The first of the Autumn Gales was making its way up the St George’s Channel and into the Irish Sea. The late afternoon sky was darkening and the one ship that I could see from my window looked like it was in for a rough night.

I was in the process of pulling the curtains and shutting out the storm when I saw a brief light coming from the half ruin of a barn that marked the edge of my property. At first I thought that it was a reflection from the last of the sun but it appeared again. By now, the sun was totally covered by the approaching storm clouds.

I pulled the curtains shut and tried to put the possibility that someone was out there to the back of my mind.

“Come in and sit down Francine,” I said to the girl.

She came in and sat down.

“Now Francine, this is the third time Ms Hoare has sent you to me this term. You do know why you are here don’t you?”

Francine sighed.

“Yes Headmaster. Ms Hoare thinks that I'm wearing too much makeup.”

An Ode to 'Bike', the first 10 years

I’d rather be Riding my bicycle
My bicycle made for two
With bells and rings and things on
But a trusty read that always delivers
What it says on the tin

Through thick and thin
Wet and Dry
Another episode comes along
And then two or three more just like busses
But it always delivers
What it says on the tin

Angharad you are a trooper
Sooper dooper
And that is a fact
But the tales go on
And it always delivers
What it says on the tin

I came around after the operation but didn’t open my eyes for a while. I listened for the sounds of anyone in the room with me.

To my untrained ears, the room was empty. I knew I must look a right state so I’d hoped for a few minutes to myself to at least run a brush through my hair.

There was nothing else for it but to open my eyes. I could tell that it was early evening as the setting sun was giving the room a soft, warm glow.

I lay looking at the ceiling for a few moments.

Then a voice came from my left.

Before I could control myself, I started crying.

To my eternal relief, Mrs Wilson didn’t come and offer to help.

When I’d recovered my composure, I said to her,

“You can’t be serious. You really want me to come and tell a load of adolescent girls about a man who does not want to be a man and why he’s having his dick cut off?” I blurted out rather angrily when I’d recovered at least some sort of composure.

I dragged a handkerchief out of my handbag and tried to dry my eyes without making too much of a mess of my makeup. 

After dinner, I told Luca about the auction and the antics of Mrs Federov, he Luca laughed his head off. His board meeting had gone very well so we were both in a great frame of mind. He’d also been meeting with his lawyers about something to do with the children. He was a little reluctant to tell me and I didn’t want to push it.

Our brief period of happiness didn’t last and we were brought down to earth with a bump when two days later when we were just about to leave for the airport and our flight to London when Gina arrived on the scene.

Christmas was soon forgotten as Luca and I spent most of January in Genoa. There were lots of things going on at the shipyard. I began to get a bit worried about him. It was as if the whole world was on his shoulders and despite my gentle probing he wouldn’t share his troubles with me.

At the end of the first week in February, I’d just returned to the Apartment with some food when the phone rang.

“Si?”
A voice spoke heavily accented Russian to me.
“Да, это Fran” {yes. I am Fran}

The next two months were hectic to say the least. Luca and I went everywhere together. But it was all business, business and yet more business. Most nights we just collapsed into bed exhausted. There is such a thing as too much wining and dining and the endless travelling was always a pain in the bum.

The gentle knocking of the maid on the door eventually roused me from my slumbers.

I didn’t want to move so I shouted out,

“Please. Come back later.”

The knocking stopped and all was quiet once more apart from the muted traffic noise coming from the world outside the Hotel.

I relaxed back onto the bed and closed my eyes once more.

When I first told Saffy that I was going travelling and despite her protestations and comments such as ‘Yeah Right’, I really meant it. 

As I prepared to leave the country to start my travels, I was not really sure where I would end up. I called it, ‘Going with the Flow’. My problem was deciding where to start.

“Please come inside. We have been expecting you.”

I was speechless. What on earth was going on?

Nevertheless, I went inside the house.

With a thud, she shut the heavy door behind me.

“Let me introduce myself properly this time, I’m Claudia. Shall we go into the Kitchen? I am sure that you must have a million questions?”

Still speechless, I nodded my understanding. I followed her into the huge kitchen. As I entered I was aroused by the smell of fresh coffee and even better, fresh bread.

With a bit of trepidation, I sent off the application for my new passport the following day after a quick trip to my lawyers.

When I’d come into all that money, I invested some of it in the shop and also just under £10M in a number of properties in and around the city. Property in Bath is really expensive. I employed a Solicitor to manage the properties on my behalf through a company I set up called ‘Safnis Properties Ltd’.

My impromptu visit to my Lawyers that day was to formally change my name to Fran from Francis.

Two women were sorting through a pile of clothes. They’d been bought as a job lot from a local firm of ‘House Clearers’.

“I’ll go and get the lunch today.” Said the very petite raven haired one to the taller brunette.

“You carry on sorting out this little lot,” she added.

“Gee thanks Saffy. We all know how you hate this job,” replied the brunette.

I’m the brunette. I’m Fran and the other woman is Saffron or Saffy for short. We both work in a shop selling Antique and Classic Clothes.

Emma Price a.k.a Blondie had always been a looker ever since primary school. Only the teachers and her parents ever called her ‘Emma’. With her naturally blonde hair and brilliant green eyes she was the best looking 5 year old for miles around.

Some parents would have put her into what the Americans call ‘Beauty Pagents’ but Blondie was a real tomboy at heart. She was part of our little gang from the very day that her family moved into Kirdford Close. There was Simon, Trev, Alan and me, Joe. She was just one of us.

Now that Chloe was out in the open things moved along nicely at the house.

Angela more or less took control of Chloe’s metamorphosis from ‘yeah but you are a man aren’t you?’ into something more like ‘what are you doing on Friday?’ sort of appearance. She thinned his eyebrows a bit but not too much so that when Martin had to make an appearance it wouldn’t be obvious that the was a cross-dresser.