Something to Declare by Cyclist

Chapter 43

I despair of my colleagues, sometimes. Donna, being on a different team, works a different slot on the roster, so where she had a late shift after a night on the beer I had an early turn.

It was apparent from the reactions of some of the passengers I stopped that despite a serious regime of mouthwash and toothbrush there was still more than a hint of garlic clinging to me, perhaps exacerbated by a week in France. I tried hot tea, I tried eating two packets of extra-strong mints, but I still got that wince whenever I spoke. When a couple eats garlic, it becomes neutralised between them, so they don’t notice it. When someone else is involved, though, it can be a bit like gas warfare. Little John made the point, preceding me into the Channels swinging an imaginary bell and calling out “Unclean! Unclean!”

I had an appointment with Raj arranged for four, contingent as usual on not getting a job, and of course that is exactly what happened. Sue pulled a nervous little man off one of the morning West African arrivals and, not to give too much away, he was just screaming “swallower”, which was a bonus for me. As a woman, I was certainly not going to the Frosty to watch a man shit out packages, and as a transitoning woman I was safe from having to do the same for any females we might catch. Win-win!

I had heard horror stores from the older staff about how swallowers used to be dealt with, where they did their business into a cardboard bowl for Officers to poke through with a pair of plastic tongs and a colander to sift the produce with. Now, there is a glass and stainless-steel throne, the Frost cabinet, for them to drop their load. It comes down a chute, you wash it off with built in sprays and somebody else’s toothbrush, and then bag and freeze the packages.

It still involves someone else’s excrement though, and it still smells. You didn’t want to know any of that, did you?

The client was protesting his innocence, as ever, despite a very clear X-ray image, and I put my oar in.

“Do you know what is the most important thing here? That you don’t die. If you keep these inside you, they will start opening. If they open, you die, and we don’t want that. You understand?”

“Of course I understand you, but I am a good Christian and I swear to God that I have not swallowed any of these packages you are talking about”

I showed him the X-ray, pointing out the packages clearly visible inside him.

“Look, there is no way you are leaving us until we have these things out of you. The last person to die here was only 22. We do not want another death. How many have you swallowed?”

He looked down and away, breaking eye contact.

“One hundred and six”

“I will remind you that you are under caution. You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence. Do you understand the caution?”

“Yes I do”

“How many packages have you swallowed?”

“One hundred and six”

“What is in the packages?”

“They tell me it is cocaine”

We whipped him off to Custody, and apart from my notebook I wasn’t needed after the property was listed. As he did his first dump, and I heard the first packages (26 in one go!) rattle down the chute, I got the nod to shoot off to see Raj. I made it with five minutes to spare, but I had rung his receptionist in advance to let her know I was en route. He was already changed to go to the gym, and it felt rather odd with him n a tracksuit instead of his normal pin-sharp and formal dress. While Raj was irreverent in his speech, he was almost anal in the way he presented himself and his office. I was straight to the point, filling him in on the trauma in France and how I felt my life was being lived in a corner. He looked thoughtful, steepling his fingers and looking at me under raised brows. His voice was very measured, quietly picking his words.

“So, you are fully decided now, Stephanie? You are clear that you wish to become a woman?”

I nearly snapped at that. I had been sweating for days over this, and the pain of my French ordeal was still sharp and eager to hurt in the small hours of the night, and here he was playing word games.

“Raj, you are a devious curmudgeon and you are not going to wind me up. You know exactly what I am, and you know that I do too. I don’t want to ‘become’ anything other than what I always have been. I just want a refit.”

He grinned, which in his dark face was always startling, and he actually looked rather sweet and avuncular at that point. It was odd, but while he was forever making jokes and awful puns, I had always seen that as his stage persona, his own professional way of drawing out a patient. I had never, till now I realised, seen the real man, and there he was, in a badly-fitting Adidas tracksuit behind a geometrically-tidied desk.

“How long have you been on the open sea now, Stephanie?”

“About eleven months, in public”

“Do you know why I used that metaphor? There are two things you can do in a boat. One is to drift, with a risk of being wrecked, while the other is to make a purposeful voyage. Which do you think you are doing, yourself?”

I could see his point, and I realised that this was it, this was his final question, the clincher. I ordered my thoughts.

“I am on a voyage, Raj, to somewhere I need to be. People have tried to wreck me, and I did drift, I admit that, but that is over.”

“Where are you going, Stephanie?” he asked in his measured quiet voice, leading me on.

“You know, Raj, I think I have no idea where I will finally end up, but I have a dream that I think is realistic. I just want to live a normal life, get married if it is possible, to Geoff if he will have me; no big dreams, no dramatic wishes, just to be able to live as myself”

“You see yourself in the full meringue, the big white dress, the bridesmaids and all that?”

I laughed out loud at the image. “No, Raj, just whatever ceremony is necessary to let the world know who we are, and to give us a say legally in each other’s lives. Signing a piece of paper will do, as long as it gives us that legality and normality”

He smiled again, and I blessed Sally for her choice in whom to hand her baton to.

“Stephanie, neither Sally nor myself have ever had any doubts about you. You have a month before your year is up, but I suggest you start putting your affairs in order. Let my receptionist have a list of any engagements you can’t get out of, for the next twelve months if possible, and I will speak to your friend the denadsifier”

He rose, and came round the desk to kiss my cheek.

“That was totally unprofessional, and unethical, and didn’t happen. Congratulations, dear girl, and take my very best wishes for the future for you and your fianc锝

“My fiancé?”

“Perhaps I missed something, but did you not use the m-word a few times?”

Bloody hell. I supposed that I better let people know. Geoff for starters.