Chris Reynolds, always wanting to please his family as he was growing up, knew that something about himself was amiss: His body was just plain wrong! This sense of wrongness pervaded him and eventually sank him into a deep depression.

One fateful day, deciding to end it all, Chris wound up being caught in a freakish accident in which he was killed - only he didn't die!

Finding himself alive was the first thing he was surprised at. Finding his lifelong prayers answered, through some sort of swapping of bodies during death with another person - a girl equally as depressed as himself, and in a similar situation as he - except she had always desired to physically be a man, was simply amazing!

Chris, now Christina, pursues living life to it's fullest, but once again realizes something missing from her life. Will she find her answer?

Just what will Christina do with her Second Chance?

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Tanya has a new website where she will display her latest works first and then to BigCloset TopShelf a few weeks later is here at Tanya Allan's Tales .
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The Legal Stuff: Second Chance © 2009, 2010 Tanya Allan
 
This work is the property of the author, and the author retains full copyright, in relation to printed material, whether on paper or electronically. Any adaptation of the whole or part of the material for broadcast by radio, TV, or for stage plays or film, is the right of the author unless negotiated through legal contract. Permission is granted for it to be copied and read by individuals, and for no other purpose. Any commercial use by anyone other than the author is strictly prohibited, and may only be posted to free sites with the express permission of the author.
 
This work is fictitious, and any similarities to any persons, alive or dead, are purely coincidental. Mention is made of persons in public life only for the purposes of realism, and for that reason alone. Certain licence is taken in respect of medical procedures, terms and conditions, and the author does not claim to be the fount of all knowledge.
 
The author accepts the right of the individual to hold his/her (or whatever) own political, religious and social views, and there is no intention to deliberately offend anyone. If you wish to take offence, that is your problem.
 
This is only a story, and it contains adult material, which includes sex and intimate descriptive details pertaining to genitalia. If this is likely to offend, then don’t read it.
 
Please enjoy.
Tanya
 
 

 
 
 
Prologue
 
 
“Chris! The car is here. Come on, we have to go now,” Dad shouted from the bottom of the stairs.

“Stand up and let me look at you,” Mama said, so I obliged for her.

I caught my reflection in the full-length mirror and smiled. I was about as happy as anyone could possibly be, but then I was getting married.

Mama smiled.

“Vacker! You look very good,” Mama said. Even after thirty years in England, she still sounded so Swedish. She had understatement down to a fine art.

She hugged me.

“I am very proud of you, Chris.”

“Oh, Mama, I could never have got here without you and Dad.” I said.

I looked at my reflection one last time, thinking back to that time I had looked at myself in the mirror, only a short year ago, when I decided to kill myself.
 
 
Chapter 1
 
 
August 2001
 
Why do moronic radio DJs have to talk such utter drivel at such terrible times of the day? I squinted at my alarm clock, just enough to get the range, and shot my hand out and made the necessary violent connection to shut the patronising little bastard up.

06:45 - the red digits winked at me. Bullying me until I dragged myself from under my duvet and padded, reluctantly, to the bathroom. Another dreary Monday, the promised glorious sunshine meant the office would be insufferable, as most of my colleagues were on their holidays, so going in would be a complete waste of time and effort. Added to my general misery and depression, I had almost had enough.

I looked at my reflection in the bathroom mirror. The reason for my misery stared back at me with a mocking smile. I am twenty-four years old, a specialist in computer graphic design and working for one of the best advertising companies in the UK. I’m over 6’01”, broad in the shoulders and very fit. I have my blond-hair cut as short as I can without being accused of belonging to a right wing paramilitary organisation with dishonest intentions on Poland. I keep my hair so short, not to make a political or social statement, but just because I’m lazy, and it takes no time to deal with it at 06:45 every working day.

My features could be described as regular, with the Scandinavian high cheekbones and blue eyes from my mother’s side, and despite my height and build, my mother still calls me her handsome little boy. I have large hands and feet, and yes, the saying was true, or, at least in my case it is.

I had excelled at school, having attended Dr Challoner’s Grammar School in Amersham. There, I ended up representing the school at rugby, soccer, cricket, athletics and managed three A grades at A level, allowing me to move on to Cambridge to study graphic design and advertising. I secured a 2.1 BA degree, and was snapped up by my current employer. It was only a minor back injury that prevented me from rowing in the first eight in the 1998 boat race.

That is the reason for my misery.

I am just too damn perfect!

My parents are so proud of me that it hurt. My younger sister, Ingrid, thinks that I can all-but walk on water. The extended family use me as a role model for all my cousins, both in the UK and in Scandinavia. I am just so bloody wonderful.

Oh no, I’m not!

I was four when I realised that someone had made a mistake.

I was six when I really found out what the mistake was, and that I couldn’t fix it with a Swiss army knife and some sticky tape. The doctor and child psychologist were quite adamant about that one.

I was ten when I understood the real depth of the problem, and twelve when I started crying myself to sleep nearly every night.

Throughout all those years, I had prayed the same prayer every night. For all that time, every morning, as with this morning, I checked, feeling the same despair when I realised that my prayer has not yet been answered.

You see, I knew that inside this good looking, athletic, intelligent, young man, with enormous potential (as my boss put it.), was a shy and sensitive young woman, who cared not one jot about sport, ambition or the one hundred and one other young women who saw me as a potential husband.

My pubescent years had been a bloody nightmare, as I grew into the big and strong young man. I went through incredible turmoil, as I learned new words, like transvestite, transsexual, homosexual, hermaphrodite, and several unrepeatable ones, which meant the same sort of things.

I realised I wasn’t gay when a man tried to pick me up in Greece on a holiday when I was sixteen. The whole idea sickened me, and I could not imagine anything quite so gross as what he suggested.

When I was sixteen, I tried dressing up, and, yes, I liked seeing myself as a woman, but at nearly six foot, with my sister’s clothes on, I looked a joke. Ingrid was a good eight inches shorter than I was, even then.

I read that transvestites dressed for the sexual thrill. I got no thrill, just a feeling of confusion as I wanted not just to look like a girl, but I actually wanted to BE a girl. I got no sexual thrill at all. As I lay on my bed, wearing the feminine clothes next to my skin, I imagined a man opening my legs and on finding a moist vagina, he sank his erect penis into me up to the hilt. I had an instant ejaculation from a semi-flaccid penis, and had to clean my sister’s knickers quickly.

I was so riddled with guilt that I never repeated the dressing experience. However, the fantasies continued. I was always female, and the faceless men would make love to me in as many ways as my imagination could fathom. Boy, could my imagination reach some depths!

Yet, in the real world, I had no interest in seeing males as potential sexual partners. Indeed, I had several girlfriends, and even made love on a couple of occasions. They were not dreadfully successful, neither the girlfriends, nor the sexual experiences. Then again, they weren’t total disasters, and I suppose I conducted myself satisfactorily.

My mother, bless her, would send me over to Sweden every year. I went to stay with her prolific family, where strings of very presentable Swedish girls would be introduced to me, in the vain hope that I “would meet a very nice Swedish girl and settle down and have babies.”

How could I tell her that I wanted to be the very nice girl and I wanted to settle down and have the babies? Besides, I knew that I hadn’t a snowball’s chance in hell of ever realising my dream. Still, I prayed every night.

I opened the bathroom cupboard and stared once more at the bottle of sleeping pills. I had acquired them a few months previously when I wrenched my shoulder playing squash, and the doctor prescribed them as the pain was stopping me sleeping. I had never used them.

Every day these pills would whisper to me, “Take us, we’re painless and quick. All your worries would be over.”

This particular morning the whisper was deafening.

It took all my resolve and willpower to shut the cupboard and shave. I knew that tomorrow, the whisper would be back, and even louder. Tomorrow - I will do it tomorrow. I told myself.

I dressed in my grey suit, pale blue shirt and a dark tie, and walked to work. I stopped at a little coffee shop for my breakfast, and read my paper. My small flat was just twenty minutes walk from the office in London’s West End. It was nothing special, but I had been there for a couple of years now. It had nearly doubled in value, and it gave me the privacy to be miserable.

As I had predicted, the office was running on two cylinders, as most of the staff were on holiday. I always took my holidays during the off-season, as I tended to stay with relatives either here or in Sweden. The girls in the office had a bet on as to who could get me into bed first. I had found a copy of the sweep sheet on the photocopier. I smiled, as they were all going to be disappointed.

I had many casual friends of both genders. In truth though, I was much happier and more relaxed with women. The problem was my appearance, the girls would see me as a predatory male, so depending whether they were in the market or not, altered their attitude towards me accordingly. I just wanted to be friends, but it didn’t work like that.

One girl, Stephanie, was, as she put it, an irredeemable dyke. She and I got on famously. We both got hideously pissed at an office party. She tried picking up a very attractive typist, who had been equally determined to end up in my bed. After being rejected by her target, Stephanie witnessed my poor handling of rejecting the same girl’s advances, and we ended up on the sofa, discussing gender peculiarities.

She was, ironically, a very attractive woman. About 5’ 6”, with a nice figure, but as she always wore slightly masculine attire, it was never displayed to her best advantage. She had dark curly hair, which she kept almost as short as mine.

I had noticed with a smirk, that her name was not on the list I had found on the photocopier. I thanked her for not being in the market. She thanked me for being non-judgmental, and a decent person (for a bloke). Neither of us was interested in the other, in any sexual sense, so as a result we became firm friends. Had I not been so troubled, I would have fancied her rotten. She only dressed down to dissuade all ardent male admirers.

In fact, so much so, she was the only person with whom I had shared my inner secrets with, one evening when she popped round for some pizza and a chat. She had simply nodded.

“I thought you were gay to start with, but you never looked at the blokes, so I knew you weren’t. This explains a lot. What are you going to do about it?” she had asked.

I didn’t know then and I still didn’t know. I had looked into sex change operations and it was all a bit silly. I was over six foot for Pete’s sake. I was built like a brick shit house, with size eleven feet. I wouldn’t really make a convincing woman, surgery or not. It would take a team of surgeons several months to get me half-way decent, and I wasn’t prepared to accept half a job.

As a result, I had done nothing, so the pills whispered to me every morning.

I got down to the bit of work that needed doing and lost myself in the computer world of design.

“Coming to lunch, Chris?” one of the girls, Karen, asked, bringing me back to the real world.

I looked at the clock, 13:00. Time flies when you are having fun, I thought.

“Yeah, okay. Where are you going?” I said.

“I thought I’d pick up a sandwich and a drink, and pop over to the park.”

“Okay, I’ll get my wallet from my jacket. It’s too warm to wear it,” I said, joining her in the lift a few moments later.

We sat on the grass and munched our expensively indifferent sandwiches, and slurped our hideously over-priced drinks. She was a pretty girl, who was engaged to a young man who worked for a merchant bank. I had met him and thought him a graceless pompous ass. He was an old Etonian, and I took instant dislikes to old Etonians.

I read the rest of my paper and at ten to two we started back. I was reading an interesting article on reincarnation by some woman who claimed to have lived at least six lives before this one. I was not a believer in this particular aspect of spirituality, but then I was prepared to accept anything, with good evidence.

We reached the pedestrian crossing, where I automatically pressed the button and waited. Karen was saying something to me, I heard the bleeps, and glanced up to see the green walking man on the traffic light. I stepped into the road, heard the screech of brakes, and everything went black.
 
 
I felt no pain. I suppose part of me realised that some type of vehicle had hit me, but there was no pain at all.

So, this was death!

Or was it my last dream before everything blinked out into nothingness?

I was very detached. The surprising thing was that I found that I couldn’t care less. My only thought was, “Thank fuck. I don’t have to take those bloody pills now, and my parents won’t have to deal with a suicide.”

I even felt quite happy, as I waited for the nothingness to come.

There was a swirling mist, and then I dreamt that I was standing in a room, or rather I was in a room, as I don’t think I was aware of having a body, let alone any legs to stand on.

A man was standing there. I assume he had legs, but I couldn’t see any, as the long robe came down to the thing upon which he was standing. I say thing, as it had no substance, it just existed, like solid air, but not.

“Hello. What are you doing here?” he asked, surprised.

Great. I thought, even when I die I make a balls up!

“I’m Chris Reynolds, I think I’m dead,” I said.

“Hmm, I don’t think so. But let me see,” he said, and a large ledger just appeared in his hand.

He opened it, looked at the open pages for a while and turned to the last page.

“No, I thought as much, you are not due until……” he paused, giving me a sly smile, “well, not a for a long while yet.”

“Bollocks!” I said, frustrated.

His white bushy eyebrows shot up. I suddenly felt guilty.

“Oh, pardon me, I didn’t mean….” I started to explain, but he just smiled.

“Ah, you thought I was the Boss, didn’t you? It’s okay, I’m not. You wouldn’t warrant an audience with him, in any case,” he said, and I felt a bit miffed. After all, I had prayed every night since I could remember.

He smiled and said, “You haven’t really got the right idea about prayer, have you?”

“Haven’t I?”

“Not really. I mean look,” he said opening up my ledger. A piece of paper, wound like a till roll, opened up and just kept on going.

“7,340 prayers, all for the same thing, almost word for word,” he said.

“Yeah, that was over twenty years,” I said, quite proud of myself.

“Really?”

“Yeah, and please note, never answered,” I said, a little crossly.

“Ah, you made the mistake that so many humans make.”

“What?”

“You blamed the Creator for something He didn’t do.”

I was quiet, as he was correct, I did blame God.

“He never had any hand in your conception, delivery or up bringing. Whatever you are is a matter for the world, and the world is a fallen place,” he said.

I frowned, as he had lost me.

“Look,” he said, not unkindly. “Adam and Eve made a choice in the garden, and that choice separated mankind from the Creator. He respects that, and only helps those who give themselves back to Him, free and gratis, with no conditions attached. So it’s no good blaming Him with one breath, and then demanding He make good something He never did in the first place, with the next.”

“Oh,” I said, suddenly understanding.

“Oh, indeed!”

“I didn’t know,” I said.

He looked at me closely.

“Hmm.”

“Honestly, I didn’t. If it’s any consolation I apologise unreservedly, and withdraw any blame,” I said, actually meaning it.

“Hmm,” he said, looking once again at the ledger.

I just watched him. He was a tall man, if he even was a man. His hair was white, as were his beard and moustache. His eyes were golden in colour, and his skin was like burnished bronze. His robe was so white as to be dazzling.

“Am I dreaming?” I asked.

“Not really, it all depends on what you consider a dream.”

“Are you an angel?” I asked.

“Something like that,” he muttered.

“Am I going to be here long?” I asked.

“I shouldn’t worry, time doesn’t exist here,” he said, still reading.

“Oh,” I said.

“You are a bit of a selfish so and so, really, aren’t you?” he said.

“Probably, but then when one is as miserable as I was, one doesn’t really care,” I said.

“Hmm. I suppose there is some merit in that.”

I laughed, a short and humourless laugh.

“Look, I hate to be a bore, but either let me die or put me back. I won’t be long in any case, I really have had enough,” I said.

He looked sharply at me.

“I told you, it isn’t your time.”

“I heard, but to be honest, I don’t want to go back. I’ve had enough, so, if it’s all the same to you, just let me die,” I said.

“Really? You do realise that with your track record, there is no guarantee of going up?” he said.

“Going down could be no worse to what I have had to live through for the last twenty four years,” I said bitterly, and his eyebrows disappeared into his hair this time.

“I think it is, you know, quite a bit worse, if the truth be told,” he said.

I shrugged, or at least if I had any shoulders I would have done.

“All right, I will put you back, if you agree not to be such a selfish little person. And stop blaming God for things He didn’t do,” he said.

“I suppose,” I said, grumpily.

He stared at me. A telephone materialised at his elbow and rang. He answered it and spoke briefly into it, staring at me the whole time. He hung up and the phone disappeared.

“I’ll tell you what, I’ll give you the choice, you can go back as you were, but with the feelings gone forever. Or you can go back as you have prayed for,” he said.

I looked at him, but suddenly felt a bolt of electricity surge through my body, the body that wasn’t there.

I lost him and the room. I cried, “I never said. I never got to choose!”
 
 
“We have a pulse! Patient is conscious,” a voice said. Something was over my eyes, so I couldn’t see.

“Thank God. I thought we had lost this one. How are vitals?” said another voice.

“Strong pulse, blood pressure normal, breathing normal.”

“All right, tell A & E that we have a critical RTA on way. Fractures to arm and possibly ribs, head and maybe internal,” the second voice said.

Whoopee! I thought, this sounds fun.

I felt myself being lifted, and heard vehicle doors open and close. Then I passed out.
 
 
I came to again and opened my eyes. My head hurt like the blazes, but something was in my mouth. I choked, so a nurse removed the ventilator.

“Doctor. Patient is conscious again.”

Two fuzzy faces entered my field of vision, as I tried to focus. It almost worked.

“Hello, can you hear me?” a male voice said. I nodded.

“Good, I’m Doctor Phillips, you’re in hospital,” he said, stating the obvious.

I nodded.

“You were in an accident,” he said, as he swam slowly into full focus. He had a baldhead, which shone in the bright lights.

No? Really? I thought I had won the lottery. Silly sod! I nodded again.

“You have sustained a head injury. Does it hurt?”

What was this guy on? Fool? I nodded again, perhaps he would go away, and I could curl up and die.

“You have also broken your arm.”

I lifted my right arm, it was fine, and so I tried my left one.

“Arrgh.”

“So you can feel that?”

I am going to hit him with it when I’m better, I thought to myself, and nodded again, feeling like a twit.

“Can you remember the accident?”

I frowned, shaking my head. All I remembered was being given the choice, and not being around to make my selection. I felt so frustrated, I shook my head again and started to cry. Why hadn’t I just died?

“It’s all right. It is quite normal to not remember some things,” the doctor said, misunderstanding my tears completely.

“Can you remember your name?”

He really was a silly sod. Of course, I could remember my name. Couldn’t I? I thought for a moment.

“Chris Reynolds,” I said, triumphantly. I was disappointed as it came out as a croaky squeak.

“Well done Chris! Can you tell me what day it is?”

I thought for a moment, and remembered the alarm clock, and that moron of a DJ who twittered on about it being Monday.

“Monday,” I said.

“Good. Okay, you have quite a nasty bump to your head. No fracture, but you gave us all quite a fright. You were severely concussed, and we will keep you in for twenty-four hours just in case of compression. Do you understand?”

I nodded.

“A friend of yours from work was with you, and she is here. There is also a policeman who wants to speak to you. Do you feel up to seeing him yet?”

I nodded.

“Okay, but take it easy, and don’t try too much. The nurse will be here, so if you get tired, just tell her. All right?”

I nodded again.

Karen came running in.

“Oh, Chris, thank God. I was terrified. The paramedics had to jump start you. They said your heart stopped.”

“Really?” I croaked. I had a sore throat from where they had placed the ventilator.

“Yeah, anyway I have your stuff, and called your mother on your mobile. She’s on her way. I waited until they told me you were going to be okay before I called, the policeman made sure of that,” she said.

“Thanks,” I croaked.

“Yeah, they said that it was your hair that stopped you being killed. If you hadn’t got such lovely long hair, you’d have smashed your skull on the road.”

“My hair?” I asked, confused.

“Yeah, anyway, I’ve got your shoulder bag and shoes. It was lucky you were wearing that sleeveless dress, otherwise they would have had to cut it off to fix your arm. They had to cut your bra off to give you the jump-start thingy. Apparently, the wires in the bra would have caused real problems!”

Bra?

My head hurt and my mind was in a whirl. I was hearing things - Bra, hair, shoulder bag, dress?

This was not right. I reached my right arm up and felt my head. All I could feel was a bandage, but I felt some long hair by my neck. I then felt something on my earlobe. It was a hole, I felt the other side, and there was one there too.

“It’s okay, both your earrings are still there, I checked, they’re in a bag by the bed,” Karen said, no doubt seeing my action as one of concern.

I looked at my hand, and stared at something that wasn’t mine. The hand attached to my arm was small and slender with long well shaped nails varnished in a red colour. This was a girl’s hand.

I stared at it, mesmerised. I flexed it, opened it closed it and looked at it from every angle.

“Have you hurt that hand too?” Karen asked.

“Huh?” I said.

“They said you were lucky to live, the van came right through a red light.”

I was beginning to realise that I must have made a choice after all!

The implications were enormous. Karen had lunched with Chris Reynolds, the tall man, with big feet and a hidden secret. Yet, here was the same Karen chatting away to a female Chris, as if I was the same person. Talk about weird.

I let my hand fall onto my chest and felt something else. I had breasts.

I slipped my hand under the sheet and felt both perfectly formed and not inconsiderable mounds of flesh.

Bloody Hell!

I felt a rushing in my ears, experiencing a sense of excitement mixed equally with panic.

What in hell did I do now?

How could I tell my parents about the choice?

Why did Karen not remember me as a man?

“Miss Reynolds?” said a male voice. I was startled back to almost being with the rest of the world.

I turned and saw a tall police officer by the door. He was in his early twenties, with short fair hair, and a very nervous smile. He looked quite good-looking, I thought.

What?

I went over my thought pattern again. I looked at the young cop, and was aware that I was looking at him in a totally different light.

OH MY GOD! I’M A GIRL........

I struggled to try to sit up.

Mistake!

I then experienced pillow-spin without the pleasure of imbibing the alcoholic refreshment.

Nausea, headache, and pale face, beads of sweat… urgh!

I lay down again.

“I’m sorry, I can come back later of you want?” the lad said, looking worried. Lad indeed. He was my age.

“I’m okay; just a bit woozy,” I said. My voice sounded different, a girl’s voice.

“Do you remember anything at all?” he asked, with his report book out, pen at the ready.

I frowned, attempting to organise my brain. Inside, I was screaming with joy, but my body just felt battered.

“I remember pressing the pedestrian light button, I remember seeing the green man and hearing the beeps. I stepped off, I just head a screech of brakes or tyres, and then nothing,” I said, slowly and deliberately.

“Did you see the van?”

“It could have been a water buffalo for all I knew,” I said, and he laughed. He had a nice laugh; it went with his nice face. What was I like?

“Okay, thanks. Oh, one thing. Karen calls you Chris, what’s your full name?” he asked.

Before I could reply, Karen spoke.

“Hey Chris, I’ve got your keys, how about I drop by your flat and pick you up a nightie and some clothes and stuff?” she offered.

“Yeah, could you? That would be great,” I heard myself say. Karen gave me a hug, and left me with the policeman.

I stared at him. What the hell was my full name? I knew that when I got up that morning I had been Christian John Reynolds. Who the hell I was now, was anybodies guess.

“Christina! Oh my God! What’s happened?” it was my mother, with Dad in tow.

“Hi Mama,” I said, waiting for the ‘what has happened to my little boy?’ bit. Then, what she had called me sunk in. She knew me as a girl!

I turned to the policeman.

“I’m Christina Reynolds,” I said.

“Do you have a middle name?”

“It’s Jane,” said mother, “Oh my poor baby, are you in awful pain?” Her Swedish accent was very pronounced when she was worried.

“I’m fine Mama. Look, I need to talk to this nice policeman, could you be an absolute angel and get me something to drink, like a coke or something? And you could speak to the doctor, and maybe he would tell you all about it.”

She looked at me, as if to say, ‘I know you are trying to get rid of me, but I’ll pretend that I don’t.’

“Okay, sweetheart,” she said, dragging poor Dad out again.

“Sorry about that, but my mother does tend to take over,” I said.

“That’s okay, my mum is the same. She can’t get her head round the fact that I’m grown up now,” the policeman said.

“I can’t just call you, ‘the nice policeman’, what’s your name?” I said.

“It’s Mark, Mark Williams,” he said, blushing.

“Hi Mark, I’m Chris. I’m sorry, but I must look a real mess,” I heard myself say.

“No, not at all, you look lovely. That is, you look fine, um, you don’t look a mess at all.”

“How come you’re here, it makes it look very serious?” I asked, so he could get over his embarrassment.

“I saw the accident happen, so I was there when your heart stopped. I’ve never seen anyone die before,” he said, and suddenly sounded very young.

“Well, I didn’t die,” I said.

He smiled.

“I’m ever so pleased you didn’t, but they had to get the defibrillator out on you,” he said.

I knew enough that they usually placed the defib onto bare skin, so my good hand flew to my new breasts. He had the decency to blush.

“Well, it seems you know me a lot better than I know you,” I said with a smile and he grinned sheepishly at me.

“I got your address from your friend Karen, but I need your post code and telephone number,” he said.

I gave them to him, my mobile, work and flat numbers.

“Thanks. I’ve written down your statement: - “I remember pressing the pedestrian light button, I remember seeing the green man, and hearing the beeps. I stepped off, and I just head a screech of brakes or tyres, and then nothing.” Is there anything you want to add?” he said.

“No. I don’t remember anything else. What happened to the driver?”

“He was arrested for dangerous driving. We didn’t think you’d make it, and so it would be causing death by dangerous driving. He was reading his A-Z map at the time, and sailed through the red light. He’s very cut up about it all.”

“I bet he is. What’ll happen to him?”

“He’ll be reported for the offences and released. I called in when the doctor said you were okay.”

“Oh.”

“He asked if he could come and visit you. We told him it was up to you.”

I thought for a moment. If it hadn’t been for this unknown dopey van driver, I would not now be in hospital. More importantly, I wouldn’t be a girl either.

“If it will help.”

“That’s really decent of you. Many people wouldn’t agree to something like this. I’ll let the station know, he’s waiting outside the front,” Mark said, and he left me alone for a moment.

Not for long, for my parents were back and my mother gave me a cold carton of orange juice.

She sat down and looked at my arm. The forearm was covered in a pink fibreglass cast, stretching from my wrist up to my elbow.

“The doctor says you have a fractured radius, near the wrist, and it broke when the van hit you. Your ribs and hips are bruised, you banged your head and are concussed. It was only your lovely hair that stopped you fracturing your skull.”

“I know, Mama, Karen told me.”

“Nice girl, that Karen, she called me as soon as she knew you were alright.”

“Yes, she’s popping round to my flat and is bringing me some clothes, so I have something to wear when I leave tomorrow.”

“We’ll collect you, so you can come and stay at home for a while, until your arm is better,” Mama said. Dad just smiled at me, and squeezed my hand. We never needed to speak, he and I, it was nice, as he was always so supportive and kind.

I knew better than argue with my mother, besides I was feeling shaky, so a bit of spoiling was fine by me. More importantly, I needed time to come to terms with who I now was.
 
 
I must have dozed off, because when I woke up, my parents had gone. I was alone again, apart from the occasional nurse, who came and made sure that I wasn’t lapsing into a coma.

I asked the nurse whether I was allowed to go to the loo. I was attached to a drip, so the whole lot came too. I was a little dizzy to start, but after I sat on the edge of the bed for a bit, the world stopped spinning, and I was able to shuffle to the loo. The first thing I noticed was my height. I was quite a bit shorter, as I thought I had lost at least five inches. The hospital gown was not the most flattering piece of attire, but I reached the loo and gratefully sat down.

It was a large disabled toilet, and I had my mobile drip stand along side me. I did what I had to do, but was faced with my new genitalia for the first time. Using some toilet tissue I wiped, and could not lose the silly grin from my face. I spent ages just looking. I slipped the gown off, and examined the rest of me. The bruises were quite spectacular, but I guessed the colours would come out further over the next few days. My ribs hurt like the blazes. I looked at my face in the mirror, and gasped. The bandage that kept the dressing on the cut to the rear right had side of my head did not hide the fact that I was a very different Chris to the one I had looked at this morning.

I was still blonde, the kind of Nordic pale blonde that is almost silver. I still had my blue eyes and the high cheekbones, but the face was different, it was beautiful. My nose was smaller, chin less pronounced and softer, somehow, but the full lips were the biggest change. I thought that I looked tired, as my eyes had dark rings around them. I had some smudged make up on that needed repair, but I couldn’t help but smile at what I saw. The Creator had more than answered my prayer.

I had just put my robe back on when the nurse came to see if I was all right. She was very surprised at the grinning idiot who met her and almost bounced back to her bed. She told me that my parents said they would come back in the morning and would take me home as soon as the doctor was happy I could go. It was nearly six pm, and she asked if I would like something to eat. I did not fancy much, as I was still a little light headed, and asked for a sandwich.

She wanted to check my dressing, so she took off the huge white bandage and the dressing underneath. I was relieved, as there was nothing to see except a little dried blood on my hair, showing where I had been cut. I had a huge bump, and it was very tender. She replaced the small dressing and left me alone.

I had only been back in bed for a few minutes when Karen arrived with some clothes and make up from my flat. I immediately put on a nightie and asked her to put some make up for me, as my arm made it difficult to do. I watched her so as to get a rough idea as to how to do it for myself.

She was very chatty, telling me that she had seen our department head, Mr Robbins, and told him what had happened. He wanted me to know that I wasn’t to worry, just to get better.

“Steve asked after you,” she said, grinning as if this should mean something.

“Steve?” I asked, blankly.

“You know, brooding Steve? The dark haired guy in the corner? Come on, you and Steve are good mates. You can’t pretend that you can’t remember Steve.”

“Oh,” I said, I just twigged when she described the corner desk and the dark hair. Stephanie. Bloody Hell! This was getting complicated!

“Oh, indeed. Didn’t you two go out for a while?” Karen asked.

I shrugged and shook my head.

“It sounds terrible, but there are huge holes in my memory,” I said, quite truthfully. I could remember my life as Christian, but not as Christina.

“Really? Do you remember me?”

“Yes, and my parents, and lots of other things. It is not people so much as events. I mean, I can’t remember what we did last week.”

“Oh. Does the doctor know?”

I shrugged.

“You ought to tell him.”

“You reckon?”

“Yes.”

At that moment Mark, the policeman, knocked on the open door of my room. My heart gave a little flutter as I realised I was pleased to see him.

“Hi Christina. I’ve brought the van driver. I spoke to the doctor, and he says it is fine, but only if you agree,” he said.

“Okay, but just for a couple of minutes,” I said, smiling shyly.

He smiled back and reddened a little.

“You look much better,” he said and disappeared.

“Being hit by a van hasn’t stopped you flirting, then?” Karen said with a smirk.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Why didn’t you just slide over and lift the sheet for him?” she said, and dodged as I threw a pillow at her.

I was looking for another missile, when he reappeared with a small man in a dirty white tee shirt. He was about thirty, with very short hair that was receding at the front. He had one earring, and looked miserable.

“Christina, this is Robert Clarke.”

“Miss Reynolds?” he said.

“Hello, you were driving the van?” I said. I thought he was going to cry.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. When I saw you lying there, and the paramedic said he got no pulse, I wanted to die instead of you. You looked so beautiful, I felt terrible,” he said, and then he did cry.

I reached out with my good arm, and touched him on the shoulder.

“Hey. I am okay. A few bumps and bruises, and the odd broken bone, but I’ll go home tomorrow. So don’t beat yourself up too much. The police will do that for you,” I said, and he almost smiled.

“Even the police have been good to me. I don’t deserve it. I just wanted to say that I was sorry. I’m so pleased you didn’t die.”

“Strangely enough, so am I,” I said, and smiled at the poor man.

“I bought you these,” Rob said, and produced a small bunch of flowers. They weren’t much, but considering what he had been through, he probably couldn’t find anything else.

“They are lovely. Thanks,” I said, and Karen put them into my water jug.

“If there is anything I can do?” he asked.

“Just one thing. When you get your licence back, please don’t run into anyone else,” I said.

“I’m never driving again. Not after seeing you lying there and the paramedics working to save your life. I really thought I’d killed you.”

“Well, you didn’t, so you have to pick up life and keep going,” I said and he nodded. I looked at Mark. He touched Robert on the arm.

“We have to go now, Robert,” he said.

“Yes. Thank you for seeing me, Miss Reynolds, it must be hard for you.”

“Not as hard as it must be for you. Look Robert, I accept your apology, I know you didn’t do it on purpose. Let’s both just get on with our lives, shall we?” I said, and he smiled, sort of.

Mark took him away and Karen giggled.

“He looked ever so guilty,” she said.

“So I should think, the silly arse nearly killed me,” I said, crossly.

“You were very nice to him,” said Mark from the door.

“Well, he has to live with himself, it was the least I could do,” I replied.

“Well, I hope things heal quickly. Take care,” he said, and he made to go.

“Thanks Mark. Bye. Maybe I’ll see you again?” I said, and Karen giggled.

“Yeah, maybe,” he said, and smiled hopefully.

Then he was gone.
 
 
“Well, you seem better. I have to get home. Do you need anything else? I can bring it in tomorrow,” Karen asked.

“No thanks, Karen. Um, do I seem different to you?” I asked.

“Different, in what way?”

“Any way, I suppose. I just feel different, somehow.” This sounded really odd. I had to know.

She looked at me, and shook her head.

“Not really, everything considered, you seem just the same as always. Why?”

I shrugged.

“No reason, I just feel weird with bits missing from my memory. You’ve been brilliant, thanks so much,” I said. She gave me my flat keys back, and we had a gentle hug.

“I’ll ring you at your mum’s place, maybe we can get together some time. I know if I had to stay too long with my parents, I’d go bonkers.”

“That would be fun. Bye,” I said, and she left.

I hardly hard time to think about anything when a doctor appeared.

“Hello Christina. I just want to check you’re still okay. How’s the head?” he said.

“Not too bad. Aches a little around the bump and cut, but it’s manageable.”

“Okay, just look at me for a second,” he said, and then checked my eyes and pupils. I had to follow his hand movements, and look at his little torch. He asked me about my focussing, and at the end seemed happy.

“Good. The concussion has passed, and there doesn’t seem to be any compression. However, we just need to keep an eye on you over night. If you get dizzy, nauseous, any headaches, ear aches or anything like that, just let the nurse know.”

“I will, but I feel okay, just a bit sore around the middle.”

“You took a hell of a knock. You were very lucky that you were relaxed, otherwise you may have worse injuries. The arm will be in the cast for four or five weeks, and you may need some physio. But it was your long hair that really saved your life.”

“So everyone keeps saying. Just as well I didn’t cut it.”

“Just as well. Have you been to the loo yet?”

“Yes, I felt a bit woozy, but I managed okay.”

“Excellent. Take it easy, don’t rush anything, your head will ache for a while. The stitches will dissolve, but if you start getting headaches, then go straight to the doctor or local casualty.”

“I will.”

“Right then, try to get some sleep, they will give you pain relief if you need it. My colleague will be on the rounds in the morning, and you should be home for lunch. There is a leaflet here, which tells you about head injuries. Take it with you, and give it to your Mum or anyone you stay with.”

He left me, and I was given an indifferent sandwich, which I devoured and suddenly felt terribly hungry. The nurse was great, and she got me a Mars bar from the machine in the hall.

I watched a little TV and then fell asleep.
 
 
Hospitals are not exactly restful places.

I was woken up at about one in the morning by someone screaming. I went to the loo, and had to inspect myself again. I just couldn’t help grinning. I offered almost constant thanks to the Almighty, and was on Cloud Nine despite the pain and discomfort.

I dozed for a while, but I found that I couldn’t seem to stop touching those parts of me that were so new and wonderful. I was almost afraid to sleep, in case I changed back in the meantime. The nurse was obviously told to check on me every so often, and so that didn’t help.

In the end I managed to sleep a little, only to woken up by a nurse at some ungodly hour to take my temperature and blood pressure. I then had some breakfast of some cornflakes and toast. The doctor came on the rounds, and told me what the other one had said the night before. I rang my mother and told her that I would be discharged at noon.

I was allowed to change into my clothes, and Karen had brought me a white bra, panties, a short denim skirt, and pink top with straps. The clothes I had been wearing had been destroyed when they worked on me on the road, and in the back of the ambulance. I put on the bra and panties, marvelling in the fact that I actually fitted them, and grinned stupidly. My memory went back to the clown that I had looked when, as Christian, I had tried on my little sister’s clothes.

I put on the skirt and top and, sitting by my bed, tried to put on a little make up, one handed. It was not a fantastic success, so I asked the nurse to help.

She was happy to do so, but I thought that I really must try to get the hang of this. There were so many things about being a woman that I was very nervous of leaving the security of the hospital. It didn’t matter that I had wanted this for as long as I could remember, now it was reality, it was all terribly alien and frighteningly new.

She left me feeling much better, so I was amazed at the difference a little mascara could make. I was just tidying up when I heard a voice.

“Chris?”

I turned and saw a tall man, about my age, wearing a nice, but slightly rumpled grey suit and with dark slightly curly hair. He was looking rather drawn and tired. He had obviously cut himself shaving earlier, as there was dried blood on his neck, and little cuts on his jaw line. There was something vaguely familiar about him.

“Yes?” I said, and then the penny dropped. “Shit, Steve, you look terrible!” I said, trying to cover my confusion. I wasn’t the only one to change by the looks of things. How many others had this affected?

“Thanks. You look, well, you look great, considering,” he said. I could see he was trying to gauge whether I was aware of anything different.

“What’s up? You look worried?” I said, wondering whether in this world, he had always been like this, or whether, like me, he had experienced the reverse of what I had.

“Chris, this is going to sound crazy, but did anything weird happen to you yesterday?”

“Yes, I got hit by a van,” I said, smiling to give emphasis to the poor joke.

He sat on the bed and put his head in his hands. He was almost in tears.

“I think I’m going mad! Are you sure nothing odd happened, apart from the accident, I mean?”

“No, like what?”

He ran a hand through his hair, looking distressed.

“I’m pleased you’re okay. You make a stunning girl, by the way,” he said.

“I’m sorry?” I said. I now knew Stephanie/Steve was one other person with memory of ‘before’.

“Oh, shit! This is weird!” he said, and my heart went out to him.

“It’s okay, Stephanie.” I said, very quietly.

He looked up very smartly.

“What did you say?”

“Stephanie. Weird, isn’t it?” I said.

“Oh. Thank God!” he said. “I thought I was going mad.”

“No. Thank God for a different reason,” I said.

He took my good hand, and squeezed it.

“When I heard you’d been hit and that it was touch and go, I thought you had tried to, you know….?” he said.

“Shit, you didn’t?”

He smiled slightly.

“Anyway, then Karen told everyone what had happened, and I was very relieved until she said, ‘she is going to be alright, it washer her long hair that saved her life.’ I then thought, hang on, am I going bonkers or what? Then everyone started saying what a beautiful girl you were, and how dreadful as you were one of the sweetest girls in the world. I said nothing. I really thought I had lost it. I rang the hospital and was told that Christina Reynolds was out of danger and was now in the ward, and should be discharged tomorrow. Chris, I didn’t know what to do. The last I remembered you were a bloke, and it made no sense at all.

“I went home, got hideously drunk, and collapsed fully dressed on my bed. When I woke up, I was wearing this suit, and I am male. My flat is rearranged, and I have just bloke’s stuff everywhere. Shit Chris, I even had to shave this morning.”

“That didn’t go that well, I see,” I said, touching his battered cheek and he smiled.

“Anyway, I pressed the worst of the creases out and went to work in a daze. I kept seeing my reflection in the windows, and had to stop and check it was me. I got in at eight forty, and Mr Robbins asked whether I was alright. Me? Shit, he thought that I was in a state because of you, so I felt really guilty. He told me to get my arse down here and see you, and tell you that they’re all thinking of you, and to hurry up and get better.”

I started to laugh, and within a couple of moments, we are both laughing like a couple of fools. The nurse came in, and said, “Hello, you must be Christina’s boyfriend, don’t make her laugh too much, her ribs are still sore.” That made us laugh even more, and we both had tears rolling down our cheeks. Steve had his arms wrapped round me, and we just held onto each other.

My ribs hurt, so I stopped laughing a little.

“Let me look at you,” I said, and examined him more closely.

“Here, you really have cut yourself shaving,” I said.

“Yeah, well, I don’t know how you should do it, I just tried to copy the adverts on the telly. They were bloody useless!”

He was now about six foot and broad. He was very good looking and was just a larger and very much more masculine version of Stephanie. He looked good, and I said so. He had the decency to blush.

“How about you?” he said, with a smile.

“Brilliant, isn’t it?” I said, giving a little twirl.

He shook his head.

“I can’t believe this. How?” he asked.

I told him everything I could, and he just shook his head.

“Isn’t it what you really wanted, I mean deep down?” I asked.

“Yes, but they could have given me a little warning. Like this morning, I was just leaving my flat, when my dad phoned. You know my parents, they disowned me when I told them I was a , you know. Anyway, he says, ‘don’t be late on Saturday.’, and I say, ‘for what?’, and he says, ‘Golf, we are playing at Buckinghamshire Golf club, tee off at ten.’ So I say, ‘okay.’ Shit Chris, I’ve never held a bloody golf club in my life.”

I laughed, and squeezed his hand.

“Oh Steve, what a bloody mess. Look, take Friday off, and I will come out with you at Wycombe Heights. There is a par-three course there, and a range. I can’t play with my arm, but I can give you the basics. I would say, have my clubs, but I don’t think they probably exist any more.”

“I’ve clubs, there is a whole bag of the buggers in my flat, together with all sorts of stuff I haven’t a clue about,” Steve was clearly exasperated.

I just smiled and squeezed his hand. He looked a little more relieved now.

“Hey, it’s the same for me. Hidden desires are one thing. Actually having those desires suddenly granted is a different matter,” I said.

“That’s true, but you look wonderful. Even your make up looks good,” he said.

“The nurse had to do that. I claimed I was in too much pain, so what happens from now on, is anyone’s guess,” I said.

He looked at me, and smiled.

“You really are a very pretty girl,” he said, a little shyly.

“You aren’t so bad yourself,” I said with a grin.

“How do you feel?”

“Apart from the bumps and bruises, I have never been happier. How about you?”

“The same, but without the bumps and bruises, the hangover I can cope with,” he said.

“Did old Robbins really think we had a thing going?” I asked.

“Yes, and so did a few of the others. I have no memory as a man at all. How about you?”

“Nothing. It’s so frustrating. Everyone accepts us for what we are now. It’s all beyond me,” I said.

“Is there a chance we could have been?” he asked.

I smiled.

“Oh, I don’t know, you aren’t totally repulsive,” I said, teasing.

“Well, you’re stunning, and I’d be honoured to be associated with you,” he said, semi formally.

I laughed.

“Steve, you’re about the only friend I have, so we can both help each other out here. It’s all too early to start planning the wedding, but I don’t see why we can’t be a little more than friends. However, shall we just get used to what has happened first?” I said.

He grinned.

“I don’t have a problem with that, but do you mind if I give you a hug?”

I shook my head, feeling my heart race a little.

He smiled, and carefully hugged me, and I felt his lips kiss my cheek. I moved slightly, kissed him on the lips, and then our tongues touched. I felt like I had been electrocuted and something happened to me. I seemed to tingle in places that I never knew I had, but the kiss changed into something completely different. His arms held me quite tightly, so I put my good hand behind his head, pulling his head towards me. I felt my new body responding, as I had a warm feeling spread from my lower regions. I also felt a very odd sensation in my breasts.

He broke off first.

“Phew. It didn’t take you long to get the hang of that aspect of being a woman,” he said.

“Sorry. It just sort of happened,” I said, smiling.

“Don’t apologise. It’s just another surprise in a day full of surprises,” he said.

We sat and chatted for a while, just holding hands. It seemed perfectly normal. He was a lot more relaxed now, having definitely cheered up.

“Can I really come and see you at your parent’s home?” he asked.

“Of course, you do know where I live?”

“Haven’t a clue, I hope you can remember,” he said.

I told him the address near Great Missenden, and gave him directions.

“Have you still got that motorbike, or have you suddenly become the owner of a seven series BMW?” I asked.

“I still have the bike, registered to Stephen Andrew Carter, not Stephanie Anne,” he said.

“This is so weird,” I said.

“You said it.”

“But in a wonderful way.”

“Yes, I have to agree. Now I get to kiss beautiful girls in public, and no one looks at me twice. Except enviously,” he said with a chuckle.

“I don’t suppose now you are a bloke, you’ll only fancy other blokes?” I asked, teasing again.

He looked at me, and a slow smile came to his lips.

“No, Christina, absolutely not. I know exactly what I want.”

I blushed and felt very odd.

He reached out and drew me gently to him, and I didn’t exactly beat him off. Before I knew it, we were kissing again, and this was even more passionate than before. It wasn’t so rushed, but my toes curled. I was almost ready to get undressed, and would have given in completely, and I sensed he was the same. It was almost as if we had done this before, in another life, or something. However, there was something else, something holding me back, and I didn’t know what it was.

“Oh. So we are feeling better today?” came a familiar voice.

My mother.

I broke off from the kiss to see my whole family staring at me. Mother was open mouthed; Dad was smiling, while my sister Ingrid was grinning.

“Hi,” I said, very embarrassed.

“Well, Christina, aren’t you going to introduce us to your young man?” Mama said, her Swedish accent even more pronounced than usual.

“Steve, this is my dad and mum, and my sister Ingrid. Folks, this is Steven Carter, we work together,” I said, still very red.

Steve looked about as embarrassed as I was, and mumbled something.

My dad, bless him, simply took Steve’s hand and shook it, warmly.

“Thank you, Steve, for being there for Christina. I know she appreciates you being around, particularly when she feels so frail.”

Frail. Steve looked at me and grinned, he knew exactly how frail I was feeling. Randy, yes; confused, yes; frail, no.

“Well, I had better get back to the office. Nice to meet you all. I’ll ring you later, Chris, if that’s okay?” he said.

I reached out and took his hand, pulled him close, and kissed him right in front of everyone. I just didn’t care anymore. I was a woman, and I was on top of the world.

“Mmm, you’d better. And come and see me,” I said. I turned to Mama,

“It’ll be alright for Steve to stay a few days at the end of the week, won’t it?” I asked.

She looked a bit taken aback, so I grinned at Ingrid.

She had no choice really, as I was twenty-four and hardly a child anymore.

“Of course dear, we do have the SPARE bedroom.”

“So, there’s no excuse now,” I told Steve and he smiled sheepishly.

“Okay, I’ll get Thursday and Friday off if I can. I’ll ring you later. Bye,” he said, kissed me quickly and almost ran from the room.

“He seems a nice guy,” said Dad, bless him.

“Yeah, we have been good friends for ages, but, well, he is just that; a really good friend.”

Ingrid giggled and I smiled at her. She was four years younger than I was, and had just finished her first year at Cambridge. She was the linguist, studying French and European studies. Already fluent in Swedish, her stunning Nordic good looks meant an endless stream of boys were constantly at the door or on the phone. It began to dawn on me that might just have doubled.

“How long have you known him?” Mama asked.

“Since I started working with the firm. He is a couple of years older than I, and has been there a little longer,” I explained.

“How long have you been dating?” she asked.

“About ten minutes,” I said, and she laughed.

“At last. At least I know you aren’t a lesbian,” she said.

“Mother!” I said, embarrassed and yet it was somehow a little funny. No one else would get the joke though.
 
 
Two hours later, we arrived at my old home, and it hadn’t changed at all. Barney, our Flat-coat Retriever came and greeted us like long lost relatives. I looked up at the home that I had left a couple of years before. At least the outside hadn’t changed, but my old room had. Gone were the old posters, and sports trophies, the dark colour scheme and the various dubious souvenirs I had remembered collecting from my travels.

Instead, I found a light and airy room in pale rose and white; a pretty double bed with a red counterpane and a collection of soft toys. There were trophies, but for ballet and horse riding, piano and singing. Christina was a very different person to Christian. Mother just hugged me, as I stared at the room.

“I haven’t changed anything,” she said, and I started to cry.

“What is the matter Christina?” she asked.

“Mama, I can’t remember anything about my childhood. My memory was affected by the accident.”

“Oh you poor dear. Did you tell the doctors?”

“Yes, but they said it was quite normal to experience a degree of memory loss, but I’ve lost my childhood.”

“Well, we must put it back,” she said with one of her smiles.

“How?”

“Well, you know your Papa, he always have his camera, first the cine, when you were a little girl, and then the video camera. We have miles and miles of your childhood in a cupboard. We just said the other day that it is a pity that no one ever wants to see it again.”

I just hugged her, and we went back downstairs. After a light lunch, we then settled down to watch the films. It was fascinating. I started by watching an old cine film of my mother in hospital with me as a baby girl, and by teatime, we had progressed to video tape, and I was at primary school.

I could identify nearly everyone, but it was so strange seeing me dressed in little dresses and with long hair. The tears were never far away, as all my dreams were coming true, and I had not the words to express what I felt. He, upstairs, knew, I was certain of that.

“Your memory is not too bad,” Mama said. “You know everyone, so perhaps we help you get better.”

I hadn’t the heart to tell her that the people I remembered had not changed, only I had.

We sat on the patio, drinking mother’s special herbal tea. She’d baked a cake, which was lovely. Ingrid came and sat next to me, took my good arm and linked it with her left arm.

“I’m glad you’re home, it’s a bit lonely here, without you,” she said.

“How was uni?” I asked.

“Great. It’s really fun. A lot of the lecturers remember you.”

“Oh, for nothing too bad, I hope.”

“No, for your singing and performances in the shows, mostly. They were disappointed when I said I couldn’t sing like you.”

“But you can, Ing, I’ve heard you,” I said.

“No, it is not the singing, so much as the desire to put on a show. I’m too shy, where you just love an audience,” she said.

“Oh, Ing. That’s silly. You’re twice as pretty as me, and you sing just as well, if not better. You could do anything I can, and do it better,” I said.

She just smiled.

“Anyway, have you got a boyfriend yet?” I asked, and she went very red, and glanced at Mama.

“Brilliant,” I said, “Who is he, tell me all about him?”

“He is in my year, and we are both doing French. He is from Scotland and he is called Alex,” she said, with a little smile.

“Is he coming to see you soon?” I asked.

“Maybe. He’s on holiday in Portugal with his parents. They have been lent a villa out there. He wanted to ask me, but there wasn’t any more room, he has two brothers and one sister.”

“Oh, that’s a shame. When does he get back?”

“This Saturday. They fly into Heathrow, and then go up on a connecting flight to Edinburgh. I was hoping he could come and stay for a while,” she said looking at Mama.

“We will have to contact him. You could go to Heathrow and meet him. If he wants, he can come and stay. I have already phoned his Mama, and there is no problem with that. But he has various commitments in September that he has to get back for,” she said.

I had a happy sister. Mama decided that it was too nice to sit in watching any more films. Ingrid and I sat in the afternoon sun, playing about with makeup. I gave the excuse of my bad arm, so she helped me use the mascara and eyeliner with one hand. It was brilliant, as I learned an awful lot from her, and she didn’t twig at all.

Dad decided that it was a lovely evening for a barbeque, and as we sat smelling the chops start to sizzle, the phone went.

Ingrid answered it.

“Chrissie. It’s your fella.”

“Which one?” I asked, for Mama’s benefit.

“Steve.”

I went in and took the phone from my sister, who grinned at me.

“Hi Steve.”

“Hi Chris. My God, this is strange, I’ve had the most weird day.”

“Oh yes?”

“I’ve just got in, so I’m sitting here, stark naked, staring at what I now have between my legs. I’m having the greatest difficulty getting my head round the whole experience.”

I started to giggle, as I pictured him sitting on the floor staring at his dick.

“Are you still there?”

“Yes Steve, I’m still here. I’m just picturing the scene, and it’s very funny,” I said.

“Not from where I’m sitting,” he said, starting to laugh, and I felt a little better.

“Shit, I miss you,” he said.

“Why?”

“I just want to talk to you. You’re the only person I can talk to about this, and you’re miles away.”

“Come over.”

“What, tonight?”

“Why not?”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

There was silence.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

“I wouldn’t ask you if I wasn’t.”

“What about your parents?”

I shouted out the patio door at Mama.

“Hey, Mama, is it okay if Steve comes to stay for a few days?”

“When?”

“This evening.”

“Sure. But he gets one of the spare rooms,” she said.

I smiled and put the phone back to my ear.

“Did you hear that?”

“Yes,” he said. “I’ll be there in about an hour.”

“Have you eaten?”

“No, I’m too screwed up to eat.”

“We’re having a barbeque, I’ll tell Dad to turn it down, I know we have some more chops in the freezer, so come for dinner.”

“You’re brilliant Chris.”

“No, I’m just happy.”

“I think I am, but it’s taking me a little time to adjust.”

“Well come and adjust with me.”

“Be there soon, bye.”

“Bye.”

I went back out and sat down with a smug smile on my face. Life was suddenly so much better.

“Mama, I’m going to take a shower. Do we have any plastic bags big enough for my arm cast?”

“Ja, we should have. Be careful with your cut head though.” she said. Ingrid came up with me, and we managed for me to take a shower, and washed my hair, very gently and carefully. There was quite a bit of dried blood in my hair, and it felt so much better when I got out nice and clean.

“Shit Chrissie! Those bruises are awesome!” Ingrid said, seeing my naked body. I looked in the mirror, and noticed that my ribs and thighs were all purple and blue.

“It’s better than being dead or completely bust up,” I said, as I gently patted myself dry with the towel. My broken arm gave me little pain, but made simple things difficult. Ingrid was great, and we managed to get me looking really good. I put on a clean dress, and Ingrid helped with my make up, nails and hair.

By the time I heard the rumble of a large motorbike on the drive, I was back on the patio, looking pristine and sophisticated.

Steve parked his bike, so Mama went and brought him round the back. He was wearing his black leathers, and looked very hunky. I smiled at the picture of him on the floor with no clothes on. He looked very different to the stocky dark girl called Stephanie, who belonged to both our memories.

He came right over to me and kissed me. I held on to him, prolonging the kiss a little.

“Hi.”

“Hi yourself. You look wonderful,” he said.

“You look pretty good yourself.”

“Excuse me for interrupting this little scenario, but is your young man staying in his heavy hot leather clothes, or is he going to want to change for dinner? I only ask, because dinner is about one point three seven minutes away,” Dad asked.

Steve dashed off and Mama showed him the spare room next to mine. Two minutes later, he was in jeans and a tee shirt, and sat at the patio table being given a chop, some salad, baked potatoes and sweetcorn on the cob.

Dad came and sat down, when he shook Steve’s hand and said, “Welcome to chaos, my boy. It’s a pleasure to meet anyone brave enough to become close to our elder daughter.” From that moment on, Steve thought my Dad was the business.

It was a lovely meal, and even when Mama pumped poor Steve for his family history, it couldn’t spoil the perfect ending to the first complete day I had been Christina.

It was very tired, and so I was in bed by ten thirty. My parents always went to bed at that time, and would be up at seven. Ingrid would go to her room and watch TV or go on line. I just lay in bed, letting my mind drift over everything that had happened.

Steve popped his head round my door.

“Hi, okay for a chat, or are you too sleepy?”

I smiled, and shuffled over in my big bed. He was wearing jockey shorts and a tee shirt. He lay next to me, leaning against the headboard, on the outside of the duvet.

“Your parents are great.”

“Yeah, they’ll do,” I agreed.

“Where’s your mum from, Sweden?”

“Yup.”

“Can you speak Swedish?”

“Yup. We go over there nearly every year.”

He was quiet for a while, and I took his hand.

“Still confused?” I asked.

“Yup,” he said, and I laughed.

“How about you?”

“Nope,” I said, “just so unbelievably happy. It’s like finally coming home.”

“You were a good looking bloke, but you are an incredibly beautiful girl,” he said.

“I prefer you like this too,” I said, and he leaned over and kissed me.

“Shit, this is so weird,” he said.

“Why?”

“The other night, I was having this fantasy. I dressed you, the male you that is, up as a girl, and me as a bloke. We went out to a fancy restaurant, and had a nice meal, and then went dancing. You had an elegant long dress on, and long hair. You were very sexy, and I found myself getting turned on by the whole thing. Now I am in the same bed as you, but you are ten times sexier, and I am a real man. How more weird can you get?”

“What was it like?” I asked.

“What?”

“Being a girl, and wanting to make love to other girls?”

“Very much like being a bloke, and wanting to make love to girls. But now I have different equipment,” he said with a smile. “I mean, it wasn’t like I felt I was doing anything wrong, or unusual. It felt natural for me, but in the back of my mind was something that whispered, ‘this isn’t quite what you should be doing.’, but I learned to ignore it.”

“I prefer you as a bloke,” I said, and stroked his face. “You need a shave.”

“Tell me about it. What a pain. How about you, what was it really like before?”

“It was a living nightmare. I knew what I was, I knew what I wanted to be, and wasn’t able to be. Steve, I can’t tell you how miserable I was. It really was hell on earth.”

“Just you wait. I will not miss the curse. That’s the first thing I thought of, and I went ‘HOO-FUCKING-RAY!’ I tell you, I will not miss that mother, one little bit. I’m even willing to put up with shaving everyday for the rest of my life as long as I never get the curse ever again.”

“Ah, but then surely it is something you put up with, knowing that you can have babies?” I said.

“I never wanted a baby, not of my own at any rate. Now, I think it would be good to be a dad.”

“I want babies,” I said.

“Now? Move over and we shall see what we can do,” he said, and I laughed.

“No, not this minute, but eventually. I always wanted to be pregnant, and to know what it was like to have a life growing inside me.”

“I saw Alien, that was enough for me!” he said, and I hit him with my good arm. He kissed me, and we just lay together, kissing and caressing each other.

I sensed something was not quite right, but couldn’t put my finger on it. Anyway, Steve moved and I woke up. I had dozed off.

“Hey, I’ll leave you to get some sleep. I’m bloody knackered too, so I could do with a good night,” he said.

I kissed him, and he went back to his own room.

I lay there a while, thinking about Steve. I was very fond of him, and thought he was a lovely guy, but something was different. It was almost as if he was my brother or something. We were bound together by the most peculiar circumstances, and we needed each other, that was clear. It didn’t feel right that we should become lovers.

I felt a bit guilty, but it was how I felt. It was almost as if we were too close for that to come between us at this stage. In a couple of years, it might be different, but for now, we needed to be there for each other, and not complicated by being lovers as well.

I drifted off to sleep, and had a smile fixed on my new face.
 
 
Chapter 2
 
 
Ingrid woke me up with a cup of tea at ten o’clock. I had slept for ten hours.

“Is Steve up?” I asked.

“No, still fast asleep. He must have had a rough night worrying about you.”

“Yeah, I think he had a rough night, though what he was worrying about may be questionable,” I said, with a smile.

“He is very nice, how long have you been, you know?” she asked.

“We aren’t, we are just good friends, Maybe something deeper will develop, maybe not,” I said.

“You looked more than good friends, yesterday.”

“I know, I think that was reaction by both of us. I’m very fond of him, and we have shared a lot, we’ll see,” I said.

“Anyway, how do you feel?” she asked.

My head ached a little in the area of the bump, my ribs were still sore, and my bruises were sore when pressed. My arm was fine, and my spirits were still soaring, so I told her so.

“I can’t believe how cheerful you are. That time you fell off your horse and sprained your ankle, and had to keep off it for a few days, you were a real miserable bitch,” she said.

“Ingrid, I died, and I was allowed a second chance. It has given me a whole new outlook on life. It’s like I’m being allowed to make up for everything that was wrong with me, and become the person I really should have been.”

“Well, you’ve always been my elder sister, so I never thought anything was wrong with you. You were always so wonderful, I just wanted to be like you.”

“Oh, Ingrid. That’s sweet of you, but you have to be you. We’re not the same, and I’m not perfect, and never will be. We’re now grown women, and we should be the best of friends, so let’s just be pleased to be unique and different.”

She smiled, and I had to get up and go to the bathroom. She came with me, and we chatted away as I sat and had a pee. I realised that as girls, we were so much closer than as brother and sister. She was excited about meeting Alex at the weekend, so I just had to ask.

“Ingrid, are you still a virgin?”

She smiled and nodded.

“Good girl, so am I,” I said, hoping that was true.

“You told me on my birthday. It’s what keeps me from saying yes. Because if you can do it, then so can I. You know how Mama keeps saying that it is one thing that can only be lost once?”

“Is Alex the one?”

“I don’t know, we’ll see,” she said, smiling.

I cleaned my teeth and returned to my room. I put on jeans and a tee shirt, and Ingrid helped me with my hair and make up again. I went to Steve’s room and opened the door. I went over and looked at him sleeping.

I sat on the bed and he woke up.

“Good morning, sleepy head,” I said.

“Hi Chris. What’s the time?”

“Half ten.”

“Shit. I must have been knackered.”

“That’s okay, I’ve only just got up myself. I thought you would like a hand shaving.”

He laughed and trotted off to the bathroom. He had a basin in his room, so I dug out his shaving kit. He had a can of gel, and I showed him how to wash the face first, to soften the bristles, and then much gel to use. I then showed him how to go with the beard on the first pass, and then across it on the second. He got a good close shave, with no cuts.

“Brilliant. That feels so much better. Thanks,” he said, and then looked at me strangely. I laughed and he looked surprised. I immediately sensed that he was having similar thoughts as I about the nature of our relationship.

“Can I take a risk?” I said.

“Go on.”

“Steve, don’t get me wrong, I am very fond of you, and who knows what’s in the future, but our relationship is too special to fuck about with by us becoming lovers. I feel very close to you, but it’s not sexual. You’re a hunky guy and a mean kisser, but it is kind of like kissing my brother, if I had one. We need each other like no couple has ever needed each other before. We are bound together in such a way, that nothing can ever dissolve it. But we need to live, we need to breathe, and we need to explore the new lives that we’ve been given. If I make a fuck-up of a relationship, I need you there to help me through, and I can do the same for you. But what happens if we ruin our relationship, to whom do we turn?

“Who knows, in two years or so, we may end up getting together, even getting married, and having lots of screaming brats, but for now, I don’t feel that we should become lovers, but I’m terrified of hurting you,” I said, and sat on the bed waiting for his reaction.

He sat next to me, and put his arm around my shoulders.

“Oh, Chris. You’ve just put into words the feelings I have been struggling with for a couple of hours after I left you last night. I’ve been so afraid to hurting you that I just could not even begin to plan a speech. I agree with you so exactly, it’s uncanny. Thanks for being so brave and bright enough to express it so well.”

I kissed him on the cheek.

“Thanks Bro,” I said, and he chuckled.

“We need the space to become who we should be, and if we tie ourselves up with each other, we may never really bother to do that,” he said.

“I still reserve the right to come back to you. And say, ‘okay, I’ve been out there, and I still can’t find the one.’, but only if you haven’t found your special person.”

“Agreed,” he said, looking very relieved.

We shook on it, so I left him to get dressed.

We had a quiet day, Steve and Ingrid actually got on very well, and I began to fight little pangs of jealousy. Dad worked at Amersham International, doing what he did. He once tried to tell us, and I still don’t understand. I just introduce him to people as my dad, the mad scientist.

Steve did some odd jobs that my father was putting off so that his daughters’ boyfriends could do them, and my mother immediately fell in love with him. I was so content that I wandered about with a silly smile on my face all day.

The three of us took Barney for a long walk across the fields and into the woods. He chased rabbits and squirrels, and I felt so at peace with myself. I wanted to run and jump with joy, but my bruises restrained me somewhat.

Steve stayed until Friday. In the morning, Ingrid drove the three of us to Wycombe Heights golf centre, and watched in amazement as I taught Steve the rudiments of the game. She was convinced that I had never played the game in my life, and Steve and I had a little chuckle.

Steve took to the game quite quickly, and did okay on the par three course, as he only lost three balls. He was so relaxed with me now; it was great that we cleared the air about our relationship. He really felt like he was my brother, and so much so that Ingrid remarked on it.

We were in the club house, and Steve went to the loo. She turned to me and went on and on about how she never knew I played golf.

“You and Steve are weird,” she said.

“Oh. What makes you say that?”

“Well, at the hospital, I thought you were an item, but you behave like he’s your brother. And he treats you like a sister, not a girlfriend.”

“As I told you, we are very good friends, and not lovers,” I said, “If we became lovers, our relationship would change, and somehow, we would lose out. So we have agreed to be more like brother and sister.”

“Why?”

“It’s very complicated, but we have a special bond, and so we want things to stay as they are for the time being. You never know, we may end up stuck with each other, but time will tell.”

Steve returned, and the conversation moved on.

We went home for lunch, and Steve said goodbye and took off on his bike. I could tell he was okay now, and was much more secure in himself.

The sound of his motorbike had hardly disappeared, when the phone went.

“Chrissie. It’s for you. Another boy, Mark?” Ingrid said, looking at me questioningly.

I laughed, and took the phone.

“Mark, hi.”

“Hello Christina. I just called to ask how you were?” the young cop asked.

“Are you at work?”

“No, I was just worried about you.”

I laughed.

“I’m fine. A bit sore in places, but otherwise I am fine. So this isn’t official, then?”

“No, it’s personal,” he admitted and I thought I could sense him blushing.

“Aw, that’s sweet of you.”

“I was wondering?”

“Yes?”

“Is there any chance that we could meet up? I don’t want to intrude, as you probably have a boyfriend, but perhaps for a drink, or something?” he asked, rather hesitatingly.

“I haven’t got a boyfriend just now, and I’d love to meet you. I have a problem, in that with my arm, I can’t drive. But why don’t you come out here, and have a barbeque with us, and take me for a drink afterwards?” I suggested.

He accepted and I gave him directions. I even persuaded him to stay the night, and my mother rolled her eyes, and went to change the linen on the spare bed.

“You girls and your boys. I can’t keep up,” she muttered.

“Mama, come on, we aren’t that bad.” Ingrid said.

She just smiled, and shook her head.

Ingrid spent the next hour trying to find out who Mark was and I just smiled sweetly, and said nothing.

I heard the sound of a car on the gravel drive, and walked round the house to see Mark parking his VW Golf.

He saw me and beamed the biggest smile at me. It was silly, but I swear my heart almost fluttered a little. He got out, and suddenly looked very tall. He was about 6’3”, and a lot heavier than Steve, but none of it was fat. He was very fair, as opposed to being dark, and he looked faintly Nordic too. He was looking quite smart, with a fashionable collarless shirt, and a pair of dark trousers. He looked at the big house, and appeared rather nervous.

I hadn’t thought about it, but it was a nice house, six bedrooms, three bathrooms and an acre and a half of ground. It was over a hundred years old, and had been in my Dad’s family since it was built. It was probably worth a few bob, but it was part of the family.

“Hi,” I said.

He smiled.

“Hello, I didn’t realise you lived in a big house like this,” he said.

“Would it have made any difference?”

“No. Not really. You look wonderful, Christina. You don’t look like the same person who was lying in the road a few days ago.”

“Thanks. You look better out of uniform,” I said, and he did. However, there had been something sexy about the uniform too.

He grinned, and looked awkward, so I went and kissed his cheek.

“Thanks for caring, I appreciate it,” I said, and he went red again.

“Here, I brought you these,” he said, handing me a lovely bunch of red roses. It was my turn to blush.

“Thanks Mark, they’re lovely.”

“Not as lovely as you,” he said, and I went a little redder. However, I was saved by my nosey sister coming round the side of the house.

“Oh. I thought I heard a car,” she said, eyeing up Mark something rotten.

“Mark, this is my sister Ingrid. Ing, this is Mark. Oh shit, I am so sorry, I have forgotten your last name.”

“Williams, Mark Williams,” he said.

“Hello Mark. Where did you meet Christina?” she asked.

“I dealt with her accident, and went with her in the ambulance,” he said.

“Oh. You are a paramedic?”

“No, I am a police officer. I was with her when they said she had died, and then brought her back,” he said, talking to her, but looking at me.

“Oh,” Ingrid said.

That shut her up. I thought smugly.

“We don’t have to stay here, come on round,” I said, and we walked round to the back of the house. The garden was looking lovely, and it was rather impressive.

“Wow! This is some place you have.” Mark said.

“It was built by our great, great grandfather, and we’ve been here since we were born,” Ingrid said.

“It certainly is a super spot. So, what does your dad do?”

“He is a mad scientist,” Ingrid and I said, simultaneously, and then burst out laughing. Mark looked at us as if we were mad.

“Seriously, he is a physicist, and works for Amersham International. He has tried to explain what he does, but we are none of us any the wiser. Even Mama hasn’t a clue,” I said.

“He is very sexy,” Ingrid said in Swedish.

“Yeah, and he’s mine, so remember Alex,” I replied in the same language. Poor Mark looked bewildered.

Mama chose that moment to come out. She had heard us speaking Swedish, and asked, in Swedish, “What is going on, girls?”

Ingrid replied, “I was just telling Christina that her boyfriend was sexy.” Still in Swedish.

Mama switched to English, “I have told you, it is very rude not to stick to English,” She turned to Mark, “ I am sorry, I have brought them up all wrong. I am Christina’s mother.”

“I am Mark. I am so pleased to meet you all,” he said, and Mama kissed his cheek.

“I remember you! You are the policeman who was with Chris when she was hit. You look different with your clothes on,” she said. Not a lot got past her, she only saw him for a second.

“Mama, you can’t say that!” I said, but was ignored. My mother knew exactly what she was saying.

“That’s right,” said Mark, “I still have had visions of her lying on the road, and the paramedic saying that she had no pulse. She looked too beautiful to die like that. I am so glad she didn’t,” he said.

Mama looked at him closely, and smiled, she fell in love with him too. She took his arm and took him on a tour of the house and garden. Ingrid looked at me and grinned. We went into the kitchen, and put the roses in a vase with some water. Then we just sat on the swing hammock and waited for Mama to finish with him.

“He is very nice, Chris,” Ingrid said.

“I think so, but I don’t really know him.”

“Yet!” she said, and we both grinned.

“He is very different to Steve,” I observed.

“Steve was very intense.”

“Steve had reason to be,” I said.

“Why?”

“One day I may tell you, but at the moment, it wouldn’t help.”

“Oh, go on!”

“No Ing. It is not important, and it is not something that either of us can share.”

“Oh, a mystery, I love a mystery.”

“Good, because it is staying one,” I said.

“Spoil sport,” she said, and I laughed.

We sat in silence for a few moments.

“Ing?”

“What?”

“Do I seem different since the bang on my head?”

“In what way?”

“I don’t know, if I knew that, I wouldn’t have to ask. I just feel odd with so much of my memory missing.”

Ingrid thought for a while.

“Yes, you are. You are more relaxed, more vivacious, if that could be possible. More of a flirt, happier, and more fun. Apart from that you are just the same old Christina.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really. You used to be rather more serious, and less impulsive. You would never just invite strange boys to come and stay.”

“Oh.”

“You are still my big sister, and I love you. I have always been in awe of you, but somehow we seem to be closer now. It’s nice,” she said, and gave me a hug.

“I feel very odd. It is like being born at 24. Having a second chance is a rare privilege, and I am not going to blow it.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, for a start, I am not going to toil away in a hum drum little office in London, regardless of the healthy salary. I will give my notice in, and do something completely different, and exotic.”

Ingrid looked a little worried.

“Why?”

“Because, Ing, I have taken for 24 years! I took from Mama and Dad, from school, Cambridge, and now I take from my job and everyone else. It is time to give back. Time to become a giver instead of a taker,” I said.

“Shit, Chris, did you get religion or something?”

“Ingrid, I died! I went to a place where I had no body, and I met an angel and I was given a second chance. It may have been a dream, but it felt very real. He told me that my life was such that there was no guarantee of going up. You get my drift? So on the understanding that I cease being a selfish person, I was given the second chance. I am deadly serious. If there is a God, then He has done me nothing but good.”

Ingrid looked at me, trying to see whether I was joking. I wasn’t and she realised it.

“I’m sorry Chris. I don’t know what to say.”

“Look Ingrid, you don’t need to say anything. You are my baby sister, and I love you. Now we are old enough to be friends as well as sisters, so no secrets.”

“No secrets,” she said, and then asked, “What about Steve?”

“Okay, one secret,” I said and she giggled.

Mama came back, bringing Mark with her.

“Right. I have put Mark in the spare room, I will go and put the tea on, so be nice to him. No more Swedish,” she said, and wandered off.

We moved over, and Mark plonked himself between us. The swing hammock swayed alarmingly.

We chatted about everything and nothing for a while.

“So, your mother is Swedish, how did your parents meet?” he asked.

“He went to Stockholm for a mad scientist’s convention, and Mama was an interpreter. They met and fell in love,” Ingrid said.

I suddenly got an itch on my left arm, about half way down the forearm, covered by the cast. I was fidgeting and trying to get a finger down the cast, but it was too tight.

“I’ll get a knitting needle,” said my sister, and dashed off.

It was really itchy, and I was going nuts. Mark started to laugh, and took a pen out of his pocket and tried sticking that down, but it was too short.

Ingrid returned brandishing an old knitting needle, and seconds later, blessed relief. The itch was scratched. Mama brought out the tea, and Ingrid went and helped with the tray.

Mama spent tea asking Mark all about himself and his family. She was like the Spanish inquisition, only more thorough.
 
 
Dad arrived home, and looked completely bewildered. Mama had disappeared to make some salad for the barbeque, and we were laying the patio table. Mark was standing looking a bit spare, as he didn’t know where anything was. Dad stared at Mark for a moment, when he went to work there was a dark haired boy hanging about, and now I had acquired a blond one.

“Hello, young man. I am the girls’ father. I assume that you belong to Christina, but then I have been wrong before. Things have a tendency to change without my knowledge around here,” he said.

Mark shook Dad’s proffered hand.

“How do you do, sir. I’m Mark. I was the officer dealing with Christina’s accident. We met briefly at the hospital on Monday.”

“Did we? Ah, forgive me, as I was just aware that Christina was alive. I am afraid everything else was totally unimportant.”

“I understand completely, sir. We tend to be a little anonymous in uniform anyway.”

“Quite. So, what brings you all the way out here? I take it this is social and not business.”

Mark blushed.

“He is a sweetie, and he wanted to make sure I was alright. The poor love has been plagued by visions of my lying in the road, looking dead,” I said.

Dad glanced at Mark, who looked slightly sheepish.

“It must be very hard to deal with these sorts of things objectively?” Dad asked.

“Yes sir, at times it can. Particularly when the victim is as beautiful as Christina,” Mark said, and I blushed. This was getting to be a habit.

“Well, thank you for doing your job so thoroughly. I assume you don’t undertake personal visits on all victims like this?” Dad asked with a grin.

Mark smiled and looked at me, and then at his feet.

“No sir, this is the first time I have done it. I have never felt like this before.”

“Mark, please don’t call me ‘sir’, it makes me feel really old. My name is David, so please feel free to call me that.”

“Thanks, s.., thanks.”

Dad realised that he had made Mark feel uncomfortable. So he kissed us two girls and went looking for Mama.

“I can’t call him David. What do I do?” he asked us, and we didn’t help by giggling.

“Don’t call him anything. Mr Reynolds will do, but he will tell you off again,” Ingrid said.

“How about your mother, I’ve been calling her Mrs Reynolds, is that okay?”

“Mama doesn’t care. Her name is Greta, but she isn’t bothered,” I said.

“Do you all speak fluent Swedish?”

“Dad doesn’t. He knows a little, so if we start trying to speak it behind his back, the chances are he knows what we are talking about. We have spent so many holidays with Mama’s family in Sweden, that Ingrid and I are fluent.”

“I did a bit of French at school, and I wasn’t that good even then,” Mark said.

“I am doing French at Cambridge,” Ingrid said, just to make him feel even more insecure.

“Do you play tennis?” I asked.

“I have done, not much though,” he said. Then he looked down the garden, and saw the tennis court for the first time. Ingrid fetched some racquets and a few balls.

“Come on, you and Christina against me,” she said. “The cripple and the novice against the incredibly beautiful.”
 
 
We walked to the court; it was a hard court, with green wire mesh fencing around it. The lines needed repainting, but were still just visible. Ingrid and I put the net up, and we knocked a few balls about for a while. I ached something rotten, and I realised just how hard I had been hit. I had to sit down, and watched Mark get the thrashing of his life.

He was actually quite good, but Ingrid had been almost county champion four years on the trot. He stripped off and by the end was sweating profusely, and had to lie down to catch his breath. Ingrid looked cool and unruffled, but then he had been doing all the running.
 
 
We took a completely knackered Mark back to the patio, and Dad appeared with a huge jug of Pimms. We settled down for a delightful evening. With venison sausages and homemade beef burgers, salad, French bread and cheese, we sat and spent four hours enjoying the warm evening in good company. Mark hadn’t had Pimms before, and treated it like lemonade. Thus, by his sixth glass, he had a slightly crooked smile. I realised that he was in no fit state to take me out for a drink tonight.

“So, who is going to Heathrow to collect Ingrid’s young man, and what has been arranged?” Dad asked.

“He is coming to stay for a week, and he has to then fly home,” Mama said. She had spoken on the phone with Alex’s mother.

“Right, this place is turning into a refuge for lovesick young men,” Dad said with a grin. Mark frowned and blushed slightly, and we all laughed at him.

“Alex is Ingrid’s, and they are at Cambridge together,” I explained.

“And Steven is Christina’s and is just a good friend,” Ingrid said.

“Ingrid,” I said, getting cross.

“Girls. Behave,” Mama said, and Dad chuckled away in his corner.

“You still haven’t answered my question. I am busy tomorrow, and I can’t go,” Dad said.

“I’ll go,” Ingrid said, but she sounded slightly worried. She had not driven much, and had only passed her test a few months ago. Heathrow was daunting for the most experienced drivers, so she was rather nervous.

“I can’t,” I said, and waved my broken arm in the air.

“Look, I’m off for the weekend, I know Heathrow, I would be happy to go,” Mark said.

“Then it looks like we are all going,” I said, and Ingrid looked very relieved.

“Are you sure Mark?” Mama asked.

He grinned.

“If it means spending a little more time with your daughter, then it is a pleasure,” he said, looking at me. I felt all funny, I couldn’t look at him and Ingrid dug me in the ribs with her elbow.

“OW!”

“Oh God! Sorry Chris, I forgot,” she said, and then giggled.

“Then as you are off for the weekend, you must stay. It will be nice, the two girls as couples.”

Mark agreed like a shot.
 
 
We cleared away the plates, and washed up. It was just getting dark, but Barney wanted another walk. With me home all day, he was getting to like the attention we were giving him.

Ingrid wanted to sort out her room, and make Alex’s bed in the other spare room, so Mark and I took Barney across the fields for a stroll in the dusk. He helped me over the stile, and kept hold of my right hand. I felt all tingly again. It was different to Steve, and I was enjoying the sensation. It still didn’t sweep me away.

“Who is Steve?” he asked, and I laughed out loud.

“What is so funny?”

“Me. I was just thinking how different you make me feel.”

“How?”

“Steve is a friend from work. We are really good mates, and if anything very much closer than most friends. But although we are fond of each other, it isn’t a sexual thing. He is more like a brother and we value our relationship for what it is, and not anything deeper. He came and stayed over the last few days, and he is having a mini-crisis of his own. Everyone thinks we are an item, but we aren’t. I laughed because when you hold my hand, I feel different to when he touches me. You don’t feel like my brother,” I said, with a smile.

“Good. I don’t know how to say this, but I haven’t been able to get you out of my mind. I know it sounds corny, but I can’t stop thinking about you,” he said.

I didn’t know what to say. He was very nice, hunky, and very good looking, and very sexy in his uniform, but I didn’t know him. So I said exactly that.

“Would you mind getting to know me?” he asked.

I stopped walking, and turned to look up at him. It was disconcerting being down here, as I was used to being up above the six foot mark. I liked everything else so much, that I was willing to forgo the few inches.

“Sweet Mark. I find it so romantic that you are besotted with me, and I would love to get to know you better. But I have two rules, one, I will not have sex with you, and two I am a free agent, and I am not any person’s personal property, unless I want to be. And if that happens, the rule one is negotiable,” I said.

He bent his head towards me, and I kissed him ever so gently on the lips. I felt his arms encircle me, and I put mine round his neck, and the kiss turned into something more.

I had responded to Steve’s kiss, and it had been nice. This felt slightly different. I felt my breasts tingle and my nipples became a little sensitive, and I was conscious of my pelvis as I pressed myself against him. Our tongues were dancing, and his hands pulled me gently towards him.

I stroked his head, and let my hand run through his hair, and his hands caressed my bottom. Then I felt one of his hands on my breast, and he rolled my nipple gently. I felt a warm glow spread from my groin, and realised that I was wet. I was feeling randy. It was a wonderful feeling, and a dangerous one.

Despite my very pompous little speech, I was almost ready to lie in the grass and let him fuck me.

Almost.
 
 
I broke off, and he was as turned on as I, as I had felt his erection through his trousers, and I was pleased and flattered that he responded to me as he had. I was also very afraid of making a mistake. I had been a girl for only a few days, so I was not ready to become a mother just yet.

“I think I love you, Christina,” he said, slightly breathless.

“Mark, you don’t know me. You saw a girl lying dead on a road, and now she is alive. The fact that I feel more alive than ever in my life is another matter, but don’t leap in just with your heart. We both need time to use our heads and that way if there is a future for us, it will be clear. If there isn’t, then that will become clear too.”

“Why do I think of you all the time?”

“Because you don’t occupy you brain with anything sensible,” I joked.

He laughed, and he lost his serious look.

“I’m sorry, it isn’t like me to come on so strong. I know you are right, but I honestly feel so odd.”

I kissed him again, to show that I wasn’t offended, and we continued our walk. He threw a stick for Barney, and I looped my hand through his arm. Mama had effectively questioned him earlier, but I wanted to know more about the inner Mark.

“Why no girlfriend?”

“There used to be. We were on the point of getting engaged, but something happened. She had been supportive when I joined the police, but she couldn’t take the shift work. She tried to persuade me to leave, and when I wouldn’t we drifted apart. We had been together since we were sixteen, and it ended last year. I’m 24 now, and I have quite enjoyed being free. We did everything together, and I came to realise that life became a series of compromises and deals. If I wanted to see an action movie, she wanted the next one to be a chick-flick.

“So we had a final dinner and agreed to split. She cried and accused me of loving the job more than her, and I said she wanted to mould me into something I wasn’t. In the end, all I felt was relief.”

“Do you ever hear from her?”

“No, we have met at a couple of events with mutual friends. We passed pleasantries, but that’s all. She has another boyfriend now, he is an estate agent of all things.”

I smiled.

“How about you? You told me about Steve, is there anyone else?”

“I don’t think so. He hasn’t made himself known anyway,” I said, and he frowned.

“I have lost parts of my memory in the accident. I can’t remember a lot of my recent past. It is very strange, but I am coping at the moment. It is random, but chunks seem just to be missing.”

“What did the doctors say?”

“They told me it was perfectly normal, and my memories should return. To be honest, it isn’t that bad, but it can be embarrassing at times. I forgot about Steve completely, but the memories do come back when jolted.”

“You must have had lots of boyfriends over the years.”

“I have lots of friends who are boys, men now. But my rule has meant that I am not an easy lay. The man who marries me will be the man who makes love to me for the first time,” I said.

“In that order?”

I smiled, “Not necessarily, but preferably. It depends,” I said.

He laughed. “Now there is a rare challenge.”

“If you keep kissing like you did, it may be easier than you think,” I said.

“All I know is that kissing you turns me into jelly,” he said.

“Then let’s make some trifle,” I suggested, and we kissed again. He was so tender and gentle with me, I almost became cross, but one twinge of the ribs reminded me, and I was grateful to him.

We came up for air, and Barney was barking at us to throw the stick again. Mark threw the stick, and we walked slowly back to the house.

“I accept,” he said, suddenly.

“What?”

“Your conditions. I accept them. Will you marry me?” he said.

I laughed and tried to tickle him. He wrestled me gently to the ground, tickling me. I screamed as if in pain, and he stopped, looking worried, and I tickled him again.

He pinned me to the grassy field, and I lay there looking up at him.

“You’re a bully,” I said.

“You’re beautiful. Marry me?”

“No, you’ll beat me up.”

“No I won’t, I’ll worship you.”

“I don’t want to be worshipped.”

“I’ll do whatever you want.”

“I thought you don’t want to be moulded into something you aren’t.”

“That’s different. That was her, this is you.”

“Mark, shut up, and kiss me.”

“Yes ma’am,” he said, and kissed me.

“Now, will you marry me?”

I laughed, and twisted him off me. We lay side by side in the long grass.

“You are very sweet, and I am flattered, but no, Mark, I won’t. Because I don’t know you well enough, and because I am not ready for that sort of commitment or relationship. Ask me again in a year or so, if you still want to.”

“I can live with that.”

“But you do kiss very nicely,” I said, and went back for some more.
 
 
We arrived back at the house, and Ingrid helped me get the grass of the back of my clothes.

“Tut tut. I wonder what you two have been doing?” she said, grinning.

Mama and Dad had gone to bed, so we watched a little TV. Mark and I were sitting close together on the sofa.

“Did you let him, then?” Ingrid asked in Swedish.

“No, I did not,” I replied in English.

“I guessed that one, Ingrid,” Mark said, and she had the grace to blush.
 
 
Finally, I could not keep my eyes open, and I went up to bed. The movie was half way through, but I had seen it before, and felt my sleep was more important. I kissed Mark, and gave Ingrid a hug, and left them to it. Mark offered to come too, but I told him that I was a big girl, and to just finish the film.

I brushed my teeth, washed and put on my night dress, thanked God for everything, and I was asleep in no time, still with a smile firmly fixed on my face.
 
 
I woke at about eight, with an extended bladder. I scuttled to the loo, and discovered that I was bleeding. I had a momentary panic, and then remembered that I was now female, and things like that happened every month. I felt okay, perhaps a little bloated, but now I had a problem.

I dug out my mobile, and rang Steve.

“Hello?” said a sleepy voice.

“Could I speak to Stephanie, please?” I said, in a disguised voice.

“Speaki…. Sorry who are you after?” he said, rather more awake now.

“Stephanie.”

“Who is this?”

“Who is that?” I said.

“Chris, you little tart.”

“I love you too, Steve.”

“What’s up, it is bloody early?”

“I’ve come on. What do I do?”

“Oh, you poor cow. How do you feel?”

“Okay, a bit bloated, but what do I do?”

Steve, the darling, then told me everything I needed to know, and even offered to come over. I found all the necessary bits and pieces in the bathroom cupboard, and read the instructions.

“Thanks, my love. I’ll be fine now. You have a good day out with your dad, and remember, feet still, head down, and relax through the swing.”

“I will. Hey Chris, I met someone last night.”

“That was quick. Couldn’t wait to get rid of me?”

“You know it’s not like that. I went to the pub, the Lord Nelson, and do you remember Debbie Harris?”

“Yes, she was in accounts, and you fancied her rotten, and she was going out with some pratt in HR?”

That’s her. Anyway she was there with some of her mates, and she came over and asked if I was Steve Carter. I said I was, and she giggled. She said that she had always fancied me, but because I was going out with Christina Reynolds, she never got a look in. So I said, that you and I were very good friends, but were not an item, so to speak, and the next thing, she is sitting with me, and even came home to my flat. She didn’t stay, but she is keen to see me again. I’ve pulled, Chris, and now I feel guilty.”

“No reason to, we are not, as you said, an item. I value your friendship, and the future is an open book. I have dated another guy, and I don’t feel guilty. I have enough room in my heart to love you, whatever else is happening.”

“Thanks Chris, I feel better now.”

“Look, I have to go, I’m leaking.”

“Bye.”

“Bye, and good luck with Debbie. Call me and let me know how you get on.”

“I will.”

I managed to sort myself out, and was quite surprised at the mess. Being male does have certain advantages.

I was first down, after my parents that is, and Dad was faintly surprised to see me.

“Morning little love. How are you today?” he asked, and he finished his cereal.

“I’m okay, I hurt less, and am less stiff. I could do without the curse, but apart from that, I’m fine,” I said.

“Christina, your father does not need such information,” my mother told me.

“He asked, Mama.”

“That is no reason to tell him. Men are such delicate creatures, they function so much better in total ignorance of such things.”

“Christina, I value your openness, and respect you willingness to share your life with me. Many fathers haven’t a clue about what their daughters are up to, but at least you always tell me.”

I couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic or not.

Mama laughed.

“Your Papa is told, and forgets everything we tell him. As I said, ignorance is their finest quality.”

“I am unappreciated here. I shall go to my workshop, and may appear for the odd meal,” he said, winked at me, and left the kitchen.

“What would you like?” Mama asked.

“I feel pretty shitty, just some juice and cereal will be fine, Mama.”

“When did you come on?”

“This morning, I lost track with the accident and everything. What time is Ingrid’s boyfriend’s plane?”

“It gets in at about one o’clock. So you should aim to get there just after that. It takes half an hour to clear customs and baggage.”

“What do you think of my policeman?”

“He is very sweet. So was the other one, Steve, is it?”

“Yeah, Steven.”

“So, you like them both?”

“Yes, but they are different. Steve is a good mate, and like a brother, but Mark is something else. He proposed to me last night.”

“Christina. He didn’t? You didn’t accept, did you?”

“No, I told him to ask me again in a year, if he still liked me. He’s nice, but I’m not ready for marriage yet.”

“You are 24. You can’t wait forever.”

“I’m not waiting forever, Mama. I am waiting for the right one.”

“Hmm. All those boys in Sweden, and you never liked them.”

“They were nice, but none was the right one.”

“You are too fussy.”

“No, I am careful. It has to be right. You told me that.”

She smiled, and hugged me.

“I know, Christina, and you are a wonderful daughter. You will make a wonderful wife and mother.”

“Ah. Now I understand. You want grandchildren to spoil.”

She laughed.

“Perhaps, but you are right, it has to be right.”

Ingrid came in, yawning. She was still in her PJs.

“Morning. Where’s Dad?”

“Morning my love, he is in the workshop,” Mama said, and hugged her.

“What time is the plane?” Ingrid asked.

“We have to be there just after one,” I said.

“Okay, I’m going for a shower. Is your policeman up yet?”

“No yet.”

“Do you want me to wake him?”

“No thanks, I want that pleasure,” I said.

I had my breakfast, and went up to his room. I opened the curtains, and he was dead to the world. I sat on his bed, and still nothing. I shook him gently, and he moved, rolled over and stayed asleep.

I kissed his cheek, and nothing. I had a naughty thought, and reached under his duvet and found what I was looking for. He had a morning stiffy. I gave him a squeeze, and he was awake.

I withdrew my hand, and he sat up, confused, aroused but awake.

“Now I know how to wake you up,” I said.

“Aren’t you going to do anything about it?” he asked, slyly.

“No, you had that before I got here. Have a pee, and it will go down. If you want a shower, there is plenty of water,” I said, kissed his stubbly cheek, and left him gaping after me.

Twenty minutes later he was downstairs, shaved, clean, and still in love with me. Mama spoiled him and cooked him a full English breakfast, and I sat and drank my coffee, and chatted. Ingrid sat and munched her way through her toast.

“How come you are so bloody cheerful? Before your accident, you were anything but a morning person, but now, I could quite happily strangle you,” my dear sister said.

“Well, as I said, I have changed. But it may be because I woke up with a little visitor, and have therefore been up longer than you,” I said.

“Huh?” said Mark.

“You don’t want to know Mark. Alright Chris, I understand, but you have even less reason to be cheerful, then.”

I sighed, and thought for a moment. Even feeling a bit shitty, having sore ribs, head, legs and a broken arm. I was so much happier than before.

“Well, I am happy to be alive, and that cuts through everything else,” I said.

“That makes two of us,” Mark said, looking soppy at me

“Actually, I am moderately pleased that you didn’t snuff it. But if you persist in being chirpy in the mornings, I will ask the driver to have another go,” Ingrid said.

“Poor little sod won’t be driving for a while,” Mark said.

“What will happen to him?” Mama asked.

“A hefty fine, a few years disqualification, and possibly a prison sentence. The last is doubtful, but if Christina had died, he would have gone away for a few years.”

“If I met him, I hate to think what I would do to him,” Ingrid said.

“Well, I have met him, and I forgave him,” I said, and Ingrid stared at me.

“Why, the little tosser nearly killed you?”

“Christina was wonderful. She didn’t have to see him, but she did. He was so cut up, he just wanted to say he was sorry. He said he was never going to drive again,” Mark said.

“He even bought me some flowers,” I said.

“Well, you are a very strong person to do that, my love,” Mama said.

“It was the main thing that attracted me to her. She had such compassion, her attitude saved that man’s life. He was suicidal, and as I took him away from the hospital, he burst into tears and said that Christina was an angel. You can’t walk away from that sort of thing untouched,” he said, and I felt quite tearful.

“I’d still have kicked him in the nuts,” Ingrid said, and brought the conversation back to earth.
 
 
Chapter 3
 
 
I was relieved that Mark was driving, as he obviously knew his way around the airport. The Robertsons were flying in with TAP - the Portuguese airline, and that meant Terminal Two, so Mark went straight to the car park. We were in the Terminal in no time.

We checked the monitor and saw there was a slight delay on the flight, so we went to one of the snack bars and had some lunch.

Mark watched a couple of armed police officers patrol through the concourse. They looked out of place with their MP5 Carbines across their armoured chests, and Glock 17 SLPs in their holsters.

“Fancy working here, Mark?” Ingrid asked.

“Yes, in a few years. It's different, that's for sure.”

“I couldn’t be a police woman,” Ingrid said. “All the blood and stuff, urgh.”

“Do you think I'd make a good police woman?” I asked.

“Of course, but I think you're way too nice,” he said with a smile.

“So, you only have nasty women in the police?”

“No, but I don’t know if you could be hard enough.”

“I can be hard if I want to be,” I said, defensively.

“Yeah, but you never want to be. Let’s face it Christina, you love everyone too much. You see good points in even the nastiest person,” Ingrid said.

“If I leave my job, I think it would be for something like the police,” I said.

“Oh, come on Chris. Why?” my sister asked.

“Because I want to give something back to the society I live in, and the police are a caring profession.”

“They don't care that much. Why not become a nurse?” she said.

“That’s a possibility,” I said.

“Or a social worker. But I can’t see you as a copper,” she said.

“I think you'd make a wonderful police woman,” Mark said, quite seriously.

“Really?”

“Come on Mark, you're biased. You want her in your panda car on night duty, for a little hanky panky,” Ingrid said.

“That sounds good too,” he said with a smile.

“Maybe it wouldn’t be for me. I think I would take things to heart too much. I’d like to do something that gives pleasure to people.”

“I’ve got it. A prostitute,” said Ingrid, rather loudly, so the two men at the neighbouring table looked suddenly nervous. Mark laughed, but looked faintly embarrassed.

“Hmm, what's the going rate these days?” I asked, which dissolved Ingrid into laughter.

“You two ought to be on the stage,” Mark said, and something clicked in my head.

“Oh no. Mark, you shouldn’t have said that,” Ingrid said.

“Why?”

“I know that look. She's scheming now. We're imagining ourselves in show business, aren’t we Christina?”

I just smiled, it was a pain when one’s sister knows one so well.

“I think you’d be a great actress,” Mark said.

“Oh, don’t encourage her, she will be terrible now.”

“Seriously, you have the looks, charm and presence, you’d be great.”

“Mark, I love you. Keep saying things like that and I will marry you,” I said.

“Chris!” Ingrid said, unaware of the previous evening’s exchange.

Mark laughed at her. I looked at the monitor and saw that the plane had landed, and that the baggage was in the hall.

Ingrid ran down to stand near where the passengers exited the customs hall. Mark and I sat in the coffee shop, to give her some space.

Mark took my hand.

“I know it was said in jest, but you said you loved me. I really do love you, I'm convinced of that now. But I need to know if I have a chance of you bringing yourself to love me?”

I looked at his big soulful eyes, and knew that he was so earnest. I smiled.

“Mark, you're very sweet, and I am very fond of you. Every time I see you, my heart flutters a bit, I like you touching me, and I enjoy being with you. You make me laugh, and I feel safe when you are close. I often think of you and your voice makes me smile. I'm not sure what being in love feels like, but if it's any of the above, then maybe I love you a little. Does that answer your question?”

He lifted my fingers to his lips, and muttered, “Thanks.”

Ingrid suddenly became very animated, and was waving furiously. The next moment she was being hugged by a huge bear of a man. Alex was another tall man, a rugby player without a doubt. He was as tall as Mark, but where Mark would be Number eight, or flanker, Alex was a second row forward. He had dark brown hair, quite long, and was obviously as pleased to see Ingrid as she was to see him.

Standing a little way behind the oblivious couple were Alex’s parents, two younger brothers and younger sister. The sight of Alex so captivated them, that I thought the younger of the two boys was going to wet himself with laughing so much.

I went over to his parents.
 
 
“Hello, I'm Christina, Ingrid’s long suffering and incredibly patient sister. You must be Alex’s parents?” I said, aware that Mark was at my shoulder.

“Hello Christina, I’m Bruce Robertson, and this is Sheila. That’s Dan, Greg, and Lucy. It must be hard, they haven’t seen each other for at least four weeks.”

“My mother says ‘Hi’. It's good of you to unleash your tiny little son onto us for a week. It might prevent my baby sister pining away all night,” I said, and they laughed.

“Oh, I’m sorry, this is my friend, Mark Williams. He is a relatively new acquisition by the female Reynolds, and poor chap, is still in shock,” I said.

Mark was gaping at my description of him, and I grinned at him.

Bruce laughed and told Dan to break up the canoodling couple.

“I understand that Alex has a full social calendar in Scotland, and that's why poor little Ingrid is being left all alone and miserable?” I said.

Again Bruce laughed, and Sheila joined in.

“Christina, Alex forgot to mention that Ingrid had a comedienne for a sister.”

“Ah, that’s because Christina has yet to meet the legendary Alex,” I said.

Alex and Ingrid approached the group.

“Alex, put her down for a moment. You haven’t met Christina, have you?” Bruce asked.

“No, but I have heard a lot about you. Hi,” he said.

I walked over to him and kissed him on the cheek. He seemed quite shocked, and I grinned at Ingrid.

“Hello Alex, I've heard an awful lot about you too.”

“Oh,” he said, and looked worried, glancing at Ingrid.

“We have plenty of time before our connection. Why don’t we grab a drink, or a coffee or something?” asked Sheila.

The younger Robertson’s disappeared to the video games centre, and the remaining six of us went to the coffee shop.
 
 
Once we were settled in a booth, Ingrid and Alex became engrossed in catching up with what they had each being doing.

“So, what happened to your arm?” said Bruce, noticing my pink cast.

I was busy thinking of a witty answer, when Mark answered.

“She got hit by a van jumping a red light.”

“Ooh. Nasty. You were lucky not to have been badly hurt,” Sheila said.

“She actually died on the road. The paramedics brought her back. It was really traumatic,” Mark said.

“Really? You were lucky,” Bruce stated.

“No, it wasn’t luck. I was blessed by God, and given a second chance,” I said, quite seriously.

Bruce glanced at his wife, and then back at me. I could tell he was trying to see whether I was being to be funny.

“This is serious. I actually had a near death experience. I met someone, and was given a second chance. I never used to believe in God, or the afterlife, but I do now. I don’t joke about that,” I said, and smiled.

“Did Ingrid tell you what I do for a living?” Bruce asked. I shook my head.

“I'm the headmaster of a school near Perth, and I am also an elder of a Church in Perth. And I am so pleased to find a young woman with both strong faith and a sense of humour.”

I smiled.

“Both are essential, don’t you agree?” I asked.

“Absolutely.”

Sheila said something to her husband. He nodded and said, “Why not?”

“Christina, are you and your young man free for a couple of weeks?”

I looked at Mark in surprise, and then at her.

“I am, I'm off work with my arm for a few weeks. But I can’t speak for Mark,” I said.

“I haven’t taken much leave this year, I should be able to take two weeks off. Why?” he asked.

“Well, we have the Angus Ball in Kirriemuir, and the Perth Ball in Perth, all within two weeks. As well as six private dances around the area. Now the younger three are all off to stay with friends, and will be going to different parties, so we thought we would host our own wee group. We were going to ask Ingrid if she would like to come, but it would probably be more fun if the three of you were to come up, as there will be eight our age and now four of you in your twenties. We have plenty of room, and I am sure you would enjoy yourselves.

“You could bring Alex up at the end of next week, and if you came by car, you would be as independent as you want.”

Alex and Ingrid had managed to tear each other apart for long enough to hear this offer. Ingrid grinned and nodded furiously at me. I looked at Mark, who excused himself, taking out his mobile phone.

“That sounds wonderful, I would certainly love to come,” I said, and Ingrid didn’t have to reply, she was already hugging Alex.

Mark returned.

“I've spoken to my sergeant, and I have commitments this coming week, but I am free for the next two weeks, so if it is possible, I would love to.”

“Excellent. That's settled. I am sure it will be fun, have you thought how you will get up?”

“I don’t have a problem driving,” Mark said.

“We could share the driving, if you put us all on your insurance,” Alex said. He had a very sexy Scottish accent. Not broad, but educated, more a burr than a full accent.

We left his parents, making our way to the car park, where we managed to find Mark’s VW. Alex and Mark sat in the front of the car, and we sisters sat in the less spacious rear. Alex and Mark got on very well, funnily enough, they were both rugby players, and played in the positions I had envisaged.
 
 
The weekend was fun. Alex was a super bloke, and I felt really happy for Ingrid. They were so obviously right for each other, and totally potty in love. I felt slightly envious, but then they had been an item for several months, and I had only been a girl for a few days.

Mark had to leave on Sunday night, as he was at work early the next morning. I walked out to his car with him, and watched as he slung his bag in the back. He had said goodbye to my parents, and given my mother a lovely bunch of flowers by way of thank you.

He turned to me, and put his arms around me.

“Did you mean what you said?”

“Rarely, but which bit specifically?” I asked.

“When you told me that you ‘maybe’ loved me a little.”

“Oh, that bit.”

“Yeah, that bit.”

“Hmm, what do you think?”

“Christina, you're the most frustrating girl I have ever met. You send me such confusing signals, I just never know where I am.”

“So don’t you want us to be more than friends?”

“You know I do.”

“Then, I suppose we could, then.” I said, and he kissed me.

“Thanks Chris, you have just made me the happiest person alive.” he said, lifting me off my feet.

“Ow! Mark you can’t do that yet. My ribs.”

“Sorry babe.”

“Mark, if we go anywhere with this relationship, please don’t call me ‘babe’, ‘darling’, ‘love’, or anything corny like that. I have a name, and I’m sure we will find something more imaginative as time goes on.”

“Sorry snookums,” he said, with a silly grin.

I laughed and kissed him. He pledged undying and eternal love for me and got into his car. I watched him drive away, and felt sad, but I still did not believe that he was the one. Still, I would see him in a week’s time, and then we would spend two weeks together. That would sort things out, one way or the other.
 
 
I spent the week just trying to figure out what I was going to do with my life. I called Mr Robbins, my boss, and was quite frank about my position. He said that he understood, as accidents like that had a tendency to change lives. I was to have as much time as I needed to get my arm right, and my head right too. I appreciated his willingness to be so accommodating, and he told me that my job was safe for as long as it took.

I rang Karen, and she popped out for a day on the Wednesday. Alex and Ingrid were off in her mini, just being together on their own for a while.

“Have you heard about Steve?” she asked, looking a little concerned for me.

“You mean about him and Debbie Harris from accounts? Yes, he told me several days ago,” I said.

“You knew? I only found out yesterday. I thought that you and Steve had a thing going,” she said, very surprised.

“Karen, I'm very fond of Steve, and I know he is of me, but we are not an item. We're just very good mates. Look, he came out here last week for a few days, and we talked through all sorts of issues. We're more like brother and sister, so we value each other as friends too much to spoil in by becoming lovers at this moment in time. Neither of us know what's in the future, but for the present, I am only too happy he has someone he can love.”

“Oh.”

“Besides, I have someone too. Do you remember the policeman?”

“You didn’t?” she said, genuinely shocked.

I grinned and nodded.

“He rang me up and offered to buy me a drink. He ended up coming for the weekend, and only left on Sunday night.”

“What are you like? Mind you he was very hunky.”

“We're going up to Scotland for a couple of weeks.”

“What, just the two of you?”

“No, my sister, Ingrid and her boyfriend, Alex, are coming with us. Alex lives up there, so we'll be staying with his parents. Apparently there are loads of functions and parties, so it should be fun.”

Karen gave me a funny look.

“No, I didn’t. Before you ask. Two reasons, one, I had the curse, and two, I have yet to find that special someone. It's too early to tell whether Mark is the one. But I don’t get the buzz that I should, so I doubt he is.”

Karen’s mouth fell open.

“You mean you still are, you know, intact?”

“You mean a virgin? Yes, and only my future husband will change the situation.”

“You are never going to wait until you're married?”

“I never said that, did I?”

“You said, your future husband. Oh, I see, he may not necessarily be your husband when you do it?”

“Well done! You got there in the end.”

“I never knew you had never done it, we all assumed you and Steve had.”

“Never assume, Karen, it's dangerous.”
 
 
Alex and Ingrid appeared, and Alex mentioned that we would need long formal evening dresses for the Scottish trip.

“They will have to be elegant, but capable of extreme physical activity. Scottish dancing is very strenuous,” he said.

“Will you be in your kilt?” Ingrid asked.

“Of course.”

“So, for people like Mark, what will be best for him?” I asked.

“I told him that he could either hire or borrow a kilt and the accessories, or a Dinner jacket would be fine.”

“I’d like to see him in a kilt,” I said.

“Chris, shall we go and see if we can’t find some dresses this afternoon?”

“Haven’t we got anything suitable?” I asked.

We left Alex with the dog, and went to our rooms. I had popped to the flat on the Monday, and checked my post, emails, and picked up some of my clothes. There wasn’t a suitable long dress there.

I had nothing, and the few that Ingrid had were either too fragile or not elegant enough. Mama showed her some of her old dresses, but none were really us.
 
 
With Alex in tow, we set off for Aylesbury, and went looking for some clothes. I had the advantage of having a healthy bank account, as Ingrid was a poor student. She wasn’t really, as we had each inherited a fair amount from our grandparents, both the English ones, and the Swedish ones. Ingrid couldn’t touch hers for another month, as she wasn’t twenty-one yet.

I was introduced to the amazing world of female retail therapy. I loved every minute. We spent ages wandering in and out of shops, trying stuff on, smelling perfume, trying out cosmetic products, and doing what I had always dreamed of doing. Simply being a woman!

Poor Alex! His patience was stretched to breaking point, but we were successful. I bought a very elegant ice blue long dress, with low bodice and long sleeves. With my plaster cast, I didn’t want to stand out, but I wanted to look my best. The dress was essentially white, but the very pale blue seemed to be woven in to make it shimmer slightly. It was flowing and pleated, and of a very light material, so I would not get too hot or constricted. When I spun round, it fanned out completely, and formed a perfect circle, and if I went fast enough, it showed my knickers and all my legs.

Ingrid chose a similar dress, but strapless. It was very daring, but she had a smaller bust than me, so could get away with it. Mine lifted and displayed my breasts, while her dress held and accentuated hers. With our very blonde hair, they looked wonderful, and Alex kept making lewd suggestions involving threesomes.

The lady in the shop was very complimentary, and suggested shoes and other accessories. She produced a tiara, bracelet, earring and necklace set, all costume jewellery, which made us look positively regal.
 
 
As Alex said there were several parties, we naturally couldn’t wear the same dress too often, so we bought a few more each. I selected a black silk long skirt, and several tops that would match, and a sleeveless long red dress, that was not so good for the dancing, but made me look stunning. So by the time we returned to Ingrid’s little car, we were very heavily laden.

We took him out to dinner, and Ingrid was making up for him having a boring afternoon.

He grinned, “I've had the time of my life. I have had two gorgeous women prancing about in their underwear, dressing up in stunning outfits and asking for my opinion. As if I have the faintest idea of what women want,” he said.

“You know what we want. And that's half the battle.” I said.

“You didn’t do so bad yourself, I have never met a woman who knows what men want quite so accurately.” he told me.

I smiled, if only he knew.

We returned home, and of course subjected Mama to an impromptu fashion show.

At the end, she shook her head, and smiled at us.

“Oh my. My little girls are not so little any more. If you can’t snag husbands now, you never will.”

I called up Mark, who was at work. He couldn’t speak, so he said he would call me back later.

Eventually he did, just as I was going to bed.

“Hi sweetie,” I said.

“Hi snookums.”

I laughed. “How was your day?”

“Rough. We had a nasty burglary, where an elderly woman was tied up and beaten. She's in the same hospital that you went to. I'm getting to know all the nurses now.”

“You leave them alone,” I said, laughing.

“How about you, what have you been up to?”

“We went shopping for clothes for Scotland. I've bought this red dress, you'll love it.”

“Really, is it my size?”

“No, you fool. You will love me in it.”

“I love you in anything, or stark naked. If you wore a bin liner, I would still love you,” he said.

“You're a soppy sod,” I said, but pleased.

“I do love you Chris. I think about you all the time. I can’t wait until next week.”

“Talking of next week. Have you decided what to wear for the formal dances?”

“I was going to hire a dinner suit.”

“Why don’t you wear a kilt?”

“I’d look a prat in a kilt.”

“No, you wouldn’t. If you wear a dinner jacket, you will look more out of place than if you wore a kilt. Alex says that the majority of blokes will be in kilts.”

“But I’m not Scottish, I don’t even know which tartan to go for.”

“Half the people in Scotland haven’t a clue either. Alex knows a friendly shop that hires them, so don’t do anything until we get there. Okay?”

“If you want me to wear one, I’ll wear one,” he said.

“You are lovely.”

“Marry me.”

“Pooh. Let's see if we manage to survive two weeks together, first.”

“You didn’t say no.”

“I didn’t say yes either. You may have second thoughts after two weeks.”

“Never.”

I heard some raucous laughter in the background on his phone.

“What are you up to? Are you in the pub?” I asked.

“Yeah, a few of the shift have come for a drink. They're all taking the piss because I'm soft on you.”

“Cheek. Tell them to get a life or a good woman,” I said, and heard him repeat my words. There was some jeering and kissing noises in the background, and he laughed.

“I’ll leave you to it, then. I miss you,” I said.

“Shit, Chris, what I’d give to be with you right now.”

“Well, you may be anxious to be rid of me by this time next week.”

“No way.”

“I’ll see you on Sunday. Bye.”

“Bye.”

I put the phone down, still not convinced that he was right for me. I was beginning to appreciate that things were not as cut and dried as I had envisaged. He made me feel good, and I liked him a lot, but then Steve was the same. Mama said, ‘when the right one comes, you’ll know.’

I was still waiting.

On Thursday, Mark phoned. It was bad news.

“I can’t have the two weeks off,” he said.

“Why not?”

“I have been warned for crown court in the second week. My sergeant says that because the leave wasn’t registered, then I must attend. It's a serious case, and there are too many witnesses to adjourn it.”

“Can you come at all?”

“Yes, I can do the first week, but I have to be back for Monday morning.”

“Oh, bugger!” I said.

“Yeah, but at least I can do the first week. How will you get back south?”

“That’s not a problem, we can catch a train or something.”

“With all your luggage and a broken arm?”

“We’ll manage. I shall have to flirt with some rich Scotsman who will fly us home in his own plane.”

“Don’t you dare,” he said.

“OOOH! Jealous?”

“Yes! I've only just found you, I don’t want to lose you to some bloke in a skirt.”

“You may be one of them soon.”

“Don’t remind me.”

“Never mind, a week is better than nothing,” I said.

“Yeah. I’m excited about seeing you again.”

“Me too.”

“Really?”

“Really. For some obscure reason, I have become quite fond of you,” I admitted.

“Fond enough to marry me?”

“Mark!”

“Sorry. Boring.”

“Yes, we’ve been there, don’t pressurise me.”

“I know, I’m sorry.”

“See you Sunday, Bye.”

“Bye.”
 
 
The rest of the week passed, and Mark arrived on Sunday afternoon. The idea was we would set off at six on the following morning and be in Perth by lunch time. Mark was like an excited puppy, and was very tactile towards me. Initially, I was flattered, but it became rather tedious, so I had to slap him down, nicely of course.

It was amusing when we all packed. Alex didn’t have very much, and neither did Mark, but Ingrid and I had two enormous suitcases, into which we only just managed to squeeze everything in. If it hadn’t been for the roof rack that Mark borrowed from Daddy, we’d never have managed.

We set off nearer seven am, due to Ingrid being very slow to wake up. She had this unwelcome visitor. This time, I was relieved to know that I should be spared that for the duration of the trip. Knowing I would end up scrunched up in a car for the majority of the day, I wore a short skirt and a tee shirt.

The lads sat in the front, but by the time we hit the M40, Ingrid had dropped off to sleep again, her head against my shoulder. I sort of dozed as the boys were talking rugby, so I wasn’t the least bit interested. I had played the game, and even been quite good at it, but I was so glad that that was in my past.

We stopped at Gretna Green for some coffee and to go to the loo. I gave Mark such a look that not one joke about eloping was made. He was rather subdued since I had had a go at him the previous evening. I felt sorry for him, so made a bit of a fuss of him. I smiled, as men were very like dogs, and responded to things in the same sort of way.

Mark made me sit next to him for the second leg, as Alex rather wanted to cuddle up to Ingrid, who was demanding some attention. We put some decent music on the CD player, and the miles flew by.
 
 
We arrived at the Robertson’s house at twenty past one. It meant that PC Mark Williams exceeded the speed limit for 93% of the journey.

I was stiff and uncomfortable due to the bruising, and was very glad to have arrived. Ingrid and Alex unfolded themselves from the backseat with some difficulty, so were just about free when Bruce came out to greet us.

The house was an old one, set in the large and impressive grounds of the big public school, Strathalmond. The Victorian buildings formed two quadrangles, with a central dining hall and a chapel next to it. The cloisters had ornate windows, and the Northern aspect had a clock tower. Originally designed and set up for the sons of clergy, it was now an expensive and exclusive school for boys and girls from 13 to 18. Many more modern buildings had been slotted in, some with some thought and others in a rather sporadic fashion.

Now, as it was in the holidays, it was deserted, and very peaceful, but on the day we were due to return to England, the Christmas Term was due to start.

We were welcomed very warmly. The three younger Robertson’s were away with friends, and so it was very quiet. Sheila showed us to our rooms, after discretely enquiring whether Mark and I were a ‘sleeping’ couple or not. When I said ‘not’, she seemed faintly relieved, but surprised. I explained that I had rather traditional views concerning pre-marital sex.

She obviously mentioned this to Bruce, because later, when I was unpacking, he popped in and sat on my bed as we talked. Being a committed Christian, he was interested in my position, and questioned me about what I had said to his wife. I stated that I was recently acquired a belief in God and the afterlife. I was also clear that I was not impressed with the church, arguing that it did not present a unified and positive image to the youth in our society.

“You see, I actually agree, as it is my belief that the church consistently fails to present a relevant alternative to life’s attractions for young people. So how would you attract young people to a faith in Christ?” he said.

“Ah, that's a difficult one. First you have to do away with the hypocrisy within the church. Then you have to get rid of the politics and inter-denominational squabbling. If Biblical truth is the starting point then you have to clean up by removing all paedophiles and predatory priests, and I suppose the most crucial factor is to ensure that the Holy Spirit is given the freedom to move amongst His people.”

Bruce stared at me for a second, and then smiled.

“Ah, it seems that we have an awful lot of work to do. If you could advise a local church on one activity which was reasonable, what would it be?”

I laughed at him.

“All Christians should shine with Christ-like light in everything they do. Their lives should reflect the love of Christ, rather than telling people how wonderful Christ is, they should be living lives that show everyone who cares to look, how wonderful Christ is. That way people would come to them and ask why they are as they are, and only then they can tell them,” I said.

He smiled.

“How long have you had a faith?”

“About two weeks,” I said. “Ever since I was killed by that van, and had that near death experience before they brought me back.”

“You have a clear and mature outlook for two weeks.”

“Oh, I have a GCSE A grade in RE, but it meant nothing then,” I said, smiling.

“Tell me more about your near-death experience?” he asked. I told him everything, except the change in gender. I thought that was something best kept secret.

“Would you be willing to share that testimony to some young people?”

“Yes, of course, if it will help.”

“Mark said that he was the officer who dealt with the accident. Did he actually see it happen?”

“Yes, he was on the other side of the road. He heard the brakes, and as he turned round, he saw me being hit and thrown into the air. I think it had a profound effect on his life too. If only to think I'm a fallen angel or something,” I said, smiling.

“It's a wonderful story, which could be such a good learning experience for others.”

“I don’t know about that. I still have a broken arm, and nasty bruises all over my body. I am still missing huge chunks of memory. But I was given a second chance, so I've learned to thank Him for all my blessings, instead of taking everything for granted.”

“Are you going to be alright for the dancing?”

“Oh yes. I should be, but we will need some extra coaching before we get let loose for real.”
 
 
I finished unpacking and we went down stairs. The others were already there, and Alex showed us round the school. Mark had gone to a local comprehensive school, and he was amazed at the place.

“Did you come here?” he asked Alex.

“Yes, it was a wee bit strange with Dad as the Head, but I got no favours. If anything everyone expected me to be even better than everyone else, so I had a tough time.”

“It is very different from my school. There were nearly 2000 kids at my school, how many are here?”

“About 400.”

Mark lapsed into a stunned silence.
 
 

*          *          *
 
End of Part 1
 
 
To Be Continued...