There might be extra privileges..." She said, her eyes flicking to the draw where she kept the dildo. She smiled her little seductive smile that always turned me to jelly. In fact because Andrea had been rather busy at the office over the past weeks and late getting home, I had not received any bedroom attention for some time and was easily tempted by Andrea's suggested reward.
"OK I'm convinced." I said "Let's give it a go... just to see how it feels."
"I can't wait to see how you'll look and feel..." Andrea said with a little infectious laugh as she took my hand and led me to the bedroom.
My inner confidence was starting to grow as I relaxed into my new life. Marcella was an angel, she gave me nothing but joy and I was now completely under Andrea's delicious spell. I had never loved or felt loved more than I did in those days. I found myself anticipating Andrea's return from the office and always greeted her with what must have seemed like the adoration of a tail-wagging puppy. Although I normally took care of the shopping, Andrea would occasionally pick up things she needed or possibly find a little treat for us to share. She parked her BMW next to my little Yaris and took the lift to the penthouse. The smell of my roast chicken filled the kitchen making it feel like a real home as Andrea emerged from the lift. She was carrying, as always, her laptop and briefcase but also a couple of bags of shopping.
"Mm something smells rather good, your cooking is getting to be rather too tempting." She patted her stomach. But I knew that after her daily gym workouts and all the laps she did in the pool, her trim figure was under no threat from my culinary exploits.
I was holding Marcella and Andrea walked over and kissed her tenderly.
"Hello babykins." She cooed as Marcella laughed at her aunt. Andrea then gave me my own long anticipated kiss.
"What have you got there?" I said eyeing the bags she was carrying.
"I had to meet someone at Sylvia Park Mall this afternoon. While I was browsing, I came across a pretty little Patisserie and couldn't resist indulging in a box of their petit fours... I hope you like cake." My notorious sweet tooth often provoked Andrea to gentle teasing.
"You know full well that I do... let me see."
She delved into one of the bags and carefully drew out the box that contained the most exquisite little cakes I had ever seen.
"I can see why you were tempted... these will make a great desert."
"I thought so... do you need a hand with anything?"
"No it's all under control... should be serving in half an hour."
"OK Sweety... I'll just change into something a little more comfortable and be right back." She took a couple of paces towards the bedroom. "Oh I nearly forgot I saw these really sexy tight jeans, at the 'Paris Vogue' boutique; they're in the bag, take a look." She disappeared into the bedroom. I took Marcella over to where the bags lay.
"What have we here?" I said and Marcella gurgled at me as if to say how should I know? I'm just a baby.
I found the jeans, an expensive up-market brand and extremely well cut. Paris Vogue was a fashion boutique with a growing reputation for top range women's fashion – for those fortunate enough to afford their prices. They were undoubtedly expensive but Andrea could easily afford their inflated prices. Placing Marcella on the rug I held the jeans up in front of me. With a squeeze I could probably have got into them but I knew Andrea would look so sexy in them.
"I love the jeans..." I called.
"I hoped you would... I hope I got the size right... the girl said I could change them if they were too small." She appeared at the door dressed in her floppy track pants and a delicate pink top. She crossed the soft carpet and bent down to pick up Marcella nuzzling her as she rocked her in her arms.
"You didn't try them on in the shop?" I said.
"No of course not... they're not for me... Just a little gift for all you do."
"Oh wow that's so sweet... I just assumed they were for you."
"No darling, try them on."
"As I had expected they were something of a struggle to get into but once on fitted perfectly, skin tight but surprisingly comfortable.
"The fabric's got a bit of a stretch..." I said.
"Mm some sort of a cotton Lycra blend or something."
She squatted down and sat on her heels riffling through the other bag. "Oh yes I've got this new shampoo, its supposed to lift your hair colour a couple of tones... Now I did by this for me but now that your hair is getting so long, it might benefit from a little extra pampering... Want to try it with me sweety?"
I had rather got used to Andrea washing and conditioning my hair, it always came out feeling soft and silky when she did it.
"It's not going to turn me into some kind of a blond bimbo is it?" I laughed.
"Hardly Alex... No it'll just lighten it a little... if you rather not..."
"No if you think it would look good, I'll give it a go."
We ate the roast chicken and between us demolished the delicious little cakes.
"So are you up for a little mutual hair grooming?" Andrea asked.
"Why not, give me a moment to get Marcella settled..."
So I did her hair first, following the instructions carefully and then she did mine. We towelled off and then used Andrea's hair dryer and a soft brush to finish off. I was pleased with how we both looked. My natural colour was, I think they describe it as 'mousy', a pale nondescript brown, but with the highlighting shampoo it was definitely edged closer to blond but still a long way from 'bimbo'. By now my hair was quite long, getting on for shoulder length. I wore it in a simple style letting my natural curl have free rein. When I needed it out of my eyes I would knot it up or tie it into a pony tail. I guess I was happy that Andrea had talked me into not to getting it cut. Dressed in my new jeans I felt rather like a rock star.
"One of these days I'm going to convince you to let me style your hair for you." She said. I let the comment pass with a smile that was a reflection her own.
The weeks had flown by and already we were moving into spring. I was pleased, as always, to see Andrea when she came home. She had brought a nice bottle of wine which she often did and a small exquisite box of hand made chocolates for us to share. I had started to really look forward to our Friday evenings together. With Marcella still a little too young to confidently leave in the care of a babysitter, we didn't go out very often and our Friday 'girl's night in' as Andrea teasingly called it, was becoming rather special for me.
During the afternoon I had sweated over preparing a lasagne from an online recipe that I had stumbled upon. I was eagerly anticipating Andrea's comments. Once I had got Marcella settled we ate the lasagne and I got my hoped for complement. Still buzzing from Andrea's praise we did our regular waxing together. As usual, after the waxing we shared a seductive spa together while sipping at some mouthwatering Cabernet Sauvignon. With the lights turned low and some soft music playing the scented candles gave a finish to the romantic feeling.
We had finished most of the wine by now and were relaxed, mellow, becoming a little giggly.
"OK I'm going to do my toenails now." Andrea said. "Unless you'd like to varnish them for me."
It wasn't the first time that I had varnished Andrea's toe nails and had become quite proficient at it, if I'm honest it did rather turn me on. When I'd finished she looked at me with a smile. "That's perfect darling... do you like the colour?... midnight pink, whatever that means."
"It's good... you really do have very pretty feet." I said.
"Thank you darling... so do you. I'd love to see what they'd look like with a coat of midnight pink... would you like me to do you?"
Probably it was the wine but my inhibitions were low. I shrugged.
"I'll take that as a yes..." Andrea said as she carefully unscrewed the bottle, filled the brush and started on my toes as if it was the most natural thing in the World.
"I hope you won't change your mind about this, but if you do it'll easily wipe of... there's remover on our dressing table."
"OK" I said with a little wine induced giggle. In fact when my toes were varnished my feet were transformed. I had always had rather small feet and now they looked delicate and quite pretty to my somewhat wine-fogged eyes; they definitely belonged to a girl though, not me.
We often made love on Fridays but for the last couple of weeks Andrea's hectic life had left our romantic life parked waiting for an opportunity and I had not had any relief for three weeks now. Let's say I was feeling rather horny.
"Are you ready for an early night?" I suggested.
"I thought you'd never ask..." Andrea said taking my hand and leading me to the bedroom. We slipped between the sheets kissing and fondling until Andrea started to get wet.
"Come on sweety... you do me first." She whispered.
I kissed her lips and then Andrea took my head drawing it down to her intimate area where she had need of it. I used my tongue and lips as Andrea had taught me and gently brought her to a climax. "Oh that was so good," She gasped "that was wonderful." She lay back breathing heavily. "Alex, my sweet, you get more and more intuitive about what I need each time." After a moment she took the lubricant and my pulse started to race. "Now it's your turn, be a good bunnykins and turn over for me."
She pumped lubricant deep inside me, the feeling was electric.
"There your pussy is nice and wet now." She laughed kissing my butt cheeks and then straddled my legs and slowly worked her dildo into me. She played me like an instrument until I squealed for her to let me come. "Ah... yes just there... faster...Yes...Yes please darling."
My orgasm exploded across my entire body sending shivering ripples across my torso. The ecstasy was beyond words. I turned over, still trembling and left in rapture as always.
"My God Andrea... Where ever did you learn to do this?"
Andrea laughed.
"I must be a natural... but you'd be amazed by what you can find on YouTube when you have an idle moment in the office."
Andrea kissed me softly.
"I take it you rather enjoyed that." She giggled. "There's plenty more where that came from as long as you continue to please me."
I could hardly speak, for some reason I had been feeling more emotional than usual just lately and there were tears welling in my eyes.
"Hold me darling." Andrea said. We lay together in shared bliss until we heard Marcella crying.
"I hope I didn't wake her." I said.
"Well you were rather vocal just now." She leaned across me, her lips closing against mine. Her fingers stroking my nipples as if she knew that they had recently become a little sensitive.
Marcella raised the level of her crying another notch.
"I'll go..." Andrea said.
"No no, you've been busy at work all day... I'll go. It's my job anyway."
"You're so good to me Alex." She said.
I slipped out of bed and feeling the chill air against my shoulders looked for my dressing gown. Andrea's had been carelessly cast onto the floor in our earlier haste and picking it up I slipped into its silky embrace and padded across the hall to the nursery. Marcella lifted her arms up to me as soon as she saw me. I found it almost heartbreaking, the total trust, the love she already had for me.
I lifted her from her cot and sat on the rocking chair. Humming gently with her pressed against me she soon quietened. As I rocked, her eyes closed and the light from the moon shone on her face. I could see a smile of contentment on her little face... It was one of those precious moments that stays with you forever.
"Was she hungry?"
I looked up and saw that Andrea had followed me into the nursery.
"No she just needed a cuddle."
"You're rather good at that..." She said. "You know when I stood by the door watching you, it reminded me of a painting."
"Oh..."
"Mm... With the moonlight across your silky hair and wearing my dressing gown, I thought: Madonna and child." Andrea turned her face to the window. You see that star just rising over the horizon... it looks so beautiful."
"I think it's Venus," I said. "A planet not a star."
"When you look up at it in the vastness of the dark sky, it's a star darling, surely you can appreciate the poetry, the romance..."
"Of course I can." I said. "In fact I have a secret name for it."
"Do tell."
"Well since I was a child and first noticed it in the night sky I called it Eros; it was my special star."
"Eros? that's the Greek god of love, the god of eroticism."
"I've no idea where I got the name from, to my child's mind it just seemed to fit. As you say romantic, magical. I treat it as some sort of omen of happiness; when I see it rising into the night sky I feel that all is well with the world."
"Do you ever make a wish on your special star?" Andrea asked as she knelt down and put her arms around my shoulders.
"Of course I do." I said.
"And what do you wish for?"
"I can't tell you that." I said suddenly flushing.
"I think I know you well enough to make a guess darling." She said and turning her face to me: "You are happy aren't you Alex?" I watched as with the softness of a feather she stroked Marcella's cheek and then gently kissed her forehead. "Well you didn't answer my question..."
"About being happy?"
"Mm..."
"I have never been happier Andrea, never more at peace with myself than I am now."
"I'm so pleased that you feel that way..." She stood and kissed me as delicately as she had kissed Marcella. "Don't be long sweety... I could use one of your warm cuddles myself."
If I could have spent the rest of my life reliving those few hours, I would have passed my life in a state of contented bliss. But life is not always kind, especially not for the obstinately naive.
As the weeks progressed Andrea often bought me gifts, usually clothes but sometimes something as simple as treat from the patisserie or a bunch of flowers, their perfume filling the room with the scent of serenity. One day she came home with a pair of small gold ball ear-studs for me. Which meant that I had to get my ears pierced, not something that I looked forward to but the reality was far less traumatic than I had been expecting. Once fitted the studs did look rather chic. I now had, thanks to Andrea's generosity a growing wardrobe of new clothes non of which were overtly masculine. Recently she had even started buying my underwear for me. I have no idea where she bought them but they were far removed from my usual boxer shorts – those she consigned, with a flourish, to the rubbish bin. She was sending me a message that I not only understood but was starting to embrace. Her gifts, according to Andrea, were a reflection of my new lifestyle. I could sense her wanting to soften my gender identity, getting far away from the business suits that had been my uniform when working for Spencer. Instead she nudged me into wearing things that were androgynously fashionable. How could I complain?
One day she brought home a new outfit: white jeans, tight with a fashionable distressed look. They were not something that I would have chosen myself, my fashion sense had been rather curtailed by the expectations that had been placed on me to conform while working for Spencer. But things in that area were definitely changing as I let myself be guided by Andrea's instinctive understanding of style.
Together with the jeans Andrea had splashed out on a knitted top in cable stitch with three quarter sleeves, a sleeveless suede jacket, a sort of waistcoat I told myself and some matching suede boots with a fringe down the back. When I dressed in the outfit and did a twirl for Andrea's approval, she was delighted suggesting that it would be perfect for when I took Marcella shopping. There was little in the way of pockets so Andrea had got me a shoulder bag. This was ideal as it could hold not only my wallet and so on but all the paraphernalia that I needed to tote around for Marcella.
I had spent a rather hectic day one Friday: A couple of loads of washing, vacuuming, preparing a nice dinner and then my usual weekly Supermarket shopping with Marcella. In the supermarket carpark I found myself struggling a little getting Marcella's stroller out of my little Toyota. There was a tight gap in the rear hatch to manoeuvre the stroller though and I was starting to get a little flustered, my hair blowing into my eyes, when I was rescued by a passing middle aged guy who kindly offered me his help. He seemed happy to take charge of the situation, unfolding and locking the stroller into position for me.
"There you go love." He said. "A cute baby you've got there, now you take care."
I thanked him and as I watched him walk away it suddenly registered that he had called me 'love'. He was clearly addressing me as a woman. Maybe it was my long blondish hair or the new outfit that Andrea had bought me; maybe he just need glasses. The fact is, when I thought about it, the idea of being mistaken for a woman was not the threat to my self image it might have been only a few months earlier, In fact as I let his words repeat in my head, I found the kindness of the man's comments fill me with a warm glow. I must also admit there was a wholly unexpected shiver of, what could only be described as, excitement run up my spine.
After Andrea's interventions in my lifestyle, it would not be too much of a stretch to begin to see my alter ego as a young mum. It was perhaps with these feelings dizzying my common sense, that when I bought myself an inexpensive but much needed pair of sunglasses, I made my choice, after a little hesitation, from the women's section.
The following Sunday Andrea had some work to catch up on, it was hardly an unusual state of affairs. Her life as a corporate lawyer was financially rewarding but very demanding and I longed for the rare family weekend breaks when Andrea would take me and Marcella away for a few stolen days of bliss. We might go to the Coromandel or to lake Taupo for a few days just to luxuriate in each other's company. After sharing a family lunch Andrea disappeared into her office and closed the door. It was a sign that she needed to be alone so I dressed in the outfit that Andrea had recently added to my wardrobe and took Marcella to Cornwall park. Leaving the Yaris in the car-park I meandered with her under the dappled shade of the tall trees. My new sunglasses were perched atop my blond hair as I pushed Marcella in her stroller keeping up a constant chatter of baby talk. She was still far too small for the children's play area but I strolled with her along the winding pathways. I lifted Marcella in my arms as we watched the children playing, then feeling the need of a coffee, I found the café and I bought Marcella an ice-cream laughing as she got it all over her face. Luckily I had a large box of tissues in my bag.
As I strolled away some boisterous children came chasing after a ball and bumped into my legs, their mother calling out telling the children to 'say sorry to the lady.' I waved them away with a smile. The mother calling to me. "I'm sorry about that, wait 'till yours is a little older, you have no idea what's in store for you." her voice floating across the sun-dappled grass as she gathered her offspring together to lead them away.
So now it seemed that the world saw me as a lady, I imagined there were worse things to be mistaken for and in fact I again felt that little frisson of excited anticipation as my self image took another quantum shift. That moment seemed to open a conduit leading me further down a path on which, guided by Andrea, I had so far only taken a few tentative steps. As I held Marcella in my arms, I allowed myself to envision a future where my present happiness would stretch on forever. All to soon as the sun started to sink it was time to return home. We had spent a simple but very pleasant afternoon my baby and I.
By the time we emerged from the lift, Andrea was reclining on her chair looking out across the terrace and watching the sway of the apple green foliage that I had planted in the small garden. The wind chimes were playing a gentle melody that seemed to speak to me of contentment. I felt instinctively that contentment was not a possession that could be owned, rather a quality of thought, a state of mind to be cherished.
"I could see your car as you drove back," Andrea said turning her quiet smile to me. "You looked so small and vulnerable from up here... but it gave me a thrill to know that you both belonged to me and were coming home." She held her hand out for me. "I love the sunglasses." She said and I felt the simple thrill of a complement from the one who's opinion was most important to me.
"Thanks that's so sweet of you to say so... Did you manage to finish your work?" I asked.
"Mm..." She took a lazy sip from her glass. "As much as I intend doing... Work is never done; it's so easy to get bogged down in it. The secret is in knowing when to draw the line."
"Well I know how you feel... Do you want to take Marcella?... I could use a shower."
"Of course give the little bundle to me." Andrea said lifting her arms up.
I could hear Andrea idly chatting to Marcella as I headed for the shower. When I finished I slipped on a pair of baggy track pants and a loose white T shirt and walked back in towelling my hair.
"Mind if I borrow your dryer?" I asked as I padded into the room in bare feet.
"Course not sweety, you know where it is... Maybe we should get you one of your own... you seem to be using mine more than I do these days."
"Sorry..."
"Don't be silly, you can be over sensitive at times." I smiled... me oversensitive?
Once my hair was towelled, I retrieved Andrea's dryer and came back and sat cross legged on the plush carpet fanning the warm air through my locks.
"Did you use the new conditioner?"
"Mm... its got a nice smell."
"I see you still have your varnished toe nails." She said. "You should keep them like that, they look so nice."
"Every time I do them, I get a little concerned at what might people say?" I said seeking reassurance maybe confirmation that it was OK to express my feminine side so overtly.
"No one's going to see your bare feet, in any case if it pleases you and me, should you care what anyone else thinks?"
"I suppose not..." My toes did look nice, almost as pretty as Andrea's. As my head swam I had a sudden delicious vision of my feet in a pair of open-toed shoes with a nice little heel and delicate ankle straps. I must have flushed at the thought and Andrea looked at me as if she could read my mind.
"Darling... everything about you is so feminine." She laughed as if she had only just noticed instead of being the architect of my transformation. Maybe I should have been offended by such a statement; and yet, I simply was not. There was nothing critical in her words, they were simply a statement of the facts. I had allowed myself to be emasculated by the woman I loved. All the changes in my personal appearance and behaviour were initially made to please Andrea and mostly at her instigation and I reminded her of that.
"I know Alex." there was a pause as she seemed to be choosing her words carefully, deliberately "you've been a very good girl." Her emphasis falling heavily on the last word. Andrea held my eyes in a steady gaze, waiting for me to respond to her calling me a girl. I felt it was some sort of test. Dropping my eyes from her gaze, I smiled shyly and simply said:
"Thank you."
Andrea smiled at me, a smile of affection I thought; looking back I now see that smile as one of self congratulation for having successfully and oh so easily, erased all my masculinity in just a few short months.
There was no doubt that I felt protected and cared for by Andrea, she took all the responsibility for our lives leaving me to simply look after running our home and nurturing our baby daughter. After we had eaten Andrea held her hand out to me and I took it almost submissively and allowed her to take me to bed. She made love to me, bringing me to an orgasm in the way she had trained me to accept. It was the only way that I could reach an orgasm now. When the passion had softened into warm relaxation, I curled up in Andrea's arms feeling safe and loved and soon fell into a peaceful sleep.
During our regular Friday pampering sessions, Andrea had convinced me to start wearing some, hardly noticeable, skin-tone nail varnish on my fingers saying that I had such slender and attractive fingers that it would be a travesty no to show them off to their best advantage.
"Why not grow your nails a little longer and shape them like I do?" She suggested.
She took pleasure in styling my hair into something much more feminine as she had threatened to do. I was now more comfortable in being guided by her as everything she had suggested had worked out perfectly. She bought me my own hair dryer and curling wand and one Friday she insisted that I let her pluck my eyebrows but after a half hearted hesitation the result was fine. In fact I could hardly see much difference just a little clearer definition of the femininity that I was now accepting.
"You really need eye makeup." Andrea said and I knew she was right; it was bound to be just another step on my inevitable path.
Andrea was starting to become quite demanding that I keep up appearances and would point out if I let my appearance slip. I knew that she wanted me to look more and more feminine and I found it easy and rewarding to comply. My interest in the makeup counter at the local department store, drew me to imagine with excitement what I might want to buy but for the moment my shyness held me back from approaching the sales woman. Even so I took a greater effort in making myself attractive for Andrea when she came home. Our welcome home kisses were something I looked forward to each day.
One day I had an accident with Marcella's blackcurrant juice, dropping a bottle across the toe of one of my suede boots. I scrubbed at the stain but it would not come out. I must have looked distraught when Andrea came home.
"What is it sweety?" She asked. Feeling foolish I explained what had happened but rather than being cross that I had ruined her gift she simply laughed. "It's nothing to get upset about Alex... Actually I have had my eye on a pair of rather tempting boots that might just look fantastic with your white jeans..."
"I feel really spoiled, I can't expect you to keep on buying me all these lovely things."
"You know I love giving you treats sweetie... These boots... I'd love to get them for you but I'm not sure if you are quite ready for them yet."
"Why?"
"Well they are quite sexy and they do have a bit of a heel."
I was quite intrigued by Andrea's proposed gift, her continued push to feminise me seemed to be without end. I pretended restraint but was inwardly excited. Under Andrea's watchful eye I had become much more aware of fashion and style than I used to be and was more than tempted to allow her to treat me.
"You think I would look good in them?"
"Oh yes I think you'd look divine in them Alex... I'm really enjoying dressing you in nice things... say you'll accept them."
"If you think they would be OK for me then how can I refuse? Thank you so much... I feel so pampered."
"I'll pick them up tomorrow... unless you'd like to come to the boutique with me."
"No let's keep them a surprise, I can hardly wait."
I leaned up towards Andrea's lips and we finally shared our much anticipated welcome home kiss. That night Andrea made wonderful love to me and I felt completely forgiven for ruining my suede boots and even allowed myself a little thrill of anticipation for the special replacements that Andrea had promised me.
When I lifted the boots from their packaging under Andrea's watchful gaze, I gasped. The boots although they complied with Andrea's description were not really what I had been expecting. My suede boots, to my eye at least, had been of a unisex styling; the replacements definitely were not. Shiny black leather, soft and tight when zipped on the leg, they looked stunning. I could see why Andrea had been attracted to them... the problem was the heel. I had expected something similar to the suede boots maybe just a little higher, what I was presented with was a pair of undoubtedly women's boots with a four inch stiletto heel. I had become comfortable being seen in my androgynous outfits but these boot were completely beyond that, only a woman would ever contemplate wearing anything like them. These gorgeous boots were a gift given in love by the woman I adored and just their look sent a shiver of excitement through me. Despite my initial reserve, the boots looked so sexy that I was desperate to try them on.
"Wear them with your white jeans." Andrea said. "I can't wait to see you in them."
I rushed off to the bedroom clutching my gift and dressed as Andrea had suggested. As I slid into the boots I felt all my concerns disappear to be replaced by an exquisite thrill. The boots were a perfect fit and as I stood I felt a little wobbly on the spiky heel but the moment quickly passed and I found it surprisingly easy to walk in them. In the mirror they looked stunning. I looked stunning. There was little left of the ungainly boy who used to work for Spencer. I did a twirl managing not to stumble on the heels. The surprising thing was that they felt so comfortable as if I had been born waiting for these boots to complete me. There was also an undeniable frisson of eroticism at seeing myself finally as totally and unmistakeably feminine. Dressed like this I would now have been surprised if any stranger, who might stop to help me with Marcella's stroller, would have 'mistaken' me for a man.
"Do another twirl for me sweetie." I turned to see Andrea's smile which was as broad as my own.
"Bellisima, totally bellisima." Andrea said. She was holding Marcella who was comfortably cushioned in her arms and looking at me wide eyed. I did the twirl as requested. "Oh God so sexy darling... you are definitely getting special treatment in bed tonight.
"I giggled, you think I look OK in them?..." I said seeking a final reassurance.
"You look absolutely gorgeous darling."
"But they really make me look like a woman... there is no room left for any doubt now."
"I know. Is that a problem for you sweetie? It certainly isn't for me." She came close to me and brought her lips to mine. "Kiss me." She said and I melted into her arms, the three of us in an embrace of pure love. "In any case," Andrea said after the kiss was over, "You have not looked anything like a boy for a long time now, this is just another gentle press against some imagined boundary... Say that you will wear them Alex, it will please me so much."
"Of course I will, I love them Andrea, thank you so much... I just don't want to look foolish."
"You could never look foolish darling... a stunning and sexy girl maybe."
I giggled with a little self conscious embarrassment and held out my arms for Marcella.
"You think Mummy looks good in her new boots don't you darling?" Andrea said.
Marcella laughed and held her arms out to me — clearly Marcella did like her mummy's new look.
"I think maybe what you always wanted was a wife." I said with a soft smile. Andrea turned her face to me, her eyes caught mine and held me in a gaze from which I could not turn away.
"Darling, I think you have already become my wife, don't you?" She spoke as if it were merely a statement of fact. It was probably true but the cold hard facts suddenly sparked a delicate thread thread of anger that seemed to come from nowhere. I didn't really know how to respond but blurted out the first words that came into my silly blond head.
"You've been systematically turning me into a girl since we met..." There was a long moment of silence. During which I thought of all the feminising touches that Andrea had instigated. But there was more, I had felt for a while now that I was starting to show some actual physical changes. My skin was becoming softer as if there was a little more fat underneath, I was certainly far more emotional than I used to be and I had detected a subtle swelling and tenderness around my nipples as if I were starting to develop breasts.
"Alex darling... You have been completely complicit in everything that we've done. I saw that side of you, the first moment we met. I've just been liberating the person that I know and love. Is that such a bad thing to do? Would it be so bad if we went further in letting you blossom as a woman? Marcella needs a female role model in her day-to-day life, a full time mother... With my career I see her for such a tragically short time. Would it kill you to be more like a proper mother for her, maybe even wear a skirt now and again? A little makeup?"
"You want that?" I said as I was finally forced to confront the totality of changes that had been so gradually imposed.
"Ask yourself Alex if you would be happier living fully as a woman... and if you can't find an answer just look at your lovely long blond hair and those gorgeous pink toes of yours. You could have rejected them any time. Look at the way you accepted the feminine clothes, the perfume you love dabbing behind your ear and now your love of these sexy stiletto boots. Darling you chose to grab all of this, I never forced you."
I could now feel the strange prick of tears behind my eyes.
"And so now we have the waterworks..." She said softly as she stroked the tears away and held me tightly. "Don't cry sweety but honestly... what more proof do you need that there is no trace of a man left in you?"
"I know, I know... And the other changes?" I said. Andrea fell silent, her eyes cast to the floor. "The tenderness in my breasts... among other things." I pressed.
"I'm sorry sweetheart but I did it for your own good."
"What did you do?"
"You know I made you take vitamins..." She said.
"From when I first moved in... let me guess Andrea, they were not just vitamins were they?"
"No." She said. "I know it was unforgivable to feed you hormones without discussing it with you first."
I stood, my head spinning. "Yes it was." I said. "I loved you and trusted you with all my being Andrea."
She called after me as I walked away my new heels clicking on the marble floor. I found myself in my car driving into town. I parked and walked the streets until it was nearly dark. Finally I went into a club; it was still quiet, the evening rush still an hour away. I walked up to the bar and pulled my wallet from my shoulder bag and shook my hair from my face.
"Yes Miss, what can I get you?" The barman was young, probably not even my age.
"I'll have a brandy and soda." I said using my soft feminine voice. The barman looked at me and smiled. It was definitely more than just a smile. There was something of a what are you doing later? question hovering somewhere in that innocent little expression. I gulped down my drink and left feeling even more confused than ever as I wound my way back home.
I slept in the guest suite, without speaking to Andrea again that night. But I went to Marcella when I head her crying and gave her a bottle as she cuddled up to me. When I got back into my bed, I felt so alone. All I could think about was Andrea. I needed to convince myself that what she had done came from a place of love and by morning I was ready for a reconciliation. In truth, sleeping alone had been nothing more than a feeble sulking gesture, a last kick against the inevitable as I said goodbye to the last hauntings of my manhood.
I longed for Andrea's arms while I stared into the early morning bleakness. I lay with eyes open until I could hardly remember what had angered me. As the first traces of dawn filtered into my room, I knew that I loved my life now, I loved Marcella and I still loved Andrea despite what she had done. By six I was up and after peeking in at Marcella, I stood for a while looking round the room where we had quarrelled, the cushions that still bore the imprint of our heads, the unwashed wine glass that still held a trace of Andrea's lipstick, the copy of 'Vogue' left open on the coffee table where I had dropped it, an article half read. I simply could not lose all this, not now.
I took coffee and rolls into Andrea's room.
"I'm sorry... " I said in a soft voice, little more than a whisper as I lay the little silver tray on the bed... on our bed.
"Forgiveness is divine..." Andrea said. "Shall we both be divine?"
"Yes yes. Will you forgive my overreaction?" I said.
"Of course I will..." She took a bite of her roll and sipped at her coffee.
"So where to from here?" I asked.
"That's up to you Alex, we can carry on as we have been or you can finally take the responsibility and embrace becoming the beautiful woman you were born to be." She let the coffee linger on her tongue. "This is so good," she said "you're a marvel in the kitchen these days."
I smiled shyly without replying, drawing as much comfort as I could from the kindness I found in her words. "Look sweety, none of the changes you have experienced so far are anything other than trivial. I'm so sorry about the hormones but they have not really kicked in yet."
I felt that her words had been rehearsed during the long hours of the night when she slept alone. I remembered the young barman's flirting smile and wondered how true Andrea's words could be. The world saw me as a woman now – not a man dressed in feminine clothing, not even an androgynous boy; I could no longer lay any serious claim to being male.
"Retuning yourself to that gauche boy I met at the cocktail party would take a trip to the barber and two minutes with nail polish remover." Andrea added. "But the path I think you'd like to take is another step. I'll willingly, and lovingly, help you if you want but you will have to come to me and ask. I see now that it was a mistake to pressure you into this, you have shown me that it has to be totally your decision from now on."
I nodded and took her hand, she did not pull away but neither did she lock fingers with me as we usually did. The tears pricked again as I felt the chill shadow of rejection. I turned my head towards the door. "I have to see to Marcella..." I said and ran from the room.
"As I cuddled the infant in my arms I caught sight of myself in the mirror... It was not a man that I saw. Andrea was not right, not right at all. Returning to the man she had met at the party would be impossible now, not after the emotional awakening that I had undergone. That awakening could never be undone. I knew that I had no real option if I wanted to keep this life, I would have to ask for Andrea's help, beg her if necessary. As I finally accepted that I was no longer a man in any sense that mattered, a deep quake of awakening rippled through me.
Andrea managed to leave for the office without seeing me again... It was the first time she had left without giving me a farewell kiss. I fed and changed Marcella, she had been a little grizzly since waking as if she could sense that the atmosphere was tense so I took her out to the terrace garden and read her a story, not that she was old enough to understand, but my soft voice soon lulled her to sleep. I lay her in her little cot and picked up my phone. There was only one person I needed to talk to but Andrea was in a meeting. I left a message that she might call me back as soon as she was free and went in search of coffee and the illicit stash of chocolate chip muffins that I had baked the day before.
It was an hour before I was startled from my reverie by the ringtone of my phone. I snatched it up...
"Hello Andrea?"
"Hi... What's up?"
"You left without saying goodbye..." I said, it sounded like an overemotional accusation, not what I had intended.
"Don't get upset again sweety, I thought you needed some time to think things over."
"Is that all... we're still OK aren't we?" Even as I spoke, the words tumbling from my lips sounded pitiful.
"Of course... Look darling I really have to be somewhere... get yourself a glass of wine and relax, I'll try and get home early... I'll bring home a take-away so put your feet up... OK?"
"OK." I said, wiping my nose on an already damp tissue.
"We'll talk when I get home."
"OK... Love you." I said.
Andrea was true to her word; she arrived home an hour before her usual time laden with restaurant quality Chinese food. We ate straight away and between mouthfuls opened up the conversation.
"I've thought over what you said Andrea... I simply couldn't bear to lose you and Marcella, not now..."
"I sense a 'but' darling?"
"No there's no but... It's just that it's been a hard thing to come to terms with..."
"Accepting that you are now a girl?"
"Admitting it to myself, yes. I guess deep down, my subconscious always knew. I was constantly being barraged with messages but stubbornly ignored them. It wasn't until you started to send me the same messages that the truth began to dawn. But even then I assumed there was nothing I could do about those feelings. I always loved women, loved looking at photos of models... I thought it was what all guys liked..."
"Go on..."
"Looking back I think... I know now that I wasn't looking at the models for desire of them but to imagine myself, if just for an instant..." My eyes flooded with tears and Andrea caught my hands.
"You wanted to be one of them more than you wanted to fuck them."
I laughed at the crudeness of her words. "I might not have chosen those words," I said "but yes, it seems so obvious to me now, but at the time it did not quite register. I've never been the slightest bit macho... you saw that but you also showed me in your subtle way the path I had to take."
"So you want to become fully a woman?"
I nodded and looked up into Andrea's smile.
"I am already a woman and I will do anything if it means I will be able to stay with you and Marcella."
"You know what I told you Alex... You're going to have to ask me if you want my help."
"I know... Andrea, Please help me, I would love to become more of a mother for Marcella and a wife for you... Please will you help me to make the changes."
Andrea leaned across and kissed me, she pulled me against her breast and stroked my hair.
"Of course I will darling... This will be so much fun... there's so much for you to explore."
"I feel that too... but I also feel terrified, I have no idea what it entails."
"The first stage will be getting you to live fully as a woman... Despite what you might think, you are mostly there already."
I raised my eyebrows, desperately wanting to believe Andrea's words.
"It's true darling, emotionally you have been a girl for a long time... probably for always. Fully dressing you as a woman will just be the icing on the cake... You'll need a new wardrobe, forget the androgynous look. You deserve some lovely truly feminine clothes. It will be great fun for us to do together. We'll get you used to all the little feminine things that we girls do and wear. Then after a few months or so, after your birthday say, you can decide how far you want to take it."
"I understand it might be an expensive proposition."
"I have plenty of money Alex, that should be the least of your concerns. If you are still committed, I'll make an appointment for you with Helen. She's my doctor... actually I have broached the subject with her... in very vague terms – no names involved, and she's happy to help. Apparently she's already guided several boys through their successful transitions."
"She gave you the hormones?" I asked.
"Don't ask about that darling. I took advice from Helen on what someone like you might need but it would be against medical ethics for Helen to prescribe without seeing you. Let's just say I managed to find a source."
"OK"
"We need to start really pumping up the changes to your hormonal balance, we should soon see a real difference."
"Just more pills then at first?" I said.
"Maybe injections... Helen will tell you more when she sees you."
"OK... If I have you to hold my hand through this I'm sure I'll cope."
It was still early but I felt a desperate need to draw a veil over our troubled few hours.
"Take me to bed... Will you?" I said.
She held her hand out to me, taking me to our bed she made love to me with me feeling, for the first time, like a wife.
My life carried on rather blissfully through the following seasons of that eventful year. I embraced the changes that were overtaking my body. Helen had become my doctor too by now; she was so kind and supportive that I grew to think of her as a friend. She encouraged me in my journey and constantly monitored and optimised my hormonal treatment. Andrea paid for me to have laser hair removal on my face. To be honest I had never had much more than a little adolescent down and the facial hair that I once had was soon nothing but a memory. My voice had softened almost without any effort on my part and I became confident and adept with makeup and took to wearing stronger colours on my now femininely long finger nails; something which Andrea seemed to adore. Sometimes she would kiss me without warning, catching me unaware and flustered. There were no shadows between us any more it was a quiet still happiness. I now no longer felt the need to straddle the gender divide, it was time to accept who I was. Over the months the few people that I encountered in my daily life had, I finally realised, always assumed that I was a girl. I now saw no reason to disabuse them of their opinion. I was happy to be thought of as female, my male ego had long since shrivelled to nothing but a distant memory.
I started to buy pretty underwear, by now I had a real need of support for my swelling but still juvenile breasts. There was a definite cleavage to show off when I wore my low cut blouses. My face had seemed to soften so that when I stared at my reflection I could see that I was becoming pretty and my broadening hips were giving me a more feminine shape. As I started to wear skirts and dresses, the need to tuck my unwanted parts away became suddenly rather important. Andrea advised me to take advice from the internet on the issue as it was one of the few things that she had no experience of. It soon became second nature to me but I looked eagerly to the time when I might be free of those bits and pieces once and for all.
I started to revel in my ability to arouse Andrea, dressed in a tight skirt with stockings and stilettos, with my face made up like a model, she seemed to lose all control and would drag me off to bed as soon as she could with me giggling like a wanton temptress. She seemed infatuated with my growing breasts and used her tongue on my nipples to skilfully arouse me before turning my poor body into a trembling orgasmic jelly.
After one such event we lay side by side and Andrea took my hand. "I'm sorry I gave you the hormones without telling you darling." I could see the glaze of tears in her eyes.
"Don't feel sorry, it would not have taken much for you to convince me. I think if I'm honest I had already guessed what you were doing but chose to rationalize the changes I was feeling in ways that made no real sense... Andrea I love what you have done to me." I held her and kissed her lips feeling her warm tears against my naked skin.
It was a year since I had met Andrea. The season had turned to winter again. It had certainly been a turbulent year but I regretted nothing of the past months.
One evening Andrea came home tired from a long day at the office. I poured her a glass of wine and sat on the floor next to her, my head on her lap.
"It's a dreadful bore." She said as she stroked my hair that now hung almost half way down my back. "But it seems I have to attend a symposium in Queenstown for a few days next week."
I knew Queenstown. It was a popular tourist centre, the winter sports Mecca of New Zealand and a place sought after for holding symposia and for well heeled businessmen to entertain valued clients.
"Spencer has some property in Queenstown." I said.
"Oh really?"
"Mm, a sort of second home. He used to take his most valued clients there for weekend breaks and dragged me along when he needed..." I paused for an instant searching for the appropriate word.
"A hand maid?" Andrea suggested. I laughed but looking back that's exactly how it felt.
"Queenstown is such a beautiful place but I was given no time to explore it. Never even managed to get down to see the lake up close."
"I don't suppose you'd like to come with me would you?" Andrea suggested, suddenly brightening at the prospect. "I know it's your birthday next week and I'd be so sorry to miss it... but if you came with me, I could extend the trip a couple of days and we could make a celebration of it."
"Is Spencer likely to be there?" I asked nervously.
"It's the sort of function he might want to be seen at." Andrea said. "But it won't be a problem: You won't be attending the symposium and even if you did bump into him, there's no way he would recognise you now."
"I suppose not... It could be embarrassing if he did recognise me."
"Trust me sweety, that would never happen; you have changed so much that even I can hardly remember how you used to look."
"Well the thought of a trip away together sounds fantastic but what about Marcella?"
"Ah, well... She could come too or... Actually I bumped into Amy the other day. I don't think she's doing anything at the moment; maybe she could move in for a week to take care of babykins."
The mention of Amy settled over me like a dark cloud. She had never seemed to like me for some reason and I had felt uncomfortable around her. She was also one of the few people who knew me before the changes that had transformed me. I could imagine the veiled insults she might throw at me because of my ongoing transition.
"Now I think about it," Andrea continued "That's what I'll do. You could use a break from your domestic routine, even if it's just a week without dealing with the demands of an infant. I'm sure Amy will do it. I'll call her now."
Before I could mount a counter argument Andrea was already making the call. I slipped from the room not wanting to hear the conversation and started to boil water for some tea. Andrea soon found me struggling with the lid of the biscuit tin taking care not to break a nail.
"There it's all arranged..." She said. "Amy will arrive in two days and I'll book a flight for you and me for the following day. I'm going to be busy for the first part of the week, for some reason they want me to give a lecture, but after that's done we can spend the rest of the time together. I'll organise a hire car from the airport for you to do some sight seeing while I'm busy and then on your birthday I'll take you out for an expensive dinner."
"It sounds wonderful." I said, my disquiet at the prospect of seeing Amy again softening.
The next day I took Marcella with me while I had my hair styled and coloured to a gorgeous strawberry blond shade. Then I had my nails done before going wild with Andrea's credit card and shopping for something suitable for a week in Queenstown. I bought a lovely silky green evening dress with matching shoes, an elegant shoulder wrap and a wickedly expensive evening bag. For the rest of the week I bought some warm day-wear clothing, a nicely fashionable padded jacket with a woolly bobble hat, gloves and a lovely soft cashmere scarf.
When I got back home Andrea was there, she had returned early, she told me, to work on her lecture. As she greeted me she looked a little flushed.
"Hi darling, your hair looks stunning. I told you that you were crying out to be a full blond, that hint of pink looks divine."
I twirled to show the bounce and curl in my newly styled hair.
"Thank you I'm so happy that you like it... I've rather given your credit card a spanking I'm afraid."
"Don't think about it." Andrea said. "Oh by the way Amy has arrived a day early. I've installed her in the guest suite as usual."
"This is just for the week?" I said as I caught a glimpse of the grey cloud again.
"Oh yes I'm sure she has better things to do with her life."
I sat Marcella in her high chair and gave her a slice of sweet apple to gnaw on before making my way towards the bedroom with my bags of shopping. "Come and see what I've got, I hope you'll approve." I called but Andrea had beaten me to the bedroom and was straightening the bed covers. I could have sworn that I'd made the bed before leaving, but hey I was a full blown blond bimbo now, a little forgetfulness was to be expected.
I showed Andrea what I had bought and she was full of complements on my selection. We walked back together from the bedroom and I was confronted by the sight of Amy holding Marcella kissing her cheeks. I felt suddenly possessive for my little girl, not wanting Amy to think she could suddenly take her from me as if nothing had changed. Marcella seemed uncomfortable in Amy's arms; I had the feeling that she no longer recognised her and when she saw me she held her arms out to me with a little whimper.
I took her from Amy who smiled at me.
"Well haven't you made stunning progress." She said. She kissed my cheek in what seemed to be true affection. "You are breathtakingly beautiful and it's clear that I was wrong about you Alex, will you forgive me?"
"Of course." I said "I like to be called Alexandra these days."
"I'm sorry, Alexandra it is." She looked at Andrea and there seemed to be something pass between them that I didn't quite catch, a twist of Andrea's head, the hint of a scowl.
"Right," Amy said. "I've done my unpacking so I'll leave you two alone, I promised to meet up with some Aussie mates for drinks so I'd better be on my way."
Andrea walked her to the lift and I heard the sound of a brief and indistinct conversation pass between them. When she came back she was smiling and took my hands.
"Darling... there's something I'd like to give you, an early birthday gift. Wait here." She went into the bedroom and returned with a small leather covered case. "These used to my grandmother's... I'd like to give them to you. She opened the case and withdrew a string of pearls. They caught the light and shone deeply lustrous reflecting the light in shimmering white and pink and blue. I could see how delicate and perfectly matched they were. There were also two matching drop earrings which completed the set to absolute perfection.
"Oh Andrea, they are magnificent, but I couldn't accept them, they must be worth a fortune."
"Come hear." She said "Be a good girl and accept my gift given with love." I did what she asked and Andrea placed the pearl necklace round my slender neck. "Listen to me Alexandra, whatever happens in the future I want you to know that there is no one, absolutely no one who I would rather have these pearls."
There were tears in her eyes that precipitated the same in mine. I felt that something momentous had just happened but did not know what it was.
"Thank you so much." I said and we clung to each other for so long that in the end I had to break away to run in search of a box of tissues.
Saying goodbye to Marcella nearly tore the heart from my chest but it was only for a week. Just a short week I told myself.
"Look after her." I said to Amy in a voice that was more like a plea than an instruction from the mistress of the house.
"She'll be fine.. now off you two go and give Queenstown a thrashing."
We were soon on our way to the airport. Andrea driving her BMW with a fluid skill that made my own efforts behind the wheel seem amateur. Andrea paid for the most premium seats and were treated like royalty on the flight. On landing we collected the sporty little hire car, and Andrea drove us to our hotel. The air was crisp, almost exotic and heady as if we had flown to a different country. We were shown to our room and I folded myself into Andrea's arms.
"Make love to me." I whispered.
"I will," Andrea said "But I'm a little tense at the moment with the looming lecture I have to give. Can we put that on hold until the night of your birthday and make it a day to remember?"
It had been a while since we had made love and my desire was growing stronger as each day passed but I smiled and, like a good girl, made do with a kiss. The next morning Andrea was up and ready early. I could detect a little nervousness in her which I had rarely seen from her before but she had to speak in front of a large audience which was something that I could not, even in my wildest dreams, imagine doing.
"You'll be fine." I said.
"Thank you sweety." Her words were accompanied by a rather fragile smile. "Now you'll be OK on your own all day?"
"Yes, I plan on exploring the places I've missed out on before. I'll be absolutely fine."
"OK well I must rush, I'll see you this evening." I blew her a kiss from the bed as she slipped through the door.
After a pleasant light breakfast, I made my way to the hire car. It was a two seater convertible. Being used to an automatic, I struggled a little with the gears at first and cursed myself for not wearing flat shoes but soon got used to the car. I made my way cautiously along the unfamiliar roads under a sky so fiercely blue that it seemed to magnify the intensity of the landscape. The air falling from the Southern Alps was as cold as ice but I wore my bobble hat to keep my hair under control and with the top down and the heater on full blast it was a glorious drive. I went down to Lake Wakatipu and took photographs with Andrea's camera. The camera was fitted with a telephoto lens which I struggled with until I discovered how to operate the zoom mechanism. I then drove south, following the lake edge to Kingston at the southern tip of the lake where I took more photos and had a lovely lunch at the local cafe bar. I casually used the ladies room, without the slightest feeling of self-consciousness, touching up my lipstick in the mirror as if it were second nature to me. As I left, in a moment of capriciousness, I cast a slightly flirty smile to the rather ruggedly handsome owner. I could feel his eyes following me as I walked towards the car and as I turned for one last look, my instinct was proved correct. He had moved closer to the window to watch me but as my eyes lifted to him, he turned away suddenly self conscious moving to clear a table.
Slowly I was starting to believe what Andrea and Amy had told me, that I really was beautiful. I had never thought of myself as a flirt but I was suddenly, and quite wickedly, frolicking in the effect I was having on the men I encountered.
As I started back towards Queenstown, it occurred to me that Spencer's property was not far away from our hotel and I made a deliciously impish plan for the next day. I would drive out to where the road overlooked the spreading stone buildings of Spencer's Queenstown domain and spend a little time spying on the Estate that I used to know so well – once upon a different time. There was no malice in my intention more curiosity and a feeling that if I could look on his property from a distance like a stranger, then my remove from Spencer would be confirmed and I really could put those days behind me.
I was back at the hotel by five after a thoroughly enchanting day I waited in the bar, sipping at a glass of wine, for Andrea to return. It may have been my imagination but I seemed to receive quite a lot of admiring glances from the passing gentlemen though no one spoke to me which was rather a relief. When she finally arrived Andrea was clearly tired, her lecture had by all accounts been a success. I was grateful that she didn't trouble me with the details; I had no wish to further confirm my ignorance of Andrea's area of legal expertise. I could see she was emotionally exhausted and I did my best to help her relax. We had our dinner in our room and dozed in front of the television until it was time for bed. There was no love making but I was storing up my explosive passion for my birthday night.
The next day I relaxed until lunch, sleeping late and taking a long spa. The afternoon was already planned and I drove out towards Spencer's estate under another brilliant blue sky and parked on the hill overlooking his valley retreat. Despite the fineness of the day the air was again glacial and I was glad of my new thermal lined jacket as I left the warmth of the car and stood by a rickety lichen-covered fence. The Estate buildings were further away than I had imagined and blended into the tussocky landscape becoming almost invisible. The view was something of an anticlimax until I remembered Andrea's camera and collected it from the car. I zoomed in for a better view and discovered that little had changed since I was last there two years ago. I saw the Estate Manager walk out to the Range Rover and drive out across the rough track up towards the main road. I seem to remember he was called McGregor, an avuncular sort of man that I had a fondness for. Nestled in the gravel parking space between the two main buildings, I saw Spencer's Porsche. A teenaged boy, unknown to me, was soaping its silver paintwork. The tinted window glass catching the afternoon sun with a brilliant flash as I scanned across the scene.
Spencer had an identical car back in Auckland. He was never a man to do things by halves. There was no sign of the man himself but if he were in Queenstown, he would probably be attending the symposium. After all this time there was still something mesmerising about him; his effortless mastery of his universe and his sheer animal magnetism were hard to forget. But in the end my little dabble at spying seemed pointless, almost shameful. There was little more to see and with a self deprecating smile I got back into the car and quietly drove away. I felt confident that Spencer no longer had any power over me and the following day I would turn twenty three and there was a celebration to look forward to.
On my birthday Andrea presented me with a huge bunch of camelias and a gorgeous and wickedly expensive bottle of Annick Goutal perfume. We spent the day walking and shopping in Queenstown and then took a delightful trip on the lake in the Earnslaw Steamship. As the evening of my birthday arrived I dressed in my new gown, Andrea securing the clasp of my gifted pearls.
"They look so beautiful on you." She said stroking my cheek. I slipped the matching ear rings in place of my usual gold studs and felt the swing of their weight as almost erotic. I quickly dabbed on a splash of my Annick Goutal and grabbing my evening bag was led out to the hire car. The restaurant that Andrea had booked was in the exclusive Trudon hotel, less than 15 minutes away and she drove us there in her usual confident style.
Off I went, feeling perfectly adorable. Not even Trudon’s marble entrance hall could intimidate me. On being greeted by the staff, who seemed to know Andrea, we were seated in our own secluded alcove. Once all the waiters were finished fluttering about us, I allowed myself to fall once more under Andrea's spell. The way she dealt with all this extravagant attention, which would have overwhelmed me if I were alone, was another insight into her self confidence. She had that seductive way of simply believing her opinion to be the truth and yet somehow without showing any real arrogance.
The waiters brought us a wonderful meal, layered in multiple courses. Each one seeming to anticipate the next. I drank the lion's share of our wine as Andrea was driving and by the time that we had made our selections from the dessert menu, I was feeling blissfully content but my head was definitely swimming from the drink. Well, it was my birthday, I think little overindulgence can be excused once in a while. I sat gazing into Andrea's eyes thinking about what we would do in bed when we got back to our room. I was allowing myself to feel very aroused at the prospect when a shadow moved into my peripheral vision. I turned my eyes and saw a terrifyingly attractive man, tall, powerfully built and oozing personal confidence. I recognised him instantly. What I did not recognise was the powerful lurch of physical attraction I involuntarily felt towards him.
"Oh hello Andrea... Didn't know you frequented this place." He said; his voice deeply resonant and suddenly spine-chillingly attractive.
"Spencer, what a surprise." Andrea held out her hand to him and they greeted with a kiss of cheeks.
"And who's this absolutely stunning young woman?" Spencer said turning his eyes to me. He seemed to study me long and hard, I felt sure he could see though my feminised persona straight to the gangling insecure boy that I used to be. I felt a flush run up my neck to my cheeks.
"This is Alexandra." Andrea said. "We are out celebrating her birthday." Spencer took my hand and kissed my fingers. It was enough to send a shiver down my spine but I was drawn back to reality by the shrill ring tone of Andrea's phone. I immediately thought of Marcella with a slight feeling of panic.
"What is it?" I asked anxiously. "Not Marcella."
"No, no. It's alright darling... just the office back in Auckland. There's some emergency..." She spoke a little more to whomever had called and I felt with sinking heart that our evening was about to be curtailed. Finally Andrea ended the call.
"I'm so sorry darling but this is rather urgent. I need my laptop and It's back at the hotel." I had already picked up enough of the phone conversation to realise that my chance of having sex any time soon had just evaporated. I probably made some kind of an infantile whimper and Andrea took my hand. "Do you want to come back with me now or I'll leave the car for you and I'll take a taxi back to the Hotel?"
"I'll come back with you." I said. "It's not your fault... I was just so looking forward to... you know later."
"Me too sweety... I'll try not to be too long but there's no telling, this could take half the night to sort out."
I had heard similar words before and they gave me no comfort. By the time Andrea got finished sorting out the emergency I would almost certainly be lost to sleep.
"Oh we can't have that." Spencer said. "I'll take care of the divine Alexandra for the evening and see that she gets back to your hotel safely."
I could feel the panic rising, of all the people in the world that I did not wish to expose my transformation to, Spencer was number one on the list. At the same time, I found his powerful masculinity to be overwhelmingly alluring; a feeling that was completely new to me, compelling and yet as dangerous as a swelling tsunami. Before I could speak Andrea accepted the offer on my behalf:
"Oh Spencer my darling that would be so kind of you, I was hating the prospect of spoiling Alexandra's birthday."
"So, there's no problem then, just leave her in my hands. I'd love to take care of her..." He turned his smile to me. "If that's alright with you Alexandra."
What could I do? I could not seem ungrateful in the face of such kindness, it was also clearly what Andrea wanted; I felt that accepting Spencer's offer was a kindness to her, lifting the guilt of spoiling my birthday from her shoulders.
"I would like that." I said smiling sweetly. Somehow, liberated by my recent transformation, I had become aware of men in a very different way and Spencer, although a terrible boss, was now having an effect on me that was completely outside anything I had experienced before. He was the sort of man whom any girl might die for, and suddenly after all my years of contempt for the young women who threw themselves at him, I suddenly understood how they must have felt. I clung onto the hope that he would never associate the attractive young woman, who's hand he had just kissed, with my former incarnation as Alex his personal assistant.
In any case, despite my unexpected and rather disturbing physical attraction to the man, nothing was going to happen between us. I was in love with Andrea, and a devoted mother to Marcella. I took, rather naively, his invitation to me as a gesture of kindness, with no strings attached... It seems that I had wilfully forgotten the true nature of this man with his insatiable lust for women and the effect it might have on me now that there was a different set of hormones coursing through my body.
Feeling that all this was unreal, that I was watching a movie unroll before my eyes, I watched Andrea leave the dining room. She had left the car keys for me and turned briefly by the exit to wave a farewell. There was a half smile on her face but also another look... a confused mixture of sadness, regret and something more that I could not quite name. Her look did not fill me with confidence. I had a sudden urge to run after her and hold her in my arms but Spencer turned his searing gaze to me and I felt suddenly weak, with an unwanted passion rising in me that I found myself struggling against.
"I've got a suite here that I use for entertaining guests." He said.
I already knew that from a past life that seemed so remote now that the memory might have come from a dream. "Maybe you'd like to come up and look around. I think you would find it more comfortable and I'd love to show you the view... " He turned his gaze to the waiter who, in what appeared almost to be a choreographed dance, effortlessly negotiated his way across the dining room with a silver tray balanced on the tips of his fingers.
"A chocolate mousse for madam." He said placing my dessert on the table before spinning on his heel and vanishing back into the kitchen. Spencer took my fingers in his hand.
"Bring the mousse up with you and we can get to know each other a little better."
I wondered how many other girls he had used that line on before; as Spencer's P.A. I had certainly been tasked with cleaning up the repercussions from many of his past conquests. Despite knowing this I still felt an almost self-destructive urge to join those poor girls and submit to Spencer's, and it must be admitted, my own, libido. Ignoring the inner alarm bells that were sounding loudly, I involuntarily batted my eyelids like a moonstruck teenager on her first date. "We can have a drink then I'll drive you home." Spencer added with the most innocent of smiles.
I looked up at him wide eyed and as vulnerable as Bambi confronted by a pack of salivating wolves. Despite this a swell of lust lifted me on a wave of recklessness.
"Maybe just a few minutes." I said in my softest, most feminine voice. "But promise you won't keep me out too late Spencer."
He took my hand. In all the time I had known him we may have shaken hands once or twice, this was very different. A gentle but firm hold, forceful and irresistible as he led me towards the lift. I hardly remember the ride up to his suite, just the pounding in my chest and the softness of the elevator music that seemed to me to be so romantic. My dessert was left forgotten and untouched on the table.
The view from his recently refurbished suite was magical with the distant street lights reflecting on the stillness of the Lake. I swear I could see Venus rising in the night sky... that had to be good omen, didn't it? Spencer took off his jacket and handed me a too large glass of Brandy. As I took it with slightly trembling fingers, I found the view inside Spencer's suite to be even more inviting. He drew his face close to mine and whispered in my ear. "I love your perfume, it's so sexy... now drink up... I can sense that you are a little tense; there really is no need to be, I'm here take care of you."
The thought of a strong man being there to take care of me, allowing me to abandon myself completely into his protection, seemed unbelievably alluring. I nodded and gulped at the liquor. It tasted wonderfully mellow and warming as I swallowed; my senses were starting to swim. From somewhere music started playing, romantic and familiar song from a long bygone age something about flying to the moon, playing among the stars. It may have been Sinatra, I was not sure but I seemed to float, lifted by the melody and the masculine presence that held me in his power. Spencer took me in his arms, holding me close we started to sway to the music and then he guided me across the floor in a slow intimate cheek to cheek dance. His strong arms steering me across the room as if I weighed no more than a feather and then he drew his lips close to mine inviting me to accept a kiss. I could feel the swell of his breath on my face, the spice of his aftershave heady and intoxicating. I was spellbound and lifted my lips up to his. A voice somewhere deep in my head was screaming no no no but the kiss he gave me was like an electric shock silencing that inner voice. I had wickedly imagined his kiss since he had first appeared at our table but the reality was almost too much for me. I now needed him with a fascination that I had never known before. But how could I let this continue? Despite how I looked, I was still not a real woman and even in the face of my burning desire for Spencer to make love to me, I knew that this folly could only end in an embarrassing disaster. I felt the guilt at betraying Andrea cut deep into me even as I clung closer to his embrace and drew my lips up to him returning his kiss.
Spencer slipped the shoulder strap from my dress, his strong hands caressing my breast, slipping it from the cup of my bra, he bent down and kissed my nipple with a gentleness that I had not expected.
Then he spoke and his words shocked me.
"Alexander, I know who you are. Darling don't be afraid, I want to make love to you. Will you let me?"
I was completely stunned, I could not understand how he knew who I was but as I tried to pull away, Spencer only drew me closer into his warm embrace. He nibbled at my ear, his hot breath falling across my neck. A shiver of pure sexual intoxication ran across my frame. My heart was pounding as if it was about to burst and I was desperate, despite everything, to give myself to him in any way that he wanted. I closed my eyes allowing myself to be drawn deeper into the exquisite moment, to feel the passion of his intimate closeness for just a few more instants before I could find the strength to pull away and run from his room.
"Will you let me make love to you darling?" He repeated in a sultry whisper. I opened my eyes and saw his beautiful face, so masculine so compelling that all my resistance suddenly evaporated. Despite all I knew about him, despite the pain of betraying Andrea, I simply nodded and Spenser slid the zipper of my dress down letting the delicate satin gown ripple to the floor. His hands nimbly removed my bra. "Oh Alex your breasts are exquisite." he said as he gently fondled them. Then he drew my face up to his and clamped his lips against mine and I willingly drew his tongue into my mouth. In this moment I was his, all resistance gone, completely and hopelessly surrendered.
I felt Spencer lift me in his powerful arms and carry me to his bed. He slowly removed the rest of my clothing and watching me naked on the bed he pulled off his own clothes revealing a muscled torso that I had never seen before. He drew himself onto me and roused me to ever greater passion by kisses and delicate intimate fondling. When he finally entered me any lingering resistance was long gone and I willingly accepted the full power of a real man thrusting deep inside me. After an all too short time my back arched with a tremendous shuddering orgasm but Spencer continued pumping me as I gasped for air. Then he came and as I felt the surge of his hot semen gush into me, I came again this time even more powerfully. I think I let out a high pitched scream of ecstasy as Spencer left me gasping and exultant.
In the afterglow, before I could contemplate the enormity of what I had done, I lay beside Spencer on the bed, curled against him, my crimson nails buried into his dark chest hair. I had the feeling that he had finally made me into a real woman. Then the door suddenly burst open and I felt it like the shock-wave of a thunderclap. I hardly had the courage to lift my eyes to the voice that I knew so well.
"I've changed my mind about this Spencer. Oh no... Am I too late?"
I pulled the sheets up to cover my nakedness but there was nothing Andrea had not seen before.
"I's not often I lose a bet Andrea; this time it might have been worth it... I never believed you could do this but you win. You really have turned Alex into something quite special... not just a slut desperate for my hard dick."
"No... no." Andrea sobbed. Her eyes turned to me. "I'm so sorry Alex..."
I raised myself up and tumbled from the bed naked and feeling as if I had just been raped, even though I had been completely complicit in what had just taken place.
"I'm sorry Alex... This... all started as a, sort of joke, just an innocent..." Andrea said, her words flustered and barely coherent.
"A joke?" I screamed. "Then you never felt anything for me but contempt?"
"No no no, not contempt Alex, never that." She sobbed her tears streaking her face and through her anguish she spluttered a vile explanation: "At first there was no real feeling for you at all, but as I got to know you as a person, I came to love you... you must believe that."
"How can I believe anything you say Andrea? How could you carry on with this contemptible bet if you, in any way, loved me? How could you treat me like that? After all we have gone through together, you have turned me into nothing more than a transvestite whore... just for some psychotic bet."
"No it wasn't like that Alex..."
"You knew that I'd never be able to resist Spencer." I screamed, my eyes flooded with bitter tears that ran like a torrent down my cheeks.
Spencer was on his feet now, dripping with his usual arrogance, he turned to me.
"Don't make such a big deal of this. You had a great shag... Andrea didn't make you sleep with me Alex." He said coming to her defence. "You wanted me as much as I wanted you... Probably more. Nothing was forced and I've just given you the best sex you've ever had in your life."
"Even if that's true Spencer it was all based around a lie. I've been horribly abused."
"You're the one who cheated on Andrea, admit it, you were desperate for me... the easiest chick I've ever taken."
My tears of shame and anger flowing down my mascara stained cheeks, I grabbed my clothes and hastily making myself decent, collected my things and ran for the door. I made the hallway without making eye contact with Andrea and stabbed manically at the lift button.
Thankfully no one else was in the lift as it descended painfully slowly to the ground floor. I was desperate to flee unseen but as I ran across the lobby, my heels clutched in my hands I could see all the eyes turning to me. I have no idea what they thought... a defiled young woman, an abandoned lover, a transvestite whore fleeing in her shame... I had no idea what to do as I burst through the doors and felt the icy air sting against my bare shoulders. Then I saw the Mazda hire car and remembered that I had the keys in my bag. Despite all the alcohol I had drunk I drove away heedless of my impairment. I glanced in the rear view mirror and through the blur of my tears saw Spencer. He stood, arms waving trying to tell me more lies. Then he was running for his Porsche. I accelerated away turning onto the main road against the sound of a blaring horn and the shrill squeal of tortured tyres as an innocent driver was forced to avoid my insane driving. I drove on up towards the mountains; not that I had any plan just an overwhelming need to escape.
I was out on Lomond crescent, the Porsche's headlights in the distance now flashing in my mirror. I swerved up onto a loose gravel track trying to escape from Spencer, the tyres of the Mazda scrabbling in protest. I finally seemed to have lost him as the track became rutted and hard to negotiate so I slewed to a stop tumbling out of the car and gasping at the cold air. The night air hit me like a fist. I was cold, beyond cold but I welcomed the numbing iciness. I could feel the feathers of delicate snowflakes falling against my face. Despite the freezing air, the view down to the silvery lake reflecting the shimmering light's of Queenstown held a stillness that my spirit craved. I lifted my eyes up to the sky and saw the flash of stars as the leaden clouds skittered past driven by a tormenting wind. I felt myself turning in circles under the spinning stars, looking for answers that would not come. I shifted my gaze to the snow covered peaks; they stood silent, majestic, awe-inspiring and untroubled by the petty worries of a lost soul on her birthday. I started walking aimlessly but it was far too late to be up there in the dead of winter, dressed for an evening in a warm restaurant. I was hardly thinking straight, not by a long way, not after what I had done.
I pulled my wrap across my shoulders and stumbled on with no idea where I was going. The sky above Queenstown, shimmering over the mountains seemed to hold onto the light long after the sun had gone down, something to do with the purity of the air drew the stars down until they rested against the lake. The western sky behind the dark clouds was still tinged with the memory of pink but my mood seemed to draw the colour from my surroundings leaving nothing to see. Grey upon grey. Desolation.
I had left the Mazda's sidelights on still glowing a welcome, a place of safety to return to but as I turned my eyes I could no longer see the car. There was no moon yet; the air was filled with the sound of running water seeping from the melting snow. I stumbled on the uneven path, my shoes, open toed with a delicate ankle strap as I had once lusted after, were just wrong for the rugged terrain. As I picked my way carefully across the puddles they let in water, icy against my toes. The puddles would soon freeze to black ice like my heart. Through it all, I knew that I had to turn back. Just a brief moment in the cleansing air and I was starting to gain the shadow of a perspective. The Southern Alps seemed to effuse purple, the lake black in the shadow of the mountains as the world turned in its own geometry invisible and insignificant in the stars of the milky way.
I heard the squeal of tyres first, an agonising sound, aggressive, nihilistic. Then as the car came closer and left the smooth tarmac following me up the rutted track, I heard the familiar snarl of the engine. I knew who it was of course long before the headlights pierced the night sky and fell against my back. I felt like running but there was nowhere left to go. The headlights fell against my shoulders like a slap showing me in stark relief against the blackness of the night. The Porsche slowed then stopped; it was suddenly silent like the moment before the inevitable crash of thunder. Then it began.
"Alex."
I pulled my flimsy wrap tighter as the wind whipped at my hair.
"Alex, come back this was all a mistake."
The words were conciliatory but I recognised the tone of his voice, it was filled with deep resonant anger. I knew he had been sent to try and make peace... I knew who had sent him but I did not want to listen. I had been cruelly betrayed and felt empty.
What what a momentous year I had lived through. Andrea had made me into a different person but not without my own complicity. I was not stupid, I watched each of her subtle manipulations and accepted them with increasing eagerness, abandoning myself to her will because it was what I wanted too. As I stood there in the desolate night I knew, even in my despair, that I could never go back to being the Alex who once inhabited this body. That old Alex no longer existed, the shattered pieces lay beyond repair. But I was left now unable to trust anyone and I could feel the strands of my future stretching out before me offering nothing but solitude and loneliness.
I heard his car door slam and the crunch of his shoes on the gravel. He came and took my arm, his fingers like a vice against my yielding flesh. I beat out with all my remaining strength wanting to hurt him but I was no match for his physicality. I had neither the strength nor, I discovered, enough hatred.
"There's nothing more you can do to me Spencer." I said. "I thought Andrea loved me but you have taken that away."
Spencer shook me by my shoulders, my head snapping back painfully as I heard his words tearing at my soul. "She never loved you... didn't you know there's only one woman in her life."
"What do you mean? Who?" I whimpered.
"Can't you guess?" He laughed.
"Not Amy?" I said as more tears flooded my eyes.
"She was never far away... Andrea had her kept cosy in a little love nest. Didn't you ever wonder about the nights she was late getting home?"
"No, no..." I cried.
"It was Amy who made the call to the restaurant... It was all set up."
I beat my fists against Spencer's chest, even if it was true there was no need for him to torture me with this now.
"Just leave me alone." I screamed.
He grabbed my wrists laughing all the while, I was too weak to fight him but we struggled and I fell to floor ripping my stockings and grazing my arms on the sharp gravel. He knelt down, not to help me but with his anger finally overwhelming him, he hit me. A punch to the face, another to my ribs. It was what I deserved, I almost welcomed the blows, the searing pain.
"Well you can rot in Hell Alex," He said "but don't say I didn't try. Some people will just not listen to reason."
I think he knew that I was beyond listening; I know he had nothing but contempt for me. Finding me was just a gesture, a way to cement his relationship with Andrea. Long after the sound of the Porsche had faded I could still feel his oppressive presence leering over me. Feeling suddenly dizzy with dark spots dancing across my eyes, my breath clouding the hazy air, I gazed up once more into the infinity of stars... Fly me to the moon I thought, the melody suddenly hateful.
I could taste the metallic stickiness of blood from my cut lip. I was alone, alone with my thoughts and my bruises. The houses were far behind me hidden behind the landscape, no lights to be seen anywhere. The lake was to my left and to my right the slope of the mountains reached down to the road as if it wanted to swallow the ribbon of tarmac in a single gulp. There were sheep standing on the hillside huddled against the cold, white but almost invisible with heads bowed, stoic. The air was suddenly still and all the colder for it. My eyes smarted with the cold. Why had this happened to me? The question ran through my head colliding with memories and dreams, some of them bitter with sadness, some of them achingly beautiful. Then with a suddenness that belonged to the isolated setting, I sobbed. It was not like before, nothing to do with anger and shame; this time my tears feeding the softly falling snow were for my lost dreams.
I left Andrea and my darling Marcella for good on that night and set about drawing the shattered fragments of my life together. It was difficult at first struggling with little money but I managed to survive, to become the woman I was destined to be. I have regrets but aching for times past is like chasing after a rainbow. The essence of my time with Andrea no longer consists solely of sadness. I look back now with measured fondness for those days. I can accept now that Andrea had grown to care for me despite what she had done. I doubt it was really love but to be cared for at all is a jewel to be treasured. I still have her pearls despite the temptation to sell them when times were at their worst. Thinking back I feel her life was filled with more regret, was sadder, than my own.
She died two years ago, hit by a speeding SUV whilst out one evening cycling under a growing dusk. It was on the TV news and I sobbed bitter tears when the item drew me, shocked, from my reverie. Marcella would never remember me but I know we had shared a precious love in those months when we played at being mother and daughter. I don't know where she is now, she will be a teenager already... I will find a way to send her the pearls when she is a little older. They were her great grandmother's and I have no right to them even though I think I have come to understand why Andrea gave them to me.
What lingers of those days is the mundane little incidents of life: a clock ticking on a wall, the sound of an infant's laughter, the tinkle of wind chimes, the evocative smell of nail polish and red wine. The people who were the centre of my universe for those short months have receded into ghosts. I no longer breathe the same air as they nor dream the same dreams. But at times I catch a glimpse of them as if across a misty valley or perhaps against a starry sky with Eros rising. Eros with its promise of renewed hope keeps alive those lost days for me. The fragile love that I found in that precious, long forgotten little family endures even now.
One day I may find someone to love me again.
Chapter 1
I think we can say that she was not, by nature, a happy woman.
She managed to maintain a fragile facade of normality but beneath that facade she was haunted by a darkness that came and went like the wax and wane of the moon. Voices in the night, a Siren Song of despair that flowed down the river of years, her world was haunted by fluttering passions and unnamed fears more disquieting than any vampire loitering in the shadows.
Jane Ashton had made the quaint English village of Elmwick her home for the past eight years. Living in Elmwick was less a conscious choice, more a confluence of circumstances that had directed that she settle there. Despite this she appeared, to a casual observer, quietly content as she settled herself into a self-made cocoon that gave her some immunity from the daily irritations that were likely to trouble her composure. She had moved into a thoughtfully restored cottage and although small, the rental was comfortably within her means. She earned a modest living working as a receptionist at the local dental surgery which she found to demand little of her abilities, maybe a little more intellectual stimulation would be welcome but she was not an ambitious woman.
The weekends were her favourite time and it was a Saturday morning into which she woke. Jane liked to sleep in on the weekends and as she drew back the veil of the curtains on the morning, she discovered that the clouds had blown away overnight to reveal the prospect of some fine days. It seemed to Jane that the capricious season had finally decided to settle itself into summer. The early sun highlighted the view casting a sheen across the marigolds and snapdragons of her small garden. The soft mist visible across the slopes was already lifting to show the shapes of the distant trees as they came swimming into view.
It was not planned, nor a regular thing for her, but Jane decided on a sudden impulse to take a walk on that fine morning; the housework could wait. After a quick shower she dressed for comfort, tied the laces on her trainers and leaving her shadowy demons behind, slipped her bag across her shoulder and set off at an easy pace feeling 'in the moment' and in search of a little tranquillity.
From the cottage gate she walked up the village high street past the old Norman church with its twelve great horse-chestnuts standing like apostles in the churchyard. Then she crossed away from the cluster of busy shops and followed the edge of the farmland until she came to the walking track that wound its way past the thickly blossoming hawthorn hedges and on to the stand of ancient oak trees. She stood for a moment gazing up at the sky through its filter of shimmering emerald foliage. Already she felt enlivened as her ears were filled with the soft babble of the stream that led its chuckling way into the river Chigwell. She threw a pebble into the water and the splash startled a bird, a hunting bird – maybe a kestrel, the name had a nice ring to it she thought. She watched as it rose effortlessly into the bright sky. Weightless, it hung on the currents of the air turning above Jane's head. Looking down with its piercing eyes it could see a different universe from the world of men, a universe filled with its fleshy desires spread out waiting to be harvested.
It was almost an hour after setting out before Jane found herself by the long abandoned water mill with its heavy oak wheel looking for all the world as if it might burst into motion at any moment. As she turned the corner, the view opened to reveal the old stone bridge that crossed the Chigwell and joined the upper slopes of the village. Starting to tire she made her way towards the bridge and stood looking over the edge of the chiselled stone into the dark water, sunlight reflecting in green flashes from the trailing weed as the water slowly slid away on its journey to the Thames.
The morning had already blossomed into a day of clear, breezy warmth and Jane was starting to feel the unfamiliar threads of happiness weave into her heart. The melancholia that sometimes threatened to overwhelm her was nothing but a shadowed memory under the sunshine. No doubt her mood had been enhanced by the invitation to dinner that Harry Colville had surprised her with only yesterday. Jane was, by general consensus, considered a little plain in appearance, not necessarily unattractive but at 34 and despite numerous brief affairs, she was still single and felt it was time for her to find a significant someone to settle down with. Harry was a successful junior in the Hammerton based, Fitch and Brompton legal firm, At 28 he was a little younger than Jane but she saw that as no impediment; it was Harry who had made the approach after all. Jane could easily imagine herself falling in love with him and on a more pragmatic note he was rather a good catch – if she could manage reel him in.
Harry lived on the outskirts of Hammerton and was only thirty minutes away from Elmwick by car which made him not only desirable but conveniently placed. Jane smiled as she watched the mid-morning sun dapple through the sycamore trees that lined the river where it bent in a curve of dark water. Across the ancient single lane bridge she could see the outside tables of the Elmwick Café nestled alongside a carefully cultivated rose garden. The café was where her nephew Oliver was working. It was a job to occupy the weeks between the end of school and the start of the university year.
Oliver Fox who was 18 had come to live with his aunt Jane nine months earlier after his parents had been tragically killed in a shockingly pointless road accident. As Oliver's only surviving relative, there was an expected familial duty which Jane bore stoically in offering a home to her elder sister's son. It was a duty she could not reasonably dismiss but her heart felt less compassion than might have been expected for the orphaned boy. Becoming a sudden parent to a boy she hardly knew rested on her shoulders as something of an imposition, in any case she had never been especially close to her sister who was twelve years her senior and had started her own family while Jane was little more than a child. Jane comforted herself with the knowledge that Oliver would, by the end of the summer, be taking a place at Kingswood University and her responsibilities for him would be at an end. The burden, and it was no real burden if Jane was honest, was nothing but a brief interlude in her life. If she had been able to approach things with more compassion for Oliver, it might have been a time to look back on with satisfaction, happiness even, but Jane was only able to see her duty to her sister's son in a more shadowy light. It was a duty to be completed with as little disturbance as possible to her own routine. She found Oliver to be quiet, self contained and undemanding of her time and this suited her well. He disappeared for an early morning run every day and by the time he got back she had already left for work. Her nephew was like a fleeting shadow glimpsed from the corner of her eye, hardly noticed.
Oliver was already at work preparing for the day. He could be found in the back room beyond the kitchens and was seated on one of the window-seats, that backed onto the rose garden. The window-seats were freshly painted white and the room still held a trace of the paint's distinctive odour. Above them the casement windows were open allowing a soft breeze to lift Emma's blond hair. She looked very pretty as Oliver closely watched her skilfully applying lipstick. Emma was 16 and worked for her mother as a waitress during much of the holidays.
"Nice colour." Oliver observed in the quiet soft voice that came naturally to him.
Emma smiled at him her eyes sparkling with mischievous insight.
"I like it," She said "It's a pretty colour that might suit you." She held out the lipstick to Oliver "Would you like to try it?"
Oliver hesitated for just an instant too long before blushing a 'don't be silly'. Despite the words he knew that Emma was fully in tune with his inclinations; trying to deny that he was tempted to try the pink lipstick was pointless.
"Go on... no one will mind, you've already done your eyeliner." Emma's voice bubbled with good humoured laughter.
"Just you leave the poor boy alone Emma." They both turned to the voice that loomed from the main kitchen. It was Fiona Wilson, Emma's mother and proprietor of the Elmwick Café. "Now come on you two, we have customers to serve." Emma gave that exasperated sigh that teenagers are so innately skilled at when negotiating the fluctuations of their lives with their parents.
"OK Mum... such a slave driver." Her eyes lifting in exaggerated faux irritation. "I'm only working as a waitress during my holidays as a favour to you."
"That and the huge fortune you'll earn." Her mother countered. Emma laughed.
"Yeah right." She knew that her mother could see straight through her, in a way she still rather liked that level of intimate understanding. If she was pushing the envelope towards adulthood and independence, she was still comforted by her mother's unconditional love. Pretending indifference she picked up the aprons that were the closest thing the staff had to a uniform. They were spotless white linen with a screen printed 'Elmwick Café' logo placed in the lower corner. The logo had been designed by one of Fiona's friends long before the café was a reality and the art work had been the final spur needed for Fiona to bring her aspiration to fruition.
Emma tied one of the aprons round Oliver's trim waist. It hung just above his knees and Emma stood back admiring her handiwork.
"Looks just like a pretty white skirt, don't suppose you mind that Olivia."
"It's Oliver thank you and no I don't mind at all." He said with a quiet smile.
As he followed Emma out towards the tables Fiona caught his hand.
"Just come to my office for a moment will you?"
"Of course... is there a problem?"
"I hope not."
The office was a small room where Fiona took care of the inevitable paperwork once the last customers of the day had disappeared. She sat on the edge of her desk, legs crossed her foot gently swinging making the impromptu meeting feel informal.
"I hope you don't take Emma's teasing to heart Oliver."
"No, not at all I like her, she has no malice in her... not like others I've known."
"Well that's good... Look I don't want to tread on your toes but if you would like to... express your feminine side a little more openly, then I would be fully supportive. If you would like to dress a little more like a girl then it would be no problem for me; I know Emma would be keen to help you if you would like that. We could change your name tag to stop any confusion... I know many of our customers already assume you're a girl just from your general deportment."
Oliver was rather taken aback by the observation. He was not really trying to look like a girl, not yet. But beyond the surprise he was moved by the kindness that Fiona expressed. He wished his aunt Jane could show as much kind insight. Almost without stopping to think he embraced Fiona in a warm hug. Fiona's maternal instinct was kicked into overdrive and she held Oliver close. He had been so long without the comfort of arms round him that he could not help the tears that ran down his cheeks.
"Oh Oliver you poor dear girl..."
"No, no Mrs Wilson, I'm fine... It's just that understanding words have been so rare since my parents died; your kindness just opened the flood gates... I'm sorry to make a fool of myself."
"Not at all sweety, I admire your courage in dealing with what you're going through. Now dry your eyes.. you might want to redo your eyeliner." She added with a chuckle. "But remember what I said, I meant every word." Fiona handed Oliver a box of tissues and he made good use of them.
"You are so kind Mrs Wilson... But I have decided to wait until I go up to university before I plunge headlong into my transformation. For the moment I'm happy straddling the gender fence. For so long I've had to suppress my true nature just to survive at school that I feel I have to move slowly or I might burst."
"OK... I think can understand that... if you need to talk, or need another hug any time, you know where I am."
Oliver nodded and dabbed at his eyes once more.
"Take a moment sweety and then I could use your calm efficiency in working those tables... Show my flighty daughter how a dedicated waitress should perform her duties."
Oliver had spent his difficult schooldays constantly battling to conceal all trace of his natural tendencies but now, very slowly, he was starting to allow what he had always known to be his true gender to push up into the light like a germinating seedling and following Mrs Wilson's words of support he knew that he no longer had to face the future alone... There were some compassionate people out there after all.
Jane crossed the bridge and headed towards the café, she could already smell the alluring aroma of roasting coffee beans as it drifted towards her on the air. It was a nice morning to take coffee, it would be a waste not to take advantage; perhaps she would indulge in one of the irresistible little cakes that they usually had on offer. Taking a seat she looked towards the café entrance for any sign of Oliver, he waved to her as their eyes met across the tables and she offered him the familiar smile that she kept especially for her nephew, the one that expressed patient resolve rather than any real warmth.
With his long hair and dressed in a loose cotton top, tiny shorts and with the apron round his waist, he looked an exact match for the flirty girl who Jane had identified as the owner's daughter. She found herself muttering to herself:
"They could almost be sisters."
Oliver weaved his way across the tables to where his aunt was waiting.
"Hello aunt Jane... coffee?"
"Mm... Yes, you might even be able to press me to one of those cream éclairs; you know the ones I like."
"OK, back in a minute..."
Jane could not help noticing the eyeliner that he wore just like the goths she had sometimes seen congregating like a huddle of lost souls by the school gates. She smiled remembering her own misguided fashion sense as a teenager. Those days... those happy days, did not seem so far away but in truth she had changed so much since then. Now the shadows of her inner darkness were never far away, constantly waiting to nudge into her peripheral vision.
When Oliver returned Jane nodded toward the unoccupied chair.
"Can you sit for a moment?"
Oliver looked round guiltily before taking the seat.
"Just for a moment I should get back... we're starting to get busy."
"I just wanted to comment on your... what shall I call it?... your fashion sense Oliver." Jane wiped a little whipped cream from the edge of her éclair with the tip her index finger and licked it clean before spending a few moments giving her nephew some unwanted advice:
"Oliver, I think this is what your would mother would want me to say... I really think you should make an effort to appear a little more masculine darling. From a distance, it has to be said, you are starting to look more like a girl than a boy. I know its the fashion these days to have that androgynous look but if I didn't know better I might think you were gay."
Oliver stood, he was unconcerned by his appearance, possibly flattered to hear that he looked like a girl even if only from a distance.
"What ever I am Aunt Jane, rest assured I'm definitely not gay."
"No of course... Not that it would matter." She added pointedly "Just think over what I said."
Oliver bent down and kissed his aunt's cheek; he was determined not to let her tragically unperceptive view of him spoil his day.
"I will... It'll only be a few weeks and I'll be out of your hair for good so please don't worry about me Aunt Jane. I already know exactly what my mother would say about my appearance... Now I really must get back to work."
Jane watched as he walked away, there was a definite feminine sway to the way he walked, it was not unattractive and with his shoulder length hair she thought him handsome in an adolescent way – beautiful even. At almost 19 he had still not lost the innocent look of childhood as if he had been caught in a time warp or had had a spell cast on him holding him back from the effects of puberty. Jane smiled as she sipped from her cup, her thoughts drifting, not for the first time, to an indiscrete place. If Oliver was not her nephew... if he was a little older... Then... The fantasy sent a delightful shiver of guilt down her spine which she chose not to fully acknowledge. Anyway she now had the prospect of a relationship with Harry Colville an exceedingly handsome real man of undoubtedly powerful masculinity.
As Oliver walked past a table, as if to confirm Jane's observations, and elderly man, seated with his wife, raised his hand:
"Excuse me miss," he said to Oliver "could my wife and I have another of these delicious scones?"
"Of course you may Sir." Oliver said with what the watchful aunt Jane took for a slight curtsey.
"A curtsey for God's sake... So much for my advice" she thought. Jane let the moment pass with a sigh and an inward shrug; the advice had been given if he chose to ignore it then, fine.
Oliver was grateful for his aunt's care over the last few months. If she had been kinder to him he may have been more open to her about his situation; more open about his continuing hormone treatment that had been started before he had lost his parents. As it was, he thought it better to keep such things from her. He had already developed the start of feminine hips and had breasts now, small maybe but real breasts – instead of celebrating them he waited patiently keeping them bound and concealed under baggy clothing in case his aunt should see them. His focus was on his future; he was soon to move to out of his aunt's orbit to Kingswood to take a degree in modern languages and he hoped to start his new life there as a different person – the young woman that he was, by stealth, already becoming.
Oliver's parents had left a detailed will leaving twenty percent of their estate to Jane and everything else to Oliver. His aunt Jane was named as his legal guardian until he started at university or reached the age of twenty. In the meantime Jane would administer his inheritance under the guidance of the family solicitor and take an income to cover Oliver's expenses. His aunt would soon release his inheritance which would support him comfortably until he graduated and beyond. He felt nothing but gratitude for his aunt but because of the disdain in which she seemed to hold him, Jane was already starting to blur into a hazy irrelevance for him as he stretched out to embrace his imminent womanhood.
Chapter 2
The Summer seemed to fly past and soon Oliver was working his last week at the café. He was to finish at the café on the following Saturday which would leave him a few days to prepare before relocating to Kingswood. His time at the café had been enjoyable, undemanding work maybe but the environment had been a huge improvement, his days were full of happiness instead of the constant fear he had felt at school. He especially drew joy from being able to make friends with Emma and her mother who were both accepting of his gender issue. Fiona Wilson had tried to intervene with Oliver's aunt Jane, suggesting that she should not be so critical of his androgynous nature. Unfortunately the advice had not gone down well and the two women parted as – the best of enemies, Jane vowing never to set foot in the Elmwick Café again.
Oliver took this news about his aunt as an opportunity. His previous intention to continue identifying as male until he left his aunt now seemed less vital, and he had, with Fiona's help slipped easily into working at the café as a girl.
There were now two Olivers; one sat silently at home, pale faced, dressed in old jeans and baggy shirts, hair tied back still pretending to be a boy. The other Oliver was bright and smiling, he had become the princess of the café and might be found in skin tight jeans or even a tight black skirt with a pretty pink shirt. This Oliver showed a face glowing with delicate smokey eyes, a trace of blusher along the cheekbones and yes pink lipstick. Her name tag read Olivia and her blond hair in all its glory was released from its captivity to flaunt seductively as she floated between the tables. Nature had made Oliver beautiful, the blossoming of the fact had waited patiently for her femininity to be exposed. She stopped short of perfume because the lingering scent would be hard to disguise as Olivia, increasingly reluctantly, changed back into Oliver each evening.
"I'm really going to miss you when when you go to Kingswood." Emma said hugging Olivia. "Here I got you these." She said with a trace of self-consciousness as she handed Olivia a small carefully wrapped parcel tied with delicate curling ribbon.
"You shouldn't have Emma, that's so kind."
"Well it's your last day... we may not see each other again."
"I'll make sure to stay friends with you and your mum. I promise."
Olivia turned the gift over in her delicate fingers. She had let her nails grow a little and was wearing pink varnish for the first time in public. It was a simple thing but having feminine hands did more to lift Olivia's spirits than she could say.
"Well open it then..." Emma pressed.
Emma had bought Olivia a pair of dangling silver earrings, Olivia held them up and watched the sunlight flash against the tooled metal.
"They're beautiful... thank you so so much... not just for these but for being my friend." She kissed Emma on the cheek.
"Who couldn't be your friend Olivia... you're such a sweet person."
"A lot of people would not be my friend Emma... those who claimed to be my friends at school would drift away leaving me to my fate as soon as the school bullies gathered."
"That's so sad, I'm sorry about that... If we had been at the same school, I would have stood by your side."
"I think you just might have Emma... I would have loved to have been transferred to a girl's school but my parents thought otherwise, they said it might be opening a whole other can of worms."
"Those days are over now Olivia... Look, I don't know how you feel about this but I've been invited to party on Saturday, I've been told I can bring a friend... will you come?"
Olivia felt excited by the invitation but there was a nervous hesitation in her response.
"I'd like to... Will there be anyone there that I know?"
"Just me... don't worry, it's mostly girls from my school, a few boyfriends probably but even if there is someone who knew Oliver, no one is going to recognise you if you dress as Olivia."
"You're sure?"
"I can totally guarantee it."
"OK, I'll come..." Olivia bounced on her toes and let out a little bubbly laugh. "How do we get there?"
"Come over to our place, you can change there and my private chauffeur, AKA 'Mum' will drive us."
Jane was struggling a little with her relationship with Harry, she found him obviously handsome, attentive, supportive and a good listener. He was very generous with his time and money towards her, she could hardly imagine a better potential husband. Harry seemed to like her well enough but at times she wondered what the deliciously masculine young man had seen in her. She felt the gnawing internal voice whispering doubts that his interest in her was based on something less than the romance she was looking for. The progression into intimacy had been slow, not moving much beyond kissing. She knew that her own reticence in these matters might be partly to blame but Harry had made no advances pressing her to sleep with him which she had rather expected to have happened by now. Jane was growing increasingly keen to get Harry into her bed so that the relationship could be better cemented. To this end she had invited him to dinner at the cottage. She would feed him, ply him with drink and using what she knew of seduction, use her honeyed words to entice the man into her bedroom. From there it would be up to Harry to show his metal. Jane was conceited enough to not consider the possibility that Harry would not be aroused by her if she made the offer sufficiently explicit.
Oliver had told Jane that he had been invited to a party, something of a rare event for her nephew and she took the news with surprise. But it gave her the opportunity to have the cottage to herself for the evening and was the ideal time to invite Harry to dinner. So she had eagerly encouraged Oliver to accept the invitation; for his own good of course.
On the evening of the party Oliver gathered his things into a shoulder bag and set off for the Wilson home. As he walked up the high street a silver BMW eased its way past him and pulled into the cottage driveway. "Must be the boyfriend" Oliver thought. He mused that it was strange that his aunt had never invited the boyfriend home before but Oliver's mind was on other things. He walked up past the fields where they kept horses, in the distance he saw a handsome animal galloping up the grassy rise. The stallion ran with the wind, his head and tail up in exuberance. His life was simple; confined to his paddock, in the emerald curve of his grassy universe, he did not know that he was not free and that meant that he was free. "Could you envy the simple life of a horse?" Oliver wondered.
Emma and her mother lived within walking distance of the café and he was soon admitted into their home. It was effused with an atmosphere of happiness and simple homely comfort, a contrast to his aunt's cottage which he found pleasant enough but somehow lacking in emotional warmth. Oliver was made to feel instantly at home as Fiona welcomed him.
"Hello Olivia sweety, now you two girls go and get ready I know it will take you ages and we need to set off in less than an hour."
Emma led Olivia into her room. It was no child's bedroom, no cutesy pink walls or scatterings of soft toys. Emma had stamped her style on the room. Painted in muted pastel shades, there was a touch of grown up glamour with weathered wood furniture. A subtle hand painted flight of butterflies floating across the end wall gave it an unapologetic feminine touch while the windows were curtained in shabby-chic print cotton which continued the butterfly theme.
"Oh I love your room Emma."
"Thanks, I did it myself... with a little help from the dragon."
Olivia laughed. "There's no way your mother is a dragon."
"No I know... but you have to keep mothers on their toes." She laughed and drew Olivia onto her bed. "Show me what you're going to wear... I can't wait to see."
"Well... I went shopping... got a few things..." Olivia delved into her bag and took out a gift wrapped package. "I got this for you Emma."
"Oh it's gorgeous..." Emma said as she lifted a printed silk scarf from the carefully opened gift wrap. "I love it, it's so elegant... I'm totally wearing this tonight."
"So this is what I've got... I hope its not too grown up looking." Olivia drew out a sleeveless cocktail dress in a muted lilac almost grey shade. It hung in an elegantly draped style. With a modest neckline revealing just a glimpse of cleavage, the dress exuded a simple yet classically chic style. Olivia had paired it with nude thin strapped heels and a matching bag. "I'm going to wear the earrings you bought me." She said "I've got lipstick and nail polish to match the dress and some lovely sheer grey stockings.
"That dress is so sophisticated you are going to look fantastic... I'm going to feel like a little girl beside you."
"It's not too much is it?... Buying dresses is all a bit new to me."
"No it's perfect, I can't wait to see you in it. If there are any boys there they'll all be drooling over you."
Olivia laughed. Boys had always been something for her to fear – the harbingers of physical and emotional pain. But lately as her transition had progressed she had caught her imagination glimpsing the attractions of men through a brighter prism.
When the girls finally emerged from Emma's room, Fiona was already waiting with car keys jangling impatiently in her hand.
"Wow... I mean Wow. Olivia you look stunning..."
Olivia blushed but she did feel good. This was the first time she had really dressed to fully show off her femininity and it seemed to have been successful.
"And what about me?" Emma said.
"Oh you always look stunning darling, there's no need to remind you of that... is that a new scarf?"
"Olivia bought it for me... isn't it divine?"
"Olivia, that was so kind... you have such great taste... I can see I'll have to take you along next time I go shopping. Now lets get you off to Priory Hill, I have things of my own to do..."
Jane was standing by her open door as Harry slid from the leather seat of his car. He immediately noticed that she had made an extra effort with her makeup, possibly too much effort Harry mused. She was also wearing a rather revealing blouse and a tight skirt. If she had known that Harry preferred his women to be prettily demure rather than tarty, she might have presented herself differently.
"Not late am I Jane?"
"No, I just heard your car pull up and came to meet you." Jane took his face in her hands and pulling him towards her, kissed his lips before drawing him into the cottage. There was the pleasant scent of dinner coming from the kitchen. Onions sautéing over a low heat, the aroma of baking, of sliced apples, of honey and raisins and spices. Without speaking Jane handed her guest a large glass of red wine and pulled him down onto the sofa next to her. Harry swirled the wine and took a sniff.
"Mm, Cabinet Sauvignon this is the good stuff; I'm honoured Jane but I'll have to limit myself to one glass I'm afraid."
Jane nestled herself under his arm, her cheek against Harry's chest while her fingers seductively rested on his thigh. Jane could not quite believe it but she almost felt Harry squirm a little as she pulled herself close to him.
"If you're worried about drinking and driving... there's really no need for you to leave until morning; I've put clean sheets on my bed... it might be nice if we were to find some mutual comfort in it."
"Oh... I'm sorry I hadn't realised... the fact is Jane I've already promised to pick up Charles Fitch's daughter from some teenager party she attending. Charles is out of town on a conference and I drew the short straw. I'm so sorry Jane but I'll have to leave by just after eleven at the latest."
Jane pouted, her disappointment was palpable but not unexpected, a little voice had been whispering such things to her all day.
"Oh well there'll be plenty more opportunities for us to get to know each other a little better."
"Yes, of course." The need to pick up his boss's daughter sounded like an excuse when he uttered the words but it was nevertheless the truth. however the escape it offered him was not unwelcome. This new Jane was starting to make him feel uncomfortable. He would never admit it to her but his initial invitation to take her to dinner was offered as a kindness, not quite pity but the offer came from his innate compassion. He saw Jane as a lonely and possibly depressed woman. He had seen depression before and it had not ended well. He simply wanted to offer Jane his friendship. From his point of view there had never been any real romantic feelings. In fact Harry had been mulling over how he could let Jane down gently and end their relationship.
"We can still enjoy a nice dinner together" Jane said as her fingers continued their relentless progress up his unreceptive thigh.
On the other side of Elmwick the new cluster of houses built for the commuting affluent nestled on the slope of Priory Hill. One of the houses was still lit up, festooned with coloured lights that hung in the trees outside the property. Party music was still drifting up into the clear night air but in deference to the hour, was now softly muted. The party had been a great success but was starting to wind down.
Olivia, despite her fears, had simply passed as a young woman, there was no suggestion that she might be anything other. When she and Emma had first been welcomed, Olivia froze on seeing a boy she knew from school. She knew him to be cruel and he had on more that one occasion launched some viscous invective at Oliver who retreated into his shell of silent self protection. Now this paragon of the male gender seemed to want to get close to her. Olivia took some perverse pleasure in turning down his requests to dance and when he persisted she managed to quietly deflate his ego when she told him that she didn't dance with little boys... maybe he should ask one of the younger girls. After that he did not bother her again. Emma had been correct, no one did or could recognise her. As the guests started to leave Emma pulled Olivia out onto the street to wait for their 'chauffeur' to return.
"Did you have fun?"
"More than you can imagine Emma, I'm so glad I came."
"Me too."
Olivia's attention was caught by a silver BMW that glided to a halt outside the house.
A pretty girl, she looked much the same age as Emma, waved to the driver who got out of the car and smiling held open the door for her. As his passenger got into the car the driver's gaze was caught by Olivia's face, the curve of her cheek edged prettily with light from the open door. She looked a little older than the others; perhaps an elder sister chaperoning the teenagers. He did not know her name, had never seen her before, but watched as the breeze lifted her hair. As she moved a thin ribbon of light streaked over the fold of her mauve dress falling on the pale rise of her breast. She was slender and tall in her heels. Some girls look elegant in tall heels while others just look ungainly, wobbling like a newly dropped foal. She seemed to glow radiant in the soft light. As he watched her, thinking that this woman was way out of his league, Olivia lifted her eyes to him and for a moment he convinced himself that she had noticed him. But then her glance slid away, like a silk scarf sliding from a polished table. He might have known. "How could such a beautiful young woman notice someone like him?" He thought, but his insides still turned to jelly.
Olivia stood by the side of the road as the soft music spilled across the road. She had noticed the man and as their eyes met for that brief instant, she felt something that she had never experienced before. As the orb of the moon watched from the dark sky, Olivia's heart fluttered.
A few days later the persistent Jane invited Harry to lunch at the cottage. She was starting to grow anxious that she had been unable to entice Harry into a closer relationship and hoped that a more casual lunch date might be able to reset things after the disappointing dinner. Jane now realized she had played her hand too forcefully. Harry, she had come to see, was a man who needed wooing rather than seducing. A slender distinction maybe but this was to be her next approach.
It was only days before Oliver was due to leave his aunt's cottage. Disguised with some difficulty as a boy again he sat on the sofa reading.
"Will you be home for lunch?" Jane asked him.
"I have no other plans, I need to finish my packing this afternoon."
"Well Harry is coming for lunch..."
"You want me out of the way?"
"Well that sounds a little harsh, in fact I would like you to meet Harry... but if you were disappear after the introductions, I would raise no objections."
Oliver smiled he was well tuned in to knowing when he was not wanted.
"Understood." Oliver said, he had no interest in impeding his aunt's love-life. From what he could gather she was already struggling to keep the man's interest and he knew how much this 'Harry' person meant to her. In fact Olivia was now suffering with her own romantic feelings. Her mind slipped back to the evening of the party and the brief distant encounter with the man she had seen across the street. Since that transient moment she had been unable to get the troubling but delightful thoughts of the man from her mind and if this is what Aunt Jane was feeling then Olivia wished her well.
As Jane let Harry into the cottage she notice a strange diffidence in his manner as if things had changed between them. This was not something deliberate on Harry's part but he still found himself caught up in a strange longing for the young woman he had glimpsed at the night of the party. Their eyes had met for maybe five seconds but that brief moment threatened to change the entire course of his life. How could he explain that to Jane?
Oliver was in his room, he had made himself a peanut butter sandwich and was sorting, between delicate bites, through his books... the leather bound copy of Pride and Prejudice that his mother has bought for him was obviously a keeper, as was Camus' L'Etranger that he had struggled to read in French when he was sixteen. The paperback copy of The Undomestic Goddess by Sophie Kinsella... maybe not; he slipped it onto the growing undecided pile.
"Oliver darling, come and say hello to Harry."
"Coming..."
The shock when Oliver saw Harry was beyond description. Immediately he recognised the man from the party. He felt a deep red blush rising up his neck and blossoming on his cheeks. His legs started to tremble and he found himself unable to muster his thoughts into any sense of coherence, let alone form any sensible conversation.
Harry stared at Oliver, there was a lurch in his chest. This boy had the exact same face as the young woman who's brief glance had left him infatuated.
"Oliver... nice to meet you at last." Harry managed.
"Hi... Sorting my... things... books..." He blurted and turned his face back to his room.
"You don't have a sister do you Oliver?" Harry called to the rapidly retreating boy.
"No he's an only child," Jane answered for him. "Why do you ask?"
"Oh nothing... he just reminds me of someone."
"Well Oliver needs to get on now, he's packing for his move to Kingswood."
"Oh... well nice to have met you Oliver."
Oliver smiled and quickly sought refuge behind the closed door of his room. He sat on the edge of his bed his mind in turmoil.
It was an hour later when there was a quiet tap against his door. He opened it a crack and once more saw the man that had left him trembling. In hushed tones, as if he did not want Jane to hear, Harry slipped Oliver his business card.
"Look, will you please give me a call on my mobile number, you would be doing me an enormous favour if we can just talk."
"Harry... where are you?" They could hear Jane's sing-song voice echoing from the kitchen. Oliver took the card.
"It was you I saw picking up the girl at Priory Hill." Oliver said.
"I knew it was you... please call me." Harry whispered, his voice barely perceptible as Jane's footfall could be heard behind him. He turned his face towards the kitchen for an instant and when he turned back Oliver's door had already silently closed.
Chapter 3
The long awaited transformation from Oliver to Olivia took place on the train to Kingswood, the journey, station to station was scheduled for one hour and twenty minutes; it usually took longer. Most of Oliver's meagre possessions had already been forwarded to his newly leased studio apartment so he was travelling light. Oliver boarded the 10:04 to Kingswood dressed in a baggy T shirt, high waist women's dove grey leggings, that he had convinced himself were unisex, and a pair of dangerously pink trainers. He had a bag slung over his shoulder in which he had carefully folded a change of clothing. When he emerged from the train's toilet, he was wearing a floral print short sleeve blouse over his liberated breasts that were now supported in in a lacy bra. His tied back hair had been released and brushed to a fullness and a pair of sling-back wedge heels had replaced the trainers. He wore no makeup and to pass unnoticed as a woman he really needed none.
It took Olivia only a short time to install herself in her furnished apartment. It was on the top floor of a three story Victorian brick house accessed by a shared set of stairs. Olivia's choice of accommodation was influenced to some extent by the lack of other students in the building. Most would have preferred to live in the hall of residence or share a flat with a group of other students. But Oliver's school experience had left him wary of his fellows and not unexpectedly Olivia, with possibly less reason, shared her alter ego's nervousness. Olivia was by nature and by necessity rather a loner but that did not mean that there was no desire for someone special in her life. Maybe someone to share her morning run across the park or even just be waiting with a cold drink when she got back.
The money from Olivia's inheritance had been invested and generated a small income and with that and nibbling at the edges of the capital, Olivia could cover the lease and allow herself a modestly comfortable lifestyle. After collecting the keys to her new home Olivia spent the morning sorting out her belongings and settling in. The afternoon was set aside for some much needed emergency shopping. Her lack of women's clothes was as evident as it was inevitable; she intended to correct the shortfall as soon as possible and arrived home some hours later laden with bags of clothes and necessities. The excitement of unpacking her shopping finally over, Olivia collapsed exhausted into her bed for an early night.
The next morning, still dressed in her printed cotton PJs, she made herself toast and a cup of mint tea. There were still a few days before the start of term and now that the immediate rush of hectic activity had quietened, Olivia's thoughts were able to settle again on the card that Harry had left her.
When he had asked her to call him, her immediate impulse had been to do so straight away but then a nervousness had set in and somehow the call had been neglected. Maybe it was the fear that she had totally misread Harry's intentions, that she would be made to feel a fool or left disappointed and bereft. She knew that to calm her confused state there was only one course of action. With trembling fingers she took out her phone, hesitated for a moment as her heart started pounding in her chest and then entered Harry's number.
He answered almost immediately as if he had been holding his phone waiting for her call since he had slipped her his card.
"Harry Colville"
"You asked me to call... we met briefly at Jane's cottage."
"It's Oliver is it?"
"I go by the name of Olivia now... you may have guessed from the night of the party that I..."
"Olivia... I love the sound of that name... Look what I wanted to say was that I was entranced by that brief glimpse, I knew I had to see you, to talk to you."
"You understand that I'm transgender?"
"Yes, I see that now... It really doesn't matter to me. Look Olivia, this is going to sound absurd, but what I felt for you was like some mystical flash of connection. I've never believed in all that 'love at first sight' nonsense but that feeling went beyond any concerns about gender identity. I felt that I had caught a glimpse of my soul mate on that magical evening."
Olivia was thrilled and stunned by the words she heard. She could think of nothing to say beyond a pathetic little "Oh..." Harry filled the ensuing silence with more nervously cobbled words of his own:
"Look I don't want to come over as some sort of idiot caught up in a self-invented romantic fantasy, please don't let my jabberings put you off... the thing is... I hoped that you felt something too when we saw each other across that moonlit street... If you did then maybe you would like to meet me."
"Harry that's rather a lot to digest. I can't deny that you have been in my thoughts too but my coming out as a woman is a new thing for me. Even my aunt does not know yet so please don't tell her about me."
"No, no I never would, you can trust me on that."
Despite feeling desperate to leap at Harry's offer, her words were more considered:
"OK... but I don't feel as if I'm ready yet to get involved with anyone, I'm still discovering who I am."
"I'm not asking you to rush into anything... All I want is to meet you, spend a little time and see if my obsession is real."
"But what about Jane, I know she has feelings for you and hopes for a future with you."
"Even before I first saw you, I had been trying to find a way to let Jane down softly. Romance was never really my motivation in spending time with her, now that I've come to know her better I realise that she is not the woman for me. I'm sorry to say this about your aunt but Olivia, I find her a little too morbidly self obsessed..."
Olivia could not help the little laugh that bubbled prettily from her throat.
"I know what you mean Harry... So where do you want to meet?" She said as if his matching view of Jane had been all that was needed to tip her off the edge of her caution.
"Are you in Kingswood?" Harry said.
"Yes."
"Me too... Could I possibly buy you lunch?" There was a brief hesitation from Olivia as she considered the implications. "Look no strings... just lunch and a talk." Harry said.
"OK but I'll need to share the bill."
"If you must, that's fine; do you know the Wycliffe Arms restaurant?"
"On Ockham street by the monument?"
"I'll meet you there at twelve."
"Make it one o'clock can you?... A girl has to make herself presentable."
"Thank you so much Olivia, I'll see you soon."
The phone went dead and Olivia stared at the screen for long minutes. Already she missed him and yet she knew nothing about the man.
In a sudden panic she thought of what she might wear, if not for yesterday's shopping trip she would have had nothing at all beyond the lovely cocktail dress and that was not really suitable for a lunch... 'date'... "Could she call it a date?" she wondered.
"Yes it's a date." She said out loud as she twirled across the room. "I have a date."
Olivia found that getting ready for her meeting with Harry came with a whirlwind of emotions. There were nerves, excitement, anticipation, and so much more. She discovered that she felt the need to impress Harry and so there was the selection of what to wear. Her wardrobe was still modest, Most of her clothes had been of a unisex style. The few male clothes she had owned had been carefully washed then bagged and left at the Oxfam shop. Much of what remained was intended for her day to day life as a student. She still felt the need to primp and polish every inch of her body and to dress in something that would catch Harry's eye yet still appear casual. She wanted youthful elegance, prettiness rather than glamour and from her limited clothing resources she chose her pretty floral tie-waist dress to be paired with her only jacket: a smart mushroom coloured summer weight double breasted jacket adorned with gold buttons. The only suitable footwear she had were the pair of low heel wedge shoes that she had worn on the train. She chose to wear her simple cuff bracelet and a pair of faux pearl stud earrings. A spritz of the Gucci Bloom Perfume, that Fiona Wilson had given her as an unexpected going away present, would she hoped, add a sensuous touch. A little subtle smokey eye makeup and nude lipstick would complete her look.
Olivia hurriedly headed to the shower. Once dried she tucked her unwanted boy bits away and put on her prettiest underwear. She curled her hair with her styling wand and dressed before doing her makeup. The restaurant was only a twenty minute walk away from her flat and to help calm her feathering nerves she decided to walk to the restaurant, past the shady cloisters and library courtyards, through the business district and on to the scattering of shops that edged up to the restaurant on the corner. Already she could see the tall stance of the monument set in it's green square of grass. Checking the time, Olivia increased her pace a little. It was a fine day, a gentle breeze fluttered the feathers of the pigeons that scurried across the flagstones. The sky was a pale blue that looked almost translucent as if you might see into heaven and catch a glimpse of an angel's face. Instead she saw Harry's face.
He was standing in the shadows of Ockham Street by the entrance to the restaurant. She felt a shiver of nervous excitement as he lifted his eyes to her and smiled. Such a smile. Olivia closely observed him as her paces drew her towards him. He had a sportsman's body, tall and lean muscled. "Here was a man able to take care of himself" she thought. He had black hair curling over his ears in a tidy but carefree style. His stance appeared considerate and calm but a man who would stand his ground if necessary. He just oozed masculinity, not the aggressive boorish sort but a more considered protective strength that she remembered from her father, whom she had adored like only a daughter can – long before he knew her as his daughter. Harry's close presence, his undoubted interest in her made Olivia melt into her femininity like never before.
As she stood before him, her breath fluttering, he took her fingers in his warm hands and they kissed cheeks, a delicate touch no more but it was enough to make Olivia's knees feel weak. He held the door open for her and ushered her inside. The atmosphere was calming, softly lit with the faint hint of guitar music making a background tapestry to the hushed sound of relaxed conversation. Olivia removed her Jacket as they were seated, they sat across the table from each other and Harry, after ordering, moved his eyes to his young companion. Olivia already appeared as an elegant woman, with a natural refinement that made her obvious prettiness seem almost unnecessary. Her shining blue eyes were examining him from under her mascaraed lashes. She glanced at him, then her eyes danced away, as if in shyness. He smiled as he watched her attention pause then slowly, as if compelled, her eyes turned back to him resting on his face, her mouth reflecting his smile as if he was the only man in the world.
They had a little wine, to accompany their roast aubergine salad with feta and almonds. Then they shared a Tiramisu. Olivia found it a delightful lunch; improved beyond measure by the company. The early part had been filled with small talk but over coffee Harry edged the conversation towards his reason for asking Olivia to accompany him.
"Now that I've properly met you Olivia, I have to say that my feelings have only been confirmed... I've never been affected so much by a woman before. I just don't want to lose that feeling."
Olivia's breath had been taken away by Harry's words and she simply smiled at him as he continued:
"The fact is my life has been in rather a turmoil lately... I'm in the process of changing jobs; the details were settled weeks ago before I first saw you but the legal firm I'm moving to is based in Kingswood and I'm looking for somewhere to live locally. On top of that I've been struggling with finding a way to let Jane down; she seems to have been rather throwing herself at me just lately which has not helped... and then out of the blue I saw you...and my universe took a sideways lurch."
"Did it?" Olivia smiled at him her gaze had settled on his brown eyes. "I'm sorry if the sight of me has added to your turmoil Harry." She said.
"Why don't I quite believe that?" Harry said. Olivia laughed.
"OK, I admit it... I like the fact that you are infatuated by me because I feel exactly the same way about you and now we've met I find you a person that I might also be able to trust."
Harry could see a reticence in Olivia, he understood that her life had not been easy.
"Go on." He said.
"Well you already know my situation... but life as a boy was barely worth living... you can not imagine how it was."
"So tell me."
There was a long pause before Olivia answered.
"The first time I tried dressing as a girl in public, I was naive and inexpert. I was far from being able to pass and was harassed by people on the street that I did not even know. I can remember every detail, what time it was, what I was wearing, how I'd done my hair, everything is etched onto my memory. Mostly I remember what they said and how they said it with real hatred. For years I lived in fear that it might happen again so I hid myself away, kept my head down, tried to be a boy but everyone at school knew my 'secret' and I could not escape their taunts and worse. Without my parents I don't think I would have survived."
"When you say taunts and worse what do you mean?"
Olivia's eyes glazed with tears.
"Verbal abuse and physical abuse... I was often beaten up and once.... " Olivia's voice broke into little more than a whisper. "I was raped with a bottle Harry purely to humiliate me."
Harry took Olivia's hand.
"You poor girl... Forgive me for asking such an indelicate question. I really had no idea that there were still people out there like that."
"There was no future for me as a boy but I promised myself that I would not present as a girl again until I was a hundred percent confident that I could pass as female. I don't believe that I'm gay Harry I just feel that I am a woman who wants to be attractive to straight men."
"You are Olivia... trust me in that."
"Thank you..." She gave him a shy little smile. "I want to be able to walk down the street holding a man's hand without attracting awkward glances, to be able to smile at a child without being thought a pervert. My parents were the only ones who knew the true me. They found me an understanding doctor and I was started on hormone therapy... As you can see I look mostly like a girl now. But Harry you must understand that I'm still pre-operation my doctor wants me to wait another year before I have surgery. I have nice little breasts and a shapely figure, a feminine face and voice but I still have male genitals. I already know that that you would never be hateful to me but if any of what I've said is a problem for you, then we should walk away now before things become complicated."
Harry watched the emotion tremble across Olivia's face, watched as her eyes brimmed with emotion. He knew without doubt that he was already in love with her. He did not know how to adequately respond to her words and simply said:
"Will you walk down the street holding my hand? Will you come with me and smile at a little girl I know?"
Olivia's lids could no longer contain the tears and silvery pearls sneaked away from the edge of her eyes and meandered down her cheek.
"Yes please." She said as she fumbled in her bag for a tissue.
Harry paid the bill insisting that Olivia was his treasured guest and they walked out into the pale sunshine. Harry took her hand and they smiled as they walked along the street together.
"Do you really know a little girl?" Olivia said.
"I'll take you to see her... Just let me make a phone call."
Olivia looked into the display of a shop window as Harry made his call, turning she caught the last few words.
"OK Julia I'll see you in ten minutes."
He took Olivia's hand again and hailed a passing taxi.
"Trentham Gardens please." He said to the driver.
"So tell me about this girl you know." Olivia said.
"Well it's a long story... I don't want to bore you."
"I think there's very little danger of you doing that." Olivia said as she nudged herself closer to him in the intimate space of the taxi's rear seat.
"Well... I had this best mate named John; when we were younger we did everything together. As we grew up I was best man at his wedding, godfather to his daughter. He seemed set for a perfect life but out of nowhere he suffered a crippling bout of clinical depression. I had no idea how serious such an illness can be, it took long months of suffering before it ended tragically with him taking his own life. Shortly before he did, in one of his brighter moments, he asked me to look after his wife Julia and little Sophia if anything should happen to him. Of course I agreed not thinking anything about it knowing that he would soon be well again. So when the unthinkable happened I stood by Julia and her daughter as I had promised. Julia was left with nothing and I helped them as much as I could, you should perhaps know that I'm helping her financially until she can get back on her feet. As soon as Sophia starts school Julia will be able to resume her job and my support will no longer be needed."
"That's so kind of you to take on the responsibility."
"Any one would do the same. John and I were really close, like brothers really and I think of Julia as a sister; I simply had to help her and little Sophia. I have so much and they were left with nothing. John had life insurance but because of the manner of his death they have refused to settle the claim."
"Is there nothing that can be done about that?"
"I'm working on it... There is a case going through the courts at the moment but their legal department is wrapping everything up in reams of red tape... I'm still hopeful that Julia will eventually get something."
"I hope so... it seems so unfair."
The taxi drew up outside Julia's place and as they got out into the afternoon brightness Harry waved up to a face peering from one of the windows.
"Come on they're expecting us."
Olivia was admitted to a small but nicely cared for apartment. Harry and Julia hugged.
"This is Olivia." He said introducing the young woman who stood rather shyly at Harry's back.
"Hello Olivia, it's nice to meet you." The two women exchanged handshakes.
"You didn't tell me you had a new girlfriend Harry..."
"No it's a rather sudden development."
"Well you make a handsome couple." She turned her head watching her daughter who was crouched behind a chair anticipating a game of Peek-a-boo with Harry.
Olivia smiled at the child who's eyes were peeking out from her hiding place.
"Hello," she said "You must be Sophia."
"Say hello to the nice lady." Julia encouraged and Sophia crept out into the open her face beaming at the pretty young woman who had squatted down and held out her arms. Sophia was a naturally affectionate child, raised in love she knew only kindness and she ran to Olivia and embraced her.
"Wow what a delightful little girl." Olivia said. "I can see we are going to be good friends."
They stayed at Julia's place for about an hour and Olivia grew to understand how compassionate Harry was, how good he was with the delightful little Sophia who clearly adored him; "but then, who could not adore him?" she thought.
Harry took her hand again as they were leaving and Olivia felt a tremor of physical excitement course through her body. It was a feeling she had never know before, an urgent need for his closeness, to feel his sweet breath on her neck, to feel his hands on her body, a desperate desire for his powerful masculine intimacy.
Later, after declining her invitation to come up for tea, Harry left her standing outside her flat. As she watched him driving away in his taxi Olivia knew with complete certainty that she was in love.
Chapter 4
As the early days of autumn started to draw its russet canopy across Kingswood, Olivia began her university studies. Initially cautious she soon found that she was simply accepted as a girl, no one knew her from her previous life and anyone who might have been acquainted with the introverted Oliver would not recognise him as the attractive and more confident Olivia who learned to stride the university halls as carefree as any other girl. Her life had changed for the better and Harry's close supportive presence was a key factor in that. As Olivia settled into her new life so Harry prepared to settle into his. He had just one more week before he started his new job and took Olivia along one evening to see the house he was proposing to buy in the centre of Kingswood. It was a restored 18th century property, once a major home built for a member of the aristocracy, it had been divided into three smaller, but still substantial, dwellings and had a fully modernised interior but kept the original impressive facade. Olivia fell in love with the home, suggesting subtle improvements that Harry might consider. Olivia's approval of his choice seemed to be the spur that Harry needed to make an offer on the property.
They stood together on the stone balcony that looked out over the river and the winding cobbled streets below. In the gathering darkness the apartment's lights shimmered from the balcony; the river reflecting them, glimmering like diamonds in the dark water.
"It's such a lovely view from up here, I can't imagine a nicer place to live."
"I'm pleased it meets with your approval." Harry said as he rested his arm across Olivia's shoulder.
"Harry, we are getting close... don't you think?"
Harry smiled. "I think you could say that."
"No pressure but I really think you should let Jane know that it's over between you."
"Ah, yes point taken, I have been dragging the chain a little over that... the truth is I don't want to hurt her feelings, its not in my nature, but I can't really see a way to tell her how I feel without upsetting her. I think she's quite fragile emotionally."
"Mm... you could be right. Beneath her veneer of indifference I have seen moments when she seemed troubled. If she had let me get closer I might have discovered what lay hidden inside her. I might even have been a comfort to her. When did you last see her?"
"It's been over a week, the last time I had intended raising the subject but she was getting overly amorous and in the end I made my excuses and left in rather a hurry."
"Why not just ring her and say it's over, or even send her an unequivocal text message."
"Sending her a goodbye text sounds so easy but it's rather a callous way to end a relationship."
"Well, Jane has often dropped her boyfriends by text without turning a hair."
"Has she?"
"Once she has grown tired of someone, she can be quite dismissive."
"I think I can believe that... there can be something a little disquieting about her sometimes."
"You've noticed that too?" Olivia said.
"Yes the way she can drift off into her own thoughts..."
"I've always assumed that it's just how she is, even my mother told me that she struggled to get really close to her... Does Jane know that you are changing jobs and moving home?"
"For some reason, I felt a little unwilling to tell her that; I guess subconsciously I didn't want her to know where I was going. Perhaps I saw my moving as a way of putting space between us."
"So Harry my sweet, just send her a text... I'm sure you can phrase it in a way that will let her down gently."
"Yes Miss, I'll do it this evening..." he said with a smile, "which reminds me... the phone I've been using is supplied by my old firm, one of the very few perks of the job. I'll have to give it up in a few days, so remind me to give you and Julia my new number as soon as I get a replacement."
"If you think I'm a worthy recipient of your number." Olivia said with a soft laugh, maybe she was probing for reassurance that her relationship with Harry was still resting on a sound foundation.
"Oh I think you might be on the list... somewhere near the bottom." Harry said. Olivia poked him playfully in the ribs and Harry responded by leaning closer and kissing her cheek. Olivia took the kiss with a warm glow of pleasure but longed for him to kiss her lips and let her melt into his arms. She still held onto a nagging doubt that he did not quite see her as a woman. She looked into his smiling eyes and saw nothing to confirm her doubts but nothing to quite convince her that this dream she was living could really be true.
Jane read the text with a frown of confusion wrinkling her forehead. She read it again, certain that she had misunderstood it; how could Harry drop her? On the third and forth reading she was forced to accept that her hopes for a life with Harry seemed to be at an end. She took the news badly, more in anger than in sadness; her feelings confirmed by those quiet voices in the night that whispered softly of revenge.
Jane was a spurned woman and in her anger, the reality of her relationship with Harry was lost to an invented fantasy in which she saw herself as the victim of Harry's philandering nature. The more she fumed the angrier she got. She let her anger simmer for a few days and the dark anger drew power from Jane's enduring melancholia that had been an unwelcome companion since her childhood. Pushing the darkness down by force of will, she decided that, after all, she might give Harry one more chance; if he were to make a suitable apology for his misguided text message then she would probably forgive him.
She phoned his number and found to her astonishment that the number was not available. Her second call was to Fitch and Brompton at Hammerton. The receptionist told her that Harry Colville no longer worked for the practise and no she was not able to give Jane his new address as it breached the company's privacy policy.
"We'll see about that..." She muttered under her breath as she did an internet search of local private investigators. The man she settled on was chosen for his modest scale of fees rather than from any reliable recommendation; it was not a wise choice. Jake Boyd, despite the imaginative advertising he posted on his web page, was new the investigation business. He had followed a long list of unsuccessful enterprises, mostly in sales, until in the desperation of his early fifties he had stumbled upon the opportunity to take over a run down investigation business. He imagined himself restoring the business to its former glory; so far he had experienced limited success but Jake Boyd set about Jane's case with an enthusiasm that out-weighed his capability.
By now the purchase agreement for Harry's new home had been confirmed and Olivia, lecture time permitting, was quite willingly enlisted into helping him select furnishings for his new place. One weekend morning she arrived at Harry's home intent on helping him paint the Kitchen. He welcomed her with coffee and rolls and as they sat contemplating the task that lay ahead, Harry took her hand.
"I want to thank you for all the help you've been in setting up my new place... I've got you a little something just to express my gratitude."
He took a small package from the kitchen drawer and handed it to Olivia.
"Oh how sweet of you... there was really no need. I've helped you because I want to, I want to spend time with you, whether it's going out together or working together, all the time I spend with you is blissful."
She kissed the tips of her fingers and placed them on Harry's lips in a show of deep affection. Then let her fingers slide over the gift wrapping of the unexpected gift.
"You are allowed to open it..." He said. "I know you love poetry, especially the 19th century romantics."
"Oh its a book... how lovely." Olivia carefully removed the wrapping paper to reveal the cover. It was a black book with a stylised rose bush embossed in gold. "It's Yeats... Oh my... The Secret Rose."
She opened the book and gasped. "Harry, this is a first edition: Lawrence & Bullen, 1897. It must have cost you a fortune."
"It was nothing compared to the delight your presence has already brought me." Harry said.
Olivia opened the book and read aloud a few words:
"The Secret Rose.
FAR-OFF, most secret, and inviolate Rose,
Enfold me in my hour of hours; where those
Who sought thee in the Holy Sepulchre,
Or in the wine-vat, dwell beyond the stir
And tumult of defeated dreams; and deep
Among pale eyelids, heavy with the sleep
Men have named beauty."
A tear crept into Olivia's eye.
"Harry my darling, I will always treasure this... I must give you something in return, something precious to me..."
She delved into her handbag and drew out a small velvet bag. Inside was a silk rose, petals still virgin white despite its age.
"This was my mother's, it was taken from her wedding dress, she kept it with with her always. I guess I'm my mother's daughter, I'm as sentimentally romantic as she was. When they were killed I found it among her things and I have kept and treasured it just as she did."
"I can't take that Olivia... it's so personal to you."
"But don't you see? That's exactly why I want you to have it."
"You can't imagine how much this will mean to me Olivia, to keep something that means so much to you..."
Olivia smiled, Harry's words were a confirmation that she really had found a space in his heart.
"I offer it with love Harry, it's not worth any money but it is so precious."
"I'll treasure this always – protect it with my life."
"Then it's settled... " Olivia wiped her eyes and beamed a smile at Harry. "So, the painting; you promised me some overalls."
"You are one amazing woman Miss Fox."
"I know."
Olivia dressed in the overalls that Harry had found for her. Possibly two sizes too large she rolled up the sleeves and leg bottoms and did a little twirl for Harry who burst out laughing.
"What?"
"No nothing, you look perfect... honestly nothing at all like a circus clown."
They settled down to their task, the paint was in a shade pretentiously called 'arctic springtime' which if Olivia had not known better she might have called white. When the painting was finished and with both their faces daubed with splashes of arctic springtime, Harry poured them a both a glass of celebratory wine.
"Thanks for all your hard work today." He said as he drew Olivia closer to him. Olivia's heart started to pound as their lips drew closer. When the inevitable kiss came, it left Olivia tingling but desiring much more from the man she loved.
"Will you make love to me Harry... I've wanted it for so long, but I'm not experienced in this so please be gentle with me." She pulled him close again and closed her lips on his, felt the electric touch of his tongue as it gently caressed her own. "What ever you want to do to me Harry I'm yours... I don't know much about sex, especially for a girl like me bit I would love to feel you inside me."
"I would like that that too darling... I promise I will be gentle."
Olivia pulled herself from the oversized overalls and stood wide eyed, hair tousled her feet bare. Harry took her in his arms and gently slipped his hands under her T shirt, feeling the exquisite plumpness of her breasts he gasped with a desire that had been building since the day he had first seen her. He had been too cautious, he thought, in pressing Olivia for the intimacy he wanted and it was Olivia who finally made the approach and now took his hand, and led him across the darkening passage to his bedroom.
The room was untidy like a typical bachelor's room with yesterday’s discarded shirt still hanging half on a chair half on the floor; "the room needed a woman's eye, a woman's touch" Olivia thought.
Olivia drew him onto the soft comfort of Harry's half-made bed. "I want to undress for you so that you can see me naked... Harry... I'm terrified that my half woman half boy body might disgust you."
"Darling never think that, you could never never disgust me."
Slowly and shyly Olivia removed all her outer clothing, then the pretty underwear and finally released her boy parts from the tape that kept them concealed.
Harry gasped at her beauty. Her skin was blemish free, pink and soft. There was no trace of pubic hair and under her perfect breasts, slender waist and woman's hips, even her small boy parts had taken on a strangely feminine allure.
"My god Olivia... you are so so beautiful... I had no idea."
Harry held his arms out to her and with the evening light from the window slanting into the room casting shadows across their naked bodies, Olivia abandoned herself to intuition, letting her body take over. It was as if, for the first time in her life, her body was her own; no longer something alien, no longer a boy's body, now it seemed to be moving on its own drawing her inexorably towards a longed for yet still uncharted pleasure. Harry seemed clumsy and nervous at first as he fumbled with a tube of gel – Olivia felt it was his desire not to disappoint her that made him nervous and loved him all the more for his gentle reserve. She knew that this fragile intimate moment meant as much to him as it did to her and she softened into his sweet embrace coaxing and helping him.
"Tell me if I go too far," He said.
"You never could, you dear gentle man." Olivia whispered.
She adored the feeling of his weight pressing on her, the spontaneous arching of her back responding to the push of his hips as he so gently entered her, the easy rhythmic pressure bringing a blissful tension that Harry maintained until Olivia lost all sense of time, she felt an endless oneness, together in the universe with the man she had willingly given herself to. She gasped crying out in ecstasy as Harry finally brought her to a climax. The rush of intense pleasure, when it came jolted her, the feelings lasting long after Harry gasped at his own release then turned his face to her. For a moment all he could do was look into Olivia's eyes and then he wrapped her in his arms, as if driven by an intense, uncontrollable desire to show her that his love went far beyond the physical.
It thrilled her, the thought of what they had just done, way he could make her respond to him – the way she could make him respond to her. She kissed him on his lips and he gave her an exhausted smile, his body spent in love. If she had been uncertain before, now she knew without question that his love for her was as strong as her love for him and as the light faded into the pink of a hazy autumn sunset, they slept needing nothing but each other.
The private investigator had done some sniffing and with an eagerness supported by little more than his naivety, he reported back to Jane who was eager to hear what he had found. He came in person to her cottage, arriving in a rust-scarred eighties Ford Sierra but bearing some interesting news:
"Now then Miss Aston, my investigation has led me to draw some troubling conclusions. I'm afraid to have to tell you that Harry Colville is not the man you thought him to be."
"Tell me more."
"Well, all indications point to him being married to a young woman, they live together in a modest home in Trentham Gardens, a cheaper area to the north of Kingswood. They have a young daughter aged about three or so who the neighbours suggest he dotes on."
"A wife and daughter... my God."
"Yes... He has, as you suggested, recently changed employer and is now working for a firm of solicitors in Kingswood. I can supply their name if you require. I suspect, unknown to his wife, he has recently purchased a rather elegant property, in the heart of Kingswood by the river. The man clearly leads a double life stringing his wife along while also leading a high life that his wife knows nothing about. One might describe his river side residence as a 'love nest' so to say, where he entertains... and I use the word advisedly, a rather attractive blond woman. If I had to guess, from her appearance, I would say she was a fashion model or some such, however my observations have revealed that his mistress is in fact a student at the local university. When not with Mr Colville, this 'other woman' lives in a modest studio flat... no doubt also paid for by Mr Colville... Now then Miss I must say I find his behaviour towards his wife as extremely disreputable and if I may be allowed to offer an opinion, his rather tawdry lifestyle indicates that you may have had a lucky escape."
Jane turned pale at what she had heard she sank onto her sofa grappling with the implications. The darkness that she had struggled to suppress was suddenly released.
"How long has this affair been going on?"
"Now then, I suspect you wish to know if Mr Colville was seeing the young woman while he was also attempting to seduce you. I have to tell you that I think he probably was... men like him are insatiable in their needs."
"I am really shocked Mr Boyd, you are certain of your facts?"
"Miss Ashton, my dear, I have many years of experience, this is my specialist field. I believe that you can have complete confidence in what I tell you." He blinked hard, it was a failing that was likely to overcome him when he overstepped the truth.
"Well thank you for this information Mr. Boyd there can be no doubt that I seem to have been lucky not to have been drawn into Harry's adulterous web."
Jake Boyd watched as he saw Jane's face pale; she seemed to fall inside herself and spoke quietly with an almost unnerving quietness:
"I will take no pleasure in it but I must tell his poor credulous wife just how vile a man she has married."
"Yes... indeed so... If you must. Now Miss Ashton, try not to get too upset."
Jane looked up into Boyd's face as if startled back into the present by his words.
"Yes, yes of course." Jane said as a little composure came back to her.
"I feel that I should caution you to proceed carefully Miss Ashton, my experience tells me that such men can resort very easily to violence when confronted by the uncomfortable truth of their behaviour. I would hate to see an attractive young woman such as yourself come to any harm."
Jane looked coyly at Jake Boyd from under her fluttering eyelashes. "Is the man flirting with me?" she thought with a hint of interest, but then observing the shabbiness of his jacket, the red boozy nose, remembering the rusting Sierra, she rather quickly thought better of her inappropriate impulse.
"I understand what you are saying Mr Boyd, but trust me Harry Colville will not get away with his shocking behaviour... Do you have the wife's address?"
"Her name is Julia, I will email you her exact address and the address of Colville's love nest when I get back to the office."
"Thank you Mr Boyd, you will send me your account?"
"Well now then, as a matter of fact I have brought it with me... I could take a cheque now to save you the postage or I would be more than happy to take cash if you have it."
"I still do have a cheque book somewhere. I don't believe I've used it in years... you don't have the facility to accept a card payment?"
"I must admit to being behind the times in that respect but my secretary is in the process of setting up a system with my bank." Jake Boyd blinked hard once more.
Jane looked at Boyd's account, such was her mental state that the numbers swam before her eyes. The total due came to substantially more than she was expecting but she eventually found her cheque book and concluded her business with Mr Boyd who smiled affably as he tucked the cheque into the inside pocket of his ailing jacket.
The following morning Jane was still struggling to master her dismay; it was clear to her now that she must abandon all hope of forging a reconciliation with Harry. Her following morning at the dental surgery offered no respite, her mind was constantly churning, evolving from simmering anger to full blown outrage as the day progressed. Once home she immediately composed a note to be sent to Harry's wife telling her about his love nest and the mistress he took there.
Dear poor naive Julia,
You do not know me, but I have suffered the misfortune of being outrageously tricked by your husband into a relationship with him. I was the innocent party in this, believing your husband to be single. This relationship is now over but I feel I must let you know that he is currently having an ongoing affair with another attractive young woman. You may not know this but to entertain his mistress he has recently acquired an expensive property by the river in Kingswood while you are living in modest means with your young daughter. I have no wish to upset you but feel that you could not be so unworldly as to be unaware of your husband's infidelities. Men are so weak in matters of the flesh and the wife is often to blame in withholding her matrimonial duties. I advise you to look to yourself to correct your husbands most shameful behaviour.
Yours in sadness,
A well wisher.
A couple of days later Harry took a call from Julia, she was clearly upset. Her beloved husband was dead and yet now someone was making vile suggestions about him.
"Julia this has to be a mistake, try not to get upset. I'll come over and talk with you this evening... I'll bring some takeaway food... is it OK if I bring Olivia, she has a sympathetic ear and she may help bring a little calm perspective. In any case I know she would love to see you and Sophia again."
"Yes please come Harry and bring Olivia, having another woman's perspective is just what I need... I'm sure I'm just being silly, but loosing John is still a very raw emotion for me."
"I can totally understand that Julia, we'll see you in a while... just hold on to the certain fact that John loved you with all his heart... even in the depth of his illness."
It was just starting to grow dark when Harry and Olivia arrived at Julia's place. The earlier rain had faded to a fine sticky drizzle and the street light cast a shimmering yellow reflection across the damp street. Harry took Olivia's hand and guided her under the shelter of their shared umbrella as they walked towards the entrance. As Julia opened her door she got a long hug from Olivia and then another from Harry.
"Something smells good." Julia said pretending a level of composure that was not really there.
"It's Chinese... Sesame chicken with bok choy; shall we eat first while it's still hot?" Olivia said as she sat and lifted Sophia onto her knee for a cuddle.
"Yes... that would be good... in fact guys I've thought things over and... well I think I'm probably making a mountain out of a molehill... I don't really believe that the letter could be about John, he simply would never have betrayed me and Sophia... I guess I'd just needed some reassurance."
"Well I can absolutely guarantee that John never cheated on you, we knew things about each other from our student days that would make us all blush and if he did have another woman on the go I would have been the first to know."
Julia smiled, her fingertips brushed the back of Harry's hand in affection.
"I'm lucky to have you as a friend Harry... You and Olivia." The two women hugged again and then set about demolishing the takeaway.
Once the meal was over Julia brought out the handwritten note and lay it on the coffee table. Harry took it and read the few words.
"These are the words of a spurned woman, she's not interested in helping anyone, this is just an attempt at some thinly disguised malicious revenge. The pity is she has sent it to you by mistake."
"Let me see." Olivia said.
Her eyes scanned the words and as Harry watched, her face turned pale.
"What is it?" He said.
"I recognise the handwriting..."
"What?"
"It's Jane's hand writing... I would recognise it anywhere."
Chapter 5
Once the raw angry emotion had died down, all three decided that the best course of action was to simply ignore Jane's letter. Julia had no understanding of the motive that lay lay behind it and just wanted to forget the whole unfortunate incident, happy with Harry's assurance that it had nothing to do with her or John. Harry and Olivia could easily guess what lay behind Jane's confusion: Clearly Harry had been somehow mistaken for Julia's husband and Olivia was taken to be his mistress. Olivia had never thought of herself as a mistress but it was a far less unpleasant slur than the ones she had suffered in a different life when she had been known as Oliver. Olivia knew that she should contact Jane, maybe go and see her. Let her meet Olivia the woman she had become. Maybe Jane would finally understand and they could become friends. At least she could clear up her confusion about Harry.
Olivia knew she should do this and yet she hesitated, there was that cool reserve about Jane that had prevented them from getting close when they had shared her cottage. Beyond this, Olivia was still too fragile in her female identity to risk an unpleasant scene with her aunt. Maybe in a few days, she thought. But the few days became a few weeks. Nothing more was heard from Jane, no follow up letters, so the moment passed without Olivia taking any action. It still troubled her however that her aunt could be so vindictive as to write such a hurtful letter but also Olivia could not help the feeling that she was partly to blame for it for not being more open with Jane.
As autumn drew on, the chestnut leaves were already beginning to turn and fall, floating dryly down through the silence of the cool air. A sweet humid smell of autumn rose damply and filled the air. It was in this mellow season that Olivia celebrated her birthday. Harry took her to a candle-lit dinner at an expensive restaurant. It was a happy time for them as they celebrated their love.
Still shrouded in her unremitting anger, Jane found no pleasure in the mellowing change of season. Oliver's birthday had passed without her noticing; he seemed to have been lost to a forgotten interlude in her life. Perhaps not deliberately, but a veil had be drawn over their brief life together. Jane was too wrapped in her own obsession which continued to fester. Her desire for some sort of revenge on Harry was becoming a neurosis, gnawing at her sanity. She was simply unable to let her anger at Harry go and it was slowly but inevitably tipping her fragile mental equilibrium towards a dangerous place... toward a crisis.
By now Harry had settled comfortably into his new home; he found it perfect with one noticeable exception – the lack of someone to share it with. He had said nothing to Olivia but in his dreams he knew that she belonged there with him. Asking her to move in with him was a big step for both of them; the joy it promised was beyond measure... but the risk of rejection, however slight, had stayed Harry's hand until now. Tonight he had committed himself to asking her. He stood on the balcony tingling with an unfamiliar nervousness, watching eagerly for Olivia's arrival. A cool breeze fell on his shoulders and he felt a shiver run down his spine; it may just have been the damp air but it felt different more like a warning, some form of premonition. The feeling passed as quickly as it had come and was soon forgotten as he rehearsed the words he would use to invite her to fully share his life. – Would she even consent to becoming his wife?
As the sun dipped below the horizon, the autumn evenings chilled quickly and brought steaming breath and a rising mist that hung low on the river. The evening air was filled with the damp autumn scent of sweet decay. Harry checked his watch, Olivia was not late yet, not quite. The theatre tickets were in his inside jacket pocket and he felt for them, a nervous reassurance that they were still there.
As Harry watched for Olivia so another set of eyes silently watched Harry.
They saw and understood his nervous anticipation. The figure, like a gargoyle, crouched in the shadows on the stone stairway, watched and waited with hidden malevolent eyes peering from the hood of a dark sweatshirt.
Olivia could be heard before she was seen, veiled by the mist the sound of her heels on the stone cobbles came from the street below Harry's balcony. He knew instantly who it was, he could already recognise the cadence, the inflection of her step. Undoubtedly a woman's step, undoubtedly a specific woman. He strained to see her and so did the other watcher.
Jane saw Olivia before Harry did, her vantage point on the stone stair was closer than Harry's and she saw the approach of his mistress with a feeling of contempt. The woman was tall and elegant just as Jake Boyd had described. As she came into view Jane realised that she was even more attractive than she had imagined. A woman too beautiful, too self assured for her to compete with. But Jane knew that she had more to offer Harry than this bimbo did... Harry deserved better but it was too late now; he had missed his chance.
Emerging from the swirl of mist, the woman's elegance, her apparent easy confidence infuriated Jane. Jane watched as Harry waved to his mistress, imagined the dwell of eye contact that would draw them together. "It should be me coming to see Harry not this other woman." Jane thought. Olivia stopped for a moment and looked up to the balcony. Jane saw her natural elegance, her balanced poise. She saw the woman's smile that rested on Harry, the long glance of affection. Jane immediately saw how this woman had so easily, with her tall stilettos and stockinged legs, replaced her in Harry's affection. It would mean nothing to this woman with her god-given beauty to lead Harry away and make him her plaything. Jane saw the inevitability of it all; even as a teenager she had always been the plain girl, the one to accompany her attractive friends. She knew what would happen even back then, she would be overlooked as her attractive friend would slide under the arm of the handsome boy as if some natural order of the universe would be violated otherwise. Now it had happened again but as a grown woman, she would no longer stand idly and submit to the indignity.
Jane watched closely as the woman waved and called up to Harry.
"Not late am I?"
"No we still have time." There was a little amused half laugh in Harry's voice that infuriated Jane as she clung to the shadows.
Olivia started up the stairs again, her feet moving faster as if driven by some happy anticipation. What Olivia felt was simply the pleasure of being accepted as a woman by Harry. When she was with him it was as if a whole new universe had opened up for her. A universe where she had flourished and had so easily found love. As Olivia came closer, Jane drew back into the shadows listening to the clack of heels on the stone stairs. She could smell her perfume now as it drifted, haunting the air with its drowsy fragrance of jasmine and sandalwood. Jane could see the light from Harry's balcony window as it caressed the woman's long golden hair. Olivia turned her face and ran her fingers through her curls as the breeze lifted the delicate strands in the gentle night air. Something, a last flicker of her reason, told Jane to walk away, to draw back into the darkness and go home but she had gone too far now; there was to be no turning back. The weight of the knife in her shoulder bag seemed oppressive; she could feel its ominous call, hear it's whispered promise of revenge. It was only a kitchen paring knife but it was long enough and quite sharp enough; Jane had made sure of that. It's presence in her bag was no accident it was the culmination of a deliberate and yet irrational sequence of events that had finally drawn her here on this night.
Just a day ago Jane had been preparing her supper, slicing through a thick piece of bloody steak when the knife slipped and the mound of flesh by her thumb was cut. She watched transfixed as the blood dripped across the steak, blood onto blood and she imagined Harry's face, saw the knife twisting in his chest. The pain from the cut intensified the illusion until the scene became palpable, became an inevitability...
Now here she was, the heft of the kitchen knife was pulling her, tipping her beyond the edge of reason. The future was as inescapable as the easy power that Harry's mistress wielded over him. But Jane knew that Harry was not innocent in this, he was a man of the world, he should have sent the young woman away and returned to her, to Jane... It was Harry who would have to pay the price of his infidelity.
Jane's white fingers slipped into her bag and found the coldness of the knife's metal handle. It was waiting there whispering its seductive call as her fingers closed round it. She drew it out and as the blade was exposed to the night air, there was a momentary flash of reflected light against the honed steel. Jane quickly slipped it into the folds of her jacket, invisible again; such a small thing, prosaic, utilitarian yet its potential edged beyond the mundane into the world of insanity. The knife seemed to possess her with its unnatural weight, pressing down on her like a curse on her soul, turning her into an assassin.
Jane stood for a moment feeling the night close round her like a dark cloak. The mist was starting to lift and the thin crescent moon was reflected like a manic smile on the river. Even now she might have have turned away... The river's scent filled her nostrils while in the river's flow she could sense the shifting presence of the distant sea. She could almost see the dark serpentine monsters of myth that lay in the deep black salt water waiting for the innocents to venture too close – Jane shuddered.
Harry had moved from his balcony and was now on the stair watching his date approach. What would they be doing tonight? Jane wondered. She watched as the young woman took his arm and heard the stillness shatter by her carefree laughter that hung in the air like her frozen breath. Her long silk scarf trailed and lifted behind her as the pair turned and climbed back to the comforting warmth of Harry's home.
"Somewhere beyond that door is a room is waiting for them to quench their carnal desires." Jane thought. She felt a pang of envy as she watched their easy familiarity, understood what they would do together in the darkness. Jane stood immobile, a bitter silhouette carved from the bleakness. The night fell silent again and Jane edged her way up the cold stone steps following the two lovers. Here she stood, moments away from her revenge. There was a flutter of black wings as a pair rooks lifted from their perch into the air, They startled her, made her heart pound in her chest, but Jane was not distracted from her insane mission. She knew with the full certainty of a madwoman what she must do...
"I thought we might have a quick glass of wine before we set off... there should be time." Harry said.
"That sounds lovely... just a very small one for me."
"Red or white?"
"Mm... red I think, have you any of that Australian Shiraz left?"
"Yes I think so...It was rather good, I think I'll join you."
They moved together to the balcony, clinking their glasses and looked out across the Kingswood skyline.
"How was your day?" Harry asked.
"Well I had a lovely run this morning just as first light was breaking over the trees in the park. The dawn view across the park with little pockets of mist looked magical... I should have taken a photo. Then back to tedium... lectures as usual... I had a tutorial today which was surprisingly quite helpful... I have a paper to finish over the weekend."
"I'm glad my student days are over." Harry said.
"It's not so bad... but I have to say that looking forward to the theatre tonight was the best part of my day."
"Mine too... I did call in to see Julia at lunchtime, just a flying visit... We're invited to dinner on Sunday, I hope you'll be free because I've already accepted on your behalf."
"Have you?.. actually I think it's rather nice to be taken for granted... like a married couple." She added in a softness intended for Harry to not quite hear. "I should have finished my work by then and I would really love to see Julia and little Sophia again... you know I think over the past few weeks Julia has become the best friend I've ever had."
"What better than me?"
"Oh you're on my list of favourites... somewhere near the bottom." She laughed.
"Touché." Harry said and then turned his head as he heard a scrabbling sound outside his porched entrance.
"Sounds as if someone's out there." He said and with an intuitive need to be protective of Olivia told her to: "Wait here... It's probably nothing."
As he opened the latch the door burst open with a sudden violence that took Harry by surprise. He stepped back loosing his balance and stumbled.
"What is it?" Olivia called as she rushed out into the entrance hall. Before Harry could reply a flash of silver steel stabbed into Harry's chest and he fell heavily onto the ground.
Olivia instantly recognised her aunt Jane.
"Jane... what in God's name have you done." Her words seemed to freeze Jane and she looked up from the bleeding shape that lay contorted at her feet until she could see, face to face, the woman who had stolen her man from her.
"How do you know my name?" Jane spat as she advanced on the woman, the knife swiping left and right in violent arcs as if she were slicing the air to get to her.
"It's me aunt Jane... It's..." The almost forgotten name stuck in her throat. "it's me... Oliver... don't you know me?"
"Oliver?..." Jane was seized by a flux of emotions, she could barely understand what she was hearing. "You are Oliver... my nephew... It can't be true?"
"Yes, it's me... We need to help Harry... call for an ambulance."
Jane stumbled back as Olivia knelt down by Harry, pressing her hands against the wound in his chest trying to staunch the flow of blood. Harry was deathly white, a sheen of sweat lay cross his face and his breath came in short sharp gasps.
"What in God's name have you done Jane?"
Olivia lifted her eyes to her aunt. Jane could see Olivia's tears and the rising anger.
"Yes... my God I see it's you now Oliver... what have you done to yourself?... So... what?... you mean you are gay?"
"I'm not fucking gay you mad woman." Olivia screamed as her trembling fingers tried in desperation to hold back Harry's escaping blood. " If you had shown the slightest interest in me then I may have shared who I was with you by now."
"What are you then?"
"I'm a transgender woman."
Jane staggered back.
"You're a freak.... it was a freak who took my Harry away from me... Thank God my sister didn't live to see this, it would have broken her heart" Jane's eyes were wide, the whites showing as they flicked across the room. A strange twisted expression settled on her face as her troubled mind struggled with this new information.
"My mother knew all about my condition; she loved me, of course she knew. It was my mother and father who found me a kind doctor to help me become who I was born to be."
"No you're lying you freak..."
Jane continued to back away, she found herself against the glass door that opened onto the balcony.
"You should have told me about this perversion Oliver... Maybe I could have saved you."
"You have just stabbed Harry in his chest and you have the temerity to call me a freak?... If anyone in this room is a freak, it's you."
Olivia ran across to her where she had dropped her bag and found her phone.
"I've saved you from this man Oliver... you don't know who he is... he has a wife and child."
"No no no..." Olivia screamed as she knelt again at Harry's side, the blood seeping past the pressure of her fingers. "We both read your vile letter to Julia... Julia was the wife of Harry's best friend... When the poor man died Harry stepped up to help her... She was left with nothing. Harry is the kindest, most compassionate, the most moral man I have ever met."
"No that's not possible." Jane said her agitated mind no longer had the will to hold the knife and it fell tumbling from her hand and came to rest at Olivia's side. Olivia snatched it up and turned her face to Jane.
"No don't hurt me Oliver..."
"Get out of my sight Jane." Olivia screamed and turned back to Harry with a soft voice. "Don't leave me darling... I'll get help."
Olivia sobbed as she scrabbled with her phone dialling the emergency number while still holding the knife. She looked up to Jane and thought she saw a momentary flash of compassion, of sanity.
"Help me Jane, we need to stop the blood... I can see that I brought you to this act of madness... this is all my fault I see that now. I should have spoken to you before, and cleared up your misunderstanding. Jane help me... please."
Her attention was drawn back to her phone as the call was answered.
"Which service to you require?"
"Ambulance... please hurry a man's been stabbed... I think he's dying, there's blood everywhere please hurry... it's all my fault, my fault, I'm so sorry."
"Help is on the way Miss." The disembodied voice said into her ear.
"Please hurry..."
Jane lurched back suddenly understanding what she had done, what she had become. As her weight fell against the balcony door it burst open and Jane found herself in the cold night air. The freshness was sobering, chilling as she backed up against the chiselled stone railing away from the sight of the blood. When she tipped over there was no scream, no sound not until her body hit the glistening cobbled street below and crumpled in its own pool of scarlet. The moon watched Jane's watery eyes as they stared up into the sky. They were still open but saw nothing.
The blood dripped, Harry's eyes were closed now, the effort to hold them open beyond him. He seemed peaceful as Olivia lay her cheek against his, wetting his face with her tears. She pressed with her fingers but the blood still oozed as Olivia watched Harry's life flow away pooling red and glistening on the tiled floor.
In the stillness a lone dog barked somewhere across the city. It was an angry harsh sound that hung in the stillness until a siren echoed across the chill night air. Finally the flash of a blue light bounced on the wet cobbles. The blood still oozed through Olivia's fingers.
Chapter 6
The police arrived first, with the ambulance men close on their heels.
Olivia was still clutching the knife when the policeman crouched down at her side. He could see that she was no threat. Apparently the deed done she had collapsed into sobbing remorse. He pulled on rubber gloves and took the bloody knife from Olivia's fingers.
"I think I'd better take that." He said as he dropped the knife into an evidence bag. "Can you tell me anything about the dead woman under the balcony?"
"What?"
He could see that the woman was in no fit state to answer questions.
"Never mind, Miss." The man looked up to his colleague, a women police officer. "Take her out to the car Tamsin, she's in shock. They'll interview her back at the station, when she's had time to gather herself."
"OK... she doesn't look much like a murderer to me."
"Looks can be deceptive lass, you'll learn that when you get to my age."
The police woman pulled Olivia away from Harry as the ambulance team started to assess the situation.
"He's bleeding out, we need a line and fluids... this looks bad."
The last words that Olivia heard as she was led out down onto the street sent a cold numbness through her body:
"Call ahead to the hospital for a crash team... there's only a faint hope he's going to make it."
As they reached the ground floor Olivia could see where Jane's body had already been screened off. A group of detectives were making observations, a photographer was busy with his camera – just another day at the office.
"So a domestic dispute?" The policewoman said. "Or something more sinister?"
"I don't know... where are you taking me?"
"Well you'll be held in the cells until you are interviewed. It's pretty certain that you'll be charged with the stabbing."
"Charged...why?"
"Well, you can't go round stabbing people and expect not to end up in prison."
"But it wasn't me who did the stabbing."
"We've got your recorded confession from the emergency call you made."
"No... I think I said it was my fault... not that I had done the stabbing."
Olivia was now in a panic. Prison for a person like her would have been intolerable, she assumed they would hold her in a male facility once they discovered her genetic gender. The thought of all the indignities she would be subjected too suddenly overwhelmed her. The police woman released her grip on Olivia's arm for just an instant as she pulled her handcuffs from her belt.
"I thought you were accepting your guilt and were coming quietly. Just to be safe I'd better secure you until we get to the station."
"No... I'm totally innocent of the stabbing..."
"There's also the matter of the woman's death... now don't make things worse for yourself than they already are Miss."
Olivia suddenly saw how all this was going to play out. If... when... poor Harry died she would be the only suspect. She had been leaning over Harry clutching the knife when the police arrived. Olivia could only see a long sentence ahead of her, she had no way of proving her innocence and life in prison for her would be unbearable. It may not have been the wisest decision but driven by fear, Olivia pulled free of the police woman, pushed her away and ran.
She cast off her heels and ran barefoot across the cobbles and then over the wooden foot bridge that spanned the river. This was where she ran in the mornings and Olivia knew the area well. Along the tow path there was access to the park and following her across the thickly wooded area would be difficult for someone unfamiliar with the winding paths. She would eventually be able to cut across the narrow backstreets and get back to her studio flat. The policewoman had been overbalanced by Olivia's push and she tripped backwards ending up on the floor.
"Shit, shit... Come back this will not help you at all." She called as she headed off after the fleeing figure that was disappearing into the gloom.
"Assistance required..." She called into her radio. "The suspect, a woman early twenties in evening dress, is on foot heading towards the Blackwater Bridge on Cunliffe Street heading west. I'm in pursuit..."
As Olivia reached the park she could hear the heavy footfall of the policewoman as she crossed the bridge. She could also hear the siren of a car driving along Cunliffe Street at speed, the snarl of its revving engine and squealing tyres echoing from the river-side buildings. Olivia was gasping for air running faster than she ever had before. Her face was smeared with tears and blood as she ran across the night like a terrified animal hunted by a pack of hounds. Her chaser's footsteps seemed to be falling away as Olivia reached the winding path that crossed the area wooded with oak and ash, she was navigating by memory rather than sight. The path was softened by the carpet of leaves but the slipperiness caused Olivia to lose her footing as she turned a tight corner. She fell sprawling forward and rolled into a clearing. There were cuts on her arm from the fall and she stood unsteadily for a moment gathering her composure.
The car's siren told her that the driver had passed beyond where she intended crossing the road. If she could get to her flat across the back alley she would be safe at least for a while. They did not have her name and she assumed it would take a while to trace her from her phone which was still at Harry's home. The sudden thought of Harry made her gasp and sob, sinking to her knees she could not believe what had happened. It was supposed to have been a lovely night at the theatre and it had turned into a nightmare. In the distance she could hear the sound of the policewoman crashing through the undergrowth. It sounded as if she had gone the wrong way so Olivia started running again.
Car horns blared as Olivia avoided the traffic by the skin of her teeth as she crossed the road and made it to the secluded alleys. Covered by the darkness she finally made it to her flat. The spare door key was concealed in a cavity under a loose brick and Olivia let herself in. As the door closed behind her Olivia sank to her knees, her mind a frenzy of thoughts until a plan coalesced from the confusion. She took a quick shower, cleaned up her cuts and threw a few clothes, her bank card and some essentials into a bag. She dressed warmly in her student clothes and as calmly as possible ordered a minicab to take her to the station. She walked unsteadily down the stairs then remembered something precious and ran back up. On her bedside table nestled under her delicate stained glass Tiffany lamp was the copy of 'The Secret Rose' that Harry had bought for her. She took it in her trembling fingers and closing her eyes, lay her lips softly on the cover before sliding it into her bag.
She would go to Scotland, find some space and decide what to do. As a child her parents had taken her to stay at a small hotel that sat overlooking the loch at the village of Rannochbrae. Her childhood memories of the place were happy and it seemed a safe place to for her to consider what she was going to do. Olivia has evaded arrest and now she needed time. Time to mourn for Harry, time to try and understand what had driven Jane to her murderous act. Olivia had watched her fall from the balcony and even now she could not be sure if it was an accident or if in her despair she had meant to do it. Despite her anger towards her aunt, Jane was her dear mother's sister, she could not know that she died in such a way without feeling sadness for her – without in some way sharing the guilt of Jane's actions... if only she had talked to Jane maybe none of this would have happened.
Olivia took a train to Nottingham. Not because it was a place she knew but because it was a place she had never visited and the police would have no reason to look for her there. Close to the station in a rather run down area she took a room for the night in a small hotel. She had noticed a small cafe, 'a greasy spoon' called 'Spike's Place'. Although it was late she noticed it was still open and despite having little appetite, decided to get something to eat. Outside on the street there were a huddle of sex workers plying their trade. Some, she could tell were transgender like her and Olivia felt a solidarity with them and was strangely comforted by that. She smiled at one of the girls, she was not dressed for the weather, but rather to display her 'wares'. She looked cold and undernourished. As their eyes met she shyly returned Olivia's quiet smile.
"Would you like a coffee or something?" Olivia asked.
"I don't go with girls..." She replied.
"No I'm not looking for... Just coffee is all..."
"So what do you want?"
"I want nothing from you... you just look so cold... are you hungry?"
"Maybe... I guess you look genuine... I'm freezing my tits off out here."
They entered Spikes Place together and sat.
"So, you want something to eat? I'm going to have some eggs and toast."
"Yeah OK, you're a kind person I can see that... some toast would be nice."
Olivia went to the counter and placed her order.
"Make it extra eggs for the girl." She said.
"Coming up."
The man at the counter looked tough, not a man to get on the wrong side side of. He had a couple of day's stubble on his cheeks, a sinuous snake tattoo ran down his arm but Olivia thought he had kindly eyes.
"You're open late." Olivia said trying to distract herself from her own troubles.
"I like to stay open... you know for the girls... this is a safe place if they need one."
Olivia smiled at the man, he was certainly a rough and ready sort but the decent humanity flowed from him like a ray of sunshine.
Olivia sat down.
"I'm Olivia, what's your name?"
"I go by Chantelle."
"That's a pretty name."
"Thanks."
When the food came Chantelle ate greedily as if she hadn't eaten in a while, Olivia found her appetite was not strong and she let Chantelle finish her eggs
.
"Thanks for that Olivia, you're a good person, I guess a woman like you don't really know what it's like to be a girl like me but your kindness means more than I can say..." She looked towards the door and the dark unwelcoming streets that lay beyond the safety of Spike's Place. "I'd better get back."
A tear formed in the corner of Olivia's eye.
"Stay safe Chantelle." She said as she watched the girl's sad smile before she turned and left.
The man came over to her table.
"Anything else... more coffee?"
"Coffee, is that what you call it?... go on then another cup." Olivia said with a forced smile.
When he returned with the coffee he sat at the table facing her.
"They call me Spike." He said. "So what is it you want with the girls?"
"Nothing, I just felt sympathy for Chantelle standing out in the cold."
"You're not a journalist looking for a sleazy tabloid story?"
"Do I look like a journalist?"
"You could be..."
"Well I'm just a student passing through... you seem to be protective of the girls."
"Yeah, well I had this kid brother... Billy, he changed his name to Sharon. I guess he was my little sister really. Our dad threw him out when he was just sixteen and Sharon ended up on the streets... Things didn't end well for him... for her."
"I'm sorry."
"They fished her out of the Trent, raped and covered in bruises... that was ten years... twelve years ago now. So I do what I can for the girls, keep an eye on them; especially the trans girls like Chantelle... she's a sweet kid."
"I could see that Spike."
Olivia drank her coffee, her eyes had been opened and despite everything that had happened in the last few hours, she felt almost lucky... at least she had found love and acceptance, even if it had been fleeting. Olivia stood and pulled her jacket tightly round her.
"You're a diamond Spike... It's been an honour to have met you."
"Takes one to know one," he said. "be lucky girl... and just give thanks that you were born in the right body."
Olivia almost told him the truth but just smiled.
When she got outside Chantelle was nowhere to be seen, "maybe she had been picked up by a client", Olivia thought "I hope he'll be gentle with her."
Olivia felt sadness that the girls were forced by their circumstances to earn a living in that way. It was not a life she could understand nor want but in a few short hours Olivia's own life had gone from idyllic, with a bright future and hopes that Harry might finally invite her to move in with him to a sudden life of desperation where a life in prison or a life selling her body now seemed just as likely as any other.
In the morning Olivia slept through much of the long journey north. Suddenly startled into wakefulness by a strange urgent feeling of panic she blinked her eyes at the daylight that streamed though the carriage window. She could not explain the feeling, some kind of sixth sense but at that moment she felt with horrifying certainty that Harry had just died. She checked her watch it was 10:36 and the tears of desolation fell across her cheeks.
When Olivia finally arrived in Rannochbrae, it was already deep into the afternoon. On the long journey north she managed to pull together the strands of her composure together and had formulated a plan to become a boy again – to pretend to be a boy again, if only as a temporary measure until she could find a way forward. Although it went against everything she had strived for, to revert to being a boy made a perverse sense to her. The police were looking for a woman, as far as she knew no one in her new life was aware of her background so presenting as male again would give her some anonymity, some time to consider what she should do.
Although it drew her to the edge of tears, Olivia had her hair cut short... crew-cut short. She bought some men's jeans and a baggy sweater and changed in the public toilets before walking the familiar streets of Rannochbrae where nothing seemed to have changed since she was there as a child. Finally Olivia found herself entering the hotel that she had stayed in with her parents all those years ago.
She stood at the reception hoping they would have a room. The owner, a middle aged woman that Olivia recognised as Mrs McEwen, finally appeared. She seemed unchanged from a decade earlier but did not seem to recognise Oliver's features in her face.
"Hello, I was hoping you might have a room for a week or so."
"That will be no trouble at all... at this time of year we usually have vacancies. At the moment we only have one other family staying. Are you up for a holiday?"
"Sort of, I just need to get away for a while... I'm not sure how long..."
"Oh that's not a problem at all dear. If you don't mind me saying... you do look a little troubled Miss. Now, not to pry but let me guess is it boyfriend troubles?"
Olivia nodded.
"That's very astute of you." She could think of nothing more to say such was her shock at being called 'Miss' despite having her hair shorn and dressed as she was. It was clear now that the feminising effects of her treatment meant that, despite her own still fragile self-image, she was completely unable to pass as a boy any more. Only hours ago this revelation would have brought her joy but from the darkness of her present situation, Olivia could not imagine feeling joy or anything like it ever again.
"I thought so, well my dear you are very pretty and any sensible lad would be happy to have you on his arm. Now if you'll sign the register..."
There was no longer any point in signing in as Oliver or Jack or Bill so she put her own name but the address she carefully wrote in her neat hand, was a work of fiction.
"If I may say so... Olivia," Mrs McEwen said reading her name "I love your short hair; it gives you a rather vulnerable prettiness... like a pixie queen."
Olivia couldn't help the little laugh. A pixie queen was hardly the look she was going for. Maybe, she thought, a life could eventually be salvaged from this tragedy if she could find more kind people like Mrs McEwen and Spike to buffer the hardships.
Olivia dressed as a girl again, what else could she do? She bought a pink woollen bobble hat to keep her shorn head warm and spent the next days walking the moors and native woodlands, following the tracks that clung to the edge of the loch, disappearing into the mist and finding a glimmer of hope in her solitude. If the weather was fine, she would take 'The Secret Rose' and transport herself to where she could catch glimpses of a happy place by dipping into the poems. She might find a sheltered sunny spot and watch the fishing ospreys flirting with the air currents while the constant sound of the loch waters lapped on the shore.
Olivia made friends with Terry and Alice Spencer and their nine year old son Billy whom she shared the small hotel with; as the only guests, they would often eat together in the evenings. Billy seemed drawn to Olivia and his parents were happy to let him tag along when she went on one of her walks. It delighted her to hear him call her 'aunt Olivia' and felt undoubtedly maternal feelings of protectiveness towards him as he quietly snuggled up to her and snoozed at her side in the late afternoon sun. She learned that Billy had told his mother that 'aunt Olivia was very pretty but very sad'. When Alice told Olivia this she was a little shocked as she had tried hard to hide her troubles from the family and especially from Billy.
"If there is something you'd like to talk about... I'm a good listener." Alice said as they sat together by a crackling open fire one evening.
"It's kind of you Alice... I have something to face in the near future and I'm building up my fortitude to be able to deal with it. Just at the moment I'm enjoying the peace that I find on the moors... In fact I'm finding some quiet contentment up here away from it all in Rannochbrae."
"It's good to hear that but if there's anything I can do Olivia, just ask; you've been so kind putting up with Billy."
"I'm very fond of him, it's a pleasure to have him around; he's a very bright little boy."
Nothing more needed to be said and the two women, each lost in their own thoughts, watched the dance of the flames licking round the glowing logs as their eyes grew heavy.
It was almost two weeks since the attack on Harry; Olivia and Billy were sitting by the loch after taking a long walk around the winding rocky track.
"Mum says she thinks you have boyfriend trouble." He said with the unselfconscious candour of a nine year old.
"Oh does she?"
"She says you should talk to him... you can use my phone if you want to call him." He offered her his mobile.
Olivia smiled... if only she could. There was no one left to talk to... Except maybe Emma and her mother... or of course Julia. Olivia had no phone but she did have Julia's number. Olivia kept a written note of names, addresses, email numbers and phone numbers of all the significant people in her life. She wrote them in a small red notebook which was in her bag. It had been what her mother had done and was a habit she had copied.
"So OK maybe there is someone I might like to call... may I borrow your phone then Billy?... I'll buy you an ice-cream when we get back to Rannochbrae."
Billy smiled as he handed her his phone...
"Julia it's me Olivia..."
"Where have you been Olivia? We've all been so worried. Harry's been going out of his mind."
"Harry... Oh... is he alright?"
"He's been out of hospital for a week now... It was touch and go for a while, he lost so much blood that they had to resuscitate him on the Saturday morning after the stabbing."
"On Saturday..." Olivia's mind ran back to the Saturday morning when she had taken the train up to Scotland. "I don't suppose you know what time on Saturday?"
"I'm not exactly sure about mid morning I think... why?"
"I had a strange premonition... I guess it's not important."
"Listen Olivia, Harry has explained everything to the police... they would like to talk to you, take a statement, but the police are now confident that you had nothing to do with the stabbing or Jane's death... In fact they have been concerned about your safety. They apologised to Harry for scaring you into running off."
"This is the best news I could have hoped for... I'm so relieved Julia; I was certain that Harry had died. I thought that I was the only suspect, I could see nothing in my future but a life in prison."
"You poor darling... Look where are you?"
"I came up to Scotland to a little place my family used to stay at when I was little."
"Scotland... I was going to offer to come and find you."
"No don't even think of that Julia, I'll get the next train back."
"OK darling... Harry's recuperating at a his second cousin's country home. It sound grander than it actually is but its a peaceful place where he can find some quiet country air to get his strength back... What he really needs to make a full recovery is you back at his side."
"Does he?"
"You know he does, anyone can see that you two were born to be together... no point in fighting against fate."
"There's nothing to keep me away now Julia... do you have the address of his second cousin?"
"I sure do... hold on..."
"Julia will you do me a favour... I'd like to surprise Harry, will you hold off telling him I'm coming."
"OK Poppet but I'll be bursting until you get there."
"Love you Julia."
"Me too... Oh and Sophia sends her love."
"Give her a kiss from me."
It was late evening and Harry was sitting in a wheelchair watching the last filtered rays of the sun as it sank behind the hills. He was dressed for the autumn air and had a blanket across his knees. His thoughts, as they had for the past weeks, were never far from Olivia. She was the only woman he had ever really loved, possibly the only woman he could ever really love. He felt in his pocket for the one thing of hers that he still had. It was soft in his fingers as drew out the silk rose that Olivia had given him. He held it delicately unless it should fall to pieces in his fingers. As he held it he could still smell the last fugitive trace of her perfume on the rose.
Olivia had the right address she was certain of that, though she seemed somehow to have found her way to the long slope of the back garden. Surrounded by farmland, the garden stretched up from the softly flowing brook that edged the lower slopes of the property. Olivia's eyes lifted, past rose and magnolia bushes to the old red brick home that had settled comfortably over the generations until it had become part of the landscape. There was a long spread of manicured lawns to cross and Olivia increased her pace as she passed through the creaking garden gate that gave access to the brook. As the sun sank, the grass was already sparkling with fine drops of dew. Faster she walked until she could see in the dimness a seated figure and Olivia knew with all the certainty of a woman in love who it was. Unable to hold back she broke into a faltering run. With her soft dress flowing behind her and the low sun coppering her cheeks she ran to the man she loved. A soft wind from the east moved across the gardens carrying her hastily dabbed splash of scent in its curling currents. A flush of sparrows lifted into the air startled by her long shadow as she was drawn towards her future.
Harry's eyes had softly closed, the cool evening air filled his nostrils, now the ghost of Olivia's perfume seemed more than a memory, a delicate trace of Gucci Bloom rode on the air and made him lift his eyes. The silk rose was still held delicately in his fingers as he looked beyond the magnolias down towards the line of the bottom fence. There he saw a running figure – an angel... but it was no angel it was his very own silk rose made flesh again. He struggled to lift himself from the chair and felt for the first time since his stabbing, a surge of energy. The return of his old strength summoning itself now that there was a reason to recover. The scent that had woken him from his morbid slumber was her scent, Olivia's and through the blur of his tears he finally saw her face. There she was, come home to him and his heart sang. It sang the same song that Olivia's heart sang as she ran now with all her speed to his arms.
Olivia no longer had any doubts. She was a true woman, forged anew in the fires of heartbreak. Here was her beloved man with arms outstretched for her... for her.
The End
The world had recently emerged from the tribulation of the Great War that had cast its dark shadow across Europe. Peace and a feeling of confidence had once more sprung up across England. The twenties were a new era where hedonism seemed to have taken hold as the pendulum of social norms reached towards a more modern era. This all coincided with my own emergence from the chrysalis of childhood into a, some may say, precocious young adult of seventeen years. Too young to have been troubled directly by the war, I was born to indulgence as the swinging twenties gripped the spirit of the times. Not my real name, I was usually called Buntie. Legend has it that it was my sister Emma who had first coined the name 'Buntie' for me while I was still a babe in arms. Emma hotly denies the accusation but somehow the name stuck.
My father Lord James Fitzgerald was a viscount and had died when I was still very young; I'm sure our household would have been very different had he survived the atrocities of Ypres. To my elder sister Emma and myself, our father had been a rather distant man and I hardly retained any memory of him; it may be considered callous of me but his loss was seen by Emma and myself as an almost abstract sadness. We could appreciate the tragedy and futility which we expressed with our own tears but we could not quite feel his absence as a loss. It was merely the continuation of the status quo. My father was noted by his long absence from our lives and now that situation had simply become a permanence.
His younger cousin Ernest, also a Fitzgerald, lived with us and was involved in some business enterprise in the city. The details of his working life were a complete mystery to me. Ernest was twenty years younger than my father and only fifteen years older than myself. Throughout my life he had always been a presence of stability in the house. But in no way did he represent a father figure to Emma and myself. He roamed the household more in the guise of a mildly eccentric elder brother. I must confess that, in light of my 'situation', I rather had something of a childhood crush on Ernest; he was frightfully easy to tease and very forgiving of my often infantile sense of humour.
You may wonder what I mean by 'my situation'; I will come to that presently. In fact let me expose what I refer to with a discussion of a dinner party that was held in my honour on the event of my seventeenth birthday.
The servants had prepared a wonderful birthday feast for me and I had taken the opportunity to officially reveal to everyone a side of me that had hitherto been restricted to a shadowy existence. Emma and Ernest were already familiar with my situation as indeed were, I imagine, much of the household staff. Cajoling our young parlour maid Lizzy into being my unofficial 'ladies maid' meant that many of the 'below stairs' entourage would have suspected my secret. Only my mother and my grandfather were ostensibly in the dark. My grandfather was from my mother's side of the family. Now deep into his seventies he was sometimes apt to show a measure of bewilderment these days. Maude, my grandfather's second wife, had rather colluded with me in my little out-coming adventure. She was a gorgeously fun loving woman with a wicked sense of humour. She had apparently been a stunning beauty in her youth. Still in her mid forties, I took Maude to be an ally. She had seen the exotic during her years in India and nothing seemed to trouble her composure.
I had chosen to wear a rather disreputable, if decorously fashionable, outfit in which to make my announcement. I would make my grand entrance when my family were all at table. I chose to wear a tight fitting fringed flapper dress, very fashionable among the more scandalous girls at the time. I wore my hair in a newly cut 'bob' with a string of pearls around my notably elegant slender neck. Tall heels and dark silk stockings made my legs look divinely sexy, if rather immodest. But it was my special day and caution had been thrown to the wind. I wore smouldering dark eye make-up, crimson lips and my nails were lacquered in a matching shade of varnish. The finishing touch to my outfit was a rather ostentatiously long cigarette holder which was de-rigour among the fashionable floozies of the day. You may wonder if I had intended to shock my mother with this getup – Well naturally I did.
The family were all seated and my lovely elder sister Emma tapped the side of her glass with a fork.
"Buntie wishes to make a rather formal entrance this evening." A little nervous laugh tinkled from her throat. "As it is Buntie's birthday I think we should allow her this moment of indulgence no matter how shocking you may find it."
From the seclusion of the hallway I heard my mother groan; I suspect she had guessed what was to come. But I was undeterred; it had taken until the start of my 18th year for me to gather the courage for this and there was no going back now.
Emma wound up the gramophone and started playing a shellac recording of some fashionable dance band music. At this signal I made my entrance, smiling and dancing to the shockingly modern syncopated jazz.
"Good god what's this?" My grandfather said. He had been brought up to stand whenever a lady entered the room and with Ernest mirroring his chivalrous actions, he raised himself with some effort from his seat.
"Oh no Buntie." My mother sighed. By contrast Maude and Emma clapped with enthusiasm.
"Buntie this is absolutely no way for a seventeen year old to behave." Mother said. "Especially not a seventeen year old boy."
"Mother," I said "Do you really think I look like a boy?"
There was no answer other than a raise of exasperated eyes to the ceiling. I circled round the table and kissed my grandfather on his cheek. I'm not sure that he was at all certain who I was.
"Gentlemen please sit." I said and watched as the two men took their seats. I then moved across to my mother.
"Haven't you always know about this darling?" I said.
"Of course I knew; I thought you might grow out of it if I just ignored it."
"Have you grown out of being a woman?"
"That's entirely different Buntie."
"Let's just enjoy the party," I said "Now that it's in the open we can talk about it later."
The music was ended now and Emma shut down the player, she held her hands out to me and I sat beside her.
"Just who is she?" My grandfather asked Maude as the entrée was being served.
"It's Buntie darling, you remember, your youngest grandchild."
"Ah yes, pretty little thing." he said in what I took to be an attempt to disguise his capricious memory.
By the time dinner was over I was in high spirits. Possibly from having sneaked rather more sips of wine than a seventeen year old probably should. Despite my rather lively appearance, the evening had been resting rather worrisomely on my young shoulders; now that my official outing was over without quite unleashing the catastrophe that it might have done, a sense of relief and euphoria had gripped me.
"Lets all go dancing." I said suddenly seized by a desperation to not let the evening pass too quickly. "I believe there's a dance at the village hall tonight; Jack could drive us down."
Jack Chambers was our chauffeur. Still young he had the bearing of the 'strong silent' type, stoic and a little unapproachable.
"Oh yes." Maude clapped. "Let's go dancing."
"Darling do you really intend going dressed like that?" Mother said to me.
"Oh I know my get up is a rather tarty for a nice young woman but it's just a bit of fun for my birthday; I promise I'll dress like a good girl starting tomorrow."
"Oh Buntie you'll drive me to distraction; what will start tomorrow is a very serious discussion..." She looked across the room at the faces eager to go to the dance. "Very well, go if you must but I don't feel up to dancing; you young ones go." Mother turned her eyes to Ernest. "You must keep your eye on my... my girls Ernest, keep them safe."
"Have no fear Pamela; it's only a village dance."
I burst open the French windows with a little squeal of the hinges and we all tumbled out into the night air. How fresh and calm it felt, chill and sharp and pregnant with promise. It was just the four of us: Ernest, Maude, Emma and myself who were tucked into the Daimler by Jack. It was a frosty evening, already past nine, but sweet Jack treated us with gentle care wrapping us together in a cocoon of woollen blankets as we snuggled shoulder to shoulder in the back of the car.
"Don't spare the horses Jack." Emma giggled as our chauffeur pulled down the driveway that wound through our manicured grounds to the main road.
When we arrived at the dance, the Village Hall was buzzing with music and jostling dancers. There were coloured lights hung across the entrance and across the balustrade. With the bright starlit sky and a hint of frost in the air, the whole scene was magically romantic. I pulled Jack's arm "Come and dance with me." I said.
"I can't, its not my place... er."
"You can call me Miss Buntie." I said to my lovely shy chauffeur.
"Thank you Miss, but it's not really my place."
"It is if I order you." I insisted.
"Is it an order Miss?"
"Don't you want to dance with me? Is that it; do you find me offensive?"
"Oh no Miss, beg pardon, quite the opposite. With all due respect to Miss Emma you are the prettiest girl here."
I took the bashful man by his hand and dragged him onto the dance floor among the whirling young men and their laughing girls and we had a lovely time together before he begged my permission to withdraw. Ernest had been watching me and I walked over to him. He was drinking a glass of beer. I took it from him and sipped at the foamy brew; it was not really to my taste far too bitter. I screwed my nose and handed the glass back.
"Would you like something from the bar?" He asked.
"What have they got?" I asked.
It's mostly beer but there's what appears to be rather watery orangeade and some sort of devilish punch.
"I'll have some devilish punch please Ernest... If I may... and Ernest thank you so much."
"What ever for?"
"For being nice... and supporting me at dinner... and looking after us tonight."
Ernest just smiled at me and disappeared to the bar. I found an old wooden chair and took a seat away from the crowds. The streamers and lanterns and coloured lights that had been hung with gay abandon had transformed the village hall into a dreamscape. Stupidly I had not brought a wrap and as I cooled down from the dancing I felt a chill across my bare shoulders; there may have been a noticeable shiver as I watched Ernest easing his way back across the dance floor.
"Here take my jacket." Ernest said and in a graceful sweep slipped it off and drooped it over my shoulders. It felt warm and comforting, the worsted carried the scent of after shave and tobacco as I tucked myself into its embrace. Ernest gave me my drink; it was sweet and quite strong. I had already drunk far too much at dinner but sipped delicately at its sweetness anyway.
Across the dance floor I could see Emma being mercilessly twirled around by one of the village boys and Maude clutched in the embrace of Colonel Peters the master of the hounds. My eyes fell back to my sister; she was laughing and sparkling, I thought she felt almost as joyously alive and reborn as I did. When I had had enough of the rather sickly sweet punch, I took Ernest's hand and pulled him to his feet.
"Aren't you going to ask me to dance?" I said as I leaned up on my heels and kissed his cheek.
"Oh yes, yes of course. Would you care to dance Miss Buntie?" He said with an ostentatious bow and a devilish twinkle in his eye.
"I thought you'd never ask." I said with a rather mischievous giggle.
Ernest proved to be a divine dancer; light on his feet, he guided my inexperienced yet enthusiastic steps across the floor with masterful delicacy. I felt at ease with him in control; I felt I could just float along beside him with no care in the world being guided and protected by his strong arms. We swirled back to our seats out of breath and I pulled Ernest's jacket across my shoulders again, a swathe of warmth and safety.
"You should dance with Aunt Maude." I said.
"Not up for the Foxtrot?"
"I need to catch my breath darling. But Ernest, I'll definitely save the last waltz for you."
It was then that I saw Tom. He had recently come to work at the Fitzgerald Estate as a stable lad. I had spoken the odd word to him a few times when I was out wandering among the rhododendrons and found him to be surprisingly well spoken and well educated for someone in his rather lowly position. He seemed to me to be maybe a little reserved but very nice.
I fixed my eyes on him willing him to turn his head in my direction. Of course he eventually did and seizing the moment, I smiled across the room at him. Even across the distance I could see him blush as he returned my smile. I waved him over and I could sense a little reluctance as he made his way across the dance floor and stood before me.
"Tom, it's so nice to see you here, are you with anyone?"
"No... I..."
"You are shocked to see me dressed like this?"
"I am a little... I don't know what I should call you."
"Just call me Buntie... Miss Buntie if you feel the need to be more formal."
"Yes Miss Buntie then."
"Won't you ask me to dance?" I said.
"Well... yes Miss I would love to." He said.
As he took my hand we drifted across the floor together, both of us clumsy and ill practised at dancing. We laughed as we collided with a gyrating Maude and Ernest almost sending them crashing into a table piled with cakes and sandwiches. As our dance came to an end, I felt that Tom's discomfort with me was easing and I was reluctant to let Tom's hand go; there was something about the blueness of his eyes that seemed captivating. Nevertheless we inevitably drifted apart; I watched him walk across the room and then turn to look at me one more time. I'm not sure that he saw my lips mouth the 'thank you' that I sent to him across the dance floor.
It was after midnight before the band announced the final dance of the evening. I felt elated, accepted finally for who I was and mellow beyond belief as I melted into Ernest's arms for the last waltz. When all was done, the lights dimmed and the band fallen silent, we stood once more under the sky unwilling to let the magic of the night drift away too soon. In the large square there were loitering couples, dallying, embracing, shrunk up under the cover of the trees; so silent, so absorbed in each other, that I had to turn my eyes away as if I was intruding into some sacred and eternal ceremony that I longed to be a part of.
We found Jack back at the car shivering in the cold.
"Oh you poor man," I said "you should have stayed with us at the dance or at least got inside the car."
"I'm fine Miss Buntie." he said.
"Oh Jack, you are so much more than just fine." I lightly touched the sleeve of his jacket and watched as a whisper of colour returned to his cheeks. So thus, if you also count the young butcher's assistant who cheekily asked me to dance and got more than he expected, then I had flirted with four rather lovely men that evening. Of them all, it was just one who seemed to twine himself into the fabric of my mind so that I could not close my eyes without seeing his face,
I was still bubbling with excitement as I woke and stretched my arms up to welcome the new day. Not for the first time I had slept in one of Emma's pretty night dresses and I slipped from the warmth of my bed expecting to be able to finally say farewell to William, the boy that I had once been. Emma and I had selected some things from her wardrobe for me to borrow. I hoped that I would soon be allowed to use Mother's accounts and buy my own wardrobe from the shops that she and Emma frequented on Bond Street. The thought sent a shiver of excitement down my back.
What I normally wore as I roamed around the Estate was a pair of riding jodhpurs and a baggy sweater. These were non gender specific and, I felt did not define me as either a boy or a girl. I did from time to time push the boundaries and added a little feminine touch such as a pretty silk scarf which usually went unnoticed and normally drew no comment from my family. What I had dared to wear for my party was a rather extreme demonstration of the girl that lived inside me. However what Emma and I had chosen for my first day as a declared woman was a far more demure outfit and showed the real me. I slid into a pair of silk stockings attaching them to my suspender belt as if it were second nature. Then a pair of silky panties and a long slip. I wore a slim fitting, calf length black skirt and a lacy full sleeve blouse buttoned up to the neck. With my hair brushed to a sheen, a trace of make-up and a long string of jade beads, I felt that I had hit the sort of balance that I wanted. Feminine but modest; maybe the look of a young librarian or an infant's school teacher. I slipped my feet into a pair of dear Emma's moderate heeled court shoes and emerged from my room happy but nervous.
Wishing that Emma might have come to my room to offer a little moral support, I walked down the stairway into the Great Hall to the swish of my silk stockings. Through the open doors of the Morning room, I could see my Grandfather sitting with his nose buried in 'The Times'. He was still dressed for outdoors, his ancient elm walking stick by his side. He had clearly recently returned from his morning walk in the grounds. Jasper our spaniel lay still panting and muddy pawed at his feet. As I approached, Jasper's tail started its involuntary beating against the floor. It was enough to alert Grandfather to my presence. He looked up over the top of his newspaper and with a flick of his fingers invited me to come over. As I walked towards him he patted the seat beside him on the sofa.
I sat next to him him and kissed his cheek snuggling up to him as I had done when I was little.
"How are you today Grandfather?" I said.
"I'm rather well today. Sometimes the old memory gets a little clouded but a bracing walk down to the lake sends those cobwebs scattering."
I pulled myself closer to him and lay my cheek against his shoulder.
"So Buntie... You've decided to become a girl eh?"
I adored my Grandfather and hoped that this would not trouble him.
"I've always been a girl Grandfather." I said "It's just my body that had different ideas."
He nodded and took my hand.
"Don't tell dear Emma I said so but you have always been the prettiest of my grandchildren. I always knew you were different."
"You don't mind?" I said.
"I've lived long enough to know, my dear child, that all that matters in this world is love. I will love you no matter what. The fact is you make a damn fine girl. I can't really imagine you ever growing into a man."
I felt the urge to burst into tears but my composure was saved by the appearance of Aunt Maude. I called her 'aunt' for want of a better term – just what do you call your grandfather's second wife who is the same age as your Mother? Grand-step-mother? – I hardly think so. Maude bent down and kissed her husband before straightening his errant tie. She turned to me with a smile.
"Now you look more demure today Buntie, very pretty."
"Thank you, last night's outfit was a little provocative I know."
"I suspect there was method in your madness; you probably want to present your mother with a less alarming prospect this morning."
"How well you know me Aunt Maude." I said.
"Actually there is news on that front: Lady Pamela is waiting for you in the breakfast room. I believe she has something important to say to you."
"Oh I'd better go and see what she wants."
"Buntie darling, don't expect too much from her just yet... Allow her some time."
Aunt Maude's words did nothing to ease my nervousness as I trotted along the hall. However my fingers were optimistically crossed in the hope that my Mother had at least opened the door a crack into accepting that I was a girl and she would help rather than hinder the struggle I was embarking upon to meet my destiny.
I opened the heavy oak door to the breakfast room and found my Mother alone. A half empty cup of coffee sat before her. There were still eggs and sausages being kept warm over the spirit burners. Still a mound of toast uneaten with butter and marmalade in little silver dishes.
As my mother lifted her eyes to me I could see the disappointment in her eyes. My appearance clearly did not meet with her approval and a cloud fell over me.
"Come in and get some breakfast; we need to talk."
I took a glass of orange juice and sat at the table opposite my mother feeling her gaze burn into me.
"Is that all you intend having?" She said.
"I'm not actually very hungry."
"No, I imagine not." She took another mouthful of coffee and pulled a face. "The damn stuff's gone cold waiting for you."
I didn't really feel I could be blamed for that and did not respond.
"William this freakish behaviour of yours simply has to stop. Do you hear me?"
The name 'William' stung me like slap in the face. I stared at her unable to form any words. It seemed suddenly and painfully apparent that the optimism in which I had woken was ill founded.
"I intend getting Ernest to take you into town to get you a hair cut in a style that is more suitable for a young gentleman. You can return those clothes to Emma and I shall be having stern words with her for encouraging this nonsense."
"It's not Emma's fault." I said "Don't you see I am just not a boy, not in any way that counts. Even Grandfather agrees."
"Does he indeed. William your grandfather is not the man he used to be, we all love him dearly but the years have left him with a tendency to confusion and his opinion can not be taken seriously."
"Why do you hate me so much Mother?" I could see that my accusation had hurt her and that little place where my heart lived felt sorrow for that but my disappointment and anger were the stronger of my emotions.
I ran from the room across the hall to the main entrance doors and heaving them open I raced down the ancient stone steps across the lawns until I was out of breath. I turned back and saw that Mother had followed me. She had stopped by the great Oak gathering her breath. I did not want another confrontation and headed along the lake edge and then up towards the stables. Persephone my chestnut pony was stabled there and I always found a sense of calmness when I spent time in her gentle company. The sweet smell of hay on her breath and the musk of her sweat had always been like a balm to my troubled soul. As I rounded the corner of the stable yard, a little unsteady in Emma's shoes, I ran headlong into Tom sending his wheelbarrow full of horse dung and straw across the freshly hosed cobbled yard.
"I'm sorry I'm sorry." I gasped and then, unable to help myself, collapsed into tears. Tom opened his arms for me saying nothing he just held me tight until my sobs had stopped.
"Do you think I'm a freak?" I gasped.
"A freak? No I don't think so... I find you pretty and likeable... I might even be attracted to you if you..."
"If I was not a boy." I said.
"I have no wish to offend you but I only like girls in that way."
"Of course you do Tom... The fact is, inside this body I am a girl."
I sniffed away my tears. I had discovered from Emma that Tom, second name Chatsworth, was 20 and had clearly had a decent education, he was strongly built and as handsome as I imagined Heathcliff from Wuthering Heights to be; as far as anyone knew he was still unattached. But more than that, he was filled with a natural kindness that flowed from every pore of his being. If only he could see the girl inside me.
"Don't I look like a girl?" I said.
"Yes you do, and a very pretty one. Even if you were a real girl, I still don't see us as social equals."
"And if I was a real girl and we were social equals?" I prodded.
"Well if you were a scullery maid then I'd probably ask you to Marry me in a second." His words were spoken with a soft self effacing laugh and I wished, just for a precious moment, that they had been spoken seriously. I wanted to open myself up to him, tell him of my troubles but somehow the words would not come. Instead I blurted out something off topic:
"So just what is an educated man like you doing working as a stable lad?"
"Well that's a long story but in essence, I simply need the money."
"Someday I'll get you to tell me the story... but I must not hold you up. Thank you for being kind to me Tom."
As I turned to go, he caught me by my arm.
"Before you go... I'm know it's not my place but... I saw something the other day and thought of you."
"Go on."
"Wait there a minute will you?" Tom disappeared into the tack room where the saddles and bridles were kept and emerged with a newspaper. It was not one we took at the house. "I saw this article, I don't want to speak out of turn but your situation is well known by the staff and, well most of us, have the greatest sympathy for you." He thrust the tabloid newspaper into my hands. It had been folded to highlight a brief account of an American soldier who had been medically transformed into a woman. There were before and after pictures. The soldier in question looked like any normal man but the woman he had become was quite beautiful. "I just wanted you to know that you are not lone in the world there are others like you and now, it seems, medical science has found a way to help.
"May I keep this?" I said.
"Yes, of course... I found it a few days ago and kept it for you but the opportunity didn't arise until now."
"That's so thoughtful of you Tom." I said and rested my hand on his arm.
"I must get on..." He said and I could sense his discomfort. Undeterred I took the opportunity to snatch a brief kiss of thanks on Tom's cheek and suddenly felt a little optimism creep back and start to brighten my sadness. I turned and ran back to the house. Mother was no where to be seen so I ran up to Emma's room. She was sitting on her window seat writing a letter.
"I heard that things didn't go well with Mother." She said as she placed her silver fountain pen down and held her arms out for me. I sank into her comforting embrace.
"Don't give up darling, I'm sure Mother will come round. Just give her a little time."
"I don't know, she wants Ernest to take me into town and get all my lovely hair shorn off."
"Oh Buntie, after we got it looking so pretty."
"She hates me, I know it."
"No I don't think so... She has spoken to me about you and she is so worried about what will become of you. What she's doing is because she loves you; it may be misguided but she doesn't hate you Buntie."
"She called me William." I said as if it were a crime to call your son by his given name. Emma hugged me and as she did Tom's folded newspaper that I had been clutching fell from my fingers onto the floor.
"What's this?" She said.
Brightening a little I picked up the paper and showed her the article.
"This is so interesting, you must show it to Ernest maybe he can find out more about this."
"Do you think he might?"
"Ernest adores you, of course he will do his best to help you." She stood up and took my hand. "I think Ernest is still in the drawing room, lets go and see him now."
We found him where Emma had left him, he was riffling through an avalanche of business papers with what appeared to be little enthusiasm.
"Ernest, read this." Emma called as she thrust the newspaper in front of his astonished face. It took him several minutes to fully digest what he had read.
"This is very interesting Buntie but you must accept that this particular rag is not known for its journalistic integrity. It might just be some sensationalist invention."
"Oh don't say that, is there any way you might find out if it's really possible to intervene medically in that way?"
"Well I was up at Oxford with a very clever chap who was studying medicine. He's actually built up quite a reputation as a top notch gynaecologist these days. If anyone knows about this sort of thing then he will."
"Will you speak to him Ernest?" I said.
"Yes I will, but I have to warn you that your mother has rather put her foot down on this issue. She's asked me to take you into town to get you a haircut and get you measured for a couple of decent suits."
"She told me." I said, then placing my hand on his arm: "Darling Ernest you won't do that will you?"
"We may have no choice Buntie but I'll try to delay things as long as possible."
"I made my best effort to look respectable and demure this morning and Mother was just horrified at how I looked; you might think she would have some sympathy for me."
"Buntie my dear child, you may ultimately have to come to terms that your future lies with you adapting to life as a boy again."
I could feel my eyes flooding with tears.
"I think I'd rather be dead." I said and ran to my room where I collapsed on my bed.
I managed to avoid my Mother for the rest of the morning. Skipping lunch I slipped back outside into the calming tranquillity of the grounds, For some reason I found myself drawn back towards the stables. I found Mr Moffat the man in charge of our horses. He was a kindly man and must have been almost the age of my grandfather but was still capable of putting in a good days work. He had a natural affinity with the horses, his simple presence could take away the flared nostrils and trembling legs of the most nervous and highly strung thoroughbred. He had much the same effect on me. He looked up with his kindly eye as I approached.
"Hello Mr Moffat," I said as I kicked at a few loose strands of straw to avoid the interrogation of his all seeing eyes. "I was hoping to run into Tom."
"Ah... Were you now... the handsome Tom Chatsworth. Now don't you go breaking that lad's heart Miss Fitzgerald, he's been through a lot just lately." I adored the fact that he had called me 'miss' without my having to suggest it... if only my mother could be as understanding.
"I have no intention of breaking anyone's heart," I said indignantly. "I just find myself happy in Tom's company."
Mr Moffat smiled and then chuckled which made me giggle in embarrassment.
"Funny you should talk about young Tom... In fact he has been asking about you just lately, just in that quiet way the lad has."
"About me? What did he want to know?"
"Well I'm guessing he was interested to discover any romantic connections you might be involved in."
"There is absolutely no one... especially considering my situation which you are fully aware of."
"That's what I told him, he didn't seem to take the news badly."
"Really? So where may I find him?"
"He's taken Lady Pamela's grey mare Lucina down to the bottom meadow. She's due to foal in a day or so and a little peace and quiet will do her the world of good."
"I'll see if I can find him then. Thank you Mr Moffat..." I turned to leave but saw his eyes still resting on me. I braved another question: "Mr Moffat... do you think it would be wrong for someone like me... to form a romantic connection with a man."
"I've seen many things in my life that have churned my stomach... the way supposedly decent folk treat each other... All I know is young miss, that there can never be anything wrong with love as long as it's given truly. No matter what the Church or the outdated morals that them arrogant one eyed men in Parliament choose to saddle us with; to my thinking, if two people have love for each other then they'll get my blessing all day long... All day long I say."
His words nestled in my heart and made me smile. I headed down past the hollow where the massed willows were already turning to their green splendour. Climbing the gentle rise I reached the fence that edged the bottom meadow. I could see Tom; he seemed to be talking to my mother's mare and she nuzzled the palm of his hand as he fed her a carrot. I don't know why but my heart seemed to lurch in my chest as he turned, by some instinct, in my direction.
There was hard work in the job that Tom had taken, there can be no denying that, but there was also a simple contentment, a peaceful existence in living among these most generous of creatures. Tom patted the mare and then marched briskly up the gentle slope towards me with the mare following as if she too craved Tom's company.
"Hello Tom,' I said "I hope I'm not interrupting your work."
"No Miss... would it matter if you did?"
"My mother might think so." I said. Tom did not reply he simply nodded as if he, by some strange instinct, knew everything there was to know about me and even so still chose not to avoid my company.
"Mr Moffat warns me that I should not go breaking your heart." I said. There was still no reply just a quiet smile. "I don't want to make you uncomfortable Tom... just tell me to go away if you like... But I'd like to be your friend... if you could tolerate being friends with someone who dresses like a girl."
"After reading that newspaper article, I can understand that your your feelings are real. I know that you believe that you are a girl inside."
"So?"
"I like you as a person... If I'm honest I've already started to think of you as a girl. I don't really know what you want from me. My life has been shattered recently and I don't think I could stand to be hurt any more. Mr Moffat might be right... about my heart."
Tom was young and strong but beneath that veneer I saw a fragility that made me want to hold him tight in my arms.
"Tell me about your past Tom, I want to know all about your troubles." I said. He seemed reluctant to speak of his past at first but after a little gentle probing he eventually started to open up to me.
"Well, my family owned a horse breeding property nestled above a beautiful valley near the Sussex coast. My father and his father before him were quite successful when the world was drawn by the brawn of horses. But things are changing fast, when did you last see a horse draw carriage in London?" He asked and of course I knew that he was right. The motor engine offered us a better cleaner world and soon the sight of horses in our towns and cities would be a rarity.
"Go on Tom... finish your tale."
"I had no other ambition than to walk in my father's footsteps... As the dark clouds of the Great War gathered, the War Department had an inexhaustible need of horses and almost our entire stock was requisitioned. There was supposed to be compensation but it never really materialised." Tom's words held the shadow of deep emotion as he continued. "My father borrowed heavily to keep the property going, we had a few foals and some yearlings that the military had no use of, but there was no income to be made from them in the short term and gradually, one by one, my father's creditors would no longer support us. The property was sold and I don't believe Father could tolerate the shame.
They found him mortally wounded up on the high point of our land where the view across the downs rolling to the coast is one of the finest in England. His treasured Purdey shotgun with both chambers spent, lay at his side. My mother went to live with her sister in France and I eventually found work here.
I found the story so moving that my eyes brimmed with emotion.
"That is so, so sad Tom." I whispered.
"Don't upset yourself Miss Buntie, I have found real happiness again here on the Fitzgerald Estate."
"I'm so glad to hear that Tom." Tom nodded and I felt that the tenuous bond that had drawn us together had somehow strengthened.
"I should be getting back to the stables." He said.
"Yes, of course... may I talk to you again sometime?"
"I would like that." He said as he took his leave.
"Oh Tom... can we drop the 'Miss'? Please just call me Buntie." He didn't reply but as he turned his head back to me I could see a smile shining from the deep blueness of his eyes.
I walked back towards the house lost in my thoughts unaware of the mortal danger that lurked behind the rhododendron bushes. The attack was swift and lethal:
"William, there you are. Come along to the drawing room at once, There are things that need to be settled."
"Yes Mother." I said as I accepted that any attempt at escape would be futile. Even so I was rather slow in making my appearance at the drawing room. My mother was seated in the heavy chair that had always been my Father's when he was home. It seemed too big for her; dwarfed by the folds of buttoned leather she seemed lost and I felt a pang of sorrow that my behaviour was causing her distress.
"Come and sit down." She said. "I am sure you are able to guess the gist of what I have to say to you... It is evident that you have not changed out of your sister's clothes yet but this really can not continue for a moment longer. When Ernest can find the time, he seems to be struggling to do so at the moment," She added with the trace of annoyance, "he will ensure that you will adopt the appearance of the young man that you are. William, as the eldest, the only son, you have inherited your father's title. You are not just William but are Lord William Fitzgerald. With such a title comes responsibility." She sighed and I had the impression that she was fighting back her emotions. "We have rather fallen short on your education..."
"I am perfectly literate in French as well as English, even my Latin is passable. I can read music and my piano has been praised by all who have heard it."
"Yes, yes but what do you know of the world of business and politics or mathematics and science?"
"I know all I care to know Mother."
"Never-the-less, I wish you undertake some formal study to pass the Oxford entrance examination and then you will take a degree, political history would be my choice but we can consider your course more carefully once you have had time to think about your options.
"This is not what I want Mother... You know me... you know who I am. Please don't force me to become someone that is totally alien to my very soul."
"You think you are a girl. You intend abdicating your title?"
"The title means nothing to me it is an unwanted burden... Let cousin Ernest be the viscount. Mother don't you want me to happy?"
"Of course I do... don't you see darling I'm trying to save you from a life of shame and isolation. Just what sort of role do you imagine you could take pretending to be a woman for the rest of your life."
"There is no pretending involved mother. Just being allowed to be a woman is all I want." I remembered what Tom had said to me in jest that he would marry me if I were a scullery maid. I let my emotions rule over my common sense and blurted out: "Forget me being a viscount, I would be happier being a scullery maid if I could just live as a woman."
Clearly I had now exhausted Mother's patience.
"You think so?... Very well." She rang the bell for Robinson our butler.
"Lady Fitzgerald, may I be of assistance?" He said a few moments later.
"Thank you Robinson, would you transmit my complements to Mrs Priestley and ask her to come to the drawing room."
"Very well your Ladyship."
Mrs Priestley was our cook and she had been so since before I was born. I found her to be a rather fearsome woman, lacking in kindness. After a brief time, when a frosty silence had settled over my mother and me, Mrs Priestley appeared at the doorway. She seemed somewhat flustered as if she had been dragged away from some arcane magic which she employed to make the delicious food which we were so lucky to enjoy.
"Was there something you wanted Lady Pamela?"
"Do you think..." My mother said. "That you could make use of this this 'exasperating indigent child' as a scullery maid."
"Lord William, a scullery maid?"
"As you have no doubt noticed, to my shame, my only son believes that he is a girl."
"It's not natural that ain't." Mrs Priestley muttered almost inaudibly.
"Well?" My mother pressed.
"If it's what your Ladyship wants then I'll do my best."
"Very well take her with you now... Are you able to find her some suitable clothing?"
"You mean maid's clothing?"
"I do."
"I'll see what I can find your Ladyship."
"Treat her as a new recruit, no special treatment and find her somewhere to sleep."
"She could share the attic room with Lizzy, if you think that would suitable."
"Two girls sharing the same room... I feel that no propriety would be challenged by that. Do you?"
"No Lady Pamela, if that is your wish."
The next few hours passed in a whirlwind of activity. I was taken up to the rather dismal attic room with bare boards and little by way of furniture. I was grateful to see that there were two single beds. I was unceremoniously stripped of Emma's clothing and told to put on something more appropriate to the duties of a lowly maid: a heavy weave dress made of boiled linen the colour of yesterday's porridge brightened by a little embroidery around the bodice. I was immediately put to work scrubbing pans until my hands were red. In a lull of activity before the afternoon rush to prepare dinner, Mrs Priestley took me to one side.
"I have been told to treat you as a maid and I'll do it, have no fear about that. It may be meant as some sort of punishment – I won't be bothered to know the details. God knows you need bringing to your senses... but know this boy, you were made to be a man by the almighty hand of God and it's the Devil's work that has turned you into this abomination."
I felt like shrinking down until I was invisible, for the first time I had encountered the venom that my mother was trying to protect me from. At last I understood. But the cook's evil words had only served to strengthen my resolve; the tears I should have shed were held back tight by an effort of will and I resolved in that moment to play my mothers game until the bitter end.
"Thank you for your wisdom Mrs Priestley." I said as confidently as I could but there was a tremor in my voice. "What shall I do next?"
"You can set to and peel them spuds and no wastage mind."
By the end of the day, I was exhausted. I was young and healthy but was not used to the physical work that had suddenly been dropped on my shoulders. I very quickly formed a new understanding of the demands that we as a family unthinkingly placed on our household staff. As we were released from our daily duties, I found Lizzy who was still my friend and she took my hand and led me up the creaking stairs to the attic.
"Don't take any notice of what cook says Miss." She said to me. The Ladyship will soon come to her senses and you'll be back with your family before you know it."
"I think you should call me Buntie,"I said "we are equals now."
Lizzy just laughed, she could see the truth. In this world, by an accident of birth, we would never be seen as equals. I had been born to privilege and had accepted it as normal. I even allowed myself to believe that I was somehow better than than those who served me. I now knew the truth.
"You can have this bed. There's a night dress for you." Lizzy sat on her bed pulling off her stockings.
"Thank you Lizzy, I'm not sure I could bear this without you as a friend."
She patted her bed inviting me to join her on it.
"So... are you sweet on Tom?" she said.
"What ever makes you think that Lizzy?" I said.
"Oh... nothing and we both set to giggling."
The life of a scullery maid, I have to admit, was a shock to my system. I had almost no time for myself and as bedtime approached I was usually too exhausted to do anything other than fall asleep. I had to be up before the sun as the household had to be running at speed before, 'them upstairs' roused lazily from their slumber. I believe that I acquitted myself reasonably well, even Mrs Priestley could find nothing to criticise in my work though she continued to make it known that I would always be an abomination until I let God back into my heart. Mrs Priestley held one particular view of my nature and some of the others like Lizzy, dear Mr Moffat and a certain stable lad of his, held a rather kinder view. The rest, I came to understand, seemed to hold no strong opinion either way; I was just another of those eccentric aristocrats who had the luxury of being able to indulge their own particular peccadilloes. My life, beyond furnishing a little gossip, was of no interest to them and I could understand that, welcome it even.
Whenever I encountered any of my family, I was made to curtsey and lower my eyes. At first I found this funny but after a few weeks, Her Ladyship's insistence that I be fully treated as a maid, soon lost all its humour for me. I had no idea how long my mother intended my 'punishment' to continue but, despite my earlier resolve, found myself growing weary of this new life.
Emma, who's company I craved, refused to treat me any differently. She constantly sought the opportunity to meet with me. Sometimes, in the evening, I took her to my shared attic room. The setting sun drawing a golden square of sunshine across Lizzie's bed. There all three of us would sit talking and conspiring. Emma would sometimes bring a little treat, maybe some chocolate or a bunch of flowers, that she had liberated from the Great Hall to brighten our little room. Lizzy and Emma both helped me survive my expulsion, but the one who made it tolerable was Tom. As often as we were able, we ate our meals together. Sometimes we stole a few moments in the evening to walk in the grounds and when I was with Tom, I not longer felt ostracised. He gave me the most precious gift of all; the gift of acceptance. I even dared to believe that he not only saw me as a girl but was slowly coming to accept that I really was a girl.
After a little negotiation Tom occasionally managed to arrange for our days off to coincide. I remember it was the day that Lucina dropped her pretty little foal, when Tom first asked me to go to the cinema with him. I was beyond excited at the prospect and got Lizzy, when she was upstairs, to ask Emma if I could borrow something nice to wear. Emma was delighted and sneaking down the back stairs, carefully avoiding Mrs Priestley, she brought me her fur collared camel coat with a matching small cloche hat, the lovely cream satin dress that Aunt Maude had bought her as a birthday gift, some sheer stockings and her favourite pair of high heeled shoes. She washed my hair with some sweet smelling shampoo and brushed it until it shone again like it used to. Before leaving me, she gave me a dab of her perfume and with a little powder and lipstick, I felt transformed from a dowdy maid into a lady.
I met Tom by the main gate, it was twilight and as he saw me standing waiting I heard a sudden intake of breath. I turned to him.
"It is you... I wasn't sure... you look so... "
"Pretty?" I offered.
"No, far beyond that." He stood looking at me in my finery without speaking until I grew embarrassed.
"Shall we go?" I said.
He took out his pocket watch, one of the few heirlooms that had survived his family's bankruptcy. "Yes we'd better get a move on." he said and we walked briskly down the lane and took the motor omnibus into town. I had rarely been to the cinema it was seen by my mother, who was so old fashioned in many ways, as a little beneath our dignity. It was perfectly acceptable to go to the opera or the ballet or even to a West End play. But never to the music halls or the cinema which she assumed to be the exclusive domain of the lewd and boorish, those mythical 'great unwashed masses'.
I held a different opinion. We went to see 'The thief of Baghdad' staring the dashing Douglas Fairbanks. I thoroughly enjoyed the film but other aspects of my evening were even nicer. When Tom, rather diffidently took my hand, I felt that I really was his girlfriend. I rested my cheek on his shoulder and Tom leaned into me with gentle affection. On the silver screen, we watched the hero flying across the exotic skies of Baghdad on a magic carpet; I felt to have found my own magic carpet that evening.
When the film was over, we emerged hand in hand into the fresh night air. We walked a little way to where we could catch the last omnibus and Tom drew me into a little shadowed alcove and very tenderly, he brushed his lips against mine and I pulled him towards me, unable to stop myself, I returned his kiss. This was the first real kiss I had ever known and it lifted me up from my trivial sorrows giving me a glimpse of Nirvana.
The next day, my life retuned to the drudgery that I was slowly becoming accustomed to. While I was elbow deep in hot soapy water scrubbing the breakfast pans. Mr Robinson, our very straight laced butler, entered the scullery. He looked at me with the usual inscrutable expression that he had reserved for me since my fall from grace. I am certain that he did not know what to make of me.
"Lord William." he said rather taking me by surprise. "Mr Ernest has requested that you join him in the library."
"Oh... should I go straight away?" I said as I towelled my soapy hands on my pinafore.
"I believe that is what Mr Ernest desires."
I knocked on the library door and entered. Maintaining the status of a maid I curtsied and stood with my hands demurely clasped in front of me.
"You wanted to speak to me Sir." I said.
"For God's sake Buntie stop all this nonsense; come and sit down I've got some news."
He told me that his gynaecologist friend has written to him about his enquiries. Ernest quoted from the letter:
"Bartholomew says your condition which he calls 'gender dysphoria' is 'more common than is generally known.' I find that rather encouraging news... He goes on to suggest that the outcomes for such people may be unfortunate."
"What does he mean by that?'' I said.
"Well, the opportunities for such people to lead a normal life are rather limiting and they often have to face physical abuse..." Ernest stopped, I knew that this was embarrassing for him. I stood up and took his hand.
"Is there any good news?"
"Ah yes, indeed there is." He skimmed through the letter until he found what the section wanted.
"Yes, here it is... 'Recent developments in endocrinology and surgical techniques have opened the door to offering real hope to these troubled individuals."
"So it is possible." I said.
"He says that if I wish, he will delve deeper into the issue and have discussions with colleagues from different specialist fields who may know more."
"Tell him to find out all he can, will you?"
"Dearest Buntie, a letter will be dispatched this very day."
"Thank you so much Ernest, this has given me real hope."
"I thought it might," he said "now when are you going to come back upstairs and join the family again; life is so dull without you rattling about the place and disturbing everyone's composure."
"That's entirely up to Lady Pamela." I said. "It was she who placed me in this position."
"You, young lady, are as stubborn as your mother. I feel I should crack your skulls together."
"I wonder who's would break first." I said but Ernest did not rise to the provocation.
"I'll tell you what I'll do... You know that Maude is on your side in this little family spat?" I nodded "Well if she and I work together, nibbling at your mother's sharp corners from different directions, maybe we can make her foundations crumble and she may finally regain her senses."
I laughed at the imagery. "I wish you would Ernest... I'm still angry with Mother but I love her and miss her so much..." I suddenly burst into tears. I had held back my feelings for so long that it was inevitable that eventually I would crumple in a soggy heap.
Ernest held me tight.
"Listen Buntie... I promise that everything will work out for you. I will make it my life's work if necessary."
I was able to utter a small laugh, Ernest had cheered me up as he always did. I wiped my eyes.
"So," he said "what's the gossip from the kitchen... do they really spend all day plotting our overthrow?"
"You have no idea darling." I said "Just don't take any of the rhubarb pie this evening."
"Is there rhubarb pie? Haven't had that since I was boy."
"Actually no, sorry to get your hopes up."
"Can you stand life below stairs?"
"It's not too bad, most of them are kind to me... I've found a friend..."
"Yes Emma said something... Lizzy is it?"
"Lizzy is a friend yes... I meant someone special."
"Well tell all dear heart."
"His name is Tom. Tom Chatsworth and he works with Mr Moffat in the stables."
"Do I detect a touch of romance in your young life?"
"I'm not sure Tom is quite comfortable with that..." I said.
"How could anyone resist you Buntie?"
I gave Ernest a punch on the arm for his trouble and he laughed at my feeble attempt at assault.
"Now that name 'Tom Chatsworth' rings a bell... he's not a Sussex Chatsworth? – Father treated disgracefully by the War Department?"
"You've heard of him?"
"Of the Father certainly; wasn't he called Matthew? I seem to remember it all ended rather tragically. Good God I had no idea his son was working for us. I should talk to your mother and see if there's something we can do for him."
The library door swung open and Emma marched in. She had no idea that I was in the library and shrieked with pleasure as she saw me.
"Buntie, are you back with us?"
I made an exaggerated curtsey, delivered with maximum irony.
"No Miss, I was summoned up to polish Mr Ernest's shoes." I said.
"One of there days you sense of humour will get you into deep trouble." Ernest said.
Emma, still laughing, grabbed me by the hand.
"Have you two finished because I desperately need to interrogate my sister concerning a certain trip to the cinema."
Ernest waved us away.
"Off you go I have an important letter to write."
Emma dragged me off to her room. We closed the door on the world and she looked at me in my dowdy little dress and pinafore.
"It's such a shame you looked so pretty in my cream satin, and now..."
"I look like a scullery maid."
"Well darling, yes." We both laughed.
"So how did you make your escape?"
"It's just a temporary reprieve, Ernest had some news and sent Robinson for me. The man called me 'Lord William' when I was up to my elbows in dirty pans."
"Our butler is of a different age, I don't think he knows how to deal with you."
"No it's all my fault, as usual."
"Now no sulking... tell me about the date."
"It was wonderful... I really enjoyed the film."
"Yes, yes I don't give a fig about the film... how was the adorable Tom?"
"Tom is such a gentleman, he was the perfect escort."
"Did he kiss you?"
I was silent for a moment.
"He didn't then." Emma said.
"Emma... I think I'm falling in love with him."
"Well of course, ever since the village dance you've been besotted by him."
"I have not." I insisted.
"Did he kiss you?" Emma pressed.
I twirled round with my arms held out until I collapsed on Emma's bed.
"Yes, yes he did and it was absolutely divine."
The drudgery of my life below stairs continued. I could tolerate the drudgery but not Mrs Priestley's persistent sniping comments. One instance which I will never forget was very hurtful as it held reference to Tom whom I cared deeply about. She had heard about my trip to the cinema and chose to enlighten me on her view of my spiralling 'heathen ways'.
"Not only do you go around defiling the very nature that our Lord has made sacrosanct, but now you are setting about seducing our innocent men folk with you wicked ways. I can't imagine what young Tom sees in you. He suffered a lot what with his family misfortune and now you..." She prodded me in the ribs with a sharp finger, "you with your devil's ways have got your hooks into him." I was determined to maintain my dignity even in the face of such an onslaught and stood in silence while the woman continued her barrage: "The Devil has no power over me even though I can smell the stench of Satan on your breath... No, no fear at all while I wear this round my neck." She fingered the silver cross that she always wore round her neck and lifting it to her lips kissed the cold metal with her cold lips. "I've had words with Tom... With the Lord's grace he is still not beyond redemption; I think you will find him harder to seduce in the future."
I was astonished. The sad woman had excelled herself this time; I should have been angry as well as hurt but it was mostly pity that I felt for her.
"I'm very sorry if my behaviour has upset you Mrs Priestley." I said. She turned away from me contemptuously.
"Go out to the kitchen garden and pluck a bunch of mint..." She said as if her vile accusations had never been made. "Oh yes, and basket of rhubarb... there's been a special request for a pie from upstairs... They always was partial to my rhubarb pie back before the War."
I went out into the garden, happy to feel the sun warm against my shoulders. I drew a little comfort from the stillness of the garden as I plucked the stems of the mint, its fragrance filling my nostrils. Further down the kitchen garden where the dark soil had be enriched with regular diggings of compost was the rhubarb patch. Taking my time, in no hurry to return to the scullery, I wandered down past the runner beans and spring cabbages. I found the rhubarb growing in succulent profusion; unharvested for many a day there was more than enough for my needs. With my kitchen knife, I sliced off some of the better stems and placed them in my basket along with the fragrant mint. As I turned my head there, joy of joys, was Tom. He had just been collecting some misshapen carrots for the horses from the kitchen and was making his way back to the stables.
He smiled as soon as he saw me and my spirits lifted.
"Mrs Priestley tells me she has warned you to steer clear of me." I said.
"She did. Has she been having another go at you?"
"I'm afraid so." I wiped away the single tear that had escaped to run down my cheek.
"My mother seems to be stubbornly playing out her game. She wants me to go up to Oxford and become a politician or something equally ghastly."
"And you are content to continue playing this charade until she gives in?"
"I was at first, when I thought that I could win this battle of wills. I imagined it would be just a few days but Mother has left me down here for seven weeks now and there's no sign that she's about to crumble... Frankly Tom, I'm not sure I have the fortitude for much more, I can see myself crumbling first. The horror of that is that I'll have to pretend to be a boy again... not just for a while but forever... I just couldn't bear that. I'm coming to see that if I have a future at all then it will have to be far from my family home."
"I hope that's not true Buntie, I can see how much you love your family, it would be a tragedy if you were forced to abandon them."
"I know but, Tom, which ever way I turn, I find my path blocked. I know that if I had you by my side, I'd would find happiness again."
"I wish I could take you way from all this, I sometimes dream of being able to raise my own horses again... and in my imaginings you are by my side." Tom said as he gently held my fingers.
"I would love that," I said. "You know I love horses as much as you do."
Tom looked at me, there was an intensity in his eyes that I had never seen before.
"Buntie, I need to tell you something..."
I had the sudden dread that he was going to tell me that he regretted how close we had become, that Mrs Priestly was right about me.
I was wrong.
"Since I first met you," Tom said "I've grown to like you, to finally understand you... with that understanding has grown an affection... I guess I showed that from the kiss I stole the other night. Try as I might Buntie, I can no longer see you as a boy. To me you are a young woman and my feelings for you have become the feelings for a woman."
"Tom," I said "I think I love you... are you saying your feelings are the same?"
"Yes." He said.
We stared into each other's eyes but the passionate moment was cut short by the sound of a voice squawking at me like an angry rook on a bitter winter's morning."
"Where are you, you damned girl?... where's that mint got to?"
And then before Tom's emotions took complete control of him he turned away and ran for the stables.
"I'm coming Mrs Priestley." I called and quickly gathered my things and ran up to meet her before she chanced to see Tom's disappearing shape. I turned back for an instant hoping to catch another glimpse but my dear Tom had already vanished like a capricious apparition.
The next time that Emma managed to creep up to the attic room, I told her of how I was feeling; that I was on the verge of crumbling to Mother's will.
"I don't know how you've stood it so long darling. I'm sure I would have caved in the minute I set foot in the kitchen."
"You don't know how close I've come over the weeks; it's only my stubbornness that has kept me on my path."
"What are you going to do Buntie?"
I sighed, none of my options held any real appeal for me.
"I think I'll have to run away." I said.
"Oh no Buntie, don't think of that. How will you manage? You have no money, nowhere to go and you're still so young to be on your own."
"There are situations advertised for companions for elderly ladies, maybe I could find such a position."
"I really don't think you've thought this through Buntie. I can see so many pitfalls, you would need references before you would even be considered for such a position."
"You could write me a reference... One from Lady Emma Fitzgerald would be sure to carry some weight."
"Yes... as long as they did not know who I was. And what about Tom? I thought the tapestry of your lives was woven together now."
"I want that so much... I will save money and eventually we will be reunited."
Emma sighed. I could see that she was unconvinced by my idea's; I was hardly convinced myself.
"Buntie, I cannot help you to run away like this, ask anything else and I'll do it, but not this darling. In any case I would miss you so much."
The tipping point for my decision came shortly later. It was another venomous attack from Mrs Priestley. I was intending having my lunch sandwich with Tom up at the stables and wanting to be pretty for him, I dashed up to the attic and put on a little pink lipstick. As I crept back through the kitchen Mrs Priestley noticed me, her eagle eye falling on the pinkness of my lips.
"And now the devil's whore has a painted face." She spat as she grabbed me by my arm and swung me against the wall. The wind was knocked from my lungs as she slapped me across my face and then taking a scouring pad, she scrubbed painfully at my face. I struggled helplessly to free myself from her iron grip but then I heard a voice coming from the doorway:
"Stop that you viscous old witch." I turned my eyes, but I had no need to identify the speaker. I knew the voice as well as I knew my own.
Tom pulled Mrs Priestley off me and put himself between us.
"If you ever raise your hand to her again, I will snap your evil neck." He said in a voice so filled with quiet menace that Mrs Priestley fell back white faced and shocked to the core.
"I'm in charge in the kitchen, you... you have no business here Tom Chatsworth. I'll see to it that you are dismissed for this attack on me, a poor defenceless woman."
Tom ignored her words and taking my trembling hand led me out into the warm midday sunshine. We walked across to the meadow where the new foal stood balanced on legs that look far too long. It frolicked in the meadow with a mix of curiosity and timidity never moving far from its mother. We stood in silence for a while both of us needing to gain our equilibrium.
"I expect I've overstepped the boundaries, I am usually less easily angered." Tom said as he contemplated the absolute certainty of his imminent dismissal.
"Tom, you saved me from that manic woman; in my eyes you are a hero."
"She's just a mad woman... I shouldn't have threatened her... So where to from here?" He said. I could see the despair in his eyes.
"Did you mean it when you said that you loved me?" I said quietly.
"My head tells me that I should run from you but my heart knows the truth... Of course I love you Buntie... I don't think I could bear to be parted from you."
"Then we no longer have any option Tom... we'll have to leave The Estate and make our own way in life."
"I can hardly look after myself let alone take care of a beautiful young lady."
"We'll take care of each other Tom. Listen, something came to me last night while I lay tossing and turning in my bed... You said that your mother lives in France... would she welcome us for a visit?"
Tom seemed to brighten at the idea.
"I'm sure she would; my mother would adore you. But I have no money to pay our fare."
"I have a little money and I'm sure Emma will help us."
"This is foolhardy Buntie, but... shall we?"
"Yes, yes." I said and wrapped my arms round him. I was suddenly excited; the future was far from certain but staying a while with Tom's mother would give us a respite, a little time, when I just knew that more opportunities would arise.
I ran up to Emma's room and found her reading as I burst in.
"What is it?" She said suddenly alarmed. "What have you done to your face?"
"Mrs Priestley took exception to my wearing lipstick... she took to me with a scouring pad."
"That's appalling Buntie, Mother will need to know about this... Has she attacked you before?"
"Not physically but I've had to put up with a constant stream of verbal abuse."
"Why didn't you say anything?"
"Emma what Mrs Priestley did or didn't do is not important any more. Tom and I are leaving." I said.
"When? Where are you going?"
"We're leaving now... but darling sister, I need your help."
"I can't sanction any hare-brained scheme Buntie; I think I should call Mother." She rose from her chair and I clutched at her arm.
"Listen Emma, this is a sensible plan, we are going to stay with Tom's mother in France. We'll be fine. Don't tell Mother until we are long gone."
"Tom's mother? Well that makes some sense I suppose."
"The trouble is we have so little money."
Emma paced up and down her room wringing her hands.
"Emma..." I said desperate for her support.
"Very well, I'll do what I can. I have just a few pounds which you can have and I'll pack you a bag with some clothes and things."
"You won't tell Mother?"
"I'll give you 24 hours but I won't see Mother worried unnecessarily."
"Make it 48."
"Very well darling, but you must write as soon as you are able."
"I will, of course I will. My family are all so precious to me." We held each other, both of us letting the tears flow without constraint.
"When you tell Mother where I've gone, give her my love and say that I hope we will soon be reconciled." I said
"I will... You are my beloved sister, you have always been my sister. I knew you were a girl as soon as you were born despite what Mother said."
"I'll miss you so much Emma."
Me too... God's speed my darling angel."
Early the next morning under the cover of darkness Tom and I walked across the fields, past the old stone Lodge and on to the main road. We took an omnibus to the railway station and we were filled with sadness and excitement in equal measure. We needed to get to Southampton and then take the steamer to the Port of Cherbourg. Tom's mother lived with her new husband on a small farm near the pretty village of Val de Valognes. It was only ten miles or so from the Port so the last part of our journey should be easy.
At the railway station I was shocked by how much the tickets to Southampton cost. It would take almost all of our money.
"It seems we have fallen at the first hurdle." Tom said.
"No we can't give up now... we could stow away on the steamer, it's only a short crossing."
Tom, my sensible Tom, looked unconvinced.
"Please, Tom it's worth a try; it may be our only chance to find happiness." I said as my eyes flooded with tears.
"Don't cry Buntie; you know I can't argue against your tears... very well, if you want to take the risk, we'll buy the rail tickets and just hope that the future will take care of itself."
The rail journey was uneventful as we sped across the summer landscape towards the sea. But we found on arriving that the last steamer had already sailed. It meant having to wait until the morning. We had enough money for some dinner but a room was beyond our means so we strolled the streets until late and then huddled together on a park bench until the morning.
Boarding the steamer was easier than I had imagined. We waited until a group of passengers were ready to climb the gang plank and we merged with them, While they showed their boarding passes we just casually strolled on deck and found seats on the other side of the ship away from the deck officer's eyes. When the ship started to move we held hands and finally took a sigh of relief. We must have been half way across the Channel when the officer who had been checking the boarding passes earlier wandered up onto deck. His eyes fell on us and Tom and I suddenly panicked and briskly moved away. Possibly if we had stayed seated nothing would have happened. But he called out to us:
"Excuse me... You two... Miss... I need to check your boarding passes and passports."
I turned to Tom.
"Passports!" I said, "What a fool I've been. I'm sorry Tom I should have thought. Whenever we went to the continent Mother would always take care of all that stuff."
The officer had caught up to us now and he took my arm. I felt suddenly overwhelmed by panic and pulling free I ran towards the stern of the ship. The deck was wet from the salt spray and my shoes had little grip... I heard Tom call out to me: "Darling be careful..." But it was simply too late, in my panic I slithered into the rail. My momentum carrying me up and over. For an instant I could not believe what had happened. It was as if I was suspended in mid air, not moving, not believing that I could have let this happen. Then I fell, the angry sea churning below me. When I hit the water, it was like a concussion and nothing felt real any more. I was suddenly deep down beneath the waves sinking into the darkness. But there was no panic, I felt a strange calmness fall over me. My only thoughts were for poor Tom left alone as I stared into the hollow eyes of death.
It was like waking from a deep deep sleep. I saw hazy light and then the blurry image of a face as my eyelids fluttered. Then the sound of a familiar voice.
"Mother Mother... her eyes have opened."
The voice was Emma's and I struggled through an almost impenetrable fog to focus on her face. Slowly my sister's features revealed themselves to me. I tried to sit up but there was pain in my neck.
"Lie still darling." A voice said. It was Mother and I felt her hand take mine, felt her tears against my fingers. I tried to speak but the words would not come. "Hush darling." She said "You're perfectly safe now."
Then I slept again.
They later told me it was another two days before I properly woke and they explained to me what had happened. I was propped up on pillows, the smell of antiseptic strong in my nostrils. By my bedside were my mother and sister. Eventually, after my constant questions, they told me what had happened.
"When the ship had slowed and turned they found you in the water only half alive... If not for the heroic efforts of ship's surgeon you would not have survived. You were left in a coma darling and you were eventually sent here to St Bartholomew's."
I nodded my mouth was dry and I beckoned for some water.
"Here not too much darling, just a sip." Mother said. It felt good to be comforted by her again.
"I love you." I said through the croak of my hoarse voice.
"I love you two Buntie, you have no idea how much. Can you ever forgive me for what I did to you... Emma told me the way Mrs Priestley treated you... I had no idea." Mother pulled a handkerchief from her bag and swabbed at her eyes.
"She's been dismissed." Emma said.
I was pleased that I would never have to see her again but I took no pleasure in hearing that she had lost her job.
"Buntie I need to tell you that I was wrong... wrong about insisting that you were a boy. I don't really understand but Ernest has tried to explain to me what the doctors told him; he has convinced me that your feelings are real. You really are a girl lost in a boy's body. I accept that now and we will do everything we can to help you."
I think I was in tears, but I felt a huge weight lift from my shoulders. Suddenly energized I asked about Tom:
"Where is Tom?" I said "I thought he might have come to see me."
Emma seemed suddenly overcome with emotion and she stood and moved to the window so that I could not see her tears.
"What is it?" I said. My mother held me in her arms as if I was her baby again.
"Darling you have to be strong... We heard the story from the deck officer; he saw everything... watched helpless as you slipped over the railing. Tom was frantic he reached the railing calling for help; someone threw a life belt overboard... But Tom was so desperate to save you that he put aside his own safety and dived into the sea after you calling your name. The passengers saw him disappear into the foaming churn of the propellers. By the time the ship had slowed and turned there was only one body to be seen."
"No no... We must send boats out there, a search party..." I called trying to struggle from the bed.
"Darling this all happened more than a week ago... there can be no hope now."
"A week... no it can't be..."
It took me a while to fully grasp that I would never see Tom again, that he had died because of my stupid foolishness. When the reality finally struck home I sobbed until there were no more tears and the doctor came and gave me a sedative.
I can't remember much for a while. It seems that I suffered a relapse. But my constitution was strong and in two more weeks I was sent home to convalesce. Slowly my health improved but a dark depression had settled over me. Even my mother's final acceptance of me as a young woman was not enough to lift my spirits.
They took me to Brighton to get some sea air and clutching Emma's arm she and I walked across the shifting shingle down to the waves. Despite the numbing wind I was suddenly overcome again with grief, which rose in me like the moon seen across the water, ghostly yet beautiful with precious memories. I was more unhappy than I had ever been as I looked to the horizon. Out there, lost somewhere in that vast body of water was my darling Tom. In a moment of uncontrolled anguish I screamed out his name into the surf and wind.
"Tom, Tom I'm here... there's no need to search for me any more... darling come home to me... come home." As I called a white gull swooped down towards me as if to acknowledge my sadness. "Find him, find my Tom." I called to the bird and it dipped its wings and headed out to sea as if it understood my desolation. Then I collapsed to my knees in the surf, my coat and skirt soaked. Emma held me as the wind snatched at us and the leaden sky rained its own heavy tears down on us.
Slowly as the days passed, I regained some composure and there was even some good news. Ernest had received a letter from his gynaecologist friend saying that he had the name of an endocrinologist and a surgeon who had agreed to work together to transform my body into that of a woman. It was all I had ever wanted, but now, without Tom to share my joy, the news felt rather hollow. There were medicines to take, ones I would need to take for the rest of my life and several operations. The first of which was a relatively minor one to remove a part of my unwanted male anatomy. This I was told would help the medicines to achieve a successful feminisation of my body. Further surgery to form female genitalia would involve more complex procedures.
The first procedure now completed there was a rest period for my recovery before more surgery could be contemplated. Mother was fully accepting of all this now, somehow she seemed happy to have another daughter. We talked about my future, my transformation. I told her that I wanted a new name now that my status as a woman was accepted. We talked of my lost dreams of a life with Tom, our shared desire to raise horses together. The dreams seemed bitter now that they had been snatched away so tragically. After the surgery I rested and took slow walks in the grounds with Emma. I was careful to avoid the stables as the memories associated with them were still too raw to bear. However I already felt closer to becoming a woman as I imagined the subtle changes my body was already undergoing. Emma, and indeed all my family, had been such a support that I would not have been able to survive this time without them.
To cheer me up Mother took Emma and me into London to finally find some clothes of my own. We walked the length of Bond street and Oxford street calling in at the shops that Mother knew and trusted. She ordered skirts and blouses, stockings and pretty delicate underwear, some lovely shoes and a beautiful slim dove-grey dress that I adored. Pausing for a moment at the window of a glove shop, Mother told me that a lady is known by her shoes and her gloves and we went inside and chose several pairs of delicately hand stitched gloves. Then we took tea in the pretty little tea-shop in Stratford Place. Among the tables and the chattering waiters we had steaming cups of lovely Earl Grey tea and dainty slices of Victoria Sponge. It was a day that lifted my spirits but despite all the kindness that I was shown, there was still an emptiness in my heart when my mind drifted back to thoughts of Tom.
One day as Emma and I walked down by the lake, I saw a bird high in the sky cavorting and circling above us, as it dropped lower, wheeling and flirting with the winding air currents, I thought for a moment that it was my white gull from Brighton. I know it must only have been a coincidence but something about it's sudden appearance gave me a spark of hope that one day, maybe even in another lifetime, Tom and I would be reunited.
The letter came just two days later. It was addressed to Ernest. Here is a copy:
To Ernest Fitzgerald
Sir,
I must write to you regarding Miss Fitzgerald's disappearance. I have addressed the letter to you as I feel it would be better for you to break the news to her mother and sister. I am certain that Miss Emma will have told you by now that we left the Estate under a cloud. It was desperation that drove Miss Fitzgerald but I take full responsibility for what happened. It was my duty to protect her and I am sad to say that I was derelict in my duty.
We were crossing the channel on the way to stay with my mother and for reasons which there is no need to go into at the moment, my dear companion fell overboard. I can hardly bring myself to write these words but I know you must be desperate for news of her. I fear that Miss Fitzgerald must have drowned on that tragic day in the English Channel. I jumped into the waves after her frantic to try and save her but got dragged deep beneath the ship. I fought my way to the surface, the sea was choppy and a wind had picked up which pulled me away from the ship. I saw in the distance as the steamer turned and started a search. Despite my best efforts I was unable to attract its attention.
I hope even now that they found Miss Fitzgerald but sadly I believe that not to be the case. It soon grew dark and I spent the night bobbing in the waves struggling to keep my head above the water. The coldness was on the point of finally draining my last resources when in the early morning light, a trawler out of Portsmouth steamed up and by a miracle discovered me. They nursed me back to health and although I begged the Captain to put me ashore, he was determined to stay at sea until his trawl of the cod-rich northern waters was complete. I was able to work as a deck hand over the next weeks until we finally turned for Grimsby. We are expected to dock today.
I am certain that there will be no welcome for me back at the Fitzgerald Estate and I can fully understand that. I will not therefore make any attempt to visit you in person. With the pay that I received from the captain I have enough to stay in Grimsby for a while where I will search for work, the crew have recommended a room at the 'White Gull Inn' as temporary accommodation.
Please express my heartfelt sorrow to Lady Pamela.
I will post this letter today as soon as we make landfall, please do not trouble to reply. I do not feel worthy of that consideration after the tragedy that I have brought to your family.
Yours Sincerely,
Tom Chatsworth.
"I must go to him." I said as tears of joy wet my face. But my kind dear Ernest had already made arrangements for us to take the train to Grimsby that very afternoon.
The next few hours were a blur of intensity. I was overjoyed by Tom's letter but so anxious that we should not arrive at the Inn to find that Tom had already left. Losing him again now was unimaginable.
It was evening when the Express pulled into the station at Grimsby. We took a cab at once to the White Gull and Ernest made enquiries of the landlord.
"Yessir we do 'ave a Tom Chatsworth staying with us. He should be back soon enough... there was the sniff of a job for 'im out Croxby way."
"Then we'll wait on his return... An interesting name for your pub." Ernest said making small talk.
"Aye, there's a legend of a white gull that is supposed to lead lost sailors back to land. Makes no sense to me but there's many round 'ere who swear to the truth of it..."
"Fascinating." Ernest said but the landlord's words resonated with me in a way that they never could for Ernest...
"Now can I get you and your young lady a drink while you wait Sir?"
"Yes, good idea... I'll have, let me see, half a bitter and..." Ernest turned to me "A lemonade?" he suggested. I really needed something to ease my nerves and felt a lemonade was hardly sufficient.
"May I have a port and lemon?"
"And a port and lemon... do you have sandwiches?"
"Yessir we certainly do, cheese or ham."
"A round of ham each then Landlord."
"Take a seat over in snug, you'll be more comfortable in there. I'll bring yer order though in a minute."
"You will tell Tom that we are here the moment he arrives won't you?" I said.
"Yes Miss, I'll be sure to do that."
We took seats at a small polished dark wood table and I removed my gloves and hat. There was a window over looking the street but most of it was frosted over to give privacy, there was just a small lozenge shaped area of clear glass and my eyes kept peering through in the hope that I might see a familiar and dear face emerge along the footpath. My finger's were trembling as I took my glass from the landlord. I don't remember ever being as nervous before in my life and after a single bite I gave the remains of my sandwich to Ernest to finish.
"Do you want another drink?" He said
"Actually I just might." I said.
"I'm sure Tom will be along any minute now, try and relax."
Ernest went back into the bar and really just as a way to distract myself I delved into my handbag and took out my compact and powdered my nose. After touching up my lipstick, the face that stared back at me from the small mirror had lost all trace of the boyishness that had once been there. My face had become softer, rounded, more feminine and I hoped that Tom would find me attractive.
The bar was starting to fill up now with voices raised in animated conversation and good humoured banter as Ernest queued waiting for more drinks. My eyes slipped back to little peep hole in the window and in the distance, maybe 25 yards away, my heart leapt in my breast as I saw the unmistakable shape of the man that I loved. I knew him instantly from the sturdy way in which he walked. His shoulders looked slumped and I could tell that his search for work had not born fruit; but that was no longer important.
In a second, I was out on the street. I stood silent watching his determined footsteps draw him closer. It was as if the world had stopped turning, my lungs caught between two suspended breaths. Suddenly Tom saw me and I could see the sharp intake of his breath as he recognised me. Neither of us could move for the longest time, the emotion was so overwhelming. Then as I held my arms out to him Tom started running, running to me.
I'm probably imagining it in the retelling but I'm sure hovering in Tom's, wake was a white gull that wheeled in the air with a cry of farewell... I buried my face in Tom's chest, there was so much to tell him, so much to ask. But all I could say at that precious moment was: 'I love you, I love you.'
We found Ernest and he grasped Tom in a powerful hug as if they were long lost brothers. Finally we were reunited and I would take Tom home to Fitzgerald Hall. Mother had a proposal for Tom and I hoped that it might answer all our prayers. We took the night train home and eventually arrived back at the Estate as the first light of the new day shimmered across the horizon. They were all waiting for us Emma, Mother, Grandfather and Maude. Even dear Lizzy and a handful of the staff had come up for our return. After the hugs and the excitement had died down, Mother, as she was wont to do on such occasions, called for quiet and made a speech.
"I would like to take the opportunity, while we are all gathered together. To welcome Tom into our family." She turned her eyes to Tom. "I know Tom that you feel some guilt at what happened to my youngest daughter. But there is no need at all, we know the truth and you bear no responsibility for what happened. After your valiant attempt to save my daughter, we all see you as nothing short of a hero." There was a general 'here, here' of agreement.
"Firstly I have an announcement to make. My youngest daughter has expressed, following the start of her journey to womanhood, the desire for a new name. Although 'Buntie' might be suitable for a child, it is less so for a woman. She has proposed that we call her Jane, a name that I may well have chosen myself if I had been aware at the time of my second child's true gender."
"Here's to Jane..." Maude called out to another round of clapping. My mother turned her eyes back to Tom.
"Tom, you come from a good family that has fallen on hard times through no fault of its own. I know that it is my Jane's dearest wish that you might make a life together. Having seen a glimpse of your character, that is a decision which I am very happy to support. It may not be possible for you to marry legally, but should you wish to propose to my daughter, then I will arrange for a ceremony to be held in our intimate little Estate Chapel. I envisage a simple ceremony where you may make your vows to each other in the sight of God and your loved ones."
My family applauded wildly at the suggestion and although I already knew what Mother had in mind, my eyes filled with tears of joy as I turned to Tom and felt him take my hand and kiss my fingers.
"Wait... there's more to say..." Mother shouted as she called for quiet. "We must consider what life Tom and Jane might have together... We have quite a few acres of fine pastoral land that lie adjacent to the Old Lodge. The land was, I understand, historically called 'Waterfield' before it was absorbed into the Estate back in the eighteenth century. I propose that the Lodge, currently as you all know unoccupied, would make a comfortable home for two young lovers who might wish to raise horses on the Waterfield property. The property will be gifted to Tom and Jane by Ernest who, will inherit the viscountcy now that, as a woman, Jane has renounced the title... One last thing... there will be a party tomorrow to celebrate Tom's return and it may double as an engagement party depending on Tom and Jane's decision."
"Engagement party... no question." Maud called out.
It was still far far too early in the day for Champagne so naturally Aunt Maude took the opportunity to pop the corks of several bottles and distribute brimmed glasses to everyone. I found Lizzy and gave her a powerful hug promising her that she would be generously rewarded for her unwavering friendship.
As a boisterous merriment took hold of my family, I slipped my fingers into Tom's hand and we walked out into the grounds. An early morning mist hung in the hollows making the high ground seem to float on a sea of cloud. The trees with the fog winding off them and the plaintive cry of the larks rising held a precious stillness that can only be found at this time of day.
"I can't believe this." Tom said. "Yesterday I hardly cared if I lived or died knowing that I had lost you."
"You will never lose me darling, something will always draw us together. I knew when our eyes met at the village hall that we were destined to grow old together." We stood together in silence for a while lost in our thoughts.
"This is your home now Tom." I said.
"It already feels so; the way that your family has opened their hearts to me is overwhelming. I will work tirelessly to make them proud of me."
"They are already proud of you Tom."
He put his arm across my shoulder and I could feel the warmth of his body against me. As he spoke the distant larks fell suddenly silent.
"Jane I need to ask you this... now that your mother has made it possible, will you be my wife?"
Holding him I could feel the surge of the sea, that had almost taken him, rising in in chest; I could almost hear the call of a white gull on his breath and feel our future stretching on though the coming seasons. Staring through the autumn mist of that sacred morning, I could see the coming summer with the Waterfield meadows flush with emerald grass and wild flowers and the air filled with the song of blackbirds.
"You know Tom." I said. "I think I just might be persuaded."